It's just like you to contest,
you wear it like a label on your breast.
Every now and then, he found something to contribute in class. He'd raise his hand, and he'd share his opinion.
"I think that when someone transforms into their animagus form, it becomes part of their personality and who they are."
In turn, she'd raise her hand.
"I think Potter's wrong," she'd say bluntly. "Because their animagus form already was their personality and who they were."
"But they don't know that until they've become an animagus," he'd say.
"That's beside the point," she'd dismiss, flicking her hair over her shoulder and turning back around in one swift movement, as if it ended the conversation for good.
Don't you see what this takes of me?
A certain callousness complies
with your charm & in your pride
a hopeful look draped in despise.
James would approach her as she sat with her friends talking. He'd wait until their full attention was on him, but still, he said nothing. Lily would adopt a scornful look and spit out, "Can I help you?" Her friends would then giggle behind their hands–they always laughed, like everything she said was the most hilarious thing they'd ever heard. Sometimes he wondered why she'd spend her time with nitwits such as them, but then he'd realize there was no one else. That's how everyone treated her. Even him.
"Go out with me, Evans?" James would ask, a hopeful smile in place on his face, a hand ruffling his hair into messy perfection, but her harsh look would only intensify.
"No," she'd practically screech, but it was far too dignified, and she'd turn back to her friends, her eyes rolling, her hair swishing and clouding her from his vision.
She always turned around quickly enough to miss his eyes dim at the latest rejection.
I want to give you,
whatever you need.
What is it you need?
Is it what I need?
I want to give you,
whatever you need.
What is it you need?
Is it within me?
"I'd rather go out with the Giant Squid than you, James Potter!"
That seemed to be a favorite of hers. Still, it did not cushion the blow, and for days after, he'd send her flowers, gifts, chocolates, everything he thought a girl would want.
Sometimes, if she was angry enough, she'd throw them back at him.
"I don't want your presents!" she'd yell.
"Then what do you want?" he'd ask innocently, but he was so genuine in the question.
"For you to leave me alone!"
It's hard to explain how I am getting by,
on so little from you.
It's hard to believe that I would let myself,
get so wrapped in you.
And he'd leave her alone. Honest, he did. But then he'd see her in the corridor, and her green eyes would be alight with laughter at something someone said, and her hair would catch the light like it always seemed to, and he would swear it was almost as if she was wearing a halo, and he just couldn't keep himself away from her any longer. She was too addictive.
There's got to be something that would
be worthwhile for me to give to you.
We need a connection but you,
seem to push me far away from you.
The harder I push the further I fall.
He'd give her more presents; more teddy bears, more flowers, more cards, more anything. He'd find a leaf that was green and he'd think of her eyes and he'd just be itching to give it to her, but she'd look at him and give him that look, the one she only reserved for him and ask, "What do I look like, a bush?"
But then there would be those days, the ones where she had just broken up with a boyfriend, or just lost a friend, or just gotten a low score on a quiz, and he'd come near her with a leaf as she sat, staring out at the lake, and ask, "Can I sit with you?"
She'd look up and see him, and her eyes would change, but not in the way they always seemed to; more in a resigned way, and she'd nod. And it was like that nod was Christmas in April.
Well you don't mind me being headstrong.
But you don't want to sing along.
Maybe it's trite but I can always be wrong
Try not to be wrong.
"I found this," he'd say, and he'd hold out the leaf. She'd look at it and give a light chuckle, light she didn't want to laugh but it was just too good. He'd smile proudly. "I saw it and...it, well, it reminded me of you. It's almost the shade of your eyes."
"Thanks, James," she'd say, one of the few times she'd call him his given name, and she would accept the leaf, twirling it around in her fingers.
They'd sit in silence for a moment before her breaths became too loud for his eyes and he was suffocating under even the intoxication of just that, and he'd have to speak. "So, are you alright?"
She'd shrug. "I broke up with my boyfriend today."
"Oh..." he mumbled, trying to keep the smirk off of his face. "Why?"
She sighed. "It'll sound stupid, but...it was like he was almost...scared of me, you know? Like he didn't want to fight with me because he thought I'd lash out on him and break up with him." She'd chuckle. "At least you meet me head-on when we fight." And then she'd turn to him, giving him that slightly dimpled grin, and he'd beam back.
And maybe there was hope after all.