Apples
By Lily Orange
Summary: Lily's spending Valentine's Day as a single sixteen-year-old writing a Transfiguration essay. However, that all changes when James Potter walks in and begins eating an apple. Rather seductively...
A one-shot dedicated to Valentine's Day, which I've posted a little bit early. Just to warn you, no beavers were hurt in the making of this fanfiction! Plus has anybody else heard the apple theory? My friend told me about it the other day and I couldn't stop laughing... ;P Enjoy, please leave a review!
Disclaimer: I'm not JK Rowling - I wish I was, but I'm not - therefore I own nothing.
I had writer's block. If that's possible – you can't really get writer's block as regards to homework essays, can you? I was trying to write a particularly lengthy Transfiguration essay for Professor McGonagall, and it is common knowledge that I, Lily Evans, suck at Transfiguration.
Perhaps "suck" is a kind of – suck-y word. Maybe – I'm intellectually challenged in Transfiguration. That's probably more accurate.
Everybody knows I can't do it and that it takes about three hours to do any sort of simple question task, let alone a whole bloody essay. I, unlike some people, struggle with that damned subject. Professor McGonagall was helpful but I got the feeling that my constant prodding of the thing I was supposed to be transfiguring – the most recent being a beaver, who, because I angered him with the incessant poking, starting gnawing on the desk and my carefully written out notes – was getting her quite irritated every lesson.
So now I think Professor McGonagall was tired of me. And an insane beaver had it in for me. Why do these things always happen to me? Nobody else. Just me.
For instance, my best friend Alice is absolutely phenomenal at Transfiguration. Honestly. She can transfigure anything within twenty seconds – that's lightning speed compared to my two billion years. She tutored me so that I could pass my OWL exam, which I got an Exceeds Expectations in, and she has been helping me with the NEWT work, but on the day of the beaver incident, she was nowhere to be seen.
"A-lice," I'd said, after she'd witnessed my humiliation (the humiliation being the beaver eating my desk after I'd repeatedly whacked it over the head with my textbook begging it to stop. That beaver was bloody resistant, all it did was do this weird cross-eyed expression at me and carried on eating. WHAT KIND OF CRAZY-ASS BEAVER DOES THAT?) in the lesson, "could you help me with my essay? Please? I'll give you all the cake in the world!"
Alice was a very big fan of cake – so much so her mum and grandma each send her one a week. However, they both seem oblivious to the fact the other does it so she gets two massive cakes sent to her, both on a Sunday. Last week was chocolate gateau and carrot cake – we had a delicious feast in our dorm that night, but all it meant was that the next morning I had to enlarge the waistband on my school skirt slightly.
Attractive.
"Lily, you know I'd love to help you," she began, her voice distinctly apologetic. This was actually true – Alice adores to help people. She helps Peter Pettigrew in almost every subject, she helped her cousin Johnny to perfect his Keeping skills to make the reserve team for Gryffindor and she willingly potted all the new magical plants in the greenhouses for Professor Greenfingers last week. I wish I was more helpful and kind like Alice, but I have crazy beavers to worry about. I was daydreaming in Charms, my lesson following Transfiguration, about that beaver going and telling all his little beaver friends about the beaver abuse thing and them coming to gnaw me in my sleep. It wasn't pleasant.
"But you're busy," I stated monotonously. She nodded, a small smile forming on her petal pink lips.
"Going out with Frank," she replied remorsefully, "the teachers have given all students special permission to go out to Hogsmeade tonight because it is, you know," she said, blushing beatifically. Alice was stunning – she had chocolate-coloured hair that fell in corkscrew curls to her shoulders and big honey-coloured eyes, framed by long, thick eyelashes.
"No, I don't," I replied quizzically. I wasn't sure what she was getting at – partly because of the beaver worries I was having. That bloody beaver was going to haunt me for the rest of my life.
"Lily, you haven't forgotten?" Alice said, eyes wide.
Clearly I had because I didn't have the foggiest as to what she was going on about.
"But I thought you had a date and everything!" she persisted, sitting down on her bed, opposite mine. We were the only two Gryffindor girls in our year so we had it to ourselves.
"A date?" I echoed in confusion. I never had a date. Oh, I got asked (in the past), but they all got scared away by this boy who used to be a stupid idiot and thought he was my soulmate therefore scuppered my chances with any respectable boy by threatening them incessantly. Now he'd stopped it and was verging on normal (though I don't know how I could judge that seeing as I am most definitely not normal myself - do normal people have daydreams about being attacked by beavers?) but all the good-looking boys were taken by other girls and had been for a while. Yes, James Potter had a lot to answer for.
"It's Valentine's Day, Lils!" she reminded me. Now I remembered. Yes, I had been asked out twice in the past for this very occasion – by Garry Finch of Ravenclaw (who James told I was fathering his child in fifth year) and by Nick Reynolds of Hufflepuff (who James told I was planning on becoming a nun in fourth). But now I was condemned to spending it writing a stupid Transfiguration essay in the Gryffindor common room whilst everybody was out having fun with their other halves.
IT WAS SO DAMN DEPRESSING.
"Oh, yes, I kind of forgot about it," I shrugged nonchalantly, neglecting to mention that I never actually had a date, whilst Alice delved into her wardrobe and pulled out a new turquoise dress which she was going to wear for a date with Frank – meaning Frank Longbottom, her long-term boyfriend and the boy she was most probably going to marry as they had been smitten with each other since they were eleven. It was quite cute really – Frank, a seventh-year, was probably getting ready right now for their date.
"Well, I'm sure you could probably get a last-minute date – how about Ja–" she began, but I automatically jumped up and put a hand over her mouth to prevent her from uttering James' name in a romantic context with my own. It was bad enough I had to deal with the insane beaver, but not with Alice's speculation that I fancied James was utterly intolerable! She had this strange theory that I was in love with him and that I wanted his babies.
And, if I did that, the world would end.
Surprisingly, actually, James hadn't asked me out for Valentine's Day. He hadn't asked me out since the end of fifth year (we were now in sixth) and it was kind of weird. I was used to him utilising cheesy chat up lines in the middle of meals, lesson time and caterwauling them in the corridor in my general direction as I walked past. No, he was now being almost... friendly. Treating me in a sort of vaguely sisterly fashion, asking me actually concerned questions as if he was bothered about my welfare (example: "Lily, would you like me to remove the beaver from this classroom?") and smiling at me cheerfully in the corridors. It was quite refreshing, actually, but it felt weird. As if something wasn't quite right.
Maybe it was that James was supposed to migrate to Australia and I was to remain in sunny blighty, and get married to a sexy French swimwear model called Claude who would meet me when he was doing a shoot for WiziVogue.
Hey, it could happen!
"Don't you DARE say his name in a romantic way with my own!" I warned in a highly menacing voice before flopping back onto my bed and staring at the ceiling. It was quite a nice ceiling, very... architecturally interesting.
I needed, very quickly, to get a life if I was spending Valentine's Day staring at ceilings and commenting on how nice they were.
"But... you know you like him, Lils..." Alice grinned mischievously, slipping into the blue dress and putting her dainty little feet (yes – I had to survive with size a billion feet that looked like bloody flippers) into platform Mary Janes.
"I do not like him!" I spluttered indignantly, crossing my arms and glaring at my supposed best friend. I could feel my face heating up in embarrassment.
"You keep telling yourself that, dear," she smiled knowingly and infuriatingly at me before picking up her bag and jacket and exiting the dorm. She may have been my best friend, but that didn't stop me from throwing a fluffy red pillow out of the door in her general direction, which missed, thanks to my superbly rubbish throwing skills.
That left me sitting at a table in the Gryffindor Common Room, subjected to the absolute torture that is Transfiguration essays. Professor McGonagall seemed to want a full-on NOVEL concerning people to animal transfiguration! I couldn't do that – firstly you had to have some form of knowledge about the bloody thing before you could even write a paragraph about it!
So far, I had written... Human to Animal Transfiguration is a very– seven measly words. I had been staring at the parchment for the last hour and was receiving worried looks from people nearby. Not that there were many – only first years and a couple of second years. See? Even the second years had dates on Valentine's Day! Not me. Not stupid bloody Lily Evans who had to spend it writing essays, staring at panelled ceilings and abusing mental beavers with heavy transfiguration textbooks. Really, could I be any more ridiculous?
I leaned back in my chair and glanced at the large clock above the fireplaces, which was ablaze with wildly dancing flames, flickering welcomingly and filling the common room with a warm yellow-orange glow. At least I wasn't cold – that would have been the icing on the cake.
The clock told me it was – half past eight. Dear Merlin.
I decided to cross out the beginning of my essay and start again on a new piece of parchment, hoping this would provide me with some kind of inspiration to actually be able to write it, as I was failing miserably with my seven-word opening.
Human to Animal Transfiguration is a very complex branch of magic. For instance, the processes required to become an Animagi can be very dangerous and fatal if performed wrong. This is why many wizards decide not to take this step and instead merely to–
This time, it wasn't my thought that ended, but the bang of the portrait hole swinging open and four rowdy boys came in, howling with laughter and babbling vociferously. Did they not know I couldn't concentrate with that racket going on in the background?
I looked up. Ah, that it explained it. It was James and his friends. They all leaped into the four squidgy armchairs by the fire (James sitting in my favourite one with the large crimson velvet cushion on it) and carried on chatting relentlessly, regardless of the other people in the room. How utterly selfish! Did they not know that I was working on a ground-breaking Transfiguration essay that would change the course of the world as we knew it?
Well, the ground-breaking thing would be if I could get past finishing the introduction.
I frowned and put my quill down. My train of thought was thoroughly lost now and I had absolutely no hope of writing any more on the essay. Now nobody would know what many wizards decide merely to do instead of becoming animagi until morning. What a bloody shame.
"The look on his face was priceless!" one of them yelled giddily. Sirius Black, possibly the best-looking boy in the school, with a womanising reputation to match and the largest ego I had ever encountered. He was lying across his armchair lazily, grinning and his eyes wide. Practically every girl in the school fancied him. Merlin knows why. I would go out with James Potter before Sirius Black any day. At least James wouldn't drop me when a sillier, blonder, boobier bimbo came along and batted her eyelashes at him flirtatiously, like Sirius probably would. It would be degrading to go out with Sirius (not because of him, because of the way he treated girls like a piece of meat), at least if I went out with James I would be treated right and would have a good time...
DAMN, I JUST SAID SUGGESTIVE AND ROMANTIC THINGS IN RELATION TO ME AND JAMES! No fear, I could have always just washed my mouth out with soap and water and, to be honest, nobody heard me, so nobody except myself would know that I thought these sinful things.
I would have to live with the fact I thought these things for the rest of my life, but I'm sure I would have survived.
"Why does he fall for it every time?" Peter Pettigrew added – his voice not as full of confidence and self-assurance as his friends. He was a kind of mousy boy with watery, almost colourless, eyes, but he was okay. He struggled in every subject apart from Transfiguration – I think it's only me who is positively rubbish at it. It would be the way, wouldn't it? Old muggins would be useless.
"I don't know, Wormtail, I have no idea – but it's bloody hilarious when he does!" Sirius replied, exploding into a multitude of thunderous guffaws that practically shook the common room.
"I know mate, I know!" Remus Lupin smiled. He wasn't as loud as the others and a relatively sweet boy, who was highly assiduous in his studies and kind to talk to. In fact, James was becoming less like the extroverted Sirius and more like the pleasant Remus every day. It was... endearing.
"It never gets old," James Potter declared, leaning back and laughing quietly to himself. I couldn't help but notice how the dancing flames shadowed his perfectly defined jaw and his lightly tanned skin; they reflected in his soft hazel eyes and in his tousled jet black hair. He had taken off his customary glasses and it exhibited his face in a new light; quite literally, with the flames casting a glow across it. His face looked sculpted, beatific...
I shook my head vehemently as I realised what thoughts were swimming around in my mind. No way was I attracted to James Potter! I focused my glistening green eyes on the parchment before me to distract myself.
"Again tomorrow?" I heard him say in his velvety deep voice. I was about to ask him, very sternly, what exactly he was alluding to - as being a prefect, I would obviously have to report whatever insane criminal act her was about to admit - but I was stopped in my tracks as I saw him take a large red apple out of his pocket.
I remembered Alice telling me something a few weeks before: you, apparently, could tell how good a kisser somebody was by seeing how large their bite was in an apple. We had howled with laughter at such a concept - how had it been scientifically proven? – and Alice sneakily watched Frank eat an apple and he had an extremely large bite and she verified that he was a very good kisser.
Not that I wanted to kiss Frank. He was nice and everything, but he was my best friend's boyfriend and I just wasn't attracted to him. Unlike other people.
I wasn't referring to James! More Claude, the imaginary French swimwear model...
Intrigued, I decided to watch James eat his apple and judge how large his bite was. Just for scientific research, as I was bored and literally had nothing better to do than watch boys eat apples.
Sirius was gabbling away like an idiot about some poor student who had been subjected to their pranking ways. Honestly, I don't know how they'd all avoided being expelled, they'd had so many detentions. I think Sirius held the record, but it was such a large number nobody cared to memorize it.
James was about to take a bite into the apple... he lifted it up from his lap, towards his mouth... and bit into it. I slowly watched him consume the piece of apple and then he went back to talking to his friends, revealing how much of the apple he had eaten.
Half.
HE HAD EATEN HALF OF THE BLOODY APPLE IN ONE GO.
Well, if the theory was correct... didn't that mean James Potter was one cracking kisser? Honestly, Frank had probably eaten a quarter at the most and Alice praised his kissing skills almost as if he was King Frank Snogbottom! Let me rephrase that - there are too many disturbing connotations - she had praised him as if he was King Snog himself! So if James had eaten twice the amount of the apple that Frank had in one go...
And it was Valentine's Day after all... supposedly the most lovey-dovey day of the year, when the amount of red and pink glittery hearts decorating shop windows was enough to induce actual nausea if you had been standing close by for too long...
And he looked so nice with the flames flickering and leaving him emanating a golden glow... almost like an angel, as if he was some kind of ethereal, beautiful apparition. Besides, he hadn't been as annoying lately and had actually been kind of nice and almost offered to help me with something the other day, as well as with the beaver thing that day...
So I did the only comprehensible thing I could think of. It probably wasn't the most sensible, and definitely not the most lady-like, but to be honest, I didn't care.
I launched myself out of my chair at the table and in James' direction – I ended up on his lap and automatically pressed my lips to his. His confused murmurs of "Lily?" were muffled by the fact I was obstructing his mouth thus very little sound was coming out. Within nanoseconds, he relented, immediately responding to my rather forward actions, wrapping his arms around me and running his fingers through my hair... I was enjoying myself. Actually enjoying myself...
I still didn't care about the fact there were first- and second-years gawping at us like stunned goldfish. I didn't care that Peter Pettigrew had fallen off his armchair in astonishment and was now nursing a scraped elbow. I didn't care that Remus Lupin looked as if he had had a brick dropped on his head. And I certainly didn't care that Sirius Black had started singing some muggle love song and dancing round us like a maniacal version of Cupid.
Instead, I focussed on having the time of my life.
I hope you enjoyed that! By the way, if any of you have seen the film
:) x Lily Orange x (: