She Loves Me...She Loves Me Not
Disclaimer: ...It's all J.K. Rowling's.
The patch of grass was nearly perfect...innocent, just lying there, not bothering anybody. But the flower on top of the patch was what bothered me. It was so...feminine...and the grass was manly and masculine. The flower demanded picking, it was asking for it!
So I leaned down and picked up the floral violater-of-manliness.
I don't know why Padfoot is looking at me like I'm mental. I'm just minding my own business, picking up a flow-...oh...I get it.
"What the hell are you doing, Prongs?" he asked.
"It's not what it looks like!"
Padfoot just looked at me. He took several steps away from me like the flower was poison and shook his head. Now he's running up the path back to the castle with Moony and Wormtail.
It's not like he wasn't picking up a flower five minutes ago in Herbology. Well, technically it was a screechsnap but it's in the whole plant genre isn't it?
I clenched the flower tighter in my hand...which was a mistake. I looked down at the flower and at my hand. My hand was now bleeding blood the same colour as the flower...bloody flower. The flower, however, looked all too innocent to have created the cuts. It was a rose. La-di-da look at me, I'm a rose, let me cut up James' Quiditch (and writing but who gives a damn about academics) hand! I am going to throw this flower on the ground and stomp the hell out of it. Unless of course it wants to cut up my trainers, too!
Before I could eliminate this evil rose from the list of living (well, it might be sort of dead since I picked it), I realized it held another meaning. The red in the petals... There was something with redhair in life that I wanted very badly...and hadn't gotten...yet.
Lily Evans...and I swear, the second I turn seventeen I'm going to make it Lily Potter. She prances around here with that red hair and flips it ever so tauntingly. I'm not sure if she does it because it's always in her eyes or because she knows we can't have her. And then she walks around with her millions of friends and talks and laughs with them and still has time to do her homework the moment it's assigned.
Of course, Evans always has time to give me a detention or threaten to hex me or something...but she's never done anything. Actually she has...she gave me nineteen detentions so far (I love her handwriting), thirty-two threats (I love her voice), and has hexed me eight times (I'd love her reflexes, too if they weren't so painful).
I don't understand why Evans won't go out with me...I am a handsome, smart, athletic, loving individual...what part of that quadrupically wonderful combination could she not like?
It's the brain...she's probably threatened by it.
Or maybe the looks...she thinks I'm more attractive then she is.
Or the sports...I know she can't fly a broom for her life.
Or the love...which she seems to have none of for me.
I looked down at the rose...I should give it to her, make a romantic line, too.
"I'm bleeding for you!"
(And it hurts, too...)
"The blood I bleed is the colour of the rose I heed!"
(Hey, rhymes!)
"A rose for a rose!"
(Wait, her name's Lily)
"A flower for my flower!"
(Too generic...)
"I love you, I'm bleeding because I wanted to give you this rose, you'll probably cut yourself on it two but if our blood mingles we'll be related sort of, but that means I wouldn't be able to marry you because it would be incest, so don't take this rose and forget I said anything."
(Straight to the point! I love it!)
Now...what do I do with this rose?
Maybe I can use it's petals as bandages for my injured hand.
Or I could put it on Snivelly's nose and chant "Pin a rose on your nose".
If I run out of ink I could use the rose to cut myself and write with my blood. After I kept borrowing ink from Professor McGonogall, she keeps telling me that I should write with blood or something.
There was a loud ringing noise.
That's the bell for the next class. I'm not walking into class with a rose... Padfoot won't tell anyone about the floral-incident...probably...unless he lets it slip by accident...that happened once when my mum was telling that story about me and how I ran around naked in Diagon Alley when I was three. The only sollution to this problem is to quickly eliminate all traces of evidence... Which would be the rose...and my hand.
So I could cut up the rose and chop off my hand.
Floral and anatomical amputation...whee.
Well, the least I could do is get rid of the flower...but how?
I looked at the rose...and removed one petal. I threw it into the lake. (I wonder if the Giant Squid will eat it).
"She loves me."
When Evans gave the entire class biscuits for a Christmas present, she gave me one, too.
I took off another petal.
"She loves me not."
...Mine had sort of fallen on the floor.
"She loves me."
But she warned me about it.
"She loves me not."
When I complained she gave me detention.
"She loves me."
She helped me out of the lake once.
"She loves me not."
After she pushed me in.
"She loves me."
But she apologized.
"She loves me not."
...In my dream.
"She loves me."
...Damn, I don't have any loving examples anymore. I'm out of petals anyway.
Wait a second, I'm out of petals...
"She loves me!" I shouted.
"SHE LOVES ME!" Hogwarts shook.
"SHE LOVES ME!" Europe began to quake.
SHE LOVES ME! And the universe trembled.
I ran back to class confidently...I'd never ran so fast a day in my life...except the time that pit bull was chasing me...
I jumped up and down through the halls.
I galloped straight past Peeves whom scracthed his head, at loss of insults to say, he couldn't even keep up with me.
I leapt through McGonogall's doorway...it's the middle of class, all heads turn towards me.
Padfoot has this look on his face that says, "What the bloody hell?" but I don't care.
I run straight towards Evans and plant a kiss right on her lips, and she doesn't even slap me. Evans opened her mouth and then she says it, "I love-"
"Mr. Potter, Mr. Potter, Mr. Potter, Potter?"
Oh damn, I'm hearing voices. Me and Evans must've gotten married already...and we must've had- wow...sex must be very powerful.
Only that's when I realized it, I woke up.
"What happened?" I asked, dejectedly.
"Well...Mr. Potter, It seems Miss Evans here accidentally pushed you down the stairs." Madam Pomphrey said.
"Sorry, Pot-...James," Lily mumbled, looking at her shoes.
She loves me, she really does!
"I'll leave you be," Madam Pomphrey said, "But Mr. Potter really does need his rest."
"Well, Evans, I must say, that if you were really sorry...you'd say...go out with me."
"Yes, James, if I were sorry, just like you are, desperate, conceited, and mental, then I'd go out with you."
...she loves me not
THE END
Author's Note: She pushed him down the stairs before Herbology...which James never got the chance to attend...he never got a chance to pick the flower or kiss Lily...how sucky.