A/N: Written for the Sounds Writing Comp. the Harry Potter (WB) Boards.
Prompt: A walk in the moonlight. A walk in the park. A movie and dinner. A stay-home date. Ah how we love it all. And yet at times we all seem to be completely hopeless at love. Your sound? The cliché of clichés: Raindrops. Your era? You can choose anything but the trio era unless you want to explore the Ron/Lavender date. (Only one person can sign up for this. Tell me immediately.) Put some comedy into our lives! Your task? It's a date. Or planning to ask someone out for a date. Choose from the ships below. Before you choose keep in mind you had to submit the first prompt and you may not choose your favorite ship.
Delu: James/Lily
Word Count: 1,496
Note: All underlined text is the hand writing of Sirius Black; plain script is James Potter.
A J.P.-S.B. Guide
(A parodied attempt at wooing)
June 11, 1979 - Saturday
There are very few ways in which to win the affection of a woman - even fewer still to do so for the vivacious ones. So, to help my fellow man (woman/beastie/every which other), I, James Charlus Potter, and my partner in Wooithness, Sirius Orion Black, have devised this calculated piece of parchment for just such a predicament where the adorative feeling is not returned.
Rule One:
Never, Ever, EVER say they are wrong. By all means, the woman is right on all accounts and so shall always be (even if they are completely and utterly neurotic).
June 5, 1979 - Sunday
An ordinary day, as they always start. The simplicity of it was relaxing; no Order meetings to attend, no Auror projects to complete, no Death Eaters to track down. Calm. Relaxing.
He should have seen it coming.
It started with the coffee, really. You see, James wasn't quite what you'd call a 'morning person,' by any means. He was grumpy and irritable when he awoke - whether it be at seven in the morning or two in the afternoon - and so he practically worshiped the dark liquid God also known as coffee. The cream was the messiah. Anyway, that morning James was being particularly grouchy, and an unbecoming Marauder is lethal.
No, really.
So, the first thing he did (outside of fall from bed, break his alarm, and disturb the pristine sheets, of course), was get himself a large, sweetened cup of black gold. He was sitting at the bar in the kitchen, idly sipping his concoction, glaring dolefully at the Muggle oven that Lily insist they have.
Speaking of that fiery haired wife of his, she was coming down the stairs just then; robes on, hair still damp from her shower. She had one earring in and was putting in the other when she turned to her husband.
"James, do you know when Kruble was holding that Gala he wanted us to go to?" she queried, head tilted.
"Mmm," mumbled the sable haired man, not really paying attention.
"I was thinking it was on Wednesday, but that doesn't really make sense, does it? After all, he has us set for morning and late shifts, barely giving us time to get home to change. It really is quite odd that he'd do that," she said, going about her morning routine of fixing an English muffin with jam. She continued talking, "Oh, and Molly told me to tell you that Arthur wants you over this morning to help him with a project. Something about a Ford Angelina, she said."
That caught his attention; he looked up from his glaring contest with the oven (which he was losing) to look over at his wife. "No, Arthur said he wanted me over this afternoon, spoke with him about it a couple of days ago," he continued to sip at his coffee.
Lily stopped in her movements and started shaking her head slowly - he should have seen it coming then. Should of, didn't.
"No, no, I'm sure she said this morning," she started back up with breakfast, "I talked with her about it just yester-"
"No, luv, it's this afternoon," James yawned out, cutting her off.
"No, it's this morning. Molly said - "
"Well, Molly might've heard wrong, then," he shrugged off, standing up to get another cup. For a moment, all that could be heard was the clatter of the spoon mixing in the cup, followed by rumbling thunder far off in the distance. Then, he turned around and lent against the counter for support. He noticed Lily seemed to be tense - tense, ha! She was practically mutilating the muffin with her knife, if you ask me - and so tensed up himself.
Uh-oh, he thought, what the heck did I do this time?
- - -
You see what he did there? He cut her off at two particular points. Never do this. It's sheer stupidity to do that to a woman. She gave me the cold shoulder for two days after that, up until she actually had to speak to me, because of that bloody Gala. Took me 'bout a day and a half to realize what exactly I'd done wrong, and after that it took me the rest of the time to figure out exactly what I was going to do...
Rule Two:(but do it in private, mates, for your sake and ours!) and beg for sweet mercy. 2, Rephrase yourself to an agreeing stance and say it in the single-most apologetic way possible. 3, do what I did: make up to her in a spectacular way.
If rule one is ever broken, you have three options: 1, fall to your knees when you realize it's broken
June 8, 1979 - Wednesday
It was raining; that was probably the most prominent thing about the place. The sound of the raindrops smattering against the roof and windowpanes was loud, like the banging of a gavel giving out a sentence. That's quite how he felt, then, too - like he was on trial for an accidental faux-pas he'd made. Standing there in his dress robes, nervously clutching at the box in his pocket, sweating like a teenager.
He hoped this would work. He needed this to work. Really, really badly.
His heart was beating as quickly as he could count the raindrops. Bloody rain, he thought, you just had to start tonight, didn't you? The night I'm making up to Lily.
He braced himself as he heard his wife coming down the stairs. She quickly glanced at him and nodded; she was ready to go. And go they did.
- - -
The night was going horribly. Not only had the rain not let up, it had worsened to a thick tidal wave, drenching everyone who ventured out of the building the Gala was held in. The sharp patter of the rain couldn't be held out, and people had started not to care so much. It gave a lively tune that rivaled the bands - though James was not very fond of nature's jazz.
Why so glum about the rain? Well, James' plan consisted of whisking Lily out to the back garden and romantically making up for his idiotic talk back on Sunday. He was still confused about that, really, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that he got back on Lily's good side, and that was never going to happen with bloody water coming down in epic proportions.
Why couldn't they have lived somewhere a bit more... dry-ish?
James hummed to himself quietly, pleased only slightly as the faint noise reached his ears, mingling with the rain's soft beat. Wait, soft? He glanced hazel eyes up toward the enchanted ceiling (stole that from Hogwarts, they did!) and saw that the tidal of water had slowed to a lazy cascade. His eyes widened and he glanced out to where he knew Lily was at.
She was laughing with a few work friends, gathered at another table, emerald eyes glinting with amusement.
He smiled at that, ready to make his move. One last pat to his pocket where the box was, he stood and briskly walked to the table his wife was at. Her eyes chilled as she noticed him, and her body started to tense. Her friends caught this and the laughter died down and stopped as he got there. He tried to give a brilliant smile out at the group, but faltered at the ice he was receiving. He gulped. Now or never, mate.
"Darling, uh, could I speak to you for a minute?" He asked, hiding his nervousness in the raindrops so softly tapping above. She seemed to purse her lips before nodding and waving to her friends before reluctantly taking his arm. He led her to the back patio doors slowly, hoping that this spot would do the trick and soften her up for him. To his great relief, it did.
She gasped quietly as she watched the magical plants grow to full bloom. Her eyes were riveted to them, and he noticed with great joy that the rain had left a shimmer of rainbow across the petals. Taking a breathe, he took her supple palm into his calloused hand.
"Lily," he said softly, "I have something for you." And with that he took out the box he'd been fretting so tirelessly over. Her eyes swayed to his before going back down. He cracked it open a bit, slowly, before revealing the gem within. A lily flower shaped broach made of gold and red rubies glinted up at them, shining as bright and beautiful at the flowers near them.
Her breathe caught, and he knew he was forgiven.
- - -
And there you have it, a romance rekindled with but two simple rules.
This has been James and Sirius - hoping never to have to do that again.
Ta!