Lily Evans didn't bat an eyelid as a certain messy-haired Quidditch captain sauntered over to her table in the Common Room and snatched up the quill that was lying on the table, twirling it in his fingers. She was prepared for this. Shooting an acidic glare towards him, she reached into her bag and withdrew another quill, before soundlessly continuing with her Charms homework.
James, clearly stumped as to why he hadn't provoked a response from her yet, decided to sit beside the redhead and peer casually over her parchment to read her homework.
"What, Potter?" She asked immediately, as a few stray clumps of his hair brushed against her cheek.
"Nothing." He smirked, leaning back and gripping her quill between his teeth, his hazel eyes glinting with the satisfaction of actually getting her to talk to him. She fought back the urge to laugh at the ridiculous image he was forming in front of her - still in his muddy Quidditch robes, a feather curling from his mouth, his glasses slightly askew. But no. She wasn't in the mood for laughing. Not since… well. Sev, really. The fact that she wasn't talking to him, but the thing she wanted most in the world was for their old friendship to spring up, so they could be how they were before Sev had begun to rub shoulders with disgusting Slytherins like that Mulciber. But no, she couldn't forgive him. Even worse, she couldn't save him. "Mudblood" hadn't just been a word, no matter how many times he had threatened to sleep outside the Gryffindor common room so he could tell her how insignificant it was. The fact that he'd used the word showed just how far he'd become embroiled in everything that Voldemort represented. Tears pricked her eyes at the thought - she'd lost him. And in her heart, she knew there was no way to get him back. Even if they did make up and acted civil towards each other, there would always be that underlying tension, that knowledge that he was pretty much a Death Eater trainee, that no matter how much he claimed he hadn't meant what he said, he'd still said it - the contempt that his friends had for people of her birth had sunk into his flesh, his blood, his brain.
No. I can't cry. Especially not in front of Potter.
She rolled her eyes and turned back to the heavy textbook in front of her, using the motion to rapidly blink away the tears that were on the edge of spilling down her cheeks.
There. Done. Nothing had been given away. Everything was… fine.
She continued to write in her neat, looping handwriting. However, no matter how hard she focused on the proper technique of casting a non-verbal charm, she couldn't help being aware of Potter's annoying presence beside her, his self-confidence and playfulness emanating from him in waves.
He's like a bug that refuses to be swatted. She thought. Where were his friends anyway? Sometimes Remus and Peter were absent from his presence, but Sirius was nearly always glued to his fellow prankster and best friend. Odd.
"So, will you go out with me, Evans?"
It took Lily a couple of seconds to respond.
"I admit, Potter, that one caught me off guard, but no. You're absolutely repulsive."
"Well, that's just unnecessary." James tutted, throwing the quill a couple of feet up into the air and grasping the stalk - a perfect catch.
"You know what's unnecessary? You. You and the fact that you always seem to appear when I least want you - wait, scratch that. I always never want you, so I suppose it's just your general existence that annoys me."
"Merlin's beard, Evans -" James started, but Sirius had just clattered into the room from the boys' dormitories, his arms laden with plastic chickens.