Almost
I can't believe it.
My IPod is completely dead, and I can't fall asleep without music. It's like a defect or something. Silence is way too loud to let me drift off to sleep, where James Potter perpetually covers me in chocolate… erm… that was a bit too much information, wasn't it?
And the worst bit is, I gave the technology wizard an extra five Galleons to make my IPod infinitely charged when I paid him to make it magic-adaptable. Looks like I just wasted a quarter of my birthday money. Damn.
I huff and flip over onto my stomach. Mostly the thing that annoys me is that it died right in the middle of a song, too. The chorus had just started on my favorite song, and I was smiling and everything, and I was even singing along –
"And I almost had you,
But I guess that doesn't cut it…
Almost had you…
I almost wish you –"
Nothing. A load of fat, static-y nothing after that last "you", and I was left singing to myself like an idiot.
I sit up in bed and rub my nose. Maybe a cup of tea will help. I reach over to the cup I made that afternoon, left on my bedstand – empty. It bloody figures. Now I have to get up and make a whole other cup in the God-damn common room. I groan, get up, pull on a pair of flannel shorts and a tank top, and my favorite pair of fuzzy fleece slippers.
I open the door very, very quietly and step onto the first stair. Maybe if I don't breathe, the stairs won't creak and wake up anyone –
Wait a mo.
A few strains of a chord are drifting up to me. I'd know that riff anywhere. Hell, I'd heard it more than any other song in the world.
I tiptoe faster than I thought was possible down to the common room. Please be Remus… or Frank… anyone but –
No. Way.
James Potter is lounged across the best couch in the entire Common Room, his back to me, holding a sleek red walnut guitar across his chest and strumming it absentmindedly. At least, it seems that way. To my ears, those notes are undeniably the best song in the entire Muggle world.
He's opening his mouth. Maybe it's some sort of mistake – maybe it's another song –
"I almost got drunk at school at fourteen
Where I almost made out with the homecoming queen
Who almost went on to be Miss Texas
But lost to a slut with much bigger breast—es…"
He stops. There's no way that he, James Potter, pureblood, knows my favorite song. I want to cry. But more, I want to hug him.
He's singing again… wait a second…
"She almost cursed my hair pink when I kissed her goodbye
And she almost hexed my eye out when I flew on by
But I wouldn't give her up for anything in the world
She's my one-and-only darling red-headed girl…"
Oh. My. God.
...I really want to cry now. There's no way that's about anyone else other than me. I remember hexing his hair pink in first year – I was so upset, he'd just sat on my kitten…
He's still strumming away. I never knew he could sing like that. It's beautiful.
I can feel my feet taking me closer to him. I don't think I'm fully in control of my limbs. He comes to the chorus.
"And I almost had her,
But I guess that's never cut it…
Almost had her…
I almost wish she would've loved me too…"
The song fades. He's stopped singing. I'm standing behind his head without knowing quite how I got there. He still hasn't seen that I'm awake. His left hand leaves the neck of the guitar and he rubs his eyes from under his glasses. "My God, I wish she'd've loved me too…" he sings quietly, then tilts his head back, eyes closed.
I have never done an impulsive thing in my life. Not once. I'm by-the-book, orderly Lily. I'm known for it. But tonight, I'm reckless.
So I bend over, put my hands on either side of his face, and kiss him with all the love I can possibly muster. Because I don't know if I'll ever have another boy that sings my favorite song to me again. I can't waste this chance.
I lean back and open my eyes. He's staring at me like I'm a ghost that'll disappear if he even breathes too loudly. I smile; he smiles back a bit uncertainly. And I do the only thing I can. I whisper what I've been thinking all night.
"Don't sing that song, love. You never 'almost' had me."
His grin fades.
"You always did."
And with that, I kiss him once more on the forehead, whisper "Hogsmeade this Saturday," and run up the stairs to my dormitory.
I have a feeling I'll be able to sleep just fine now.
Almost by Bowling for Soup.
Okay, I'll make this A/N short – this story is 100% based on real life. One of my best guy friends who I've known since the fourth grade did this for me before my freshman year. I nearly cried. But, like an idiot, I didn't kiss him. It figures that with my luck he would tell me he got a girlfriend the very next day. |facepalm| Either way, this one's for D. Love you still. .o.O.o. Maraudette .o.O.o.