A/N: Hello, internet! This is the first in a series of Jily (James x Lily) oneshots/drabbles. They are all inspired by one-word prompts which are given to me by my Blind-Type-Thing Software! How does a software give me ideas, you ask? Well, It makes up words from the letters you're currently "learning", and then you practice with them. I write with them instead. Silly me.
My first ever fanfic, so please no flames! Reviews would mean the world to me!
Disclaimer: Oh, and I'm not J.K. Rowling. *pout*.
Wet.
"So," Sirius asked, trying to maintain a serious face for his friend's sake, "I take it she didn't fall into your arms, kissed you passionately and agreed to finally go out with you?"
James sighed, then went to sit on his bed - before remembering his person was currently sodden wet, and that - based on experience - sleeping in a damp bed was not very pleasant. He went to the closet instead.
"I guess I should have known." He said, rummaging for a clean, dry cloak. "Water does flatten my hair, which makes my handsomeness look less... handsome."
Remus, who up to now was sitting near his bed, reading a (very thick) book, snorted. "I'm sure that's what it was, Prongs."
James huffed. "It's supposed to be romantic - and not only to wizards with "pure blood status"! You said it was in muggle culture, too!"
He then turned to the last marauder, who seemed to be half asleep. "Wormtail! back me up here!" He just shook his head and mumbled that he was dead tired and moony was the smartest, anyway, so why won't he ask him?
"The difference," Remus, having heard Peter's mumbling, said reasonably, "Is that the birds in those movies were usually already in love with said blokes.".
James looked indignant. "So is Evans!" Upon seeing the rest of the marauders look at him incredulously, he added defensively, "She's just repressing it. But, deep down, it's there!"
He had finally changed into a warm, non-soaked clothes and was sitting down on his bed - which allowed one Sirius Black, who was lounging in the nearest four-poster, to reach out and smack him. "Prongs!" he shouted. "Look, you know how we'd love it if she succumbed and rode off into the sunset with you - if nothing else, at least it'll stop your blubbering -" (Remus and Peter nodded in agreement) "- but you have to admit, it isn't going to happen anytime soon. "He finished harshly. When James slumped in defeat the werewolf added, in a softer tone: "Maybe someday. But not now. Not fifth year. Right now, what you have to do is to let her go."
James looked up, trying to smile. "So no more attempts to try to wow her with your incredibly good looks, ask her to Hogsmeade, then kiss her in the rain?"
"None of these." Said Remus good naturedly.
They're wrong. James thought desperately, while his mates chuckled. It'll work. Maybe not this time, but perhaps next day, next week, next month. I'm not giving up!
But somewhere, in a part of himself that James-of-Fifth-Year found quite hard to access (but James-of-Seventh-Year will go to quite often) , he knew they were right.
A/N: Slightly angsty, but the next ones are fluffier - and hopefully funnier (and maybe longer).
Reminder: Reviews = Virtual Cookies. (Blue cookies, if you're from the PJO fandom.)
Next update should besometime next week.
Until then,
~Fearless Noodle
