Disclaimer -- I don't own Harry Potter or the few lines I borrowed from OK Go.

Warnings -- Implied slash

Other -- Oneshot while I deal with writer's block.

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You don't have to be alone to be lonely.

As far as an outside observer could tell, James Potter was a happy young man. He was constantly surrounded by a gaggle of friends, admirers, fangirls, and teachers, being praised and adored. There was hardly a moment when he was not with either Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, or Peter Pettigrew.

For all his friends, James couldn't help but feel... empty. Like something was missing.

When he first saw Lily Evans, he felt that she held the key to his loneliness. She was pretty, she was popular, she was kind, and she was smart. But he never felt the attraction like a few of his friends did. Peter Pettigrew made him listen to all sorts of horrible poetry that would never be sent, and he wished dearly that he could think up a mess of grammatical and spelling errors to mope over.

Anything to make himself feel normal. When he was Lily, he felt like she was supposed to be his sister. Someone near and dear, but not dating material. Sirius goaded him daily to make his move, to be a man. And everyday he shook his head and replied with a sort of sad, "Maybe tomorrow, Sirius."

James had the swagger of someone who's head was twice the size that it should be, and he had the popularity to back it up. But it seemed that none of his friends could read his inner feelings. All they saw was the proud boy -- for he couldn't come to call himself a man -- with the world at his feet.

And he was happy to let them see that.

There was one person he itched to get closer to, but, of course, talking to Severus Snape was social suicide. Not even the Slytherins talked to him. He had no friends, though Lily extended him the same kindness she gave to everyone else. Severus was often sighted hanging on the fringes of a group of dark young men lead by Lucius Malfoy.

Snape couldn't seem to get it right when it came to social based skills. While James didn't know any of the answers, but spoke anyways, Snape knew it all and said nothing. People thought James was clever; people thought Snape was secretive and nasty.

James never thought he'd want a friend in the 'greasy git'. That was the nickname clinging to the poor guy at the moment. But... here he was, yearning to talk to and, even if he would never admit it, become close to his social opposite.

Gryffindors did not associate with Slytherins. Especially the Slytherin outcasts.

It was something about the way Snape held himself, James mumbled to himself. It was an awkward stance, shoulders hunched, but head held jutted out like a vulture's, almost as if he was afraid someone would strike him, but he wanted to see the world anyways. Snape's knees jutted out, as did his elbows, almost stork-like, making all his motions clumbsy and ungraceful.

James could only smile at the sight of Snape bobbling through the halls, pressed against the wall, hoping not to be noticed. But he was, even it was only by James.

For all James wanted to get closer to Snape, perhaps explore the confusing feelings that bubbled up in his stomach when he made rare eye contact with the object of his obsession, Snape seemed deadset on avoiding James.

The pressure from his friends to tease Snape was growing, as was the pressure to date Lily.

James closed his eyes, breathing deeply. When he opened his eyes again, he boldly strode to Lily, smirking dashingly, "Hey."

You might as well give in.