Disclaimer: I can honestly say, without any hesitation, that I own nothing but the basic plot, and even then I'm sure there's a bit lacking in originality.
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Comfort Food
A Story Repulsive to the Pallet, but Nourishing for the Heart
"I hate you!" Lily screamed.
"I hate you!" Justin yelled back.
"We are so over!" she said, just to make things perfectly clear.
"They've been over!" he shot back. "Go back to your ice castle, princess!"
He stormed away. Lily sighed.
She didn't really hate Justin, per say; she just hated his hands. They tended to wander to places she wasn't willing to share with anyone else yet. This seemed to happen with boys she went out with. At first, they were sweet and wonderful and perfect gentlemen. This was Week One.
Week Two consisted of kissing and handholding, and sometimes, if she was attracted to them enough, lap-sitting. This was also the week where more personal things were shared, like fears and hopes and dreams. She was open about wanting to be a Charms inventor in the future which apparently felt intimate to her current boyfriend. If they had asked any teacher or any Charms club member, their perspective may have been less skewed.
And then there was the dreaded Week Three. The boys had, at this point, gotten it into their heads that groping was okay now she had revealed something "intimate" about herself. Groping was not okay by Week Three. She made this clear, only to be ignored at a later date.
The second or third offences, depending on how much Lily liked the guy, was when these episodes would occur. No more boyfriend.
This time, it was Day Seven of Week Three, and the fourth offence.
Lily had really liked Justin. She'd overlooked his hands, boob-magnets as they were, because of his sweetness. However, one can only overlook so much when one is uncomfortable.
She set off to the Gryffindor Common Room, hoping no one had heard about her latest failed relationship.
"Lily! Did you really break up with Justin?"
"Did you really say you hated him?"
"Oh my gawd, wasn't it almost Week Four?"
"It was his fourth offence, right? No one's gotten a fourth offence before!"
"Enough!" Lily shouted, and the questions ceased. "How do you people know this stuff so quickly?"
A rabble of voices tried to answer her question all at once. It sounded like a badly tuned radio. Lily threw up her hands and walked right back out of the Common Room.
There was only one place left to go, and no one would stop her from going. No one!
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James absolutely, positively, without a doubt, hated his father. At least at the moment. Most of the time Mr Potter was a fairly reasonable man, who listened to James' thoughts and valued his opinions.
Right now, he didn't.
Right now, Mr Potter was very adamant that his son do some serious kiss up. The Minister's son had damn well get Head Boy next year, or it would look bad for the position. All of it, down the drain.
It didn't make much difference to the Minister of Magic (a.k.a. Dad) that James and his friends had caused far too much ruckus to even entertain the notion. The fact that Remus Lupin was a prefect still got some laughs from the four of them, and it had been a year since the anomaly occurred.
No, Dad wanted a perfect looking son, and if it meant that James had more brown on his nose than potential Slug Club members, then that's what would happen, goddammit.
Hence the hatred.
"I mean," James complained to his friend, Peter Pettigrew, "Isn't it enough that I'm a good guy? I don't go running around, advertising all the good stuff I've done because that shouldn't matter. What matters is who I am, right?"
"That, and most of the good stuff you've done is at least against school rules, not to mention illegal," Peter pointed out.
James sulked. "Well, it sounded better when I was righteously angry," he said.
Peter laughed and clapped him on the back. "Prongs, I can't remember the last time you did something right that wasn't wrong at the same time."
"Hey! I did your homework when you were passed out!" said James.
"My point proven," the shorter boy told him.
James fumbled around for something else he did that was entirely clean. "Well, I …I helped Mary McDonald with her Transfiguration two weeks ago!"
"Because you wanted to snog her," Peter said patiently. "Sorry, mate, but you're fighting a losing battle. It's like combing your hair flat."
The prod at James' hair was not duly noticed, and the wrath of James' Look of Death was unleashed.
Peter frowned. "Prongs, your eye is spasming," he noted.
"It's the Look of Death," James tried to explain. "You're supposed to be cowering right now."
"Really, Prongs," sighed Peter. "I know you hate that you've got to suck up, but there's bugger all you can do about it. So, if I was you, I'd haul myself over to Dumbledore's office, tell him what a pretty beard he's got, and be a little angel this year."
This sounded wholly unattractive to James, who got up from the desk he'd been occupying and stomped out of the empty classroom.
Dinner had finished up an hour ago, which meant that James, a growing boy of sixteen, was ravenous. Or he was in his mind. It was by far the best thing to do when depressing situations came up to head down to the kitchens.
Being forced to give up pranks for a year was a depressing situation.
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Lily reached the kitchens just in time to see a young man with hair that always seemed distinctly windswept tickling the pear in the portrait.
"No!" she exclaimed loudly, and James Potter turned to see who was protesting his presence.
"Oh… Evans, I don't really want to get into this right now," he groaned. "Can't you just look the other way?"
"Look the other way?" she was outraged. "How can I look the other way when we're both in the kitchens?"
This seemed to puzzle the boy. After several minutes of good, hard thinking, he said, "…Are you telling me that Lily Evans, goody two-shoes prefect, is sneaking down to the kitchens?" When he put it that way, Lily had to blush.
"You know, I just had a really bad break up," she told him. What was the point of secrecy – everyone else knew. "I'm not in the mood for you to bother me."
"Trust me, Evans," Potter said with a bitter laugh, "I don't have the energy to go there."
The two of them stood at odds for several long seconds. Lily remembered a time in first or second year when she and Potter were hardly at odds with one another. He was a shy boy with specs and she was a shy ginger head. They were easy to please, because a shy person doesn't need a lot to go on to be happy.
But then, once Quidditch season started in second year, Potter was suddenly a right cocky bastard who thought himself perfectly amazing. Lily was most irritated with this new boy because they had nothing in common anymore. She completely rejected his presence, and by fourth year it was a compliment of the highest order to say James Potter and Lily Evans were nothing alike whatsoever.
There was also the small – or not so small – matter of his torment of Severus Snape, who up until three months ago had been a very dear friend of hers. Sev, as she had called him, had introduced her to magic at the tender age of seven, and although his sketchy friendships with his fellow Slytherins had been a put off, Lily had stuck with her friend until he called her such a derogatory term she saw where their friendship would ultimately lead.
Not a good place, in the simplest of terms.
And then, lucky Lily, Potter had decided to fixate on her in bursts of flirtation or annoyance. She might possibly have gone out with him if he didn't give her such whiplash with his intentions. It had become painfully clear to her after the fifth attempt of dating that Potter would last past Day Three.
Now, here they were, standing outside the kitchens, entirely at a loss of how to proceed.
"Er…" Potter finally broke the ice. "How 'bout this; we just pretend that we're alone in there. No nothing. And we'll forget the whole thing ever happened later."
Natural instinct told Lily to argue with this, since Potter had come up with it. She resisted.
"Fine," she agreed. "Absolutely no communication. None. Whatsoever."
"Exactly."
Silence.
"I'll just, erm, open the door, then, shall I?" Potter said awkwardly.
"Right. Er… fire away."
He turned the pear-turned-into-a-doorknob and stepped inside, holding the door graciously open for Lily after him. This halfway attempt at chivalry surprised her, but the matter flew from her mind once two house-elves ran up to them.
"What can we be getting you, sir and miss?" the one on the left said in a particularly high voice.
"I'll take sausage patties soaked in maple syrup, and –" Lily broke off and looked at Potter incredulously.
He did the exact same thing, a look of horror on his face.
"That can't be your favorite, it's my favorite!" they spoke in unison again.
"No, it was my favorite first," Potter protested.
"I promise you, I ate this before anyone else did," she shot back.
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah!"
"My first sausage patty in maple syrup was on September 4, 1965!" Potter announced triumphantly.
"Well…" Here was a problem. Lily's first sausage patty in maple syrup was June 30, 1967. "Damn you," she muttered.
They turned back to the house-elves, who, to their credit, looked only mildly confused.
"Sausage patties in maple syrup for one or two, sir and miss?" the less squeaky elf enquired.
"Two." Lily really didn't like that they kept speaking the same thing at the same time. It wasn't just unsettling because of the regularity – it meant that she had something in common with James Potter, and that was Lily's greatest terror. Perhaps she had turned the wrong corner and ended up in a room with a Boggart.
"Anything else?" the super squeaky elf asked.
"Yes, two Twinkies deep fried, a bowl of coconut sorbet, peanut butter and mayo sandwich, and – bloody hell!"
They had done it again.
"Stop saying what I'm saying!" Lily hissed.
"You stop saying what I'm saying!" Potter said angrily. "This is my comfort food!"
"Your comfort food?" she was shocked. "I beg your pardon, James Potter, but this has always been my comfort food!"
"Oh yeah? I bet you're just saying things you think are disgusting, so you can gross me out!"
Now that was a low blow. "Peanut butter and mayo sandwiches are not disgusting!" she shouted, thoroughly offended. "It's a perfect combination! You're probably trying to gross me out! I knew you wouldn't actually pretend I wasn't here."
"You know what?" Potter said, rolling his eyes, "Forget this. Let's just finish ordering."
Lily cleared her throat. She and Potter exchanged a few wary side glances before finishing off their order.
"And spicy pork rinds."
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If James didn't know Evans would never go out of her way to bother him (he couldn't say the same in reciprocation), he'd have accused her of mimicking his every food request.
As it was, she seemed angry enough that they shared something. He had only one thing in common with Evans to his knowledge (prior to this encounter, of course), and that one thing was wishing to have nothing in common with said person. It was already unbearable that they shared most of the same classes, were in the same year, and resided in the same House.
Now, she ate bloody pork rinds when depressed. Pork rinds! Not even Sirius or Peter, whose stomachs were more like garbage disposals than internal organs, would dare touch the things.
James was cursed.
"Here you are, sir and miss," the house-elf with the unnaturally high voice said. James resisted the need to wince, sure that voice could break glass.
"Thank you," Evans said, always acting like a lady.
"Uh-huh," he muttered, and plopped down to immediately start on his sausage patties in maple syrup. He carefully cut a piece off, swirled it around on his fork to get as much syrup on the meat as possible, and shoved the bit in his mouth.
Evans groaned across from him.
James looked up to see her in mid swirl with a piece exactly like the one he'd devoured.
"I hate my life," she growled, and shoved the sausage piece in exactly the way he did.
"Yeah, well, join the club," he said, and repeated the cutting and swirling process. "I just found out we have way too many things in common, for starters."
They shoved syrup-laden sausage pieces into their mouths in perfect synchronicity.
"I mean, really, why couldn't've we at least come at different times?" she bemoaned.
Another piece.
"Life must really be against us," James agreed. "This sort of thing happens to people who have done something really terrible."
Swirl. Chomp.
"It's so unfair!" Evans said bitterly. "You'd think, coming down to get comfort food after a bad day, at least something would be looking up."
They moved onto their second pieces at the same time, cutting into the patty with the side of the fork. James admitted it was crudely American, and not something he'd do under normal circumstances, but eating his feelings was a profound exception. The redhead across him copied his movements exactly.
Damn it!
They finished their sausage patties in maple syrup in silence, then moved on to the coconut sorbet.
"Do you dip your Twinkies –"
"– in my coconut sorbet?" James finished. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I do."
They took their first two identical dunks and mouthfuls in a semi-awkward silence, until James plucked up his courage and asked, "So, break up with Coote, did you?"
Evans sighed. "Yeah. And I really liked him, too. I stretched it all the way to his fourth offence."
He nearly choked on the last of his first Twinkie. "Fourth? That's generous for you." of course, James knew all about Evans' strict dating policies. He'd memorized them in the vain hope that, if she ever said yes to his advances, he'd beat out the competitors with his gallantry through Week Three.
"Yeah, and on Day Seven of Week Three, too." She sighed, and they began on their second Twinkie. "It's a shame. I really thought he'd make it."
"Bit of a horny bastard, if you ask me," James said after they swallowed their first bite. "I mean, four offences in one week? Couldn't keep his hands where they belonged."
"They were boob-magnets."
Hearing Lily Evans say the word "boob" in a sentence was not something James thought he'd ever experience.
"Excuse me?"
"That… er, that sort of slipped out." She was blushing.
"Obviously," he said, and they polished off their Twinkies. "But, you're not kidding, are you?"
Evans shook her head and they picked up their spoons. "His hands were the negative to my breasts' positive. And I mean that in more than just the magnetic pole sort of way."
"I'll say they're positive," he muttered as they slurped the dissolving sorbet from the spoon, little by little. "So you dumped him?"
"It was less a dump and more of an all out screaming match," she admitted with an embarrassed smile. His comment about her tits had been overlooked, thankfully. "He reverted to the usual break-up line I get, so overall operation dump was a failure."
"You mean the whole 'ice princess' thing?" he asked as they dug in for another spoonful.
"That's the one."
"Well," he said awkwardly, "I'm sure any self-respecting girl would be… would be like ice to a, erm, to one of those hot-blooded blokes."
Evans looked at him appraisingly as they worked on their spoons. "Do you think you're not hot-blooded, Potter?"
He mentally hit himself. James' talent must be backing himself into corners, because he frequently found himself located in them. "I'd like to think I can back off if it's requested of me," he hedged. "I mean, well, I'm a teenage boy and all, but my dad would like it if I messed up a girl or something."
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Lily had never heard Potter talk about his dad before. Then again, she and him rarely talked.
"Is your dad a strict guy?" she asked sympathetically as they plowed methodically through the sorbet.
"He sort of has to be," Potter said in a manner that could be construed as embarrassed. "What with his job… the public image and all. Wouldn't do for me to do something really bad. Pranks, they're alright, because it's all in good fun, see? Forcing stuff, though, that's no good."
She frowned. "Public image?" she asked, confused. "What do you mean?"
"My dad's the Minister of Magic, Evans," he said with remarkable patience. "Surely you figured that bit out, what with his name being 'Potter' too."
"I just… I thought there were lots of Potters," she said, mortified by her lack of knowledge. "You know, how there's lots of Weasleys and Prewetts and Blacks."
"Nah, just me and mum and dad," he said. They finished off their bowls and pushed them aside. "And they're getting on in years, you know. Oh, and Sirius, he's my brother."
"Your brother?" Lily asked skeptically, taking her first peanut butter and mayo sandwich at the same time Potter did. "His name is Sirius Black, not Sirius Potter. Maybe you're confusing the term with friends."
"Well, he doesn't like his family, and they don't like him, so he's for all intents and purposes a Potter," he said.
They paused their conversation for a minute, rotating the sandwich around and chewing off the crust. Lily was amazed that the synchronicity was still in perfect condition. How the hell was this possible? This stuff was usually scripted, not spontaneous.
"So, it must be tough, being the son of the Minister of Magic," said Lily causally once they swallowed.
"Tell me about it," he moaned. "That's sort of what this is all about, actually."
"Sorry?" they took a bite at the corner.
"Dad wants me to be a good boy and get Dumbledore to make me Head Boy next year. I mean, look at me! I'm not cut out to be Head Boy, you know; I enjoy breaking the rules too much." Potter seemed genuinely upset.
Lily was also very confused as to what Potter's (unlikely) future as Head Boy could mean for the Minister of Magic. When she asked this, he laughed.
"Evans, they want to see the good son in the papers, not the rebel son they've got. I'm a bad publicity stunt."
"Is it always like this?" she felt pity for Potter, which was wholly unusual and not comfortable.
"Usually, no, not like this."
"So what's it like, then?"
Next sandwich; a small pause for decrustation, then,
"He asks me what I think. Likes to know my opinion on things. You know the Clearance Law?"
She knew it well. "What about it?"
"That was my idea." Potter looked distinctly proud of himself, but without the usual side effect of cockiness. Genuine pride, Lily decided, made the boy across her look rather adorable.
The thought of Potter looking adorable was so disturbing that she swiftly went back to Topic A. "So, you're down here because you don't want to sucker your way into Head Boy?"
He snorted. "That's the general idea."
They finished their sorbet in unison and shoved their bowls away.
Potter was about to pick his first pork rind when Lily said, "Hold on a moment."
He looked at her in confusion. To be honest, Lily was quite confused herself as to what she was doing, but she reassured herself it was perfectly experimental. So far, everything they'd done had been the same – why couldn't she test out the pork rinds and see for herself?
She got up and walked around the table with her stash in hand. A house-elf quickly placed a chair for her right next to Potter, whose face was utterly bewildered.
"I just want to see something," she murmured, and picked up one of the disgusting yet delicious concoctions. Slowly, testing out where she would want it, Lily tilted the puffed snack just so…
Potter's mouth opened and he took a bite just where Lily would have if it were her.
She smiled. "Just as I thought…"
Grabbing several pork rinds for her journey back to Gryffindor Tower, Lily placed the remaining bit inside Potter's mouth and wiped her fingers on his lips, and strolled out of the kitchens.
Her first thought, once she had come back to Earth, was What was that?
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What was that?
If it wasn't Lily Evans, he'd say she was flirting. However, as the girl in question happened to own that name, James was left to discern more obscure answers.
Was she possessed by some bizarre food-loving spirit? Did said food-loving spirit take control of her body and find him attractive? It had happened before… that is to say, Moaning Myrtle had watched him in the baths more often than he wanted to think about… actually, he never wanted to think about it. Ever.
Maybe she was in the throes of experimentation, and didn't realize how her actions might come off. James knew that she wanted to become a Charms inventor, so experimenting was like second nature to her.
But maybe…
Ha! As if. Lily Evans would never flirt with James Potter, not under any circumstances.
Though it couldn't hurt to dream…
Since the end of fourth year, James had (shamefully) fancied Evans. Well, no bloke in his right mind wouldn't. she was smart, kind, attractive, and Lord knows how much James liked the ginger appeal. Feisty things, redheads. Unpredictable.
James did not like predictability. Predictability was coffee on the table at eight every morning for twenty years. Predictability was listening to Sirius snore every night. Predictability was a clock chime on the hour. There was nothing to look forward to, because there was no question.
Today, he observed as he ate his pork rinds, was unpredictable. Evans was unpredictable. He'd thought he had her pegged – prefect, did the right thing, not a rule-breaker, that sort.
Apparently she ate the same comfort food he did in the exact same style in the exact same order. What a head turner.
Slightly unnerving was the fact that he was most likely taking a bite of her last pork rind in the exact same fashion at this very moment.
He got up to send his dad a letter, a bit impulsively, but well-intentioned and definitely a good idea.
It simply wouldn't do for there to be pressure on him to get all cozy with Dumbledore. If James Potter was Head Boy material, then something in the world was off-kilter. And besides, a year without pranking? Blasphemy.
On his way out of the kitchens, he ran into Sirius.
"Oh, hey mate!" the newcomer said delightedly. "You're sure you're done in there? Wouldn't mind the company."
"Nah, I'm good, Pads," said James distractedly.
"Huh." The fact that James was refusing food seemed an alien concept to Sirius. "Did you hear, though? Evans dumped Coote!"
James almost grinned, then caught himself. "Yeah, apparently tomorrow would be the start of Week Four. The idiot got kicked out on a fourth offence."
Sirius gaped. "Fourth? She must have really liked him to overlook that."
"Well, apparently his hands were boob-magnets."
"You don't say," the other boy mused. "Well, can't exactly blame him. wouldn't mind getting my hands on –"
"Don't talk about her like that," snapped James. The idea of anyone's hands on Evans' breasts made him feel very grouchy for some reason.
"Hey, you and I've both said it before."
He sighed, now confused with himself. Damn that pork rind! "I just… I don't think we should be talking about her like that."
James slouched off, again thinking, What was that?
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In the five weeks that followed the strange meeting in the kitchens, Lily experienced three significant events.
The first was that James Potter had taken to avoiding her, which was extremely unusual for him. not that she minded, of course, but Potter was normally hovering over her shoulder in either an attempt to drive her insane or drive her into his arms.
The second was that she was developing a peculiar interest in pineapple. Lily desperately wanted to try it with cottage cheese and pickles, though lacking the courage to do so in public. She also was afraid that she might run into Potter in the kitchens again for another episode of synchronized eating. This food desire was left alone as a constant, unfulfilled longing.
The third was that she was asked out by Alan Watson, and agreed. They were currently on Day Three of Week Four, and this was a large source of gossip for the school.
"I heard he only got one offence! Stopped once she said so!"
"He's been a perfect gentlemen!"
"No one's ever made Lily Evans' Fourth Week! That's a record, that is!"
"How did he do it?"
It was a good question. Up until this point, she'd never let anyone come near her breasts willingly. They'd sort of brought their punishment on themselves.
Alan, however, had made it to Week Four, and was now allowed to caress said area at any appropriate time. She enjoyed what a gentleman he was being, and on the whole her new boyfriend was very much her type of guy.
Yet there was something nagging at the back of her mind. It seemed to come up when he started touching her – mostly she had a bizarre urge to slap his hand away.
She shrugged it off.
However, it was on Day Three of Week Four, in a small alcove near the Great Hall, that something transpired.
Engaging in a particularly gratifying snog with Alan, Lily thought only a little of his hand on her breast. When his hand started to travel downwards to her crotch, it was an entirely different matter.
"What do you think you're doing?" she whispered as loudly as she could.
"It's Week Four, isn't it?" asked Alan, sounding alarmed. "That's when, you know…"
"Up here," she said, waving her hand around her chest, "Not down there!" Here, a pointed index finger. "I'm not a free for all!"
"Well, I mean, it makes sense," he said,
"No it does bloody well not make sense," she hissed. "Keep your hands to yourself, if you want that sort of action."
Alan looked thoroughly overwhelmed. "I didn't – I thought, well – oh, Coote was right. Bugger."
"What do you mean, Coote was right?" Lily asked sharply. Any mention of her most recent ex was not something she wished to encounter.
"He, erm, he told me that you were stricter than you ought to be," the poor boy mumbled. "That you didn't…" he trailed off.
Lily was appalled. "If that's what you think of this, then fine. Go." She pointed away from her. Alan got up hesitantly and shuffled off, leaving her alone.
After the initial anger wore off, Lily realized she was quite depressed. Watson wasn't that bad of a bloke; he just had the wrong idea. The dating system may have impressed the wrong idea on some potential boyfriends, she surmised.
Dinner was about to start, she realized dully, and headed into the Great Hall. The rumors were already buzzing around, but she paid them as little attention as possible. Later tonight, perhaps, she would indulge in her newfound food longing if it got bad.
Lily walked to the closest point to the door, ready for an escape route. She looked down the table, and nothing, nothing looked appetizing to her, proving once again that fate was conspiring against Lily Evans.
At that point, the buzzing in the Hall diminished into hushed murmurs.
She looked up.
Potter was walking straight towards her, a platter in one hand and several bags of pork rinds in the other. Her heart gave a funny little beat.
"Need a pick me up?" he asked, as though the past five weeks were not spent at arm's length from each other.
She shrugged.
With a flourish, Potter put down the platter and lifted the lid.
A few seconds of silence passed between them.
"I thought, well, since we have so much in common, you'd probably want some as well," he said nervously.
The platter bore thick slices of pineapple covered with cottage cheese and topped with pickle slices.
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(Author's Note): Aww… for the record, I wouldn't dream of eating half the things James and Lily do. But I still find this so cute! Hah, giddy.
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