Disclaimer: The characters, background story or anything else you recognise belong to J.
James walks in through the library doors, making his way towards the transfiguration section where he was supposed to meet Lily. They were supposed to meet there at seven to complete their homework on human he turns around the edge of another bookshelf he catches sight of her, sitting on one of the many benches in that section.
She's tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, eyebrows scrunched up, chewing her lip as she tries to make sense of some obscure text in the book. She looks up at him, perhaps sensing his gaze and gives him a shy and confused smile. And in that instant with her face bathed in the warm glow of the torches hanging on the wall, with her hair cascading down her back and a few stray strands in those green eyes, he marvels at how a simple tug of her lips tugged at the strings of his heart, mind and body.
James tries to clear his mind. He is seventeen for Merlin's sake. And she makes him feel things, he thinks, no teenager has felt. She made his heart beat faster with a sarcastic smirk, while her soft eyes soothed his over working mind whenever he allowed himself a glance at them. One instant she could look at him, eyes lit up like bloody Christmas, a laugh bubbling at her lips and he would want to hold her in his arms, place a kiss to her forehead and make him wish that they could stay like that forever. Another moment she could be chewing her lip and looking at him through her lashes, Merlin save him from those bloody lashes, and all he wants to do is pull her body flush against his, crash his lips against her, while their tongues battled for control, his teeth nipping at her lower lip and his thumb working circles against her hip, her hands tangled in his hair, and they only stopped to allow themselves the luxury of air.
He thinks of how he wants to make midnight trips with her to the kitchen in their pyjamas and messy hair. He wants to go to balls with her, where he knows she'll put goddesses to shame in silk and satin with her hair all done up and diamonds shown because they adorned her. He wants to stay locked up in a cottage with her, just the two of them, playing all sorts of board games where she'd pout at him when she lost or give him a victorious smirk when she won and they'd survive only on hot chocolate and marshmallows all day. But he also wants to see the entire world with her. Visiting cafes, clicking weird pictures of each other while they were goofing around, take in the sight of historical monuments, beads of perspiration rolling down their foreheads after a long day off trekking, holding hands as they discovered places unknown to them.
He wants to know everything about her. From what her favourite colours are, to what her comfort food is. He wants her to tell him how she met her best friend, what made her cringe, and what is the one thing she loathes the most. He also wants to know what she wants to do after Hogwarts, what she thought was the best way to tackle the growing unrest in the magical world, whether she thinks they would come out of the war unscathed, and would she fight or would she hide, what she thinks of the economy and politics of the Wizarding World. He wants to ask her about her favourite Quidditch team, about how many kids she wants to have, about how she thought she would die, what her Boggart was, and so on. He also wants her to know about every thought running through his mind, he wants to tell her how he spent the entire day and then hear about hers. He thinks he could probably spend his entire life getting to know everything about her and it still wouldn't be enough to him.
He wants to keep her hidden from the world, like she was only his to devour, not wanting the world and its opinion to ruin them. But at the same time he wanted to stand on the top of the Astronomy Tower and tell the entire world how lucky he was to have her. But he also knows that, that wasn't what she wanted right now. What she wanted, and he needed , was, to get a grip and to try to lessen the burning feeling in his chest which some might call love, so that they wouldn't crash from soaring too high. Because no matter how badly how much he wanted everything aforementioned, he also knew that they'd both come a long way from where either of them thought they'd ever be. And while, yes, there was potential for more, and James was almost positive that she felt quite the same about him, he would rather not risk everything that they were now. Because he'd misjudged many-a-Times before and 'almost sure' wasn't always quite enough. Not when it came to them. So for now he contended himself with stealthy glances and loaded silences, which both of them knew, carried so much weight but both afraid of what figuring it out would mean.
And as she made space for him on the bench, signalling to the space beside her and giving him a brilliant smile, he thought that maybe, just maybe, he could be content with whatever he had just now.
The End.