"Muse" by Ohnann (ohnannyahoo.co.uk)
James looked down at the empty piece of parchment in front of him. A drop of ink hung from the tip of his quill, threatening to adorn the parchment with a great big stain, as soon as it got a chance. Well, if it did, there would at least be something for him to turn in the following morning.
Everyone has that something, which turns out to be just impossible for them. James had found his nemesis: poetry.
Who had included poetry in the curriculum for Muggle studies?
He considered writing about quidditch, but that wasn't exactly something that a Muggle would appreciate. After another moment of thought, he considered writing about love. That was a topic that always would have its advantages, and appeal to everyone, no matter schooling or bloodline.
When the quivering drop of ink had seized to fascinate him, he looked up again, half-heartedly hoping that something inspiring would come skipping 'round the corner. Thus, he could hardly believe his eyes when he saw Lily Evans enter the library.
Immediately, James sighed deeply. The same dull ache he always felt within, when she was near, had returned. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her. Everything about Lily was to James like water to a thirsty man. The way she cradled her books, laughed with her friends, the way her hair danced when she moved; everything seemed so graceful, so perfect, so…
James's eyes widened, his grip on the quill hardened; the drop finally fell, staining the parchment as expected, but he didn't care.
After taking a deep breath, he dipped the quill in the inkpot, faced the parchment, and didn't look up for nearly ten minutes.
He had written a good four inches, and was trembling slightly when he lifted the result up to see what he'd accomplished. It was a little rugged, not at all making Lily justice, but at least it was true. With the poem done, he had the rest of the evening free to practise his poker face. The last thing he needed was to go beet red in front of the professor, and Sirius for that matter, when he handed it in the next day.
Lily was still standing on the same spot when he got up to leave; he would have to pass her on his way out.
"Hey, Potter! Are you done with McGonagall's paper?" It was one of Lily's friends, a lanky dark-haired girl, who asked. "I'm having so much trouble with it, and you always get good grades…"
"I finished yesterday… but I won't let you copy it. Ask Sirius or Rem… Ask Sirius, if you're that desperate. Oh, and you should be more careful around prefects." He gestured towards Lily, who had appeared behind his shoulder.
James turned to her, seizing every opportunity to look at her. He had to say something, anything.
"Hey Evans," he waved the parchment nonchalantly under her nose, though on the inside, he was deadly afraid that she would yank it out of his hand and read it aloud to the little group of girls. "You just helped me pass Muggle studies."
Lily looked bewildered at first, trying to catch a glimpse or the writing on the parchment. "That's… great. The more wizards who can understand Muggles, the better." Then she suddenly gave him a wide smile, one which made her eyes light up.
And just like that, another poem came to James's mind.
Fin