This is Us

by birchermuesli


Title: This is Us
Author: birchermuesli
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance/Humour
Disclaimer: This is Us is a fanfiction based upon characters and situations owned or created by J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros. Inc., Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and other publishers. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.


Author's Notes:

Hello everybody, I'm back! This is just a little something that I wrote on a whim this morning, but at any rate I do hope that you enjoy it. :)


Dance.

I've never liked a dance – especially the ballroom type. My feet generally seem to find themselves terribly muddled and confused (they really are quite a great reflection of their owner) and I wind up most of the time taking a brilliant, brilliant land.

On my arse.

Yeah. Like what will inevitably happen now, for instance.

Because I was at that stupid ball which James Potter stupidly proposed to have, in light of Gryffindor's Quidditch Cup victory. Or, if you like, he marched the idea up to Professor McGonagall with my utter lack of consent, and of course McGonagall was all too pleased to accept the idea. Anything to celebrate a Gryffindor-Slytherin triumph.

Hmph.

And so during the aforementioned ball, stupid James Potter with that unnervingly handsome face walked up to me, who previously was cowering away into the shadow of a dark corner. Without even asking (yet again - he seemed to be making a habit out of that) he tugged my arm towards the dance floor.

And – just my luck – when get there a slow song began to play.

I don't know. Does he just plan it like that?

Or maybe I just hope that he did.

Obviously I couldn't run away, because my face was burning, I was shaking and I had become a hot puddle mixed with embarrassment, nervousness and all sorts of lusty emotions which I absolutely shouldn't have been and couldn't have been feeling towards Mr. James Potter.

There are many reasons for this, including:

1. Well, he's James Potter. The world must not be so cruel as to make me fall for such an obnoxious boy with such a ridiculously large fan club.

2. My pathetic puddle of lusty emotions would be entirely drowned out by my puddle of utter embarrassment and humiliation if he ever found out, which with his intelligence and perceptiveness I'm sure that he will.

3. But most, most, most of all? He has a girlfriend.

4. Yes. James Potter has a girlfriend. (And it's not me.)

5. A GIRLFRIEND.

6. She's bloody perfect. Rhiannon deLoreche, Sixth Year Hufflepuff student. Not the prettiest or the smartest girl out there, but everybody likes her anyway because she's just so damn nice and likeable and happy all the time. Even I can't help but like her. Trust Potter to choose the irritatingly perfect girls.

7. And she's just got such a unique name, as well – Rhiannon deLoreche. Sounds all elegant and lovely and just rolls off your tongue so nicely, but if you would ever look up her surname in a French dictionary (which I in fact did, with the great help of my lovely library who, unlike James Potter, will never desert me) you'd discover that 'de Loreche' means 'of the rock'. That gives even more points for Rhiannon deLoreche because she's elegant but so cool and rebel-like, of the rock, at the very same time.

8. Now, how am I supposed to compete with that? I am so ordinary that it's a joke. I am of an ordinary height, five-feet-five-inches; I have an ordinary face, not too ugly, not too pretty (definitely not too pretty); and really, the only thing that sticks out about me is my hair.

9. It's wavy and the colour of an ugly, blushing carrot.

10. Yes, that's me. I am Lily Evans.

Oh, look at me now – I'm misusing my numbers and I've personified a library. What in Merlin's name has gone wrong?

But back to my first point. Potter and Black – their fan clubs are quite astonishingly large, actually. I think it's just a rather interesting thing to point out, not that it relates back to anything. Most of them go for both – Potter-and-Black – and others claim to be purely only Potter or only Black fans. 'Jamesy' and 'Siri', to be precise. Some declare that they are entirely repulsed by both Potter and Black, but in fact harbour a secret attraction, unbeknownst to anyone else.

That's me.

Not Sirius – don't make me shudder till the next century, please. No, only James.

Still, how terribly mortifying.

Mortifying.

Utterly mortifying.

One day, somebody should make a Venn diagram just to see exactly how many of these people there are in Hogwarts – ones that are associated in some way with the Potter and Black spell, that is. I would be interested to calculate the probabilities of them having a serious chance – pah, more like a one night fling – with either of them.

So, back to what I was trying to say before. James and I – oh, it feels so nice to say that – James and I were dancing. Or rather, he had grabbed my waist with one of those knowing grins of his and ordered, "Dance." My cheeks still flushing the colour of beetroot red, I put my hands around his neck and tipped my head up ever-so-slightly to meet his gleaming, mischievous gaze.

See? We were even at the perfect height for each other. Not too tall, not too short. Stupid Rhiannon 'of the rock' deLoreche was the height of a giraffe, just slightly taller than James. And I am a big, big supporter of shorter-girls-taller-guys. Especially when it comes to… well, no matter about that.

So here I was trembling as much as the first time I mounted a broomstick, and here was James looking so hot and sexy in his ironed white shirt, with the first two buttons unbuttoned.

Or was it three?

"Nice night, eh Evans?" he remarked as we rocked along to the beat, me stumbling over his feet every so often and him ignoring it every time. The song we were dancing to was called Time for Some Magic by Minimal Maestros – an old favourite of mine.

He probably knew that.

"Why did you, why did you…" I stuttered, quickly averting my gaze from his face. Bad decision – it went to his chest instead, which, at my proximity to him and the added fact that two of his buttons were unbuttoned, I could partially see at a very, very nice view.

"Why did I what?"

My cheeks burned even more, if that was even possible. "Why did you bring me out here to dance?" I wailed. "You know that I'm terrible at this stuff!"

"Do I really know that, sweet Lily?" he said, and even though it was in an obvious mocking tone my heart couldn't help but jump a little. James pulled me in a little closer. "You never dance with me," he continued cheerfully.

"For a good reason, too," I grumbled, glaring daggers at the ground.

"But Lily, the Head Boy and Head Girl have got to have at least one dance together! I'm sure it's a tradition of some sorts—"

"You're positively medieval!" I interrupted with a snap, shifting my fierce glower to his face.

But then I was met with those large and soft hazel eyes, and my mind went black. My eyes widened and my lips parted a little.

Damn that James Potter. I would not fall for him.

My mouth shut immediately, and I hardened my jaw in a determined manner. James once told me back in Sixth Year that I did that all the time during exams.

James cocked an eyebrow at this, but it didn't deter him. "Maybe medieval is the new thing, then?" he replied seriously. "Because the last time I checked, the fan club standings were quite high. Forty-six, I believe?"

"Fifty-three," I muttered back.

I heard a laugh. Then the slow song drew to an end, and my inner shameless self sulked a little when James' hands departed from the small of my back. They ruffled my hair a little. "Nice dancing with you, Evans," he said with a small tip of his head. He grinned. "You're fantastic. Just a natural, really."

I blink in the realisation that no, I did not in fact land on my buttocks this time round.

How strange.


"This dance, or formal, or ball, or whatever you call it," announced Alice, "is the most boring thing I have ever been to." She knocked her head lightly against the wall, closing her eyes and letting a soft groan out from her lips. "I mean, honestly, there aren't even any good guys around."

"You're only saying that because Frank isn't here," I said, aimlessly gazing over the crowd. James and Rhiannon were doing a horrible imitation of the salsa to what was a very Latin-Americanish type song.

Okay, fine. So it wasn't horrible. He was a damn good dancer, and she was a damn good dancer. Only I had two left feet.

James whispered something into Rhiannon's ear, and I watched closely as her eyes widened and she let out a small giggle, slapping him lightly on the arm. Wuss. At least I could hit harder than that.

"Evans!" a cheery voice interrupted my thoughts. "I've heard that your skills in dancing absolutely surpass the imagination. May I?"

I groaned, flicking my eyes towards the boy in front of me. Tall, dark, handsome - Sirius Black. His eyebrows were raised, and a small smirk was playing on his lips.

Sirius and I had gotten closer in the past few months – I don't know if it was because he wanted to get on my good side so that I would feel guilty to give him a detention when catching him snogging a girl (which was definitely not an uncommon occurrence), or if he genuinely decided that I was, well, an okay girl to hang around with. After I had, as Sirius had put it, "pulled the stick out of my arse", I found that he was actually quite a nice guy to hang around with. He was funny, smart and likeable, and sometimes I just couldn't help but take a mild fascination to how many girls he had actually managed to make out with in an entire school year.

"Fifty-three," he had said to me last night with a proud voice. We were by the Gryffindor fire, having just finished our Charms essay. Or rather, I had been busily writing up the Charms essay whilst he waited for James to come back after Quidditch practice so that they could plot a couple of pranks together. Psh, boys.

I cocked an eyebrow, not impressed. "Fifty-three?"

"Yeah," he continued. "Every member of my fan club."

"Ha ha, Black. You just crack me up with your wit." I tipped my head. "But really," I said, not able to contain my curiosity. "What do you see in them? Why do you even bother to waste your night like that?"

"It's great exercise, snogging fifty-three girls in a year," he replied solemnly, and placed a hand to his chest. "Especially with me not doing Quidditch."

"You did not snog fifty-three girls, Black."

"Did so," he bit back.

"How's Prongs?" voiced Sirius in real life, bringing me back out of my thoughts.

My face turned an unsightly shade of red. Luckily it wasn't dark in the place we were standing, though I suspected he knew anyway. I shot him a challenging glance. "How's Emmeline?" I countered, ignoring his last question.

Sirius' face immediately fell a little beneath that mask of ease. "Don't know, don't care," he replied back in an unruffled tone.

Yeah, right.

I bit back a grin, instead choosing to tease him more instead. Emmeline Vance was one of Sirius' few soft spots – he had, despite what his latest snogging adventures may suggest, a huge crush on her. He refused to admit it, but I just knew. Maybe it's a girl thing.

"Emmeline's looking pretty hot right now, isn't she?" I commented cheerfully.

Sirius' gaze shifted to her. She was up at the table getting a drink. I watched with some amusement as Amos Diggory walked up from behind her, gently tugging at the beauty of her chocolate brown hair which was done up for the occasion. She spun around, looking slightly surprised. He unsuccessfully attempted to start up a conversation.

Sirius' smirk was open now. "Ah, don't I love it when Diggory gets rejected," he said, stretching out his arms above his head with a contented sigh. "Never gets old."

"It never happens."

"Until now."

"Or until the girl decides to ditch him to become one of many members of your fan club."

Sirius grinned, nodding at me appraisingly. "You know," he turned to Alice, thrusting a thumb at me, "the girl can actually be quite smart at times. Did you know that? She's bagged the Head Girl role, gets stunning grades, knows a good man when she sees one—"

"Really?" said Alice.

"Well, of course. Ever since this year she's been absolutely mad over Pr—"

"What?" I cut in sharply.

Alice let out a small giggle, then shook her head knowingly at me. "I'm off, you guys. See you." She left, heading towards Emmeline.

Sirius turned to me, all cheerful now. "Problem, Evans?"

I sighed. "If you just came over here to tease me about made-up theories on your part, Black, then you might as well just go now." I backed up that oh-so-impressive speech with a swift glare.

"You know, Evans, I was going to ask you for a dance since it would absolutely devastate me to see a girl like you all alone on a night like this." Sirius winked. "But," he continued in a lower voice, "just between you and me, I think Prongs would be awfully upset if I did. So au revoir then, I guess. Have fun."

Almost instantly, I jumped to my feet as if someone had just woken me up from a nightmare. Then Sirius was gone within a flash.

What?

What had he just said?

"Hey, Black!" I called out, but he couldn't hear me with the loud music beating in the room.

Suddenly feeling incredibly overwhelmed, I shut my eyes and turned towards the wall.

No. He must have been lying. But nevertheless, please excuse me whilst I attempt in vain to contain the many mini explosions of my now-frazzled heart. It's been a long night.


Hope you enjoyed, and have a great day. :)

~ birchermuesli