Author: Elrohir (of Elladan and Elrohir)
Disclaimer: I don't own anything pertaining to Harry Potter. End of story.
Summary: one shot ficlet: completed After years if despising him, she can't hate him any longer. L/J
Can't Help Laughing
Sunlight; It glints on the shiny red enamel of the train, shines dappled through the misty drops falling from the sky, hides itself behind low clouds only to appear again. The voices of hundreds of excited students mingle with the sound of twice as many feet rushing across the cobble-stoned ground, so that a quiet roar permeates all corners of the dripping station. A particularly large raindrop lands on the round glasses of a boy, distorting the view of a girl halfway across the platform. He sweeps off the glasses, scrubbing angrily at the offending water with the sleeve of his black robes. When he replaces them, the girl has vanished. The boy dives into the chaos of the crowd, eager to find her again.
The boy is skinny, dark-haired and hazel-eyed, with an air of arrogance to hide all sensitivity. He ruffles his hair as he runs through the station, ever in search of her. The boy is James Potter. Born into a wizarding family, he has attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for the past six years. His eyes ever follow her form, watching. He is ready to try again.
The girl is Lily Evans. She fascinates him, and for years she has been the object of his undying affection. She runs through the sodden station, bent double to shelter the many books clutched in her arms. Her small rectangular glasses sit long forgotten on her head, glinting and shimmering under the pelting September rain. Her chin-length auburn locks hang, dripping, in the way of her evergreen gaze; she stumbles on a loose cobblestone she hadn't seen. A hand shoots out to catch her—his hand. She blinks away the raindrops clinging to her lashes but avoids his eyes; instead she kneels on the wet ground to retrieve her books from a muddy puddle, tiny rivulets of water seeping into her sandals.
She stands now, and tilts her head to look up at him, giving a tiny smile. He smiles back, almost sure of himself this time, sure that for once he might stand a chance. Sure that she just might not hate him as much as she used to, sure that for once he just might be able to say the right thing…
"Good thing I was there to catch you." His smile vanishes, and regret swamps him with a cold wave more effectively than the rain ever had. He has said the wrong thing, the kind of thing he always says and never means. He knows it was wrong, his face shows his realization plainly. Her reaction is small; her jaws clenches, her eyes harden, the tiny smile vanishes. He looks away, to better weather the storm. But it doesn't come, and her looks back at her. The anger has faded from her face, she tilts her head and looks up at him, pityingly. A slight smile creeps back across her face, and finally she speaks.
"You're just—" She can't help it; she laughs. "You're just so hopeless, Potter." And with that, she turns and walks toward the scarlet train.
He simply stands there, watching.