I felt like I needed to write a little fluff about the real, canonical Lily and James. You know, with his showing off, her constant but not over-dramatic rejections and wit. So I came up with this short one-shot...listen to the song Grace Kelly, by Mika, while you read. It fits really well. ;) And the story is named after it. In case you wondered.
Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling. Man, I wish I was. Then I'd have no problemos paying for college.
"Prongs, really? The library? We could be a million other places right now, doing a million other things..."
"We really need to research for that... Transfiguration paper, Padfoot."
"Not to be super obvious or anything, but you're not exactly researching anything right now, Prongs. Unless you include pretty redheads..."
"What could be better to research, Moony?" The boy ruffled his messy dark hair, leaning back in his chair to look down a row of bookshelves to a table at the other end.
A couple of young ladies at that table glanced back at him, a little quizzically. He gave them a smile and a small wave, making every one of them explode into a fit of giggles. Except one, steadfastly staring at the book in her hands.
The boy leaned back a little farther in his chair, trying to catch a glimpse of the face framed by that pretty red hair... CRASH!
He was suddenly flat on his back, glasses askew, and with an extremely annoyed librarian shushing him loudly. The table of girls erupted in an even bigger fit of giggles, and upon adjusting his glasses, James could see that he now had the attention of a certain green-eyed redhead, who was looking at him accusingly.
He grinned widely and waved again, this time calling out, "Hiya, Evans!" The librarian shushed him again, but he paid no attention, and proceeded to run a hand through his hair cockily, still flat on his back, as if he had planned it that way.
The girls burst into full-on laughter now, causing the long-suffering librarian to shush them as well. As the dark-haired boy finally jumped up and dusted himself off, Lily Evans rolled her eyes and turned back resolutely to her book.
"That was so adorable! How can you not like him, Lily? He obviously adores you!" Mary MacDonald gushed in a loud whisper.
"James Potter," asserted Lily firmly, "Is insufferable. And he likes me just about as much as a hippogriff likes a ferret. Only as long as I'm his prey." She propped up the book a little more. "He only likes the chase. Stalking, for example. He seems to enjoy that very much."
Ah, youth, and its mildly pleasurable insincerities. Review, REVIEW!! Please!!
~Pepper Lane