Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author's Note: Short. One-shot. Tell me what you think.
He's staring at me. I can feel it. Again. His eyes are boring into my back and I can't tell if it's comforting or disturbing. I keep telling myself that it's beyond disturbing, but I have this horrible feeling that I'm lying to myself.
I know what he is thinking. He knows what I am thinking. We know each other far too well.
He is sitting right behind me. I don't like it. I kind of wish the floor would open up and swallow me whole.
But wishes are for dreamers and I am not a dreamer. I am a realist.
I am.
I think.
"Lily," he whispers in my ear, leaning forward.
I close my eyes, taking a deep breath, grounding myself.
"You look beautiful today." His exhale is hot on my face. It ruffles my hair.
He picks up one shining red lock, fingering it, twirling it.
"Potter," I say, twisting away. My voice is a warning. He understands.
"Until later," is the last thing he murmurs.
I can't help the chills spiraling through me. It would have happened with anyone, not just him. Honestly.
Professor Binns drones on. He doesn't notice my discomfort. I hope that means because I'm such a fabulous actress and not because he is just exceedingly unobservant.
Three minutes. Three minutes and I would be in Charms, a subject where Potter and his own personal charm could not distract me.
"You're watching the clock again, Lily." He is back next to my ear. I don't like what this is making me feel. "How do you think that makes poor Professor Binns feel? You really should pay more attention, love. You never know when there's going to be an essay."
"Shove off, Potter."
"Twelve inch essay. Goblin war of 856. Tomorrow," Binns monotone bleeps. With that last command, he floats through the blackboard, not hearing the groans of his apathetic students.
Brilliant.
"Told you," he mussitates. I can hear his grin. The git.
I ignore him. That's really the best thing to do. That way, you don't fall for his undeniable charm. He has this way of bewitching people, girls especially, without even meaning to. I do not think this has anything to do with being a wizard, though I wish I could blame it on that. It's just like him to be so unintentionally alluring... perfect.
He falls into step beside me as we meander off to Charms.
"Are you upset because I was right or because you were wrong?"
As usual, he hits almost close to home.
"Both... Neither..." I take a deep breath. I am stumbling over my words. Merlin. What the fuck is going on? "Bugger off."
He merely grins.
We step into the Charms classroom. The professor is late. Again. Of course.
James plops down into the seat next to mine. I turn. I glare. He is insufferable.
The class starts. My mind wanders, mostly to James, though I despise myself for it.
His leg is less than a centimetre from mine. I can feel the warmth radiating from it. I want to press my own leg against his, so I can feel the heat, but I don't. I control myself. I stay Lily Evans.
I don't think that Charms has even taken this long before. It drags on longer than History of Magic ever has.
Finally, the bell rings. With a loud huff, I pick up my books, dramatically rushing from the room.
He catches up with me easily, his long legs taking one stride for every three of mine.
"Lily, love, what's wrong with you today?" Why the hell is he being so... kind? "Why are you so angry with me?"
"Because, Potter," I say. I'm sure that there is a brilliant follow up to my "because", but it seems to be hiding.
All of a sudden, he whirls in front of me. We are stopped right in the center of the corridor. People are streaming around us.
His eyes are burning down into mine. I hate it when he that. I hate that he can do it at all. He should absolutely not be able to.
Then, his left hand grabs my right wrist and he yanks me across the hall and into an empty classroom.
Oh, no.
He's just staring at me. Not glaring, not gazing, just staring. Staring in that, I'm-waiting-and-I'll-keep-waiting-until-you're-ready, really patient way.
I swear, he does these types of things just to get to me.
"What?" So, it was working. He really, really, really, was getting to me.
"I'm waiting," he says simply, as if I hadn't already realised.
"For?" I prompt after a few moments of silence.
"The second half to your answer."
Like I hadn't already known that.
"Are you going to give it to me?" His patience is rapidly decreasing. I almost feel bad for putting him through this, but it wouldn't be happening if he hadn't goaded me. It really is his entire fault.
"No." I don't look him in the eye. Instead, I star at a stone above his head.
"For Christ's sake, Lily, look at me."
I don't
"Fine." I think he's angry. If not, he's a least a bit frustrated. I'm starting to feel guilty.
He's coming closer. He's so close, all I can see is him. His fair skin. His unruly ebony hair. The shining glass of his spectacles. I still don't look him in the eye. He leans in for a kiss, but I turn my head.
"No, James." My voice is quiet. The defiance sounds more feeble than I mean it to be. "Not today."
"What did I do, Lily?" He rests his forehead against mine for half a moment, then decides against it, pulling away. He runs one large hand over his face, under his glasses.
I look away.
"You weren't like this yesterday," he murmurs.
"I know."
"Or the day before."
"I know."
"Or the day before that."
"I know, James."
"Then what did I do?" he says, so softly I can't be sure he meant for me to hear it. And then, his voice is abruptly louder. "What could I have possibly done from the time you were sitting on that desk" – here, he points to the table in the far corner— "with your legs wrapped round me to know? Eh? What did I do, Lily?"
"You make me feel things I don't want to!" I shout. "I don't want to notice you sitting behind me in class. I don't want to think out the warmth of your skin. I don't want to be unable to concentrate during lessons. I don't want to ever think about you."
His eyes turn soft. They melt. So do I.
"What I want is to completely forget about you. I want to just walk away and never ever feel the compulsion to look back. But I can't." I am whispering at the end. I feel like one of those sad girls in those Muggle films. It's ridiculous and pathetic, but I can't help it.
"Did you ever think, Lily, that if you just let yourself feel what you feel, you might be a hell of a lot happier," he says, voice soft and kind, but still frustrated.
"Well... no," I admit.
"Try."
One word. One word that can change everything. It can change my entire existence. It can change my entire future. It can change my entire being.
Do I want it to?
Yes, my mind whispers. So I try. I let everything I've been holding back rushing through the gates. It pours over me, almost drowning me, and I see everything I chose not to before.
He sees it in my eyes, but he wants to be sure.
"How did it go?" he asks, a phantom smile playing on his lips.
"Good, I think," I say.
"What do you feel?" I can see that he is internally bracing himself, cautious of the words that I may or may not say.
"I feel like..." I try to voice the emotions surging through me, the emotions that have been surging through me for months. "Like... I love you."
His eyes roam over my face. He sees the honesty so purely displayed. He hears it in my voice, my tone. Then, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.
He is close to me again. He presses his forehead to mine, but this time, he doesn't pull back.
"Thank you," he says, "for trying."
I smile and whisper, "anytime", brushing my lips across his.
And I take in his fair skin, and his unkempt ebony hair. I feel the warmth of his skin and I taste his breath on my lips.
Try.
One word that changed the world.