Summary: Lily won't admit anything, even to her dormitory ceiling.
Word count: 493
Author's notes: Inspired by my life, tbh. Might have more chapters in the future, but for now, I consider it complete. Enjoy!
The problem with fancying James Potter, Lily thinks, is that she can't stay angry with him anymore. She used to be the only one of his peers who could stand up to him and his bullying ways, but then war had broken out – and in sixth year, he'd returned from his Christmas break as an orphan. And it isn't that she pities him – she doesn't believe that loss, no matter how devastating it is, is an excuse to strike out at others – it's that James Potter didn't just come back as an orphan, he came back as a man.
He's quieter now; more pensive, less rash. He no longer takes his pleasure in bullying others; in fact, his marked improvement apparently made such an impression on Dumbledore that he appointed James Headboy. Even Lily can admit that James has taken to the mantle with grace. It doesn't mean that he no longer laughs or plays pranks or makes a dirty joke every now and then – it's just that now, everything he says and does is laced in good-naturedness and good intentions, and quite frankly, Lily is smitten with this new James. It's for this reason that when she glares at him and his friends for making too much noise in the library, it's a halfhearted effort.
The Marauders are presenting Madame Pince with an obnoxious bouquet of flowers for her birthday, and the old lady seems torn between throwing them out on their behinds for singing – singing! – in the library or hiding a giggle behind her hands. She seems to settle for sitting stiffly in her librarian's chair and accepting the bouquet with the smallest inclination of her head. Then she jabs a finger back at their table. The boys take the hint and with parting greetings of, "Have a good birthday, gorgeous!" and "Love you, Pince!" they retreat back to their table.
They settle down into their seats with mischievous smirks on their faces, snickering and giving each other high-fives for a good deed done loudly.
Lily can only stare, her expression caught between half-annoyed and half-amused. She is still trying to decide which emotion to settle with when James Potter catches her staring amid his friends' not-so-silent revelry. Looking slightly abashed, he nudges a laughing Sirius in the ribs while directing a sheepish smile toward her, all crinkled eyes and dimples. Lily imagines that it is the same exact look that always bailed him out of trouble when he was a young child and consequently made him into the spoiled teenager she had despised. It is also the same exact look that is her undoing in the present moment, but she refuses – refuses – to be like the indulgent caretakers who had babysat him. Instead, she just looks away, knowing that later, when she's in bed, she'll think back on this moment and turn her face into her pillow, refusing to let even the dark ceiling of her dormitory see her smile.
