Disclaimer:- Obviously, I own zilch
"Wherever you do, not Gryffindor." The words rang in Lily's ear, fresh as if they had only been uttered a minute ago. But in reality, it had been seven years.
A lot had changed.
She sat at the edge of the sofa, staring at the point docking system but not really absorbing the words. Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see James scribble his signature and toss the parchment to the side. He had been doing so rhythmically for more than an hour.
"If you're not going to help, you might as well leave," he muttered softly without glancing at her still figure.
She sighed and picked up the next document. Beyond the first ten words, the writing was lost to her. She attempted to concentrate on the paper but it wavered. She couldn't help but wonder would something be different if she had been in Gryffindor like the Sorting Hat had intended to put her. Would her life drastically change? Perhaps being accepted as part of the house would have been easier. Maybe when she laughed, there would be less of a strain in her voice. Several what-if's lingered on her mind as she remembered how her eleven year old self had begged the Sorting Hat to let her remain at her friend's side, because he had been her only friend in this new world, because she trusted, because she had never imagined how the boy she met at the playground would change.
"Potter?" she treaded apprehensively, struggling to make her voice sound plain.
"Hm?"
"What's the Gryffindor Common Room like?" she imagined it was a mistake to ask him of all people but a small, nagging curiosity burned inside of her and she wasn't particularly inclined to swallow it down. She glimpsed at his face. An orange glow, cast by the lamp beside him, outlined his features.
His wary eyebrows furrowed and he snorted, "You'd be mad to think I might tell you so you can tell Snape and his precious 'buddies' to use for whatever rubbish plan they have."
"I wouldn't tell him," she exclaimed, perhaps more sharply than she had intended. She felt compelled to defend herself for some reason.
"Oh?" he asked innocently, unconvinced. "Then why do you care?" he dropped the parchment and sat back against the pillows, crossing his arms over his chest.
She bit her lip, sighing, and shook her head. It wasn't worth it if he got to mock her.
"Never mind. It doesn't even matter," she said under her breath, turning back to her work.
"No, I'd like to know now. Slytherins so seldom come out with such questions to me. I'd like to know how they think-"
"Don't call me that!"
"What, a Slytherin? But you are, aren't you? Probably just as snaky as the rest of them," he replied, scowling and rolling his eyes.
"As much as I usually agree with you about most of the-us," she quickly corrected, don't you think it's a little narrow-minded to simply class all of th-us."
She cursed, hoping he hadn't caught her slipups. Unfortunately, he had.
"All of 'th-us'? Evans, I wonder, do you not like being a Slytherin? I never did understand how a half-decent muggle-born allowed herself to be sorted into Slytherin-wait, what did you say? Didn't catch that last part."
"I chose it," the words seemed forced out of her.
Unwilling to look at him, to see the disgust clearly etched on his face, she stared adamantly at the documents and the horrible green on her cuffs, tie, uniform.
"You chose it?" For a moment he stared at her and an uncomfortable gnawing erupted inside her stomach. Then he chortled, shocking her out of her brief trance, laughing or rather guffawing incredulously. "Why on Merlin's baggy trousers would you choose to do that to yourself? And here I was under the impression you were sensible."
James sat forward and shifted closer, his eyes wide with mirth and a touch of shock. His fingers trembled like they always did when he was excited about something.
She reluctantly looked at him, speaking slowly, "What would you do if your only friend was sorted into a different house? I didn't know anyone then and you and Black made a bad precedent for Gyrffindor."
His hair was typically messy, his spectacles lopsidedly perched on his straight nose and lips curved upwards in that crooked smirk he so often wore.
"I suppose we did. Agrippa, we were prats back then," he admitting, laughing nostalgically. "Although, why the sudden change in mind, Evans? Do you suddenly want to be in Gryffindor?"
"Who says I want to be in Gryffindor?" she asked but it was a lie, and neither were fooled by it.
"Oh, yeah? Tell me, Evans, tell me something you enjoy about Slytherin," James challenged.
"I-uh," she shut her eyes tight. She felt the prickling feeling of tears, threatening to fall from her eyes, followed by James's all to familiar voice swearing profusely.
"Bloody hell! No! I didn't mean it like that! What the heck are you-no, no, no, no- don't cry! Evans, look at me," he exclaimed, his voice raised with panic, a little shrill as well. "I may not be the best person to say it but Slytherin isn't so bad. Ha-ha, really! They are lovely, just lovely and fair? Some of 'em are, I suppose. They could do to live in a more open area and not the dungeons because let's face it, that just positively 'we are evil'. And the slimy snake does nothing to help... nor does The Bloody Baron, the sour looks and the bad haircut your friend sports."
She gazed at his twitching smile for a long while before the sound of her laughter filled the room, leaving a very confused James watching her with utmost concern.
"That…was...pathetic," she somehow mustered, not quite dry-eyed yet. "You don't believe a word of that, do you?"
His warming smile was plastered once more on his handsome face, "I do, though. I know there are some brilliant people in Slytherin and my best mate's cousin is proof of that. Hell, my best mate comes from a family of Slytherins and if he turned out okay then I'm sure there's some hope for your lot."
She grimaced in an effort to smile gratefully at him. Cheeks radiating a tint of pink, she nodded, "Thanks,er, Potter."
"No problem," he said, patting her on the shoulder, shifting on the sofa as he turned back to the stack on his side of the table. "Lily? Is that okay... If I call you 'Lily'?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah. What's up?"
"What do you plan on doing after this, I mean, school?" he posed, his face sincere and serious, staring indomitably at the quil in his hand.
"Uh-I haven't decided yet," she wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. "How about you?"
"I, um, I'm not quite sure, actually. I thought I wanted to play Quidditch…professionally... in the league. But I do want to help in some way, y'know? Also, because I can and some others might not be able to and I feel like I should as well. It's the right thing," he answered pensively, hesitantly.
"The right thing is overrated," blunt and straightforward, she replied, not missing a beat. "And since when do you care about doing the right thing? The last I checked, harassing an old man and severely increasing his heart rate by having his drawers jump out to spray confetti on him every time he went to open it doesn't seem like the 'right thing'. You're supposed to respect the elderly," she retorted cheekily, chuckling at the image her mind painted at the thought.
"The blighter had it coming!" James defended. He raised his hands in surrender and smirking at the memory.
"Merlin, you're immature," Lily joined in his pleasant, throaty laughter with that of her own, still wiping tears from her eyes.
"But you like it," he smirked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively and she turned sharply to look at him. "Lily, you're… never mind. It's a little past curfew but why don't you join us for breakfast tomorrow and then you can tell Padf-Sirius all about what you think of Filch or the Slytherins. I'm sure he'll enjoy it!" James spared her an inviting glance as he began to get up, pocketing the wand he picked up from the table. He checked his watch and bid her a good night. "Reckon Moony'll howl at me for being late," he said, laughing far too much.
With a wave, he exited, his laughter following him out the door. She got up quickly to catch up to him but stopped when she saw his silhouette disappear around the corner where the corridor ended, his hand raised to ruffle his hair.
She walked back, plopping down on the couch. Her tears shimmered and shone under the light. She wiped them brusquely, leaving her eyes sore. Whatever it was about James, it helped her breathe easier as if a heavy burden had been lifted off of her shoulders.
She would have enjoyed being in Gryffindor.
A/N:- And this is where I thank you for reading and politely ask you to review. I'd appreciate it if you did...