Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it's not mine.
Author's Note: This will be a series of "snapshots" from the life of Lily and James. Not sure how long it will be, but it will definitely be more than a two-shot. Make my day and review please! :)
She's trying to read her novel. Sitting by her favorite beech tree, the Black Lake is in view and she can hear other students, younger and older, frolicking about, enjoying the day. She loves coming out here, when the sun is bright and the sky is clear and there's just a slight breeze—enough to caress her skin, but not enough ruffle the pages of her book. It's a perfect day, and she should be enjoying it. She should relish in the feel of the rough bark against her back, the sunlight warming her feet. She should, but she isn't.
She can't concentrate. The sun is too warm and the tree trunk too hard. If she's being honest with herself (which, honestly, has been very difficult lately), it isn't the tree or the sun. No, it's that she's distracted. Her eyes, though she's trying to keep them trained on the pages of her book, keep flicking across the meadow to a similar tree. He sits there, in its' cool shade, surrounded by his friends. Sirius Black is jabbering on about something, sprawled out on the grass, hands behind his head. Remus Lupin, by far her favorite of the four infamous "Marauders," sits to the left, a book in his lap. He looks up every now and then, presumably when Sirius says something interesting. Peter Pettigrew is sitting by Black, cross legged, picking at the grass.
She allows her gaze to linger on Potter for a moment. He's leaning against the tree, nodding to Sirius every now and then. He's playing with a snitch, letting it flit away before reaching out to capture it before it's too far. He pushes his glasses up with a finger, runs a hand through his hair. She looks away.
She doesn't know why she keeps looking over there. She hates him, hates all of them actually. Well, except for Remus. He's a nice boy, except for his choice of friends, and she's enjoyed having him as her fellow prefect. She hates Potter the most though. He's rude and unnecessarily cruel and he never knows when he's crossed a line. He torments others for amusement and he has this unreasonable infatuation with her. It's obnoxious and he's insufferable. She hates him.
An auburn curl falls free from her hair clip. She pushes it back behind her ear and as she does, she looks over at them, at him, once more. He's staring at her, like he does sometimes. He is handsome, she knows. He's got that "windswept" inky black hair and those penetrating hazel eyes, but it doesn't matter, because she hates him. He tugs a hand through his hair again and smiles this small smile. She has the sudden urge to smile back and she doesn't know why.
But she doesn't. She looks back down quickly, embarrassed. She can feel her cheeks flush.
She feels the ground vibrate with the steps of someone approaching.
"Oh please no," she mutters almost inaudibly.
"Hey."
She looks up and there he is, standing over her. When did he get so tall?
"Potter. Hello." Her voice is laced with disdain.
"You have plans tomorrow afternoon, Evans?" he asks.
"No," she answers, because she doesn't.
He looks hopeful.
"Fancy a trip to Hogsmead then?"
"You are insufferable," she replies, standing. She closes her book.
"Should I take that as a yes?"
He's smirking.
"Take it as whatever you want, Potter, but I'm not going anywhere with you."
He puts a hand to his chest and pretends to be in pain.
"You're breaking my heart, Evans."
She glares.
"Go find some slag to pick up the pieces, Potter." There is venom dripping from each of her words.
She looks at him before turning away and striding toward the castle. She sees something, deep in his eyes, for just a moment before it's gone. She doesn't know what it was, but she glances back at him when she's almost inside.
He's still standing there, by her beech tree, hand to his chest, staring after her.