Adore, Worship, Fancy. Not Love.
By rese
Summary: James in love and he can barely accept it, how does he expect Lily to?
Disclaimer: All characters are not of my creation – J. K. Rowling owns them and she has pay cheques to prove it. Slash no money made from this.
A/N: I can't seem to bring myself to write more than 500 words for HP stories. Hope that doesn't make 'em awful.
…
The word 'love' was thrown around far too much. Love made something sound sappy. Love made something sound childish. Love made something totally unattractive to James Potter.
But here he was, in love with Lily Evans.
He'd deny it of course. Use every other word in the thesaurus to explain the situation, especially to Remus who would stand there smiling back knowingly in his annoyingly… knowing way.
But in the end that's how he felt.
She was talking to him, he could tell by the way her mouth rounded around words with more than three syllables and how her eyes never left his.
Fuck, those eyes.
He loved those eyes.
And then he knew when she was losing the battle trying to converse or be in his presence, her gaze would flick to the side, to a wall, to the floor. Her hand would rub her arm and her body would straighten up. And then she'd begin to yell again.
He loved her voice.
She was strong-willed, brave, proud, everything a Gryffindor should be and with deep red hair to match. How did he even stand a chance against love when she would stand there in front of him, all fired up and making his head spin?
"Are you even listening to me?"
James blinked at the red-head, running a hand through his hair while he smiled sheepishly back in what he hoped was an endearing manner.
"Sure Evans." He rocked on his heels, watching her begin to shake with fury.
"When will you GROW UP!?" He couldn't help but smile, which apparently seemed to be the worst thing to do in this situation. "YOU'RE HEAD BOY! AND YOU DON'T HAVE SHRED OF RESPONSIBILITY IN YOU!"
James extended a hand, beginning to explain that if she wanted him to do the reports this week she only had to ask but it seemed she must have already, for Lily turned about and stomped off, cloak swirling behind in her rage wind.
The seventeen year old boy sighed heavily and leant against the wall. Merlin. It wasn't as if she didn't know. It was just that she didn't feel the same.
There still wasn't a chance in hell he was ever gonna get to use the 'L' word.