She's a bitch. She was, is, and always will be a bitch. A beautiful, intelligent, responsible bitch, sure, but a bitch all the same. Maybe she's a bitch because of the way her mouth always had a quick, sarcastic reply to whatever quip I just said. Maybe it was because of the way her brain absorbed everything- even Professor Binns' incredibly monotonous babbling- and got marks that could make a Ravenclaw (and me) jealous. Maybe it because of the way she fulfilled her Head duties so diligently, she made Dumbledore look negligent. Maybe it was because she didn't give a fig about Quidditch and would rather study than watch a match. Maybe it was because of the way her eyes shine when she's happy and her smile brightens up my day and one touch from her sends electric jolts through me that should not, in any circumstances, be even possible to feel. Then again, it's probably because she's been rejecting me for three years in the most publicly humiliating ways possible- she once said the Giant Squid would be more preferable than me.
That inherent bitchiness of hers is deeply ingrained, and no one can ever get rid of it. One must simply learn to tolerate and live with it, and I, valiant masochist that I am, have decided to fall for it. Which is not to say that bitchiness is what her entire personality is- no, quite the contrary. It's a well-known fact in Hogwarts that Lily Evans was kind, caring, and endearing in every sense of the word- except to me. For some reason, I bring out the devil within her, and all her anger and annoyance was always directed towards me, the not-so-innocent bloke that thinks she looks unbelievably attractive when her fists are curled up while she's screaming various, creative insults to my face. Her anger was nothing compared to her happiness though, but since I seem incapable of making her smile, I settled for annoying the hell out of her. The most effective way, of course, was to constantly ask her out. You'd think that after hearing millions of "no's" from her, it wouldn't affect me anymore, but it's the opposite, really. Halfway through 6th year, I realised that this particular way of inciting a little anger from her just might be inciting a lot more than a little disappointment in me.
Annoying her in general doesn't happen a lot these days, actually. Head duties had forced us to establish some kind of truce, just because neither of us wanted to be killed by McGonagall, and wasn't it oh so much easier to observe that freckled face when you weren't forced to think of comebacks all the time? Weeks pass, patrols occur, arguments are reduced to an all-time low, and she still has no idea that she's a bitch simply for not knowing, not realising that there's some guy literally in front of her face wondering what it would be like to be the cause of her brilliant smile for once.
"Potter, can you cover for my patrol tomorrow night? I have a Potions essay I have to finish."
Her voice ripped the image I was having of her running her fingers through my hair. Damn mistress of evil.
"I have Quidditch practice tomorrow, love. You wouldn't let Hufflepuff triumph over the red and gold, would you?" The glare she shot me was positively barbaric, but it was somehow softened by the fire burning in our very own Head common room. Fire works well with her, I thought privately. Her hair looks like it's shining, her freckles are illuminated… hell, even her personality was fire.
"I'm sure you can reschedule."
"And I'm sure you can finish your essay in due time. The match is in a week, Evans, and I'm not about to let 'Puffs win the Cup."
"Patrol is 'til midnight! How do you expect me to finish an entire bloody essay when I can only get back at bloody midnight? Quidditch doesn't even count for anything! Potions can decide what I'll be doing for the rest of my life!" She was desperate, I knew, and I was very, very close to giving in, but the thought of my team's faces if I told them practice was cancelled stopped me. And besides, she said Quidditch doesn't count for anything. That was sacrilege to the highest degree.
"Evans…" I forgot what I was going to say, for Lily Evans was glaring and pouting at me, and all I could suddenly think about was how soft her lips looked… they were dry and chapped, true, but I could remedy that, right? "I… I gotta go. You can ask Davies, I'm sure he's free." And I dashed down the stairs before I did something that will guarantee her hatred, like grabbing her by the waist and touching her lips with mine, and then my hands would move up to play with her soft hair, while hers would be on my chest…
Merlin, Sirius, where are you when I need a distraction?
Chapter 2 to come soon!
