000

mild frustration

000

Lily flicked her hair to the side, simultaneously sneaking a glance out of the corner of her eye.

He is watching her again.

It is fifth year, Transfiguration class, and her chin is pressed firmly in to her palm. And, as she dutifully takes notes with the other hand, she can feel his eyes burning in to the left side of her head.

She has seen him around more than usual, lately. He bumped in to her in the corridor the other day, and then refused to make eye contact.

Lily narrows her eyes. She doesn't like James Potter and his raucous cronies—at least, not for any length of time. They do some funny stuff, but they've also done some really adolescent, childish stuff that she doesn't find amusing at all.

For instance, when she told James to stop calling her "carrot," in fourth year, he turned her hair green, insisting that he was helping her out. Later, he changed his story, telling her that he had turned it green because it really "brought out her eyes."

Her hair had been green for a week.

And it's not like she was some stuck-up prick, either. Pranks are all in good fun, and she had made sure that everyone in the Gryffindor common room got a good view of his knickers the next week, but it was just an example of how sometimes the boys didn't quite see the boundary—they took things a little too far.

Sirius Black and James Potter were also just generally fairly insufferable, as they seemed to think quite highly of themselves for getting lots of detention and turning innocents' hair green and the like. Lily really didn't think they were that special at all, but as long as they confined themselves to fairly harmless jokes and tricks, it's not like she really cared.

The bell rings and Lily leaves Transfiguration, hungry for lunch and also eager to get away from the smarting stare of a certain black-haired boy. Luck is not with her, however, for as she enters the great hall she feels a hand on her arm.

"Evans," a teenage voice says imperiously. "Walk with me for a minute." It's not really a question, and Lily stifles a giggle. The words would be much more intimidating if they hadn't been delivered in the wavering, wannabe-baritone typical of a developing bass in a fifteen-year-old boy.

She looks up at James Potter, who is currently running a hand through his hair, looking altogether rather skinny and awkward. She imagines he's looking better than he did at the end of fourth year (although the girls still sighed over him then—she can't imagine why,) but he still has a while to go before he's quite grown in to his lanky form.

However, the amicable smile that this overall image summons is suppressed by the annoyance Lily feels at being arrogantly delayed from the hearty lunch she is craving. She decides to simply brush him off, unsure of what they really need to talk about anyways. After all, they're not friends, so she doesn't really feel the need to tread lightly around his feelings.

"Sorry, Potter, I'm actually just on my way—" she begins, but he cuts her off by firmly grabbing her hand and practically tugging her away from the doors. A few people around them look at her strangely as she dramatically stumbles in to step behind him, and once they're alone she wastes no time in wrenching her hand from his grip.

"Potter! What are you doing?" She demands, and a slight edge has come in to her voice.

"Go out with me, Evans." James says, and once again, it's less of a question than it is an assumption.

"I'll pass, thanks." Lily snaps, huffing angrily, and hurries away.

Later, finally comfortably settled between Alice and Frank, munching on an enormous sandwich, she allows herself to angrily remember how shocked he looked at her refusal.

As if I would have said yes! She thinks, furiously remembering how he grabbed her hand as if it were his property. Even if he hadn't practically dragged me through the hall... She shakes her head, chomping down viciously on the chicken sandwich.

Frank laughs. "Lil, what'd that sandwich ever do to you?"

Managing to swallow her large bite, Lily gives him a weak smile in return. "James Potter just asked—well, ordered—me to go on a date with me," she confesses, unsure whether to be angry or nauseous.

"Oh really?" Alice asks with a smile, elongating the middle of the word. She doesn't dislike the Gryffindor fifth years quite as much as Lily does, and so is not as immune to their alleged charms.

Frank elbows Lily in the side, laughing. "Yeah, how'd you take it?"

"I mean…I just told him no and walked away."

"You said no?" Frank seems genuinely surprised. A year above Lily and Alice, he doesn't interact with the fifth year boys very much, and consequently doesn't grasp their frustration with them. "I thought Potter was a pretty decent hit with the ladies."

"I mean…Black's definitely the best looking one," Alice muses. "But Potter has a certain rugged appeal."

Frank coughs, and Lily eyes him suspiciously, wondering for the umpteenth time if his feelings for Alice are truly as brotherly as he claims. "I'm going to have to differ," she says. "All I see when I look at them is scrawny teenage boy. I prefer my men a little more filled out."

Alice smiles. "I mean, there's certainly nothing wrong with older boys," she admits, blue eyes wide and innocent as she lowers her lashes for a quick, heated glance at Frank that Lily pretends not to see. "So anyways, Lily, what are you going to do now?"

"What do you mean?"

"Will you avoid Potter? Do you think it will be awkward?"

"It's not like we really spoke before," Lily says hesitantly. "I never really went out of my way to talk to him. I guess I'll just let him call the shots, or whatever. I'm pretty neutral."

"The thing about Potter," Frank pauses. "I've heard that he's a rather persistent fellow," he settles on finally.

"Frank, you're going to have to elaborate," Alice says, rolling her eyes.

"Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if he tried to ask you out again."

Lily laughs. "Oh, please. Even I'm not that irresistible. Besides, we're fifteen, there's tons of other students around, and it's the beginning of the year. If, and mind you, I say if, he has actually convinced himself that he has some sort of crush," she snorts the word with derision, "on me, he'll get over it by tomorrow."

Frank shrugs, looking dubious, but allows the subject to drop. Lily chatters about another of her roommates, Margot, who was caught in a broom closet with one of the Slytherin fifth years, Theo. Frank begins telling tales about one of his friends in seventh year, Teddy, and the Slytherin "bird" he had been seen with the other day, and the conversation continues as Lily finishes her sandwich.

Alice sits on Lily's other side, watching James Potter from behind a curtain of blonde hair. The way his eyes are boring holes in Lily, she surmises, are definitely not that of "just a crush."

But there is plenty of time. They are, after all, just beginning their fifth year.