Art of Awkwardness

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. They are all property of J.K. Rowling, and I am in no way trying to steal them.

Merlin, she hated working with people like James Potter on projects. He simply wasn't the sort of person that Lily was when it came to work ethic. That is, she was all about finishing her work right from the beginning, finding that she would rather die than procrastinate. She was one to do far too much research on subjects, for she found that she ended up using the information in other parts of her life. She would spend hours in the Library, convinced that she could find anything and everything on her subject. James, on the other hand, was an excellent example of a bad student, to put it simply. It wasn't that he got bad grades, because that wasn't the case—he got excellent grades, in fact! Lily was merely convinced that he either cheated his way to those grades, bribed his teachers (in less than honorable ways, she was sure), or just had dumb luck. He would always wait to the last minute to do any of his work, and would do the bare minimum if he could. He wasn't an over-achiever, and therefore, Lily had a huge problem with him.

But of course, damn Slughorn lived his life to push her limits. It was always, "Ms. Evans, make two of those potions instead of one," or, "Ms. Evans, I would love to hear your opinions on the effectiveness of pixie dust after class," or, "Ms. Evans, please work with Mr. Potter." It wasn't that the Gryffindor hated Potions, it was just that she wasn't considering becoming the next Potion Mistress. Charms, on the other hand…

As soon as the two of them were paired together to do their research project on sleeping draughts, she set several deadlines for his to meet so that she didn't end up doing the entire project on her own (though she wouldn't mind all that much…) She told him, immediately, that in a week, he was to have all of his research written down, cited, and annotated. He assured her that he would have all that she wanted and more in a week in a nice, neat notebook, and for some reason, she believed him.

A week came, and a week passed, and she heard no word from him about sleeping draughts. Thankfully, seeing as they were stuck together in the Head Dorms day in and day out, she took it upon herself to go ahead and snoop—no, she wouldn't call it snooping—sift through his things to find these so called notes he was taking. He wouldn't mind, she was sure of that. If he caught her, Lily decided that she would simply come up with some quick excuse as to why she was searching through his drawers. It would come to her.

The redhead tiptoed up to his room (perhaps it was just a blind instinct…She didn't want to be heard, afterall) and gently knocked on the door to make sure he wasn't already in there. She waited for several moments, and then knocked once more. When no response came through the door, she called out, "Potter?" for good measure, but once again, found that she was merely talking to an empty room.

Turning the handle gently, Lily slipped into the room, leaving the door open so that she could detect whether or not he was coming through the sound of his footsteps. She took several steps into the room, glancing around aimlessly. She hadn't been in his room before, seeing as the term had just started. Quidditch posters hugged the walls, the floor was littered with textbooks and magazines and clothing, and all of the furniture was painted a brilliant combination of gold and red—a true Gryffindor. Her mind strayed for several moments, before she finally focused and reminded herself why she was in his room, and it wasn't to admire the decorating job.

Lily had no idea where to start. First, she thought of where she kept her things, but realized that things wouldn't be quite the same. She was a girl—a neat girl at that—and James was a messy adolescent boy. They were polar opposites really, and she knew the only way she could find his notebooks was to think, "Where would I never keep my notebooks?" She sat there, contemplating this for several moments before she finally realized where the last place she would keep her notes was, and concluded that it was under her bed. It seemed like an odd answer, but it made sense to her—afterall, who knew what was growing underneath these old beds all year…

Bending down, Lily grabbed the side of the bed for support and seamlessly poked her head underneath. The things she saw shocked her. Things were even messier underneath his bed, which she wasn't sure was possible up to that point. Bouncy balls, old socks, a ukulele of all things, and some unidentifiable substance cluttered the space, and there, in the back, was a stack of notebooks. Leaning over, the redhead grabbed the stacks and pulled them over to her spot on the ground, congratulating herself silently.

Lily glanced through them, looking for labels, but found none. With a sigh of frustration, she grabbed for the first one, opening up to a random page to see if it was the right notebook. What she found was certainly not information on sleeping draughts… In fact, it was a drawing of two people, both of which were all too identifiable.

They weren't good drawings, really. They were crude and boxy, generally without color and rushed. She would have never known that it was her on the paper if the hair hadn't been colored red. Yes, everything on the paper was black and white, except for her red hair and green eyes. They popped out unnaturally, making her cringe slightly to herself. Sliding her eyes over to the other figure, messy hair and glasses clued her onto who this other figure was. They were holding hands, as if they were friends, and a sloppy heart was drawn above her head.

God, why was he drawing the two of them together?

Quickly, Lily flipped to another page and found a moving photograph of her by the lake. It was obvious that she had no idea that the picture was taken, because she saw herself down under a tree, staring off randomly into space. Her stomach churned sickeningly, and she hastily turned the page once more.

Her hand writing was on this page. There was a small piece of parchment glued or taped to the paper. "Bugger off, Potter," the paper said, and she could only assume that it was a note she had written him at once point that he had saved. Her heart began to quicken as she turned the page again.

Was that a lock of her hair? Merlin, it was! Unconsciously, Lily brought her hand up to the hair that was on her head and let out a small gasp. Where had he gotten that? Why had he kept it? She felt as if she was going to vomit, suddenly.

Flipping the page once more, she was half convinced that she would find an eyelash collection adorning the next page, but what she found was far different. Lily Potter. Mrs. James Evans Potter. Mrs. Lillian Evans Potter. Lillian Potter. Mrs. James Potter. Mrs. Lily Potter. Mrs. Potter. Mrs. Lily Evans Potter. Mr. and Mrs. James Potter. Mrs. Lillian Potter. Each word popped out at her more, and her eyes widened quickly as she saw her name written over and over and over with his surname.

"What are you doing?"

James' voice resounded through the room, and Lily hurriedly closed the book, standing up as quickly as she could to face him. By the look on his face, she knew that he had seen what she was doing, though he didn't seem angry..

"I…" Where was that excuse she was coming up with? Why hadn't she heard his footsteps? Where had her plan gone?

"Here," he said quietly, holding out something to her.

It was the notebook. Gingerly, Lily took a small step forward and took it slowly into her hands. Glancing down at it, she saw it labeled neatly with the words, "Sleeping Draughts" on it. She flipped to a random page and there were his cited notes and annotations, just like he said… She felt so embarrassed…

James walked past her, kneeling down to restack the books and slide them underneath his bed as if there was nothing odd in them. Lily had no idea how he was acting so calm and natural, as if nothing had happened. Perhaps nothing had happened.

"I'll… I'll see you tomorrow," she rapidly said, her words melding together slightly because of the speed of them. In only a moment, she was out of his room and rushing to her own, slamming the door shut. With a twist of the lock, she held the research notebook to her chest, sliding down the door in distress and utter humiliation.

"Oh Merlin…"

This came to me today in the middle of math, and I decided that this story is just going to be a series of awkward situations between the two of them. They're going to be unrelated for the most part, so they won't recall previous encounters. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it.