I own nothing from the Harry Potter Universe
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Lily frowned slightly as she attempted to sit properly in her short dress, her forehead crinkling as she discovered how bleedin' difficult it was to sit down gracefully in a dress that could also function as a doily. Not that she was ever exceptionally graceful, having tripped and fallen on her arse more times than perhaps healthy, but still, on one's first date, even if said date is with an arrogant dimwit, one should at least appear to be above such things as engaging in a losing battle with your chosen garb. Bloody hell, fuck it, she decided, propping her legs up on the seat in front of her and sprawling out on the seat.
James' mouth went slightly slack as Lily's legs came to rest by his thigh, her naïve self unaware of the amount of thigh it exposed to his gaze.
Jesus Christ, she was going to kill him. She was going to kill him and she didn't even know it.
With difficulty, he tore his stare from the milky expanse of her thigh and instead focused on her face. Okaaaay, that wasn't the best idea, either. He should have known better than to look into her eyes, because they always made him go all wonky, sooner or later he was going to start waxing poetry and that could only end in tears, he imagined. His tears, of course, 'cause Lily wasn't so much a flowers-and-chocolates-and-romantic-sonnets-kinda-gal, he knew from experience. The things he found fascinating about her was her quirky personality and apparently fathomless depth, fathomless depths that would need to be entertained with conversation. Say something, Potter, he yelled at himself, anything! Something witty and intriguing, something that showcased his fantastic conversational ability. Books! She likes books.
"You like books."
Oh fuck.
Yeah, fantastic conversational abilities, my arse.
She quirked her eyebrow at him.
"I mean, uh—" James stammered, pulling at his collar nervously, "I like books."
Her other eyebrow joined its mate in a skeptical arch.
"No, I mean, I don't like books." He amended, wanting to crack his skull against the wooden wall of the carriage.
Lily almost laughed at the boy's jumpiness, mistaking his nervousness for reluctance to be in her company. About to taunt him for his idiotic rambling, she stopped herself abruptly and remembered Black's ridiculous 'flirting' clause. Fuck, she was going to have to pretend to enjoy this, even if she ended up having to poke her eyes out from sheer exasperation. So… What did one talk about to the infamous James Potter? Well, that's easy.
"So, I hear you're a regular slave-driver on the Quidditch pitch, you must be getting antsy for that—uh, game thingy coming up?"
James' mouth went slack in surprise of her question. He was so shocked by her atypical reference to quidditch that he entirely overlooked her allusion to a match as a 'game thingy'.
"Uh—" Ooh, extra points for articulacy, you big pillock, he thought to himself, "Yeah. Well, with Wilkinson's great seeker skills and my chaser expertise, the cup is pretty much in the bag."
Must not roll eyes at the arrogant twerp, must not roll eyes at the arrogant twerp, Lily mentally chanted. Oh Lordy, he was giving her a funny look, had she said that out loud? Oh well.
Minutes passed in silence, only broken by the occasional creaking of the carriage's wheels. The two teenagers studied the wood paneling adorning the walls as though they were incredibly engrossing, attempting to ignore the awkwardness pervading the air.
Lily let out a little sigh of relief as she saw the little town approaching, smiling at the sight of the patched roofs tottering above the quaint little shops. Smiling nervously as James helped her down from the carriage, she hoped he didn't see her slip slightly as her feet landed on the ground.
"Want to get a butterbeer then hit some shops? James asked nervously, stopping his hand from messing his hair and hastily bringing it to his side.
"Trying to drive me to drink, Potter?" Lily asked, smiling at him and wondering if she sounded flirty enough. Or too flirty. Jesus, this whole teenage hormone extravaganza was hard work.
"You know it, Evans. Although you'll probably become intoxicated from the sheer awesomeness of my personality anyway." James joked back, then realized she probably thought he was being serious. Wanting to slap himself, he waited for a comment concerning the enormity of his ego.
It never came.
Huh?
James opened the door to Madame Rosmerta's and ushered Lily inside. Then, bringing two drinks to the booth she had picked near the leaded windows, he sat down and nervously gulped down some butterbeer.
"So… Potter…" Lily stalled, wondering what to talk to him about, "How's your—er, your family doing?"
Looking slightly surprised at her question, James replied, "Good, Dad's away a lot for work, what with this wack job psycho wizard Voldemort on the loose, and Mum's working on her next book. Dad's an Auror and Mum edits textbooks for Pueblo's Publishing House."
"Wow, I didn't know your Dad was an Auror, must be kinda nerve-wracking when he's on a mission, plus with that insane wizard on the rise."
"Well, he heads up the department now, so he isn't on the field as much, but who knows what is going to happen when Voldemort really starts gathering followers."
Lily shuddered at the turn of conversation. "Yeah, this whole situation is so insane, I mean, don't these people realize what their trying to do? Inbreeding is going to catch up on them, bunch of wankers. They won't be so smug when they have three arms and a head growing out of their arse"
"Yeah…" James agreed, laughing. Bringing his drink to his lips James allowed himself to sneak a look at Lily when she was drinking. God, she was gorgeous. Tearing his eyes away so as not to make her think he was a total creeper, he searched his mind for different topics.
Opening his mouth, he was about to attempt to wow her with a witty Marauder story, he slammed it shut as he saw his friends walking their way with a tray full of drinks and a trio of devious smiles.
Oh gods.
Keep walking.
Don't you dare sit down!
Christ.
"Hey lovebirds." Remus, Peter and Sirius said, looking for all the world like they were up to something.
Fuck.