James watched in mixed excitement and horror as the Gryffindor and Slytherin Seekers reached for the Snitch at exactly the same moment. There arms were dead even. Slytherin was ahead, but not by much, the catch would determine the winner. It was too much. He closed his eyes and held his breath.
"AND GRYFFINDOR CATCHES THE SNITCH!"
The roar the followed was deafening.
As was the music already blaring in the Common Room when he arrived. There was always music at these things. James wasn't sure how it was managed; Muggle record players didn't work, and he didn't know of any that could fit in a trunk anyway. Maybe it was charmed somehow.
There was food piled atop several of the tables; Sirius, Remus, and Peter must have raided the kitchens already. Once upon a time, he would have gone with them. Recently, he's been held up after matches. Everyone wanted to congratulate the captain, it seemed. Well, most everyone. There was a certain ginger who adamantly avoided it.
Not that it mattered much today. James didn't feel much like celebrating, and he didn't think he deserved much congratulation either. Didn't these people realize how close they had come to losing? It was a lucky catch that won the match, and that was just not good enough. Of course, it made a good show, and that's what people liked. It was apparent how much they had enjoyed this particular victory. He was sure the Firewhiskey hadn't even been opened yet but it was a joyous ruckus all the same, everyone was celebrating. Even that certain ginger. She was dancing with her friends and probably had no idea how sexy she looked doing it. Well, at least that was a distraction.
He made his way toward the food, he was sure he could find some Firewhiskey there. It took a bit; he dodged several more "Congratulations!" and a few "Good jobs!" along the way. When he finally made it, he had no trouble finding the Firewhiskey, and as he thought, he was the first to it. He grabbed an entire bottle, pulled it open and took a long drink. It burned as it went down, but he felt better as he swallowed. Now quiet was what he wanted, space to think, or at least get drunk it peace.
Alas, there was no where he could go. His dorm was, ahem, occupied, and leaving the Common Room with an illicit beverage was something not even he dared to do. He settled on a corner with a good view of Lily's dancing and cast a spell that allowed him to hear nothing of his environment. He sipped the bottle slowly, mesmerized by her movements. Eventually he became so dazed that he failed to realize that her motions had changed from swaying to walking.
It took her standing right it front of him, looking at him expectantly, to snap out of it. He pulled out his wand and undid the spell, and answered her with a, "Huh?"
"I said, 'enjoying the show?'" Her look was scolding.
He couldn't help but grin, "Very much."
"You're too much," she said, "Drunk by one at your own party."
"I don't see a problem with that."
"I wouldn't if you weren't alone."
"Join me, then," He held out the bottle to her.
She hesitated a moment before taking it from him and bringing it to her lips. She winced as she swallowed. "Gods," she said, "How do you drink that?"
"Practice," he gave her that wicked grin he knew she hated and took the bottle from her to press it to his own lips.
"Obviously too much," she scolded him and took the bottle. He hoped she would take another drink, because sharing a bottle was almost like kissing, but she only set it on the floor. "Tell me, why are you drinking yourself to stupor instead of enjoying your party?"
"Give me the bottle back and I'll tell you."
She picked the bottle back up, analyzed it a moment, and put it to her lips, downing the rest of it. She pulled it away, coughing and sputtering.
"Merlin, Evans!" He jumped up to pat her on the back. There hadn't been all that much left, but it was a lot for one go, "That was a bloody stupid thing to do."
"Yes," she nodded, "Yes it was." She handed him the bottle, "Tell me."
"I'm too much," he rolled his eyes. "I don't feel much like celebrating so I was drinking instead."
"Well that was definitely not worth drinking all that Firewhiskey. I think I deserve to know why as well."
"We almost lost."
"So you don't feel like celebrating."
"It shouldn't have been that close."
"But it was exciting."
"He should have blown them out of the water."
"What's the fun in that?"
He shrugged, "I suppose that's a decent argument."
"I thought so."
"Worth the Firewhiskey now?"
"No."
He chuckled, and looked over at her. Her face was flushed, and it only served to highlight her features. "You finished off a bottle of Firewhiskey for me."
"Well I wouldn't say it was for you. What'd you get out of it?"
"What did you get out of it?"
"A bad after taste and an early buzz."
"And a story," he added.
"An explanation," she corrected, "And a rubbish one at that."
"You're the one that asked for it."
"That doesn't make it less rubbish."
"It's the truth."
"Still rubbish!"
"Right then," he ruffled his hair, "What can I do to make up for it?"
"Why do you do that?" she asked.
"Do what?"
"That thing with your hair."
"Oh, did I do that? I didn't notice."
"I'm just not going to get a proper explanation out of you, am I?"
"Probably not."
She stood up and grabbed the hand that had run through his hair. "Dance with me, then."
"What?"
"Dance with me. That's how you can make up for your rubbish explanations."
"Dancing? Really?"
"Yes, really."
And James thought maybe, today would be a day for celebration after all.