Prompt: Getting caught staring

Lily could admit that James Potter was, at least, conventionally attractive– in that the features he happened to possess, by nature of genetics, fit to the idealized beauty standard. He was tall, and had finally grown into his body. His face was symmetrical, except for the lopsided grin he flashed at girls. He had hazel eyes with impossibly long eyelashes that were the color of molten gold– but changed to feature more of the green depending on his mood, or what he was wearing.

And technically, he could be considered funny– charming even–he was by most of the student body. His taunting and teasing, that had teetered between good-natured fun and bullying in years past, now rested firmly on the side of good-natured ribbing between friends– save for a few unsavory individuals.

Lily considered her partner across from her as he diligently poured over the prefects rounds schedule for the coming month. What had changed? She chewed on the end of her sugar quill, giving herself a moment to analyze him for changes while his attention was otherwise occupied.

Potter was smart, she knew, if only he would truly apply himself. And it had seemed that this was the year he'd chosen to do so. He was Head Boy, and ranked just below her in most classes, and exceeded her scores in a few such as transfiguration and astronomy.

And this year, he'd even apologized for his behavior in years past, and they'd gone on to be almost chummy during their patrols. More often than not, Lily found herself laughing along with his good-natured teasing, and looking forward to spending time together– a stark contrast to the way she'd dreaded his presence for the majority of sixth year. Some of his comments bordered on down right flirty, and she didn't know why her stomach fluttered nervously when he gave her that lopsided grin. She couldn't help but frown at the memory of her own reaction to that stupidly charming smile.

Potter remained dutifully focussed on the task at hand, oblivious to her perusal and internal wonderings.

She watched as he consulted the prefects' timetables and schedules, before penning in their names for patrols. His large hands flexed around the eagle quill he used, and he took a moment to push his glasses up his nose– leaving a marking of ink across his cheek in the most adorably dorky way. Adorable? Potter? No.

Fine. It was adorably dorky.

He chewed on his bottom lip as he puzzled over a particularly tricky batch of prefects to schedule, and she found herself wondering what would happen if she leaned over and took that lip between her own.

She shook her head to clear the silly thought from her head, but the motion caught his notice.

"See something you like, Evans?" he asked with a teasing glint in his eye and that stupidly charming smile across his face.

"Ugh, nope. Just something vaguely intolerable," she rushed out, embarrassed to have been caught staring. "Actually, you have some ink. Right there," she said, gesturing to his right cheek.

"Oh, uh, thanks, Evans," he said, swiping blindly at the offending mark.

She giggled as he missed again. "Here," she said, leaning forwards and swiping her thumb over the ink spot in question carelessly– only to realize belatedly how close the move had put their two faces.

"Thanks," Potter said, barely above a whisper.

"Yeah, don't mention it," she returned, dropping her eyes to her own (blank) parchment, an embarrassed flush climbing up her neck and into her cheeks.

She'd wanted him to kiss her. Him. Potter. She'd wanted him to kiss her! And she couldn't help the confusing, yet profound disappointment when he didn't.

James could feel the weight of Evans' stare from across the library table. She sucked on the end of that blasted sugar quill, seemingly unaware of the images it conjured in his mind. She'd been staring at him for the better part of the hour, her brows drawn together as if puzzling out a particularly complicated rune sequence.

He did his best to fill out the patrol schedule– but with her staring at him like that, with her sugar quill dancing tantalizingly across her lips, it was growing increasingly hard to focus. He shifted in his seat, the front of his trousers uncomfortably tight. He bit down on his lip until the pain chased away his arousal, and reminded himself that they were friends. Just friends. They'd worked hard to get there, and people who were friends didn't sit in libraries fantasizing about what the other's mouth might feel like wrapped around–

He bit down on his lip hard to break the train of thought, and adjusted his glasses awkwardly, hoping his depraved thoughts about his friend hadn't shown in his face. Friends definitely didn't think about each other that way, and it was best he remembered that.

He tried in vain to fill out the patrol schedule, but trying to focus on the task at hand was damn near impossible if she didn't stop staring at him like that. He already knew he'd have to redo the whole thing– since he was writing in utter rubbish in his attempt to look busy and unbothered by her captivating stare.

Another ten minutes passed like that. Evans stared at him like he was a particularly interesting puzzle, and he pretended to be unaffected by the stare of his longtime crush. But a bloke could only take so much. Gathering his courage, he looked up to meet her inquisitive stare. "See something you like, Evans?" he teased, only a tad hopeful.

Evans startled at having been caught staring. ""Ugh, nope. Just something vaguely intolerable," she said with a teasing lilt and slow smile that softened her statement.

Was she? No. Was Evans flirting with him? He told himself not to get his hopes up, even as he inevitably ignored his own advice.

"Actually, you have some ink. Right there," she said, with a careless gesture to his cheek. Of course. Of course Evans wasn't suddenly considering him as anything other than a former rival turned friend. She didn't see him as anything more than a nuisance who was now slightly more tolerable. A nuisance who was incapable of writing without getting ink all over himself like a dunce.

"Oh, uh, thanks, Evans," he said, swiping blindly, searching for the offending mark. Evidently he was unsuccessful. He felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment, as she giggled at his fumbling before leaning forwards.

"Here," she said, as she leaned across the table. The tip of her finger brushed his cheekbone as she wiped away the ink leaving a searing path in its wake. The move had brought her closer, until their faces were mere inches away.

They stared at each other in silence. He could feel her breath ghosting across his lips.

Say something. He should say something. Or do something. Kiss her? No. Maybe? Anything was better than sitting here, mute and unmoving.

"Thanks," was all he managed to croak out.

He saw a flash of what looked like disappointment cross her face, but it was gone too quickly for him to be sure it was anything other than his hopeful aspirations projected onto her.

"Yeah, don't mention it," she replied, casually settling back into her seat and focusing on her parchment once more.

He'd almost kissed her. He'd wanted to kiss her. But as she settled back in and focussed on her school work, seemingly unaffected, he thanked Merlin ten times over that he hadn't– but couldn't shake the nagging disappointment that settled in his stomach.