Lily, my one and only
I can hardly wait till I see her
James Potter stepped off the large, long gray bus, its windows coated with little flakes of frost, glittering in the corners. The young man walked slowly, letting the cold air swirl around his hair, picking up the individual raven locks, as if a young child was playing with his hair. A scarf, striped with a rich golden and scarlet color, wound around him, so only the top of his rosy cheekbones and small nose emerged, upon which rested a pair of shiny thin-rimmed glasses. His eyes were a dark forest color, the browns of the wood and the green of the tops of the trees were now thoughtful and tired; and his pupils were lightly dilated in the dim light and rimmed with a honey color. Outside and around him the sky had just begun to darken, and the sun had begun to set, casting soft pastel rays out before it sunk below the horizon line.
He walked, really having no particular destination, his eyes drifting up to the houses before him. Well, he really did have a destination. James Potter was searching for a particular house, though he didn't really know which one. The soft crunching noise that the grass made when he stepped upon it paused for a moment, as James moved towards a phone booth, the glass panels frosted from the young winter. Entering, he picked up a phone book that rested on a small shelf and opened it, trailing his finger along the yellow pages, looking for her name. His finger stopped when he found it, and his whole demeanor seemed to brighten. A lone bird, left over from the fly south, twittered behind him, its red breast contrasting handsomely with its cobalt feathers. Taking no notice, he shut the book, and closed the window to the phone booth, his glasses beginning to fog up just the slightest. As he took back to the sidewalk, he repeated the one phrase in his mind: 170 Autumn Drive, 170 Autumn Drive, 170…
The house was there in front of him, large and lit. James paused, sticking his hands in the pockets of his long, dark coat and looking out at it. As the clouds began to contrast against the dark sky as the afternoon drew to a close, he looked about for some way he could watch the house from where he wouldn't really be noticed.
Silly, I know I'm silly
Cause I'm hanging in this tree
In the hopes that she will catch a glimpse of me
The tree was feeble-looking: a white paper birch, its boughs ashen and lithe. James sat rather comfortably, his elbows and head situated in a small intersection of the boughs, his feet in the opposite. So from here he concentrated on the mauve curtains that adorned the small, square window on the top right, in which he assumed, was a bedroom. A smile slowly crept across his face, hanging off his frosty lips, as he sat his head on his hand. A dappled shadow danced behind the curtains in the bedroom window, one that was tall, thin and appeared to be facing the inside of the room. That can't be her, can it? thought James. And then it was a flash of a gorgeous ginger color that caught his eye and made him turn.
It was her, bright lily pad green eyes and all. James almost thought of jumping out the tree and hiding behind it, though he doubted its thin trunk would hide his stocky figure, normally thin, now layered with coats and scarves. But then he noticed that the girl wasn't exactly looking at him, she was staring into space for a moment, a bit of a sadness lingering in the corners of her eyes.
A car sped by, a rush of cardinal red, fumes following behind, and she was gone.
And through her window shade
I watch her shadow move
I wonder if she.......?
Through the shades, he noticed her frame moving about in front of the window, as if she was perhaps preparing dinner. A large dinner, because although it was only a few days after New Years', it was evident that relatives were still over. With a sigh he continued to watch her, glad that the streets were relatively devoid of any Muggle vehicles.
And why had James come? He had left his school – Hogwarts – in order to find her, though he had promised to stay the Christmas break. But he had left, found his way into this neighborhood, taken a ride on the bus – just to come and find her, although he knew that if found, he would be in a lot of trouble. As if he wasn't in enough trouble already, with the many things that he did at school. But he had come, nonetheless, to just watch her. He wasn't expecting anything, really; just to watch her a little bit. He certainly didn't want to be seen, because he was, in her mind, already enough of a stalker, watching her at school with smiles and stares that constantly annoyed her. And so she would hate him forever if he was found. And so for now, he stepped down out of the tree, being careful not to slip; but when someone walked by, cocking his hat at James with an arched eyebrow, James pretended not to see him and stared off to the left while whistling.
A few days later, James was strolling down the street across from his motel, clad in the same attire excepting the scarf, as it was significantly warmer today, but not cool enough to not wear a jacket. His wind-tousled hair fell into his eyes as he passed a deli, with several windows flanked by empty flower boxes. James looked in, out of habit – and noticed her sitting there, her hair tied with a scrunchie into a low ponytail, the auburn locks curling around one shoulder. She spoke soundlessly with a friend, fingers curled around a steaming mug of hot tea. Although her eyes were not on James, he felt like she was staring at him; and so he slipped to the edge of the window, pressing against the wall, watching her from the edge.
Lily, my one and only
Love is in my heart and in your eyes
Will she or won't she want him
No one knows for sure
As James watched her, his glasses digging into the ridge of his nose as he pressed his face against the corner of the window, he watched her talking happily. Whether she liked James or not, it didn't really matter to him right now. She used to blush and giggle when James flirted with her and cast her childish glances, but now she responded with a slap. James had always liked her, but now it had grown more serious, just over these past few days. Now it was like…
…he loved her.
But an officer is knocking at my door
He turned around so that he faced the street and his motel, at the left side of his vision, blue and bland. But at that moment, he noticed three figures approaching the motel, exiting out of a large black van. They arrived at the first door on the right and knocked forcefully, waiting for someone to appear. James didn't really register that they were knocking at his door, though vaguely he knew they were, but he didn't really care at the moment. He concentrated more on his object of affection and her friend, chatting merrily as the waiter arrived with a plate of food for the both of them.
And through her window shade
I watch her shadow move
I wonder if she could only see me?
It was then that James took the time to think about the girl. He really only tried to appeal to her in one way, and that was to torment the local weirdos and freaks, or to pull pranks in the hallways, or boast about his skills on the Quiddich pitch. And then he would cockily ask her out, only to be shot down. Not like he wasn't used to it, though. He had never wondered why she turned him down, only that in order for her to agree, he just had to keep asking. Maybe there was a better way to try and get her to like him, a subtler way; appeal to what she liked.
But as James thought about it, he realized how little he actually knew about her. He knew what House she was in at school; he knew who her friends were, and he had a basic outline of her personality. Though he didn't really know her hobbies, likes, dislikes. Well he did know one thing, and that was how much she disliked James.
And when I'm with her I feel fine
If I could kiss her I wouldn't mind the time it took to find
And maybe if he changed, she would like him better. Because right now she meant the world to him. Just one kiss, and he would be satisfied; but he would have to earn his kiss in a satisfactory way, in a way that she kissed him back too. He only realized now that he loved her, but then it dawned on him that it had been more than a crush for months. He had began to feel flattered when she said anything that was not an insult to him, or when she glanced his way, even if she meant to talk to someone else. When she did something like asking for an extra quill James found the color rising in his cheeks. It had been different around her, and so James found a new strength to change himself. He watched his motel for a moment, noticing that the men were walking generally in his direction.
My Lily, my one and only
I can hardly wait till I see her
Oh Lily, I know you love me
He turned back to look in the window, placing one hand on the glass, and watching the condensation wrap around his fingerprints. And then he looked at the back of his flexed palm and noticed that small powdery flakes were dotting his skin. It was beginning to snow, the first snow of winter; instead of coming on Christmas, it had come a week late. It didn't matter, though, because James enjoyed it nonetheless. The sky above him was a soft, comforting gray spotted with cotton clouds. His golden-green eyes lowered for a second and his pupils dilated; the men were close, with stony cold expressions on their faces. At that moment, Lily turned away from her plate and noticed James, her bright eyes widening.
'Cause as they're draggin' me away
I swear I saw her raise her hand and wave goodbye