Once Upon a Miserable Girl's Plight...

Disclaimer Read this and weep, for I am not J.K. Rowling and thus have no secrets to give you about anything concerning Harry Potter. The plot is mere speculation on my part and the characters most definitely do not belong to me.

Chapter Nine: Bewitched by Charm

June, Sixth Year

He rumples his messy hair, seemingly carelessly as he glides past my compartment and I can't help but think...

Yet another train ride where I sit thinking and confusing myself on the subject of James Potter.

It's brilliant, really. I haven't talked to him or basically looked at him in two weeks and yet the memory of that night is plaguing my mind.

You know I still have yet to thank him for saving my life? That's how messed up I've become.

I wish Alice would say something. The silence in the compartment while we watch James Potter walk by is going to stifle me into a long and torturous death any moment now.

I'll just sit here and wait for it to come while chastising myself again for turning away that night...

Why am I doing that again? Why do I want to know what it's like to kiss James Potter anyway? It's probably just like kissing any other boy.

...Not that I would really know. Oh, I wish I could just tell my conscience to stop talking.

Luckily, Alice (she likes to think of herself as my external conscience) finally says something.

"Cute boy walking by there, Lily...," she teased.

"Oh bloody hell," I mumbled, ready to hurt the next person who mentions that. "First Marlene, now you?"

Alice chucked and let a smile escape from her lips. "No, but I still don't understand why you turned away. I know I wouldn't have."

"Alice," I said indignantly while I looked at her incredulously, "What about Frank?"

She blushed but then managed an unnatural reply. Well, unnatural for her, at least. "Like I said, have you seen James?"

Upon reflection, I decided not to respond to that comment. "Maybe I turned away because," I thought, searching for a reason and going on eagerly, "I don't like him."

Alice gave me a critical look from her seat across from me.

"Well, he's nice, but I don't have feelings for him," I replied, correcting my answer.

"Tell him that, then," she responded sensibly. To my confusion, she got up after that bit of advice and left the compartment.

"Alice," I called, sticking my head out the compartment door. The only problem was that I didn't see Alice outside the door. I did see James Potter though, waiting to get in.

"All full," I said automatically when he started towards me. I really (and I mean this more than I have ever meant anything in my life) didn't want to talk to him. Couldn't we just let this go until after the summer?

I don't know I why was the one who was so not ready for this. After all, James was the one who had been left to feel stupid when I ran away from him that night. But I just didn't want him near me... I was afraid, I'll admit, at the affect he seemed to have on me as of late. There was no telling what I would do if he tried to kiss me again. Damn my curiosity. But as Alice had tried to explain to me, I think it might have a bit more to do with something other than curiosity.

"Unless you have three invisible friends in there with you," he stated rationally, cool as could be, "I highly doubt it's full."

How could he act so reasonably? It was as though nothing had happened between us. Oh, that's right... Nothing had because of my turning away. But it was even as though he had never saved my life as well.

Maybe he didn't think of me that way, I thought, my mind racing. Maybe he thought that everything that night was a mistake. Although, that night, he probably would have been better served to have just let the werewolf rip me to shreds instead of getting...well, rejected, when you thought about.

"How do you know that story isn't completely true?" I asked, trying to retain my normal composure. If you could even call what I had normally 'composure'.

I stepped away from the doorway. Impulse, I think. If I had been in right mind there would be no way I would let him in so close to me.

He smiled at me and came in. "Because, from what I know of you, I bet you would have no tolerance for imagery friends."

I sat down and he did the same. Luckily he got the hint when I sat down and let my body take up the entire seat to sit across from me. Swift one we've on here, Bob.

"I suppose not," I replied unwillingly with a sigh. The sooner I got him to talk about why he'd felt the need to sit with me, I supposed that meant he'd be gone sooner.

He looked comfortable sitting there one moment, throwing joking banter back and forth, but now he looked...nervous. Marlene will tell you, like she's told me numerous times, James Potter never gets nervous. So why would he get nervous around me?

"Lily," he started softly, looking at me seriously, "I know I probably, well, scared you a few nights ago when I tried to...kiss you," he could barely get the words out, "but I think I'd be better if we could just forget it, maybe?"

I wanted to laugh, but I thought that might be a little cruel on my part (though not intentional) so instead I just nodded. Relief was washing over me, and the little bit of unhappiness I felt I banished away quickly. It was better this way, really.

"Right," I said with a small smile. "It's probably better that way."

He looked a little bit like what I was feeling at the moment. His expression changed instantly when he went on and asked me a question he seemed to have pent up for a while. "Why do you hate me?"

"I don't," I said simply. "I've never hated you. Strong dislike, maybe," he smiled at that, "but never hate. Although, after saving my life, I'd have to say I'm very far from hating you."

He grinned some more. "Well, that works in my favor, then."

"Thanks for saving my life, though," I added sincerely, finally looking him in the eyes. "I didn't have a chance to thank you properly that night."

"Well, I highly doubted that you wanted to become a werewolf."

I shuddered slightly, but laughed with him.

"No, you're right. I didn't."

Then the silence settled in. It was a bit unnerving. As though that sensation hadn't been bad enough while just being in his company, it was worse when things were quiet. We just sat there smiling timidly at one another, I think, not really sure what to say next for fear of saying the wrong thing.

"So...," I started conversationally as he brought his eyes up to mine, "I saw you in the Quidditch final last month and I must say, even though I'm not all that familiar with Quidditch, you were really great."

His eyes seemed to shine with pride as I smiled at him. "Yeah, I guess I did okay," he seemed to want to get off the topic quickly, as though if he continued with it he'd say a bit more than he wanted. "But if you want, I could explain the rules to you."

"Really?" I said, hoping he could shed some light on the sport. "That'd be wonderful."

"Okay."

And with that, he launched into a long and complicated explanation that if I tried to recite for you, I'd probably implode. Not that it wasn't informative; on the contrary now I was highly versed in the details of Quidditch, it just took up half the train ride. The other half was spent first clearing up the fact that he was Animagi (which truly impressed me, to be honest and explained what had happened that night two weeks ago) and then talking about the jokes he had pulled over the years while he explained the back story to them. Suddenly, half of the unusual things that happened in Hogwarts had reasons behind them. Granted, not all of the reasons glittered like gold, but they were reasons nonetheless.

"So the armor four Christmases ago--"

"Bewitched to follow McGonagall around and try and kiss her every time she stopped," he said, answering me promptly with a boyish grin on his face.

"You know one of them tried to attack Flitwick when he attempted to take the charm off," I stated, thinking back to my third year. "It was one of the funniest things I'd even seen. This poor little man trying to escape a huge coat of armor."

"The charm never came off did it?" James asked wisely, looking at me to clarify, "You've noticed that they still move around the corridors, right? They just don't follow McGonagall anymore."

I laughed and felt more comfortable than I had with someone (other than Alice) in weeks. "Yes, those bloody things never stay in one place. It always confuses me."

"Eh, well, Flitwick said that it was some good magic so he'll just let it wear off. He said that they'll probably stop moving around in a couple years."

James grinned again and laughed. I did as well. It was a shame, really, that I could see the platform coming up out of my window.

"That'll be the train station, I guess," James said with what sounded like disappointment.

I smiled lightly at him, "Well, I'll see you next year, then Potter."

He smiled back at took down my trunk. "I'd better go get my own, but you could probably write me, if you want. You've got an owl, right?"

I held up the cage as an answer. "Good," he took out some parchment, scribbled something on it quickly and handed it to me, "Just address it to here."

He let a grin light up his handsome face again and then took off with a quick, "'Bye, Evans."

"See you, Potter," I called lightly, pocketing the parchment and heaving my trunk off the train.

But I couldn't help but think as I sat in the car, my father driving us home, about James Potter. Did I really want to write him over the summer? Sure, we seemed to have gotten along quite well, but did I really want to become a sort of friend with him? What would become of that?

I wondered sometimes about the situations I got myself into.