Author's note: Wow, I can't even begin to tell you how happy I am that people are not only taking the time out of their lives to read my story, but that they are also taking more time to review. I appreciate it so much, as it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside! (No joke!) Now, I realise that this story is a bit dull so far in the action department, but that is soon to come (you'll know what I mean when you reach the end of this chapter). I just had to write these three chapters this way fist so that you could see the way James is. Now I'm wondering whether I should switch to Lily's POV? Hmm, we'll see.
Disclaimer: I'd love to own the world of Harry Potter, but alas, I do not.
Enjoy!
Chapter 3 - Small Talk
Immediately after having reached the official (made official by Messrs Moony, Padfoot, Wormtail and Prongs) OoESL – Out of Ear Shot Line – a while after the tree line, James began to slow his pace. Once they got to the third willow, he began to talk.
"Evans, I want to apologize for something." When he said it, he wasn't actually sure what he would apologize for. He just felt it appropriate to say.
She nodded her head. "Don't need to ask for permission, Potter, I won't hurt you, badly anyways, as I'm not yet of age."
Neither am I, but the ministry doesn't know it's me doing the spells and not Mum. He smiled at his private joke. Well, rule, no better, law breaking. "Fine then. Evans," what was he apologizing for again? Oh yes, "I'm sorry for having neglected you over the past few days. Whilst it was my mother who officially invited you to stay, I am, by association of proximity of birthdates, officially your host." He pulled a branch up high, using his free arm to motion Lily forward, muttering something along the lines of, "after you, sweet lady."
"Thank you." Cold. Expressionless. So like Lily Evans.
Continuing on with his apology, James led her deeper into the woods. "I am unsure whether you are aware of this, but coming home has a certain affect on me. I get real quiet and I guess different than what you are used to." And depressive, and lonely, and spontaneously loud. Ahh, I get weird.
"I've noticed. How long ago did your father pass away, anyway?" James stopped momentarily. He was slightly startled at the directness of the question, then remembered that Lily hadn't exactly been the type to run around the bush. Actually, she had always been quite blunt.
"Between fourth and fifth," he surprised himself by answering without rounding on her. Then, not sure what made him do it, words flew out of his mouth. "When did yours?" He knew the answer, and knew she knew he knew it too, but he had been compelled to ask, sort of as a way to tell her how much it had hurt to have her ask the same question. Stupid revenge, he thought as he saw the look on her face and immediately wished he could have a time turner to take back what he'd said.
"This year. Both parents, actually. My father died of cancer in late September, my mother of an aneurism in March." Her eyes were downcast, sombre, yet dry.
He swallowed back his guilt. "Sorry," he said for the second time this day, running a hand through the back of his hair, then stuffing his hands quickly inside of his trouser pockets. Twit, he told himself. "My dad died of m – mul, no wait, it's… Actually, I don't know what it's called. All I know is that it's a disease old wizards and witches get, and eventually die of. My mom's got it too, though she doesn't show it." He added hastily and released a sigh.
"How old is your mom, Potter?" They had, by now, reached his 'secret' place, where there was a slight clearing in the trees. James had dug up a ground-chair (a hole in the ground where a bum would fit comfortably, and a mound of either softly packed dirt rising as a back rest) when he had first found this spot, and over time, as he grew, so had the hole. Lily now occupied it, her derriere being slightly smaller than James', had quite a lot of room to spare. James took up the rolled over log, resting it on a fallen tree, leaning on it for support. In the background, a soft rustle of leaves could be heard as a slight breeze swayed the branches, and then there was the faint sound of flowing water coming from a creek a few minutes' walk away.
He wanted to reply something cheeky, something along the lines of "Isn't it considered rude to ask for a lady's age?" but thought better of it. The verdict was drawn by the look on Lily's face. She seemed to be taking this conversation especially seriously, and why shouldn't she? Wasn't it, after all, the first civil conversation they had had in their entire lives? "I'm not really sure," he spoke gently. Thinking a while, he continued. "I'm not all that sure she knows herself, but she's got to be around one hundred and forty-five. Something like that."
Lily's emerald eyes shot open. He knew she'd react like this. He had, after all, spent the last two years studying her reaction to many a things. "What?"
Nervously, James chuckled, trying to hide that deep inside, he'd wish he could say his mother was more around the age of forty five. Something seemed much more pleasant in having a mother young enough to enjoy things he did. Snapping out of his thoughts, he spoke again, this time, really surprising his companion. "You are actually the first to know. Sirius thinks she's around eighty, and Remus and Peter, they are convinced she's sixty."
Tucking a loose strand of crimson hair behind her ear, Lily's eyes took on that glossy look that happened whenever she'd throw herself into her thoughts. "It makes perfect sense," she spoke at last, saving James from having to resort to his own thoughts as company. "You're spoilt rotten, and it shows in the way you expect everything from everyone. And obviously, you were your mommy's little baby that was sent from heaven, and so you got all the attention in the world. It makes sense, actually, for your parents to be so old."
James smiled inwardly at her quick thinking, but frowned playfully at her insults. "Watch what you say to your host!" She blushed slightly. "But you're right, I was their miracle child and, naturally, they've always treated me as such." Such a James Potter response, he thought to himself, real smooth. Ha.
The silence that followed was – uncomfortable, to say the least. James watched as Lily watched him watch her from the corner of her eyes, and wondered why it was that she was always compelled to act vehemently angry towards him whenever he spoke. Even now, here on the Potter estate, the gleam in her green eyes never wavered. James secretly called it the Gleam of Death, for he was sure that if he pushed her too hard, her eyes would convince her hands to strangle him to death. And then, there was her voice. Around her friends, she spoke in different volumes, different tones, but with him it was always flat, angry, low, crisp (unless, of course, she was screaming). Even her posture was set in defensive/offensive mode.
There was something about that tension, something about the unease that made its perpetual existence both annoying and seem slightly forced or manufactured. To him, their tireless outbursts at each other, her constant abomination of his character or personality, his relentless attempts to con her into giving him a try even though he knows perfectly well that these aggravate her even more, all of these seemed very futile at this moment. Not to mention, juvenile.
Unable to stand that thing that bothered him about their silence, James finally spoke up. "Did you ever notice," his voice had made her visibly jump and, choking back a chuckle, he timidly continued, "how difficult it is to sit in complete silence whilst in the company of someone you feign disinterest in? All the while, you believe that silence is better than the uncomfortably and despondent exchange of words that would inevitably turn into an insalubrious slur of dialectic diarrhoea…" He eyed her with an expectant look, inviting her into his game of vocabulary showcase. On her part, she seemed impressed by his sudden launch into an attempt at another civil conversation.
"Yes." Silence. "What, pray tell o verbose one, madeth you believe that aforementioned disinterest is feigned?" She glared ahead as though speaking to the oak tree, tucking a that same lock of thick red hair behind her ear.
Glad and relieved that she had actually accepted his invitation, James continued, desperate to hold on to her attention, to impress her, and to make her see that this young boy was more than what he seemed. He cleared his throat. "I cannot pretend that my excessive arguing with you has not been a direct result of your publicly humiliating me at the end of our fifth year." He grabbed a twig that was lying on the ground beside his feet. She was not supposed to know that, he said to himself.
"Please, Potter, you've been turned down before in front of a crowd, if not by anyone else, I do distinctly recall four failed feeble attempts throughout fifth year to get me to date you. I believe I said 'no' each time!" She was now staring at him, that look in her eyes that not only made him feel inferior, but as though he should be ashamed of said inferiority. In four words: he hated that look. No. Better than that. He loathed it!
"It's not only that, Lily. Rejection, I can take. Public humiliation, I suppose, but…I…it's…"
"Go on," she pressed, her voice rising an octave. Her arms were folded across her chest, her eyes burning the side of his face.
"I don't really expect you to understand," he said shyly, and then, looking into her eyes, matching her set gaze, he continued. "But I do expect that you will respect the confidential nature of what you are about to hear." He glanced at his hand, where the twig he had been twirling had snapped unexpectedly. Oops, didn't know I did that! Not bothering to slide his slipping glasses back up his nose, he looked back at her. She nodded, a slight nod of the head, sending that lock of hair back across her face. As she delicately tucked it back behind her ear, James Potter summoned all the courage no sixteen year old boy had ever yet matched and resumed his explanation.
"I've – and don't get mad at this – but I've sort of made a habit out of watching, or rather, observing you. And, no, I'm not talking strictly your physical appearance," although I have spent quite a bit of time with that, "but more or less everything about you. Like, for example, who you associate with, what makes you tick, and then my favourite of all: what kind of chap is Lily Evans interested in?" He caught a glimpse of a twitch of her lip, threatening to either curl into a smile, or the other way and turn itself into a frown. He raised an eyebrow at her, drew a deep breath and continued, neglecting the little voice in his head saying stop there! STOP THERE! "Well, I've noticed that you usually date guys that are, oddly enough, similar to me. Tall, dark haired, witty, charming, funny and all of that, and I've always wondered and wanted to know why you pick them rather than me." That voice that had screamed at him before now filled a bit of the silence with the words because you're a bullying toe-frog, you nincompoop. When Lily made no move to suggest she would answer, and the silence was not only making James nervous enough to have pushed his glasses up four time, ran his hand through his hair twice, and pieced a hole through his skin while chewing his lower lip, he added a very hopeful, "Well?"
He watched as she took a hesitant breath, all the while clinging on to the belief that he hadn't said anything wrong. She closed her eyes, pressed her lips together so that they disappeared, and shook her head gently. "Potter," she laughed a sort of forced- pitiful-evil-mocking laugh, "I know that was meant to be sweet, but again you have managed to come off as conceited which, I guess you could say is one of the reasons why I've never taken an interest in you. Another is that you are far too immature. Actually, I don't think I've ever seen you serious before today! And then, there's also the fact that you are really inconsiderate of others. It's always about James Potter with you. Or Sirius, or Remus, or Peter even. It's always about what you want, never about others!"
She was, by this point, as furious as James was used to seeing her. The Gleam of Death had now migrated from her eye and swallowed her entire face, and the boy was sure that, had he been sitting nearer to her, the red haired witch would have shoved a twig up his nose. Or something evil like that. Why was it that he always made her mad no matter what he did or didn't do? Why couldn't he, just for once, have her calm, or cheerful, heck he'd even take sad over mad.
Knowing this bit of information, James chose not to egg her on and remain silent. Think of something, he repeated over and over until he realised that dawn had come and gone and his stomach was growling. Lily fidgeted slightly, looking a bit more than highly uncomfortable. "I'm sorry," he whispered at long last for the third time that day.
"Yeah, it's alright Potter. I'm not mad anymore." Well good! He thought. It had never taken this short amount of time to have her draw back her anger.
Playing it cool, James shrugged his shoulders, slowly getting up and wiping dust from his trousers. He offered his hand to Lily, "We should get back," he said as she accepted his hand and he pulled her up, all the while focusing on the fact that Lily had taken his help. She had let him take her hand in his, even if only briefly. She let him –
"JAMES!" He looked down, startled at her shriek, and saw what she had her eye on. To his dismay, he realised that, in all his excitement, he had clutched on to her hand and refused to let go.
"Sorry," he dropped her hand, sending h is to the bottom of his pockets. Four times sorry today, it's gotta be a record or something, he secretly cursed himself for being such a git. And then he cleared his thoughts. It seemed that, today, thinking had gotten him into trouble more than anything.
As they neared the official OoESL once more (silently, as always), Lily, (who was leading the way upon James' insistence) stopped and turned to face him. "Look," she started and he knew she meant business. James knew that it was common knowledge that, when a woman starts her sentence with the word 'look' it meant that she was expecting the other's full attention and cooperation. James directed said attention to her lips, so that if his ears missed anything, he'd still be able to read what she'd say. "Let's just pretend that what happened at school stays there, and we'll keep all that separate from what goes on here." His smile probably encouraged her to go on. "I've always been judgemental of you, Potter, and I've just realised that what I'm doing to you is exactly what I resent from my…from you. And so, er, what I…I guess that, well, as I'm staying here for the summer, it will be most beneficial to the entire household if we just," she pondered a for only half a second here, but James kept looking at her lips, intent on picking up any movement. And he noticed that, when in deep thought, Lily pressed her lips together really hard. "forgot about Hogwarts and concentrated on what to do with this weather." She had finished talking. He remained silent though, as he wasn't really sure if she was really done talking or if it was just him wishing that she had finished as his eyes were starting to water from the lack of blinking. She looked impatient, suddenly, and she folder her arms across her chest. "Well?"
"Yeah, sure, I – I agree." She seemed satisfied with his lame answer.
He didn't know why, but something about what Lily had suggested had suddenly inspired him to confess to her how he was secretly ecstatic that they'd share a few weeks together away from it all, and how he could not only wait to get to know her on a more friendly level, but also how anxious he was to finally have her take the time to acquaint herself with him. And he was going to tell her, he was ready to, honestly. Only his mother's piercing scream made him forget, and he ran straight for the back door.