Disclaimer: 'Tis not mine.
Six Hundred Thousand Words
Chapter One: Fifth Year
It is estimated that there are over six hundred thousand words in the English language alone. Six hundred thousand words, all defined to the tee. Six hundred thousand phrases to be expressed in a sentence. That's six hundred thousand different sounds an English speaking mouth is able to emit and in turn have that emission be understood by a pair of English hearing ears.
Six hundred thousand words to choose from, and all James Potter could say was, "Hey, Red!"
She ignored him as usual, flicking her long crimson hair over her shoulder, as if to state that she liked it just the way it was. She was proud like that. The sunlight from the window caught the strands as they swayed and her hair glowed softly like fire embers. He wanted to say that he liked it just the way it was too, but his words had an uncanny way of changing themselves somewhere on the way from his brain to his mouth.
"Ah, what's the matter Evans, you don't want to talk to me today?" he said instead. James had a nasty habit of calling her by her last name.
She didn't respond. She never did. It only meant he had to try harder.
"I'm wounded, Evans!" he exclaimed, placing his hand over his heart and slouching back dramatically in his seat. That drew a laugh from his friends and a few others nearby.
She didn't laugh though. She didn't even turn around. She was the only one in the room taking notes. She was the only one who bothered in History of Magic class. It didn't really matter; you could set of fireworks in the room and Professor Binns would never notice.
He had thought about taking a lot of notes to impress her once. It might've worked if Sirius hadn't set them on fire halfway through class. She had blamed the incident all on him, of course, and took it upon herself to dock ten points from Gryffindor. He would have almost admired her authority had he not loathed the very word itself.
She was like an itch he couldn't scratch. He was desperate for her attention, be it negative or positive. He couldn't stop once he started. It was on his list of addictions, beneath Quidditch, but above Snivellus bashing, which was quite a feat.
He had always been loud around her, the kind of loud that seeks attention and recognition. It was ironic that she was the only person who rarely gave any attention to him at all, but he planned to change that, eventually. James was used to getting what he wanted, and Lily was something he wanted even more than he was ready to admit.
He craved the light-headed feeling that came from her acknowledgment of him. For James, however, there was only one way he knew how to get it.
"Hey Sirius," he turned to his best mate, who was sitting in the seat next to him with his head on the desk. "Would you rather date the Giant Squid or Evans?" he asked loud enough for her, who was several rows in front of them, to hear.
Sirius lifted his head of the desk slightly and smirked, "I don't know James, what's the difference?"
Several people laughed loudly. Remus shot him a reproachful look.
He saw her quill pause and the tips of her ears redden, though she faltered but a moment before continuing to write: a small ripple in the flow of words. He wasn't finished yet.
"Well," he continued, facing Sirius but watching her carefully out of the corner of his eye. "I reckon Evans has a better arse."
Snap!
Her quill had broken in two between her fingers and she radiated a glow of anger. James grinned until the smarmy bloke next to her smiled at her and gave her another quill. Who was that kid anyway? On the way out of class James tipped an inkbottle across all the quill-giver's papers when he passed his desk, "Sorry?"
"It's not supposed to be a question," she said from behind him, taking out her wand. "Scourgify!" All the ink was back in the bottle.
James watched them leave the classroom together in a haze of red and a burning in the pit of his stomach, but couldn't decided who he was more angry at; the smarmy bloke, Lily, or himself.
Over six hundred thousand words and James Potter always chose the wrong ones.
Very short, very unedited, and the first of three of it's kind. One for fifth, one for sixth, one for seventh. I know James is mean, but keep in mind, most immature boys are.
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