Disclaimer: I don't own it, so stop asking, fools!
Author's Note: I promised tiger17lily I'd create a companion to Tradition. Thanks all the rest of you for reviewing, too. I hope you enjoy!
Keeping Tradition: One-shot
What happens when you become the reason of his pain?
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I watched him in History of Magic. It was out of the corner of my eye, but nevertheless, I still watched him. And he was watching me, quite intently, studying me with cat eyes, and chewing lightly on his quill.
The tip of my own quill breaks, and I sigh in frustration, digging through my bag for a new one. My last one left. But I won't let it get to me, because He's watching me. James Potter is watching me. It's not like he's never done it before, but now, it just seems to matter to me, in a way it hadn't for the past five years of my life.
"Who are you staring at?" My best friend, Ezra whispers, elbowing me in the ribs. "Ooh, James Potter...I thought you hated him?"
I ignore my loud friend, and shake my head, hoping that my long strands of crimson hair will fall into my face, hiding the blush painting its way onto my cheeks. Casting a sideways glance at him, I see that he does the same, and the blush comes harder.
I brush my hair out of my eyes, now that the blush has passed, and my moisten my lips, picking up my quill, and returning to my tower of notes. History of Magic is a horrible, dreadful, and boring but I pay attention any, because I'm such a good student.
James' eye catches mine again, and I see him lick his lips, too. Just running his tongue around them, like he's trying to seduce me. The blush comes back, harder and warmer this time. His lips are so full, and smooth...what would they feel like against mine? No. I push the thoughts away, disgusted, giving myself a violent jerk.
"Hey," he mouths and flashes me one of his infamous James Potter smiles. His trademark, if you will. But I don't return it; I can't let him get too cocky for his boots (not that he's wearing any, because he's not). Instead, I bite my bottom lip and turn back to Professor Binns. I wonder what it would be like to wake up dead.
I chew lightly on the end of my quill, one of those tasty sugar quills, and listen to Professor Binns continue on with his daily ramble. When will he ever shut up?
"Hey Lily, what time is it?" Ezra asks, tapping me on the shoulder and flicking back her dark brown hair.
It's like I've finally woken up after a long day.
"Oh no..." I murmur, looking at Ezra with wide green eyes. "He's gonna ask me,"
"What? Who's going to ask you?" She cocks her head to the side – like my pet owl, Hazel – and frowns. "Ask you what?"
"James Potter. He's going to ask me out again, it's like, tradition." Hesitating, I steal a look his way and gulp. He's talking to Remus Lupin. "Why does he always have to ask me? He knows I'm gonna say no, I always do."
Ezra smirks at me and giggles. Yes, it was tradition. I always said no when Potter asked me out. Always. And that wasn't about to change. Everything was going to keep on going the way it was supposed to go. In --
I looked at the wall clock.
In twelve minutes, that was, everything was going to be the same as it always had been. James Potter was not going to get lucky. Ever. He was too much of an arrogant tosser for that.
Professor Binns yawns widely and leans against the blackboard, coughing as chalk dust gets into his lungs. This really makes no sense, since, he's dead. So how could he breathe? Or get chalk dust in his lungs for tat matter?
"Alright students," He says in a bored voice, looking at his watch. "I want a 500 word essay on Troll Wars by Thursday."
Lots of people groan, and throw paper wads at Binns while he rolls his eyes. Really, I don't see how hard it is to do a 500 word essay. I mean, really. I swear, the students in sixth year are all slackers. And there's only one more month until school gets let out, you'd think they would make an effort.
"You people are sixteen. It's time to grow up," He coughs yet again (and it still makes no sense). "Take responsibility..watch out for your peers..respect your elders.. and most importantly: learn how to write 500 word essays." Too bad we learned that in like, second year.
I swear he should get sacked. Or, I would, if he hadn't had wheezed again. Leaning over my desk, I cock my head questionably at him, as if to ask 'how are you coughing if you're dead?' while nonchalantly twirling a strand of crimson red hair around my index finger.
Nine minutes to go according to the clock.
"Crap," Ezra flicked me. "Lils, did you take any notes? I, um, was totally not day dreaming about Sirius Black while we were supposed to be taking them..heh,"
"Ezra, seriously, you are disgusting." I roll my eyes as Ezra shakes her head innocently, looking at me with one brown and one blue eye.
"I'm sorry, but he's just so cute!" She feigns fainting. "I mean, if you had any hormones, maybe you'd think so too,"
"Ezra!" I gasp, whacking her with my notes. "You're horrible." I do too have hormones. Why does she always have to go and put me in a mood? "You're definitely not getting my notes now," Filthy bitch.
Annoyed, I push everything into my black bag and my left hand grips the tie holding my hair up; I tug it away, letting the hair spill around my shoulders.
"Lily, don't be so stubborn!" Ezra pouts, pointing to my notes. I put those away, too. Some people think I'm a push-over, and, in a way, I am: but not about school work...
...or when it comes to James Potter asking me out.
Seven minutes.
I wrote down all my assignments for the day, careful not to miss one subject.
Six minutes.
I untied, and retied my shoes, more tighter than how they were tied before.
Five minutes.
I anxiously stared at the ground, feelings James' eyes on me.
Four minutes.
Reapplying my chap stick, I stole a quick glance at James.
Three minutes.
My long nails drum themselves against the smooth wooden desk.
Two minutes and counting...
My fingers curl around the hem of my skirt, and I grip the fabric.
James pushes himself out of the chair, and I stare at him, along with countless other people. Professor Binns is so oblivious, that he doesn't even pay attention, but instead reads a book and yawns simultaneously.
The bell rings, loud and clear, and I fight back the lump in my throat. He's in the corner of my eye, stalking his way over to me.
Looking up, a little shocked that he's so close, I sling my bag over my shoulder and stumble towards the door. The crowd is gone by now, flooding out into the corridor. I'm trapped.
"Wait," he says, and I upturn my head, looking him straight in the eyes.
"What? What do you want this time, Potter?" His name falls off my tongue like something vile that I want to spit out. He always wants something from me.
Swallowing, he grasps my hand, and I flinch but don't pull back. The hand is so warm, and strong, and smooth against my own. It almost feels good.
"Go out with me, Evans?"
I can feel my lip curl, and it goes willingly. Suddenly his hand on mine feels like rough porcupine quills, and push him away, scowling. "James Potter, I wouldn't go out even if you were the last fucking person on earth!" I should have said yes. The sweet, simple word was there, just sitting on my tongue. I could taste it; sweet like Honeyduke's chocolate. But I swallowed it, and instead said something more harsh than it should have been.
Stumbling back, I nearly sprint out the door. I need to get away from him, before I turn around and say yes instead.
"Lily, we're going to be late for Transfiguration if you don't hurry!" Ezra says, grabbing my elbow and steering me east.
"I'll be right there..."
I knew he was hurt. He always was, you could see it in those big, beautiful brown eyes. But I didn't care, because James Potter drives me completely insane. Yes, he'd been hurt, ripped apart by my words and bleeding. But he'd get over it, he always did.
By tonight all the cuts and scrapes that I had given him would heal themselves, like magic. And he's ask me again, tomorrow. As long as there was tomorrow. Yes, he'd ask me. Again. He'd be prepared for another battle, and I'd reject him. Again.
I needed to keep tradition, because, if it broke, nothing would be right. It's not only wrong to break that specific tradition, but it scares me, too.
By now James probably knows that I'll never give in to him; that he'll never get the thing he wants most. And one day he'll give up, and let us go our separate ways. As long as I said 'no', that is. But I always will, nothing he does can change my mind.
I will keep tradition.
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A/N: That's it! I, personally liked it. Again, I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed for Tradition:
XxShine'n'sparklexX, Lily and James Love 4 ever, Immortal Phantom, Musical Mich, tiger17lily, mische, Anaela loves who, blackoliveyes10, Ikinder, metro.max, Opal Roseblossom, Mahazzy, cerdinalz, Semi-CrazyWithaLittleWeirdness, kiki
15 reviews! Woo! I hope you guys liked this one, too. (:
Nos vemos y review por favor!
xx indigoskies (SpicyMuchacha)