Chapter 4: Dinner

Uh oh…it's dinner time. –Scary music- I wonder what will happen next. But yeah, you all know the drill by now; none of this is mine, it's all J. K. Rowling's, remember to leave me reviews at the end, and continue on with the story.

When my mother called us downstairs for dinner, James had tried out every single Muggle appliance we owned. I was about ready to pull my hair out by that point; he was so tiresome! None of my negativity had any effect on him; he continued on undaunted, no matter what dry remark I made about it. That, alas, was the typical way of James Potter; it was one of countless things I hated about him.

We all took a seat around the dinner table by around eight-thirty. Mr. and Mrs. Potter were looking quite thrilled with what was laid out, even though there wasn't too much variety. Petunia was there as well - the vision of sourness - and she kept shooting James filthy looks. Normally, I wouldn't have condoned the rudeness towards a fellow magical person, but of course, this was James we were referring to; I let her look at him how she wanted.

"Everything is delicious, Michelle," Mrs. Potter complimented her as she tasted the vegetables. "These are the best vegetables I've ever had."

"Actually, I was held up at work all afternoon; Lily cooked for you tonight," Mum said, motioning towards me proudly.

"You're very gifted in the kitchen, Lily," Mr. Potter chimed in. "I've never had such good chicken."

"You flatter me," I said modestly, my typical blush coming to my cheeks. "You would be surprised how many times I screwed that recipe up."

"It's good though," James added. "I like it."

I gave him a very mocking sort of smile. "Why thank you."

"No problem." His voice was the same as before, but it had a cooled edge to it; he obviously didn't appreciate the aggression I was giving him.

"So…what are your special talents, James?" Mum asked, trying to bridge the awkward silence. "Are you into the arts?"

"I'm an athlete," James said. "I play Muggle sports, but I enjoy the Wizard sport Quidditch, the most."

"Lily is terrified of playing Quidditch," Petunia said all of a sudden. "She told me that she falls off a lot while she plays."

"Quidditch isn't for everyone," James said, his eyes flickering briefly to me. "It's played high above the air; a lot of people don't like heights."

"But you like activities like that?" Mum prompted.

"I love them," James said, unabashed. "I'll do anything dangerous, so long as I don't break my neck."

"Once, when we were out on holiday, James went bungee-jumping," Mr. Potter said. "Insane sports are all he likes to do."

"That's quite impressive," Mum said. "Lily hates those types of endeavors. She particularly doesn't like to swim; when she was four, she nearly drowned in the community pool because she fell in by mistake, and she refused to get near the water again."

"Poor thing," Mrs. Potter said affectionately to me. "I'm so sorry."

"It was a long time ago; it doesn't really matter," I said, crimson anyway.

"I can teach you how to swim some time, Lily," James volunteered.

"That would be so kind of you!" Mum exclaimed. "Lily, would you like James to teach you how to swim?"

"No thank you," I declined. "That's not necessary."

"It's fun, and very refreshing," Mr. Potter said. "You would love it, Lily."

"I'd rather not, but thank you for offering," I said, trying to hide my horror. Me in a bathing costume in front of James Potter! It was truly a fate worse than death.

The conversation kept going after that; we talked a lot about crazy sports that James had tried out, and my mother kept finding stories of me and my traumatizing childhood to share with the group. Petunia preferred not to speak to anyone, but when a tale about my misfortunes came up, she was the first to giggle. I tried not to say much on the subject of my youthful disasters, but I did blush a lot; the Potters kept telling me how sorry they were that I got into such accidents all the time.

Finally, after what felt like years, my mother sent Petunia to grab the fruitcake out of the pantry and I was supposed to get plates, forks, and a knife. I immediately left the table to do the task, but to my very great astonishment and dismay, James got up to help me.

"Here, give me the plates and I'll pass them around," he said, holding out his hand.

"Are you sure?" I asked. "You're the guest."

"It's fine," he said. "Just give it to me."

I shrugged and handed him the plates, which he promptly offered to everyone. I also got out the jug of iced tea and six cups; James forced me to let him pour it out for whoever wanted it. I never thought he would do something like that; it was such a courteous, wholesome act, so of course I would never see the famously arrogant James Potter doing it. But he did, and willingly, which was, I suppose, a credit to him. I even found myself smiling at him a little, and he smiled back warmly whenever he saw me.

What was going on here? James was implementing some manners? I never thought I'd see the day.

Something had to be very, very wrong here.

Yes! James has manners! I know, I'm very surprised too. :D Anyway, I told you the whole disclaimer/review jazz at the beginning this time, so you can just move on to the next chapter now.