The first week back at Hogwarts seemed to go almost as quickly as the firewhisky after a Gryfindor quidditch victory.
In other words: very, very fast.
Classes were attended (and not attended, if your name was Sirius Black), homework was done, meals were eaten, and as usual, there was the bare minimum of sleep.
Lily was already exhausted.
Not only had she spent the past six days avidly taking notes and visiting the library with every second of her spare time, she also was investing a lot of energy into avoiding James Potter.
Because really, it was so much easier to remember what a prick he was when he wasn't making her insides turn into mush.
Which was, basically every time she looked at him.
She put it down to the hormones. There was no denying, James Potter was very, very attractive. Not that she'd ever admit that to anyone, not even Alice. Late night discussions on the cutest boys were unfortunately frequent in their dormitory, and it went without question that Sirius Black and James Potter were always at the top of the list, with Remus a few paces behind. Poor Peter, was somewhere down the bottom. He was a nice boy and all, but not exactly the type who would make you want to drop your pants and bend over, as Lou so classily put it.
She knew that Potter was a menace, all hexing and smart quips and masculine bravery - i.e: an aura of false confidence, probably to compensate for a very small dick. However, Lou had informed her, this was not the case. Apparently it was very large.
Lily did not want to know how Lou knew this.
But, Lily couldn't help noticing, despite her sincerest efforts to avoid him, that he was doing a decent job as Head boy. He was, of course, adored by the other students (expect the Slytherins), and the younger ones looked up to him with an air of reverence. Last night she had gone on a walk to visit Hagrid, and had seen James on the quidditch pitch, giving extra flying lessons to two scrawny fourth years.
Go away, strange tingling sensation in the pit of her stomach.
- SUNDAY NIGHT
On Sunday night, she was returning from the library, arms full of books. It was almost curfew, so she was running. Head girls shouldn't be late, although that seemed to be Lily's forte. Outside the moving staircase on the third floor, she ran headlong into Remus Lupin, dropping her books. There was an outbreak of chuckling from the subjects of the paintings near them.
'Shit!' Lily dropped to the ground to pick up her scattered books.
'You've really got the language thing going at the moment, eh Lily?' He raised a dark, sarcastic eyebrow through his toffee coloured hair.
She frowned indignantly up at him.
'My grammar is ever expanding.' She said, crossly.
'Indeed.' He gave her a half smile, and extended a hand to help her up.
Letting a small grin slip across her face, she reluctantly put her hand in his, and was pulled to her feet.
'That's twice this week alone I've been knocked over by one of you lot.' She said, mock angrily.
'Us lot?' Again with the crooked eyebrow.
'You know. The Marauders. Potter crashed into me at the station.' She hugged her books to her chest, and rolled her eyes. 'Want to walk back to the common room with me?'
'Actually, I was looking for you. James wanted me to show you the Head's common room, as you're so reluctant to discover it through him.'
Lily blushed bright red. Had it been that obvious that she'd avoiding him?
'I haven't . . . I mean, I have but, not really . . .' She stammered, not knowing how to deny something that was so obviously true.
Remus smiled sadly.
'He's getting over it.' He half smiled again.
Lily felt her stomach drop. Getting over it? Did that mean getting over her?
Wait, why should she even care? She shouldn't want him to like her. He was just annoying, masochistic and arrogant.
She hated him. Truly, she did. She swore it. Really.
Suddenly, the perfect idea struck her. Amazing actually. Quite genius. How to get over James Potter.
Except 'getting over him' made it sound as if she had, at some point, been 'under him'.
How to forget James Potter then. How to forget his crooked smile, deep hazel eyes and athletic body. How to forget his square jaw and skin tan from Quidditch. How to forget the lopsided glasses that slipped down his classic (slightly, but adorably broken) nose.
Ah, fuck. Not again.
'Lily?' Remus asked, waving his hand in front of her face.
'Wh-what?' She started, zapping back to reality.
'Are you coming to see the your common room?'
'Oh. Yeah, okay.' Remus turned to lead the way.
Pushing their way through the hordes of first years, Remus led the way to a dusty tapestry tucked into a hidden corner of the Gryfindor common room.
'The password's 'Amor Expectat'.' He patted her on the back and turned to leave.
'Wait, where are you going?' Lily asked, quickly.
'I can't go in. It's your common room.'
'Is Potter in there?' She said nervously, attempting to sound casual.
'Don't know.' He looked at her strangely. 'He's not a bad guy, Lily.'
She flushed.
'I know he's not. He's just annoying, that's all.'
'Cut him some slack. He'll prove himself.' He grinned at her again, and walked off.
Confused, Lily sighed, and said the password. Before her eyes, a doorknob emerged on the tapestry and she grasped and turned it.
- HEAD'S COMMON ROOM
She stepped into a small, round room with a blazing fire. Two large desks were fitted against the walls, and shelves filled the spaces in-between. Two comfy, squishy armchairs and a sofa were positioned in front of the fire, and a door led off to a small, shared bathroom.
But what was most amazing was the ceiling. A disillusionment charm had been placed on it, like the one in the Great Hall, and the night sky was in place of the wooden beams. She smiled happily. She lost herself for a few minutes in counting the stars on the ceiling. Astronomy may have been Lou's thing, but Lily still loved it. It reminded of all the nights she had spent in the park with Sev, after sneaking out through the creaky gate in the front garden. She could almost hear it's low squeak, that still gave her a thrill down her spine. It sounded so real, so close -
'Uh, Evans?' James Potter stood in the doorway of the bathroom, clad only in a towel wrapped around his waist.
Shit shit shit shit shit.
Lily let her mouth drop a little bit open. Broad shoulders. A bloody eight pack. Who even has eight packs? Bloody Potter, that's who. His body was perfectly sculpted and toned by Quidditch. Her eyes travelled down his strong, muscular chest, over his strong, muscular arms and down his strong, muscular abdomen, down the 'V' shape that pointed directly to his . . .
OH MY GOD LILY EVANS STOP.
Finally she looked back up and met his eyes. A small grin played on the corner of his mouth. Shit, he'd caught her.
'Potter! What the hell are you doing?' She turned around quickly, hoping to disguise her delayed, less appropriate reaction.
'I, uh, took a bath down here. It's less crowded and I don't have to wait as long for bloody Sirius to finish his night-time routine. He has fucking moisturiser, did you know that? And Moony likes to spend a good hour in the bathroom. Wish I could say the same for Peter; he rarely enters it. ' He babbled, trying to cover up the awkward moment between them.
'Right.' She turned slowly, half covering her face with her hand. 'Do you think you could put some clothes on?'
It was James' turn to blush.
'Uh, yeah, right. Of course.' He strode over to the couch to pick up his robes, and retreated quickly into the bathroom. Lily took the time to calm herself. Really, it wasn't that surprising that he had a nice body. He was a bloody Quidditch player, for god's sake. They all have nice bodies. Well . . . it was just that James' was really nice. Just because she could acknowledge that, didn't mean she fancied him. She was just being objective.
James.
When he re-emerged from the bathroom, Lily was sitting on the sofa, reading through her Transfiguration text book. There was an adorable line between her eyebrows as she frowned when she didn't understand something. He rarely saw that look - the only time she didn't understand something was generally in Transfiguration.
'Having trouble with the Transfiguration homework?' He asked, casually. He hoped that she hadn't noticed how long he had been absent. He'd had to have another shower once he returned to the bathroom - a cold one.
She looked up, a flicker of surprise dancing across her face. He felt embarrassed. Was it really so unusual that he was perceptive or helpful?
'Yeah, actually. I'm just going over the animagus process. I don't understand it.'
James grinned inwardly. If only she knew . . .
'Do you want help with it?' He asked, hopefully.
Her eyes widened, and she blinked a couple of times.
'Uh . . . why?' She scrunched her nose up and looked at him, confused.
James felt the heat crawling up his neck. Shit, he shouldn't have asked. Her bemused reaction was the worst kind of rejection.
'Well, uh, you know . . . I just understand it pretty well, and, you know, I'm alright at Transfiguration . . .' He stuttered. He just wanted her to say a sharp 'Get lost, Potter,' and tell him to leave. Then at least it would be over.
'You're a little bit more than alright.' She scoffed. 'I saw your last test paper.'
James allowed himself a small chuckle and scooted next to her on the sofa. She'd noticed. That meant she was vaguely interested in his life. He'd take that.
'Spying, were we?' He said, looking at her from under his mop of black hair, and giving her a crooked smile.
He felt himself harden a little when her cheeks filled with a rosy blush.
'N-no. Just interested. You didn't do as well as Alice.' She countered, defensively.
He let a goofy grin spread across his face, as he rubbed the back of his neck modestly.
'Look, Evans. D'you want some help, or not?' He asked, playfully. Teasingly almost.
She looked at him through narrowed eyes.
'Fine. Just don't let this inflate your head, Potter.' She gave him a wicked grin, and edged slightly closer. As their knees touched, James thought he felt a spark of electricity fly through his body.
- LATER
Lily
She was sitting in the Head's common room, next to James Potter. Potter. The complete and utter bane of her life.
But he was actually being - could it be - nice. And modest, even. And he could explain things well, with his deep, reassuring voice, warm presence and nice soapy smell. Although it was a little distracting.
She snapped out of her reverie, as he adjusted himself on the couch, moving his leg so it brushed her knee again, and placing his arm on the back of the sofa. God. He was so confident, so . . . un-awkward (like her).
But he was still an ass.
It was just hard to remember that when he was being so damn . . . nice.
It's been a week, she thought to herself. Give it another one, and he'll be back to being the same old arrogant, bullying toe rag.
But what if he didn't?
She looked up at him through her long lashes. When he tried not to smile at her teasing, he got adorable dimples in the corners of his mouth. She kind of wanted to kiss them.
Wait, WHAT? No she didn't. Oh my god, Lily Evans, you are being betrayed by your own hormones.
Traitors.
- LATER STILL
Two hours later they had migrated to the floor.
James lay, spread eagled across the rug in front of the fire, on his stomach, propped up on his elbows. Lily was flat on her back, legs on the seat of the sofa. It was an odd position, but it was comfortable. They had been going over this for more than two hours, and they were both exhausted.
'So . . . you're saying, the transformation comes after being able to physically identify with the animal . . . which occurs by combining all senses in the act of transformation with the spell . . . and then giving the body over the effects.'
'Yes!' James sat up, excitedly. 'You got it!' He grinned at her, elated. He felt so proud of her. That was his Lily. Smartest witch in the year.
Forgetting herself, she grinned back at him. Sticking her tongue out, she asked:
'How the hell do you know this all so well, Potter?'
James floundered for the correct response in this situation. He couldn't very well just transform into a bloody great stag in front of her. Not only would it totally freak her out - and break around fifty school rules - the Marauders would kill him.
'Uh . . . study hard?' He replied, tentatively.
She gave him a weird look.
'Well. I mean, I suck at charms. You're good at charms. And potions. More than good, actually. I guess people just have their strengths in different things.' He smiled nervously, and ran his hands through his hair. He knew she hated it, but it was a nervous habit by now.
He was caught by surprise when she reached and pulled his hand away from his hair. As their hands brushed, his heart jumped and his stomach dropped, like when he dropped suddenly in height during Quidditch.
He started at her, startled. Had Lily Evans just voluntarily touched him?
She blushed bright red, and began to stammer.
'Sorry . . . I just, you look . . . it's just annoying when you do that.' She stuttered out, regretting touching him, because she felt tingly all over again. Blasted hormones.
He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.
'Sorry, it's a nervous habit.' He looked at her quickly, then back at the floor.
'Really? I thought it was because you thought your hair looked cool messed up.' Lily countered, actual curiosity mixed with the skeptical implication.
It was James' turn to blush.
'Yeah . . . it used to be. I mean, when I was little, Mum used to do everything to make it stay flat . . . then I just gave up, and liked it looking messy, I guess. My own miniature rebellion.' He grinned cheekily, knowing fully well his rebellion was anything but little. 'I made the most out of looking like a . . . ah, what did my mother call it? A scoundrel. That's it. And then when I realised not everyone likes a rebel.' Here he made brief eye contact with Lily and felt his insides contract again. 'I tried to stop. But by then it kind of . . . stuck.'
She looked at him for a long time, eyes slightly narrowed. This was the first time they had retained eye contact for an extended period of time, and it made him slightly nervous. When was the right time to look away? Should he look away? Goddamn it, why did his social skills go down the toilet when she was around?
'When I was little,' she began, pushing her own hair back from her face, 'everyone used to bite their nails. Like, everyone. And I wanted to fit in . . . I thought it was so cool. I guess I just wanted to be the same. But every time I bit my nails, they'd just grow back over night to the same length as before.'
James bit back a laugh. Thought of Lily actually caring what other's thought was kind of weird.
'And then, I eventually trained myself to not grow them back. But by then, biting your nails wasn't cool, and everyone had started wearing nail polish. Except . . . by then it was a habit and I couldn't stop.' She placed her hand in front of them. Sure enough, the nails were short and bitten.
'They were so short I couldn't even paint them. So all the girls had pink and purple nails and my nails just kind of . . . bled.' She grinned half-heartedly at him. 'And I could never teach myself to grow them back. Weird, huh?'
James looked at her. She was voluntarily offering a bit of herself up to him. She was nervous, he could tell. She was biting her lip, and her knee jumped up and down uncontrollably.
'I guess we're not so different, then.' He wanted so badly to reach out and hold her hand with it's poor, bleeding nails. But he didn't.
A strange look flickered over her face.
'Except,' she said, with a hint of disapproval, 'I don't hex Slytherins in the corridors.'
James let out a loud laugh.
'I haven't done that since half way through last year!' He grinned sheepishly. 'Admittedly it was because I wanted you to like me, but then I guess it's the better thing to do right? Not stoop to their level, I mean.'
Lily blinked. Hard.
'Did you just say you stopped hexing people so I'd like you?' She stared at him incredulously.
Again, James blushed.
'Well . . . initially.'
Lily shook her head in disbelief.
'I can't believe you sometimes.'
'What?'
'Well, are you really so arrogant that you think I only refused to go out with you because you hexed Slytherins? Ever thought there might be a lot of things wrong?' She was a little mad. Okay, it was a little irrational, but she needed to be mad, or her ovaries would blow up.
James ran his hand through his hair again, making it stick up on end.
'Geez Lily, I was just tackling things one at a time. I know I'm not perfect - '
'You got that right.' Lily put in.
' - but,' James continued, 'the point is, I'm trying to change. I know my faults.'
'See, I don't think you do.' Lily stood up, a brief wave of anger crossing her. 'Are you honestly saying that you think that you did the wrong thing by hexing Slytherins?'
'I'm not saying they didn't deserve it.' James said, thoughtfully. 'Maybe I just realised there are better ways to deal with things.'
Lily looked at him, eyes narrowed.
Damn it, she couldn't find a flaw in his answer. Only one way to solve this.
'I'm going to bed.'
'Is that an invitation?'
'Goodnight, Potter.'
- NEXT DAY
'What do you mean, you've already got plans for Saturday?' Lily asked Lou, outraged as only best friends can be.
Alice looked at Lou plaintively.
'This is my first Hogsmede visit without Frank! You promised we'd all go together.'
Marly put an arm around Alice's shoulders.
'Moral support. You need to be there for moral support!' She hissed at Lou.
'Well I bloody can't, so you'll just have to get over it.' Lou tossed herself onto her four poster bed, picked up the latest copy of Witch Weekly, and began idly flicking through it.
'Who's the bloke?' Lily asked, indignantly.
'Bloke? Who says theres a bloke. I just have stuff to do.'
'Oh please,' scoffed Marly, 'yeah, we've got a lot of homework; but if Alice and Lily are forgoing one afternoon, I think you can. You barely even set foot in class anyway!'
'Which is exactly why I have to stay behind. Flitwick says I need to do this extra essay if I want to pass healing charms.'
'It's not an extra essay.' Lily said disapprovingly. 'It's the essay that was assigned to us two weeks ago.'
'Same thing.' Lou began to make bubbles come out the end of her wand. 'Long and short of it is, can't go. Sorry, Alice, but you'll just have to get through this one sans moi.'
'You're a bitch.' said Alice grumpily, reaching for her quill and parchment. It was five o clock, and Alice always wrote her daily letter to Frank at five o clock. Every goddamn day.
Not that she was pedantic or anything.
'Yeah, well.' Lou said, almost listlessly. This surprised Lily; Lou was hardly ever listless.
'Everything okay, Lou?' She asked, poking her friend lightly in the side.
'Everything's fine and dandy.' She turned over and pretended to read.