Endless thanks to beta - SnowyWinterTales
Aimlessness
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She's walking the halls. Not especially bored, but she does have a pleasant sense of 'nothing needs doing so I'll wander around'. She rounds a corner, and another. She finds a window to look out of, tires of the view, and continues on her way to Nowhere in Particular.
It's pleasant, this solitary aimlessness, she thinks.
She's made her way into a circular corridor consisting of only grey stone walls, with a surprisingly small amount of portraits lining them. She walks slowly along the curve of the wall and inspects the ones that are there, finding it mildly interesting to watch the characters in the paintings wander around.
"Miss! Miss! You there, ginger missus! I say get to class; I say – I say – you do as I say!"
She turns to the picture making all the ruckus; it's a portrait of a quasi-important looking man standing stately and tall in a small verdant garden.
"You hear me, young lady? Get to class or I'll 'ave the 'eadmaster after you! After your 'ead he'll be!"
She smiles at the portrait before replying,
"I've just finished my last NEWT; I have no classes to get to."
She continues around the hall, while the stately man yells after her, desperate to be the authority. Some of the other portraits give her sympathetic looks.
She smiles and waves goodbye, going further along the curved corridor, before pausing in front of a window.
It looks out to, well, nowhere really. She can see some grass, plants, and a tiny edge of the lake if she cranes her neck a little.
She hears a shuffle of feet, and turns, casting her gaze around the curvature of the corridor.
It's him.
She whips her head around, and habitually thinks that she should walk back the way she came, in order to avoid him. She can just imagine him positively invading her enjoyable aloneness; the prat.
But, you know, besides how much of a prat he is, she really can't be bothered avoiding him. They've struck up a perfectly tolerable, even friendly relationship this year anyway; his company should not be too straining.
She peers around again. He's seen her now; it would be too late to run even if she wants to. She smiles at him and turns her head back to the window, leaning her elbows on the sill.
He walks up next to her at the window and takes a glance out at the view of, well, not much.
"Hey," is all he says.
"Hey," is all she replies.
He takes a deep breath and it almost makes him sound nervous. It's something he rarely is, and she smiles inwardly at the thought that she can make him, the all-popular confident him, feel like this.
He breathes out before speaking again; words he hasn't chosen carefully.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?"
She looks at him, entertained yet incredulous.
"Not really. It's quite plain."
He laughs nervously.
"You're right. Don't know what I was thinking."
She smiles at him, and he relaxes, sliding back to his confident self.
"So," he says, "walk with me, Evans?"
"Sure. But let's go the way you came, I think I can still hear a portrait back there yelling at me."
They share a small laugh, and walk quietly back they way he came.
"Was Transfiguration your last NEWT?" He is trying to make conversation.
"Mhm."
"Mine too. How did it go?"
"Oh, alright, I mucked up that bloody water-into-wine section at the end though; I never could quite grasp that topic."
"Yeah …" he tails off.
She sighs. She would rather have still been walking by herself than with him, making idle small talk. But then, she would also rather walk with this boy than be by herself. It doesn't quite make sense to her.
They walk on in silence. The circular hall seems to have begun a slight descent.
She can see his robes flowing in the corner of her eye and has the sudden thought that tangling herself in those robes would be extremely relaxing. She finds the boy cuddly, cuddly.
Oh, Merlin. Great, bloody, sodding Merlin, no. This can not be happening.
She feels slightly sick. Her hands get sweaty as she mulls over the confusing notions in her head.
The descent of the circular hall brings them to what she supposes is the floor below from where she started her aimless journey, but she doesn't think she's seen this part of the floor before.
"Where in the name of Dumbledore are we?"
He gives her a look.
"'In the name of Dumbledore'?"
She just shrugs. NEWTs are over, who cares if she sounds ridiculous?
He shakes his head and continues.
"We're just near the Great Hall; you'll see it if we turn right here."
She looks at him as he gestures to the corridor on their right, thinking that the gesturing arm and talking mouth could be put to better use wrapped around her and snogging her respectively.
For goodness' sake, I must stop thinking like this. Must, must, must stop. Now. Can not snog or kiss this boy. That would be, well, it would be fantastic! No! No, it would be bad. Very bad. Can't let him win, not now. It's only because I'm relieved that exams are over, that's all.
Her stomach flutters a little; a sort of ache that she enjoys feeling. She turns her head away, determined to distract herself from him.
He starts walking towards the corridor on the right; she hesitates, but for only a moment, and walks on with him.
He flicks his hair ever so slightly. She notices. Her stomach gives another jolt.
I have to have this boy. I must. Damn my bloody stubbornness. I might as well admit it. Damn, damn, damn.
She can see the doors of the Great Hall now, and her sense of direction is returned; she knows where she is.
He looks around the corridor with admiration.
"Yeah, me an' Padfoot used this corridor all the time. In fact, there was a secret door along the wall that led to the kitchen's pantry, but Dumbledore locked it. Said we were getting up to too much mischief."
She rolls her eyes.
Prat.
He smiles at her proudly.
Arrogant prat.
"You know, Potter, if you weren't such an arrogant prat, and if it weren't for my bloody pride, I do believe I'd be snogging you this very minute in post-NEWT celebration."
He looks at her, disbelievingly.
"What?"
She continues walking towards the end of the corridor.
She is out of reach, but he stops her with his voice.
"Wait!"
She waits for him to catch up.
He sidles up next to her, and repeats hopefully,
"What?"
"You heard me," she sighs. "You definitely heard me."
"Just had to make sure I wasn't dreaming or something …"
"I assure you, James, you're not, though I wish I was."
"Why?"
She looks at his face, irritated by the fact that he's asking so many questions instead of the preferred alternative of kissing her.
"Because in my dreams, your arrogance and my pride would have disappeared. A long time ago."
"Hey, Lily, I think you're dreaming," he tries.
She laughs at him.
"Arrogant prat."
"Would you stop saying that?"
"Would you stop being an arrogant prat then?"
"Would you stop being stuck up then?"
"Potter! Would you bloody kiss me already? How long does it take after I say 'I'd be snogging you' for you to get the idea?"
He smiles mischievously.
"Well, I don't know about that, Evans –"
"Oh, shut up!"
She stands on her toes and kisses him.
She steps back and looks once again down the corridor towards the Great Hall. He just stares at her in disbelief. She turns back to his face and sighs before she takes his hand, surprising him.
"Come on, James, let's go and let Sirius gloat."
They smile at each other, and head towards the Great Hall.
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AN: Thanks a bunch for reading. Reviews and constructive critisism are both welcome and appreciated.