After I was released from the infirmary, my mother forbade me to ski for the remainder of the trip. She reported this to me as if it was a horrible tragedy. Frankly, I wasn't too upset about that fact.
The thing I was upset about, however, was she confined me to bed, convinced I was in death's grasp. With strict orders not to move from the hotel bed, my mother slipped out the door after Petunia and my dad, her skis in hand.
I thought finally being alone would be a gift, but it only took me a few minutes to get bored. I couldn't even pay attention to my book; it lay on my stomach, trying to catch my attention. To make it even worse, I kept losing count of the tiny bumps on the ceiling.
Unwillingly, my thoughts wandered to the events in the infirmary the night before. To how badly James had wanted his presence kept a secret. To the moment when the water was spraying down on our heads. To his comment as he had made his escape.
Why did I always have to get in situations like this? Why did they always involve James Potter?
This vacation would have been completely normal if he wasn't here. Whether I liked it or not, I would be out skiing with my parents, having a grand old time.
I was well aware that I couldn't blame my fall from the ski lift on Potter, but it made my anger bubble up nonetheless. He just had to intrude on my time away from him.
A knock rapped on the door, causing my thoughts from the day before to flee from my mind. Glancing at the clock, I noticed it wasn't even noon yet. My family couldn't be returning so early.
"Who is it?" I called warily, my eyes glued to the door, as if it was about to be kicked open.
"Room service," the low voice, muffled by the thick door replied.
Room service? My mother might have sent something up to me, though it was still a little early for lunch.
Practically leaping from the bed, I stumbled to the door, flinging it open.
The person standing in front of me was definitely not from room service.
"How did you find my room?" my voice sounded considerably calmer than I felt. Panic exploded through my veins. Just at the sight of him, my thoughts flashed to that moment against the shower wall, with the water raining down on the two of us.
"Er, I asked the front desk?" James' hands were thrust in his pockets, and he actually looked…nervous.
It was almost like a miracle. Cocky, arrogant, self-confident James Potter was nervous? I could practically feel the ground beneath my feet begin to heat up, getting ready for the apocalyptic explosion that would end all of humanity.
His eyes looked anywhere but me, and he kept shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
"I'm not sure whether I should be freaked out by that or not," I muttered, more to myself than anything.
His right hand left his pocket, sifting through his hair instead.
"I just heard you were released from the infirmary. I came to see how you were doing."
"You seem to know quite a bit about my whereabouts today."
James lifted his eyes to mine. "Is that wrong? You did take quite the fall yesterday. Is it bad that I was worried?" His voice tapered off by the end, but I heard it all the same. He sounded much more confident than he had before.
Silence extended between us. An actual server from room service passed us, sending a strange look our way. I rolled on my heels back and forth, gripping the doorway.
"I'm fine." I finally whispered. What else was I supposed to say to that?
I hated when situations like this happened. I couldn't stay angry at James when he did considerate things like this.
Once in our third year, I'd accidentally overslept, and missed half of my first class. I had been almost close to tears as I'd bustled about, grabbing anything I could before I fled for my class; it would be the first time I was late in my entire school career, including my time in primary school. My socks didn't match, and my hair was frizzing at the ends. I looked and felt like a wreck. My mind immediately jumped to the worst of conclusions: I was going to be expelled, or get detention. Professor McGonagall was going to hate me forever.
While sprinting to class, my mind wired like it had been hooked up to a light bulb, I'd almost literally run into James Potter and his friends while rounding a corner. His hands, still larger than mine even at that age, had caught my shoulders, steadying me.
I hadn't wanted him to see me in my frazzled state, but only concern filled his eyes.
I'd immediately started shouting at him to let me go because I was late. It had been instinct. When James Potter was in the vicinity, my voice automatically leapt to the highest level. James had silently listened to my ranting, all the while pushing my hair behind my ears. His hands had this calming affect on me, making my voice die out as he held my eyes with his deep ones.
"Leave it to me." his smirk had always annoyed me, but a fluttering was filling my stomach when this one formed on his mouth.
His smirk was ever present as he led me to our classroom. In his confident manner, he threw the door wide open.
"Morning McGoogies!" he shouted, causing every head to turn our way. I wanted to hide my face, but James still had a hand on my shoulder, making it impossible for me to turn around. Why was he bringing attention to us?
"Mr. Potter, do you know how many times you have been late to this class and…Miss Evans?" The professor's eyes widened at the sight of me next to the troublemaking boy. "What in the world is going on here?"
"About that professor," James interjected before anything could come out of my throat, "I made Lily come along with us."
"For what, Mr. Potter?"
"For something that we cannot reveal at this time." Black added offhandedly, dusting lint off of his robe.
McGonagall's eyes became slits, looking exactly like her feline form. "Is this true, Miss Evans?"
Again, before I could answer, James spoke for me. "That's not important right now. What is important is this isn't Lily's fault. It's mine." He emphasized his last few words, his eyes keeping their lighthearted glint.
The other students whispered, glancing over their shoulders at the five of us in the doorway, especially focusing on James and me.
The professor's face was hard as she considered those last words.
"You'd be taking on two detentions then." She said in a reminding tone to James.
Shock filled me. I could feel my eyes widen and my throat clench. I was ready to tell Professor McGonagall the whole story of the morning. I would be responsible for my own fault. But again, James beat me to it.
"I'm aware of that." He affirmed, his voice not even faltering. If anything, he sounded content about it.
Surprisingly, McGonagall accepted that as a valid answer. She gestured to our seats, giving us the silent treatment for the rest of the class.
I tried to stay angry at James for being a toerag all the time. Even after that class was over, and he'd asked me to Hogsmeade. But how could I be angry at a boy that had just taken another detention on his record in my place.
"You in there, Lily?" James had bent down to my level, making our faces uncomfortably close.
Shaking my head slightly to clear it, I stepped back a bit. My knuckles were white from gripping the doorway so hard. I tried to order my hand to release the wood, but it refused.
His smirk appeared on his lips as he stood up straight again. "I thought I was going to have to start worrying again for a tick there."
I was about to roll my eyes and reply with something snarky, but my stomach interrupted me. With a loud grumble, my belly reminded me that I hadn't had something to eat since yesterday. Heat filled my cheeks as I sent a frown down at the annoying organ.
Then, as if answering my grumble, an odd noise came from James' stomach. He looked about as shocked as I did.
"You too, huh?" I didn't actually feel the words leave my lips, but apparently I'd said them, because James glanced at me with a laugh in his eyes. A traitorous smile spread across my lips, matching his.
"You want to get something to eat?" He implored, leaning against the door frame that I was still gripping onto for dear life.
Not with you, I wanted to say. But my stomach growled a complaint at me again.
I quickly glanced over my shoulder. My book lay flat on my unmade bed, and the sun was streaming through the window, mocking me. My mother had told me specifically to stay in the room. But I felt fine.
Except for a strange buzzing feeling in my gut, but that was most likely just because I was hungry.
I could call the real room service for some food, but that might take too long. I'd probably eat my pillow by that time.
"Fine," I hesitantly gave in, trying to avoid the glittering mischief deep in his eyes. "But no funny business. Alright?"
James held up his hands innocently. "What funny business? We're just going to drop by the kitchens and be out of there as quick as possible. I promise." He drew an "x" over his heart with a finger, and swiftly moved aside, making a "lady's first" gesture.
How did I always let myself get dragged into these things?