Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognise, ok?
Reviews are definitely welcomed! Enjoy xx
After the feast, we all leave the Hall as a big group: Frank and Alice holding hands, Sirius teasing Peter and James whistling as he strolls down to the entrance of the Head's Common Room. I tap my wand on the door, and it swings open, the others peering over my shoulders . James, however, picks me up, bridal-style, and carries me across the step leading into the room, as I squeal in surprise. He sets me on the ground gently and I huff playfully, giggling.
"Why does nobody think I can walk?"
Sirius barks with laughter, and James smirks.
"It is tradition that a husband carry a wife over the threshold of their new home, and seeing as you don't have a husband, I thought I should do the honours." He winks again, and I smile at Alice's stunned face.
Then I turn around.
The room is beautiful.
There's a love seat and a big squishy armchair in front of a crackling fire, and there's my favourite rug from the dormitory, laying in front of the fire. My favourite throw is laid out on the love seat, and there's a tartan blanket, faded with age, folded neatly on the armchair.
Stairs on either side of the room lead out of sight, and Alice and I practically fly up the stairs to my bedroom. There's a huge double bed, covered with my floral quilt from home, and all of my clothes are hanging up in my wardrobe. A massive en-suite bathroom next door has a shower and a bath, but as there are grey towels in there as well, I'm guessing that I will have to share with James.
I don't care.
This is perfect.
I run down the stairs, taking them two at a time, where James is slouched on the love seat. I perch on the end, and he hands me my blanket, smiling. I wave at Alice as she leaves with Frank, and stick my tongue out at Sirius who leaves shortly after, complaining about James being Head Boy and 'not him, the family outcast'.
I burrow into my blanket, staring into the depths of the fire.
"Some common room, huh, Lily?"
"It's amazing..."
I gaze up at the mantelpiece above the fire, where there is a picture of 2 people, laughing. Summoning it quickly with a flick of my wand, I smile at the sight of me and James laughing in the snow. He's flicking slush at me, and I think I'm threatening to castrate him again, but we are obviously joking around, with wide grins on both of our faces.
I'm wearing my grey pea coat and green hat, but I have a too long Gryffindor scarf wrapped around my neck. It's James'.
He's wearing my green scarf, tied around his waist like a belt.
We look like friends.
We look like we could be more.
Nudging him with my shoulder, I pass him the picture. "Do you remember that?"
"Yeah..." he mutters, "Fifth year, wasn't it?"
"Yep. At Christmas. Neither of us went home, remember? Marlene took a picture of us while we were arguing."
"We don't look like we're arguing." he ponders, a thoughtful smile curving on his lips.
"No." I agree, "No we don't."
"You look beautiful there, see? You don't look beautiful when you're mad, you look hot." Why am I blushing?!
"There's a system for describing girls using different adjectives?"
"Yep. Sirius and I developed it."
"Yeah- wait...you said I looked beautiful?"
" I suppose..." He's grinning sheepishly, obviously waiting for the explosion.
"Thanks, James." I lean forward and kiss him on the cheek.
Tingles erupt across my lips, and I'm pretty sure that I'm the same colour as my hair. My heart is thumping wildly, and I practically sprint up the stairs.
I stop at the landing as I hear James calling after me:
"Lily? Are you okay?"
"Uh-huh. Goodnight!"
"Sweet dreams, then."
Flinging the door open, I lay down on my bed, looking up at the top of my four-poster bed, desperately trying to calm myself down.
You don't like him, Lily, and even if you did you couldn't date him, because of the truce.
I know that I should feel relieved and happy; no more annoying Potter asking you out.
Yet I don't.
As I slip off my robes and climb into my pyjamas, I find myself analysing our conversation!
If he said "You look beautiful there.", then does that mean that he thinks I looked beautiful, past tense, but don't now? Or does he think that I look beautiful when we're not arguing? Why would he say that in the first place? Why am I analysing our conversation? Is that a sign that I like him?
I picture him in my mind: scruffy hair, hazel eyes behind those glasses, chiselled face. He's not perfect, like Diggory. Then, I'm not perfect. Neither is James. Do I want perfection?
I don't think so.
He's being sweet, and kind and if I'm not mistaken, flirty, but he has kept to the terms of the truce. Normally, he would have asked me out at the feast, but he didn't, and we haven't fought, or come near to fighting at all.
He got mad at Sirius because his friend didn't ensure my safety, and he looked worried when he saw the small cut on my cheek. He only brought Sirius in the common room because I let Alice in, and carried me across the entrance of the common room to make me laugh.
He handed me my blanket, and sat on the love seat and called me beautiful.
Is that what a potential boyfriend would do? Or what a good friend would do?
Boys are so confusing.
Yet they all manage to make me flustered.
Go raibh maith agat, (May you have goodness)
She-who-loves-fanfiction xx
