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Author’s Notes: Er … A kind of extremely long one-shot. What can I say? x) Enjoy. Review!
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It was the first time she noticed the flecks of gold and green mixed into the chocolaty brown of his eyes.
She had been patrolling the halls alone that particular evening. Since there were reports (alleged ones, probably from Filch who relied on his precious cat for information) of misbehaving groups of students wreaking havoc in the halls, Lily thought it best to split up. James had protested this at first, as she assumed he would, but she firmly put her foot down and said they would cover more ground and quicker separate than together. Before he could give a rebuttal, she turned on her heel and started walking down the corridor. She pulled out her wand, holding it in her hand for careful measures.
She had been patrolling for the better part of an hour and, upon finding nothing, was beginning to feel tired and slightly bored. At least when – she stopped mid-thought. That was one thing she did not need to be thinking about. It was the subject of that pesky thought that only inhabited every other thought she possessed. In a tiff, Lily kicked the wall. She instantly regret this, a slightly throbbing pain shooting through her foot. She cursed in her head, grumbling as she stalked off, fists clenched. If Pott – no, she thought sternly. But her thought overrode her command; If Potter was here, I would not have just kicked a wall. She agreed with herself that that was true and was glad no one was around as her cheeks flushed a soft pink of embarrassment.
Almost instinctively, her hand tightened its grip around her wand as she heard a noise. “Who’s there?” she called out, portraying authority in her voice. There was no answer; she assumed, then, that she had misheard and slackened her fingers around her wand.
As she continued walking, Lily’s thoughts were, once more, replaced with –
“AUGH!” she squealed in pure frustration. This. Was. Not. Happening, she told herself as she ceased her stride to purify her thoughts. She leaned against the wall a moment, mostly hidden behind a suit of shining silver armor. It seemed odd to her that she thought more about him when not in his presence. A shallower depth of her mind wondered why she was even thinking about him at all. It was all quite silly, really. . . .
She had begun walking again, her steps slightly hurried. She was not paying attention to what she was doing, where she was going. She let her feet lead her to – wherever. Her mind, much to her displeasure, was also going to “wherever.” Lily Evans found herself wondering where James – Potter, she corrected viciously – was wandering.
Probably off snogging some girl in a broom closet, the self-proclaimed sensible part of her mind reasoned.
He’s never done that before, Lily. He’s probably doing his job, the mentally unstable portion of her brain countered.
Well, he’s never done that before, either. In fact, it’s far more likely he’s having himself a snog than bothering with his duties, Sensible Lily answered with the same contempt she felt towards Potter for the past six and a half years.
Unstable Lily pondered this. But he’s changed, she answered, don’t you think?
No. Sensible Lily’s answer was short, simple, and to the point.
There’s no reasoning with you! Unstable Lily cried. You just don’t want to admit that –
Whatever it was that Sensible Lily did not want to admit went unthought-of, for at that distinct moment in time, she found herself nearly face-to-face with the ground. She would have rather she was face-to-face with said ground, for the only other option was that she ran into someone. She didn’t move for a moment, eyes shut against the embarrassment of the situation. She hoped she wasn’t currently lying on top of a professor; that would be terrible. However, if it was a student then they were surely out of bed and breaking the rules at that. Perhaps, unwittingly, she had discovered a new way of getting students to –
“Oy, Evans, you’ve got extremely bony elbows that are currently crushing my ribs.”
Her heart sank. The herd of wild butterflies that lived inside her stomach as of late were running rampant, their delicate wings beating roughly and causing her belly to perform flip-flops. The only voice that she did not want to hear come from underneath her was –
“Evans?! You been Confunded or something? You must have, ‘cos this is really quite bizarre.”
She opened her eyes slowly, her face burning red in utter embarrassment. And that was when she first realized the gold and green flecks among the chocolate brown of James Potter’s eyes. Sensible Lily screamed inside her head, upsetting the herd of butterflies. Unstable Lily relished the feeling of warmth radiating from another person’s body, a specific person’s body who she had –
“Okay, now. You’re acting really, really strange, Evans,” he said, looking up at her, his brown – no – hazel eyes meeting hers. At this, the butterflies were simply out of control. They could no longer be contained, it would have been impossible to try and calm them. Her heart was beating to the tempo of the ravaging insects. Sensible Lily forced herself to try and say something, to try and move a muscle to raise herself from the pinned-down body of James Potter. Unstable Lily resisted, unable to form a word, unable to move. Unstable Lily felt as though she had been put into a Body-Bind curse and Sensible Lily was reaping the consequences.
“I – really now, Evans. Who, for the sake of Merlin’s left sock, messed with your mind? If I knew there was a charm to get you to act this way, I’d have used it long ago. Well … Fifth year, maybe. I don’t think it would be appropriate this year, given I’m Head Boy and you’re Head Girl. In fact, Evans, this is a very compromising situation we’re in right here. If that stupid cat of Flich’s comes, well – you can imagine, I’m sure.” He looked at her again, his brown – no, hazel! eyes reflecting her own.
They were nice eyes, James’s were. She always thought they were brown. Even Sensible Lily agreed to that consensus. In fact, it provided a lot of material for her long Reasons-Why-I-Hate-James-Potter rants. For example, Reason Number 7 was: Those stupid brown eyes of his that looked the color of a muddy Quidditch Pitch, clearly reflecting his only love in life. Then there was Reason Number 53: Once again, those stupid brown eyes that clearly reflect his shit-for-brains. Unstable Lily had come to reject Reason Number 53, finding it to be quite untrue. James Potter had anything but shit-for-brains. He was really quite smart, one of the top of their year. Sensible Lily found herself growing angry at his hazel eyes, the nice greens and gold swirled with the chocolaty brown.
“Hazel!” she cried out, vocalizing Sensible Lily’s anger. “Bloody hazel.” Her limbs had still yet to regain working status, and instead she took to punch him on the chest, hard. Oh dear, thought Unstable Lily. Quidditch does more to the body than calloused hands.
James, who apparently had no response to her sudden outburst, blinked slowly. He didn’t flinch when her hand, making a delicate, small fist, came down on his chest, but rather stared at her with the utmost confusion. “Er –,” was all he could manage.
Sensible Lily was dying inside. Hazel! She could hardly believe it. So much rested on those stupid brown eyes she thought he had. Now, they just had to go and be hazel! Surely, Sensible Lily figured, he must have gone and charmed them.
“Always?” she asked, eyebrows furrowed to mirror Sensible Lily’s anger. “Have they always been bloody hazel?”
“What?” he asked, genuinely confused. Before she could answer, he added, “Er – My arm is falling asleep. You’ve been leaning on it for about ten minutes now, Lily.”
Oh, bugger, thought Unstable Lily. He just had to resort to her name, didn’t he? This sent Sensible Lily into an uproar, the butterflies mimicking her despair as they attempted to tear down her stomach lining. She wondered if they’d transfigured themselves into hippogriffs. That’s what it felt like.
“Er – Lily, my arm. Really, now. I mean, as much as I enjoy this – and, heh, believe me, I do – I would appreciate it if my arm would stop its path to numbness.”
Again! Again, he had to go throwing around her name! Did he have to do that? He must know, Unstable Lily was thinking, the butterflies-turned-hippogriffs having some sort of civil war inside her stomach. She realized, now, why the butterflies were no longer such; the arm in aforementioned question lay bent near her waist, his fingers, unable to avoid it unless twisted in some crude manner, touching her side, almost the small of her back. She was finding this to be –
“Sorry, Lily, but I had no other choice,” he said, having interrupted her thought process by way of lifting her off the ground. He kept close by her, his hands nearly touching her arms, ready to steady her if she proved to be unstable.
Sensible Lily was about to force herself to pull away, but Unstable Lily resisted wholeheartedly. She overthrew the reign of Senses, her proclaimed instability proving to be more than just mental. As she wobbled slightly as she stood, she felt James’s hands now on her arms, lightly gripping the spots just above her elbows. She blinked, chancing to look at him.
The result were near murderous in her stomach. The hippogriffs were performing circus acts inside, twirling and flipping and flying all around the limited space. She swallowed hard, blinking again. The hazel eyes were now looking directly at her, meeting her stare. Sensible Lily tried to turn away, but Unstable Lily refused.
“Did you know you have hazel eyes?” Lily asked, rather stupidly, though the question was said in all seriousness.
It was James’s turn to blink, a few times in a row, before he spoke. “Yes. Had ‘em all my life, even.” He grinned that stupid, lopsided, arrogant grin of his that Lily had started finding to be less stupid and less arrogant (still lopsided, though) with each one made. It was almost completely across the line of stupid-and-arrogant and into the realm of, dare she think it, endearing.
“Oh.” It was all she could muster.
There was a silence that followed. She stared mostly at their feet, which were mere inches apart. His shoes were mucked up, probably from playing Quidditch as often as he did. They looked worn and on their last leg of life. Had they not been on his feet, she would have expected them to be incapable of wear. She was sure he was staring at her; she could feel his eyes on her, as though in possession of a sixth sense. Lily finally looked up, staring back at him.
The hippogriffs had turned back into butterflies. The fluttering feeling in her stomach was, once again, delicate and slightly more relaxed. She felt herself inhale deeply, holding her breath a moment before slowly exhaling. As close as she was standing, she was unable to avoid the scent he carried. It reminded her mostly of the outdoors; a crisp, woodsy type of smell. If one could smell like air, James Potter did. Blast, she thought, there’s another reason down the drain.
“Lily.…” His voice was tentative, cautious, perhaps, of breaking her out of her seemingly deep thoughts. “Are you sure you’re all right?” There was no audible answer, just an absentminded nod of her head. “Because, I mean – I did hear voices down this way. It’s why I came down here. I heard a scream and … something being attacked. I think.”
She blinked. “Oh, bugger.” At his look of confusion, she felt compelled to elaborate. “That … Was me.”
“Did someone try and hurt you, Lily? It sounded really violent and –”
Sensible Lily had gone from her brain. Her thoughts were no longer split in two. She was beginning to find it easier to answer his questions that, under the previous reign of Senses, she would have avoided at all costs. The new reign of Instability was ready to throw caution to the wind, or at least some of it.
“No. It was … Just me.”
James tilted his head ever-so-slightly. “Just you,” he repeated slowly. “Er – Lily? Can I ask why you were … screaming?”
She shrugged, appearing indifferent. She knew she was able to stand just find without his aid, now, but she did not make to move away. “I don’t know that you’ll like the answer, Potter.”
He grinned again, an eyebrow raised. “Evans,” he said coolly, “if you had any idea what I didn’t like, I’d have given up a long time ago.”
“Well,” she said, “I really don’t think you’re going to like this revelation I had.”
“Why’s that?” he asked, seemingly nonplussed. The grin had not disappeared; if anything, it grew. His eyes were looking directly into hers once more. She was finding hazel to be an endearing color, if colors could be such.
“I figured out why I hate you as much as I do, Potter.” She smiled, appearing pleased with herself. She was returning his stare. The butterflies had calmed down significantly, their only damage that of a delicate flutter that kept her feeling anxious. She hoped she didn’t look it.
“Why’s that, Evans?”
“Um,” she said in mock-thought, cocking her head to the side and looking up for a moment. Sensible Lily was butting in again, much to Unstable Lily’s displeasure. The voice inside her head was screaming at her to shut up, to not break the promise she made to herself years back. Don’t. Do. It. She looked back at him, meeting his eyes. Sensible Lily was instantly shut up. “Those bloody eyes of yours.”
He let out a laugh, albeit unintentional. “My eyes? You hate me as much as you do because of my eyes, Evans?”
“Yes. Because, you see. They’re not brown.”
“Sorry, Evans. That’s something you’ll have to take up with my parents.”
She sighed. “You’re not letting me finish, Potter.” She took in another deep breath, once more being flooded by the smell of crisp, Autumn air. The butterflies in her stomach had a moment of rampage. “You see,” she began slowly, almost tentatively. “Your eyes were supposed to be stupid, mucky brown. Like a muddy Quidditch pitch. For some time they also represented your shit-for-brains that –”
“Hey!” he protested. “I do not have shit-for-brains –”
“– I realized was false because you’re really quite smart when you want to be.” She paused, looking at him, at his not-brown eyes. “But they’re hazel.”
“So we’ve established.”
Inwardly, she groaned. Why was she rambling on nonsensically? Lily looked down at his hands, which were still holding onto her elbows. She was sure that he realized she had gained full stability, but just as she did, remained as he was.
“James.”
“Eva – what?”
“The reason I hate you is because you’ve made it near-impossible to abhor you.” At his look of shock, she nodded solemnly. “You’re taking it a lot better than I did. When I found this out, I kicked a wall and screamed.” He still wasn’t saying anything. Her heart was beating fast, the butterflies seemed to have morphed into Hungarian Horntails, their tails thrashing wildly, causing her heart to nearly leap out her throat. She swallowed hard, for the second time. “You’re – er – not saying anything. Oh! I mean – don’t feel obligated to say something. If you’ve – er – changed your mind or something, I’d understand and it’s quite all right.” She could feel her cheeks heating up to a vibrant red, probably a near match to her hair. “In fact, it’s getting quite late and I’ll just be going –”
He certainly did not say anything. Instead, James Potter eliminated the already meager gap by pulling her closer. In such close vicinity, it did not require a deep inhale to take in the scent he carried. All she could smell was the outdoorsy, airy scent that was James. Before she could clear her thoughts, his mouth lightly covered hers in a soft kiss that promptly sent tingles through her body. The dragons within her stomach tickled with an anxious purr, her eyes shut against the moment.
It was he who broke the kiss, bringing a hand up to her face, his fingers gently brushing back a strand of her hair. They still stood close, their noses mere centimeters apart. She opened her eyes again, looking into his. They remained still for a moment, her heart beating wildly against her chest.
“We ought to get going back to the Common Room,” he breathed but neither moved initially, despite her faint nod of agreement. He took her hand in his, starting to lead her in direction of the Gryffindor Common Room; she followed alongside him, hand-in-hand, their shoulders nearly touching.
“Lily?” he asked.
“Yeah?”
“Will you go out with me?”
A small smile crossed her lips. “Yes, but only because you’ve become impossible to hate.”
He looked down at her and she up at him, their eyes meeting. He grinned, looking back straight ahead and giving her hand a light squeeze. “I’ll hold you to that.”
“That’s all right. I don’t mind.”
It was the first time she noticed the flecks of gold and green mixed into the chocolaty brown of his eyes that aided in the realization he wasn’t all that bad.
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