First Impressions

A/N: Written on a whim, so don't expect much!

Disclaimer: I own nothing, nothing, nothing!

They say that first impressions last forever. That the initial contact with a person will always be burned into one's memory and will be forever bound to that person in one's mind. People can't help but flash back to the first time they met that someone.

That's what they say.

But what do they know, anyways? They are just an impersonal bunch, some vague group of a majority. Who are they to tell me what I think about first impressions? I can think for myself, thankyouverymuch.

Well, as for me, I will always remember my first impression of Lily.

Lily Evans. Lily Ann Evans. (I just love her name!)

The moment I first met her will, as they say, last forever in my mind.

We, a horde of puny little first-years, had just been Sorted and food had just materialized onto our golden plates.

And as I just sat there, when I should have been heaping that delectable food onto my plate. She was a bit further down the table than I would've liked. I sat there, watching her through the other students stuffing their faces. She must have felt my eyes on her. On her radiant flaming hair that reminded me of a Chinese Fireball dragon that I'd seen in picture books. On her cute little mouth as it melted into a lovely smile.

So she turned her pretty little head around to look back at me. Her startling green eyes burned curiously into mine, and her lips twisted into a quirky smile, teasing me, "Are you staring at me?"

Of course, I didn't freeze or do anything stupid. After all, I was James Potter.

So I flashed her what I knew to be a dashing grin. Then I forced my neck to turn my head to that Sirius Black bloke, who was jamming an incredible amount of food into his mouth. My eyes landed on some mouth-watering Yorkshire pudding, but they were longing to stray back to that curious little redhead.

The feast passed quickly, with nothing else happening that was really notable. I talked animatedly with Sirius about Quidditch through full mouths, which must have been revolting to any onlooker, now that I think of it. The Gryffindor Prefect rounded us lost little first-years up and led us to the Fat Lady after Dumbledore dismissed everyone.

We clambered in after the password was given ("dilly dally") and were engulfed the warm atmosphere of the Gryffindor common room.

Everyone by that time was exhausted from the trip (back) to Hogwarts, and most of the Gryffindors filed upstairs to collapse on their beds and drift into a world of dreams. Some hung around the fire, plopping down on cushiony couches and catching up.

I started to head to the stairs to the boys' dormitories. And that's when it happened.

She was walking by me with a bouncy step, arm linked through a brunette's (her new friend, I presumed).

"Hey!" she greeted me brightly, as if we knew each other. But I didn't even know her name then. She tossed me a dizzying smile radiating with something I couldn't quite put my finger on. It was almost an innocent joy, like one you get when you skip down an empty corridor whooping like a wild child, or when you blow a bubble bigger than your head with Drooble's Best Blowing Gum.

At that moment, my mind just became immobile and incapable of thought. I froze. Impossible, no? After all, I was James Potter! And James Potter just does not freeze. Well, I guess I stopped being James Potter for a second, because I just stood there, wearing an unusual look with a faint smile as she and her friend swept by me and up the stairs to the girls' dormitories.

I became infatuated.

Give me a break, right? Infatuated? At the age of eleven?

Well, let's consider the situation, shall we? I was a cocky little eleven-year-old boy. And when cocky little eleven-year-old boys are thrown bedazzling smiles from adorable little eleven-year-old redheads with shining green eyes, they really don't have a choice, now do they?

Back to my original point. (If one did exist.)

Alright, so maybe first impressions last forever. And maybe for the next five years, all I could think about was Evans. All because of that brush of an encounter with that teasing little redhead bursting with so much life. And maybe, for the innumerable times I looked at her from that point on, I relived that one genuine smile she had flashed at me that had made my head spin. It was that one smile, one true smile from Evans, before she started hating me for liking her.

But I didn't care. I was way too in over my head to care. Whenever she glared at me, scowled at me, snapped at me, yelled at me, cursed me, hexed me, slapped me, or did whatever else she does to show that I was an object of her loathing, my mind retreated back to a memory of a childish little girl tossing a starry smile at a bespectacled eleven-year-old boy. And I basked in the memory, hoping that one day, she will cast a smile at me like that again.

So maybe they, whoever "they" is, were right. Maybe I always thought of that smile every time I spotted her brilliant red hair. Maybe first impressions never leave us; maybe they were right after all.

And you know what? I'm kind of glad they were.


A/N: Yeek, I'm bad at endings. This one was definitely no exception. Review please, anything welcome! Please try to include (at least) one criticism if you do review.