Fancying Evans

Disclaimer: I don't own anything or anyone.

Last month, I, James Potter, started fancying Lily Evans.

It was quite pathetic, really. Not in the sense that Evans was not worth fancying (Horrors that you should conceive the thought!), but rather my behavior was quite pathetic.

At fourteen years of age, who knows what's going on inside a bloke's head?

Not me.

Do not get any wrong ideas. Yes, I am a proud member of the male sex, thank you very much.

She was most certainly not the first girl I ever was attracted to, but she was, in my humble opinion, the first real object of my fancy. I tried to keep it from Sirius, knowing he would never stop the teasing.

I was fourteen, young, inexperienced in the field of pursuing girls, and hence I was shy about it.

Yeah, me, James Potter, shy. It even looks weird—my name and the word "shy" in the same sentence.

I did my best not to look at her at all during lessons, because I knew my mates would notice. I would turn my head the other way if I caught a glimpse of that brilliant fiery hair, only to let my eyes wander back. She was just so magnetic, something about her just pulled me in. I tried to casually slide my gaze over her in the Great Hall during meals and in the common room during the evening, quietly admiring her from afar.

I felt weird when my mates, or anyone else for that matter, mentioned her in passing. ("Oh, Evans probably got the best marks on that test. As usual.") I always became tongue-tied, and I just poked at my food or leafed through my Charms book until the subject changed. I hoped it wasn't too obvious that I never threw in a comment. At least I wasn't spouting sappy quotes about how utterly pretty she was, or how brilliantly green her eyes shined, or how clever and witty and headstrong and…

At least I never said any of that.

When I heard her answer questions in class, I doodled randomly on my notes. I didn't want to be accused of staring at her, even though the natural reaction of a classmate is to look at the speaker. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to look away.

Going against all signs of fancying someone is a surefire way to get your mates to accuse you of fancying that someone, of course. Sirius had it figured out within a week, and chose to embarrass me easily by mentioning it to me in a casual way in our dormitory one night.

"Hey James?"


"You know that girl, Evans?"

I felt my heart beat just a bit louder at her surname. Play it cool. "Y—yeah." I paused and turned a page in my Potions book. "What about her?"

"You fancy her?"

His voice was lazy, but I could see that sloppy grin on his face in my mind's eye. He knows.

He knows, he knows, he knows!

Oh, Merlin.


Look at him. People don't think you're lying when you look in their eyes.

Yeah, right. This is Sirius we're talking about here.

"You fancy Evans?" Peter asked incredulously. His big blue eyes were wide with astonishment. And I saw Remus' lips twitch, though his eyes were firmly fixed on his Arithmancy homework.

This was not funny!

"Out with it, then," Sirius prodded.

"What?" I asked, my voice a bit higher than normal. I was hoping against hope that they would just somehow change the subject. Or maybe I could perform a Memory Charm on all three. At the same time. Subtly.


My wand's on the other end of the bed. Retrieving it would earn suspicious glances.

"Come to think of it," Peter joined in. "You have been acting funny all week, especially in Potions."

I sat only one row behind her in Potions. It was difficult trying to not look at her.

"Oh, come off it," Remus chuckled. "If he doesn't want to admit he fancies Lily, he's not going to."

Thank you, Remus!

"That's right," I declared automatically.

Remus grinned a bit wider, and Sirius started laughing into his pillow.

I realized the implications of my last two words. I was tricked!

I just admitted it. I might have just as well said, "Yes, I fancy Lily Evans like no tomorrow."


I hoped Remus failed that Arithmancy homework.


A/N: Alright, that was fun. I love writing James. He's such a multi-dimensional character. In so many wonderful stories, he's portrayed in so many ways. This was meant to be short, like a snapshot of James. Not a fully painted portrait, more like a quick pencil sketch—a doodle. Hope you liked it. Review and give me suggestions!