James sipped his tea in the tiny café he'd been frequenting since June, dividing his glances between the day's newspaper and the red haired girl behind the counter. She was pretty, that one, and the main reason he'd been returning here every week or so. It certainly wasn't because of the weak tea or the less-than-stellar scones.
His initial intentions had been to go up to her after a few trips to the café and see if she'd perhaps fancy going out for a bite to eat. Somehow though, his courting had become something more along the lines of stalking the poor thing at work. He really should buck up the courage to ask her out; he was James fucking Potter after all, most wanted man at Hogwarts. So why was approaching this Muggle girl so difficult?
James hadn't even noticed he'd been staring at her until she smiled sweetly over the pastry case and gave a little wave. He nearly choked on his tea when he realized what a creep he must seem like—ogling her from the corner seat in an almost empty café. He should leave straight away before he made an even bigger arse of himself.
The girl—he really didn't know her name and had just been referring to her as 'that gorgeous red-head who waitresses on Tuesday and Thursday' all this time—started walking towards him before he was even out of his seat. Merlin's balls, she was probably coming to tell him she'd be notifying Muggle Law Enforcement about his creepy behavior, and then he'd be dragged into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for Muggle stalking—a charge that was not taken lightly in the courts.
The gorgeous red-head stopped in front of the seat opposite him, looking far more chipper than what he expected in this sort of situation. When she grinned at him, he became thoroughly confused, so much so that his jaw dropped a bit.
"You're one of our regulars, aren't you? Cup of tea and a raisin scone, right?"
Bloody hell. She'd memorized his order? She'd noticed him to begin with? James wasn't sure which was more surprising or which made him feel inexplicably in love with her.
He managed to strangle a, "Yes", from his throat.
There was that brilliant smile of hers again. "Do you have a name? I hope you don't mind me asking. It's just that I'd really like to stop referring to you as 'that fit bloke who orders the tea and raisin scone'."
Fit bloke? Fit bloke? She thought he was fit? So he wasn't going to Azkaban for Muggle stalking after all?
"Ah, sorry, guess that was a bit too forward of me," she said, looking a little defeated in the absence of his answer.
As she turned, James jumped up and took her gently by the wrist. "It's James…James Potter."
"Lily Evans," she said, biting her bottom lip and looking thoroughly pleased with herself. "I get off at 6."