Just the first part to a short story I started writing ages ago and decided to do a bit more on. It was written over quite a long period of time, so sorry if it doesn't all fit together properly.

Alas, 'tis all J.K. Rowling's.

A little bit of something (part 1 of 2)

He has black hair and brown eyes and glasses and he is tall and he is skinny and he has a smile that crinkles up his eyes and his hair sticks up in all directions and I like him very much.

I especially like his hair. It has provided me with many a conversation starter, and without it's messiness we might never have been on proper speaking terms, and so I am grateful for it. His smile was also a feature I would have taken a photo of and hung on my wall next to my bed, but as I shared a room with four other girls, and as he didn't know I was so fond of his smile, sadly I did not do this. It may also have appeared a little strange, me asking him if I could take a photo of his mouth.

However, his hair is still my favourite thing, because his mouth never gave me anything to talk about to him. Once, I think I did tell him that his teeth were looking quite sparkly and white, and he grinned a toothy grin and told me he used a special toothpaste.

But even so.

The first time we met we were eleven years old. Of course back then I didn't really care about his hair or his teeth, I didn't care about him at all because I was sure I was going to fall in the lake and drown and not even make it to Hogwarts. I hate boats with a passion. Images of sharks, scenes from Jaws popping into my head…I seem to remember him laughing at me when we stepped out of the little wooden evil boat, as my face had turned remarkably green.

I have forgiven him for this, of course. One cannot can not hold grudges.

Then once I had overcome the greenness and was feeling slightly less dizzy I felt sick all over again because what if the hat didn't pick me? What if, instead of calling out a house name he called out 'freak!'? It was possible. The professor didn't mention that it could happen but I was sure that it would, and that everyone would laugh at me, and I would turn green all over again.

Luckily it did shout a house name. It took a moment for it to sink in, and when it did relief flooded through me and I happily bounced off to the Gryffindor table, my face not even remotely greenish.

It wasn't until our fifth year that a great affection for his hair came over me. I was sitting in History of Magic, bored out of my mind as usual, wishing that someone would do something and distract Professor Binns before I started snoozing. He was in front of me, next to Sirius Black I think. Sirius was asleep, snoring softly with his head on his arms, and he was leaning back on his chair, rocking backwards and forwards slowly.

His black hair was scruffy as usual and I wondered for a little while if he ever did bother to brush it. Not that I minded of course, there was something about that hair that I liked. I found the kinks in it funny and when I thought about it the way a long strand would always fall into his eyes was really rather adorable.

I was transfixed with his hair and for most of that lesson I think I must have sat staring at it, mesmerised. I was knocked out of my trance when the chair suddenly gave way and he went crashing to the ground in a heap with a loud bang, the rest of the class distracted, half of them laughing at him. Sirius awoke with a snort, and Professor Binns, who had been droning on and on and on and on about goblins, glanced up mid sentence.

'What is going on?' Binns said, frowning. 'Get up off the floor, Mr- er-'

'Potter,' he supplied, untangling himself from the broken chair.

'Yes, get back to your seat at once.'

He looked down at the pieces of wood lying on the ground. 'Professor,' he said, interrupting another long account. 'I'm afraid my chair isn't quite sittable at the moment.'

I leant over the edge of my table to have a look at the damage. 'Reparo,' I said, pulling out my wand and flicking it. The chair leapt back into its original form.

'Why thankyou,' he said to me, and pulling out his chair and sitting down again.

'Well done James,' Sirius snickered. 'That was very clever of you.'

James ignored Sirius, and went back to swinging on his chair, while I went back to staring at the back of his head until it was time for lunch.

We weren't ever really very close, even though we were in the same house. He had his friends and I had mine and we saw each other and exchanged hellos in the morning, but that was it. Unfortunately. Sometimes we'd sit next to each other at mealtime and we might even have a little bit of a conversation, and while I would always remember exactly what we talked about for the rest of the day, I doubt that he took such interest in our brief meetings.

It was oddly like a habit. Once we entered the classroom, I would look to see where he was sitting. In the common room I would always check what he was doing, and sometimes I would watch he and his friends play chess. Occasionally I would be asked to join in, though I always lost.

Whenever I talked to him, I accidentally brought up the subject of his hair.

I didn't mean to. It just slipped out before I could stop it. I really had to get over the hair thing, because otherwise he might think all I could talk about was hair, that I was some kind of hair freak who couldn't come up with an intelligent conversation. We would be doomed to speak about hair for the rest of our lives.

'Good morning,' a voice behind me said cheerfully. Cheerfulness is a terrible, terrible thing in the morning, as is the phrase 'good morning.' The morning is never, ever good and one should learn that before one is punched in the nose for being too cheerful.

I blinked and muttered something unintelligible.

'Not a morning person?'

I shrugged, and turned around to see who dared to talk to me at 6:30am on a Saturday morning. I didn't even know why I was up at that time, it was so absurd, but I was and this person was annoying me and if they weren't careful they might end up with cereal down their front.

It was James Potter. He sat down next to me, grabbed a banana, peeled it, and started gobbling it down. I continued eating my cereal, careful not to dribble milk down my chin.

'Why are you up?' He asked me, finished with the banana. He had eaten it awfully quickly.

I thought for a little while about why I was up. Perhaps I could make up some sort of assignment. Preferably a transfiguration assignment, he was excellent at transfiguration. Or Charms. I could help him with his Charms, if he needed it.

Sadly my brain does not work fast in an emergency. I said something like 'couldn't sleep,' with a few grumbles added in, and he nodded as though it was a perfectly legible excuse. Which I suppose it was, you don't really need an excuse to be up early in the morning unless you need an alibi for a murder.

But there hadn't been a murder.


My brain clicked into action after a few sips of orange juice. 'Why are you awake at this ungodly hour?'

'It's not that bad,' he said with frightening exuberance. 'But I've got Quidditch practise.'

I stared at him for a moment and I really do hope no milk slipped out of my open mouth. 'Why on earth would anyone organise a training? Now. At this time. Are they insane?'

'Well, I'm the captain, so I organised it.'

'Ah. So you are insane.' I can be incredibly stupid when my mouth runs away from my brain. I suspect that my brain was completely disconnected from all other parts of my body when I said this.

He smiled. 'Of course. Yikes.' He glanced at his watch. 'I've got to go, if I'm late they'll give me hell.'

'Not surprisingly.'

He left me there with my cereal.

She has red hair and green green green eyes that sparkle and she is short and she has dimples and her shoes are tiny and when she runs she reminds me of a duck and she is clever and she is funny and I like her lot and lots.

Well I sort of like her. If I had to choose out of any girl I'd pick her. I guess. Not that I've thought about it or anything. Because I haven't. And I won't.

There are lots of very pretty girls out there and lots are maybe even prettier than she is, but she is the only one who concentrates while eating her breakfast. Her forehead creases and she stares at the bowl and spoon quite hard, but she still spills a little down her chin. No one else does that except her.

She's always been one of those cute sort of people. The kind that maybe you don't notice straight away but when you do you can't stop watching them, because of the way they smile and when they turn their head just slightly to the left their nose tilts up a little and reminds you of a munchkin.

For six years I can't say that I exactly noticed all this. I had other business on my mind. I was quite content harassing Snape and playing Quidditch and running races in the secret passages when things got awfully boring. Sirius always won, no matter what. Sometimes because he was fast and sometimes because he had his wand handy. Now that I think about, why we ran races when the outcome was obvious I do not know.

And then when races in the passages became boring (for we never tired of harassing Snape) we worked on the Marauders Map, and spent our weeks sneaking off to Hogsmeade and planning our monthly adventures. When we did think of girls, it was mainly of the Ravenclaws with long dark hair who were smart and snappy, or the sweet Hufflepuffs with lovely smiles- they were extremely generous chocolate givers- or the Gryffindors who were loud and funny, and liked to yell at Sirius.

The first time I remember meeting her was in the boats on the way to the castle. She gripped the edges awfully hard and bit her lip for the entire ride. I suppose that Sirius and I rocking the boat didn't really help matters all that much. It resulted in shrieks from her, which made us rock harder, delighted that we had such a power in ourselves. When she turned a dark shade of green [I had no idea it was possible for a human to look so similar to a leaf] we stopped, feeling perhaps a little bit sorry for her. We also did not want to be thrown up on, but in our excitement we quickly forgot her and turned our thoughts instead to the castle we were approaching and it's possibilities.

Sirius did laugh at her when we climbed out of the boats, because she wobbled dangerously, swaying to and fro, and, as Sirius said between his giggles [accurately], she looked a little like someone who had drunk a few too many glasses of wine. Apart from the greenish tinge on her cheeks.

Sirius was the first first-year to be announced as a Gryffindor. He ran over to the Gryffindor table awfully quickly- so quickly that he tripped and fell and landed on the ground, causing the entire student population to laugh and giggle and point at the first year who couldn't even make it to his house table. But such a set-back didn't concern him. He leapt up, bowed, and hopped over to an empty seat, his grin wide, spread across his face from ear to ear. Once seated his looked back at the rest of us first-years, still standing in a line. He gave me the thumbs up sign, pointed at his watch and sighed. Having a last name like Potter is terribly frustrating at times. Especially when in front of you is the hat that will decide whether or not you will be placed with your best friend or your worst enemy, and you have to wait until they get to the letter P before you know the answer.

She fared a little better than I did, and, judging by her colour [or lack thereof], this was lucky. Professor McGonagall called her name sternly, but maybe her eyes softened just a little bit when she saw Lily walk slowly over to the hat. Her knees were shaking and her hands were positively trembling.

The hat called Gryffindor after a short moment and when she pulled the hat back off her head, she was smiling. Her cheeks were pink instead of deathly white [or green, for that matter] and while her long hair stuck up a little at the top, she walked quickly over to the Gryffindor table and didn't shake at all.

And then a little while later I skipped over to my seat at the table. Skipping wasn't exactly how I myself would have decided to do it, but Sirius and I had a bet on and one cannot back out of such a bet.

Sirius talked non-stop for the entire meal, his mouth full for half of it.

That is, actually, all I can remember about it. I can't even remember anything much about her during the next few years, except that she was clever, and she was always teasing me about my messy hair. If she had a tangle like mine she wouldn't tease anyone about their hair.

Then, one morning in December I woke up early and cheerful- I'd called a Quidditch practise, and while the rest of the team may not quite have agreed with my theory that the brain is at it's best right after sunrise, they reluctantly said they would come.

I bounced into the Great Hall and sat next to the only person seated at the Gryffindor table.

'Good morning,' I said, for it was indeed a lovely December day, and the sun was beginning to creep up sunnily. The sun always does look sunny, for obvious reasons I shall not go into at present.

She turned and scowled at me. Dark purple rings circled her green eyes and her face was a pasty white colour- she looked as though she'd been up all night and was not in the least bit happy about it.

'Not a morning person?' I asked, somewhat unnecessarily.

She shrugged.

Taking note of the fact not to disturb Lily Evans at this hour again, I nevertheless continued chatting away, while she carefully spooned cereal into her mouth. I had never seen someone take so much time in getting the spoon from the bowl to the mouth. Watching her curiously, I peeled a banana and ate it, forgetting for the moment that I didn't like bananas.

'Why are you up?' I asked her, unable to think of anything more interesting to say, and suspecting she was incapable of being able to think further than that anyway.

She blinked, as though she herself had not thought of this either, and was silent for a few moments, pondering this. I hadn't really expected this to be such a difficult question, but then, perhaps she was just the sort of person who liked to answer each and every question with the honest truth, and a long tale of the honest truth at that.

I was just wondering if she would have answered me by the time I had to leave, or if I'd have to cut this charming little conversation short, when she mumbled 'couldn't sleep.'

I nodded, somewhat relieved she hadn't recounted a tale of insomnia.

'Why are you awake at this ungodly hour?' She asked me suddenly.

I grinned. 'It's not that bad…but I've got Quidditch practise.' Oh, the delights of flying through the air on a crisp morning, the wind in your face- a perfect way to start the day.

Her green eyes stared at me with disbelief, her face framed by a mess of red hair. Her mouth was open, and she frowned, thinking this over (it was apparent she could not say anything until she had thought it over properly), and a small trickle of milk dribbled out of her mouth and down her chin. She didn't notice.

'Why on earth would anyone organise a training? Now. At this time. Are they insane?' She honestly seemed to be distressed by this news.

'Well, I'm the captain, so I organised it,' I said, leaning back on my chair cheerfully, waiting for her reaction. I had planned on being at training early to warm up for awhile, but I was enjoying my little chat.

'Ah. So you are insane,' she said immediately. Her green eyes widened after saying this, and she gave a little groan and hurriedly ate some more cereal.

'Of course,' I answered, amused at the spectacle of her shoving cornflakes into her mouth at the rate of- um- something that eats cereal very fast. Glancing down I noticed the time on my watch- I'd called the training for 6:40 and it was already 6:38. 'Yikes.' I said, standing up, 'I've got to go, if I'm late they'll give me hell.' More than hell. They'd rebel against me, groan for half an hour, and then fall asleep on the Quidditch pitch.

'Not surprisingly,' she said, yawning.

I walked off quickly, leaving her there with her cereal.

Outside the sun had not yet risen fully, dew still sparkled on the grass and the sky was a dull blue colour. I breathed in the air contentedly, and mounted my broom.

I had only flown to the other end of the Quidditch pitch when I heard a loud yell coming from near the change-room entrance.

'Oi! Potter!'

I turned my broom around and reluctantly flew to where Rebecca, a Gryffindor chaser, stood with her hands planted on her hips, her eyes stormy and dark.

'You're late,' she accused me.

'I am not!' I protested. 'It's 6:40 on the dot, you see?'

'Lemme see that.' She tugged my wrist towards her and read the time shown on my watch, disappointment creeping into her features. 'Damn. We were so looking forward to telling you off about that.'

'Foiled again. Where's everyone else?' I peered behind Rebecca, but the change-rooms were completely devoid of any other living thing. Except perhaps the mould growing on the shower floors.

'Oh…' she looked around sheepishly. 'At breakfast…'

'Don't people generally have breakfast before they're meant to be at Quidditch practise?' I asked her easily, leaning against my broomstick.

She gave an exaggerated sigh. 'It was a sort of "ha-ha, James isn't here and he's allowed to sit chatting to girls over breakfast when he's meant to be here, so we shall go do that too," joke kind of thing.'

'You've all gone to talk to Lily Evans?'

'No. Just to eat breakfast. Though they might talk to her. I don't know. I was waiting for you to show up.'

I rolled my eyes. 'I'll go get them. You stay here in case some Slytherins try to invade the pitch or something…I think we'll have an extra long training session this morning,' I added with a smile, reflecting upon this.

Rebecca groaned loudly. 'Nooo! I mean, not that we don't like training- of course we do- but it's so early and we're tired…and anyway, it's all Matthew's fault. His watch is fast.'

Shrugging, I turned away to collect everyone else, deciding that perhaps it would just be easier to have training later.

James had only been gone a few minutes when five more Gryffindors entered, all of them looking to be half asleep but somewhat pleased with themselves.

I frowned. It looked like the main part of the Quidditch team, minus James and someone else. Didn't Quidditch training usually consist of the team training?

I had been puzzling over this while they seated themselves- some eating a hearty breakfast, others conjuring pillows and snoozing on the table, and I'd come to the conclusion that it must have been cancelled (they'd thrown a fit at this absurdity and insisted upon being allowed to eat a proper breakfast?) when James came back in.

He headed towards the others at the table and I hoped he wouldn't notice me. I just could not take another few minutes with him; my heart would collapse with the strain. He flashed a grin at me as he passed me by, I almost fainted, and then (when I'd recovered) I listened curiously to what was happening- it was early, the better part of my brain was still snoozing, what else was there to do?

He sidled up to his team, pulled out a chair and sat down. They watched him, but didn't say a word, waiting expectantly.

'Having a nice breakfast then?' He asked amiably.

They appeared to be puzzled. Matthew Hill, whose head had previously been resting comfortably on a fluffy yellow pillow, sat up and said 'oh. Yes, thankyou.'

'You're quite welcome.'

The table was silent, and everyone (everyone who was not James) exchanged puzzled glances. Lisa George nibbled a piece of toast hesitantly while they waited for James to speak again.

'Matthew,' he continued. 'Did you know that your watch is fast?'

Matthew looked at his watch. 'It is?'

'Yes. It is.'

'Oh.' The team looked at one another, and then Lisa spoke up, her voice falsely cheerful.

'Well then! It would be time for training, wouldn't it?'

'What a marvellous idea!' James said with a grin. 'I myself hadn't though of such a thing, but now you suggest it… come on, Rebecca's waiting for us outside.' He stood up and marched off, saluting me as he passed my seat. I saluted back faintly, and the Quidditch team followed him, grumbling, and pulling faces behind his back.

We were half way through the Quidditch practise, working on strategies, when a bludger whacked me in the head.

I can't say I honestly remember what happened afterwards. I was, obviously, concussed, and when one is concussed one tends to be somewhat out of it. I was certainly out of it. According to Rebecca, I fell off my broom and was unconscious for awhile (a time during which Lisa and Matthew ran to get the nurse) and then I sat up and mumbled something about bananas.

I do, however, remember waking up in the hospital wing. I had one of the worst headaches I'd ever encountered, my whole head was throbbing consistently, and the candles lighting up the darkening hospital wing were the most awfully bright things I had ever seen in my life, flickering far too chirpily for my liking.

I tried to glare at the candles, but it hurt my forehead too much, so I settled for closing my eyes and thinking gloomy thoughts.

This could have lasted for hours, had I not been interrupted by Sirius and Remus and Peter, who came to visit me after they'd eaten their dinner- Sirius said they had come up earlier in the day but I'd been fast asleep, snoring peacefully.

This is a lie, naturally. I don't snore.

I had been coming up with ways to kill Tobias, the Beater responsible for my injury, when I heard a shout of laughter.

'Prongs!' Came the gleeful yell. I winced, as a sharp pain hit me between the eyes.

'Could you…quiet down…a little?' I said with some effort, struggling to open my eyes.

Next to my bed stood Sirius, whose face was lit up with a grin, Remus, who was watching me sympathetically, and Peter, whose small face was filled with pity for me.

Two decent friends at least.

'How did you miss that bludger coming at you?' Sirius said, plonking himself down. 'I asked Bec and she said Toby yelled out and everything.'

I shrugged.

'You must have been quite out of it, my lad.'

I scowled at Sirius. 'However much I would like to discuss that, my head is quite sore right now. Funnily enough.'

'It's no wonder,' Sirius ploughed on. 'You've got a huge lump the size of a potato right on your forehead. Did you know?'

'I suspected as much,' I said dismally. 'It would explain the pain.'

'Poor James,' said Peter, leaning on the covers of my bed, his head in his hands. 'Does it hurt very much?'

'Yes, it does.' I answered in my most forlorn voice. Peter made an appropriately sympathetic noise.

Remus was about to say something, when another figure entered the room quietly.

I don't really know what possessed me to visit him in the hospital wing. When leaving the common room I told myself firmly that I was going to the library to borrow some books about Transfiguration. Yet somehow, I found myself standing outside the hospital wing with the notion of asking James for help with the assignment Professor McGonagall had given us the week before.

I did need help on it, and I had been planning to ask someone for this help. The only change in my plan was that I was now going to ask James, and in doing so, I was bringing him some grapes.

I hoped he would like the grapes. They were of the green, seedless sort, which most people did tend to like, but it would be awful if James was one of the few people who didn't.

Several minutes after reaching the entrance to the hospital wing, I was still standing outside the door, completely motionless. A few people had passed me on their way to somewhere, and I'd received many strange looks, but still I couldn't quite work up the courage to actually move.

After sampling some grapes for myself, just to make sure they hadn't been poisoned by anyone and were completely edible, I forced myself to open the door and step inside.

Four heads turned to look at me, and I stood there, silently, holding my transfiguration book in one hand and a bunch of green grapes in the other.

'Hello,' I said for want of anything else to say. What else was there to say? Hello, these grapes are for you? Hello, I didn't mean to come here but I think you're really lovely so I decided to bring you some grapes to make you feel better? Hello, I like grapes so I thought you might?

'Good evening Madam,' answered Sirius, interrupting my miserable tirade on grapes.

'Evening. Um.'

I peeked a glance at James. His eyes were closed and there was a huge bruise forming on his forehead. I winced.

'Yes, it does look quite painful, doesn't it?' Sirius said, indicating to James' head.

I nodded.

'He got hit by a bludger,' Peter informed me.


Remus was the first one who noticed the grapes in my hand. He glanced down at them, looked at me, looked at my book, but didn't say anything. I thanked God that the only observant boy present happened to be a darling. Unfortunately for me, Sirius was also quite a curious person.

'Miss Evans, are you feeling ill?' He inquired.

'Oh…no,' I said.

He seemed pleased by this answer. 'Have you come to visit someone then?'

'No,' I said quickly.

'You just thought you would, I don't know, come and have a look at the scenery in here. It is quite nice, isn't it?'

I nodded enthusiastically. Sirius continued. 'And you though you might bring some grapes to make it a more cheery place, didn't you? How kind!'

'Ooh, grapes!' Peter exclaimed. 'Can I have some?'

I handed him the grapes wordlessly, while Sirius grinned, his dark eyes wicked. 'James, d'you know, I think Miss Evans has come to visit you!'

Peter stopped popping grapes into his mouth and gazed from me to James. A smile formed on his mouth and he giggled. Remus gave him a stern look, and he quieted himself, returning to the grapes. Remus smiled at me, and then spoke to Sirius in a low voice. 'Did you hear Snape got a detention tonight?'

Sirius stopped smirking at me and turned his attention to Remus. 'Really?'

'Oh, yes…I was thinking…you remember what we were talking about last night?'

'No- oh! Yes! Come, come, Peter, leave some grapes for James. Let us be off.'

Peter placed what was left of the grapes next to James' pillow, and followed Sirius obediently.

'Bye James!' He said, swallowing his last mouthful with a gulp.

'Faretheewell, lover boy,' were Sirius' parting words. He winked at me and wandered out of the door. Remus gave me an apologetic smile -I always did like him- and followed his two friends.

A feeling of relief swept over me, until I remembered that in front of me lay James, who had lovely hair and lovely eyes and I wasn't really sure why I was there in the first place, except to give him grapes (though they had been mainly devoured by Peter), and of course to get some help with my assignment but I had to admit that he wasn't really looking up to being of much help.

I was wondering if perhaps he was asleep and wouldn't even notice if I crept away, but just as I began backing towards the door, his dark eyes flickered open.

When his eyes focused and registered who I was, he smiled- though it looked to be quite an effort to do so- and said, quietly 'hello.'


'Sorry about Sirius,' he added, struggling to sit up. After pulling himself into an upright position, he added 'he can be an idiot.'

'Yes,' I agreed. 'He can.'

Once I had realised I couldn't think of anything else to say, I gazed about the hospital wing as though it was the most fascinating place I had ever been in. It wasn't; it was actually extremely dull, and I was glad I hadn't been stuck there very often. Whoever had designed it wasn't the least bit interested in the fact that people would have to lie for hours on end staring at the ceiling, for the ceiling was a dull cream colour, with not even a few cracks to count on it. There were, in the corner, several spider webs which had been overlooked, but they didn't really provide satisfactory entertainment. (They generally provoked fear.)

'How are you feeling?' I asked after shuddering inwardly at the spider webs.

'Top of the world. I was just considering dancing about on top of this bed. Would you care to join me?'

'There's no need to be sarcastic,' I said, sitting myself down on a chair next to his bed. I'd had no idea I had so much courage.

But I was after all a Gryffindor.

He made an indistinguishable noise. I answered with a similar, but sympathetic sound, and he turned and gave me a little smile.

'I like your eyes,' he said, his own set of eyes slightly un-focused. Then he flopped back onto the bed, unconscious.

I stared at him. 'Yes, thankyou for that. Now I don't know if you were delirious or if you actually like my eyes, so I'll be worrying all night.' I stood up to leave, feeling a little put out, but happy because at least his delirious self liked my eyes, when I saw Madam Pomfrey, looking at me with bewildered eyes.

'He fainted, I think,' I said, pointing to James in case she was for some reason unsure of whom I was talking about.

'He's badly concussed. I keep saying those bludgers are dangerous, but does anyone listen to me? No, no, they don't, and this is what ends up happening…honestly.' She shook her head and tutted loudly.

'I completely agree. Bye.'

I hurried out of the room.

I woke up the next day feeling much better. Sun beams were streaming through the window panes, creating pretty little patterns along the walls. After gazing at these with rapture for some time, I decided I was delirious after all, and went back to sleep.


Oh, yes. I am really, really sorry if you asked me to read one of your stories in a review or something, and I didn't. Mostly I just read reviews and then forget to, but I will try, and if you send me an email or something then I definitely will.

Tell me what you think? ::smiles imploringly at the screen::