Jily oneshots

The Wednesday Shift

by Celestia0909

James Potter hated working on Wednesdays.

They were quiet, boring, and the only customers who ever seemed to come into the pub on Wednesday nights were old people and drunkards. Neither of which were groups of people that presented him with any prospective dates.

And yet, here he was on the third consecutive Wednesday, covering for his idiot best mate, Sirius', shift because apparently he had an important lecture to attend at his college. Which was really just a coverup for him wanting to skive off and get pissed at the other pub down the road with his their other mates from uni. The unmitigated prat that he was.

"Hi."

The woman who had taken a seat opposite him was absolutely gorgeous, and for a moment he was stunned as she dropped her laptop, textbooks, and a small bag on the counter. The Hogwarts sweater she wore, with a golden '2019' embroidered to the left of her chest, told him she was in his year, and he was stunned as she cast her eyes to him. Green eyes bordered by long lashes disarmed him and made his knees feel as wobbly as they'd looked when he was a teenager.

"Hey," his voice sounded breathless. Why did his voice sound so breathless?

"Can I get a drink?"

"You are aware you're in a pub, aren't you?"

The lovely woman looked around the bar with her wide emerald eyes, a discerning look on her face before she turned back to him, a small smile on her pale face, "Yes, it seems I am. So does this pub have a drinks list? Or are cheeky comebacks the only thing you serve here?"

James bent down and nicked a couple of drinks lists from a tray near the ice, sliding it unceremoniously across the bar top to his new patron, "You've just missed happy hour, but I'm in a generous mood."

"What a gentleman," she smirked, resting her elbow on the bar and propping her cheek on her propped up hand. He shrugged and she returned to browsing the list of drinks.

While she was looking away, he had a chance to survey her face properly, and he found that he quite liked what - or rather, whom - he was looking at. Deep auburn hair, with fine strands of blonde and gold tumbled behind her back in waves. Her forehead was covered in an overgrown fringe, and he liked the way it skimmed along the tops of her eyes.

He had never seen eyes like hers, and he wished she'd look away from the drinks list so he could see them again. They weren't just green, they were emerald, and jade, and moss, and every shade of green mixed into one. He felt the all too familiar tug in his stomach that bubbled when he fancied a girl, and confusion clouded his mind as she hummed along to a familiar tune that played through the speakers.

She wasn't even his type, nowhere near it even. Usually he preferred blondes who liked country sports, not redhead alcoholics who went to bars on Wednesday evenings.

"It's rude to stare," she mumbled playfully before looking away from the drinks list and at him instead. As if her looks weren't enough to capture his attention, she seemed like the sort of person with lightning fast wit too.

"I wasn't staring." He was, he totally was. His cheeks felt hot and not for the first time was he glad that he had decided to grow his beard out, even if it was itchy as hell. At least she wouldn't see him blushing.

"Yes you were."

"No I wasn't."

"Are we really doing this?" She brushed her fringe from side to side with her fingers, and James watched as her thick eyebrow quirked upwards quizzically at him.

"I guess not, but for the record, I was not staring."

She looked unconvinced but she shook her head and chuckled anyway, "What's in a Firewhiskey?"