Asking: A Jily Drabble

Asking

Oh, he played it so cool raising those stupid eyebrows at her as he passed. He hadn't asked her out for weeks and weeks now. He just kept raising those eyebrows. Sometimes a wave. Almost never a smile, but once or twice in these last few weeks, she'd been lucky and he'd forgotten that he was sulking.

She couldn't take it anymore. He'd stopped pairing up with her in potions—she finished much faster but giggled much less. He'd stopped purposely flying by her seat during quidditch matches. He'd stopped leaving those ridiculous notes on her door. She couldn't stand it.

"James!"

He was already far in front of her, but he stopped. "Evans?"

"James," she said, hurrying over to him so they didn't have to shout. "James."

"Yes? That's me."

"James, do you want to ask me something?"

"No... Unless you know something I don't?"

"James, do you still want to ask me the thing you've asked me a lot before? The thing I always say no to? If you still want to ask, I want you to ask."

Oh, he played it so cool with that stupid, goofy grin.

"Right. Yeah, do you want to be potions partners, Evans?"

"I'm about to ask you if you won't ask me."

"That wasn't it? Hmmm, what could it be? What do I ask you? I can't imagine what you have in mind..." That grin got wider.

"James."

"Oh, I know. Can I see your transfiguration notes?"

"Ugh, you're the worst. Yes. Yes. Yes to partners, yes to notes, yes to a date with you. I want to go on a date. Will you go on a date with me?"

"I thought you'd never ask."