It was during the weeks before fourth year examinations that James caught himself staring at Lily (again). She was doing that thing (again) where she bit her lip while she was studying. He had sat down about three hours ago. He had written about…half a roll of parchment’s worth of notes. Excellent.
“Don’t mumble, Potter. Some of us want to pass,” Lily said without looking up.
Did he just say that aloud? Had he spoken any other of his thoughts? He distinctly remembered thinking the words “freckles just under eyes” and “pretty” and “really clever” and “so glad she’s not wearing that horrid jumper”. Among other things.
“Erm…I’m just confused. I guess,” he said staring at her, confusion evident on his face.
“Not the great James Potter!” Lily said feigning shock. She sighed and gave him what he could only internally describe as an exasperated smirk (a smile maybe?). “What do you need, Potter?”
That’s when it hit him. He could see it as clearly as the faint little freckles on her nose. “I need…What I need is…to be alone. With you. What do you say? Give me a shot. I’m sure you’ll find I can be quite persuasive.” He made sure to ruffle his hair as he finished his offer.
She said no.
