american high school!jily (i)
hi! here’s the first chapter of my american high school au! it’s also on ao3 and ffnet!
LILY EVANS DOES NOT THINK OF JAMES POTTER. She does not think of him — loud, funny, arrogant — as she walks to the bus stop each morning (she does, however, regret the fact that she doesn’t have her driver’s license yet). She does not think of him as she gets her textbooks from her locker (she does think of Roger Davies, though). She does not think of him as she moves from classroom to classroom, notebook to notebook, assignment to assignment. She does not think of him as she takes yearbook photos and attends Feminists of Northwood High meetings. She does not think of his eyes (hazel) or his hair (dark brown, almost black, always ruffled does he even try) or his face (a mishmash of features that, admittedly, only he can pull off).
There are, however, plenty of other people — girls, especially — who do think of James. Girls who think of his eyes (captivating, intense) and his hair (perfectly messy) and his face (jawline, glasses). Girls who watch him sit at the best table in the cafeteria with Sirius and Remus and Peter, trading jokes back and forth and smiling easily, and wish, fervently, that they could be pulled into his vortex, into his charisma, into his confidence.
Lily doesn’t look down on these girls — no, that would be borderline misogynistic of her. She just doesn’t understand the appeal, because, to her, James Potter has always seemed a little too sharp around the edges, a disco ball made of jagged glass, to provoke any feelings of fondness or… more. Her impression of him is no doubt colored by Sev, who, despite now being the poster boy for fucking Brietbart, used to tell her things. Used to tell her what James would do, how his friends — “they call themselves the Marauders, Lil, how presumptuous is that” — would take a laugh at his expense. James Potter is smart, the thing is, and observant, and he knew just what to say — just what buttons to push — in order to get Sev where it really hurt.
Whatever. The point is, James Potter is sharp, and Lily doesn’t want to prick her finger.
So, when James walks over to Lily on the first day of October and asks her to go out with him, ignoring the fact that she’s fulfilling her very important duties as yearbook editor-in-chief by taking photos of the soccer team — Roger Davies is the “keeper,” which Lily has learned means goalie, and James is a striker, whatever the hell that means, and Lily thinks it’s unfair that James gets all the glory when Roger is the backbone of the team, but whenever she tries this argument on her friends, they dismiss it on the grounds that she has a not-so-tiny crush on Roger and therefore is biased — Lily says no.
“No?” James repeats, and for a second Lily feels almost bad for him, ruffled hair and eyes blinking at her from behind those glasses of his.
“No,” she affirms. “I’m sorry, but I’m not interested.”
He nods, and twists around to look at Sirius, Remus, and Peter, who are all laughing — at him or at her, Lily can’t be sure, but either way it makes her skin prickle — from the sidelines. “Hey, she said no!”
“Fuck,” Sirius says, his voice carrying in a way he must be aware of. “Sorry, Evans!”
Lily is a little surprised that Sirius knows her name. Surprised, perhaps, because she thinks of him only as Marlene’s fiercest crush, the reason why so much Taylor Swift leaks out of her friend’s aging Toyota. No, Sirius is not a person, not in Lily’s head. The collision of these two worlds — Marlene’s and reality’s — makes her very uncomfortable.
“For what?” Lily yells back, rolling her strained neck (that camera weighs heavier than she remembered — technically taking photos is below her paygrade, but fucking Lucius skimped out again because of a “family emergency” and she has to get them in in time, and besides… a plausible excuse to look at Roger is certainly not something she would ever pass up on.
“Sorry for unleashing James on you, it was a dare,” Sirius shouts, and one of the practicing soccer players tells them to either shut up or go somewhere else. Lily rolls her eyes and makes a decision. She could walk towards them, cross the social line, discover what “unleashing James” means.
She doesn’t. She shrugs and walks away.
“See you around, Evans?” James calls, voice strangely strangled-sounding. She thinks she imagined it.
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