#jilyness

James couldn't understand what people loved about the the library so much, with its no nonsense atmosphere and governed by the rule of the iron-stared librarian. There was the books, he supposed, but it still didn't make much sense. Particularly the insubordinate amounts of time Lily Evans spent in there. He knew from peeking in or asking her friends or spotting her familiar labelled dot on the Marauder's Map. But he was not a prejudiced person (or he was broadening his horizons a little more) so that afternoon, he swung into the library, his bag slung across his shoulder.

It wasn't entirely coincidental that Lily happened to be there at the same time since he'd seen her coming this way. The rest of the Marauders had looked astounded when he said he was actually going to do that Care of Magical Creatures homework, but they didn't pursue it. They only had those funny looks in their eyes, the gits.

The instant Lily left the kitchen, James counted to one hundred, so he could be sure he wasn't going to end up sprinting past her, and then dashed out the kitchen. He took a short cut upstairs, winding his ways through a disorientating passage until he was only a corridor away from the Gryffindor common room. Just as he garbled the password to the Fat Lady, he saw Lily coming up the stairs. He got in just in time to not be seen he was sure, and sprinted up to his separate dorm. Shutting the door, out of breath even after the runs he took in the morning.

His room was a mess. That was the long and short of it. That had been the spark of panic that had ran through him when Lily had suggested his room. He could just imagine Lily being a ridiculously tidy person, particularly if he took into account the way she'd organised the prefect room which he had had to memorise one afternoon because he'd been terrified he'd completely mess it up. It was a good thing he was good at memorising things.

Sweeping all the clothes up off the floor; the myriad of old pranking equipment, some of it years old; his collection of pretty much every banned item on Filch's list (a guilty pleasure he would call it, if it was ever found) and scattered sweets and chocolate. Butterbeer? Where was the butterbeer? He couldn't believe it when he looked under his bed and it wasn't there.

I, yeah, you think so? I reckon she might hit me if I did.

This could end up being a remarkably long list, considering everything is James’ favourite thing about Lily (keep in mind also, some of this is about the future, like it asks).

First and foremost, James loved Lily’s hair. Although technically, he loves all of her, everything about her, her hair is the first thing he notices in a crowd. He’s called her ‘carrot cake’, ‘candle wick’, ‘gingerbread’, ‘gingersnaps’, ‘gingerly’, just plain ‘ginger’ and even ‘fireball’; it symbolises Lily’s more fiery, stubborn personality that he adores.

The piercing on her belly button allows for him to make jokes as frequently as possible. He took the opportunity to poke fun at how ‘innocent’ Lily was reckless enough to go get a piercing.

He loves her lips - and kissing them whenever possible, because it took him long enough to get there - because of the small creases in them when they’re dry and they’re irresistible when she bites her lip or worries about the small scar she has.

I imagine him really liking her toes (hang on, okay, I know it sounds weird). When she was pregnant and had to sit down, so she’d occasionally get to put up her feet, or if she was in bed first and he crawled in later, then he’d sit and wiggle them, and then start tickling the soles of her feet…cue tickle wars.

James loves all of her curves, everything joint and limb, especially when he eventually gets to see them all bare. The small of her back, the sharp prominence of her collar bones, the nape of her neck, the slope of her shoulders (and the way her hair curls over her skin in stark contrast), the little bump on the side of her wrists, the shadows just under the slant of her jaw, the roundness of her breasts. [Alright James, shut up. You can go now, you’re no longer needed here with your love puppy ramblings.]

Ink blots dotted James' piece of parchment. He was supposed to be drawing detailed diagrams of Festering Coppulice for Herbology but he couldn't remember how the plant set out its trap to lure in insects and how early wizards and witches used that to their advantage.

Lily had walked into the Common Room ten minutes ago and she hadn't left James' mind since. There wasn't any space for Festering Coppulice.

Paper airplanes never grew old. There was so much you could do with them: generally James saw possibilities in everything. He sat in the Gryffindor Common room with his Transfiguration homework laid out in front of him. It wouldn't take him very long if he actually focused on it, but in five minutes he'd already made five planes, idly fiddling with them, his eyes flickering about. He was supposed to be thinking about non verbal spells in Transfiguration - it was what most of the teachers were talking about at the beginning of term. Bloody non verbal spells.

Picking up his wand, James started fiddling with the planes, murmuring soft incantations and tapping each one. Then he started to have one of the planes fly through the air. It dipped and dived over the various heads, lilting on an invisible air current. A loud snap came from behind him, but it was only a game of Exploding Snape; it drew his attention away though, his wand hand jerking.

Walking straight to his bed as soon as he stepped through the dorm door, James face planted the pillow, his frustrated groan muffled by the sheets. Some people would say they wouldn't be able to find the capacity to hate Dean Forstuque, but James didn't find it all that hard. He was a bloody prat: always so nice and perfect and doing things for everyone all the time and such a Hufflepuff. Not that he expressed this opinion too vocally - he was just never very civil on the odd occasion he'd had to talk to him.

James was immensely glad there was no one else in the room; the Marauders had probably had enough of him and his obsession with Lily. It also gave him ample time to thump his head repeated on the headboard of his bed. It wasn't the most sensible thing to do in the situation, but he'd never been a very sensible person.

Why doesn't she like me? And why does she like him? 

Having just walked past the two of them, he'd promptly turned the other way in a childish huff and come up here. Why did it hurt so much to see her with him? Perhaps it was just his stupid bruised ego, that after so many years, she'd decided she liked someone else other than James. But it really hurt.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid," he said slowly, emphasising each word with another thud on the wooden headboard. James really should have gotten over Lily Evans a long time ago. And he really should have given up when she started dating Forstuque. But every time he talked to her, even though there was clearly disdain in most of their dialogue, on her side at least, he found his heart stuttering uncontrollably; for a few moments he would forget that her boyfriend (that dreaded word) even existed.