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Before you know it, you feel him take his seat next to you.

You wish you weren't stirred by his presence. You wish you didn't get excited during the class before Charms every day just because you get to see him, get to _sit next to him_. You wish you wouldn't try to look at him through the corner of your eye.

You also wish he didn't smell so good.

"Evans." He says warmly, smiling.

You sigh. "Potter." You say coolly, looking back down at your perfectly pristine notes about the Charms Flitwick covered last class, mouth pressed into a straight line.

Him just _being _there makes you tense up. His very presence makes you want to jump for joy, cry, and smash a vase… all at the same time.

He shifts in his seat, pulling out quills from his bag.

"What's got _you_ all pissy?"

You suddenly feel spiteful. Just because _he's _in a good mood doesn't mean you don't have the right to be angry!

What you're angry about doesn't matter, obviously, but that's not the point. It's never the point with him!

"What's it to you?" You spit out.

He looks as if he's just been slapped in the face.

"Sorry." He says quietly.

And now you don't really know how to respond.

Class begins. The professor speaks about things that are sure to be on the NEWTs, and any other class you would be paying full attention, hanging on every word they said (you're no overachieving bookworm, but you'll be damned if you don't get the best grades on your NEWTs, so you won't have to worry about whether or not people will hire you).

But you can't focus today. And you feel bitter and bitchy and bloated, because you were mean to him for no reason, creating a made up idea for you to act angry about, and now who would want to talk with a psycopath?

(Even though you won't admit it to anyone, you love having conversations with him. He's clever and brilliant, and after a few months you realized that he was the natural choice for Head Boy. No one has those leadership qualities like he does).

You watch him take down sloppy notes in his sloppy boy-handwriting, and doodle in the margins.

You have to sneak quick peeks at him, though, because every time you look at him he looks at you.

Class eventually ends, and everyone gathers up their things.

You feel James walk behind you. He whispers, "Sorry for whatever made you upset." His voice and breath on your neck sends shivers up your spine.

You feel him slip something into your robe pocket, and when you turn around, he's gone.

Walking back to the Gryffindor girl dorms, you're almost afraid to see whatever he's slipped in your pocket.

Then, you dive your hand into the pocket, and extract a wrapped strawberry Jelly Slug from Honeydukes.

_You sat in the library quietly discussing scheduling for the upcoming month._

_"Fine, I'll do Thursday. But you know I'll just pay Remus in chocolate frogs to do it." He said, folding a piece of parchment idly back and forth._

_You snorted. "I don't understand. Candy in exchange for a night of wandering around the cold, dark castle? Not worth it."_

_"Come now Evans, there must be some candy product that would persuade you to take some rounds?" He asked, leaning into you._

_You thought for a long moment. "Jelly slugs."_

_His thunderous laugh echoed through the library, earning a pinched glare and a "shhhh!" from Madame Pince._

_"Really? Jelly slugs?" He asked incredulously._

_You shrugged. "What can I say? I like them. Now, anyway –"_

He'd remembered. That was over three months ago, and he'd remembered.

You felt like you could cry.

Why did he have to be so kind and thoughtful but then flip flop between being extremely flirty and being cold? And why did you have to hear about different girls crying their eyes out because James Potter had sex with them and then threw them to the wayside?

It was at this point you realized. You denied it before, but it was in plain sight now.

You fancied James Potter. Bad.

He wasn't just a reminder of the past. In fact, his new attitude and maturity and non-bullying tendencies were anything _but _reminiscent to your early years at Hogwarts.

You clutched the Jelly slug as you walked through the halls, reveling in the fact that you'd finally let yourself admit to your emotions.

* * *

The next day, you get to Charms late. He's already sitting at your shared desk, and you slip into your seat right as class is starting.

He doesn't say anything to you, just continues his usual routine of taking a few notes and then drawing snitches and other Quidditch-related items in the margin.

You can't stop staring at this little piece of hair on the back of his head that is sticking straight up in the air. You find it adorable.

But you are prepared today. As he leaves, you slip a sugar quill (you know those are _his _favorite) you nicked from your roommate Marlene into his bag with a note that says, "Thanks for the slug."

* * *

It becomes a game, a tennis match. Though Marlene is probably going to stab you for taking so many of her sugar quills, you love the fact that you've got a secret with him.

You don't tell anyone, don't talk about it him, don't acknowledge it. But the notes start getting better and better, and you anticipate the time when you get to read them.

He writes things like, "You were bloody amazing in Charms today" or "You're brilliant" or even recently, "You have the cutest nose". You saved all of them in a little coin jar, all folded up.

You think you might gain five pounds from all the Jelly slugs you've been eating, but you don't care.

And then one night (the day you got your favorite note yet, "You're beautiful", and you sent your most daring note, saying "You're fit"), he breaks the cycle.

"Evans." He calls, meeting you in the middle of the hallway on the fifth floor. He walks purposefully, quickly towards you.

You smile despite yourself. "Potter."

"_Do you fancy me?_"

The air feels like it was all sucked out of your lungs, and you can't breathe (apparently, he's done with being elusive). Your heart is beating, and you feel afraid. Because even though you've finally admitted your feelings to yourself, you haven't even told your best friends. You certainly didn't expect to have to admit it to the subject of the feelings.

You figure your face is twisted quite unattractively at this moment, because his hand shoots up into his hair, and suddenly he looks much more unsure than the boy who came barreling up here a minute ago.

You try to force yourself to speak, to articulate. Though you start to second guess yourself, do you even want to date James Potter? He's a womanizer, and what if he was actually still infuriating and cruel and bullying? What if you were all wrong? If you admitted your feelings now...

But on the other hand, this was your chance. You could admit that you did, and then passionately snog him, and then finally get to be dating James Potter.

"Never mind." He muttered, turning around and walking back the way he'd come. You raised your hand to stop him, but dropped it dejectedly. You had missed your chance.

* * *

There are no more notes after that. No more secret smiles. You work side by side in Charms, but he does not look at you. You check your robe pocket routinely, but in vain.

It's over this period that you observe him. How boisterous and loud and fun and adventurous he is with his friends, how focused and brilliant he is during classes, how quiet and thoughtful he is while he does his homework, how athletic and sexy and fit he looks when he plays Quidditch.

He put himself on the line for you time and time again, and you couldn't even answer a question when he was the one who summoned up the courage and asked in the first place.

Your friends notice something wrong with you, but they don't ask. They've learned that you will never admit what's going on over the years.

He is dangerous and elusive and you might very well get your heart broken.

But you decide that's a chance you're willing to take.

* * *

That day, after Charms, students flood out of the classroom quickly. Luckily, he takes a little longer to pack up his things. Eventually it's just you and him, and you wait in front of the door.

Your entire body feels jittery, and a large part of yourself is telling you to run, and that this is a really stupid and possibly horrifying idea. But you force yourself to stay put.

He walks up to you, hair messy and eyes bright, looking at you expectantly as if to say, "hey idiot, get out of the doorway."

You stand your ground.

Fishing in your pocket, you extract your last sugar quill. Smiling up at him hopefully, you put the quill in his hand. He flips the quill over, and on the back is a note.

It says, "I fancy you."

He looks back at you skeptically, but you nod your head.

He asks you to Hogsmeade and you agree. And then he kisses you like you've never been kissed before, and you realize you made the right decision. You do fancy him, probably more than even Jelly slugs.

* * *

**_Please review!_**

End file.

Memories

by accioremote7

Category: Harry Potter Genre: Family, Romance Language: English Status: Completed Published: 2012-03-03 Updated: 2012-03-03 Packaged: 2015-07-14 02:14:43 Rating: K+ Chapters: 1 Words: 522 Publisher: www.fanfiction.net Story URL: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7891861/1/ Author URL: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/3314937/accioremote7 Summary: James/Lily oneshot. "As the green light flashes, he remembers many things. Pieces and snippets of all parts of his life. They seem to flash past his eyes, like a movie."

Memories

Memories are strange, he thinks.

They get twisted, contorted, changed…modified. Some are quite subconscious, like the way you smell a certain smell and a time and place simply pop up in your mind… and you can't for the life of you remember the last time you thought about it. Some are things you are required to memorize, perhaps a long time ago, and just become part of the many things that you've been expected to memorize at school.

And some, no matter how horrible, you can't seem to forget for the life of you.

But then there are others, like the first time you taste chocolate fondue or your first love… that stick with you until the very end.

As the green light flashes, he remembers many things. Pieces and snippets of all parts of his life. They seem to flash past his eyes, like a movie.

He sees his father, teaching him how to mount his first toy broom… doing his first spell with his brand-new wand… meeting the boys who he would come to think of as his brothers… meeting _her_…going to Hogsmeade… his first Quidditch game… the first time he tried firewhiskey… mastering the Animagus transformation… when he won the Quidditch cup… the first time they kissed… his parents' funeral… the first time they had sex… their first Christmas out of Hogwarts… meeting Harry for the first time…

All these memories flash in his mind before he hits the floor.

His last thought is that he hopes is that they manage to escape.

* * *

><p>"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! I'll try to hold him off — just go!"<p>

Her heart is pounding as she runs up the stairs, desperately wishing James had his wand.

Half-way up the stairs, she hears his body hit the floor.

The tears are streaming freely down her face as she wills herself not to fall, to keep moving, but her body doesn't let her.

Finally, she summons the courage, the courage that _he'd _want her to have.

She throws open the door and sees Harry crying loudly in his crib. She picks him up, holds him close to her, whispers things in his ear she desperately wants him to remember for as long as he lives.

She hopes that's a long time.

But suddenly the door is thrown open and he's _there_, the one who killed her best friends, the one who killed her parents… the one who killed _him_.

"Not Harry! Please, no, not Harry — I'll do anything!" She pleads, but the narrow snake-like eyes do not soften.

Many memories flash in her mind before she hits the floor.