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“Oi, Lily!”
Lily turned around like a furry at the sound of James’ voice, ready for a barked answer at whatever stupid comment he would make.
But these times were gone.
Frequently, when she was deeply lost in her bubble of thoughts, she forgot.
James had pissed her off for so long, that she still had to get used to the feeling of being in good terms with him.
Friends, actually.
“Potter,” she smiled, a hand on her hip. Her long hair, prompted by the wind, drew streaks of a coraline red on her face. “What do you want now?”
James could have stayed at the foot of the little hill for hours, observing the witch’s figure standing out against the sky in her crimson sweater. She looked royal, surrounded by the reborning grounds. Like a flower among the shy grass that peeped out after winter.
He could have lived there, day and night, with nothing to feed on other than her presence, three meters above him.
But he cleared his throat.
“Slughorn’s looking for you.”
Lily rolled her eyes, and James found it the most perfect eye-roll ever.
Her pink face, sprinkled with dots of dawn -- freckles, actually, but James was a poet -- could never look anything but gorgeous. They were a perfect match to her vivacious and charming soul.
The redhead didn’t move the slightest bit, her eyes still fixed on him, and James felt a shiver slightly shaking his whole body.
He swallowed hard before articulating, “He- he said it’s urgent.”
Lily shrugged, and turned to face the stretch of water on other side of the hill.
James damned Slughorn’s urgency under his breath.
The wind was strong, and made the young man fear that it could carry Lily away. He resisted the want of climbing the dune, grab her by the waist, and secure her to Earth: she wouldn’t have appreciated.
And he knew that she was stronger than what she looked like.
“Come here, Potter.”
Her voice made the shivers come back, and an involuntary smile dressed his lips.
Without waiting for a second invitation, he hiked the low slope.
Lily had her gaze fixed on the horizon, past the opposite shore of the Great Lake, past the forest that bordered Hogwarts’ grounds, past the mountains that framed the scene. She looked at the gray sky, without really seeing it.
James could tell, from her scrunched eyebrows, that whatever she was thinking about was not very pleasant.
“Are you okay?” he risked the stupid question.
It usually was a good way to start conversation, but not with her. Not with Lily.
“You know better than asking that, James.”
She was the only one who made his name sound like chocolate syrup and sun rays. Sirius made it sound like a joke, and Remus like a boring book. Peter made it sound like pastries, but it was not the same thing.
“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry.”
She huffed a tiny smile. “Don’t be sorry for everything, James. We get that you’re a good boy, don’t overdo it.”
“Sorry,” he whispered again, before realizing his little mistake.
Thankfully, Lily must have thought he was teasing, and laughed in the wind.
He scratched his neck, a bit embarrassed, grinning sheepishly.
The profile of her smile was a view he would never get tired of: her white teeth reflecting the light, her slight double chin caused by the receding of her jaw, the wrinkles on her lightly curled up nose, her freckles.
Her freckles.
“What does old Slughorn want?”
He had managed to completely erase the frown from her face.
He was quite good at it, lately.
Weird, considering the fact that he was its principal source, not farther than one year ago.
“‘Said something about a new party of the club, I reckon. Next weekend.”
Lily’s tongue snapped on her palate.
“Great,” she crossed her arms. “Who am I going to…”
James waited, but the rest of the sentence did not come. He gave her a half-curious, half-encouraging, “Um.”
Lily scowlded at a near tree. “We’re supposed to bring someone along, at parties. And Slughorn said he doesn’t want me to go with Marlene anymore. Last time she threw a whole pineapple cake straight at Avery’s nose.”
James bursted in a roaring laughter, imagining the fierce Slytherin with whipped cream all over his face. “So? Can’t you ask the others?”
She shrugged again, and James found it the most elegant shrug ever, beating her previous ones only because it was the most recent.
“I don’t feel like asking any of them to come.”
Definitely, she was in a somber mood.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s just tort-” But she stopped mid sentence, and turned her stare toward him. “You free on Saturday?”
The young man had to blink twice and shake the breeze off his ears before grasping question. “Free? Why?”
She gave him her darkest look. He knew why. He just wanted to make her say it.
Jerk.
“‘Cause I was about to ask you to come,” she bluntly said.
“Mmm… I think I can manage to find a place to squeeze that in my agenda.”
“Perfect.” She looked back at the horizon's gray line, as if it embarrassed by his agreement. “And stop smiling like a goblin who’s just seen a diamond necklace.”
Diamond necklace? Not even worthy of being compared to her.
“So… Is this like- a date?”
Her stare remained fixed far away. “No. It’s a favor to a friend.”
The cool air started to tickle James’ nose. It couldn’t be long before they headed back to the castle.
“You sure it’s not a date?”
This time, she glared at him. “You repeat that word once more, and the next pineapple cake is for you.”
Turning on her heels, she started walking down the hill, leaving behind her a trail of flower scent and warm air.
Was that the hint of a smile that made her freckles dances?
But he may have seen wrong.
He dearly hoped he hadn’t.
Those freckles.
They would drive him crazy, someday.
If they hadn’t already.
James sighed with a grin.
Maybe it was not a date yet, but it was not too far from it either.
“As you say, Evans,” he whispered to himself.
Then, he headed toward the silhouette that walked briskly through the grounds.
He headed toward those freckles.