Chapter Text
June 15, 1978
James looked forlornly at the small jar resting in his hand, a pang of disappointment shooting through him at its nearly empty state. A little jar that had provided him with many days of bliss and contentment. A jar that had allowed him to hold his head up high and let all of Hogwarts see that, no, he did not just roll out of bed right before coming to class (even if he had). A jar that – that –
Evelyn Snape had filled with a homemade recipe of the most amazing hair paste ever created.
For him.
And now it was nearly finished. Just like his time at Hogwarts.
The young man set the jar carefully down and clutched desperately at the marble countertop in front of him, his head bowed as he wrestled with a strange flood of thoughts and emotions.
Hair cream. Evelyn Snape. Hogwarts.
He didn’t know which to focus on; each evoked some rather strong feelings in him, and he felt silly that he was letting himself get so carried away by such things. He was eighteen years old, for bleeding sake. Not some little Firstie. He needed to get a get grip on himself and fast.
But he didn’t, or rather, wasn’t fast enough, because just as he was thinking that very thing, the door to the bathroom swung open and Sirius stepped into the room, the other boy’s eyes doing a quick sweep of his still dejected looking pose and narrowing.
“What are you all dramatic looking for?” he asked sidling up to a sink near James’. “Not upset about Evans still, are you? Because listen, mate, the girl is just not into you. So all this messing around with your special hair cream there everyday and - ”
Sirius carried on, but James inwardly blocked out his monologue and cringed. He had barely given Lily Evans a thought in months. At least, not in a romantic kind of way. No, that type of thinking had all been taken up by…
He gulped, his eyes drifting back to the little jar, memories of a secret kiss under mistletoe replaying in his mind as they had everyday since December. Months ago now.
Abruptly he pushed himself away from the counter.
“I’m not into Lily, Sirius,” the wizard growled, his hand naturally leaping to his hair and then stopping, remembering the precious cream he had applied to it minutes before. “So stop bringing her up!”
The other Marauder halted himself midsentence, whatever it had been, and stared fish mouthed at James – a sight the teenager would have found humorous at any other time, but simply found annoying at present, and turned away.
In the awkward pause that followed, Remus entered the bathroom; the lycanthrope instantly freezing upon arrival.
“Bad time for me to come in and brush my teeth?” he asked.
“Bad time for Prongs at least,” Sirius replied airily.
James shot the former Black heir a poisonous look and the other wizard shrugged.
“Whatever,” Sirius said. “I don’t have time for this anyway. Moony, he’s all yours,” and he exited the room, whatever he did have time for James couldn’t even guess.
In the seconds that followed, Remus quietly approached the counter and laid his toiletry supplies out neatly in front of him; as he did so, James went about gathering his own things up, including the hair cream jar, something his friend instantly noticed.
“Still have much of that left?” the other boy asked, squirting some toothpaste onto a brush. “I would’ve thought you’d be almost out.”
James grimaced, the question an instant reminder of his gloomy thoughts prior to Sirius’ arrival. “I am almost out.”
His friend eyed the jar. “No possible way of getting more of it?”
James looked in the mirror and met the werewolf’s gaze now watching him there, an understanding passing between them. “I highly doubt it.”
Evelyn took a small bite of a lemon drop scone, a favorite treat of hers at Hogwarts and something she wouldn’t have when she went home in less than a fortnight’s time, and resumed her review of notes from her last Charms class. Around her other students chattered away, discussing plans for the upcoming summer holiday, bemoaning the final week of exams, and many other mundane topics she had no interest in and was not invited to join anyway.
Not that she would have much to contribute. Her plans for summer, for example, were minimal: go home to Spinner’s End. Work. Save. Consider some potential offers in regard to her future. Make a life for herself. Try not to look back.
Nothing exciting, but it was what she wanted. What she had to do. Nothing was going to be handed to her on a silver platter.
Across the Great Hall from her, the Gryffindor table suddenly erupted in laughter. And almost against her own judgment, her eyes flicked in that direction, searching…searching as they did everyday. For proof of something.
And…yes, there. Him. Hair neat as ever thanks to the little gift she had given him. And he was smiling and laughing, holding court over the table as he often did.
Not sitting next to Black, though, she couldn’t help but notice. Usually, those two were thick as thieves. She wondered –
Oh! She ripped her attention quickly back to her notes. Back as if nothing had happened. Because nothing had happened and nothing would.
She would move on and life would go on.
She just wished those eyes she knew were looking at her would look away.
James clenched his fork tightly; the joke Peter had been starting to tell suddenly drowned out by a loud thrumming sound. The sound of his own beating heart.
He breathed in deeply and stared at the head of raven colored hair bent over a pile of papers on the table next to her.
She had been looking at him. He knew it.
He knew it.