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Lily Evans has a crush.
Mary is sure of it, even though her red-headed friend, stubborn cow that she is, refuses to admit it.
She’s seen how she loses herself in daydreams during class; how she stays awake at night tossing and turning; how her appetite goes through inexplicable highs and lows; how she’s suddenly taken up using make-up and wearing jewellery and putting entirely too much effort into her hair.
The problem is that she can’t deduce who the object of Lily’s affection is; because Lily, who has always walked with her head held high and making eye contact that would cause the bravest souls to waver, is now sneaking through the corridors as though she doesn’t want to be seen, and her green eyes are glued to the floor more often than not.
Mary tries to catch her staring, maybe laughing too loud at someone’s joke, seeking a presence. She watches Lily during Charms, which all the cute Ravenclaw boys take, but her attention does not stray from Professor Flitwick; she snoops around her during Herbology, every time she’s paired with a Hufflepuff, but their conversations are never anything more than simply civil; she waits for her after the prefects’ meeting, to see if she’ll dawdle chatting with the Head Boy, but her behaviour is fully professional.
As for the Slytherins, they’re out of the question, by virtue of lacking any semblance of virtue. Whoever attracts Lily’s attention must, first of all, have strong morals that align with hers; she could never fall for someone she doesn’t see eye to eye with. He should be able to challenge her, match her intelligence and creativity. And, well, Lily would be loath to admit it, but Mary knows that her best friend has a particularly soft spot for a cute smile.
It’s an entirely innocent sentence, spoken as a throwaway thought, that finally clues Mary in.
“We’re going to the Quidditch final on Saturday, yes?”
“Oh dear Merlin.” Mary puts a hand in front of her mouth; her eyes have widened like dinner trays. She leans closer to Lily, so that she won’t be overheard by the entire common room. “It’s Potter you fancy.”
Lily lets out something like a gasp, or a snort. “What?”
“You fancy Potter! That’s why the sudden interest in Quidditch!”
“What do you mean sudden interest, we always go to the Quidditch games.” Mary bursts out laughing, and Lily looks supremely affronted by that. “And even if we didn’t, it wouldn’t mean —” A high-pitched squeal disrupts her protest, but still she persists. “He’s not the only boy on the team!”
Mary can’t stop laughing — she is cackling. James Potter is such a perfect match for Lily, it’s an ungodly oversight that she hadn’t figured it out sooner. Then again, she’d been too influenced by Lily’s former insistence that she wouldn’t go out with him if it was a choice between him and the giant squid — a sentiment that hasn’t been reiterated for a while now, as a matter of fact.
Lily tries to glare at her, even though the fact that she’s flushed red from top to bottom undermines her effort. “Stop. Mary. Stop!” She huffs. “Merlin almighty. Shut up!”
“What’s so funny?” James Potter, always going where laughter is heard — never one to miss out on a joke.
“Lily!” Mary exclaims, between peals of laughter. “She’s ridiculous!”
A small, dimpled smirk crooks his lips. “We already knew that,” he says, and one might think him malicious, but the way his voice deepens and his side-eye softens when it catches Lily hunched small in her chair betrays all the affection that hides under the bravado.
They’re ridiculous, both of them. A new wave of squealing laughter washes over Mary. James Potter shakes his head in amusement and walks away, with the occasional furtive glance towards Lily that she resolutely looks away from.
Once he’s safely out of earshot, Mary gathers her wits and speaks, albeit not without mirth in her voice. “We’re going to the Quidditch final, don’t worry.”
“Shut up,” Lily says, half-heartedly now. Her cheeks are still tinged.
“And I won’t tell anyone you fancy Potter.”
Lily rolls her eyes, and the common room ceiling has never been so fascinating.
“You are ridiculous,” she mutters.