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Everything is still. I can only hear the muffled snores coming from Meg two beds over. She tends to do that after a tough day of classes and a gruelling Quidditch practice. But for all these near-perfect conditions for sleeping, it just won’t happen tonight.
Now I, Lily Evans, have never been given to insomnia. I can generally lie down, wait for the girls to stop their gossiping, of which I usually take part, roll around for a few minutes to find that comfortable spot, and then I fall asleep - simple as that.
So then why can’t I fall asleep?
I’ve done all my homework for tomorrow. I’ve practiced for Charms and Defense. I even put a decent amount of effort toward a semi-passable Transfiguration spell. No, it definitely can’t be school work that’s keeping me up.
Well I only had one slice of cake at supper, and I didn’t get hot chocolate or tea, so none of those would be keeping me awake.
Meg’s really starting to snore loudly over there. She must have had a particularly tough practice. Trust James to . . .
That can’t possibly be it, but the more I think about it the more I’m starting to believe it is true. The thought makes me want to laugh . . . or cry out in frustration.
I can’t get to sleep because I can’t stop thinking of James Potter.
I sigh at the thought. We’ve had a . . . an interesting relationship to say the least. Not that we planned it to be that way - it just happened.
He was such an annoying kid. So arrogant about his stupid grades, his superior Quidditch skills, his impossibly rich family, and the fact that he could charm anyone into liking him. And then there was that equally annoying best mate of his, Sirius Black. The two were inseparable, even to the point of landing their many detentions together.
I could never understand why Remus Lupin was ever friends with them. Such a kind and considerate boy. I could have been friends with him, but Severus Snape was so opposed to anything even remotely related to Potter or Black.
Nobody really understood my friendship with Severus, but then again they never knew how it felt to be a Muggleborn.
I remember our first trip to Hogsmeade in third year was coming up. Potter and Sev had just fought again and Potter won. Just to rub it in, he asked me out to Hogsmeade in front of everyone. You should have seen Sev’s face - he was so angry! And I couldn’t believe how smug and how sure Potter was that I wanted to knock him down a few pegs. Turns out this only bolstered his confidence.
He asked me out a few times after that. I don’t think it was really until the end of fifth-year it really became a bad habit. He wouldn’t leave me alone.
After that time by the lake after our Defense OWL, I was upset. Not only had I lost my best friend, but I had gained a festering sore. My anger couldn’t be vented in any way other than continually denying potter’s advances.
It was a challenge for him being unable to date me, and I was only too willing to make it as hard for him as I could. Everything seemed to end in a very public shouting match.
For me, it became almost like a game. How bad could I make my refusal sound? What sort of comebacks could I be ready with? Who would win the next round?
Well it turns out the professors won. Some time in sixth-year after my seventeenth birthday, McGonagall caught us rowing. We had been so careful up until this point making sure not to take it too far. But things had escalated and we had drawn our wands.
A week’s worth of detentions and fifty points each from Gryffindor later saw me a bit humbled. He had done the lines, polished the trophies, scrubbed the floors, all without magic and all without saying a word while all I could do was complain. Apparently I don’t like to be punished.
It was a side to James Potter that was completely new to me. I’d never stopped to consider he was being a good sport. And away from everyone, he was quite polite and easy to get along with. Once I’d opened up, he made those detentions go by much quicker.
So we became friends after I’d forgiven him. So what? That didn’t mean I was accepting a date or anything. And believe me - he tried.
Every time a Hogsmeade trip came up, he’d continue asking, hoping that our friendship had changed something. And every time I would joke and tell him no. Our little game had continued, although much more good-naturedly. I could see that in the way he looked at accepting the challenge for next time.
Over this past summer he had tried a few times to get me to go out for dinner with him, but of course the game made me decline in the most outrageous way possible. Though a group of us did stay over at his place for a week that summer.
It was such a shock learning Dumbledore had made him Head Boy, especially seeing as I was his Head Girl. While not entirely unfounded, the fact remained that he had never been made a prefect a few years back.
Fine, so we have to spend a lot more time with each other than we’ve ever had to in the past. That still doesn’t mean I’ll be accepting a date.
Boy do we see a lot of each other. We’ve taken the same classes since forever, so seeing him there is inescapable. We have to patrol frequently, something we’re required to do. Not that I mind - it’s just another time we’re thrown together. And now we keep the same friends so outside of the classroom and corridors we hand out. But that still holds no sway in me becoming soft and accepting.
At the start of this school year none of our friends could relax what with all of our NEWT-level homework. It fell to James and I to distract them with our little game. Over the summer I had come up with a few good ones, but so far I’ve only used that one.
After that one glorious denial, I couldn’t help but notice how down he seemed for the rest of the night, particularly during patrols. Had I gone too far? Did I hurt his feelings? Would a date with him really be so bad?
The time had finally come. I was considering going on a date with James Potter. Not only consider it, I had completely planned on going out with him, and I had every intention of enjoying it. He’d made me appreciate who he was at last, and now I want to be a part of that.
After this revelation I had, I resolved to say yes the very next time he asked me out. I would smile, and in all sincerity, willingly agree to go on a date. That was over two months ago, now.
Not once has he asked me out since the last time we played our game at the start of the year. Only it doesn’t appear to have ever been a game for him. He truly had feelings for me and hoped that next time would be different. He doesn’t know that next time really will have a different outcome. This is why I can’t sleep.
But what can I do about it? It’s the middle of the night and any decent human being is asleep at the moment. Obviously I’m not one of the decent ones if I’m still rolling around in my bed unable to find even a marginally comfortable position. And Merlin knows nobody will fall asleep the minute Meg decides to snore.
I sigh again, throw off my covers and heave myself upright. There’s no point in trying to grasp the wind, so I pull on my dressing robe, shove slippers onto my feet, grab the book I left on my nightstand, and head down to the common room.
I’ve been meaning to read this book again for a while, but homework always won out. On the sofa next to the fire will be a nice spot to curl up and read for tonight.
It’s late, so I try not to be too loud and wake someone, but apparently another student had the same idea as me. Or rather, a dark-haired and bespectacled seventh-year student whom I know very well had the same idea.
–James?†I call softly as I approach him. He’s staring at the fire in thought and I’ve pulled him out of his reverie.
–Lily? What are you doing up so late?†he asks. I can’t help but notice the look of concern on his face as he shifts over to make room for me.
–Can’t sleep. You?â€
–Same,†he answers, his features relaxing in relief as he returns his gaze to the flickering flames.
For a while that’s all he does, his brows slowly furrowing more and more. I decide to finally open my book, but after the first chapter I realize it’s no use continuing as long as he is there.
I close my book and set it down, then bring my legs up. We are both leaning against an armrest now, with our feet meeting at the centre of the sofa. But I don’t concentrate on that and instead focus on the lettering of the title of my book that I’ve set on the ground between us.
I’ve always admired calligraphy and nice handwriting, but my penmanship never seemed to be good enough to be considered art.
–Tired yet?†James asks me. He’s turned his head to that he’s looking straight at me - straight at me with those beautiful hazel eyes. How is it I’ve never noticed their beauty until now? How did I not fall for them sooner?
–You still with us, Lil?†he asks, leaning forward a little to make sure I’m alright. I guess I was preoccupied with his eyes a little too long.
–Sorry. I’m fine, I’m just . . . thinking about things,†I answer with a smile. As in I’m thinking about you but don’t want you to know.
James isn’t convinced. He raises his eyebrow, cocks his head, and gives me a questioning look. He has no idea how that affects me, his ability to care.
–Meg’s snoring and I’m wondering how best to either smother her or cut off her nose,†I say, hoping the joke will set him off course.
–I find a none-too-gentle-shove usually does the trick,†he replies with a smile. He’s told me about Sirius and his snoring. We even dumped water on him during the summer claiming we could hear him through the walls.
–Seeing as it’s your fault for pushing her so hard during practice, I’d say you should have the honours,†I tell him.
He doesn’t like that answer and lightly kicks my leg and tells me, –You know I can’t get up there without a trip to the playground.â€
It’s my turn to kick his leg. –Bollocks! You’ve been up there before. I don’t know how you did it, but one of you did. I haven’t forgotten you went up to our dormitory and stole one of our bras to hang on that statue of Slytherin near the dungeons . . . no - I still won’t say whose it was.â€
They thought they were pretty funny pulling that prank. The Gryffindor girls in my year were all appalled to learn that the boys, or rather a small group of them, had figured a way up. That fact alone made us swear to each other never to reveal whose bra it was so they couldn’t figure out which bed belonged to who.
I’m slightly ashamed to know that the lacy pink bra was mine. Normally I hate pink, but I can never wear it with my red hair and buying a pink bra seemed like a good compromise. The lace was my mother’s idea saying it was sexy, even if nobody but me would be seeing it. The boys sure thought it was and have fantasized who it belonged to ever since.
–I’m beginning to think it’s yours and you have a little more naughty in you than we think,†says James, smirking.
–Whoever it belonged to is beside the point. All I need you to do is go smother Meg for me so I can sleep,†I tell him.
–I’ll consider it if you help me with my sleeplessness.â€
–No, no, no - if I actually help you, you actually have to help me. There’s no consideration about it,†I say. I know he’s trying to catch me on the wording.
He pretends to be upset and glares at me, but I know he’s pleased I figured it out. Or is he proud because he knew I could?
–Well I think I’m having trouble because I’m thinking too much, but I don’t know how to stop thinking about it.†He says it all while looking into the fire.
I have a bad feeling about it, but I ignore it and say, –Could you be a little more specific - like what you’re thinking about?â€
–It’s not so much a what as it is a who,†he says, not looking at me.
–Well as long as it’s not the unfortunate target of a prank, which I’d have to reprimand you for, I might be able to help,†I tell him more cheerfully than what is called for. And just like that, we’re playing another game. How close can we get without actually getting there? Only these stakes are much higher.
James doesn’t answer. He’s returned to that state of staring at the fire in thought, brows beginning to furrow again.
I’m not sure if I’ve offended him or if he really is having a tough time thinking too much. Deciding to play it safe, I say, –I’m sorry, James. I know you haven’t pranked anyone like that in ages. That was unfair of me to say.â€
He looks at me with those gorgeous eyes making me catch my breath. His gaze is so intense, but I can’t find it in me to look away.
–Did you just apologize? Don’t tell me you’re going soft on me,†he finally says with a mischievous grin.
At this comment, I kick him again. There’s no doubt in my mind he’s playing a game of his own, I just don’t know how he’s planned the end and who will win.
Silence again. Why can’t we find anything to say? Normally you can’t shut us up without a Silencing Charm. But I immediately realize we’re trying to say the right thing - whatever that is. Or trying not to say the wrong thing. And we’re not quite sure what the other is thinking or feeling.
–How’s your Potions essay coming along?†I ask. It’s a neutral topic.
–Not bad, but I think I’m still a foot short,†he answers.
–Let me have a look at it in the morning - I’m done mine.â€
–You mean later this morning,†he corrects me with a grin, and I smile in response. It’s terribly late, but I’m still not the least bit tired.
Now it’s my turn to look at the fire. Honestly, what's the matter with us? So maybe I like him. Does that mean I have to become a mute in front of him?
–How’s Transfiguration going for you?†he asks. I can’t help but groan at the thought. It’s the one class that give me no end of grief. He smiles at my response and says, –That well?â€
I can’t even find words to express how ‘well’ it’s going. He can tell how frustrated I am and offers his help, something I accept at once. Right now I need all the help I can get. No sense having the Head Girl fail so early in the school year.
Bending my knees more to bring my legs closer, I put my hands in my lap and lean sideways against the back of the sofa. Curling up this way always feels so comfortable. James must think so because he Conjures up a large blanket and covers both of our legs with it. I hadn’t even through to bring my wand down.
So this is how the game will end this time - with sweet gestures and nothing more. Is it enough, or will we always be wanting more?
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The Game by Secret Marauder 90
Chapter Endnotes: I've had this written down for a while and have only just decided to post it now. I hope you enjoyed it. And please take two minutes and leave a review, I'd love to hear what you thought!
Also, check out the sequel to this story, Wanting More.