Sitting In A Scottish Dorm Room

carondelet

Rating: G
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Lily & James
Book: Lily & James, Books 1 - 4
Published: 24/02/2005
Last Updated: 24/02/2005
Status: paused

[paused indefinitely]I am going to be a complete blouse and not give this to you, Lily. It's beyond embarrassing.

Chapters

1. Waiting For The Sun

1. Waiting For The Sun

Rating: PG for mild language

Title: Sitting In A Scottish Dorm Room

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters, settings, and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling as published by, including and not limited, to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. The use of these characters and settings is for entertainment purposes only; no infringement is intended or should be inferred.

Spoiler Alert: None, but I went with a default of Books 1—5.

Summary: I am going to be a complete blouse and not give this to you, Lily. It's beyond embarrassing.

Pairings: James/Lily

Author's Notes: This is a continuation of “Parchment Scroll Writer”. I’m not certain how often I will update this, or how long it will continue, but it will be something of a (hopefully) interesting and humorous and …fluffy experiment. Tracey and Pavarti_Patil gave me the bunny for this one. I have named him Roy. Sorry, I am on day two of a migraine and I am at work. o.O

_________________________________________________________

SITTING IN A SCOTTISH DORM ROOM

[] OR, WAITING FOR THE SUN

_________________________________________________________

You asked me to write something for you.

I must admit, Lily, I am not certain of what to write.

So, I am just putting my thoughts to the page. I hope that this will suffice.

I find that I am...too excited to hold a thought in my head, let alone a story or even the framework of a story. I can scarcely hold the quill steady in my hand. My penmanship has never received high-marks; I do hope you can read this...

I might be a total blouse and not give this to you, but I shall try my best. I am a Gryffindor after all. I am supposed to have courage.

Supposed to.

I was surprised, but, mostly, relieved when you told me that you knew I was Beatrix Jacobs. I had wanted to tell you. I’ve wanted to tell you for ages now. Truthfully, I’ve wanted to tell you since I figured out my nom de plum. I wanted to know what you thought of it. I wanted to know what you thought of the stories, even though they were that damn floss. I just didn't have that world-famous Gryffindor courage in me to even dare to try before today. If Sirius, Peter, and Remus hadn't nicked my scroll, I'm not sure I ever would have screwed up the nerve to say anything.

It had started out as a diversion. Most of what I write tends to be a bit...beastly, as I said. Truly, some of it I might be a bit embarrassed to show to you, but only because I would be...afraid of what you'd think of me it. Some of my works can be rather dark. That's not to say that I am that dark on the inside (perhaps sometimes I am), it's just expurgation. It's how I cope.

This is terribly embarrassing. I am a bit at a loss.

I'm so excited, so thrilled, so relieved, so happy...you're going to think I am nutters, I just know it.

But...you must have realised, Lily, that I fancy you.

I've been writing floss for Merlin's sake.

I do fancy you. This is a bit permanent, eking my feelings out on parchment, but I am a Gryffindor. Solider on, cheerio, stiff upper lip, whatnot. Oh, Lily, I fancy you terribly. I've fancied you for the longest time. I know that you've viewed me as Jamie the Chaser, Prongs the Marauder, Potter the Prat, and that is how I've cultivated those aspects of my personality. Despite the Sorting Hat's pronouncement, I am deadly afraid. Afraid of someone knowing the real me. No, not knowing the real me, but in knowing the real me and not liking me. I am desperately terrified of that prospect.

I am desperately terrified that you don't fancy me.

But...you do. Don't you? You did kiss me, right on the lips, I remember that quite clearly, I shall never forget that, not even when I am dead. Blimey, you had pumpkin juice at Lunch. I think I love pumpkin juice now.

I came very close to giving the lesser Prewett a cuff to the konk. I couldn't believe you were going out with him. Nothing personal against Fabian, but...well, he wasn't me. I wasn't him. And I couldn’t stand that. I just…I know that breaking up with him wasn’t easy for you – that’s why I stuck with the floss, and tried to make it all the sweeter and the lighter for you, so you’d have that to look forward to. I tried to make Beatrix Jacobs the sappiest spinner of candyfloss on the planet.

Did you know then that I was her? That she was me? That we are all together?

I don't make any sense right now.

You don’t think Macca or John are going to come after me for that bit, do you?

Oh, Merlin, why did you have to kiss me? All I can think of right now is that kiss. How you just marched right up and...your lips are so pink...so soft...so pumpkiny. Merlin, you are so beautiful. Your hair is like the sun; your eyes are like the purest emeralds…

Bloody hell, that was floss, wasn’t it?

I am going to be a complete blouse and not give this to you, Lily. It's beyond embarrassing.

I should jump off of the Astronomy Tower. Without my broom.

I’m a writer, for Merlin’s sake. A writer. It’s what I do. It’s who I am. So why I can’t I write properly?

I am besotted.

Love makes you barmy.

Grief, I wrote that.

The Word.

I’m not supposed to say that. Not now. Not yet.

I am not giving you this, Lily. I’m sorry, but I simply cannot.

I shall have to avoid you now. If I looked in your eyes, I would be unable to deny you.

Why do I keep writing things like that?

No only do you have to put up with my horrid penmanship but now you have to put up with all of these ink blots and marks and…

I thought I wasn’t going to give this to you.

Perhaps I could transfer out of Hogwarts. I shall have to speak with Professor McGonagall and Headmaster about this. I think there is someplace in France I could go to. That would not be too bad.

Who am I kidding. I couldn’t get five yards out of Hogwarts without dying. I’m nothing without you. I pretend that I am someone, something special, but in truth I’m not. You make me better than who I am, than what I am. You make me the man I want to be.

This is pathetic. You must think me to be pathetic. Or barmy. I’m not unstable, I promise you, I am mostly harmless. You can ask Rosier or Regulus or Rabastan or Antonin. By rights I should have hexed the lot of them into next month, but I haven’t. Well, yes, I have pulled a prank here and there, but nothing in the ranks of what Sirius or Remus have done.

Ignore that.

See, we are doomed. You’d never prank someone. You’re much too nice, too kind. I’m a prat. A wally, a git, and a prat. It’s hopeless. I’m hopeless.

I’m not giving this to you.

I promised I would give you something.

You told me to write what was on my mind.

Right. Gryffindor. Courage. Lion-hearted. Chaser. Quidditch. Courage. I need some Firewhiskey.

Ignore that.

I can’t say that I hope that you will like this, but I do hope that you will understand it. Merlin knows I certainly don’t.

Love,

Like,

With fondest regards,

Sincerely yours,

Please write back, even if to tell me to bugger off,

James

†