Little Love Notes

Disclaimer: Not my characters, except for the made-up Elisa. I have not yet published anything professionally (well, unless you count that poem in 8^th grade… I guess that counts), but will alert you all to when and I do. And when I do, I will add a little note that says IT'S ALL MINE! I'm alright.

Summary: Oh, I'm not really quite sure. I started this well before Christmas (couple months, I'm guessing) and I just don't know why I could never finish it. It has a plot, I guess, centered around some love notes that Lily and James share with each other. Pointless, fluffy, as all my writing is. Ah, the miracles of PWP! James/Lily shipping, naturally.

Little Love Notes

By Natali K. A.

Lily Evans sat in the middle of her Muggle Studies class, tapping the desk with her pencil—brought from home in order to take notes quicker (an odd muggle habit she'd retained that had at first freaked out the other students).

She wasn't paying attention to how Alexander Graham Bell of the Americas invented both the telegram and the telephone—mainly because she'd learned all that when she was seven and was probably more knowledgeable on the subject than the Muggle Studies professor.

She wasn't worried about the upcoming N.E.W.T. exams, just three months, one week, and two days away according to a calendar in the Gryffindor common room. She had better things to ponder, she felt, and didn't see the point of wasting valuable time fretting over exams when if she hadn't already learned it, she wasn't going to learn it. Period.

She wasn't concerned about Lord Voldemort, the raving lunatic who spent all his free time thinking of ways to torment innocent people—muggles and wizards alike. Lily also had a theory that he was trying to find a cure for homosexuality, as she was thoroughly convinced he was. It must be a real bother, really, to be gay when you're supposed to be this really scary bloke. Must detract from his image. But that was just speculation.

She was, however, totally distracted. It wasn't her fault though, and she'd stick with that story until the very end.

It was not her fault that James Potter looked absolutely dashing today or that he made the cutest faces when he wasn't paying attention. It was not her fault that she spent her days dreaming of their steamy private moments, when no one else was around.

It was his fault that he was in this class—why was he in this class to begin with?! He was dating a muggle-born witch and quite often visited said witch's parents. He knew about muggle life!

But then there was the question of why she—a muggle-born witch—would be taking a muggle studies class as well. And it was simply too difficult to explain.

“Miss Evans, would you care to enlighten us about your experiences with a banana hammock?”

“What? Why a banana hammock?” she asked stupidly. She always got called on for things like this, to share her “experiences” with muggle life.

“What is the purpose of one and how does it work?” the professor clarified.

Hadn't they been talking about bloody Mr. Bell and how he spent hours working on his invention because muggles were too stupid to figure out a way to communicate with each other quickly over long distances until 1876?

“Um, well… It holds bananas,” she muttered, shrugging. How exactly was she supposed to answer that?

Those in the class who knew what a banana hammock was and its function—in other words, everyone as they weren't complete twits—snickered.

The professor opened her mouth to ask another eager question when the bell rand her query was drowned out by the students' chattering.

“So, let me get this straight,” said a familiar, deep male voice to her right as she collected her belongings. “The purpose of a banana hammock is to… to hold bananas?”

“Dears, lock up when you leave,” the professor called out, closing the door behind her as she made her way down hurriedly to lunch.

Lily smiled up at James, standing so she could wrap her arms around his neck. “Yes, fancy that. That's exactly what it's for.”

He kissed the corner of her mouth, pulling her up against him.

“But then, what's going to hold my banana?” he whispered, kissing her again and even once more for good measure.

“James, not here,” she giggled, rolling her eyes. “This isn't some empty classroom we come across during Head rounds. Anyone could walk in.”

He groaned, placing his head in the nook between her neck and left shoulder. She was probably right—it'd be a terrible embarrassment to get caught doing what teenagers do best.

But that's what made it fun.

“Lils, come on,” he urged, pressing himself against her. He was hard and urgent already, and could not bear the thought of having to walk around for the rest of the day in this condition.

“James, please don't,” she begged, obligingly kissing him several times.

“Well, alright then. It's okay if you're scared,” James goaded her, knowing that if anything would make her change her mind, that would be it.

“Fine,” she snapped, pushing him against the other desk. “You want to be daring? You won't know what hit you when I'm through with you, Mr. Potter.”

“Is that a promise?” he purred. A wolfish grin spread across his face. That was the side of Lily that few people saw—the side he was most attracted to.

She nodded, wrapping her arms around him as she nestled herself between his legs. “First off, let's get rid of these offending articles of clothing, hmm?”

“Yes, sir!” he said with a cheeky grin, fingers already working on his tie. “But sir, aren't you going to join me?”

“Time enough for that,” she giggled, pressing her lips to the pulse on his throat. “I'm going to teach you a lesson first.”

*~*

Ah. This seems familiar, Lily thought as she was once again distracted by the very same distraction that had distracted her last time—even though they weren't even in the same room at the moment.

“Oi, Lily,” her mate Elisa hissed. “What's that paper jutting out of your book”

Lily looked curiously first at Elisa and then her book. And indeed, there was a slip of paper in between the pages of her Potions book—the one she was supposed to have been studying.

She took it out and opened it.

Do you have any idea how sexy you are with your hair down and out of that blasted bun you keep doing your hair in? It's then that your eyes sparkle most mischievously—when we're alone together, that is.

But I suppose I understand. It wouldn't do for students as well-known as us to suddenly get up and shag on tops of the desks just because I happened to see your hair down, now would it? Or if McGonagall suffered a heart attack when she found her two favorite students locked in a very fiery embrace?

No, not at all.

Worry not. I am enchanted with you nonetheless, even if my desire to shag you senseless cannot be complied on an hourly basis (though wouldn't it be fun to try?).

—J

Enchanted. Well, that was certainly most flattering. She smiled at the back of his head as he poured some newt brain into his bubbling potion. Thankfully, Elisa was taking care of the more difficult aspects of their potion—Lily was in no condition to pay attention.

“You're disgustingly in love, you know,” Elisa hissed, smacking Lily's knuckles as she almost poured in the wrong ingredients. “Oh, for heaven's sake, Lily! Just stand there and look as if you're paying attention so that Slughorn doesn't give us extra homework.”

“If you say so,” Lily smiled, wondering when James had had a chance to slip that little note into her book. Today? Or was this an old thing?

She knew, of course, that he had an unhealthy fascination with her hair. She often told him that she didn't think he'd date her if she cut off or dyed her hair. Whenever she dared to mention it, he would proceed to stick his fingers in his ears and start humming some random tune, without fail.

One day, she'd dare to cut off some of it—as it was getting terribly unmanageable at its current length at her waist—and see if he didn't dump her then and there.

Of course, she didn't really believe that, but he probably wouldn't be too happy about it all.

And on a whim—just to tease him—she gave a hearty sigh and took her hair out of its tight bun (the only way she could manage it). With a shake of her head, she turned to the potions book and decided to take a part in her assignment.

But the look of hunger on James Potter's face did not escape her. With a little smile, she thought, Yes, wouldn't it be fun…?

*~*

“You vixen,” James accused as he shut the door behind him. His eyes lit up when they caught sight of her glorious red hair spread across her pillow as she “innocently” read a book.

Too bad the book was upside down. If it hadn't been, perhaps he would have actually believed she was reading.

“One day, James Potter, you'll tell me how it is that you've managed to get up and down the girls' stairs all this time.”

“Getting down's easy. I slide.”

“Until then,” she continued as if she hadn't heard him, eyes still on her book, “I am going to read and finish this wonderful story.” A blush crept up her cheeks as it registered that the book was upside down. “Only me, you know,” she muttered and she righted it. “It never happens to anyone but me!”

“I knew you were gifted, Miss Evans, but I had no knowledge of your gift of reading upside down,” James taunted, sitting down on her bed. “Come on, it's time for dinner.”

“I refuse.” She stuck her nose in the air. “I'm reading.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “Very well. But I need some nourishment. Do you intend on coming down any time soon?”

“Nope. I'm not too hungry. Anyway, it's too cold.”

He rolled his eyes. She always froze to death, even when it was near to eighty degrees inside the castle.

“'Kay, sweetheart. We have Head duties tonight?”

“Nope. It's tomorrow. I switched with some Ravenclaw Prefects. Oh, by the way, there's something for you in my jewelry chest over there.”

He walked over and opened the chest to find a piece of folded up parchment with the words “To James” written in Lily's neat scrawl, so contrary to his own scratchy one.

With a pressed kiss to her temple, he walked out of her room and headed for dinner. He wouldn't read it until he was seated next to Remus, across from Sirius and Peter at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall.

To James, who has definitely added a certain spice to my life:

You think you're oh-so-sly, don't you? I'll find out when you managed to slip that little note into my Potions book, from Sirius or Remus. Or perhaps Peter, who has always been a bit of an invertebrate…

But I return the sentiment. I do feel it would be fun.

And, at the risk of inflating your already large head, I feel I should mention that I love the way you look at me whenever my hair is down. You make me feel like the only woman in the world—and isn't that always a nice feeling to have?

You are my James, and I love you for it.

—L

James smiled, ignoring the queries of his best mates. They only asked to bug him about it. They knew exactly who that slip of parchment was from and what it likely stated. After all, Remus and Sirius had helped him plot a way to nick Lily's book from her yesterday so that he could insert his little note.

“What do we steal next?” Sirius asked in a thoroughly bored voice. “Transfiguration or Charms?”

“I'm disappointed with you, Padfoot,” James pouted, shaking his head and taking a sip of his pumpkin juice. “Since when have the Marauders had to redo a prank? Well, it's not exactly a prank, but I'm sure we can come up with something new, don't you think?”

Remus grinned. “Ah, I have an idea…”

*~*

Lily was usually the first of her roommates to awaken, so when she awoke to the sounds of intense sneezing, she was rather surprised.

“I'm so sorry, guys,” Elisa sneezed, sounding thoroughly congested. “I'll get out so you can”—another sneeze—“get back to sleep.” Two sneezes in succession.

“What on earth?” Lily mumbled, sitting up and squinting in dark of her curtained bed. “Whatsamatta, Elisa?” she yawned.

“Roses! Bloody, infernal roses! Ah-choo!”

“Roses?” Lily asked, rubbing her eyes. She thrust her curtains aside to find that there were, indeed, roses.

Lots of roses. In fact, she herself was covered with them. Or rose petal, anyway. Somehow, someone had managed to sprinkle her bed and her covers and her pillow and her head with rose petals, as well as position at least a dozen bouquets around her area of the dormitory.

“My heavens,” she breathed, carefully climbing out of bed all while trying not to disturb the arranged flowers. “Isn't he a dream?!”

“I take it that's rhetorical?” one of her roommates, Rebecca, snapped sleepily. “Because of your charming boyfriend, Elisa's been sneezing like mad for nearly half an hour.”

“Sorry, mate,” Lily giggled. “I don't think he knew about your allergy to most flowers.”

“If he did, he's most certainly trying to do away with me as to have you all to himself,” Elisa joked, slipping on her shoes. She sneezed four times in a row, having to pause in the act of tying her trainers. “Mate, it's a lovely sentiment, but I'd truly appreciate it if this didn't”—sneeze—“occur again.” She sneezed again, looking truly miserable. “See you in class.”

Lily suppressed a laugh as Elisa sneezed her way out of the room. It was then that her emerald orbs alighted on a little paper in the bouquet nearest her bed.

She sighed contentedly. “Yes, devilish little thing, aren't you?”

“Who in blazes are you chattering with, Evans!” another of her roommates shrieked. Christina was notorious for her cranky mood in the morning. “Shut the bloody fuck up, Evans! Or get out!”

Lily smiled, knowing that Christina didn't really mean it. She sat back on her bed and eagerly opened the note.

Hello and good morning, my love.

Some roses, for the prettiest flower in all of Britain. (I had, for a moment, contemplated lilies, but I felt that was a little too corny even for lovesick fools such as us.)

I will take you up on your offer to try some of this so-called “fun” and look forward to our further consorting, O darling mine.

In all seriousness, I have so far enjoyed our little fling and shall await a reply from my lady.

I leave you, as always, entranced by your siren's smile.

—J

(One day, I'll sign with some other letter, and I'll see what you'll do. I often wonder if I really do have you all for myself or if you have some other foolish bloke tucked away in some secret harem somewhere. Perhaps it's better I don't know?)

Lily shook her head. What a fool. She was in love with an utter fool. How fortunate for her.

*~*

There was a knock on the door to McGonagall's office as James sat there, discussing his plans for the future. He'd done this once in his Fifth Year, and now again in his Seventh. What joy.

“Enter,” the professor said tersely, annoyed at having been interrupted.

Lily stuck her head in. “Professor, I'm so sorry to intrude, but could I give James something for Head duties?” She inwardly smiled at how terrible she was being, for the absolute fun of it.

“Go ahead, Miss Evans. And then I would appreciate it if you would allow us to finish our discussion.”

“Yes, of course, Professor. It's just imperative that he read it this instant,” Lily explained, handing James a piece of parchment. “I'll speak with you later, James.” She walked out and left them alone.

McGonagall glared at him as James read through it, thinking some cranky thoughts about students who shared positions of authority as couples. It should not be allowed. Never mind that she usually liked the sort of relationship that Evans and Potter shared.

“Are you quite done, Mr. Potter?” she snapped. “Or should we reschedule?”

James shifted uncomfortably as he folded up the paper and stuck it in his pocket. He was sure he was blushing—though McGonagall didn't believe it, as James Potter was not one to blush—and it would not be an ideal time for her to ask him to rise for whatever reason.

Damn Lily.

“Right, now about your qualifications…”

To James Potter, on official Head business,

You had poor Elisa sneezing with your roses—she's very allergic, you know—but it was a very sweet sentiment and a very nice way to wake—if a bit ruined by the sneezing and complaining of my fellow roommates.

I feel that I should thank you for choosing roses over lilies, as A) yes, that would be too corny for the likes of even us, and B) they're more potent to poor Elisa, whose eyes have been watering for quite a few hours now.

James Potter, if after all this time—and all the things we've done (and all the places)—you still believe this is a silly, mere fling, you have got quite an argument headed your way. I expect a complete apology, written and… in French! Yes! French! And don't tell me you don't speak French, because Sirius assured me that you do. However, Italian is also acceptable.

You write me off as some sort of seductress, Circe of the wizarding world. How exactly should I take that? Well, I suppose it's a bit of a compliment, isn't it, coming from one of the biggest womanizers known to man? As women both young and old, wrinkly and smooth still fall at your feet when you but smile at them, I do believe I'll take that as a compliment.

(And how nice to be the only one who can send you to your own knees…)

But honestly, what would I do if you signed with a different letter? I'd know it was still you (or one of your friends playing a prank of some queer sort), and I know your writing. Both in form and manner that you speak. That's why I love getting notes from you—you manage to infuse them with the same humor you yourself have.

And trust me. You are the only one who has my heart. I don't think it's fair that you get to worry if I have another lover, when you're the one who's notorious for holding down five girlfriends at one time. Humph. I love you.

—Circe

*~*

James' response to Lily's letter, given to Lily while she was taking a shower in the bathroom (and yes, perhaps he did have the audacity to climb in with her!):

Lily,

Terribly sorry about Elisa and her allergies. I'll make a mental note not to use flowers around her. I've already apologized and taken her some medicine from Madam Pomfrey. I think she feels much better.

Could I possibly apologize verbally? I can't write French or Italian to save my arse. It's the best I can offer you. Otherwise, you'll have to deal with English. I also speak gibberish, though I don't think that you do. Oh, I made a funny! (I can just picture you right now, glaring and rolling your pretty green eyes at me.)

Ah, Circe indeed… I hadn't seen the likeness until you pointed it out. Reincarnated, do you suppose? And I'm sure you love it that you're my only weakness, hmm?

Now I need to find myself the name of some roguishly handsome Greek god. Know of any?

Yes. I love you, too. More. I love you more.

—J

*~*

A/N: Ok, this was finished just three minutes before Valentine's Day was over. I'm always late, so it's perfectly on time, yeah? Thanks. Oh, this changed too. It was supposed to be something else, but the plot changed. Whatever. I've had it for months and I'm tired of seeing it in my documents. Shoo!

All my love—and review as a valentine to me!

NKA

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