A message in a firewhiskey bottle by Procrastinator-starting2moro

Rating: G
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Lily & James
Book: Lily & James, Books 1 - 6
Published: 21/02/2006
Last Updated: 21/02/2006
Status: In Progress

Can a message in a bottle really help you find your true 'fish' partner in the
'sea' of solitary? Lily is put to the test when she receives a message in a firewhiskey
bottle from across the Great Lake....LJ one shot.




1. One shot
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Disclaimer: I own nothing.

**Authors note**: Not so much of the romance, more of the drabble-ness. Fun with Kingsley,
and possibly ruining the romantic idea of receiving a message in a bottle. The poem is not mine by
the way. Please drop a review (preferably *not* dropped from a high height, or on my
head….accompanied with daggers…)

**A message in a firewhiskey bottle**

There was one *good* thing about Sunday afternoons for Lily Evans: less inevitable meetings
with James Potter. A little thing called classes and being in the same house as the *annoying
ponce* meant she had to acknowledge him on a daily basis, except for Sunday afternoons.

There was one *bad* thing about hot Sunday afternoons for Lily Evans: *sweaty
armpits*.

“Oh, Merlin,” Lily squeaked.

After much reddening in the face, she escaped to her dormitory for a new, *dry* shirt, and
reappeared in the common room a few minutes later, looking indifferent.

She had barely made it through Hogwarts oak doors and into the grounds when she discovered-

“Oh, for the love of...” Lily cursed, wafting her now slightly soggy blouse. She glared up at
the beaming sun and shook her fist- which a few passing first years witnessed with curious looks.
Clearly Lily thought she had some sort of excessive perspiration problem because dripping gallons
of sweat from your armpits was not considered ordinary.

After succumbing to actual blowing to her shirt to make the wet patches waterless, she gave up
with a “Sod it,” and continued her way to the Great Lake with her long red hair bobbing in her
steps.

Her hair had a habit of doing that; bobbing. It had been only yesterday when James had pointed
this out as endearing and Lily swiftly contemplated baldness. Her father was on the brink of
baldness; was it heredity for daughters too?

“Bobbing!” said Lily under her breath, shaking her head in annoyance. “I mean, honestly, my hair
does not bob like an apple floating in a tub of water at Halloween!”

She made her way across the grounds; ironically, her vibrant hair bobbing in her purposeful
steps.

Yes, Lily Evans had a purpose; a purpose to cool down from that large ball and star of plasma
that was currently being a big pain in her backside and giving her pit stains. She had planned to
find a large bazooka and shoot the sun out of the sky, but apparently Hogsmeade's shops were
out of stock of rocket powered weapons.

An idea had come to her; bizarrely. *Cooling down* associated with *water*.
*Water* associated with the *Great* *Lake*. Therefore, it was only logical to
*cool down* in the *Great Lake*!

It was only logical if you didn't think about it too much. Lily hadn't thought of it too
much; she had been busy changing blouses.

After humming to make any potential raging blackouts go away, Lily finally made it to the Great
Lake and shielded her eyes from the sun with her hand, looking oddly like a sailor on a ship.

Neatly, she slipped off her shoes and socks and put them to one side, and then began rolling up
the trouser legs of her drainpipe jeans to knee length. After some impressive folding, Lily dusted
her hands together to signal a job well done before sitting on the edge of the Lake, dipping her
legs into the water.

Lily let out a comforting sigh the second the cool water soaked her legs; so this was what cool
felt like. She leant back on her elbows, watching the Giant squid patter its tentacles.

She swung her legs rhythmically in the water, until suddenly she spotted something drifting
across the lake. She hitched up higher on her elbows to get a closer look at the object that oddly
seemed to be floating *towards her*.

It was a firewhiskey bottle.

Had people been littering *again*? And in the Great Lake of all places! Did Lily have to
invent floating bins just so people wouldn’t discard their sweet wrappers and empty bottles? Who
knew what trouble could have ensued if one of the Giant Squid’s tentacles got stuck in the
bottle!

*It hadn’t*, but if Lily thought about it hard enough it *became reality*.

Now sitting up, Lily watched as the firewhiskey bottle noticeably swerved right to avoid one of
the squid’s tentacle slap against the water; clearly this bottle was being controlled by magic.

Finally, the firewhiskey bottle reached her, and she looked down at with a peculiar expression
as it floated by her legs. Examining the object in the water, she noticed a small scroll of
parchment inside it.

So it wasn’t empty after all. So this meant it was a *message* in a *bottle*? How
*naff*.

At first she ignored it. Surely this bottle was not to her? She continued to swing her legs
metrically, and jumped when the bottle prodded her in the knee. She looked down at the object once
more, confused. Not retaliating against the prod because the prod was caused by a *bottle*,
she swayed her legs in the water, snubbing the object that was now continuously nudging her
knee.

She kept determinedly unresponsive until the impatient bottle gave a rather vigorous thump to
her knee camp; making her outcry with an “OW,” while her leg flicked up in response.

Enraged, Lily snatched the bottle from the water and strangled the neck of it tightly with her
fingers.

She quickly realised she was strangling the neck of a bottle and not a person, and lessened her
grip. Looking around, she tried to spot the sender of the bottle but found the grounds pretty
empty- except for an unknown group to Lily sitting on the opposite side of the lake, under the
beech tree. She tried to make out the students but the sun blinded her eyes whenever she looked in
that direction.

She sighed, then studied the bottle in her hand.

Should she open it?

“OPEN IT!”

Lily jumped out of her skin. Where had that voice come? She searched the grounds for a second
time, again looking at the other side of the lake, but that sun unsighted her all too familiarly
and she felt she’d damaged her eye’s retina enough for one day.

Giving in, she popped the cork and reached her fingertips inside the bottle mouth to pull out
the scrolled piece of parchment. She unrolled the note and began to read.

‘*Becoming, dapper gentleman who is exceptional in all fields of endeavour, huggable, enjoys
the outdoors, loves trampling on sandcastles during romantic walks on the beach, is inclined to
unlit dinners (less of the dinner, more of the friskiness in the dark) seeks woman of animal
magnetism with pizzazz. Respond or feel free to live a lifetime of utter misery.’*

What on earth…*dapper*? *Pizzazz*?…A lifetime of *utter misery*? If Lily was not
mistaken, this was some personal ad. A very cocky one, to put it cleanly as possible. But who was
it from?

‘*Becoming, dapper gentleman who is exceptional in all fields of endeavour…’*

Potter.

There was no mistaking it. It was that *annoying ponce* without a doubt. *She*
wouldn’t let him know that she knew who *he* was though. She’d play along.

Conjuring her quill, she turned the parchment over and scribbled a reply.

‘*Sorry. I’m afraid I do not fit such a* high *description. Perhaps you should lower your
expectations. I heard the moss under the rock sitting to my right would be interested in spousing
you. Never mind; there’s plenty more fish in the sea. Hopefully you might drown in it whilst
searching.’*

Smirking, Lily rolled up the parchment again and slipped it back into the bottle. She hurled it
back into the water, watching it quickly shoot off across the water- most certainly to the occupant
eagerly awaiting her reply.

Her ears perked at the sound of laughter and a boy’s outcry of “Shut up!” It had been barely
seconds before the bottle blasted across the water, creating small waves in the lake and weaving in
and out of the incoming tentacles. It prodded Lily's kneecap.

All over again, she popped off the cork and got out the response.

‘*Would you be my guppy, Lily?’*

She reread over the question…*five times*. *Guppy*? Wasn’t that a fish? Good grief,
what was that Potter ponce on?

‘*No. Sod off.’*

Simple and to the point, Lily thought, throwing the bottle into the lake again. There was the
recognizable wait where she lingered at the water’s edge for the bottle to the return; she wanted
to keep writing.

The bottle didn’t come back so swiftly the third time, and when the firewhiskey bottle floated
up to her; it seemed hesitant and didn’t even nudge her. Feeling slightly hesitant herself now, she
grasped the bottle and got out the message.

‘*Your soul is like the vastest sea
And mine a darting fish:
I lose myself within your love;
I live within your heart.’*

How completely *naff*….at least, that was what Lily was repeating sternly in her head as
she held the note with slightly shaky fingers, and wait-- her stomach was doing odd cart wheeling
without her consent.

*This was not good.*

Pushing back that *obvious stomach ache* from *food*, and *nothing else*, she
took her legs out of the lake water and stood to her feet. Clutching the empty firewhiskey bottle
in her hand, she made her way to the other side of the lake where that ‘unknown group’ sat under
the beech tree. Her bare feet - as she’d completely forgotten about her shoes and socks sitting
beside that moss-bottomed rock - crunched against the grass and her face flushed in what could be
guessed as embarrassment or annoyance.

When Lily finally made it to the area of the beech tree, the marauders looked more alert with
the arrival of a girl and James Potter stumbled to his feet, running a hand through his hair.

“Er…Lily!” he fumbled, though clearly delighted to be in her presence.

“Don’t ‘Er Lily’ me!” She thumped James’ shoulder with the empty firewhiskey bottle. “Stop
sending me bloody letters! I know you probably got Remus to write that last one.” She glared at the
light-haired boy who cowered in response.

James appeared clueless to the bottle being present and rubbed his arm painfully. “What are you
on about?”

Lily did not catch on to his obliviousness. “You’ve been sending me messages in a bottle,” she
stated, slowly, “It’s naff.”

Out of the blue, a tall and fellow student revealed himself from behind the beech tree with an
expression of really not wanting to be there.

“I sent the letter,” he declared, though with not much enthusiasm.

Lily would have jumped at the boy’s appearance, because, frighteningly, the boy scared him in
many ways; however, that would have been rude.

“Kingsley?” she said uncertainly. She looked at James who still seemed perfectly oblivious, and
back at the abnormally tall student. “You sent the letter, Kingsley?” she queried, with a tinge of
disappointment in her voice.

“Yes, Lola.”

“It’s Lily.”

“That’s what I said.”

There was much staring and silence where Lily remained very much bemused.

“Er…” She reddened, tucking stray strands of hair behind her ear which had loosened in her
earlier rage. “But…Kingsley…you don’t even fancy me,” she stated, “You find me a ‘tolerable red
head’. You’ve told me so.” As she gazed at the boy -with such a scary blank expression- her eyes
wandered to his bald head and a question flickered to her brain. “Is baldness hereditary for
daughters?” she blurted out, and gasped, quickly taking the enquiry back as she covered her mouth
in horror.

“I’m not bald. I shave my head,” he clarified.

Lily nodded, in fear. “Yes. Yes, you do. You shave your head. And you sent me this.” She
gestured to the bottle, and nodded, smiling nervously. James watched her with curiosity. “Well…I’ll
be leaving now.”

Before James could ask for the usual goodbye kiss -which was always declined- she shot off
towards the castle; barefooted and leaving her shoes by the lakeside.

James grinned, “Thanks, Kingsley.” He slapped the tall boy on the back. James muttered an “Ow”
as Kingsley’s back was rock solid and he rubbed his sore hand.

“I won’t waste my time with the polite Don’t-mention-it’s. So, I’ll just cut to the chase: hand
over my ten galleons,” Kingsley commanded.

James blanched. “Ten? I thought we agreed to five earlier! Plus you got her name wrong and did a
lousy job!”

Kingsley glared a hole through his head.

“I mean, here’s you ten galleons,” James handed the coins into Kingsley’s hand and shook it,
“Please don’t kill me or spit in my food.”

“I’ll think about it.” Kingsley pocked his money and beamed his first smile since the
conversation, walking back to the castle looking like the giant he was.

“Bye Kingsley!” Sirius waved energetically as he lolled across the grass. “And remember, my
earlier offer of lending you a toupee is always open!”

Kingsley didn’t even spin around to face Sirius. “So help me Merlin, I will hunt you down,
Black,” he warned the boy.

Remus shot his friend a worried look; wondering why Sirius looked so unfazed by such a murderous
comment.

“Kingsley loves me really,” Sirius beamed.

“Did your message-in-a-bottle plan work, Prongs?” Peter asked, pulling out grass and watching
the strands flutter to the ground.

James smirked a mighty, “Yes,” rubbing his chest.

Remus looked over his book with an absurd expression. “What makes you think that?” he asked, not
masking his confusion.

“I saw the notes I sent her kept safely in the back pocket of her jeans.”

Later that day, James collected Lily’s shoes and socks for his Lily-Evans shrine occupied in a
corner of the boys Gryffindor dormitory.

Lily asked for her shoes and socks back.

In compromise, James said he would exchange her shoes and socks in return for the notes she had
kept preciously in her trouser back pocket.

Lily told him he could keep the sodding shoes and shove it up his-

**--END--**