This is set around the end of Lily and James' sixth year. Enjoy.
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"Hey, um, Evans, can I ask for your help"
I knew who it was before I even turned around. It was Potter. But his voice sounded different, so out of place. He was nervous. I couldn't refuse to help someone, even bullying toe-rags, especially when they seemed nervous and desperate. I spun on my heel to face him and raised an eyebrow (A hard feat to pull off, which quite proudly, not many other people can do)
"Sure, ask away" I said, hoping my voice didn't sound to falsely cheery. Just because I'm considering helping him doesn't mean that I enjoy it. And being in such close proximity to the cocky git might just be contagious; my head might start to grow fat and I could be ruffling my hair. How Potter was in love with his hair…
He began speaking again, but his words were too quick and drawn together. I barley understood that he was speaking English.
"You-see-I-have-this-pretty-big-assignment-for-muggle-studies.
We-have-to-interview-a-bunch-of-muggleborns-and-ask-stuff-like-what-it-was-like-for-people-exhibiting-magical-
tendancies-to-grow-up-believing-you-muggles-and-what-muggle-kitchen-appliance-you-miss-the-most-and…"
Okay, that was weird. Where had Oh-So-Suave Mr. Potter gone? Maybe he just really didn't like me and wanted to spend as least time with me as he possibly could, which is why he was talking fast. He must've wanted to get that assignment thing over pretty quickly..
It took me more than a moment to comprehend what Potter was saying. He wore an awkward expression that I had never seen on him before and it really didn't look good. Oh shit, I've been staring at him. I hope against hope that he didn't notice. But he already had. My cheeks tinged with embarrassment and turned pink (Which probably clashed horribly with my hair… damn! I thought I was over that let down of being a red-head)
He started talking again, this time slowly and deliberately, "Well Evans, you don't have to spend any time with me. It's cool. But could I put your name on top of the interview? I can make it up easily. We just need the names of Muggleborn student's to show that we actually conducted the interviews."
It finally dawned upon me what Potter was saying. He was in Muggle Studies, I wonder why? Not all too many people at Hogwarts are at all interested in Muggles (unless it's to poke fun at them) and much less take a class and actually learn about them. None of my close friends took the class. And they were probably all up in our dorm now, gossiping, laughing and having the time of their lives. Without me. Yeah, I was still in the library studying my ass off for a small test tomorrow in Ancient Runes. Well, Just about everyone in 6th year was studying like no tomorrow…even the Marauders (Potter and his friends, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew). In fact, they have been in the Library more this year than in their first five years at school (Although Sirius haughtily complained about this and said that he had quite a brilliant mind, that was going to suffer from hours of boredom. Prat.).
Maybe that's why I was so shocked between this little conversation occurring between Potter and I. It felt weird talking to him in the library of all places. I smiled though; "Mr. I'm So Brilliant" needed MY help in a subject I didn't even take. The urge to laugh was bubbling in my throat, but I quickly shoved it down and plastered an even brighter smile on my face.
"Of course I'll help you Potter. Do you want to sit up the back? It isn't as crowded there. I think we've only got half an hour before Pince closes the library…"
I don't know whether it was my words or my smile (Yeah, I just like helping people, even gits, it's just my nature. My friends complain to me about "playing the hero" though…) that calmed him down a bit. I swear I could so noticeably see him relax- his stiff shoulders slouched down a little more, the creases in his forehead were ironed out by a cocky grin, and he looked kind of… happy? Oh God, I'm staring again. At least he had some grace not to mention it. I was embarrassed and felt blood rush to my face. I turned away from him and began walking to a quiet little table up at the back of the Library, while urging for my face to turn back to it's normal pale colour.
Thankfully my face cooled down a bit by the time we reached that desk. I sat down lazily and so began the interview.
With a quill and parchment that he must have conjured out of thin air, or more likely transfigured, he began to jot down some notes. I HADN'T EVEN STARTED YET AND HERE HE WAS JOTTING DOWN NOTES! It was suspicious, what if this was some sort of elaborate, sick prank? So I began frantically craning my head (Yes, a very Petunia-like quality, but hey, we ARE sisters) to see some signs of his little Marauders, fireworks, buckets of frog spawn… so typical of James ruddy Potter, to lead me on and make me feel all safe and then WHAM! The biggest prank of all time on Lily Evans, the most accomplished sucker of all time.
"Where are your friends?" I spat, a touch too irritably.
He just looked at me incredulously, as if he didn't know what I was on about. He had some nerve. "In our dormitory, where more normal people are this late" And then he just had to go and reflexively shoot me a charming grin. Yes it was charming, although would never admit that to anyone. I'm a teenage girl with all sorts of intense hormones and Potter, despite being a cocky toe-rag, was quite easy on the eyes.
I was subdued by that little comment he made, but my suspicion hadn't entirely died. I cleared my throat prettily that meant fairly clearly "Well, lets get on with it then".
"Mhm, okay, before you got your letter to Hogwarts and found out about the magical world, how did it feel being a muggle?"
He said that all in a monotone voice, as he was reading of the piece of parchment in front of him. He dipped his quill in some ink, and leaned forward on one elbow…as if he was actually interested in what I had to say. I scoffed at the thought. But still I had to reply truthfully; it was his assignment after all.
"I felt like I was a right little oddball, really. I was weird, strange things happened around me. I knew it and other people knew it too. People avoided me."
It felt awkward to voice these thoughts that I'd held in for so long. I hadn't spoken to anyone at Hogwarts about this, or anyone for that matter.
Potter looked bewildered and stuttered out "But EVERYONE likes you, even some Slytherins. And that's saying a lot. You've got heaps of friends"
"Well, before I came to this school I didn't have any friends. Like I said, I was weird, and everybody knew it. But my family never mentioned it, and kids at school never did…but that was because they were scared of me. The lot of them just stayed the hell away from me. I think they could tell that there was something different about me."
I felt so relieved and yet so bad saying all this, it was as though I was re-living all the taunts and bullying that happened to me before Hogwarts. I hate bullying, knowing it first-hand, which is why I always stick up for those who are being teased and hurt.
Potter looked thoughtful "do you mind if I use that? That last part… for future reference. Not personal use- just muggle studies."
He answered the question in my eyes without me even having to speak it.
"Next Question, how did you feel when you and slash other persons close to you, for example family, feel when finding out you were a witch? Were they surprised, question mark, happy, question mark." He continued in that monotone voice that showed he was reading the question directly off his parchment.
"Erm, well, I was ecstatic. My parents were proud of me and they were happy to `have a witch in the family' (I did my best impersonation of Mum's voice). My sister didn't like it. Yet then she would have hated it more if I stayed… and ruined her chances at popularity, ruined her life.."
I couldn't even finish my sentence; I was really sensitive about my relationship with my bitch of a sister. Only a handful of people knew I had a sister. I just liked to forget her at school. I just got so wound up when I was talking about her, and how she cared more about complete strangers than me. I had to blink back tears threatening to escape from my eyes. Not in front of Potter, I would not cry in front of him, I would not…
Something unexpected happened. A large warm hand was covering mine. And I opened my eyes, which I hadn't realized were closed. I barely had the time to take in his hand in his, a very romantic gesture, because he was boring into eyes with a piercing hazel gaze.
"A lot of people fear and shun great things that they just don't understand." Then he added softly "you shouldn't worry about it"
He looked as though he had told the very same thing to people many times. I wondered whom?
I think it was then he realized the intimacy in the way he was holding my hands and looking at me. He drew back quickly, muttered a "sorry" that was uncalled for, and plunged right back into asking questions.
He must have found me so repulsive that he couldn't even look me in the face.
"Would you prefer being a witch slash wizard or a muggle? If you had more of a choice that is"
I scoffed aloud "That is the most stupid question I have ever heard! Of course being a witch is better than being
an odd little muggle girl. It's like choosing between a
Treacle tart and a plain biscuit… but then again, with the threat of Lord Voldemort maybe it would be better to be left
in the dark?"
Why was I thinking about food? And comparing treacle tart, the best food imaginable, to biscuits? That was possibly the stupidest thing I have ever said. And I say so many rash and stupid things.
But Potter just flashed me a grin and went on with his questions "What muggle kitchen appliance and slash or gadget that may use eckeltricity do you miss the most?"
I put my hand under my chin, as though I was deliberating the answer seriously.
"My favourite kitchen appliance would have to be an oven because it makes beeping noises. My favourite kitchen
gadget is my Mum- the kitchen slave who uses the oven to cook me treacle tart."
I wonder if he even knew I was taking the Mickey out of him. Judging by the look on his face (Brows furrowed and mouth twisted like he had just eaten 2 year old treacle tart) he didn't. I giggled, because the look on his face was absolutely priceless. He cracked a relied grin at my whacked sense of humour. But, muggle kitchen appliances? That's even stupider than the stuff I come out with.
"So you don't use your Mother as a house elf then? Because that would be bloody sick"
"No" I replied, yawning while rolling my eyes.
He clued into the yawn rather quickly and said, "You're tired. Let's get back to the common room". It sounded more like an order than a question, but I was too tired to care.
I occurred to me that I hadn't had to yell at him about anything. We were actually getting along, the toe-rag and I. Inwardly; I was gaping like a goldfish. I guess I would have to wait until tomorrow, when he was a jerk again. Speaking of tomorrow, did Potter ask all of his questions?
"That's cool. But did you want to finish your questions Potter? You can charm my eyes open for a little, if you need this done by tomorrow."
"Nah, I'll just have to steal you away some other time"
We stood up in unison, and I realised how dark it was in the library. The only light being shed was that coming out of Potter's wand (He must have used "lumos" when I wasn't watching)
We dashed madly for the door, hoping it hadn't been closed. It was worse than closed. Locked. Probably thanks to some pranksters gallivanting through the school at night.
"Oh fuck" I spat as I pounded my fists against the door.
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A/N This is pretty much a one-shot unless someone wants me to extend it. All types of reviews are welcome.
My inspiration for this story was from actually doing this sort of question thing in class, except the questions were different and we had to interview people of different nationalities… I learned so much of Sophie my newfound White/Caucasian friend, who taught me how much red-heads blush.
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