A/N: Written in response to the wildly popular "She Looked at Me." Not a sequel, but an alternate version of a really cute one-shot. Originally titled 'He Looked at Me', but I decided against it and the latter is more fitting. Lily's pov, please read and review!!!!!!!! :- )
You Called Me Lily
He looked at me.
Granted, I catch him looking at me every day, but this time it was different. It wasn't a cocky look or an 'I'm going to get you in to bed with me' look; it was a look of…sweetness.
I took my quill and brushed it against my cheek, in what I hoped was a seductive manner, and set my gaze sharply to the left, catching just a glimpse of dark, disheveled hair. Inclining my head ever-so-slightly in his direction, I caught his eye and quickly turned away, feeling the heat rise rapidly to my cheeks.
Oh, curse this crimson hair of mine. The faintest blush and my complexion compares to that of a tomato. When blondes and brunettes blush they look quite dazzling, a cute tinge of rose that complements their dainty features, off-setting the auspiciously neutral color of their hair.
Not me. Since when does red go with anything? We can't wear pink, or any pastel for that matter, and we burn to a crisp in the sun, freckles blossoming with every ray of ultraviolet radiation. (If I had said the latter two words to any of the people in this room they would've looked at me as if I'd grown two heads, which sadly would've been more normal than saying the words in the first place).
At any rate, I finally managed to conceal my flush and continued scribbling on my parchment, trying to soak in every word spewing from McGonagall's mouth. But it was just so hard to concentrate when a pair of deliciously hazel eyes were searing into the back of your head, causing your blush to make an ardent reappearance.
'Deliciously' hazel? I did not just think that, especially when they belong to an incredibly arrogant prat by the name of James Potter. Oh, how I despise him. He struts around the place like a rooster, ruffling his jet-black feathers every other minute of the day. Winking at me like the cheeky little wanker that he is.
Then why do I care so much that he's watching me?
I don't know how he came to be Head Boy, going 'round hexing Slytherins under every breath and snatching that stupid snitch of his that whizzes all over the corridors. His juvenile posse has been the bane of my existence, electing me the target of eighty-four percent of their pranks, give or take a fraction. Every morning at the breakfast table I can expect to find a dragon bogey in my eggs or fizzing whizbees in my pumpkin juice.
And everything is always 'Evans.' Evans this and Evans that. I have a first name you know. I'm not merely a surname walking around without a predecessor, doomed to roam the earth as simply Evans. I'm not Cher you know. Again, another muggle reference only I would get. I'm surprised I haven't been stoned to death as an outcast, finishing my studies as the fifth ghost of Hogwarts. Heaven forbid I solve a math problem, then I'd really be in for it.
Oh, except for Myrtle, but we won't get in to that.
And Professor Binns, but he doesn't really count…
Oh, whatever, I'd be a ghost- you get the point!
At that moment I felt a distinct pain radiating from beneath my ribcage, causing me to snap out of my recession. Apparently Alice, sitting promptly to my right, had nudged me in the ribs (sixteen times I later learned- is that possible? Can someone really have an elbow stabbed in their sternum sixteen times before realizing it? I think she's exaggerating, but that's another story entirely…).
Anyway, if Potter wasn't looking at me before, he certainly was now- as was the rest of the N.E.W.T. level transfiguration class. Alice looked at me with bulging blue eyes, rapidly darting back and forth between my green ones and her parchment. What was that supposed to mean?
"Miss Evans (see, Evans again. Does no one know I have a name???) I will not repeat it again. Would you kindly answer my question?"
My jade green eyes widened in terror as I snapped my head towards Alice, searching her plump face for an answer. She merely shrugged at me, raising her brows and lifting the corner of her mouth in an apologetic manner, quickly returning her attention back to the front of the room.
What a lot of help you are! I've saved your arse loads of times and you can't bail me out once? Oh, Frank is going to hear about this…
"Miss Evans, we're waiting…" McGonagall said in the sharpest of tones. She looked at me with stone cold eyes, her arms crossed in impatience.
"I can help her out, professor. You see, the box turtle, the majestic creature that it is, has only sixteen squares on the apex of its shell, whereas the snapping turtle, in all its swampy glory, has twenty-two. Isn't that right, Evans."
I could've killed him. Right then and there. If Alice hadn't had a death grip on my wand arm he would've been toast in an instant. Then I'd feed him to that glorified swampy snapping turtle.
"Well, Potter, I'm sorry to inform you that that is, indeed, incorrect. The wood turtle has sixteen squares, ideal for transforming into tea kettles, not the majestic box-as you so delicately put it."
"No, Evans, I'm fairly certain green turtles are ideal for tea kettle transformations, the box turtle more adept for plates and silverware."
"I beg to differ! Leatherback turtles are best suited for forks and knives and spoons, considering they don't even have a shell at ALL, Potter."
"Actually, the-"
"ENOUGH!! That is quite enough from both of you. Mister Potter and Miss Evans can finish their invigorating turtle discussion after class, in detention, might I add. As for the rest of you-"
At this point the bell rang for dismissal and a rather worn-looking professor threw her hands up in exasperation, releasing an audible groan of frustration.
"Everyone out!" she barked, mechanically pointing at the door. "Not you two," she added as she stared me straight in the eye, looking rather vulture-like in my opinion.
I can't believe she gave me a detention. Me! Head Girl of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. What was she thinking? Granted, I wasn't paying the least bit of attention, but still. It's all Potter's fault. Correcting me and using my surname like that. He knows exactly how to push my buttons, and I think he enjoys it.
"Now, I want the pair of you to scrub these tea kettles lining the wall; the fourth years will be arriving to turn them into-" she pursed her lips and rolled her eyes, letting out a deep sigh, "turtles… in an hour. Not a hint of magic, do you understand?"
We both nodded our heads- I assumed Potter nodded because I was still refusing to look at him, but she left muttering something like 'teenage angst' under breath, so I guessed he articulated that he understood. How anything gets through that thick head of his is beyond me.
I turned without a word and daintily picked up a filth ridden kettle, covered in years of slime and ooze. As many detentions as Potter and his marauders have gotten you'd think these things would already be spotless. I held it between my thumb and forefinger, holding it as far away from my body as I possibly could. How could a tea kettle stink?
I heard a chuckling voice behind me; apparently I was being watched again by the Potter prat. I give one slinky look back in seven years' time and this is what it gets me?
"You know you don't have to act so high and mighty all the time. I could've answered that question myself you know."
"Ha! You're one to talk- and I was doing you a favor today, Evans. If anything you should be grateful."
"Grateful for what? You landing me in detention?"
"Well if that pretty little mouth of yours would just stay shut sometimes we wouldn't have a problem now, would we?"
"You insufferable prat! McGonagall didn't call on you to answer, no one asked for your input on the matter."
"You didn't even know what the matter was! Your mind was as far from here as Azkaban-"
"How would you know? You should have been paying attention to the lesson and not the back of my head-"
"Well, Lily, I was sure paying attention to it far better than you were, consideri-"
"What did you call me?"
"What? I didn't call you anything, I said, 'I was sur-"
"No, you called me Lily…"
"Well that is your name, isn't it? I've only been scribbling it on the corners of my parchment for four years now and th- mmmmmmph"
But he didn't have time to finish. I was across the room in a flash, covering his mouth with mine. Why did I do it, who knows? I just did. Impulse really isn't in my vocabulary, but neither has been kissing James Potter in a classroom full of dirty tea kettles.
We stayed like that for quite some time, his warm lips sending chills up and down my spine with every passing moment. I reveled in the sweetness of the kiss, the pure delight of his tongue tangling with mine. I wrapped my hands around his loosened tie, pulling him closer to my wanting mouth. I felt his hands delicately trace the curves of my back, stopping finally to intertwine his fingers in my mane of strawberry hair.
After what seemed like hours we finally came to, my face surely taking on its now frequent 'tomato-like' appearance. He grinned at me that famous Potter grin, and softly swept a crimson curl hanging above my brow, gently tucking it behind my ear. My green eyes crinkled and, for the very first time, I gave him a genuine happy smile.
"Alright, Lily?" he said with a wink, taking my hand in his.
I blushed at this and turned away, glancing back with twinkling eyes, "You can call me Evans."
A/N: Just a ficlet I wrote to take a break from my chapter fic, "Strangers in the Night." I like doing one-shots better than anything else : ) Anyway, hope you liked it!!! Please review, lemme know what you think!! <3