Giving Up

He would give up on her one of these days.

No, really, he would.

Not because his friends teased him for having a crush on her since fourth year. He knew it was all in jest, and he had actually got used to it. No; it was because of her. Only her.

James turned around and stole a glance at her. She didn't seem to notice; she was immersed in her homework, between books, pieces of parchment and other writing supplies. Her quill was making soft creaking sounds as she wrote. Her hand ran so quickly on the parchment, and yet he was sure that, were he to take a look, he'd see that lovely handwriting again. He couldn't grasp how she did it; he could spend a century on each letter, and it would still come out as barely more than a scrawl. A legible scrawl, granted, but still a scrawl.

His eyes returned to the fire burning in the fireplace in front of him, and he wondered whether it was pathetic that it reminded her of her hair. He decided that it was, especially since her hair was a darker shade of red. Then he realised that this kind of observation was only appropriate for girls ("It's not 'red', it's magenta!") and that it couldn't possibly be healthy for a boy like him to be caught with these thoughts in his head.

He sighed, and his eyes fell to the crimson - no, red - carpet. He loved everything about her, but there was just no hope. After all this time, it was quite clear. It was true that "Not in a million years!" had been replaced by "I don't think it would be a good idea, but thanks for asking," but it was still no. If she wasn't interested in him by now, there was no reason to believe she would be, someday. It was better to give up on her, before...

...Before what, really? He had already humiliated himself enough by asking her out in various ways, once almost pleading with her, and she still hadn't agreed to it. It wasn't like there was anything much more embarrassing he could have done.

...He'd have to try not to say that in front of Sirius, because he'd surely come up with something James was better off not pondering.

His gaze had slowly drifted back to the fire, when the creaking of her quill stopped. James didn't move, but listened intently. He could hear her put down her quill, close her books and stuff them in her bag. Her chair was pulled back, and then... footsteps. Footsteps that were approaching him.

"Hey, James."

He looked up. She was now standing by the sofa he had been sitting in. "Hey, Lily."

"Why are you still up?"

He shrugged. "I couldn't sleep. You?"

"Oh, I was just finishing my Arithmancy essay. I like doing my homework here, when everybody's asleep. It's... quiet."

"The library's always quiet," James pointed out.

"Yeah, but... that quiet's forced, you know? It's just because Madam Pince won't let anyone talk. Here, it's..." She shrugged, unable to find an adequate word to finish her sentence.

He nodded. "I hope I didn't bother you, then."

"Oh, no, no," she assured him. "I barely even noticed you."

See, Lily, that's exactly the problem, he thought in disappointment.

"Did you have a fight with the other boys?" she asked unexpectedly, and he noticed she looked concerned.

"No, no... Why would you think that?"

"I'm not used to seeing you without them. You look lonely." She sat down beside him. "Are you sure everything's all right?"

"Yeah, yeah," he said, forcing a smile in order to look more convincing.

She reached out and lightly squeezed his hand. "If there's anything I can do..."

Go out with me, James wanted to say. But that would sound like blackmail, and she didn't respond well to blackmail.

"I wouldn't go out with you if it was a choice between you and the giant squid!"

It still rang inside his ears.

"I'm fine," he said and smiled again, but this time it was a genuine smile. Probably triggered by the warmth of her hand.

"Good, then." She smiled back. "Well -" she squeezed his hand again, then let go of it and rose "- I'm going to bed now. I'll see you tomorrow, OK?"

"Sure. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

She waved lightly at him and headed to the girls' dormitory. James watched her, and a silly grin was plastered upon his face when he was sure he was out of her sight. He rubbed his hand where she had touched it.

Maybe he'd give it some more time, after all.

-The End-