"Evans, what exactly did that throw pillow ever do to you?"
"What—? Oh, Potter."
"And the excitement in those two words is almost immeasurable."
"Did you expect anything less?"
"Only in my dreams. Now is there any particular reason why you were beating up that pillow?"
"Nothing that I'd like to share with you."
"That hurts, Evans."
"I'm sure it does, Potter. Now what are you doing up so late, and down here? The Common Room isn't exactly the most populated place at two in the morning."
"Ah, but it is romantic, isn't it? You…me…a soft glow from the fireplace…"
"You're evading the question, Potter."
"So what about that throw pillow then?"
"You're right, the fire does supply beautiful lighting. Makes the whole Common Room look different, really."
"That it does, that it does."
"Hey, I never said you could sit there."
"Don't worry, I left an entire arm's length between us. See? I'm reaching out and I can't even touch you."
"Good, because if you did I'd hit you with this pillow."
"What, so one minute you're knocking the stuffing out of it—literally—and the next it's your new favorite weapon to use against others? That's just not fair."
"Hey, life isn't fair. Maybe it's time the pillow just accepted that."
"The pillow, or you?"
"That was uncharacteristically insightful of you."
"Maybe not so uncharacteristic. Maybe I'm actually deep and insightful all the time, but just try to hide it from my peers. …I'm sorry, did you just snort? Snorting is not very becoming of you, y'know—and I'd appreciate it if you stopped laughing at me."
"Sorry—it's just…you—? Deep and insightful? Potter, if you asked me I'd say you're as shallow as a shower and just about as insightful as a tissue."
"Well then you won't mind if I don't ask. And where do you get off making judgment calls like that on me?"
"Potter, let's be serious. You've spent the last six years splitting your time between being the cocky, gorgeous athlete and the popular, brilliant troublemaker. You never do work unless you absolutely can't help it, and you get your thrills from putting others down. I donno about you, but none of that sounds very deep or insightful to me."
"…Did you just call me gorgeous?"
"No."
"You did! Just now! You just—"
"No I didn't!"
"—called me gorgeous! Aw, Evans, I always figured you felt that way."
"Sod off, Potter. You completely missed my point."
"No I didn't, I'm gorgeous. What more of a point could there be?"
"Ugh! You are incorrigible!"
"Ah, but gorgeously incorrigible, am I right?"
"There's no winning with you, is there."
"That's rich coming from you, Miss I-Beat-Up-Innocent-And-Defenseless-Pillows-For-No-Good-Reason."
"I never said there was no reason, just no reason I wanted to share with you."
"Ah, I'm understanding it all now. You love me, don't you."
"I—what—why would you—Potter! You can't just go around accusing people of that!"
"Well c'mon Evans, let's be fair…for most of the girls in this school, that accusation would be true."
"James Potter, I am not most girls."
"Oh, believe me, I've noticed."
"And what is that supposed to mean?"
"How come you're still talking to me? Last year you would've screamed at me, thrown a hex or two in my direction, and stomped back up the stairs by now."
"You seem different than you were last year. More…down-to-earth, I s'pose, less of that whole arrogant act you've always had going. I almost like you now. And you haven't asked me out yet and it's been four weeks since the new term started, that must be some sort of record."
"So you've noticed, have you?"
"It's hard not to, what with the severe decrease in public rows it's caused…"
"Aw, going into withdrawal, Evans?"
"Of you? You wish."
"But of course."
"James Potter you've gotten closer to me!"
"Well, yes, I s'pose this conversation has brought us closer together, but I wouldn't say it's something to shout about—"
"No, you idiot, I mean that now we're only a book's length apart, not an arm!"
"…a book? Honestly, Evans, out of all the objects you could have chosen, what in Merlin's name possessed you to say that? We've got to get you out more."
"Aha! I knew you'd do it eventually!"
"Do what, suggest you're off your rocker?"
"Ask me out!"
"I—what? No I did not!"
"Okay, well yeah, but you alluded to it!"
"Evans, I allude to a lot of things—hell, you could even call me an expert alluder—but I was not alluding to anything just then. Which leads me to the conclusion that you wanted me to ask you out."
"I wanted no such thing."
"You're gripping that pillow rather tightly, y'know."
"No I'm not."
"Evans."
"Potter."
"Lily."
"…James."
"Well, I'm hungry."
"What? That's it?"
"What's it?"
"For the first time since we were eleven I call you by your first name, and your only response is that you are hungry? My God Potter, how highly anticlimactic!"
"Well what, exactly, were you expecting? I could jump up and down on the sofa, if it would make you feel better."
"Well—Potter! Put me down!"
"No, I don't think I will. If I'm going to be jumping up and down, it's only fair that you do it too."
"But I'm not—ah!—doing any jumping, you've just—watch it!—flung me over your shoulder! Potter, put me down!"
"Hmm, I don't think I'm ready to quite yet. I think I fancy a trip to the kitchens, instead, I hope you don't mind—hey! Evans you can't just slap me there, people will start to ask questions."
"Remember when I said I almost liked you a few minutes ago? I entirely take it back. And thank you for putting me down."
"You don't take it back."
"How should you know?"
"Because, if you did you wouldn't still be standing here with me, at two twenty in the morning."
"Oh, well yes, I s'pose…"
"Evans, why were you beating up that pillow?"
"Because—alright, because I was experiencing emotional angst."
"I figured as much."
"What? How could you have possibly known, there are plenty of possibilities as to why a girl might be punching a pillow at two in the morning—"
"Ah, but hearing the words 'Stupid idiot—making me like him—I'd like to punch him—' severely limits those possibilities, now doesn't it."
"You—oh Lord—you heard that?"
"Yes ma'am. So, who's the lucky boy? I know which one's got my vote…"
"Ugh, I don't have to deal with this right now, I'm going upstairs—"
"I don't recommend that, Lily."
"Oh, and why not, Potter?"
"Because, Lily, this is your chance."
"My chance?"
"Yeah, your chance. And, y'know, chances sometimes don't wait around forever."
"I—but—you—well. I think this wins the Gold Medal for most awkward moment of my life…"
"So since we're at the bottom, we can only go up, yeah?"
"Are you sure you're James Potter? Because the kid you are this year, you seem very different than the one I've always gone to school with. Are you sure you aren't…I don't know…Harold Potter, some distant relative?"
"Sadly, no, although I do have a second cousin named Harry, how instinctive of you."
"You're not going to make this easy for me, are you."
"Darling, I put all my cards on the table years ago, now it's your turn."
"I think I'd rather it was your cousin Harry in front of me right now, not you."
"Oh now really, Lily, that just hurts. Harry has terrible social skills, and frankly I'm insulted."
"James…"
"Why yes, Lily?"
"I…"
"Out with it, woman!"
"I-was-punching-the-pillow-because-I-was-angry-and-upset-because-I'd-just-finally-figured-out-that-I-might-possibly-concievably-potentially-like-you."
"Now that wasn't so hard, was it?"
"You have no idea."
"Hey, at least it wasn't in front of the entire school."
"Hmm, well that's true anyway."
"Hey, Evans."
"Yeah?"
"Go out with me?"
"Yeah, sure."
A/N: Seeing as you've taken the time to read this, I'd really appreciate it if you took another quick minute to leave me a review, and let me know your thoughts/reactions to this. Thanks!