Harry Potter Right Now

Disclaimer: All familiar characters, places and names are property of J.K Rowling, Bloomsbury, Scholastic Press, Raincoast Books and Warner Bros.

"_Come dance with me_."

What a cliché.

Which is why she can hardly believe it when he stands in front of her, alone in the common room during the beautiful time of midnight, looks her dead in the eye and says it to _her_.

The fire's crackling, shining a warm and kind light into the room. It makes her feel safe, cosy and comfortable. Comfort is something Lily likes very much, which was why she had been curled up in her favourite chair in front of the fireplace reading a book by firelight. It was familiar, forgiving and these midnight escapes were something deeply personal and close to her heart. She hadn't come down in a long time, simply because she had been too busy and too tired. But a hard day after studying for the NEWTs certainly called for some comfort.

The look in his eyes and the way he was gazing at her, the sound of his voice and the determination in his face did _not_ make her comfortable. And the fact that he had unceremoniously interrupted her ritual, no matter how gentle he looked or how soft his voice had been as if he had been afraid to surprise her in the first place, was immensely unforgivable.

She was positive that the strange, fluttery feeling in her stomach was her rage. Because the thought of Potter making her stomach do flip-flops was perfectly absurd. He was still a prat, and even if they were on civil terms, the thought of him and his presence was still not enough to conjure up romantic, funny feelings in the pit of her tummy.

Despite the fact that his head had indeed, deflated.

Despite the fact that he no longer hexed people in the hallways.

Despite the fact that these feelings appeared whenever he was in sight and whenever he was around.

Despite the fact that she realized that he was _much_ better looking than she had ever given him credit for.

Despite the fact that, once she had gotten to know him better, he was actually quite a decent bloke who could make her laugh and smile and blush and …

No, no, no. They were friends – not even, really. They were classmates, co-Heads, acquaintances who happened to very much enjoy each other's company. He had very much gotten over his immature stages from before, and Lily certainly did not mind when they walked to class together, or their conversations, or when he tried to distract her from her homework. Because while she really was rather exasperated when he had waved a Sugar Quill in front of her when she was reviewing Transfiguration notes for the NEWTs, she secretly rather enjoyed it. He had a wicked sense of humour. His childishness and carefree demeanour that had once made her detest him was now rather endearing, and she had been quite pleasantly surprised when she discovered a profound and thoughtful side to him that she had never encountered.

He had some of the strongest friendships she had ever seen in her life with the rest of his friends, and one must have been a fool to realize what a loyal and wonderful friend he made to the people he loved. He was still arrogant, that was to be sure, and still a bit callous and stubborn, but his redeeming qualities made him all worth the while (not, of course, that there was _any_ 'while,' because that made it sound as if she was pining after him, or interested in him or even more inaccurate, in love with him. Which she wasn't, whatsoever. Good looks, endearing qualities, admiration and fluttery feelings in her stomach did not equal love.).

But that still did not constitute Potter as her _friend_. And Lily Evans' mouth did not go dry when someone less-than-a-friend asked her to dance with a look in his eyes that suggested something much more than a friendly encounter. Nor did she freeze up or start her mind racing. She should say _no_, because she's not willing to risk their potential for having a wonderful friendship (given, that is, if he ever got close enough to become her friend), she should be _furious _at him just like she would any other being who would dare disturb her habit. She should ask _why_, because really, it's rather silly and melodramatic and overly romantic for him to be asking her to dance. Words for any reaction to the situation are on the tip of her tongue, incredulous, humourous, scathing and mild, but he's holding out her hand to her and the voice of spontaneity bursts out of its hiding place from inside her head and wills her to grasp his hand.

No, she definitely does not know what she's doing. But they're in the middle of a war, with her friends and schoolmates dying left to right, and they only have so much time.

"_You need to live a little_," he once said to her. "_More than ever, more than you would in another life because right now, there's only so much time you have, and right now, there's no guarantee for forever_."

And that's why she's standing up, carefully placing her book down on the seat and taking James' hand. Because right now, she doesn't want to think of consequences, doesn't want to think of what might be going on in his mind and doesn't want to think of what might become of their almost-friendship because he's holding her intimately.

Right now, it's James' arms around her waist and hers around his neck, his murmuring softly into her hair things that she's not paying attention to. It's them swaying softly to inexistent music, the only noises being the crackling of the fire and the sound of her racing heart.

Right now, it's her feeling weak at the warmth of his body and just how comfortable she does feel in his arms. It's her clutching him tightly because all of a sudden, despite whatever may have been running through her mind before, she doesn't want to let go.

Right now, in the midst of the moment, she wants to know what it would feel like to kiss him and run her hands through that infamous hair of his.

Things were going to change, after this. The world was changing _during_ this. But at this moment, time took pity on them and stood still. They're eternal, together, and they're tightly wrapped in each other's arms, the embrace saying things that they couldn't, or perhaps didn't _want_ toexpress in words. Right now, they're holding each other.

Potter and Evans.

James and Lily. Lily and James.

And since that night, they had never let go.


End file.

Harry Potter, Romance