In his comings and goings within the cobblestoned walls of Hogwarts, the later years of which were spent “nurturing” the leaf bud that was his relationship with one peculiar flower as he unintentionally antagonised her every way he could, there were countless gifts Lily Evans so graciously tossed his way. Suppose, if he had to count the ways, there were glares, fiery words, warnings, hostility, something about a toerag, something about the Giant Squid, glares, and then there were glares. Some more glares, and then some glares. Glares. Just like the one she directed his way, equipped like an entire arsenal of swords and lethal Aurors at war. Piercingly sharp, it resembled shards of enchanted glass to slice through even the thickest of skins. Thankfully so, James had one hell of a thick hide. ❝ Ah, but with my rare talent at pissing you off, don't I occupy your thoughts and your conversations —— or complaints —— more often than not? ❞ His grin and words conveyed hints of confidence and smugness, as if every interaction with the ginger was intricately planned and mapped by him like a puppetmaster clutching at marionette strings. Contrastingly, nothing but Veritaserum, arresting James in a position of vulnerability or an honest moment with his closest friends could get him to admit that when it came to Lily, he had no clue as to what he was doing.
❝ You seem to be struggling a tad bit there. So what am I? Unique? Or pathetic? ❞ he inquired lightly. He wished amusement could grasp at him as much as a selective amount of things did, and for a moment it did — a genuine smile gradually unfurling his lips in bright cheer at her description. A slow rhythmic thud in his chest. ( "Unique, meaning — there's no one quite like you." ) And yet in the midst of its almost energetic hike to the peak of his cheeks —— ( "Pathetic, truly." ), the words now rang shrilly in his ears —— it froze in its tracks. What was once authentic now turned forced —— the smile of a quiet storm, perhaps even a grimace upon closer inspection. Because of course she thought him to be intolerable, pathetic. What could ever change that? ❝ Uniquely pathetic? Pathetically unique? I'm intrigued. ❞
"I don't get why the Potter boy can't just change if she finds him so insufferable" —— murmurs once fallen upon his ears, advice from strangers in plain discussion unaware of his near presence. Because, he thought, the authenticity of his personality would no longer be there. What was the point if she only liked an illusion of him, a pretence only staged and played out for her eyes, and not what he truly was as a whole? It would disrespect her, and honestly, it would disrespect how he valued himself.
The grimace eased itself, tension seeping out from the seams as it gradually reverted back to a small smile. ❝ I really do mean Master, Evans. Master as in —— you've mastered the art in every literal form and word play, and not in any way hinting towards anything misogynistic. ❞ Behind James' words hid a compliment for the ginger that it was, in all sense of the word, genuine —— the absence of his usual amusement and cheek made sure of that. When their conversations were devoid of such behaviour from the two of them —— a verbal swordplay of sorts, endlessly exchanging blows —— it almost felt like they were friends. One side of his lips quirked upwards. ❝ Everyone has the potential to cook up something good. Do you reckon you can cook up something good? Establishing trust in your own abilities is always the first step. However, if I didn't think so, I wouldn't have invited you, now would I? ❞
❝ Maybe I'm just taking the road less travelled, deviating away from the common route of a sane man. Laying down foundations, covering all bases, plotting to erase all trails that will no doubt lead back to me. ❞ A shoulder raised to give way to a shrug, as if he had truly planned to take over the school, one secretive evil scheme at a time. A nonchalance possessed, giving the notion that this was one objective that had resided within the deep recesses of his head, prolonged to the point of deemed normalcy to him. It obviously wasn't true, yet, it was almost expected of him to say —— the words slipping past his lips without prior thought. Was Evans speaking from her heart or was she still a participant of this sparring game they both often played? He hadn't come to a conclusion yet. ❝ When defences have been lowered and trusts have been had, faces deceived, I'll attack and conquer. Maybe that's when I'll go big. Humble, innit? ❞
❝ Early class passes? Why, how extreme of you, Evans. But yes, I'm the shiniest of them all. Rub me and I sparkle. ❞
