#smitten fools

[angeart]

[blitheringmcgonagall]

“The weirdo is following you, Lily,” Mary hisses under her breath, sounding mildly disgusted.

“Again?”

“Yup.”

“Ah, for feck’s sake!” Lily muttered to herself.

She was not going to give him the satisfaction of turning around. Ever since that day beside the Great Lake when Sev had called her a mudblood, she had refused to accept his apology. Because he wasn’t actually sorry. He never had been. He called other students mudbloods. He cursed other students, used dark magic on them, like his friends did; like his friends had done to Mary. He just didn’t want to lose her as a friend. Or whatever the hell he thought they were. She was, apparently, “different”. Fuck that. And fuck Sev. She should have ended their friendship years ago. She had been wilfully stupid. Blinded by loyalty and misplaced honour.

“Just ignore him and get on the bleeding train, Macers,” Lily lugged her suitcase over onto the train with a grunt.

“Need a hand there, Evans?”

A low, posh, sexy (what??!) voice behind her. She whipped around and found herself face to face with none other than James Fecking Potter. With his annoyingly attractive hazel eyes, and cute bed head hair, and radiant, warm smile, and irritatingly toned chest, and arms, and abs, and-

“No, I don’t need any help whatsoever,” she said stiffly.

“No, right, of course not,” he smiled at her, pushing his glasses up her nose and ruffling his hair.

She really liked his hair, actually. And she hadn’t meant to be rude either.

“It’s fine,” she said, scuffing her shoe against the pavement and avoiding eye contact.

She watched Potter share a look with his best friend, Sirius Black, both lifting their eyebrows. She rolled her eyes.

“Get on the train, it’s leaving soon,” she scowled.

“I thought you two were best pals now,” she heard Sirius say.

“We are,” Potter’s reply.

“Not actual best mates though, right?” the affronted, concerned tone unmistakeable.

“Never, pals are different to mates, old chap,” Potter was now looking between them nervously.

“Oh, really? How?” she said, raising her chin and attempting to look obnoxious.

Sirius glared at her, she glared back. They were both alarmingly stubborn, neither wanting to be the one to look away first.

“Eh, well…” Potter bit his lip, looking flustered.

“Best pals is a synonym for someone you’re friends with but you’d rather be shagging,” Peter said casually. “Hold this, will you?”

A dumb-struck James Potter took the schoolbag mechanically as his friend calmly took off his jacket.

“Too hot,” Peter added, looking at James’ red face. “Looks like you’re boiling too, Prongs.”

Keep reading on ao3…

[adisorganisedscrapbook-blog]

Happy Valentines Day

You smitten fools. One part sincerity, one part criticism.