Think
June, 1977
Even though she was pretty inebriated, Lily thought James was pretty much the most repulsive bloke in the whole wide wizarding world.
She hated the stupid way his hair stood up on all ends all the time. What was that about, anyway? What possible rational person would want their hair to look like that? She also hated the way his jaw was so angular and... and... imperfectionless. No one has jaws like that anymore. Except sharks. They have jaws. So says the Muggle film. But even so, never like that. It just didn't make sense. She didn't like his glasses, either. They made him look intelligent, which he most clearly was not. See, there was proof right there in front of her. James was dancing (rather well, actually) with Sirius because they successfully saturated a pastry with green paint that would explode into one's face upon being bitten into. Smart people don't do any of the above things. They might dance, but not that well. Smart people can't dance. Lily was living proof. Sure, he was still working with magic even after exams were over, and sure, it probably took some pretty nice wand work on his part to make the illusion of an apple pastry even if he did have those big, strong hands (which weren't at all even remotely attractive) that actually held the wand surprisingly well considering their difference in size, but it was James. Ugh. He was just...
"Hey, Evans!"
...standing directly in front of her. She wondered when that happened.
Also his smooth and gravelly voice was so not attractive.
"Want a pastry?"
"I can see you over there, Potter. You're not intelligent. I saw you fill it with paint."
He grinned a punched her good-naturedly on the shoulder. She nearly tumbled over despite already having been leaning against the wall. "Har har har. You're so clever, Evans, even when you've had too much Butterbeer."
"Speak for yourself, oh-non-intelligent-one."
"I have not had too much Butterbeer, I have had too much Firewhiskey. There is a fundermental difference."
"Either way, you are drunk and not intelligent."
"Either way, you are beautiful and intelligent."
"Don't tempt me into... into..." Ummmm...
"Kissing me?" He waggled his stupid perfect eyebrows and batted his stupid thick eyelashes and looked at her with his stupid hazel puppy-dog eyes that were just like windows into his soul and--
Think, Evans. Think of a comeback. Think think think think...
"No... not that."
Oh, well done.
James grinned a stupid grin with perfect teeth and lots and lots of annoyingness. "I will let the fact that your refusal sounded less unenthusialstic than usual slide simply because we've had too much drink. Also I will go over there and let you continue on describing me out loud. Maybe as I'm walking back you can talk about how my arse is perfectly toned and how no one has an arse quite like mine these days except Muggle underwear models but really, how is that relevant to how intelligent my glasses make me look and how smooth and gravely my voice is?"
Oh God.
Evans. Think, damnit! Think think think think think think think...
"Your hair is actually quite smashing sometimes."
James grinned a stupid perfect grin. "I know, love."
"Don't call me that." And then, "I hate you."
James nodded soberly, and Lily wondered for the first time if he'd really had very much Firewhiskey after all. "I can wait."
Lily didn't know what that meant, but she definitively did not look at James Potter's bottom as he walked back across the common room.
A/N: The spelling errors in James' dialogue are intentional. :)