Jily Oneshots (pt2)

The Gits of Christmas Past

"Because, we're all going home tomorrow, and if I don't give it to you now I might not get to."

"Why can't you send it by post?"

"Why can't you stop asking questions?" she retorted, and thrust the box beneath his nose.

He faltered, momentarily cowed by her sharp response. Evans was easily annoyed, it was true, but not so easily bested in argument, this he already knew at the tender age of eleven. He wasn't fond of the idea of taking a Christmas present from a girl, for which he would surely be laughed at, but within James was an unquenchable curiosity for everything that surrounded him – though Professor McGonagall would have rather called him nosy – and his need to know what the box contained was greater than his desire to refuse it. Still eyeing it warily, he took it from her, and immediately gave the box a vigorous shake.

"Don't shake it!" Lily squeaked, and held up her hands in a placatory gesture.

"I can if I want, it's my property now," he declared triumphantly. She scowled at him. "What's inside it?"

"I'm not telling you."

"I'll keep on shaking it until you tell me what it is."

"Open it, then. See if I care."

"Open a present before Christmas?" said James, and made a big show out of acting shocked. "How could you tell me to do that? It's wrong! It's against the Christmas rules! I should ban you from Christmas! I should -"

"Merlin, they're just some chocolates!" she snapped, angry. Steam continued to pour from her ears, and it made her looks as if she might boil over, or explode, or burst into flame. He snickered at this. "But you still shouldn't shake them, they might get squished."

"Where'd you buy chocolates from?"

"From Hogsmeade."

"How'd you get to Hogsmeade?" he asked, jealous. Evans had no business sneaking out to Hogsmeade when he, James Potter, had not yet been. "We're not allowed."

"I didn't actually go there," Lily explained, and rolled her eyes. "I got them on owl order. They arrived just this morning."

As if to verify her words, he shook the box again, and heard the rattle of several dislodged chocolates. There was a short silence as he considered this information, and when he came to his conclusion he backed away from Lily Evans in utter disgust.

"Do you love me, Evans?"

Lily's eyes widened, and her face glowed scarlet, in stark contrast to the brilliantly white snow. "Pardon?"

"You love me, don't you?" he said, half-horrified, half-amused. "You want me to be your boyfriend!"

"No I don't!"

"Yes you do!" James insisted, and started to laugh. "Wait until I tell everyone that you asked me out!"

"I did not!"

"No offence, Evans, but I don't want to be your boyfriend."

"I don't want you to be my boyfriend!"

"Yeah, you do."

"No, I don't!"

"You went to all of that trouble to get me romantic chocolates."

"They're not romantic chocolates, and I don't love you!" she cried, practically puce. He'd never seen her so angry in the four months he'd known her. It was hilarious. This would be a great story to recount to his mates, the time he rejected Lily Evans and her fiery, undying love, the passion of which burned with the heat of a thousand suns. He had read those words on the back of one of his mother's novels – the one with the picture of a busty, swooning woman in the arms of a long haired, muscled man who hadn't buttoned his shirt up correctly. They had sounded quite impressive, and he'd stored them away in his memory for future use.