Harry Potter One Shots

Strangers

The first time Lily Evans encountered James Potter their communication (and her mortification) rested solely within the musical genius of 'Wham!'. It was December 14th and there was no one else in the shop. The rain was pouring in buckets like some goddamn super-power shower and her afternoon had been blissfully quiet in the seclusion of her bookshop. Not many, it appeared, were willing to venture out from the sanctuary of their own homes and the Christmas shopping could wait a day or two longer.

The few customers that had been brave enough to fight the elements seemed only to use the relative safety of the shop as a shelter. They awkwardly browsed, attempting to seem interested while moving subtly towards to heaters and avoiding eye contact.

For some, the fact that she hadn't managed a single sale would be rather worrying. For her, it was a small price to pay for some peace and quiet.

It was around 4 'o clock and the stragglers had all disappeared back into the icy cold, scarves pulled over their noses, hands shoved in pockets or gloved and holding tightly onto umbrellas. She was feeling rather smug, with both of her hands cradling a sweet cup of tea and her woolly socks and old jumper keeping her warm made her far more superior to those outside. The old radio on the counter was struggling to hold back the static, only the sounds of bells and occasionally a piano could be deciphered. She made another mental note to replace that radio, really it had seen better days. Sighing, she switched it off.

Now it was too quiet. The consistent sound of rain sloshing and beating outside somehow made the shop seem a little bare, a little quiet, a little lonely. Lily smiled. Perfect.

Uncrossing her legs from underneath her, she stood from her chair. Tea placed back on the counter, box of new stock retrieved from the back and she was off. She padded over to History and began to hum.

She began to unpack the box, placing the books one-by-one on the right shelves. Lily hummed the song that had been playing on the radio, which then transformed into a mishmash of Christmas Classics. And in no time she was belting out Mariah Carey at the top of her lungs, in what was probably the most shite rendition one has ever heard.

She was on the last ten or so books when she started 'Last Christmas', a somewhat a capella version. Lily had reached the chorus, too enthralled in her tragic singing to notice the bell above the door, signalling a customer. She continued clueless, whilst her customer cringed at the sound, a grin slowly spreading on his face.

When a male voice of equally poor vocal calibre joined in on the chorus, Lily jumped. "What the fuck?!" She yelled in surprise, the reply given only in laughter. She grumbled under her breath and shoved the last two books on the shelves. With the empty box under her arm, she set off to log the books and throw the box away, purposefully looking anywhere but at her customer; who was still laughing, he had a very nice laugh actually, but - of course - she didn't notice as she was utterly mortified. Lily's face was flushed, she could tell, and a shaky feeling was pooling in her stomach.

The laughter had turned to a kind of wheezing when she had reached the back room and she shoved the box unceremoniously in the corner and stormed back out front. Her day of peace had been ruined and she was not too happy about it.

"What?" She demanded, too embarrassed to treat this customer with any ounce of professionalism. He's tall, was her first thought, and irritating, was her second. He gave her a wide (and handsome) shit-eating grin. "I'm charmed." He said.

He was lanky, handsome and around the same age as Lily, but his hair was an unruly mess, his collar was wonky and who the fuck wears converse in this weather? He had very tan skin and stupid wire-rimmed glasses and he was carrying a motherfucking Waterstones bag. Lily glared at him, but gave up and flopped back into her chair, moving to block him from her view with the computer and having a sip of tea. It had gone cold.

"To be honest," He said, she watched him move closer from the corner of her eye, running a hair through his messy hair and dripping water onto the rug, "I only really came in here for a bit of shelter." He laughed nervously and she looked back up at him, raising an eyebrow, her face impassive and unimpressed. "Then what are you still doing here?"

Whilst he fumbled for the right words, she turned back to the computer screen and started to log the books, ignoring the awkward idiot in front of her. Outside, it was still chucking it down and Lily was debating a replacement cup of tea and trying not to look away from the screen. "Actually I, erm, I need to buy a book." He said finally, stumbling a little over his words.

Lily sighed, resisting the urge to hit her head against to counter and instead meeting the – beautiful – eyes of the stranger. "Then you're in the right place. As it turns out, luck is on your side and the shelter you dove into is conveniently the very place you need to be." She drawled, then turned back to the computer, mindlessly tapping on the keyboard. "But are you sure you haven't already purchased said 'book' today?" She asked, looking pointedly away from him as he looked down, guiltily at the Waterstones bag.

"Oh, um well not really," He laughed nervously, "The thing is," He took a few steps closer until he was directly in front of the counter, "I need a bit of help." Lily stopped typing and looked up at him again. God, this man was beautiful, she thought, I bet people fucking kneel in his presence. I would kn-

"Fine," she blurted out, standing up and abandoning the computer, "Fine what is it?"

He blinked in surprise until it morphed into a sheepish grin. "You wouldn't happen to know the kind of books a four year old boy likes, would you?" Lily gestured to Children's. "Ahh, right then." He said, and with another awkward hair ruffle, disappeared in that direction.

Of course he has a kid, she thought, a kid and a gorgeous wife and loads of friends. He seemed the type. She was imagining the bloke's perfect life and had abandoned even pretending she was on the computer. He probably goes home every night to his beautiful wife in their beautiful home with their beautiful kid. He probably has some wanker job, with one of those cars that you only ever see in films about cars. Lily had been lost in quietly bitter thought when he appeared in front of her again, hands empty.

He ran a hand through his hair, again, which she realised must be some kind of nervous thing. "Do you know anything about children's' books? I mean, I'm alright with kids, I love the little sprogs but I have no fucking clue what they like." He must be a shit father, she thought as she wordlessly followed him back to Children's, silently disgruntled.

He was rambling again, this time about his friends. Weird names, she thought - Moony and Padfoot – must be nicknames or something. Then she felt like an idiot, because he was telling her all about 'their little sprog', as it turned out, Moony and Padfoot had a kid. The stranger, it appeared, did not have children. Didn't even have a wife, nor a girlfriend, he told her, continuously babbling as he picked through the various Children's books.

Does this dude ever fucking shut up? She thought as he continued on. "Red. Red is a good colour, great colour actually. Like your hair, very pretty. I mean beautiful. I mean, um, nice. What about green? Your eyes are green, very green, actually."

"I don't know that the colour of the book is what the kid will care about." Lily interrupted, a pink tinge creeping onto her freckled cheeks. She self-consciously ran a hand through her own hair and coughed, realising she was mimicking him. "What about this one?" She asked, picking a collection of famous fables and tales.

The customer ran a hand through his hair once more, a smile lighting his face. "Oh yeah, that's brilliant. Moony'd love that for the sprog." Lily handed it to him, careful not to brush his, surprisingly delicate-looking, hands. "Great."

The purchase was quick and over within a minute, despite his fumbling. He seemed hesitant to leave, the weather still dreary and wet, but Lily gave him a tired look and he retreated out into the cold before she could let him make the excuse that was on the tip of his tongue.