Jily Oneshots (pt2)

Faodail

by Mo-Nighean-Donn

"Is this seat taken?"

Lily turned toward the voice to see none other than James Potter, hazel eyes and tousled black hair as perfect in real life as on the silver screen.

"It's yours if you want it," she returned, secretly proud of how steady her voice sounded. Inwardly, her brain was scrambling to remind her of every poster she'd ever had of James, every article, and interview she'd scoured the internet to find, and every one of the innumerable times she'd sobbed over his BAFTA-award winning performance in Cry For The Hills.

James smiled his thanks and slid onto the stool next to hers. "Not from around here, are you?" His voice was warm, almost sultry; a far cry from the awkward but funny guy she'd seen in interviews.

"That's correct."

"Here alone?"

"Correct again."

"What brings you to Glasgow?" He tried next.

"Just visiting." Lily stared straight ahead at the wall of coloured glass bottles behind the bar. Much as she wanted to, she could not make herself look at him. How many times had she fantasized about a moment exactly like this? A hundred? More like a thousand. And now she couldn't put more than two words together. It wasn't like her to be so star-struck. But then, she'd never met James Potter before. And he was nothing like what she had imagined.

James watched her speculatively while she toyed with the straw in her empty glass. After a moment, he nodded, decisively. "Can I buy you a drink?"

Now she looked at him, eyes wide with surprise. Why would he want to buy her a drink? He was James-bloody-Potter! She was nobody. Was it a prank? He certainly seemed sincere. Really, she argued with herself, what did she have to lose? She glanced furtively at the bartender, who nodded almost imperceptibly. Turning back to James, she smiled shyly and accepted his offer. He smiled back and signaled the bartender.

"I'll have a single of the Talisker 10-year, neat, and a refill of whatever the lady is having."

There was an awkward moment of silence while they waited for their drinks. Lily was quiet, deliberating how to respond to this unlooked-for attention. On the few occasions men had approached her, they had wanted exactly one thing. What did James Potter want? Still, she wasn't going to reject outright the very man she'd had a crush on for the last two years. It couldn't hurt to give him a few minutes of her time, could it? She made her decision as she received her drink, a gin sour, minus the maraschino cherry garnish.

James took an appreciative sip of his whiskey before angling his body to face Lily. Leaning casually against the polished bar, he rumpled his hair with his free hand and gave her his charming, world famous grin. "Not to overuse the cliché, but what's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?"

Lily's back stiffened. So that was how he wanted it? Well, two could play that game. "A place like this?" she echoed archly. "It's a very nice place. And I don't mind the cliché, but you're assuming a bit much."

Bingo. A crack appeared in the façade. "Oh? How's that?" he asked.

Emboldened by catching him off guard, she tilted her head coyly. "You're assuming I'm a nice girl."

He laughed suddenly, and his affectation of polished charisma disappeared completely. "You're quick. I guess we don't know anything about each other, do we?"

Lily smirked and leaned back in her seat, confident that she had the upper hand now. "Oh no?" Taking a long sip from her drink, she surveyed him coolly, then set the glass down with a precise click. "James Henry Potter, 29, born March 27, 1990, in Carlisle. Studied at the Central School of Speech and Drama in London, despite having shown incredible promise as an athlete in secondary school. After completing your course at Central you stayed in London for a few years to build your career, doing very well for yourself, but of course the big break that elevated you to international stardom was being cast as Owen Ward on Cry For The Hills, for which role you have won several awards. Shall I go on?"