James Potter (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
alotofgood) wrote2011-01-30 10:44 pm
alotofgood) wrote2011-01-30 10:44 pm
Entry tags:
post-014. may 1976.
May 31, 1976 — Ridiculous O'Clock.
Hogwarts, Scotland
Gryffindor Common Room
James can't sleep.
It's not that he isn't exhausted, or that he doesn't want to sleep.
But between the horrible dreams (that have gone from Evans and Flourish snogging, to Regulus Black and Snape sneering at him, gloating about their triumphant Quidditch victory) and Peter's bloody snoring, sleep is a little more than difficult to come by tonight.
And there's the fact that his eyes won't stay shut for very long.
After a moment's staring into darkness, James blindly reaches with one hand for his glasses, puts them on his face, and sits up. He checks the clock hanging by the door for the time, noting that it is nearly five in the morning, and it's still dark outside.
Peter rolls over to his side, bringing on a fresh set of snores.
James almost wants to hit him.
With a sigh, he gets out of bed, reaches for his bathrobe, and makes his way across the dorm room to the door.
Considering it's Sunday tomorrow (which he's grateful for, as it means no classes to fall asleep in), students will likely be sleeping in late.
Maybe he can catch an hour's quiet sleep in the Common Room.
Or something.
Hogwarts, Scotland
Gryffindor Common Room
James can't sleep.
It's not that he isn't exhausted, or that he doesn't want to sleep.
But between the horrible dreams (that have gone from Evans and Flourish snogging, to Regulus Black and Snape sneering at him, gloating about their triumphant Quidditch victory) and Peter's bloody snoring, sleep is a little more than difficult to come by tonight.
And there's the fact that his eyes won't stay shut for very long.
After a moment's staring into darkness, James blindly reaches with one hand for his glasses, puts them on his face, and sits up. He checks the clock hanging by the door for the time, noting that it is nearly five in the morning, and it's still dark outside.
Peter rolls over to his side, bringing on a fresh set of snores.
James almost wants to hit him.
With a sigh, he gets out of bed, reaches for his bathrobe, and makes his way across the dorm room to the door.
Considering it's Sunday tomorrow (which he's grateful for, as it means no classes to fall asleep in), students will likely be sleeping in late.
Maybe he can catch an hour's quiet sleep in the Common Room.
Or something.
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You played really well or it was a good game or there's always next year or, God forbid it's only Quidditch.
Especially not this last, because they both know it's a lot more.
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But ... no. The answer is no, there's nothing that can be said, really.
It bothers him that this bothers him as much as it does, but ... well, besides the fact that James has always had something of a theatrical streak, it really, really does suck.
"It didn't end well," is what he finally says with something of a resigned sigh. "It started off brilliant, and then it turned very, very ugly."
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"The matches with Slytherin are always ugly, aren't they?
"I mean, their team isn't exactly known for being gracious or anything. On or off the pitch."
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And thinking about it — about those blighters and their penchant for cheating and general dirty tactics — only makes him angry.
He lets out a breath.
"I reckon they were feeling sorer because of what happened with Regulus."
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"But this was never going to, ah, set the standard for civilized matches."
Gryffindor and Slytherin.
There are very few examples from recent years of those two Houses getting along.
"I'm sorry."
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James nods.
"I can't even imagine the idea of us all getting on."
Only an idiot would think it was a possibility.
And James Potter is not an idiot.
After a moment's realization that they're both still standing, with Evans' wand filling the space with a blueish glow, James asks, "... d'you want to sit? Or were you going to head up?"
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Maybe not for all of them, but in certain cases.
Now ...
Lily shrugs.
"I guess that depends. Did you want to try to get that hour of sleep, or would you prefer to beat me at chess or something?"
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"I think I've more or less given up on sleep," he admits, with a bit of a shrug.
He's not sure he minds so much though, taking present company into consideration.
"But chess — I can do chess."
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Lily is much better at chess when she doesn't have to take all sixteen pieces' opinions into her strategy.
"Should be entertaining."
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Even if it seems like the dark sky is beginning to brighten at a snail's pace.
"I've had enough tripping over things tonight."
Then he smiles a little, almost teasing.
"Difficult pieces ... ah, my favourite."
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Lily sets the pieces back on their starting places while Potter is getting the lights. The black knights insist on being swapped to the other side -- "I'm the Queen's knight, you silly girl!" -- and that's nothing compared to the complaints from the white pawns.
Oh, this should be interesting.
"Black or white?"
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And it seems like the black pieces are positioned in the empty seat across from Lily.
"Well — black, it is."
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It takes her three attempts and the better part of a minute to convince one of the pawns to move forward.
"I don't think they trust me," she says, looking at Potter.
Maybe he'll have better luck with his.
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This is so much better than sleeping.
"Right. Let's see how these black ones do," James says, positioning one of his knights to shift across the board.
They're a little less disgruntled than the white, but not by much.
"Are you sure you want to do that?"
"Yes."
"Well. Your loss, then." The black knight moves. "You should've moved me to C6," it points out smartly.
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"Here's what we're going to do," one of her knights says, briskly. "You're going to move me out to challenge the scurvy knave!"
"Language!" says the white queen.
"Apologies, ma'am," says the knight. "And then you can -- "
"Why should she move you?" the king's bishop asks. "That won't work, anyway. You, girl, get this pawn out of my way and I'll take care of that knight."
Lily, a little helplessly, gets the pawn out of the way.
"Really, what I like best about my pieces is how careful they are about keeping our strategy a secret."
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It's odd. He almost feels like he hasn't laughed for years.
"These pieces are a lot more entertaining than the ones I've got back home," he says.
"You — sir!" says the black knight. "It's time to move me, eh? Chop chop!"
"Blimey — you're an impatient knight, aren't you?" James stares down at the board for a moment. "All right." He moves the piece over towards a white square.
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"So much for that plan," she says.
Lily directs a grumbling pawn forward. "He's going to see that this a trap, you know," the pawn says. "Anyone could see that this was a trap. But, no just use me as bait, why don't you? No one cares about me, I'm just a pawn."
Lily looks across the board at Potter.
"Why do I feel like you and I ought to be playing against the lot of them?"
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He studies the pieces, already seeing the trap laid out for his black knight.
"Right — pawn —"
"No!" interrupts the black knight. "I can do it. I can take that pawn."
"Yes, but then you'll —"
"It is but a noble sacrifice I must make."
"I'd really rather you didn't," James says.
His black knight charges forth anyway, straightening to knock the pawn off its spot. "Hah!" it declares. "Take that, you dirty pawn!"
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"Not the brightest knight in the cavalry, is he?" she asks.
On the board, the pawns in attack position on either side of knight are clamoring to be allowed to avenge their fallen brother.
"You," Lily says, choosing the one in front of the rook.
"Ha!" cries the pawn and rushes at the knight.
It's a surprisingly vicious attack.
"Huh," she says. "Though he be but little, he is fierce."
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Time to move his pawns, like the original plan.
"All right, pawn on D7, off you go then. One square forward."
"I am honoured, sir, that you have chosen me."
"Suck-up," says the pawn directly to its left.
"You're just bitter he didn't pick you."
"Am not."
"Unbelievable," James mutters, glancing up at Evans for a moment.
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"You're not exactly making a strategy easy here," Lily mutters at them, and moves one of her knights out.
Several turns later, she's given up on strategy, and is just moving whatever piece she can move with the least fuss and argument.
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By now there is the soft light of Sunday morning coming through the window. And here he is, in a game of Wizard's Chess with Lily Evans in his pyjamas.
He really wishes he could trap this moment in time, because once everyone else is awake, he's certain he's going to want to hole himself up somewhere and avoid people for the rest of the weekend.
"We'll have him," says the black Queen triumphantly. "Off with his head, and all that!"
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"I cannot!" the knight cries. "She is a lady. It would not be at all in keeping with the Code of Chivalry."
"The Code of Chivalry?" Lily says. "Your king in is in check, Sir Knight. Doesn't the Code of Chivalry have anything to say about that?"
It takes another forty-five seconds to convince him to move, and he's very polite about removing Potter's queen from the board.
"I'm really starting to miss playing this with pieces you can just pick up and move," Lily tells Potter.
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He gives the board a close look, taking his pieces and Lily's pieces into consideration.
"It is a travesty," says the bishop. "Silent pieces."
Yes, even the Wizard's Chess pieces have something to say about muggle chess.
"Come on, bishop. It's your turn," James prompts.
"Well, I'm just saying — as much as that silly knight bothers me, it'd be awfully odd if he simply never spoke at all."
"Bishop to the white knight," James says again.
"All right, all right! I'm going, already."
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"Let's just say it's a very different game with quiet pieces," Lily says. "All right, Your Majesty, you'll have to take care of the bishop yourself."
The king steps gravely forward, and then starts whacking Potter's bishop with his crown.
"Really, a very different game," Lily says.
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"Probably not as violent, that's for sure," he says.
A few turns later and all his remaining pieces are gone, save for his rooks and his remaining knight.
They've gotten around Lily's king piece. The rooks start to give each other compliments on a job well done.
"Checkmate, Evans," he says, almost looking apologetic before his knight starts arguing with his rooks about not getting his share of compliments.
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Lily does the only thing she can possibly do.
She pulls a cushion off the empty chair next to her and drops it on the chess board and all the pieces, muffling them.
"Congratulations, Potter.
"It was a memorable game."
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He really does wonder who this board belongs to. And he can only hope they're not this lippy with their owner as they'd been with him and Evans.
"It was memorable, wasn't it?" he says, turning back to her. "Thank you, Evans."
For, you know, actually succeeding in distracting and cheering him up for a bit.
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"Next time, though, I'm using my own pieces."
They actually listen to her.
Most of the time.
"I should probably go up, before one of my roommates wakes up, sees that my bed hasn't been slept in, and panics or something."
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"It's practically morning," he says, glancing towards the window again.
He considers going back up to the dorm room to 'pretend' he'd been asleep.
... but he'd really rather not.
He really doesn't want to hear Remus' sympathetic speech, or Peter's eager agreement, or Sirius ... being Sirius right now. Much as he appreciates their concern and all, he's still not up for it.
"Maybe I'll go and see if I can get an early breakfast," he says, turning his gaze to the portrait door instead.
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"Knowing you, I'm sure you'll find a way."
Not necessarily one that keeps to this side of the school rules, but Lily has decided not to fret about that right now, prefect or not.
"I'll see you around, Potter."