Gryffindor Blood
“The thing is - I’ve never felt much of a Gryffindor from the start, have I? The whole Sorting Hat business is a little… it’s just, well, who really knows? Some say it detects your core traits, which could be a result of genetics, family upbringing, a reaction against family upbringing, exposure to the outside world, personal preference, a mix of all of the above, or even because of that which you lack and need some prodding and pushing toward, because it could complement and then strengthen your other core traits. There’s the other school of thought which argues - we sort much too early at the tender age of eleven and we are hardly anywhere near cogently formed and conscious. What’s eleven got to say about the high and mighty traits of bravery, ambition, justice, wisdom, fairness, loyalty? Eleven cares about the latest limited edition Honeydukes bundle, or getting an owl for a birthday present, or smuggling their broomstick to Hogwarts, or… just not about who they are, you know? Because we’re hardly self-conscious at that point, and we exist as we are. Without any mirrors of sorts. And then - why even sort at all, and be grouped with people of the same personality traits as you? Isn’t that - isn’t that a little limiting, and even close-minded? Can - should - you put in such close proximity a group of people who are all tiringly like you, and wouldn’t each house just implode from the sheer concentration of a few dominant traits?”
She went on rambling madly to the amused, if not slightly confused, wizard standing in front of her. “I never considered myself brave, you know. My mum and dad always said it, but I always suspected that any smidgeon of bravery or recklessness I possessed was only thrown in sharp relief next to my sister, Petunia, who toed all the lines expected of her. Maybe I was only curious, or just lacked any lucidity at all. I don’t - I don’t even know if I prize those traits even; I see you and Black and the rest of you strutting around the corridors saying the most outrageous things and I know you gallivant around the school compound in the middle of the night doing probably the unimaginable and… and how you’ve always stuck out as the few Purebloods here who actually bother to strike back against the nasty, bigoted Slytherins who taunt the muggle-borns, especially the young ones who don’t really know how to stand their own yet, and even started that mini-Duelling Club for the second- and third-years even though you’re so busy with Quidditch practices. And how you wrote in to the Daily Prophet last month in response to Cantankerus Nott’s article on the legitimacy of the Sacred 28 and everyone thought you were nuts for doing so. But you were so brave. You - you always have been, you know.”
“Even when I thought you were the swottiest of swots, and the toerag to beat all toerags, you still stood out for me as the archetypal Gryffindor. All of us look to you, in a way, as a leader for what is good, noble, and decent. Because you don’t only think it, you act on it. This summer, when you asked me out to Diagon Alley and told me in that flabbergasted tone how you couldn’t believe you made Head Boy and how Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall were off their rockers… I believed it - don’t give me that look, I did! And no one was surprised, not one bit. The student population at Hogwarts wouldn’t deserve anything less than James Potter for Head Boy.” She drew a breath and grew silent for a bit, fiddling with her fingers and pacing up and down in front of the tall, lanky, messy-haired boy. The boy sat in an alcove tucked away at the end of the second-floor corridor, where the girl had led them to after his Quidditch practice, which ended an hour ago.
“Even among the Gryffindor girls, I was never much the epitome of brave or adventurous or passionate. Awhile ago, I thought - well, loyalty. I’m loyal, perhaps even to a fault. And as you know, everything with… with Petunia, and Sev, and… I guess something in me broke in sixth year, because I went around wondering - well what ruddy good is loyalty for? When… when you can’t count on it to be reciprocated, or your loyalty gets taken advantage of. I felt a little like a fool. I was so angry and bitter with myself, I even toyed with the idea, well, what if I don’t want to be loyal anymore?”
At this point, James Potter had been doing a remarkable job in keeping silent. (He supposes, he didn’t really have much of a choice there. His first interjection had been met with a rather formidable glare from the lady.) “That doesn’t make you a fool! It says more of them than of you! You’re wonderful!”
Lily Evans pivoted on her heel and shot him a tender, appreciative look. She paused, and took a step closer to him, taking his dark, calloused hands in hers. Even in the drafty corridor, his hands were warm. She looked down at his knobbly knees, clad in the khaki corduroys.
“I had wondered… when would be my Gryffindor moment in life, you know, when you definitively know, yes! This is it, this is what’s been lurking underneath all this while, that which had been lurking beneath the surface all this while, but never really had a moment to come into full bloom. Dancing about in heels and a taffeta skirt with a bright green wig on top. Never - never had anything important to stand for, nothing that was worth having that would… feel so pure, and pressing, and poignant.” She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath.
“I probably knew it from that first day I met you on the Hogwarts Express. That I would never really be rid of you and that you’d always intrigue me. I’ve - and you’d struggle to see this - I’ve always had a tiny crush on you. And this crush has only gotten more crazy and nagging in sixth year, and by summer I knew I was screwed. James Potter, you are brave, daring, chivalrous, and reckless. And most times, the death of me. But you are also brilliant, bright, good, and kind. You fight for people and you fight for me. There is a war going on beyond these walls, and there’s some of it in the castle too. I want to be brave and daring, and I want to be brave and daring with you. The Gryffindor within me has been lying in wait for far too long. If there’s anything that should beg hold of this latent Gryffindor, it’s you. If there’s any moment, it’s now.”
And she grabbed his stunned face and presses her lips onto his, leans into him, and it isn’t before long that his arms encircle her waist.
