Ignite - Chapter 3
June
The party was a celebration. The last party of their 6th year, only days before the start of finals. That wasn't the reason for it, though. The reason was the large gold trophy that was now sitting in the middle of the common room following the quidditch finals that morning.
Lily should be studying. If she was smart, she'd leave the party and return to her books. Except she had been studying for weeks, and she was on the verge of finally mastering the featherlight Transfiguration principal to allow her to turn the bowling ball into a balloon for the test on Wednesday, and she needed a fucking break.
She had her Gryffindor pride on display, the red and gold colors adorning her figure. She sat through the game, though she couldn't for the life of her understand why anyone really enjoyed it. Even still, she cheered and booed with the rest of them. When the game ended in the early afternoon, she stayed in the stands while the rest of Gryffindor rushed the field, observing the revelry among her classmates with a bird’s eye view. At the center of that mass was James Potter, the Quidditch Captain that led Gryffindor to victory for the first time in some number of years that Lily never bothered to pay attention to (too many, as far as she could tell).
She followed the swell of the crowd back to Gryffindor Tower, the party forming as soon as they crossed the portrait hole. Someone put out a record player, charming it to rotate through the records and keep the party moving. Someone (read: some combination of the four 6th-year boys who were known to make such things happen) supplied butterbeer, firewhisky, and enough food from the kitchens to keep the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall empty that evening.
Lily stood at the edge of the gathering, nursing a butterbeer. She needed to relax, and should the opportunity present itself, she intended to find someone to relax with. It had been far too long since she had found herself under someone, and she desperately wanted it tonight. The only question was who.
“Alright, Evans?”