Jily one shots

sweaty palms

a Siriusly Klutzy story.

I realized something really quite strange today. Have you ever noticed that the weirdest symptoms are associated with love? I mean sweaty palms? Upset stomachs? Gross. It doesn't even help make up a nice, first love story. Think about it:

"Oh, honey, what was the first thing you thought of when you realized you loved me?"

"To be honest, I thought 'Why in the name of Merlin are my palms sweaty?'"

See what I mean? It just doesn't work. Why can't you have good symptoms? And why is love associated with illness? I mean, that happens to me when I get the flu, though I guess that's why it's called being love sick. Not when I'm in love. Not that I've ever been in love with anyone before. Sure, I've loved people, like my family and friends but I've never actually seen a guy and thought, "Huh... I'm in love with that boy."

It hasn't happened yet. And I'm seventeen! Seventeen years is long enough, don't you think? I should have been in love eighty times by now! But I guess then it wouldn't even be true love. It'd be lust to be honest with you. Most girls here- well the younger ones anyway- claim that they have been in love before. And like I've said to Alice, they're thirteen! You don't fall in love at thirteen. Trust me. I'm seventeen and much wiser. I know these things.

Alice agrees with me about the whole not being able to be in love at such a young age. But she's in love with Frank. Or, at least, that's what she tells me. But can you really be in love at seventeen? True, unrequited, I'll be with you until the end of time love? And is seventeen that much different than thirteen? It's only four years.

And boys four years ago were quite strange. Actually, boys are always strange, but they were much less mature back then anyway. Not that they're mature now. But this immaturity, I'm sorry to say, is actually somewhat attractive. Really, who wants to have a completely mature boyfriend, lover, fiancé, and all those things? How boring. But now they're not concerned with putting frogs on your arm and pulling your pigtails- both of which Sirius Black did to me constantly because he knew James Potter wouldn't do it.

See what I mean? But now they're more... worldly. They're still immature, yes, but neither Sirius nor James has put frogs on my arms since third year, though that could be because I stupefied them both.

So there I was, trying to figure it out while Alice was humming to herself as she finished her Astronomy homework. Well, maybe she wasn't finishing her homework. She was probably doodling in the margins or something. Alice liked to procrastinate.

But it was all going through my mind. I'm sure some thirteen year olds have been in true love before. I mean, wasn't Juliet thirteen? And you can't get much more famous in the love department than Romeo and Juliet. And... wait a second. Wasn't Romeo sixteen or seventeen? Somewhere along that age? So, basing my entire thought train on Romeo and Juliet, wasn't it completely possible to be in love at thirteen and seventeen?

But then again, that was also a play. Made up. Based on nothing as far as I know. But the love was real, right? You can't just make that kind of stuff up... Or could you? Shakespeare was no fool. He knew what he was talking about. So if he said that Romeo and Juliet were young and in love, who should doubt him?

"So it is possible?" I asked out loud, distracting Alice from her doodling.

"What's possible?" she asked as she tried to figure out if I'd said anything before that, which of course I didn't, but my inner monologue escaped.

"To be in love?" I asked, not bothering to go back to my inner monologue. Too many of those make me a bit crazy sometimes and then I need lots of chocolate and a shopping trip to bring me back to reality.