Author's Note: Hi, it's actually my first time uploading (or writing) my ideas for a Jily fic. So hopefully the first of many? I also hope you enjoy reading this. Reviews are the sweetest!

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Lily was especially tired tonight, having to deal with five couples snogging at different cupboards. She even caught Celia Malfoy with some Ravenclaw bloke teetering dangerously over one of the windows of the Astronomy tower. She would've let them fall off for all she cares, but Head Girl duties dictate that no student must die under her watch no matter how dangerously promiscuous their choices are.

And it's not helping that the Hufflepuff prefect, Lucas Griffins, assigned to do the rounds with her is mysteriously sick tonight. She mentally noted to give a particularly elaborate task to Griffins for abandoning her.

Why does Thursday have to always be bloody annoying? And why does Quidditch practice should always be scheduled every Thursday? It's no fair that she's always stuck with very unlucky day patrolling while the Head Boy, James sodding Potter is off flying enjoying himself with a bloody broomstick. Well, of course he's Quidditch Captain so he has no choice. But she would've appreciated it if she gets to have a break from Thursday madness even for just one night. Or a month. Or possibly forever. She now officially hates Thursdays. And Potter, for scheming his way out of this ominous weekday during schedules. Potter and his cunning ways – it always, always succeeds in bringing the rage inside her.

Her inner debacle continued as she entered the silent and empty Gryffindor common room. Or so she thought. There sprawled in front of the fire was the particular Head Boy gracing her thoughts just moments earlier. He was curled asleep across one of the cushioned chairs, a Potions book lying on his stomach and a discarded quill and parchment lying on the floor beneath his feet. He must've been working on the especially long essay assigned by Professor Slughorn about the Veritaserum. It was a bit of work but being Potions was an aptitude of Lily's, she has already completed hers a week ago.

Seeing Potter while she's inevitably blaming him for the unluckiness of Thursdays is not making her night any better. But she'd prefer a sleeping, quiet James Potter to the boisterous and arrogant James Potter any day.

It surprised her to see Potter doing schoolwork. He always seemed too laidback – immersed with his Quidditch or that hair of his that he always play with – she swears a day never goes by without him touching his hair, not that she notices. Well, they've been closer because of Head duties. And she thought, Potter was slightly decent ever since he stopped asking her out on every opportunity he gets since third year, or when he actually helps out the lower years who asks for his help in their subjects. But other than that, he remains the annoying git who always infuriates the hell out of her. An annoying git who seems to have such immaculate, luscious hair.

Almost half of the female population in Hogwarts has fallen for the charm of his hair, and as loath as Lily would care to admit, she was definitely curious whether his hair feels as soft as it actually looks. She creeped a little closer to where James was curled up, inspecting how good his forearms looked like with his shirt sleeves rolled up slightly. His glasses were slightly askew, his tie loosened, and the upper two buttons of his shirt unbuttoned – allowing her a slight glance to his toned chest. Merlin, she never knew Quidditch could make a bloke as fit.

Lily has never looked at James Potter's features closely until now. She was busy filling in on the familiar role of archenemies she and Potter have established ever since first year to even have bothered with the seeming shift of emotions she harbors for him. It's not as if she fancied the bloke. She just felt like acknowledging even a bit that Potter changed ever since he became Head Boy – or maybe he's just faking it, that's more plausible.

Whether it was her tired being, or her brain's utter curiosity that addled her brain, she didn't know. She just wasn't one to pass up opportunities and here's one presenting itself. She consoled her mind that she's doing it on behalf of the female population of Hogwarts. Like caressing an especially proud cat, she gingerly reached her hand into his hair. And Merlin was it soft. She threaded her hands ever so slightly to feel it, mentally noting to ask one of his mates, probably Remus, on whether Potter uses a charm or a product to make his hair this impeccably soft.

"I'd appreciate if you'd roam your hands all over my body instead of just my hair, Evans."

Lily's hand froze. Her eyes immediately shot towards the voice who's now smirking in front of her.

"I don't… I was just.., There was… dirt. In your hair. I uh, had-to-remove-it."

She removed her hand, but James grabbed it with his.

James rose in his seat, still holding her hand.

"What do you think you're doi-,"

"You know, Lily if I had known it was my hair that would finally make you cave, I would've flaunted it to you ages ago."

"Oh, sod off, Potter. It's not what you think it is. And let go of my hand." Lily said rather fiercely, trying to regain her composure but her face matching the color of her red hair was leading her to a losing battle.

"It's not what I think it is," James let her hand go and folded his arms across his chest. "Do tell, what do you think it is, Lily."

Lily looked up from her staring contest with the floor and was surprised to see the very close distance between him and James. She can very well see the intense stare of his hazel eyes behind his spectacles and the fine curve of his mouth as it formed into a subtle smirk across his face. His forearms are finely emphasized with that position in front of his chest. He was clearly not letting her get away with this.

"I told you there was dirt on it, I was just trying to give you a bit of help, Potter."

"That's not what it felt like, Lily. I'm not buying it. Try better."

"I don't have any thing to explain to you, Potter. I'm going." She turned towards the girl's dormitory, but James grabbed his arm.

"Admit it, Lily. Not saying it doesn't mean it's going away. I'm not forcing you to feel anything, but I've seen the way you look at me. I've tried brushing it off because really, that sound like a bloke's dreams than actual reality. But action speak louder than words, I dare say. I think, it is what we both think it is, Lily." He almost breathed her name, afraid that if he said it louder he would've scared her away. They're awfully close, only centimeters apart. None of them daring to speak, their eyes staring intently to the other.

"Oh, shut up, Potter." With that Lily placed her hand behind James neck and kissed him. James was stunned for a second, doubting whether this was another of those daydreams he keeps conjuring up in his head. But the soft bite of Lily against his bottom lip was all it took for him to reciprocate. They kissed slowly and passionately, hands roaming desperately on each other, their pent-up emotions suddenly surfacing into that one searing kiss.

Gasping for air, both pulled back, their hands a tangled mess – James' was on Lily's neck while Lily's right hand was still on James hair, the other was on his neck.

"Hi, so you were saying something, Lily?" James fighting the urge to run his hands to his now occupied hair.

Lily grinned, her eyes sparkling as it reflected the embers of the common room fire. There were too many emotions going on inside her and she couldn't think straight.

"Thursdays aren't so bad after all."

"I have no idea with what you just said, but absolutely the best. And oh, fancy going on Hogsmeade with me next weekend?"

Lily just smiled and pulled James into another passionate kiss.