Lily Evans quietly cleared her throat, her cheeks turning crimson under not only his gaze, but the rapt attention of the rest of Gryffindor House.

She had rushed down the staircase from the Girls' 7th into the Common Room, loudly demanding James Potter's attention. It had been nearly two months since their final year at Hogwarts began and he was suddenly different. No, Potter was not different, she supposed. He had been heading this way for the years, and, more recently, the weeks and days she had spent in denial. She had spent the better part of the past six years convinced that James Potter was the most infuriating wizard she'd ever had the displeasure of meeting and he would continue to be the most infuriating wizard she'd ever had the displeasure of meeting for the entirety of her life.

But all of that had changed the moment she saw him on the Hogwarts Express a month and three weeks ago. He was stopped in the middle of the aisle of the train, crouched down face to face with a teary-eyed first year. His smile was gentle as he conjured a bandage and began wrapping it around the boy's hand. Lily hadn't seen what happened to hurt the young boy's hand, but the bruising and swelling was easy enough to identify. James ended the quiet encounter with a quick ruffle of the boy's blond hair and a grin before walking towards the end of the train opposite to Lily.

And that had been that. Suddenly, it all made sense in Lily Evans' fastidiously organized mind. She knew. She knew that Potter wasn't an arrogant toe-rag. She knew that he wasn't cruel or unfeeling. She knew that he always spoke honestly and that his loyalty to his friends was unrivalled, except by that of his own friends to him.

It had been a month and three weeks of knowing, all while sharing a Common Room, the Great Hall, N.E.W.T courses, and Head duties. He still liked to tease her, to push her buttons, but rarely did it turn into a massive row as it had in the past. He accepted his Head Boy responsibilities with a nod and a smile, and occasionally shirked them to run off with the Marauders to pull a prank on the ever-vigilant but ever-unprepared Slytherins. But, he hadn't even asked her to the first Hogsmeade visit. He hadn't asked anyone. And Merlin, was she sore about it. Because when she realized that she had always known all of the wonderful things that James Potter was and wasn't, she also knew that she loved him.

Moping in her four-poster hadn't solved a single thing. Sneaking glances, as discreetly as possible of course, during their courses and during free periods hadn't either. He hadn't approached her at all inappropriately and the space he was giving her was, in some bizarre way, stifling her.

And so, here she stood in the Gryffindor Common Room, steeling her nerves under James Potter's curious gaze as she inhaled deeply and looked down at her parchment, beginning to read aloud.

"I hate the way you hex my friends,

and the way you woo each witch,

I hate the way you prank First Years,

I hate your stupid snitch.

I hate your bloody messy hair,

and the way you cast your spells.

I hate you when you walk silently by

And put me through such hell.

I hate the way we always fight,

I hate your endless pride.

I hate it when you make me smile,

And my feelings deep down inside.

I hate it when you leave me be,

And the fact that you didn't owl.

But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you

Not even close,

Not even a little bit,

Not even at all."

Her face was on fire. Her fingers were sweaty and her hands shook lightly as she held the parchment. She refused to look around the room, instead boring a hole through her poorly written poem. After several very slow seconds passed, she ventured a glance towards James' spot on the couch and was surprised to see an empty spot. She couldn't endure this mistake she had made. Sighing, she squeezed her eyes tightly shut, wishing she could apparate.

She breathed in deeply, about to turn away, but then she could smell him. Her eyes popped open as she felt fingers brushing her cheeks tenderly and she immediately found his face. The look in his eyes made her happier than his goofy grin. His face inched ever closer, but Lily would have none of that tortuous shy-and-slow nonsense. She reached up to grab his face and pulled him down to meet her lips, smiling against his grin.