A/N: Just a little something I came up with in math class. I don't think my Professor was as excited as I was when he found out I wasn't really paying attention.

Disclaimer: Now, really, if I owned Harry Potter, what the hell would I be doing on here?

Dance With Me?

Lily

It was half-past three in the morning and Lily Evans couldn't fall asleep.

Which was rather odd because given her newfound Head Girl duties, mingled with the more Advanced classes she was now taking, more often than not left her feeling extremely exhausted.

She walked through the corridors, listening to the soothing patter of the rain against the sleeping castle as she tried her best to ignore the uncomfortable pressing sensation against her chest that was making it hard for her to breathe.

There were several reasons for her current inability to fall asleep and her will to break the rules for once.

For one, there was the war that was brewing outside the castle walls and the fact that Voldemort seemed to be getting stronger by the minute. People were dying all around and the disappearances were all but doubling. Although the Prophet tried to calm everyone's nerves by saying the Ministry was keeping things under control and that soon things would go back to normal, she knew better. This war was going to get worse before it got any better. She knew that, soon, they'd all be suffering the effects of such catastrophic war.

And then there was Petunia, her only sister and whom Lily had never had a loving relationship with. She seemed to have picked up on the fact that Lily's love life, or lack thereof, was rather pathetic, to say the very least, and had taken to flaunt her engagement to the large whale that went by the name of Vernon Dursley every chance she got. Mix that with the fact that Petunia seemed to rejoice in calling her a 'freak' whenever she could and it was no mystery why the Head Girl had been so happy to escape her home come September.

She broke into a run, trying to escape the slurs that seemed to be haunting her: Freak. Mudblood. Slag.

She had been foolish to think she'd be able to escape the insults at Hogwarts. The Slytherins seemed to have taken it upon themselves to follow Lily around the school, shouting out insults to her. Apparently, they weren't pleased that there was a 'mudblood in charge' and made a point of telling her so every chance they got.

Even worse than that was the fact that her best friend—or rather ex-best friend—seemed to have joined Voldemort's feared army of Death Eaters. The sudden memory of her ex-best friend brought many memories to her and with it a pang of sadness and she picked up her pace, trying to leave all those haunting memories of Severus behind.

As if to make matters worse, James Potter, the Head Boy to her Head Girl, seemed to have taken it upon himself to 'defend her honour' by punching anyone who dared even breathe the word 'mudblood' whenever she was in the vicinity. Damn him and his bloody hero-complex; he really was making it difficult for her to hate him.

Their relationship had never been a good one—he'd prank her and she'd shout, loud enough for the whole of Hogsmeade to hear—yet they seemed to have grown closer during the last few months, until they had reached something closely resembling a friendship. Had it not been for their Head duties and the fact that Marlene McKinnon, her best friend, had started going out with Sirius Black, Potter's best mate and partner in crime, had forced her to spend a considerate amount of time with him and the rest of the Marauders, she might never had taken the time to actually get to know the real James Potter.

No longer was he the arrogant prick who would strut around the halls as if he bloody owned them, hexing people for fun. Admittedly, she no longer was the prude, little Ms Evans who would rejoice in finding different ways to hex him whenever he so much as looked her way. His head seemed to have deflated and even she had to admit he'd undergone a radical change.

She had tried her best to resist James Potter and his undeniably charming good looks, but had failed. And miserably. She now found herself feeling completely head-over-heels for the arrogantly humble, handsomely modest, dangerously responsible and predictably unpredictable person that was James Potter.

Too bad he didn't have the same feelings towards her anymore.

He had stopped asking her out and she knew she had finally pushed him to the limit with her constant rejections. He seemed to have moved on, forgetting about her entirely and leaving her to get a taste of her own medicine.

Bet you wish you had said yes to him, don't you? a voice in her head sneered and she sighed loudly, trying to drown it out as she ran faster.

She came to a sudden stop at the great oak doors and all the things she had been trying to escape caught up to her at full force. She felt as if she were having trouble breathing and the pressing sensation in her chest had returned at full force. She knew she needed to get away from all those haunting memories, and fast.

She bit her lip tentatively as she peered outside, before stepping out onto the pouring rain. She felt oddly at peace as she felt the rain kiss her cheek, intermingling with the tears falling down her pale face. The pressing sensation lifted and she felt—cleansed.

She threw back her head and laughed as she opened her arms to the rain, spinning around with the grace of a swan gliding across the lake.

"What the hell are you doing, Evans?" a voice called out through sound of rumbling thunder overhead. Lily spun around and spotted a familiar mess of raven hair running towards her. "It's pouring out here!"

"Dancing in the rain, what else?" she shouted back, grinning like if were the most normal thing in the world to be out at three in the morning, twirling around in the rain. "Dance with me?"

"You're a nutter, you know that?" he said, not unkindly, as he stopped a few inches in front of her.

She looked up at the familiar bespectacled hazel-eyes that were peering down at her, dancing with laughter. She laughed as she grabbed a hold of his hands and pulled him closer to her. He joined in on her laughter as he placed his hands on her waist and joined her in her dance, moving to the rhythm of music that only they could hear. He twirled her around and she threw her head back, laughing jovially, as if nothing pleased her more than dancing in the rain with him.

Perhaps it was the way he was looking at her—as if she were a mystery he was yearning to discover—or the rising surge of emotion in her heart that she felt as she looked up at him, that made her do something that, until recently, she would have thought revolting. She grabbed hold of his shirt collar and pulled him closer to her, pressing her lips against his.

James just stood there, without moving and she pulled away quickly, her eyes wide.

"I—I'm sorry," she whispered, feeling like a complete fool. Of course she was a fool. Who was she kidding? James didn't like her anymore; she had made sure of that, pushing him away every time he had tried to get close. And before she could stop them, the tears were falling again and she turned away from him, getting ready to break out into a sprint, but James caught her wrist before she could even move.

He gently steered her around, until she was facing him and she held her breath as he brought his hand up to her cheek, gently wiping a tear away with a calloused thumb. She closed her eyes, breathing hard in anticipation, her skin tingling with excitement at his touch. And then, when he cradled her face with his hand, she felt herself tremble slightly, pressing her cheek into his palm.

She dared to open her eyes and she stared up into the familiar hazel-eyes that seemed to have turned darker in colour, almost an intensifying black. He was closing the gap between them, ever so slowly, and she could feel her breath quicken as his lips grazed hers, his eyes never leaving hers.

She could swear she had stopped breathing as soon as James' lips touched hers and then he was kissing her and she was kissing him back, and it was perfect, exactly like she had imagined her first kiss to be, and she was running her hands through his messy hair and it was silkier than she had imagined it to be; she felt herself melting into his arms and getting lost in the kiss, forgetting about all her worries, because nothing mattered as long as she had James.

He pulled away from her, pressing his forehead against hers as they both gasped for air, lips tingling with a pleasing sensation.

"Lily—I—I need to ask you a question," James said in a low, husky voice. "And before you answer, you should know the Giant Squid isn't an option." Lily smiled as she nodded her head, knowing exactly where he was headed. "Go out with me?"

"Are you sure the Giant Squid isn't an option?"