A Lily/James...my first full romance. -gasp- And my first oneshot...and my first thing with real dialogue. And it's my longest yet...it took for-freaking-ever. (Did you know that when you insert a word in another word like that, it's called tmesis? Yeah, I'm weird that way.)

I'm not particularly a Lily/James fangirl, but I rather like them, and the muse struck. I've tried to make it as non-cliched as possible, but we'll see how it goes. At least Lily doesn't have two best friends who conveniently have crushes on Sirius and Remus. And at least nobody gets shut in a broom closet. And at least Peter has lines.

I'm warning you beforehand, this story has an identity crisis. It's rather strange - a weird mishmash between humor (hopefully funny) and poetry (hopefully poetic). And there's an overly long MWPP scene which adds nothing to the plot, but refused to be cut down. Oh , and I have a serious issue with overuse of italics. XD

Gosh, I should stop the self-deprecation.

Anyways, enjoy, and please review. Or you can PM me if you want to become my friend. I know I have a LOT to live up to in the romance department, so constructive criticism is very welcome.

As of 9/3/11: Has been edited (minorly, I think) at the behest of artyfan...I wouldn't have put up with her somewhat scathing review if we weren't friends. Then again, she wouldn't have sent that review if we weren't friends. Do check out her stories, though. She hasn't written any HP yet, but she will. I've forced her.

They were in the library; it was only natural that the Head Boy and Girl would share a table. Her dark red hair was falling over her eyes as she scanned that day's issue of the Daily Prophet; he was sucking on a sugar quill while pretending to write a Charms essay. She turned the page, furrowing her brow and biting her lip so hard that she drew blood.

"What's wrong?" asked James, glancing up from the woefully blank page.

Lily sighed. "Nothing in particular. The state of the world. Life in general." She slid the newspaper across the table.

James didn't even bother to read it. (The headlines were always awful these days. Once upon a time, they thought they were invincible - and now?)

"There's something else, isn't there?" James' mouth twitched, as if he was hiding a smile.

"It's not important," she mumbled. "Just some Arithmancy assignment I have to finish in an hour. And I've barely started." Lily took a textbook and a piece of parchment from her bag.

James noted that the paper was already covered in about a foot of loopy writing, and took the quill from his mouth in shock. "Barely started?"

"Oh, shut it," Lily said, attempting to glare venomously at him and utterly failing. "I need two and a half more feet, and I don't know how I can do it."

James returned to sucking the sugar quill, realized that it wasn't the sugar quill, and spat little feathers out in disgust.

Lily was looking more harried by the second, flipping through page after page of the Arithmancy book, and she eventually slammed her forehead on the table in frustration.

On an impulse, James grabbed her free hand and squeezed it encouragingly. She pulled back, but only halfheartedly, and was somehow rather pleased when he didn't let go.

James stared fixedly at his parchment to hide the slowly unfurling grin. Oh, sod it. Maybe they were...invincible, after all.

It was later that day. Lily had somehow finished the Arithmancy essay, and was basking in the glorious sensation of being free. James was trying to get the snowflakes out of his hair, and was basking in the glorious sensation of being around a happy Lily.

They were under a tree when James asked her, more out of habit than anything. "Y'know, there's a Hogsmeade visit tomorrow...come with me, Evans?"

The obvious response (in the negative, of course) was on the tip of Lily's tongue, more out of habit than anything.

But then she stopped to think, looking at the boy in front of her, trying not to see him as Potter, nor as James, but just as he was. And she saw someone about a head taller than her, his hair sticking up at the back and falling rather scruffily over his forehead, his glasses slipping off the bridge of his nose. He was wearing mismatched socks - one red, the other brown - and his eyes were wide and laughing and curious (probably from wondering why Lily Evans was staring absentmindedly at his socks). One eyebrow was raised (typical, wasn't it?), his mouth was half-smiling, and suddenly without her realizing it, the no was turning into a yes.

But something in her heart wrenched as she thought of him, of Severus Snape (but he wasn't her Sev any more, and he never would be again, really), and she supposed nothing would stop that part of her heart from forever pouring out guilt and anguish and betrayal. James Potter saw her eyes harden, not knowing that she was steeling herself to break both his heart...and her own. And utterly bemused, he saw them harden with a different kind of resolve, as she rashly (oh-so rashly) decided to exchange betrayal with betrayal, and yet break her heart anyway.

"I think so...yes, I'd like that."

The response took so long in coming that James himself had almost forgotten the question. But when he remembered, the complete disbelief changed to a doubt visible only in the one raised eyebrow (did he ever lower that eyebrow?), and that eventually changed to comprehension. And when Lily saw that the brightness in his eyes almost rivaled that of the fresh snow beneath their feet, she suddenly realized that her heart wasn't broken in two after all. She felt a sudden desire to stand on her tiptoes and tangle her hands in his air and fall into a snow angel (but she was Evans, sensible-practical Lily Evans and she couldn't do something that horribly out of character).

So she ran, turning back to give James a small smile. Her face reflected the winter sunshine and something, something else that he couldn't put his finger on. James Potter closed his eyes, gave a dreamy sigh, and leaned his back against the tree. As he slowly slid towards the ground, he wondered vaguely why falling in love (but he had already fallen, or had he?) was mostly...falling. (Three parts falling to one part love, was it?)

The Gryffindor Common Room was mostly empty; after all, it was mid-afternoon and the first snow of the year.

Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew were playing Exploding Snap on the floor. The former was lying on his stomach, swinging his legs, with his chin propped up by his hands; the latter was curled up in a sort of ball, clutching his legs to his chest. (Peter seemed to be shrinking nowadays. He had never felt truly brave, had he? And the facade his friends had given him was slowly crumbling as the war drew on. He worried much more and laughed much less, but he couldn't let them see. With all this happening outside the castle walls, losing the little respect he had would be much too much to bear.)

Sirius seemed rather preoccupied with today's Prophet and was thus losing terribly - apparent to all by his singed eyebrows. (He simply had to resist the urge to throw the newspaper across the room and bury his head in his hands, because where would the rest of them be if Sirius cracked? Yet the feeling of being stuck in school and unable to do anything, anything at all was taking its toll on him. It wasn't quite so easy to be lighthearted anymore, but it was the only thing to be done, wasn't it?)

Remus Lupin was sitting on the arm of a sofa, sorting through a box of Every Flavour Beans. He was laying them out in piles on the nearest surface, which just happened to be an outdated Witch Weekly discarded by a gaggle of fourth-year girls. (It was a small sign of hope to him that people actually still cared about the horribly frivolous magazine, and that it still published rubbish even in times like these. Even though he was changing, seeing nightmares beneath his closed eyelids...perhaps it still was possible to be truly happy. Remus tried. It didn't always work, but he tried. Was it enough? Would focusing on jellybeans drive the horrors away?)

"Sirius, I think this one is coffee...espresso, perhaps," said Remus haltingly. He sniffed it once more. "I can't be sure, though. You can never be sure with these things."

"Somehow I'm doubting it. If you're judging by the color, Remus, it could be absolutely anything, including - " Sirius paused here, for dramatic effect.

Remus turned a delicate shade of green, before muttering something involving how that couldn't possibly be legal. However, he dropped the bean in his 'discard' pile, just to be safe.

Sirius laughed. "You actually thought I meant that, Moony? Give it here. Honestly..."

"But -"

"No, Padfoot, don't eat that; you could die!"

"Peter, you're daft. I'm not going to get killed by those."

"There was that jellybean in fifth year that exploded, who's to say this one isn't made of -"

"Shut up, Wormtail, don't bring that up again; it was disgusting!"

"I keep telling you, it was just a joke! Remus was the only one who took it seriously!"

"But - "

"Oh really - "

"You guys - "

In the midst of all this, James Potter walked into the Common Room and plonked down on Lupin's armchair, as if in a daze. His arrival effectively stopped the rest from bickering. (It was so easy to take your anger at the world out on your friends, wasn't it? Not right, but easy.)

"What's up with him?" asked Remus.

Peter piped in. "Evans probably knocked all the sense out of him. It wouldn't be the first time, either."

James blinked at the sound of Evans, and looked around with a start. "Remus, why on earth are you reading Witch Weekly?"

Sirius had given up on Exploding Snap, and was leaning over the back of the sofa. "What's the girl on the cover done to her nose? And her eyebrows look ghastly. Rather like those caterpillars Professor Kettleburn made us feed to that something-or-the-other, don't you think?"

Rolling his eyes, Remus responded hotly that he was not reading and never would read such a horribly trashy publication.

"Suit yourself," James laughed. "Wait, what's inside? Celestina Warbeck interview...how to clear the clutter in your closet...ten ways to make carrot cake...oh, horoscopes!" He eagerly brushed off the jellybeans onto the table, and began to flip through.

Sirius peered over James' shoulder. "Oi, Wormy, you need to beware water; apparently it'll destroy your romance."

"What romance?" inquired Peter, with comic irritation.

James raised the inevitable eyebrow. "Moony, ten is your lucky number, and um...pink and grey are your lucky colors."

"Oh, you're kidding. Pink?" He looked positively revolted.

"That's not all," James continued, keeping a straight face with difficulty. "Apparently your life will improve by leaps and bounds if you buy a pet pig."

Remus turned the page. "Oh, now I have to see this. Sirius, it says that now is the time to repair any broken relationships."

"Brilliant. I'll owl my Mum immediately," Sirius said sardonically. "Dear Mother, I've realized it's not your fault that you're a horrible old hag - it's probably genetic." He laughed. "Yeah, that would go over well, wouldn't it?"

"Prongs, maybe you should try asking Lily again. If your birthday's in March, 'now is the time for your dreams to come true'. Maybe she'll say no without going into those hysterical giggles."

James grinned and used his index finger to push his glasses up to the bridge of his nose, while stretching his legs languidly. "Already done. She said yes, incidentally."

Peter had a coughing fit, having choked on nothing in particular, and Remus fell of the arm of his chair.

But James, suddenly, suddenly very solemn, turned around to lock eyes with Sirius. They'd grown up, hadn't they? How long ago was it when they last started duels in the corridors, when they looked up those oh-so randomly wonderful-horrible hexes and used them spontaneously just for the fun of it, when they heard "Stop it, you arrogant brats, stop it!" every other day and laughed Evans off as a lost case, as they laughed off absolutely everything? They had thought they were grown-up then, but were they now really anything more than children in this awful mess of a world?

Yet the moment passed, as all moments seem to do. Sirius thumped Peter on the back; James yanked Remus back onto the chair. Children? Not anymore. They were mature now, weren't they? After all, if Lily of all people had deemed James worthy -

Somehow, even in the midst of a war, setting off Filibuster's fireworks in the Common Room still had that wonderful uplifting effect on the spirit. Whatever happened, they would meet it when it came. What more could they do?

When James Potter woke up the following morning, he felt amazingly lightheaded - the holidays were just about to start, he was going to Hogsmeade, and of course, he now had an almost-possibly-maybe-perhaps girlfriend.

The feeling lasted until he arrived at the Common Room, where he literally bumped into Frobisher. Gerald Frobisher was a third-year, and a decent (if rather overenthusiastic) beater.

James, who was in an excellent mood and feeling rather charitable, smiled indulgently. "All right there? Looking forward to the village?"

The boy beamed brightly and turned red, rather shocked that Potter, brilliant-brave James Potter would ask him about something that didn't involve Bludgers. "Yeah...it's my first visit...after all. I was stuck in the infirmary during...Halloween...you know? I'm just wondering if...er...Butterbeer's all it's...um...cracked up to be, though."

Resisting the temptation to laugh at his eager stuttering, James responded that it most certainly was.

"Thanks...so I guess I'll see you at the practice today, then. It's at two, right?"

"Practice? What practice? Why today?" said James, his composure lost.

"You scheduled a Quidditch practice ages ago for today, remember? Something about 'soothing the pain of a Hogsmeade rejection', wasn't it?"

Frobisher stared wide-eyed at his anguished Captain groaning loudly with his head in his hands, and promptly fled.

James wasn't quite sure why this hurt so much. Everything was going wrong, Voldemort was ransacking England, but it still somehow paled to the prospect of his date being cut short.

Lily was eating toast with some strange lemony-ginger jam and staring unblinkingly at the latest Daily Prophet when James found her. (It was better to know; the news was chilling, but she found ignorance even more frightening.)

"Why'd you feel the need to run down?" she said, rather exasperated to see him gasping for breath. "We have time."

"Actually," James gasped, "I don't."

"Fine, we'll go early. Mary, finish my breakfast, will you?"

Mary Macdonald perked up visibly. (Yes, there was a war going on, but it somehow helped her to pretend to mind about such insignificant matters.) "And you two are going...?"

"On a date, of course," James said, looking annoyed. "Gosh, Mary, I didn't think you were that thick."

"If that's true, I'm moving to Mongolia after seventh year and never coming back."

James retorted with a sarcastic sweetness, "Well, Mary darling, I hope you like camels."

"But it's not exactly a date, James," mused Lily. "Perhaps an...appointment, if you will."

"How absolutely horrible. Not romantic in the least." Mary looked delightedly at James.

He sighed, rather affronted. "An appointment with destiny. C'mon, Lily, let's get out of here. I'll be waiting in the Entrance Hall."

Lily smiled apologetically at Mary, pushed the toast towards her, and grabbed her bag to run out after him.

"So a Quidditch practice today, huh? Whatever possessed you to do that?"

"I don't know," James groaned peevishly. "I don't know."

"Cancel?" Lily asked hopefully.

James stared at her, scandalized beyond belief. "This is Quidditch. You don't understand, do you?

"No, I don't suppose I do. Anyways, where on earth are we going?"

"They completely renovated Madam Puddifoot's over the summer. I thought we could take a look. Perhaps it's a little less dingy now, don't you think?"

Lily nodded rather than answering. Under the pretext of examining some nonexistent dirt under her fingernails, she blushed bright red and wondered. Wondered what she was really doing here, and what he was doing here. Wondered if this really was an 'appointment with destiny' after all, and wondered what destiny really was, anyway. (Why did she bother? The statistics in today's Prophet showed that they were all going to die too soon for her musings to be of any consequence whatsoever.)

She glanced up and caught James' eye. She immediately looked back at her hand; he turned his gaze to a random cloud and started to whistle nervously.

Lily had taken her coat and draped it over the back of her chair. James had wanted to tell her to leave it on, that he found it rather alluring when girls wore those long woolen coats that went down to their knees, but the words seemed to get stuck in his throat. (He could talk to Lily properly a few minutes ago; he was even coherent after getting hit by two Bludgers in quick succession; so what happened now?)

"Well, you were right. It certainly is less...dingy." Lily spoke with a quaver in her voice, swinging her legs awkwardly under the table.

James had heard nothing of what she said. Glitter from the saucer-sized snowflake hovering above him had fallen in his eye, and it was watering with excruciating pain. He blinked after a few moments, allowing Lily and the room to swim back into focus. It wouldn't help to be furious, but could he help it? (Weren't there better things to do in wartime than turn a little dark hidey-hole into...this?)

"How's your cappuccino?" he asked, for want of something to say. He couldn't possibly talk about the atmosphere, not unless he wanted to be sick all over the horrid frost-blue tablecloth and the tiny snowman candles.

"The coffee's too hot. I haven't tried it yet," Lily said, stirring her drink idly."Your tea?"

James didn't answer. He rather regretted ordering generic 'tea' - it tasted like a combination of peppermint, chai, and raspberry. Pleasant apart, but undeniably odd while mixed. (Was that what they were? James and Lily - pleasant apart but undeniably odd when mixed? He shivered without realizing.)

Lily looked despondently into her cup, unsure if she could drink her coffee after it was sprinkled with faux snowflakes from the ceiling. She moved her eyes across the table, appearing infinitely more miserable, if that was even possible. (Wasn't this a mistake, such a mistake, if they couldn't even hold a proper conversation?) Lily closed her eyes as she kept stirring her cappuccino and swinging her legs.

Then suddenly - "Ow!" James jerked involuntarily and brought his left hand down to his leg.

"Oh, hell. I'm terribly sorry, I swear that was completely accidenta - Ouch!" He had clamped his shoe down over Lily's own foot, and was looking at her innocently as though nothing had happened. (But really, everything had. Everything.)

And somehow, it escalated into a full-on war (though it was in awful taste to joke about war; people really were dying), while the coffee and tea lay forgotten. James wasn't even bothering to keep a straight face, and Lily was laughing, really laughing, for the first time in what seemed like forever. And who really cared if everyone else was watching; wasn't this their moment?

"Are you sure you two have enough cream and - " The plump ivory-clad lady gave a piercing shriek and started hopping about on one leg.

James was decidedly looking at the ceiling. Then he gave up and commented bluntly, "Tables can kick; they have legs for a reason - and if I was stuck in a place decorated like this, I'd throw a tantrum too."

Lily didn't even bother to blush. It was only typical that James Potter got them kicked out of the first establishment they entered. But did she mind? Not one bit.

They were standing a few meters away from the tea shop door. James was obviously miserable. "Um...Lily? That wasn't my intention, really. I didn't mean to get Madam Puddifoot that mad, and I'm really very sorry."

"I...I thought it was rather funny, actually."

"Oh. Oh."

"So you can stop pretending to look guilty - "

"I wasn't pretending; I was genuinely - "

"Because I know you really did enjoy tha - "

"Oh, come on, Evans, let's just get a Firewhisky and be done with it."

"Firewhisky? You have to be joking. I wouldn't touch that stuff if you threatened me with a - "

"Well, we're overage, and it's not like it tastes that bad- "

"You've tried it? My god, James - "

(Well, at least they were talking now.)

They took much more time than expected to get to the Three Broomsticks. In fact, they spent so much time window-shopping that they decided not to get the Butterbeers after all. (Which was just as well, actually. Remus and Peter had accidentally gotten their Zonko's products to spontaneously explode in Madam Rosmerta's face, and in spite of her liking for them, she angrily booted everybody out of the pub.)

It was undoubtedly true that a bit less than half of the shops in Hogsmeade were closed. Lily's expression turned wooden for a second every time she passed a building with boarded-up windows, while James averted his eyes. It did absolutely no good to dwell on such things, especially as the shops that were open seemed brighter than ever.

James had found some new racing broom in the window of some Quidditch supply shop, and was delightedly extolling its virtues to Lily. Lily, on the other hand, couldn't even remember the name of the broom - it was either a Comet or a Cleansweep, she thought, not that she could tell the difference between the two - and was nodding absently at intervals when he paused in his excited monologue.

Then Lily was giggling over some atrocious magenta and lime green robes in another window, before gazing dreamily at some lacy golden yellow concoction. James offered to buy them for her if they could just stop staring at clothes. She told him not to be ridiculous - she knew he only liked it because it was mostly transparent. And regardless of its beauty, she would die before being seen in something like that...especially in times like these. (Besides, anything with even the remotest tinge of orange would clash horribly with her hair.)

Although James was stopped from buying Lily that thing, he did manage to buy her a soft feathery grey quill in Scrivenshaft's. But because Lily couldn't bear to be in debt to Potter, of all people, she bought him a quill too. It was of a speckled brown hue and terribly gigantic; Lily said it would be large enough to satisfy even his inflated ego, and certainly sharp enough to puncture it.

And then they both were looking with revulsion at some odd ingredients in the Apothecary window, James stifling a rather immature chuckle as Lily's face visibly contorted at the sight of mouse eyes with their eyelids still attached. ("It blinked; I swear I saw it blink!") But both of them saw Severus Snape purchasing dried beetles in the store at precisely the same moment; they hurried away, avoiding each others' eyes.

They went towards Honeydukes planning to get a tin of Ginger Newts and some Fizzing Whizbees, yet walked out laden with what seemed to be half of the store's contents. Lily was about to suck on a blood-flavoured lollipop which she thought was cinnamon. James stopped her in time and took it for himself, ignoring Lily's disgusted glare. ("What? Living life on the edge, that's what it is! Same reason I'm going to join the Orde - ") Lily glared again, this time to shut him up. Nobody knew who could be listening, now.

Sirius ran into them in Dervish and Banges, and attempted to drag them to the Hog's Head. Lily looked skeptical; Sirius told her that it was full of 'quite unsavory characters' while looking uncharacteristically solemn and hiding an expression of mirth; Lily widened her eyes and shook her head almost imperceptibly at James. And thus, James' heart was painfully, painfully ripped in two. The decision he had to make wasn't particularly important, so he wasn't sure why it hurt oh-so much. He looked at Sirius as he stepped towards Lily, wondering if...if what? But then when Sirius laughed and said something about sending them both a box of goat droppings, and Lily turned her nose up and stuck her tongue out (when she thought James wasn't looking) and laughed, somehow everything seemed to fit back perfectly into place. Perfectly.

The afternoon sun was oddly high in the sky when Lily and James collapsed with exhaustion onto an old snow-covered stone bench.

"Well...I suppose this is it," said James hesitatingly, regretfully.

"I did have a good time, you know," said Lily with what looked to be almost a smile.

"Goodbye kiss?" He laughed, knowing he had no hope at all, but why not ask? If they died tomorrow...

"Oh, don't be ridiculous. I doubt you have time for it, anyway." Lily checked her watch, then checked it twice more, her eyes widening. When she spoke again, her voice sounded strained. "James? It's a quarter past three."

"Evans, I know your watch is two hours fast. You've told me that three times before, and I still don't see why you do it."

"It's only thirty minutes fast, James. And I subtracted that already."

Realization dawned. "...Damn. Can I cancel?"

"It's too late for that now! And you're captain! You have responsibilities; you can't just cancel!"

That was, as she probably knew, hypocritical. "But - " (And anyways, if they were talking about responsibilities, wasn't it his responsibility to ditch school and fight?)

"Don't waste time arguing! Just leave!"

As James pelted off towards Hogwarts, he wondered whether it was worth it to blow a flying kiss to a girl who wouldn't look back.

Sirius, Remus, and Peter were sitting in the stands engrossed in something, what it was, James was unable to tell from his broom.

"Oi, Prongs, how did it go?"

James responded by angrily throwing the Quaffle at the nearest goal post - so hard that it rebounded back from the edge of the hoop, and hit him square in the eye.

The sun was just about setting, and a nasty bruise had just finished developing around his eye, when she found him.

"They said something about a black eye, I didn't know, and I..." Lily trailed off, looking lost.

"It's not that bad," said James. He raised his eyebrow and winced. (Strange, wasn't it? He'd broken his ankle twice and gotten a concussion once with no response from her, yet Lily was this concerned because of a bruise. Perhaps since any injury was seemingly one step from death, these days.)

They continued walking up to the castle in silence.

James, suddenly emboldened, asked again for goodbye kiss with that roguish grin. (The world couldn't be that bad if he still remembered how to smile, right?)

"What - now?" (She was almost eighteen, yet still a child, really. How could she possibly be ready for this?)

"Hopefully." And he bent down and touched his lips to hers - only for a second, really. It wasn't even a proper full-on snog, but did that matter?

There was an awkward silence. What were you supposed to say now? It wasn't like it was a particularly good kiss, nor were they at all ready for passionate declarations of love. James stood and shuffled his feet, feeling much more confident than he looked. (Didn't Lily find timidity an attractive characteristic in boys? Much better than arrogance, at any rate.) Lily herself was resisting the little urge telling her to snog him again, snog him absolutely senseless, while almost succumbing to the other urge forcing her to run. She really hadn't meant to go this far, not that it was very far at all, but flight still seemed to be the easiest option.

Both his hands found one of hers before she could go, and they stared, and that seemed to be more than enough for now.

"Haven't seen you all day," groaned Mary from the further of the two four-poster beds in the dormitory. "So how'd it go?"

Lily thought for an instant. "Horrible."

"That bad?" asked Mary, sympathetically. She had meant to be vindictive with an "I told you so," but somehow couldn't find it in her.

"'Course not. It was brilliant."

"I don't get it," said the girl, dumbfounded.

"Oh, you wouldn't get it," said Lily to her friend with a little sigh. "Just...go to bed, will you?"

She collapsed onto her bed and thought, wondering why falling in love (not that she was falling in love, of course) seemed to be mostly...falling. (Three parts falling to one part love, was it?)