Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series. They belong to J.K. Rowling.

"The thing you most fear is James Potter?!"

I stand there, watching James Bloody Potter form. He smirks at me while I continue staring at him with wide eyes.

"Riddikulus!" I exclaim shakily, pointing my wand at Boggart Potter.

Potter doesn't disappear. Instead, his smirk grows wider and more confident as he ruffles his hair. I know exactly what's going to happen so I back away in trepidation.

"Are you saying ridiculous or Riddikulus? Cuz that boggart ain't going anywhere," says the person next to me.

"Riddikulus!" I shout again in dread.

To my greater horror, another figure starts materializing. The figure wraps her arms around Potter, leaning closer to his lips, making me scream, "NOOOOO!"

"NOOOOOO!"

"LILY!"

I feel an icy liquid being splashed into my face. I gasp, choking on the water. Sitting up, I try to slow my pounding heart.

"Merlin, Lily!" exclaims Marlene McKinnon, one of my best friends.

Marlene McKinnon, a confident pure-blooded wizard, looks at me in satisfaction before putting her wand away. She brushes her curly, blond locks away from her face before winking at me playfully.

"Marlene!" I sputter. "The water was not necessary!"

Marlene shrugs, still smirking. "I thought it was."

"You okay, Lily?" asks Alice Prewett, a black haired, brown eyed, pure-blood witch who is another one of my best friends, patting my shoulder soothingly.

"Fine," I choke out, waving off my nightmare.

My forehead is damp with beads of sweat. It's too warm and stuffy for me. My pajamas are sticking to my back, and my fiery, red hair is now a tangled, wild mess. I grit my teeth, silently cursing Potter for his ability to make me uncomfortable without even being in the same room as me.

"Do you want some water, Lily?" asks Mary MacDonald, the last of my group of best friends.

She looks at me worriedly, her brown eyes staring at me. Mary MacDonald is a brown haired and brown eyed muggle-born witch.

"That can be arranged," grins Marlene wickedly, a mischievous glint to her eyes. She begins to take out her wand again, but I stop her.

"No, thank you," I interrupt, holding out a hand while watching Marlene's wand warily.

Ignoring my dry throat, I begin to smooth out my pajamas while checking the time. 2 AM in the morning. Just fantastic. I glance out the window. With the sky checkered with bright stars, it would be a beautiful night for me had Potter not ruined my dream. The hoot of the owls does nothing to comfort me.

"I'm fine," I say, my heart finally slowing down.

"What was it this time? Did McGonagall give you an eleven out of ten on your essay when you were hoping for a twelve?" teases Marlene mercilessly.

"Oh stop, Marlene. Lily should rest," insists Alice, placing a hand on my shoulder, but she does nothing to stop a small smile from forming on her face.

Mary giggles.

"I thought we were friends!" I exclaim dramatically, flopping back down on my pillow.

"We are," agrees Mary, "when you don't wake us up at two in the morning."

"True," agrees Marlene and Alice in unison.

Marlene and Alice exchange a glance and burst out laughing. Alice pushes back her dark, black hair and looks at me. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Perfect," I reply dismissively. "I'm just going to go out. It's a bit too warm in here for me."

All three of my friends look at me.

"Want company?" offers Alice.

I smile and shake my head. "I'm fine."

So after taming my hair so I look decent enough, I walk out of our dorm and into the Common Room. With the flickering, warm fire, I feel more comfortable. I saunter to the red loveseat by the fire and sit down. The warmth of the dancing flames soothe me even further. The loveseat is surprisingly comfortable. It's usually occupied by couples. So usually, I don't sit here. Now I know why most couples prefer this seat. I think back to the other day where someone told me that if two people of the opposite sex who aren't a couple sit together on this loveseat, they'll become a couple. At that time, I laughed. This loveseat is quite popular.

Do you ever get that feeling where you think someone's behind you and when you turn around to look, no one's there? Yeah, well I just get that feeling.

I turn around, my fiery hair whipping out. However, there's no one there. Settling back into the chair, I mull over whether I'm getting enough sleep or not. It's two in the morning, and I'm thinking that someone else is in the Common Room. It could be a ghost. I muse over this for a while until I hear a deliberate cough from behind me. It nearly gives me a heart attack.

I turn around cautiously to see James bloody Potter, standing there nervously while ruffing his hair. Inwardly, I groan. First he ruins my sleep, now he's standing in front of me. I grumble. At least he's no boggart.

"Hello, Evans," he greets me, eyeing my choice of clothing—an oversized t-shirt with really short shorts.

I roll my eyes. "I would say that it's a pleasure to see you, but considering how it's not, I'll refrain from saying that."

My harsh attitude does not affect him. Instead, he grins wider, adjusting his glasses. I observe his sleepwear—a red and gold Quidditch shirt and black sweatpants.

Looking at me with his large, hazel eyes, he asks, "What are you doing out here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," I retort, crossing my arms over my chest.

Potter's irritatingly attractive smirk appears. "But, you won't."

"Really?" I challenge.

Potter nods confidently and repeats, "You won't because you don't want to know what I'm up to and it'll make you seem interested in me."

I stare at Potter, masking my surprise because he is RIGHT! Arrgh. It's becoming easy to read me.

As if reading my thoughts, Potter says, "Nah. I just know you that well."

I blink. I try to stop blushing. Merlin! Since when can James Potter make me blush?

"You don't know me," I retort hotly, my cheeks still burning.

Potter grins and shrugs dismissively. "Keep trying to convince yourself, Evans."

Potter winks at me. Inwardly, I groan. The flickering fire now seems to make the room too stuffy. The Common Room looks small with James Potter standing there. The world is quiet until he speaks again.

"So what are you doing out here?" asks Potter curiously, striding over to the loveseat and sitting down next to me.

I lean away from him slightly. Potter offers me a smile. Warmth radiates off him, and I feel a bit dizzy.

"I couldn't sleep," I confess, combing my messy, red hair with my fingers.

"Boggart got your dream?" he asks worriedly.

I freeze. "How did you know?"

How can Potter possibly know that I dreamed of him! He'll never let me hear the end of it!

Potter's smile falters. "You really dreamed of a boggart?"

I blink and say slowly, "Is this some sort of wizard saying?"

Potter nods solemnly, making the temperature of the room higher than ever. I let my hair fall like a curtain over my face to hide my burning cheeks. I seem to do a lot of blushing when Potter is near lately. I watch him. He reaches up, stretching. His red and gold Quidditch shirt moves upward subtly, and I catch a glance of his six-pack. I inhale sharply, turning the other way.

I still sag in relief when I realize that Potter doesn't know about my dream. The thought of Boggart Potter sends a shiver down my spine.

Potter notices this. "Cold?"

"Hardly," I snort. "It's pretty warm in here."

Potter nods again, keeping silent. An uncomfortable silence settles over us. I shift, moving into a more comfortable position while looking warily at Potter. His back rests against a red pillow.

"So," I say, breaking the silence, "what are your plans?"

Potter smirks. "Why so interested, Evans?"

"Don't flatter yourself!" I exclaim, hand reaching out to smack him in the back of the head.

Unfortunately for me and fortunately for him, Potter's reflexes are good, and he grabs my wrist before my hand can reach his head. We stare at each other.

At this point, you're probably thinking that I'm immersed in his gorgeous hazel eyes and how alluring they are. Well, you are absolutely RIGHT!

I look at his eyes in wonder and fascination. They are huge with an unmistakable glint of mischief to them. I notice the tiny flecks of gold splattered throughout his hazel orbs. How come I've never noticed this?

"Lily?" he says softly, his grip on my wrist slackening.

"Hmm?"

"How's your life?"

I am startled. "What?"

"How's your life outside of Hogwarts? Your family," he says.

I bite on my bottom lip anxiously. Fiddling with my hands, I look away. The person who comes to mind is Petunia, my sister. I sigh.

"My sister, Petunia, got a boyfriend. Now, she's worst than ever," I sigh bitterly, recalling how we used to be so close. "We used to be inseparable. She was sweet and kind. Then, she became so cold and distant after she learned that I was a witch. So distant because I could do magic. She couldn't do any magic."

Potter nods glumly. He looks at me, silently beckoning for me to continue. He listens attentively.

"She calls me a freak. A selfish, stuck-up freak. Her boyfriend, Vernon Dursley, only reinforces that thought. He tells are to stay away from me," I say darkly, and Potter's eyes narrow. "He tells her that she's better off without me—that I'm worthless. They look at me like I should be locked away at an asylum. That's not the end of it. Petunia keeps mocking me about how I'll never get a boyfriend by being the freak I am."

I manage a rueful laugh. "Who would've thought that all those years ago, we were the closest sisters?"

Potter places his hands on both my shoulders, gripping them tightly. He pulls me closer to him, and he looks at me sternly. "You're not a freak. Any sane guy would want you as a girlfriend. Your sister's jealous. You're beautiful, the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. Even if no one wants you as a girlfriend, I always will."

I smile softly. "You know Potter, you're not a bad person."

He pulls me to him until I'm pressing against his chest. He hugs me tightly. My eyelids begin to feel heavy, and my eyes droop. I yawn, falling asleep snuggled against him.