James Potter's hands were full of pumpkin pasties, eclairs, cauldron cakes, and other delights the Hogwarts house-elves had delightedly bestowed upon him during that night's trip to the kitchens. It was near Moony's "time of the month", and chocolate usually made the awful time more bearable. Peter would be simply euphoric at the sight of so much food. Sirius, on the other hand, ate selectively. James suspected this was to maintain his brooding, mysterious image. He chuckled with affection for his best mate at the thought.

James hadn't bothered with the Cloak tonight. It was the end of term and no teacher would bother to punish him for being out of bed after hours. And besides, he had grown far too tall to crouch under the Cloak without needing to grasp its silky folds in order to keep it around him.

On a whim, he began to whistle cheerfully. He did not whistle any song in particular, but the tune was quite pleasant, he thought with satisfaction. He continued towards Gryffindor tower, precariously balancing the sweets in his arms. Without anyone there to watch, his usual swagger was less pronounced than usual. He was about halfway there and vaguely attempting to recall what the new password was when suddenly-

It felt as though he had been punched in the face, although James had used that particular jinx enough times to know that no physical contact had been made. The desserts tumbled from his arms and rolled in several directions. He thought regretfully of Remus and his chocolate eclairs as his nose started to bleed profusely. Standing unsteadily, he reached into his back pocket for his wand, but, stupidly, he had left it in the dormitory again…

Mulciber and Avery stood before him, both of their winds pointed at his nose. "Oh, it's you lot," James spat, refusing to betray how nervous he was.

Avery nodded with satisfaction. "Yes, it's us lot," he replied with a sickening smile. "I think you know why we're here, Potter."

James shrugged. "There are lots of reasons, I suppose. I cursed Snivellus the other day, Gryffindor won the Quidditch cup, you've found a way to blame me for your abysmal Transfiguration grades… The list goes on, my friends."

"Don't call us friends, Potter," Mulciber snarled. "I suppose you wouldn't take the time of day to realize when something is off limits. Yes, even for you and your idiotic gang." He paused, looking at Avery. Avery inclined his head, and James felt panic growing in his chest. "Think it's funny to shag someone else's girlfriend, do ya? Think it's funny to pollute a pure-blood with your blood-traitorous-" He grew so angry that he was rendered speechless. A few sparks flew from his wand and stung James's nose.

His eyes watered a bit, but James grinned cheekily. "Oh, yes. Converting Slytherin girls is one of my favorite hobbies, as your girlfriend obviously found out. Don't know what she's doing with you; she was pretty good. What's her name again?"

Mulciber roared with rage. "How dare you," he shouted. "Severus taught me this one; I think he designed it just for you. Sectu-"

"Stop," a voice commanded forcefully. James opened his eyes. He had not realized that he'd closed them. Lily Evans stood there, her wand pointed at the pair of Slytherins about to curse James straight to hell. She looked and sounded quite authoritative, but James noticed her hand quavering a bit as she held out her wand. "Both of you, get out of here, now. Professor Dumbledore will be hearing about this."

Avery lowered his wand, but with a sinister smirk, he sidled closer to Lily. "Sweet of you," he said in a low voice, "Defending your little boyfriend." Mere inches from her now, he whispered dangerously, "We haven't forgotten how you treated Snape. You're next, you filthy Mudblood." Lily stared back at him with her piercing green eyes. James felt his already-mountainous respect for her multiply tenfold. Avery's smile was gone. "Come on, Mulciber."

Mulciber lowered his wand regretfully, but obediently walked to Avery's side. He turned back to James. "Don't think this is over, Potter," he growled. "You'll get what's coming to you." And they stalked off.

Lily hurried over to James, looking him up and down. "That was quite cliche," James said, feigning disinterest with a well-timed yawn. "'Don't think this is over, Potter.' You'd think he's been watching those strange Muggle photographs, what're they called?"

Lily frowned at him. "You mean movies." He shrugged. "You're bleeding," she exclaimed with alarm, pointing to a growing red spot on his stomach.

"I s'ppose the spell worked a bit, slimy gits," he muttered. Lily pointed her wand at the wound and it shrunk to an angry red mark. James raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You're good at healing spells, then?" he asked, trying to sound quite casual.

Lily shrugged noncommittally. "Yeah, I guess so. Anyway, where was your wand, Potter?" she demanded. He wished desperately that she would just call him James.

"Well, I, erm, left it," he admitted sheepishly. "I do that sometimes."

Lily shot him a deeply disapproving look. "That's completely idiotic," she told him bluntly. "You'll get yourself stuck in situations like this."

James's hazel eyes glittered. "If that means you'll come and save me every time, I'll never take my wand anywhere."

Quite shockingly, two faint pink spots appeared on Lily's cheeks. James blinked. "Lily Evans," he gasped mockingly. "Blushing like a schoolgirl at my cheesy pickup lines!"

Lily swatted his arm. Embarrassingly, his heart raced instantly at her slight touch. "I am a schoolgirl, you prat," she reminded him. But instead of her usual disgust, her eyes twinkled, and her tone was good-natured. For the first time in years, hope reared its long-slumbering head within James. Could it be that Lily didn't hate him quite so much anymore?

"Lily, could we maybe-"

"Not yet, Potter." She smiled slightly and turned in the direction she'd came. "Good night."

Her words took a moment to sink in. "Oi- Lily! Wait!" James shouted excitedly. "What d'you mean, not yet? LILY!" But the girl he loved so much was already gone.

For now, at least.