A/N: Here's another L/J fic. It's a oneshot, and it's from Lily's P.O.V.

Review, please!

There are many things I hate about love. There's the fact that it's often confused with lust, and the fact that what teenagers think is love usually doesn't last that long.

What I hate most about love, however, is that when you do find something real, it disappears before you can say "effing hell!"

I used to hate HIM. Who is this HIM I am referring to? James Potter. James-bloody-Potter. From this point on, HE will be referred to as HIM. Got it? Good.

So, back to HIM. I hated HIM. HE was the biggest abomination in my life. Well, maybe abomination is an overstatement, but HE was a pest – a really annoying pest, who made my life miserable for most of my stay in Hogwarts. Honestly, you'd think it was HIS life's goal to irritate me to the point of insanity.

What did HE do to irritate me, you ask? The real question is, what didn't HE do? HE asked me out every possible moment ever since we were in our fourth year. I think the record was three hundred times in a day. I won't ever forget that day; October 15, 1976. HE asked me out every second of the day, and one of HIS friends – Pettigrew, I think – was keeping count. When HE asked me out that dinner, he jumped up and said "Three hundred, Prongs!" Honestly.

That's not the worst part. Don't let me get started on the gifts HE gave. HE gave me daffodils that sang me songs, cards that said love poems at a very loud and undesirable volume, stuffed animals that hugged me to the point that I couldn't breathe, chocolate hearts with HIS face on them, and other gifts like them. Other girls looked at me viciously and enviously as I received these; I was not flattered at all by the attention. I was just plain disgusted and irritated.

The worst thing HE would do was HE would embrace me! Imagine! I'd be standing outside innocently, and HE would wrap his arms around my waist from behind and kiss my cheek. I think that should count as rape! HE was practically throwing himself at me! I know a million other girls who'd love that, but I hated it. I just plain hated it.

So you can now see why I happened to hate him. I'm actually surprised I didn't murder him the day he asked me out.

Then, of course, Dumbledore happened to be high when he chose the Head Boy. Well, he wasn't – a really powerful wizard does not get high – but guess who he chose to be Head Boy? Yes, he chose HIM. I don't know why, either; HE had a really bad prankster reputation, and HE wasn't even prefect to begin with. I honestly think Dumbledore chose HIM because he knew we didn't get along. That's Dumbledore for you. Go figure.

I knew HE was going to make the fact that HE was Head Boy to my Head Girl and advantage. I knew HE was going to be ready to pounce the moment we both entered the Heads' compartment. I knew HE was going to be even more unbearable than usual, seeing as we were going to be sharing a common room together. I dreaded the increase in invitations to go out, number of gifts, and embraces that screamed TOO INTIMATE FOR COMFORT. I told myself the next time HE asked me out, I'd go out with HIM just to shut him up. He won. He irked to the point of no return.

Oddly enough, when I was just about to accept, HE stopped asking me out – and with no warning, too. It was just an abrupt stop to the gifts and hugs. It wasn't that HE was interested in someone else – HE didn't date anyone else – but it seemed that HE just wasn't interested in me anymore.

For the first few weeks of this "asking-out hiatus", I enjoyed peace. Those were the most peaceful weeks of my life. I was able to walk around without that feeling of dread that HE may be nearby. In fact, the only times we saw each other were on patrols and in the common room.

Then, for some incomprehensible reason, I started to miss HIM. I missed HIM asking me out, and I missed HIS gifts. Most of all, I missed HIS arms around my waist, and HIS lips on my cheek.

It was then that I realized that I was in love with the boy. I was in love with HIM.

I tried to get closer to HIM, and that worked, sort of. I didn't hate HIS guts anymore, but we were only friends. I tried hard to make HIM attracted to me – I even threw in a bit of subtle flirting here and there. However, there was no effect. HE still didn't ask me out.

"Lily?" Oh no. It's HIS voice I hear.

"Pot – James?" I reply sweetly.

"What's up?" HE asks.

"Er…" I stammer; is this the effect HE is giving me? I quickly look at the mirror in the common room; good, my hair hasn't turned blonde yet.

"Stammering for me now, eh?" HE says, grinning. The nerve of HIM… and yet… HIS grin is just so cute…

That's it. I've had it with HIM and HIS mind games. I've had it with every bloody thing that's going on. I've had it with these emotions, these feelings of giddiness and longing. I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!

"You know what, Potter? Shut up. Just shut up. I'm sick of this."

"Why? What's wrong Lily? What did I do?" HE says, looking very bewildered.

"What did you do? What didn't you do? You asked me out every effing day since fourth year, you gave me the worst gifts ever imaginable, and you'd embrace and kiss me at every possible moment!"

"But I stopped, didn't I?"

"That's precisely it! You stopped. Why?"

"I thought you didn't want it!"

"Of course I didn't want it!"

"Then what is your bloody problem, woman?" HE finally yells at me.

I mumble something incoherent. I don't know what my problem is. I think I'm just schizophrenic.

"What?" HE asks me.

"I miss you," I admit softly, so soft HE doesn't hear me.

"What?" HE asks.

"I miss you, you git," I say a little louder. I guess I said the magic words; HIS eyes soften. I turn away from him.

"Come here," I hear from behind me. HIS arms are wrapped around my waist once again. "I miss you, too," HE says.

We stand there for a while, not speaking. His hands then touch my cheek, and I turn to face him. My eyes close as his lips touch mine for the first, but definitely not the last time.