A/N: Well, it seems I can only write Lily when she's in desperate need of something, whether chamber pots or chocolate. (Her fault, not mine.) Let me know if you like it – I'm off to eat tart. ;)
Yawning widely, Lily slumped further over the desk and glared at the clock. Half past ten and she hadn't eaten since lunch. Days like today made Lily want to hand in her Head Girl badge, or transfigure it into chocolate and eat it, one or the other. Potter wasn't here yet, but that was hardly surprising. He was probably eating something, the prat. He was probably eating an enormous sandwich, or a treacle tart, or a peach, or lasagne –
"All right, Evans?"
Think of the devil. Lily lifted her head from the desk with a scowl already in place, half-expecting to find Potter standing at the door stuffing his face with pasta. Instead, she found a foodless Potter waiting at the door with a satchel slung across his back, smiling at her with every appearance of easy affability.
Lily smiled back. She couldn't help it; she felt guilty for all the unwarranted food-related anger. Potter closed the door behind him, looking pleased, if slightly surprised, to find anything but a glare on Lily's face.
"So, what's on the menu tonight, Head Girl?"
Lily's smile instantly vanished. "Student survey," she said shortly, thrusting the towering sheaf of parchment in Potter's direction. "We get to compile the results of every single student's thoughts on professor performance at Hogwarts."
Potter groaned softly, rifling through the first few pages on the pile. "Unbelievable," he breathed, eyes running over the tiny, disjointed handwriting. "We're supposed to finish this tonight?"
"Dumbledore's orders," said Lily. She wished she could order some food. Staring at the paper, she remembered a snapshot from her early childhood, that time when Petunia had convinced her to eat the cover page of her dismal school report – incessant flights of fancy… asks too many questions… made her teacher tap-dance…
She shuddered. Paper wasn't an option, then.
Having abandoned the pile, Potter flopped into the chair next to Lily's, and looked her way until she felt obliged to meet his eyes. For some inscrutable reason, he was grinning.
"What?" Lily said with some heat; she imagined, quite reasonably, that Potter was about to tease her. She wondered if he'd heard her stomach growling, or whether he had merely assumed it was some terminal fault in the plumbing.
"You don't seem too keen on this survey business, is all," he said with a shrug, leaning back in his chair and stretching out his arms until they cracked. "Normally you're very… rigorous about the system. The process. Dumbledore's orders, the benefit of the school, and all that jazz."
"Normally we're not being forced to record the opinions of people who don't even know how to spell."
"The illiterate are people, too, Evans," said Potter with false sobriety, reaching up to adjust his glasses, apparently unable to stay still for a single moment. "It's up to us brilliant souls to record their vital contributions to society."
He grabbed a sheet from the middle of the pile and gave a bark of laughter. "Listen to this one: 'Professor McGonagall is the most striking witch I've ever had the joy to feast my eyes upon' – hang on, that sounds like Sirius. Not very original, is he?"
"Hmph," Lily agreed, propping one leg across the other and swinging her foot. She transferred her gaze to the stack of parchment awaiting their proper attention, and sighed heavily indeed. This would take till breakfast, it would, probably through breakfast, knowing her luck. It'd serve Dumbledore right if these surveys made her starve to death. Her stomach growled its agreement.
"Not hungry are you, Evans?"
"Hardly," Lily lied, for no reason other than a vague desire to provoke Potter. Provocation could lead to an argument that could lead to further procrastination from the eventual task of having to actually go through the bloody surveys.
"Somehow, I don't believe you're being entirely truthful with me."
From the corner of her eye, Lily could see Potter's infuriating smirk, and she was just about to think of something really scathing to say in response when the git had the nerve to reach out and still the swinging of her leg. He left the warm weight of his hand there for a moment, heavy against Lily's calf, right until she came to herself and slapped him away.
Hardly deterred, Potter lounged back in his chair, a faint smile playing about his lips. "I do believe you're a tad peckish, Evans. And I don't think I can in all conscience allow the Head Girl to go hungry, even in the face of all this tempting paperwork."
Lily, who had very deliberately crossed her legs the other way, harrumphed. "Maybe I'll just go off and scrounge up some food by myself, and leave you to your tempting paperwork, Potter. Do enjoy." She threw her quill to the desk and made to stand up, but Potter grabbed her arm.
"Don't you dare leave me with this terrifying survey, you heartless beast. Do you really think I'd get anything done without you around to make me?"
Lily paused, half out of her seat. Potter had a point. He knew it too, the berk. Beneath those round, beseeching eyes, a dimple pinched in at the corner of his mouth. Clearly the Head Boy was working hard to keep a straight face. Well, at least he was working at something.
Slowly, and with much rolling of the eyes, Lily sank back down into her seat. She flattened the parchment against the desk and attempted to focus. "So where do we begin?"
Potter cleared his throat and adjusted his spectacles importantly: "I think we should begin by assuming Dumbledore's off his rocker. And after that, I vote we leave off for a while and get some food."
Lily thought about this, and the fact that they'd only started working five minutes ago, then looked at the heap of parchment and was decided. "Done. But where can we find food at this hour?"
Potter shrugged, turning an innocent face on Lily, who cocked an eyebrow and gazed right back. "I wasn't born yesterday, Potter. You've been sneaking food for years. Now spill, if you know what's good for you."
Potter needed no more persuasion. His face split into a grin. "The kitchens it is, my dear Head Girl. And not a moment too soon. Just imagine it," he said as he led the way out of their cramped little office. "Never visiting the school kitchens! A modern tragedy."
Lily followed, feeling more than slightly guilty. She shouldn't be encouraging this. She was Head Girl. She had responsibilities and duties, and examples to set. Her stomach took that moment to roar its disagreement.
"Quiet, Evans, or they'll find us out!" called Potter from ahead, laughter in his voice.
Lily's scowl slid into a smile despite her best efforts, and it was little consolation that Potter didn't actually witness the fruits of his labours. She spent the rest of the trip contemplating all those reasons why she should never, ever find Potter amusing, stopping only when she walked into his back.
"Whoa there," said Potter, turning and setting her right with steady hands. His mouth curled into a grin as Lily flushed and muttered an apology. "It's quite all right. Only I never thought I'd see someone more desperate for food than Worm – er, Peter."
Lily stared pointedly at him, having quite regained her balance, and found herself vaguely amused when Potter came to and released her arms with a blush of his own.
"'Worm-er-Peter'?" she said wryly. "I've heard some fairly awful nicknames over the years, but that one would have to take the cake." (She took a moment to think longingly on cake: chocolate cake, carrot cake, delicious, delicious cake.)
Potter stiffened, taking mock offence (and a sheepish step back), and reclined against a fairly innocuous portrait of a bowl of fruit. "If you're jealous, Evans, all you have to do is ask. I'll give you a nickname of your own."
Shaking her head, Lily was appalled to find that grin stuck back on her lips like somebody had cast a very unsporting Permanent Sticking Charm. "Just call me Lily, why don't you," she grumbled, feeling that she had conceded a great deal of ground.
"Only if you call me James," said Potter, and he was rather more serious.
"Fine," said Lily, feeling a bit uncomfortable. She cleared her throat, peering up and down the corridor. "Now, James, are you going to get me food or will you risk inciting my considerable wrath?"
"Can I do both?" asked James with another cheeky wink, but didn't wait for the explosive response. He turned and gave a lazy scratch to the pear in the portrait without another word. The pear, which was rather large and green, began to squirm about, and Lily blinked with surprise as it turned into a door handle. Even after all these years, unexpected magic still gave her a thrill.
"This feels a bit Alice in Wonderland," she said as she climbed through the portrait hole and into the kitchens.
"Alice in What What?" asked James distractedly as he surveyed the bustling hive of elvish activity with what could only be described as boyish glee. "Excellent! I spy treacle tart!"
"Where?" said Lily, gazing about the room with wonder. She had never had much contact with the Hogwarts house elves. To tell the truth, she probably wouldn't have even known they existed if she hadn't flicked to that particularly page of Hogwarts: A History.
"In my hands," James said proudly, taking a tray from a particularly obsequious house elf. "Cheers, Blinky," he said to the house elf in question, and gave him a sharp little salute that the elf promptly returned.
Lily laughed; she couldn't help herself. James turned to her, looking inordinately pleased. He didn't say anything, though, and Lily didn't either, giving the kitchens a final once-over before following James' tray out the door.
"Where to now?" asked James, balancing the tray on one hand as he pushed his glasses up his nose and beamed at Lily.
"I should send you straight to Dumbledore's office," Lily said, trying and failing to inject disapproval into her voice. "You've obviously come down here before."
James laughed. "This is our second home! Not that you needed to hear that," he added hastily. "But remember, if you put me in permanent detention, you won't get any pudding." With a daring grin, he grabbed the tray handles and bolted down the corridor. Lily was off and after him before she'd made the conscious decision to move.
"Bring – me – back – my – tart!" Lily yelled down the dark corridor. "I mean it, Pott–"
"Miss Evans," interrupted a familiar voice from the darkness. Lily froze mid-stride, stomach churning with a potent mixture of embarrassment, guilt, and ravenous hunger. She turned, straightening her robes, to smile weakly at Dumbledore.
"Professor," she began, trying very hard to keep her breathing even. "I was just – er–"
"We're scouting the corridors, Professor," panted James, skidding back into view. The tray of desserts had somehow vanished; his hands were empty. "You can't be too careful with these Hufflepuffs." He gestured down the corridor in the general direction of the Hufflepuff common room. "We read some disturbing things in their surveys, sir, some highly disturbing things. Bloody badgers."
Lily looked to the ceiling and sighed.
When Dumbledore spoke, there was a strong hint of a smile in his voice. "Such enthusiasm from my Head Boy and Girl. I must declare myself impressed."
"Let nobody say we're not dedicated, sir," said James, placing a hand on Lily's shoulder with a roguish wink, and Lily almost snorted as a tart fell out of his bulging pocket. She glanced at James, and he glanced right back, and they both looked up at the Headmaster with matching wide eyes.
Dumbledore pointed to the tart with some interest. "Is that treacle?"
"Yes, Professor," said Lily, elbowing James in the side as his straight face wobbled violently.
"Excellent," said Dumbledore. "Quite excellent." When the Headmaster returned his gaze to James and Lily, his eyes were twinkling behind those half-moon glasses. "Well, don't let me distract you," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "We wouldn't want those badgers getting into mischief, would we?"
Lily stared after Dumbledore as he padded off in the direction of the kitchens. She turned back to James, who looked quite as amazed, and rather impressed.
"Great man, Dumbledore," said James, digging his hands into his pockets and producing a range of fluff-encrusted puddings. He stuck one in his mouth and chewed with relish. Lily looked on, vaguely repulsed.
"Oh, sorry, do you want one?" asked James apologetically, trawling through his other pocket and producing a fairly fluffless tart. Lily stared from it to James, whose face was so hopeful, and made her decision.
"Thanks," she said, taking a bite as James continued stuffing his face with more dubious fare. "What happened to the tray?" she asked when she'd finished the tart and James had emptied his pockets.
"Shoved it behind a suit of armour," said James with a grin. "I heard Dumbledore's voice, panicked, and ran back, taking only the time to fill my pockets with treats."
"My hero," drawled Lily, but couldn't help smiling back at James. "You're covered with crumbs, by the way. Here –"
Without stopping to think, Lily reached out and brushed the corner of his mouth with her thumb. James blinked, once, twice, and then Lily remembered to remove her hand. (She blamed the sugar rush.)
"Smooth, Evans," said James, who was smirking like the prat Lily had momentarily forgotten him to be, and she suddenly remembered how to scowl. She crossed her arms and made to walk away, but James reached out before she could go.
"What do you want, Potter?" Lily demanded, shelving her embarrassment behind the usual front of irritation.
James sighed and ruffled a hand through his hair in obvious frustration. "Don't be like that, Lily. We had a good time tonight." Before Lily could launch into protest, James held up his hand and smiled at her. "Don't even say it. I've never seen you smile so much. And I don't care if you were laughing at me or with me; it's brilliant either way."
Lily flushed and looked away, toeing at a forgotten tart on the ground. When she dared glance up at James, she found him beaming, and rather closer than she remembered. She uncrossed her arms and pushed at James's chest with a single finger until he took a step back, face suddenly uncertain.
"Unless your clothes are hiding more of those tarts, you hold no interest for me, Potter," Lily said sweetly, grabbing the collar of James's robes and pulling his head down to hers. As soon as his brain snapped into gear, James placed his hands about her waist and made to kiss her, but Lily placed a finger against his lips.
"Tarts," she said primly and pushed James away. She crossed her arms and leaned back against the wall as James gaped at her.
"You are not funny, Lily Evans," he said with a shake of his head, "but I forgive you, for I am magnanimous and noble and you'd best remember it." Next minute he dropped to the floor, grabbed the abandoned tart, and proffered it to Lily with a flash of his cheeky smile. "Tart?"
Lily was just reaching down to flick James on the top of the head when Dumbledore strolled back down the corridor. The Headmaster paused, taking a moment to absorb the scene. Lily, heart pounding, looked at James, who was down on bended knee with the tart in the air between them. She plucked the tart from his hand and offered it to Dumbledore.
"Don't mind if I do, Miss Evans," said Dumbledore, and walked off without another word, nightcap swaying as he hummed some inscrutable tune.
"Merlin," said James, climbing up from the floor as if entirely unaffected by Dumbledore's brief intrusion. "I would have eaten the tart if you didn't want it, Lily."
"Well," said Lily, who felt her flush would never fade, "good thing we know where the kitchens are." She stared across at James, her skin prickling hotly where his hands had held her. James gazed back, eyes warm even as they narrowed into wicked slits.
"Race you to the kitchens," he said, crouching into a mock starting position.
"You know I'll win."
"You know I'll let you."
"I'll call Dumbledore back, he can judge."
But James had already started running down the corridor, and Lily had no choice but to bolt after him and make every effort to trip him up. She'd never let James win yet, and she wasn't about to start tonight. She might, however, give him a very gracious runner-up prize - and then a kiss once he'd finished with the surveys.