I'm back! Ish. I don't know how much writing I'll be doing in general, but I found this partly-started fic on my computer and figured I might as well finish it. There will probably be one or two more chapters, depending on feedback, so please review! Hope you enjoy my latest pathetic LJ installment.

Cheers,

Lorraine

It's the end of his sixth year at Hogwarts, and James has finally taken it upon himself (or been nagged enough by Remus, at least) to clean out the bottom of his trunk. He has brought the thing down to Gryffindor's common room and dumped everything out on the floor, since his dormitory upstairs is far too cluttered for this to be possible. Now he begins the Herculean task of sorting it all into "keep" and "toss" piles.

After ten minutes of digging around among the filthy bits of random junk, James tries to remind himself that this will make it easier to pack and unpack his belongings.

After twenty minutes, he gives up, chucks the rest of the contents in the bin, and figures anything unimportant enough to be left at the bottom of his trunk either won't be missed, or can be replaced. After all, when Remus asks about his progress, he'll still be able to show his mate a perfectly empty suitcase.

He heads out of the castle to find his friends on the Great Lawn, where they are enjoying a few study-free hours in the sun.

Several minutes later, Lily Evans enters the empty common room. She has just come from an unpleasant bit of studying in the library. There's one Transfiguration question on her practice exam that is proving impossible to solve, and, after forty minutes of concentration, she's decided to call it a day.

The disgruntled Lily becomes more peeved when she sees the mess that's been made of the trash bin in the corner of the room. It's not that she's a neat freak—she just hates when a student is sloppy in the common room, because inevitably everyone else will follow his lead, and the shared space will become a pigsty. But she's not a priss. Honestly.

Grumbling, she walks over and squats down to pick up the various scraps and bits of glass and empty vials. She has just picked up a Chocolate Frog card for Nicholas Flamel when something catches her eye. Frowning, she reaches for the sheet of paper with her initials drawn on it.

Other than the embellished "L.E." (crossed out) and a doodle of a Snitch, the parchment is almost blank. There is a heading at the top that reads "DEFENSE AGAINST THE DARK ARTS - ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL" in small print, and a bit of writing on the opposite side of the page. She examines this more closely, and it only takes her a moment to recognize James Potter's neat, somewhat calligraphic penmanship.

Hearing the portrait swing open, Lily reflexively stuffs the scrap into a pocket, and turns to see that the newcomers are none other than the Marauders. Sirius is doing some ridiculous bit—it looks as if he's impersonating McGonagall, and Lily is almost tempted to laugh until she remembers why she is still squatting on the floor.

Standing, she calls across the room, "Oi, Potter! Is this your rubbish?"

James turns his attention to the redhead, still smiling at his friend's antics. "Hullo, Evans. Didn't see you there. What are you doing on the floor?"

"Cleaning up your rubbish, I gather, Prongs," volunteers Remus, ever trying to keep the peace.

"And why on earth should she think it's my rubbish, Moony? There are plenty of lazy slobs 'round here who could have done it—you lot included. Wormtail and Padfoot are easily as messy as I am, and why shouldn't they be? Gryffindors are supposed to be courageous, not tidy," James rejoined merrily.

"Well, yes, Potter, I suppose you're right. But not every lazy Gryffindor slob throws away quite so many Quidditch diagrams. Not to mention the veritable mountain of Jelly Slug wrappers."

"Well, Evans, that is my favorite sweet. Kind of you to notice. But I maintain that the trash could be someone else's—Frank is on the Quidditch team, and we all know what an industrious bugger he is. Why are you so quick to point the almighty finger of blame at my own poor self?"

"I've recognized your handwriting, you twit, and we both know that most other Gryffindors—present company excluded, perhaps—would have been smart enough to pick up after themselves."

"Are you insulting my intelligence, Evans?"

"Would I do such a thing, Potter?"

James merely glared at Lily for a moment, unable to formulate a witty response. Then he grinned as a thought occurred to him. "You know, Evans, this is really all Moony's fault."

Remus gave a long-suffering sigh as Lily rolled her eyes. "Of course, Potter, Remus forced you to make a mess of the common room. That explanation makes perfect sense. Why didn't I think of it?" she responded sarcastically.

James opened his mouth to retort but Remus calmly intervened. "I think what James means to say is that I encouraged him to clear out his trunk, and that's what he was doing when he left the clutter. Ergo, my fault."

"Alright, Remus, I can't exactly blame you for telling this arse to sort out his belongings," she said, gesturing to a rather indignant James. "I'd say the fault still lies with you, Potter. But it's the end of the year, and I've mostly straightened things up, so let's not make a fuss about it. Carry on with your packing, lads, and try not to leave the common room in shambles, yeah? Cheers." Lily gives Remus a pat on the shoulder as she heads up to the girls' dormitory, leaving James to shrug at Sirius and Peter before the four boys trudge up the opposite staircase.

Once at her four-poster bed, Lily lets out a deep breath as she resigns herself to the task of packing. Though not the worst part of leaving Hogwarts for the summer, collecting her belongings is a chore which Lily would easily trade for taking an extra exam, or writing out a month of prefects' schedules. She has never been good at travelling light, and while magic does make things easier—may Merlin bless whoever invented the Shrinking Charm—her trunk never seems to be quite sufficient to hold all of her things. With only one exam left, though, she has little excuse to put it off, and she knows that the next couple of days will be easier if she gets a head start. And so she begins.

An hour later Lily has stowed away the majority of her clothes, and is deliberating over whether to keep a pair of cowboy boots that had been a hand-me-down from her sister. Eventually she decides they are worth saving and throws them into her trunk, shutting the lid after them in order to take a break. She flops down on her bed, digging in her pocket for a tube of chapstick when she comes across the bit of parchment once again. She had completely forgotten about Potter's doodle, but now she ponders it curiously.

Why should James Potter be mucking about, drawing my initials? she thinks. Maybe they aren't my initials at all, though. Maybe they are someone else's… Louisa Epstein? She's a second year. Probably not. That would be creepy, even for Potter. Lily shuddered inwardly. Perhaps it's not initials at all, but an acronym or something? He and his friends have those stupid nicknames, so who knows what other cryptic titles they have...

Lily is still trying to puzzle out this possibility when James himself comes up the steps (Merlin knows how) and through the door, a blasé apology on his lips. "Look Lily, I am sorry for leaving that mess down there. I know I could have just magicked—what are you looking at?" he asks, happy to change the subject.

As he came in Lily was not paying enough attention to hide the scrap, and now she simply stares dumbly at it in her hand, as if she had forgotten it was there. "Hmm? Oh, it's just a spare bit of parchment I found." She pauses, looking at him. "I think it might be yours, actually—looks like your handwriting. And there's a nice drawing of a Snitch. Maybe it got onto my shoe when I was tidying up downstairs, or something," she shrugs.

"Ah, well you might as well chuck it then. That's where I meant for it to end up," he says easily, turning away. "Sorry again about the clutter. S'later, Evans."

"Righto. Only, I did wonder—what does 'L.E.' stand for?" she asks innocently, just as he reaches the doorframe. James pivots slowly, and Lily sees his Adams Apple bob once in his throat. But when his gaze meets hers, he simply looks questioning. She continues, "Well, I mean, obviously I know that for me, they are my initials. But I can't see why you should be doodling my initials on your O.W.L. scrap parchment… so it must stand for something else. Eh?"

She can almost hear the gears in his brain whirring to come up with an excuse, but apparently none is forthcoming. He clears his throat. "Uhm, well, now that you mention it… they sort of are, I guess, your initials. Ha," he laughs uncomfortably, and when she looks at him, nonplussed, he ploughs forward unable to meet her eye. "Ah, come on Lily, you know I've liked you for ages. Sure, it would have been great if you hadn't found out that I draw my cru—your initials like some fourth year girl, but all the same you must know that I fancy you," he smiles, unsure, and glances up to gauge her reaction.

She begins slowly. "What do you mean, you 'fancy' me? Present tense, as in… currently?"

He gives an awkward nod-and-shrug combo, and she opens her mouth to respond. Then she closes it. She tries again, and this time forms a short question: "For how long, then?"

James smiles sweetly at her. Now that she is somewhat uncomfortable, he is feeling more in control. "Well, at least since second year I'd say. At eleven, I was still in the 'girls are gross' stage, but by twelve there was no resisting the stubborn charm of Miss Lily Evans."

"Ha. Yeah. Okay, Potter, pardon me if I am finding this a bit hard to believe."

"Hard to believe that I've fancied you for four years? Even though I have been asking you out for four years? You can play hard to get all you want, Lily, but don't play dumb," he taunts, not unkindly.

She looks uncomfortable at this, and offers her version of the truth. "I… I always thought you had just asked me out to get Severus even more riled up. Or, if I were feeling particularly generous, I figured it was sort of a pity offer, you know? A 'your best friend just betrayed you in front everyone so let me buy you a butterbeer' kind of thing." She smiles weakly, but it soon turns into a frown.

James realizes after a moment that she isn't going to say anything, and he scrambles to fill the silence. "Oh. Yeah, I guess I could understand why you'd think that. And I guess there probably was an element of anti-Sniv—that is, anti-Snape sentiment involved… but really, I just wanted you to like me. And I figured you might need a new person to hang about with after that git treated you so badly. I suppose I didn't go about it in the best way possible, but I rarely do go about things in the best way possible especially when Sirius is involved and I was so angry at Snivellus and you looked so pretty and angry and I just didn't know–"

Lily cuts in as he rambles on. "Potter, Potter, don't worry about it. It's kind of refreshing to see you dithering about like a girl," she smiles when he blushes. Then she remembers the subject of his blathering and promptly blushes herself. "The thing is, uh, James… I am genuinely shocked that your interest in me is not some gimmick. Honestly I'm expecting Sirius to come in and yell 'GOTCHA!' any minute now."

"That does sound like something he would do, but I promise it's not a joke. It's never been a joke. You're probably a bit weirded out right now, though, so maybe I'd better just go… keep the drawing if you'd like, or chuck it. I've got others," he grins jokingly, though Lily suspects he may be serious.

She laughs shortly and looks at the drawing once more. Smiling, she looks up at James again. "You know, maybe I'll keep it. It is an impressive Snitch." As she pockets the doodle, she stands up and James starts toward her, looking as if he wants to ask her something. But after a couple of paces he thinks better of it, and stops in the middle of the room.

Clearing his throat, "Right, well, good luck with this packing then Evans. I'll see you in the Transfiguration exam tomorrow." And leaving it at that, James gives her a silly salute and ambles out the door. Lily watches his back as he goes, and—when she is sure he's to the common room—retrieves the sketch from her pocket again, biting her lip as she considers the strange conversation that just occurred.