Disclaimer: I disclaim! I lay no claim! I declare that I do, in fact, disclaim!

A/N: Ok folks, these thought have been rumbling around in my head. So here I am, writing them.

Angst is a Girl's Best Friend

Sitting in potions that afternoon was, quite literally, hell for me.

There was James Potter, a row in front of me, and slightly off to my left so that I got a glimpse of his profile. His very attractive profile.

It was his fault, really, that I couldn't focus, and so full of all this bloody angst. It was all because of Transfiguration.

"Shame on you, Potter, you used to be good at Transfiguration," I playfully scolded, smirking at the T he had gotten on his latest essay.

"Aw, come on love, give a guy a break. I got an O on the one before this."

He was smiling at me as he ran a hand through his hair.

Damn him and his bloody hair. It was longer than normal, and it was wavy and dark, almost jet black.

Ebony.

Him and his bloody ebony hair that looked so soft and so touchable that you would give just about anything to run your hands through it. I growled under my breath, glaring at his glorious full head of hair, all the while carelessly dumping ingredients into my cauldron.

I frowned.

"Don't call me 'love'."

It had killed me to tell him that, although I hadn't shown it. As far as the general public was concerned, Lily Evans would not allow James Potter to call her pet names.

But on the inside, I was a gooey puddle of my former self. The way the word rolled so easily off his tongue, and his hazel eyes sparkled in that way that makes it seem like all he ever sees is you…

But what would people say if they knew that now, suddenly, I fancied James?

What would my friends say?

Well, Alice would just laugh, and wish me luck…but Chelsea….Chelsea would yell and scream and tell me I was a hypocrite and that I would get my heart broken.

And she'd probably tell me that I deserved to have my heart broken.

That I was asking for it, dating a supposed play-boy like James Potter.

"You know," he said, coming closer and placing a hand on my shoulder, "We should date."

I scrunched up my nose, "Why?"

And then the bell rang, and I left.

In truth I had pretty much bolted. And now I sat behind him, the amazingly handsome James Potter, and I stared at the back of his head. I stared at the back of his head when I really should have been working on concocting some stupid potion.

But no, I was consumed by thoughts of Potter.

James had changed a lot over the years. Sure he flirted with lots of girls, but it was always just friendly. He hadn't dated anyone for a while now. And he was always nice to me. And he wasn't torturing Snape as much anymore.

He had some how wormed his way into my heart, and now I couldn't get him out of my head either.

My eyes roamed over his body, his broad shoulders, his toned arms and his weathered fingers. The marvelled at the way the hair curled, just so, at the base of his neck. I revelled in the way the light glistened in his incredibly bright hazel eyes. I memorized the curve of his smirk, and the dimple in his left cheek.

It was then that I realized James Potter was staring back at me.

Chelsea made a disgusted face and snapped at him,, "Turn your ugly mug back the other way, Potter."

But he ignored her, his gaze trained steadily on me. I felt my breath catch in my throat and I simply looked back at him, unable to say anything. Chelsea, suddenly aware something strange was happening, stopped what she was doing and stared at the two of us.

"Potter," she said, her voice low, "I told you to turn around."

But instead, James stood and walked over to me. He bent close me, so his face was only inches from mine. I felt my heart speed up. He looked into my eyes, waiting for some sign, and then next thing I knew, he was kissing me.

I heard Chelsea's out raged cry as James pulled me out of my chair. He deepened the kiss, his hands tangled in my red tresses. I raked my hands through his hair, enjoying the sensation of his mouth on mine, coupled with the exhilaration of finally getting to feel the feathery softness of his thick hair.

And then, all too soon, he pulled away, leaving me breathing heavily and yearning once more to feel his hands on me, and his lips pressed against mine.

"That," he said, a slight smirk gracing his features, "is why we should date."

A/N: Want to know an interesting little side note? If you take this situation…and change Transfiguration to English, and Potions to Chemistry, and remove the kissing…..this actually happened. Sadly, in my life the kissing was replaced by some mumbo jumbo about playing husband and wife in the school play. Real life is so anti-climactic.

Anyways, Review please.