A/N: You know, I tell myself I'm gonna stop doing this and every time, I do it. So, let's just think carefully here: If I were J.K. Rowling, wouldn't I be working on the 7th book? Though so…punk.
This takes place the winter of James and Lily's seventh year. Yeah, yeah, cliché fluffy fic, but hey, it happens. REVIEW!!!
.x. I'll Be Dreaming Of A White Christmas .x.
"You're crazy, Potter," she said, looking at the drenched boy. He reminded her of a puppy a bit, with the look in his brown eyes. The way he looked at her…it made her sick sometimes, and other times…other times it made her flush. It obstructed her breathing and made her heart stop, just for an instant, but it's enough. That momentary dropping of her defenses was enough to make her hate him, and she had to admit that she hated the way she hated him, as well.
"Explain that to me, Evans."
"You just chased me through the snow to wish me good luck on a Herbology test – Potter, you do realize that you're not taking N.E.W.T. level Herbology, correct?"
"Yes."
"And that you're going to be late to…wherever you're going?"
"Not going to be late, Evans, I've got a free period."
"You mean that you're out here when it's well below freezing – and very, very wet – when you could be in front of the fire in the common room?"
"Yes."
Lily rolled her eyes, thanking Godric that her cheeks were already pink from the cold. She looked at him, frowning half-heartedly. "Is your hair soaking because of the snow or your shower?"
"Both, but mostly the snow."
Against her better judgment, Lily reached up, standing on her tiptoes, and ran her fingers through his normally unruly hair. It was sopping wet, and select strands had even frozen. Standing close to him, she realized that he was shivering violently – he wasn't wearing winter robes. "Go back inside, James. It's too cold out."
James grinned; Lily realized that her hand was still on the side of his head and that her face was level with his. "Aw, you do care, Evans," he said sarcastically. The smirk slowly fell from his lips as they stood there, seemingly frozen in place. "You know you want to," he whispered, and before she had a chance to respond, she had felt his cold lips on hers, and, for a moment before they parted, she thought that the cold might just have been an illusion. Then he pulled away and she let herself regain her usual stature as well as her nearly freezing internal temperature.
"It's too cold to be out here if you don't need to be, James." Her heart was doing it again. It was doing what she referred to as, for lack of a better term, "the jumpy thing." He slipped a hand into hers – both hands were pink and it hurt a bit to mold them together, although they did so without processing the act.
"You really do like me, you know."
"What makes you think that?" She could see her breath coming out in a semi-translucent cloud and she thought that, if he was going to embrace her, he might as well do it sooner rather than later, as she was certain that, pretty soon, she wouldn't be able to walk the rest of the way to the greenhouse.
"Because you used my name."
And, damn him, she thought, he was right.