DISCLAIMER: I do not, and will never, own Harry Potter.

My head was slightly tilted to the side as I wrote the long, boring letter to my parents. I couldn't help but admit that the words coming out of my mind were a little unlike me. I sounded too cheerful; jovial, in a way. I wouldn't be surprised if my mum noticed something wrong the moment she started reading.

It wasn't that I wasn't normally cheerful—overly cheerful as this letter was—but I had a lot to worry about. N.E.W.T.s were certainly something to worry about, Severus was another. I hadn't a clue what I was going to do about him. And then, there was impatient and arrogant James Potter.

He was a touchy subject for me. He had exceedingly changed over the course of the year, which utterly surprised me . . . and scared me. He always surprised me, from day to day.

James had surprised me before our little . . . alliance, or truce would be a better word. But, I hadn't actually looked behind the meaning to it—well, actually I had, but at the time he was just an arrogant (still is) git whose only talent was Quiditch and cursing anyone in the hallways—now, it seemed as how he was trying to impress me had changed.

He had always fancied me, I was sure—probably just didn't make his first move until we were older and we . . . I was more mature, as it is.

His tactics were different now. He wasn't involving the whole school now, which definitely relieved me. I didn't have to worry about Sev's feelings, or my harsh temper.

He had once taken me to Hogesmeade when none of my friends would go with me . . . I made it clear that it wasn't a date. And then there was Christmas when he had snuck me and my friends into the school kitchens along with the rest of the Marauders. We got to sample all of the Christmas-y treats.

Then, there were recent events.

I was already used to James' company. It surprised me when I realized it, but he was fun to be around, when he behaved. He wasn't the bigheaded little kid I knew anymore. He was mature—although this stage reached him a little late—and not taunting Severus anymore.

I was so accustomed to him I thought of him as one of my best friends. I didn't—don't—consider that a mistake, I just know the feelings he has for me that I didn't return.

But, the recent events are the touchy parts of his—our—situation.

I remember the day clearly, as if it was yesterday or a vivid dream. Marie and I were walking down the long hill that led to the gamekeeper's hut. We were talking excitingly about the upcoming Hogesmeade event—they were having a festival. It was an anniversary of the town.

"I can't wait!" I remember saying, crossing my arms as a chilly April breeze swept past us. It was oddly cold, I recalled. I remember wearing one of my thickest sweaters and thick jeans. I was even wearing my cloak.

"I know!" Marie buzzed, bringing her hands up to her rosy face, her teeth chattering a little. "We should get a group together! It would be perfect! We might even see Alice and Frank off each other. Oh, that would be a miracle."

I shook my head as quiet laughter emerged from my sore throat—I was still getting over a little cold. "I think Alice will be able to keep her hands to herself for the occasion. I hope, at least." I paused as Marie laughed. "So who do you have in mind for this 'group'?" I raised my hands and did quotation marks.

Her smile turned impish; her eyes gleaming a beautiful sapphire as her mind reeled. "I think that we should definitely invite Potter. Don't you think?" I rolled my eyes. I don't think she understood the definition of best friend. "Oh, Lily, you or so naïve."

"We're just friends . . ." I paused, rubbing my hands together. "Best friends."

"Best friends with limitations,"

I eyed her warily. What did she mean by 'limitations'? Sure, I had made them clear when James and I had started hanging out. No trying to make any moves on me. Period.

"Lily!"

My head shot away from Marie's smiling face. I looked into the direction of the voice. My eyes lowered as the familiar face stepped closer and closer.

"What is he doing here?" Marie hissed, obviously angry for interrupting them. I sighed and eyed her a little pleadingly.

"Give me a minute with him, 'kay?" I said. "I'll be right back."

Marie muttered something unintelligibly that sounded like: "Well, don't come back here punching me when he calls you a mudblood." I seriously hoped she didn't say that.

Severus looked miserable, to say the truth. His hair was greasier than usual; his skin looking oddly paler against the darkness of his hair and robes. He smiled weakly at me; I didn't return it.

"Er, yes, Severus?" my voice was a little shaky. I silently cursed Marie for making my heart race like a hippogriff in the sky. His black, beady, eyes looked somberly into mine.

He stepped forward, grabbing my right hand in between his. My eyebrows quirked as he did it. I attempted to pull my hand back, but his grip was strong. I felt uncomfortable while he did this. His hands were rough; some bumpy scars on the palm of his hand, most of them from cuts he had given himself during potions, trying to cut a specific ingredient.

"Lily," his voice quivered, unsure. I prompted him to say more, but I could feel my patience wearing thin. "Lily—I . . ."

"Severus, just spit it out."

Everything came out in one, fluid breath. "Lily, I'm in love with you! And I want you to pick me!" he let go of my hand and hung his head, ashamed. My body froze, absolutely surprised.

"Severus," I started slowly, avoiding his face completely. "I don't know what you mean: 'choose me'?" my eyes were towards the forbidden forest. I would do anything to get out of this position—even run in there, which at this point was my first option.

"I want you to choose me, not him. He doesn't deserve you. He doesn't even know you! He's not right for you! He's completely wrong for you—a bad influence."

An eyebrow wavered. "Who's he?" but then I paused as the rest of the words sank in. "Wait . . . and you think you're right for me . . ." I was mostly saying it to myself rather than to him. I inhaled deeply and waited for a reply.

"Yes, I'm right for you. Not Potter or any of his mates. Me. It's me who wants you . . . and who is right for you."

I shook my head. "You! You think your right for me . . . that's . . . that's . . ." I didn't want to hurt his feelings, but it seemed inevitable. I wasn't in love with him, not now, not ever. "Severus," I paused and saw the pain swelling in his face. "Sev, I'm not right for you. I. Am. Not.

"You want someone who's . . . . Who's someone that can relate to you. Someone who is a Slytherin, for one thing. Someone who isn't a . . ." I inhaled swiftly. "Mudblood."

He shook his head and pulled me into a hug. "No." So stubborn. I needed to get him off me. I started flinging my arms around, hoping someone would see my need in help. He didn't seem to notice anything. He was enjoying the moment.

I looked behind my shoulder. Marie was gone, probably went back up to the castle. Obviously this conversation was taking a long course I wasn't intending for. I croaked a little help, and then started to try and shove him.

"I'm sorry, Sev," I sighed, pity swelling in my voice. "I . . . I'm not in love with you."

The pain shot across his face like lightning, but then slowly turning into fury. "You love him, don't you? Potter." Severus nearly spat the name. He started pacing in front of me angrily, glaring at me every time he looked up.

"No." I said, while shaking my head. I felt like I was being committed for something. "But even if I did—which is completely absurd—how would it be your business? How? I'd like to know because you seem to think it is."

"Because you are my business. I love you. You're my best friend."

"Ex best friend would be a more appropriate name." I stated, my temper slowly rising. How was James and I his business? He—out of all people—should know if I fancied someone, especially James. "James is just a friend."

"Just?" his face was incredulous. "Just? How long will that last? How long will that arrogant son-of-a-bitch live with that?"

"Severus!" I screamed, my temper meeting its climax. I narrowed my eyes and continued. "It's none of your business anyway! But, how about you! What about your friends? How long will they live with you fancying me?"

His voice was like whip flash. "That is none of your business."

"So, what do we have here?"

I turned and looked to my right and groaned loudly. "James, go away," I hissed, my voice like liquid venom. "You're just going to make everything worse."

His smile was wide as if he enjoyed that. "I don't think that's possible, so I'm just going to help solve this little dispute peacefully." He twirled his wand in his hand. Oh, sure, James. That's why your wand isn't in your pocket.

"Go away, Potter." Severus snarled.

James chuckled. "I don't think I will. I feel I have to defend Evans, here, seeing as she does consider me as a friend." He paused, his smile widening. I groaned, again. "I think that'll be more than you'll ever be."

"You don't deserve her!" he shouted at calm Potter. James just smiled, not tormented at all. My mouth opened a little, but then I closed it quickly. I narrowed my eyes, waiting patiently for his retort. "You don't deserve any part of her!"

"She knows how I feel for her," he paused, his smile slowly sliding off his face as he looked in my direction. "and I know how she feels about me. I'm not going to pressure her into anything—especially loving me."

"Well, you're not the only one who loves her."

I shook my head. "Stop." I said calmly. "Stop!" they both looked in my direction. "Both of you stop! There is no competition and I am no trophy. To tell both of you the truth," my gaze lowered. "I don't love either of you. So just . . . stop."

I shook my head as I slowly came out of my reverie. I knew I had hurt James deeply—he was avoiding me. That definitely showed how much he resented being in love with me. Severus, I think, was in denial, or just hated me to the pits of hell.

I dropped my quill on the bed, flung my legs to the side, and headed for the door. I felt ashamed, embarrassed actually. I felt ashamed for hurting James and embarrassed that I wasn't confronting him. I was being childish. What would be the worst that could happen?

I found James in the Quiditch Pitch, of course. He was alone, just doing circles around the stadium; sometimes throwing a few loops or corkscrews in with it. I smiled. He was enjoyable to watch; he was an amazing player.

I was now standing in the middle of the field, turning in circles watching him. He was so absorbed. He didn't even notice me.

"Hey, Quiditch Star!" I shouted, cupping my hands around my mouth. He stopped by pulling his broom back, as if he was pulling the reigns of a horse and looked down at me. I smiled and waved him to come over.

He did reluctantly, a smug face glowering at me as he landed. I guess I did deserve that. "Hey," I smiled. His eyes narrowed, watching me cautiously.

"Hey,"

"So, I wanted to talk to you," I said, looking at his broom. I felt like I was talking to the Cleansweep, but I guess it was easier than talking to his face. "Actually, I wanted to apologize—"

"When will you admit it?" he demanded, his voice menacing and hurt. My brows furrowed in confusion. Admit what? What did I have to admit to him? What did I have to do for him to forgive me?

"Admit what?"

"Admit that you love me."

I closed my eyes for a few seconds. "James," my eyes were still closed. "Don't start . . ."

"Lily," he stated. "I know that you do. I see the way you look at me—it's the same way I look at you. I already know everything about you—all of our walls are down. I love you," he ended in a whisper. I could feel tears forming in my eyes. Wait, what was with the sympathy in me? "and I need you to admit it too. If you don't . . . I'm ready to move on. I'm done waiting."

I could barely mutter with all of the traitor tears clogging up my voice. "James," I managed to say without my voice cracking. "I can't. You're . . ." mental images of the last six years of my life flooded into my brain. James was so different from then. He was like a whole different person, just in his body.

"It's not that hard to admit," he chuckled. "believe me."

I wanted to, oh how much I wanted to. But, I just couldn't. I couldn't understand anything. How could someone, like James Potter, love boring, red headed, school absorbed, me? Apparently, Quiditch Star Potter could. For three years.

"Just say it."

"I just want you to forgive me . . ." I said slowly. The tears were gone, which helped me speak a little. "I want you to forgive me for hurting you for three years." Wait, I didn't want to say that. Butterflies were starting to form in my stomach. "I want you to forgive me for calling you arrogant," I added. My younger Lily was protesting. Did this mean . . . ? "I want you to forgive me for back in April."

James chuckled. "Is it that hard for you to say?"

I nodded. I slowly exhaled and quickly took another breath. "Say it," murmured an impatient James. I nearly smiled except there was the what he wanted me to say. That was what stopped me.

"I love you," it came out lower than a whisper. My hand instantly flew to my mouth, as if I had just cussed. My brows furrowed as I waited for the man's reaction.

A slow smile was creeping across his face. I could feel myself involuntarily blush. He turned to the side, holding out his broomstick. He eyed it, and then glanced at me. "Do you want a ride?"

I slowly lowered my hand so he could see my smile. "Sure,"

He hopped onto the broom and patted the piece of wood behind him, gesturing for me to sit down. I stepped forward, one step at a time and slowly swung my right leg over the broom and hung onto James torso tightly. I had never been on a broom before.

I could feel James' low chuckle. He obviously liked where I was holding onto him. The he kicked off the ground, hard. It nearly knocked the breath out of me. I couldn't believe how quick we had taken off.

We kept rising higher and higher. I quickly gasped, which I'm sure he heard because he chuckled again. The view was beautiful. The grass was a perfect emerald, blending in with the dark brown and greens and maroons of the forbidden forest.

We quickly dived, making me scream in anxiety and in excitement. We slowly swooped into a loop. "James!" I screamed, laughing hysterically. He chuckled again and we flew back into the air, higher this time. We were quickly leaving the stadium and heading over the forbidden forest.

"James . . . ?" I murmured cautiously. He was known to do things like this; carelessly and not carefully.

He stopped the broomstick and looked down into the forest, at least a half a mile away from the castle. We had to be at least forty feet above the trees—maybe sixty above the ground. James swung his right leg over the front of the broomstick, then. Both of his legs were dangling off the left side. Then, as if he practiced it, he swung his left leg over the broom again so he was facing me now.

I was anxious. For one, I didn't want to fall. Two: I didn't want him to fall either.

Then, he did one of the sweetest things he had ever done. He kissed me. Now, it wasn't a kiss on the lips. It was just a simple peck on the cheek, which, I am sad to say, made me blush furiously.

I was glad he hadn't kissed me on the lips. It would've ruined the moment, and would've been something I wouldn't have treasured. But this, just a simple peck on the cheek, made my heart fly; something only James Potter could pull off.

So this is what it felt like to love James Potter.

A/N: This is just a little Oneshot I had stuck in my head for a while. It's a little long, surprisingly. I couldn't believe how long I made this. I'm actually quite proud. Yay!
I also wrote this because it was a little practice for me to write from a first person's point of view. I intended in writing it in third person, but I decided against it.
So, tell me what you think!
I'll take in requests if you want to submit one. Just PM me.
~ChuddleyCanons~