Disclaimer: I've prayed, I've begged, I've pleaded, I've even wished on a falling star…and I'm still not J.K. Rowling.

Damn.

Ah well, looks like you'll have to settle for this. R&R, my lovelies! Oh and just so you know, I'm constantly editing my stories so some minor things may be altered. I am forever readjusting sentences. Such is the life of a wannabe English major like yours truly.

Mere Acquaintances
Written 10/24/2007

It had been a very good day for Lily Evans. A long day, perhaps, but still a very good day in all.

That same morning, she'd managed to tame her curly tresses for once (that was a big feat in itself), her uniform hugged her in all the right places, and, after receiving her grades from all of her exams, she discovered that she'd passed with flying colors.

She had also won a vile of Felix Felicis after brewing the perfect potion for Slughorn, even though she was sure Severus Snape had one-upped her that time. But, Lily Evans was Slughorn's favorite—even she couldn't challenge that assertion. Snape didn't even stand a chance.

To add the cherry to her sundae of pure perfection, Amos Diggory (the 'hunk of Hufflepuff') winked at her—twice! That precise moment was followed by the only blemish of the day, and even that didn't seem like such a big deal in the grand scheme of things.

It had come at her like a bat out of hell as she strolled down the halls with James Potter, her one-time rival and archenemy for the prior half-dozen years. It was no secret to all of Hogwarts that James fancied (he had used that dreaded word that begins with 'l') her. His 'professions of affection' had come in every form imaginable.

Obviously, he'd thought his charm and wit would work on her as it had every other girl he'd encountered. What he didn't seem to comprehend was that she was different.

The sweet, romantic gestures that made the other girls swoon caused Lily to cringe from the predictability. She wasn't the kind of girl who read trashy romance novels until her eyes got tremendously sore or swooned at the sight of a bouquet of the reddest roses, and she most definitely did not melt over a meaningless card filled with trite poetry.

More than anything, she wanted someone who was possessed the same amount of fervor for the things that she was interested in. She wanted someone that she could have profound conversations with but then do a complete 360 and make her burst into sidesplitting laughter. She longed for someone who would amaze her with his original approach to life and love. She would be the first to say that the candidates for the aforementioned position had been few and far between.

But the years had rolled by and brought about numerous changes, one of them being Lily's thoughts of resentment and anger towards the handsome Gryffindor. This change was partially due to the fact that they were Head Girl and Head Boy, thus somewhat forced to spend time with one another.

Some time after the start of their seventh year, though she could not give the precise time or date, James had transformed into the man she had continuously sought after. The excessive pranks and crude jokes were replaced with gentleman-like behavior, allowing her to see a rare form of James.

This year, he would hold the door open for any female in his presence, not just her. He would willingly tutor the struggling younger students and even give them spare flying lessons. And the most surprising moment by far came when he interrupted a duel between two fifth year students.

The situation had been terribly familiar.

One of the students, a male Slytherin, had called a Ravenclaw's girlfriend a mudblood.

Despite his hatred of that term and all that it represented, he separated the two and took house points. Even though his jaw had been locked and his fists had been clenched the entire time, he had kept his temper to a minimum. That day, he proved to her and the rest of Hogwarts that he was, in fact, the perfect choice for Head Boy.

It would be fair to say that she'd recognized and even acknowledged the positive change within him. He still flirted…a lot…but unlike before, he knew when to back off. Sometimes—she was sure that he noticed—she would come up with a playful retort of her own.

After years of perpetual bickering, they were finally comfortable in each other's company and the two struck up something like a friendship, but sometimes it seemed like it was more. A delighted James could see this new revolution plainly, while Lily…well, not so much.

Needless to say, it shocked her when Amos Diggory (after giving Lily the first wink), approached her tentatively as she talked and leisurely walked with James. He touched her elbow to capture her attention and requested a private conversation in the nearest corner of the corridor, but not out of James' earshot.

"Hey, so…er, what's with you and Potter?" Amos Diggory asked her with an arched eyebrow and an unreadable expression. Lily could only gawk at him, confusion evident on her face.

"What do you mean 'what's with us'? We're friends! Not even that, per se. It's more like…mere acquaintances." Amos simply nodded in return, looking somewhat relieved.

He and Lily talked for another ten minutes or so, leaving a miffed James to wander down the passageway alone. She watched his back as he walked away, his head bowed, shoulders a little slumped, and looking as though his dreams had been crushed by that part of her conversation. To him, it felt like they had.

What Lily didn't see was the anguish in his murky hazel eyes as she silently prayed that the little incident wouldn't set them back to where they had once been. His company was rather enjoyable (she would never let him in on that little secret; no need to stroke his ego) and while he could still irk her like no other, she didn't want to hurt his feelings.

She had spent most of the day in the Gryffindor common room with her friends catching up on any gossip she had missed from living in the Head dorms. Although she missed them terribly, sometimes she was grateful for the silent refuge of having her own private room.

She wasn't quite sure if it was coincidence or not, but she hadn't seen James all day since that episode with Amos. Still, they would be patrolling tonight and she brushed everything off. If there were anything wrong, she would find it out then. Glancing at her muggle wristwatch, she noted that it was already time to leave.

There was only one problem: no James.

If this had been the Potter from two years ago, she would've expected behavior like this. But since this year—since his change of demeanor—she knew that it was very unlike him to neglect his Head duties. Every night before rounds, he would patiently wait for her by the portrait hole or tap her on the shoulder.

For a moment, she worried, but it quickly fled her mind with a shake of the head. He was probably out making tomfoolery with the other three Marauders and would most likely show up eventually, maybe a good hour or two into the job.

Carrying her wand readily in her left hand, she exited through the portrait hole and started down the hallway, confident that her partner would join her in due course.

After an hour and a half of tedious patrolling, she'd uncovered four couples in various 'intimate' positions and dealt out 3 detentions, but there was still one nagging problem.

James was still missing.

His absence caused all kinds of thoughts and emotions to run through Lily's head: anger from his negligence, relief from his nonattendance—at times, she enjoyed his company far too much for her liking, but primarily disappointment.

This was what she had been expecting to happen from the start of the year when she noticed the gleaming Head Boy badge pinned to his robe. This was the version of James Potter she knew all too well. He could only be reliable for so long before returning to his ruffian past; some things never changed.

To be honest, it was sort of a reprieve for Lily. She could feel herself getting attached to James. Too attached for her liking. To have him screw up meant that the order of her world was restored. She had an excuse to reprimand and despise him all over again.

Pushing the aggravating thoughts of him from her mind for the umpteenth time that night, she turned at the bend of the corridor and continued with the rounds. Just as she was about to place her foot on the bottom step of the moving staircase, something caught her eye.

At the end of the hallway, she noticed a wide open door and walked cautiously toward it, wand at the ready. It would be strange to find a couple snogging there; most have their wits about them to at least shut the door for privacy. Perhaps it was the Marauders?

Aha, caught at last! She would finally discover what they were up to and bust them with great pleasure.

She was close, so close, but she couldn't hear anything. The lights were out as well and her suspicions—as well as her senses—heightened. Even the Marauders couldn't possibly be this quiet.

Without entering, she tried to peer inside but it was too dark. Carefully, she took a step forward.

Bad idea.

A hand pressed hard against her back and she was unexpectedly plunged into a sea of black. She rotated herself around to face the door and made a mad dash for it, but she was a step too slow.

Before all light from the passageway faded into complete darkness, she caught the glimpse of a masculine hand darting out of sight. All she could do was listen as a low voice muttered a charm that even she, the top student in all of her classes, had never heard of before.

Let it be known that Lily was not the type to easily panic under most situations. However, most of those situations had not involved blind abduction.

Her heart was hammering violently against her chest and she was convinced that if anyone passed the room, they would surely hear it. She aimed to swallow, only to discover that her mouth was parched and all she could ingest was air.

Breathing.

There was breathing, heavy breathing...and it wasn't coming from her own lungs.

So she wasn't alone after all—and she wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

Something warm, similar to steam, was velvety against her cool skin. She could feel the tiny hairs on the nape of her neck prickle out of fear and apprehension. Yet through all the nervousness, the rhythm of the slow inhale and exhale pants behind her were soothing.

A rough-textured hand touched the small of her back, massaging the tense muscles with circular motions. The hand traveled up and along her spine, setting each nerve beneath it ablaze. She knew she shouldn't be reacting this way. She didn't even know who the person was that was sedating her with his every touch.

Her eyelids closed little by little, but she could see a faint light spreading throughout the room. A hint of a fragrance flooded her senses: vanilla. Warm, sugary vanilla drifted in the air around her and she knew that candles were behind it.

Now that she would be able to identify the person, her mind began to debate. Should she turn around and face the unknown? Should she make a run for the door despite the likelihood that the effort would be futile? Curiosity got the best of her. She promptly swiveled around and what she saw was breathtaking.

Illuminated by the light of at least 100 small candles, a shirtless James Potter stood opposite her in the unfurnished room wearing only faded jeans. The fire was emitting shadows across his face and bare chest. His hair was exceptionally chaotic as the dim light flickered through it, exposing a messy combination of gold and onyx. His skin looked radiant and perfect, no longer the milky white viewed in broad daylight.

The soft glow did wonders at revealing his carved abs and toned arms while the darkness outlined his broad shoulders and dipped into the appropriate muscular valleys. His hazel eyes were dark, but still held their mischievous twinkle. A genuine smile--not his trademark smirk, not his mischievous grin--adorned his lips.

To put it plainly, he was the embodiment of a classic Greek God.

No words escaped his mouth as his closed the remaining gap between them, staring unswervingly into her eyes. He glanced down, surveying her traditional school robe, and his hands grabbed at the loose material and pulled upwards until her body was rid of it. She still had on her basic uniform, save the maroon and gold tie, the black sweater, and the top two buttons of her white shirt.

Once more, he glanced down, appraising her.

Lily hated this, the feeling of dissection and assessment. He was a foul and perverse lad yet at the same time, there was something about him that was so irrefutably alluring. She wanted to hex him, curse at him, beat him to a fine pulp for scrutinizing her so, but she found herself suddenly dumbstruck in his presence.

His gaze returned to her face and she could feel herself coloring from the intensity. Many, many times had he looked at her, watched her from up close or across the room, but he'd never looked at her like that.

Seemingly satisfied with what he saw, his next move caught Lily completely off guard.

Soft lips grazed her forehead and slid down to her right cheek, pressing ever so gently against the tender plane. Her eyes were drifting shut but she knew his were still wide open, unblinking. The stubble of his facial hair was coarse when he pressed his cheek to hers, all the while scattering kisses along the edge of her ear and nibbling lightly on her lobe.

Lily's knees were on the verge of buckling and his fingers gripped at her waist, backing her up to the nearest wall for support. Her eyes flew open when her back collided with the cold stone and went even wider when his lips targeted her neck. Air seemed to catch in her throat and her lungs seemed to constrict when she felt his tongue flicker over an exceptionally sensitive spot.

Suddenly, his eyes met hers with a staggering look and she realized (to her horror) that she just moaned. Loudly.

A smirk fell upon his lips when a blush tinged her cheeks pink, but he resumed his work on her neck, sucking and biting at her skin. The actions were becoming more brazen with each passing second and each low groan and heavy sigh that freely escaped her lips.

No longer were his lips caressing her neck. Instead, he was placing light kisses along the collar of her button down shirt. He went as low as the cloth would allow him, once again using the skill of his tongue to trigger a moan from her.

It was different; this time, it was actually a word. A word that, in spite of their recent camaraderie, was still foreign to her tongue.

"James."

He didn't lift his head, but she could feel his smile against the upper region of her chest and was sure her heart rate could rival that of a horse racing in a derby.

With a sharp gasp, she watched as he lifted his hand to her shoulder and pushed the cotton material aside, barely revealing her lacy pink bra strap. His long finger then shifted the strap to join the bunched fabric of her shirt, and he lowered his head to distribute kisses where the strap had once been.

He was driving her bloody crazy.

Yes, she was still a virgin and yes, she'd felt a burning desire for someone before, but never had it felt like this. Her body ached for him to touch and caress her as only he knew how.

And damn it, he understood the effects of his actions. He knew that this torturous pace, this brutal tantalizing, made her want him in ways that she would never admit under any other circumstance.

And deep down, she hated him for it. She hated his ability to control her with a scanty touch of the hand or merging of the lips. Gods, he hadn't even kissed her on the mouth and she was already melting in his grasp.

But oh, how she loved the feeling. The sensation of his lips against her skin was pure rapture and she felt as if she were on cloud nine when he swirled his tongue on each surface.

She had kissed her fair share of boys, allowing a select few of them to venture as low as her neck, and none of them caused a response such as this. James Potter certainly was gifted.

Feeling him shift, she looked down to see him standing on his knees. The top of his head was even with the undersides of her breasts and the superior portion of her abdomen.

Upon noticing the confused expression on her face, he chuckled and brought his hands to her hips. Wild, erotic thoughts crossed her mind when his head came to rest against her flat stomach and he appeared to be inhaling her scent as if it were the last thing he would ever do.

She bit back a smile, secretly touched by his tenderness, but it faded from her lips when she felt his fingers tugging at the hem of her shirt. Believing that it was a hint, her hands reached for the fold where his fingers now rested. However, he had other plans in store for he swatted them away.

And for the second moment that night, his compelling stare returned to her eyes, and for the first time ever, she saw him. Really saw him.

Emotions raw and swirling like leaves in a whirlwind, a beautiful mixture of excitement, desire, misery, and most of all…love.

With just the slightest trace of reluctance, he broke the stare and refocused on her shirt. Pulling it up to show a fair amount of skin, he paused a few centimeters above her belly button.

Just like all of the other tender moments, his mouth met her bare flesh in a delicate, yet fiery kiss. Just like all the other times, she gasped when he reached a particularly vulnerable zone. But this time when her back arched, she kissed self-restraint goodbye and gripped his long dark locks with her fingers.

Her body was engulfed in invisible flames as his tongue danced across her skin, occasionally dipping into her belly button and teasing the surrounding skin with his teeth. He placed kisses along the waistband of her skirt, going no lower. Lily wanted nothing more than to ravish him right then and there but something held her back.

Fear of rejection? No. Fear of giving too much of herself to him? Absolutely. Hell, they weren't even dating and he was slowly luring her into the palm of his hand.

So caught up in her own thoughts, she didn't detect him rising to his feet. Her hands were still tangled in his silky hair and he didn't seem to mind one bit. Her eyes parted and she met his gaze, all the while twirling the stray hairs at the nape of his neck.

"Lily."

The syllables rumbled within his chest and her heart leapt. She loved the way he said her name. So soft and easy, almost as if he were whispering it to a dandelion seed, afraid of blowing it away. No one else could pronounce it the same way and simultaneously evoke such joy in her heart. His forehead came to rest against hers and his eyes closed. They were so close, his thick eyelashes were giving her butterfly kisses.

He was waiting.

Waiting for her to make the next move, to dictate where this rendezvous would lead from here on out. Waiting for her to kiss him and return his ardor. Waiting, as always, for her.

If she were to be completely honest with herself, she'd admit that she had always wanted him. Even in their arguments, there was heat…passion. It was like a fire that could never be smothered, a thirst that could never be quenched.

Along with the want came that same old fear rearing its ugly head. What if he got what he wanted and deserted her like he'd done with Sarah, Mary, and Clarise? His name carried with it a playboy reputation. Could she really afford to give him all of her, namely her heart? Would he be worth the risk? So many questions, so few answers.

Her emerald eyes wandered over his face until he his eyes fluttered open. He was thoroughly searching her for an answer, one that she was still so unsure of. He could read her like a book and he could see that she wasn't ready, not just for anything physical, but emotional as well. Sighing, he backed away and ran a hand through his hair.

For a good while, they could only stand and try to process what just happened. It wasn't as simple as labeling it an act of seduction; she knew better than that. It was never just about sex to him. She knew that his main goal was not to conquer her body, but her heart. It was everything or nothing at all.

And she wasn't ready to wave the white flag just yet.

He gave her a long, hard look that made her think he was burning her image into his memory—her tangled hair, her pouted lips, her creased shirt.

Then he turned, retrieved his wand from the back pocket of his jeans, and mumbled the counter-curse at the door and approached it. Before he'd reached the door completely, he did a half turn and stared directly into her eyes, adoring hazel colliding with lust filled green.

The question that would leave his mouth as he departed would haunt her daily thoughts and nighttime dreams for weeks to come.

"Since when do 'mere acquaintances' do that?"

A/N: Just a little scene I thought up out of the blue. Hope you liked it! I'm seriously considering a follow-up story, most likely from James' perspective this time. I highly doubt it will be as long as this, but who knows. My stories have a tendency to grow at a supernatural and inexplicable rate, haha. I already have a scenario building in my mind in case I do decide to do a part deux. What do you think? Should I leave it at this (for imaginative purposes) or do a second part? Review and let me know, it would be greatly appreciated!

Edit: I went through this again and saw several mistakes, so I just had to revise.