A/N: Hooray for simplistic one-shot goodness! Don't expect much of this one, it was purely one of those things I wrote upon being bored. There's no depth, no hidden message. Just pure banter, denial, and maybe a few kisses here and there. Takes place fifth year. R&R?

I'd always considered myself to be one of rational behavior.

I'd never been spontaneous, spur-of-the-moment, or unpredictable in anything I did or said. My days were planned out in routine down to the exact minute. My room was as neat as a pin, my homework was always turned in on time, my hair always pulled back in a flawless pony-tail. Never had I given anyone reason to say, 'Wow, Evans has really gone off her rocker this time!'. It just was not me. I'm one of rational mind and body.

So, imagine my utmost shock when, this morning at around breakfast time, I found myself mouth to mouth with the bane of my existence, James Potter.

Disturbing, isn't it?

I had been sitting at the Gryffindor table with the usual group of chattering girls, grumpy and not quite awake at this early hour of the morning. I stirred my cornflakes with a half-hearted sigh and began to look over the plans for another smooth, mishap-less day. I drummed my fingers on the table while wishing I could be back in my bed instead of here; amidst a conversation frenzy that was flitting about my ears like the highly annoying chirping of hyperactive sparrows in Springtime.

In case you haven't guessed by now, I'm not quite a morning person.

There I remained, staring blankly ahead and lost in thought. Well, lost in thought until a voice sliced through my inward laments about the social injustices of getting up early with irksome precision.

"Alright, Evans?" asked the voice, very jovial in all its ego.

I ignored the voice, glaring at my cornflakes, now soggy as they drowned in the milk. I'd found that the first option to rationally dealing with a nuisance is to ignore it.

That is, it was the most rational option until said nuisance politely asked Emmeline Vance to scootch over before plopping right on the seat beside me.

Bugger.

Rational Nuisance Option 2: Confront nuisance and get rid of it as soon as magically possible.

I turned to him, keeping my eyes reading plain and simple hostility and asked, without further ignoring, "What do you want, Potter?"

Ah, the universal question that seems to have the same answer every single bloody time. Why did I have to ask?

"To take you out." Potter answered without an ounce of hesitation, grinning down at me as if this was obvious (Which it totally was. But I have mentioned that I was still half asleep and therefore not as coherent of thought).

With a groan I glanced back at my cornflakes, giving up all hope for a nice morning as I spotted the mushy cereal before me. Time to carry out with option number two. "Potter," I looked back at him, and was blinded by his too-bright smile, "It's seven a.m. I'm tired and unarmed with the usual insults and witty comebacks. Can't you at least give me a break for a few hours to prep before bombarding me with your antics?"

I thought he would have slumped off in defeat, but was horribly mistaken. Potter laughed loud enough to make some heads turn in our direction and I controlled the strong impulse to throw a large silencing charm his way. He always laughs at my bitter comments, for some reason. Apparently, they seem to contain humorous content in them, which I really cannot understand.

"Evans, when have I ever given you a break?" He questioned me.

While that was true, I was in no mood to let him be right. I merely glared at him some more. He stayed seated next to me.

"Think of it this way," I compromised, leaning forward and snatching a poppy seed muffin from the table, "If you leave me alone now and allow me to wake up slowly and get a better disposition about my person, then by the time you ask me out later, I may be in too good a mood to actually hex you or scream at you until I lose my voice."

He looked like he was actually considering it, but then shook his head. "I couldn't do that to you, Evans. You'd miss me too much if I left you alone if but for an hour!"

I nearly hit him right then. I mean, have I not made it clear to James Potter practically every day for the last year or so that I despise the very thought of him? Have I not emphasized my dislike for him with a large amount of curses and swear words? I often think my words are wasted on him, as are my glares and spells. However, I refused at the moment to think rationality would fail me yet.

I rounded on him, hating every bit of him that I saw--from his just-out-of-bed hair to his twinkling eyes to his wide smile--and wishing that he wasn't an attractive bloke (Any girl would be mad to deny it, but don't think I've got any soft spot for him because of it). "Leave, Potter. Now."

Thankfully, the sod seemed to have some brain cells that were still functioning, because he didn't need telling twice after that. A perk of the Evans charm, I believe. He stood, swinging his bag over his shoulder and--plucking my muffin from my hand with a wink--walked off, a slight bounce in his step that only appears after a run-in with little old me.

Turning back to my seat, muffin-less and in an even worse mood than before, I noticed the girls at the table were staring at me. I closed my eyes, rubbing my temples, inhaling and clearing all hazel-eyed, black-haired thoughts from my mind.

Much to my displeasure, Potter and I had been like that (Him bantering and I threatening) for as long as I could remember. If he wasn't so bent on making me the mother of his children, I'd probably find him decent to get along with. That is, if he didn't have an enormous ego and annoying immaturity to accompany the uncontrollable hormones.

I sat there some more, listening to the random conversations of teenagers wrapped up in their own issues of relationship troubles, but suddenly, I heard the conversations take a rather sharp turn. A slight pandemonium that made clearing my head much harder than it should have been.

I snapped my eyes open, fully prepared to verbally pummel whatever idiot was making such a loud commotion to start screams and gasps all around the Great Hall. Everyone seemed to be staring to my far left, so I followed their gazes, finding that their reason for pandemonium was rather justified.

Because there, holding my bitten muffin in his hand, was James Potter, choking and clutching at his throat.

At first glance, it looked like he was showing off, doing some weird impersonation of Severus Snape that I hadn't seen (This was odd, because Potter usually showed me his impersonations before anyone else). Yet as I took in his friends alarmed expressions and the color of Potter's face growing darker, I gradually found that this was no joke. Potter was actually choking.

I realized this about a second before he passed out cold.

That within itself gave cause for all hell to break loose at the Gryffindor table. Penny Jerkins started shrieking and Loraine Moore burst into tears. The Marauders all started swearing profusely, and no one was even bothering to take out their wands and unplug Potter's airways.

Of course, I wasn't bothering either at the time. My reaction to this was rather subdued to say the least.

Because, I hate Potter. But I didn't want to die.

So, what was I supposed to do?

I seemed to remember at that exact moment that I had taken several CPR classes over the summer and was adept at saving lives. I sor of wish that I had just not remembered. It would have made the rest of the day less complicated.

The rational me would have made use my wand (I knew plenty of spells to prevent choking). The rational me would have gotten the teacher's attention (As if the screaming wasn't enough). I could have done anything; walked away, laughed at the unconscious boy who had stalked me the last couple years, or simply stood there. All those were rational options that the real Lily would do.

Real-Lily, however, seemed to be taking a lunch break and wasn't planning on coming back any time soon.

It was because of that I found myself shoving my way through the crowd, making my way over to Potter and all but screaming in my panic for people to move out of the way. The crowd parted like the red-sea and I saw Potter lying in the floor, not breathing and not making some asinine comment at me. A first for him, I should add.

"What are you doing Evans?" Black asked worriedly as I bent over James' lifeless form.

I didn't answer, because my mind had all but shut down, something that rational minds don't usually I had explained what I was about to do, it might have been easier for me to see that there were other, much more intelligent, options when it came to saving Potter.

But clearly, intelligent thought seemed to have fled my mind at that particular moment.

I first pressed on his chest three times repeatedly, listening for breath. I repeated this about five times and still nothing.

Panic really did start wreaking through my system like a tempest. What if he died? Somehow, I didn't seem to find that all too nice a notion.

Which is probably why the next thing I did began the conversion from being one of rational thinking to one of irrational behavior. Because next thing I knew, I leaned over and pressed my mouth over Potter's without even a second of consideration.

The first thing I noticed was that this was going to be extremely awkward to explain to my friends and professors later.

The second thing; his lips were undeniably soft.

The frightened voices around me sounded only more confused. Of course, most wizards have never heard of CPR, which I suppose is not a good thing, because they were already whispering about Lily Evans trying to revive Potter with the kiss of life.

I ignored them furiously, parting Potter's lips open and breathing a half lung of air into his own. I waited three seconds, and then did it again.

All the while, I was really hoping that my poppy seed muffin had not killed him. I also found myself wondering what it would be like doing this if he wasn't passed out cold. If he was awake and--just maybe--responding fully to my lips on his own. I seemed to be liking the idea of that. At the time.

Suddenly, as I pulled James' mouth to my own once more I heard him inhale sharply and then start coughing. I sat bolt upright, detaching myself from him as he sat up, coughing and hacking up a storm.

And then the bite of muffin flew out of his mouth, hitting me square in the forehead. It just figures.

The hall, meanwhile, had gone slightly more than silent, and everyone was staring at the two of us; Me trying not to blush and James gasping for air and staring at me, wide-eyed.

I watched Potter uncertainly, not sure if he was going to pass out again or if he needed another Heimlich. He opened his mouth to say something, but seemed to be (For once) speechless.

No one said anything, that is, until Sirius Black walked forward and asked, "Evans, did you just kiss him?"

Of course. I save his best friend and the idiot wants to know if I kissed his mate. How typical.

"No!" came my instant defense. I was feeling that it was time to make my exit before any more questions were sent my way. "It was just mouth to mouth resuscitation!"

I glanced at Potter, who was still sitting there on the floor, gaping at me as if I was some natural born saint. I also glanced at the students around me, who were all looking as if this was going to be the top story in the gossip today.

Yeah, it was definitely time to go, I agreed.

"I'll erm....see you in class." I whispered at Potter, grabbing my bag and making a mad dash for the door.

Walk to class, sit in my seat, refrain from dying of embarrassment, that was the plan I had in mind as I walked to Charms. I was sincerely hoping that no one was thinking I had actually kissed Potter on purpose. Why in the name of Merlin's Pants would I willingly kiss James Potter? I mean, not to say that his lips weren't perfectly kissable, but...wait, no! What I had meant to say was that I only let my lips touch his person because the poor sod was choking on a muffin. My muffin, I might add.

I began to see that pulling a stunt like that was rendering my mind to be utter rubbish. I couldn't think straight as I stomped up the third floor staircase to the Charms corridor. I was going mad, after committing such a horribly thought out act. Being irrational and doing something like that was messing with my head. I was positive I'd never make it through the day alive.

"Evans!"

The instant I heard his voice I switched tactics without even thinking (The second time today! Was I headed to the Land of the Irrational and Non-Thinking after just one unplanned act?!) and turned to head towards the Gryffindor Tower. I could simply spend the entire day in bed. Catch up on sleep, do some homework. Nothing I couldn't handle.

"Evans, will you just wait for one bloody minute?!" the sound of his voice was bringing up images in my head. Images that involved soft lips and other things I shouldn't have even been thinking about because they hadn't even happened. But for some reason, I was wanting them to.

"Evans, I'll hex you to get you stop, I swear I will!" he threatened.

I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and kept walking--or sprinting--towards the dorms.

But he caught up with me, as he always does.

"Stop it, will you?" he pressed his hands on my shoulder blades to cease my momentum. "Just let me talk."

Giving into this odd feeling of spontaneity, I looked up at him. "Go then. You have about a minute."

Now that I had given him a chance to speak, he couldn't even seem to form a coherent word. I tapped my foot to let him know time was running out.

"Y-you saved my life." he stated softly, looking from his feet to my face. Something in his eyes made me shift where I stood, like a criminal under a spot light.

Happy I seemed to have some sanity left that enabled me to form a come back, I answered saucily, "I happen to be a generous human being, despite what you think, Potter. I may despise the sight of you, but that doesn't mean I want you to die, for Merlin's sake."

He smiled to himself and shook his head. "Always on top of things, Evans. I owe you one, don't I?"

I groaned. "Not again...."

"C'mon," he chided as we started to walk together to the Portrait Hole, "It'll be fun. Just one date. I'll take you out, buy you some lunch. I won't lay a finger on you if you want."

For a second, another image of me giving mouth-to-mouth flashed in my mind and I felt myself blush. Suddenly, the idea of him and I on a date, eating lunch together, bantering in that way only we do, didn't seem too bad. Maybe I would even let him touch me. Or do more than that.

The realization that I could even want that was quite terrifying. I felt a nasty headache coming on as my brain throbbed, with an inability to process why it was thinking all these taboo thoughts concerning James Potter.

I found myself (thankfully) shaking my head, ignoring the irrationality building in the back of my clearly messed up mind. "I'd rather not."

He shrugged, as if he was expecting it already. "Is there anything else I can do to pay you back?"

I want you to pass out again so I can kiss you again.

The words popped up on the tip of my tongue before I could stop them. I actually almost said them, something that made my head only hurt more. What was going on here?

I began to shake my head, but stopped, an idea forming in my head. "Okay then. When the Hogwarts Gossip Crew tracks you down and asks you if I've been spending all my spare time snogging you in broom cupboards, I want you to say no and when they say 'What about this morning when she kissed you?' you tell them that it's a muggle form of stopping someone from choking. Got it?"

He looked like it was the last thing he wanted to do, but nodded anyways. "And there's nothing else you want?"

Not listening to the voice in my head, I answered, "No, there's not."

We reached the Portrait Hole and I recited the password and began to walk in, looking forward to some muggle aspirin and a very long nap.

"Lily?"

Rational Nuisance Option 3: Walk away from nuisance.

Ah, screw it.

Rationality be damned, I turned around.

"Yes, Potter?"

I should have seen it coming. Any intelligent girl would have. But I was too knackered and frustrated to defend myself as James Potter jumped forward and kissed me quickly on the cheek, grinning like a loon as he stepped away.

"Don't kill me." He begged playfully. "I just thought I'd give that as a means of thanks."

I covered up my eternal shock with a sharp laugh (I mean, the bloke has kissed me). "You couldn't just do what rational people do and said thank you?"

James was walking backwards so he could keep talking to me. A wicked, knowing smile twisted across his face. "You couldn't just do what rational people do and use your wand to get the muffin out of my throat?"

He had me on that one.

I was speechless and gaping, lost for words. He laughed loudly at my shocked expression, just like he had at breakfast in the Great Hall, and turned, walking out of my sight, leaving me to stand there and touch the side of my face with a half smile.

There was no going back to rationality now.

The deed was done. I was now a being of irrational behavior, with the taste of James in my mouth, the feel of his lips on my cheek and the sound of his voice in my head.

I was forever contaminated.

A/N: Not my best, I know. It's all over the place, but I tried my best and thought I'd put it on here and see what you all think. I seem to be liking these Lily-denial shots quite a lot. Review and I'll send you a nice slice of pie. With whipped cream on top!