For as long as Lily Evans has known the infamous James Potter, he's been nothing but unkind towards anyone and everything in his path. Not having known him for very long, she supposes, lapses her judgement; for the others in the Institute seem to have quite a fondness for him despite the obvious qualms about his personality.

Need she even recount how only a few weeks prior how he utterly humiliated her – after she had been sure that he was quite interested in her romantically; the absolute bastard had kissed her, told her that if she wanted to pursue any type of relationship it would purely be a sexual one because romantic relations between a Shadowhunter and whatever the hell she is are strictly forbidden and (if the rumors are true) and Lily is a warlock, well, she can't have children.

Which apparently renders her pretty damn useless.

She still hasn't forgiven him; but she's become more tolerable of his presence.

He's taken to avoiding her at all costs, mostly goofing off with his parabatai, Sirius Black, who Lily also regards as a common asshole, but he's at least a bit charming (Marlene McKinnon, the servant, has told Lily on multiple occasions that Sirius is more handsome than his parabatai, but Lily is disinclined to agree - not that she'd tell Marlene - of course. It's just there is something particularly charming about the way James Potter's dark hair is so unruly, and the way his hazel eyes light up a room when he laughs. The delight she gets from counting the few freckles that look like constellations across his nose is not something that she's proud to admit (and neither is the way she looks at his bum when he's training). Lily likes how her recent immersion into this new world used to give her an excuse to talk to him, to point out a rune on his arm, or his chest and ask about it; the best part was when he would respond, and for a second it would seem as if he actually cared).

So yes, maybe, she does hold some sort of affection for him; she knows that she shouldn't. She knows he all but called her a harlot, and he's terribly mean to Marlene and literally everyone else in the Institute.

While she's in the library one day, helping Sirius and Minerva read the papers (for the n-teenth time) in hopes of learning the location of Voldemort and his Death Eaters, she brings it up – how can they care for someone who cares so little.

Sirius honest to God snorts, and tells her that she's being quite daft.

Minerva ignores Sirius.

"James cares, dear," she says, "He's just got a funny way of showing it."

"Yes, of course, but you'd assume that he wouldn't be such a prick about it."

"You know what they say about assumptions, Evans." Sirius grins.

This time Minerva smacks him on the back of the head.

"If you're so curious, perhaps you should ask him yourself."

They all go back to reading after that. After reading the same line of print for the fourteenth time, Lily excuses herself. She's quite hungry; hopefully Peter's cooked up something delicious.

Lily, contrary to Minerva's advice, does not bother James Potter with her questions. He seems rather busy running to opium dens and other such places of vice for her to bother.

So, she stays quiet. She keeps to herself. Marlene tells her about the other boy here, Remus, who's got lycanthropy. He's another one of James Potter's good friends; so is Peter, apparently. She learns that James Potter did not spend his whole life at the Institute, instead Minerva explains how she found the twelve-year-old boy soaking wet on the porch; how he'd instantly taken to Sirius. How he'd never allow himself to outwardly display anything but displeasure or carelessness.

How she's come to care for him like he's her own son.

Lily trusts Minerva; the woman's done her best to support her against the Clave, she's one of the only women in charge of an Institute, and well, she's shown Lily a kindness that she hasn't received in a very long time.

She doesn't change her opinion on James Potter yet, even though her heart is telling her that she should. There's something else. There's something she needs to dig up before she allows herself to try forgiving him.

(She's lying. She had forgiven him the first time she caught him staring sorrowfully at her from across the library. This is just her using her curiosity as a scapegoat.)

Lily considers Sirius to be her friend. He's posh, refined, if you will, but he's got a charm about him that Lily admires. He's got a bit of an abrasive wit about him, but Lily, having now lived with him for several weeks, has gotten quite used to it – often times finding it refreshing amidst such a serious and depressing atmosphere.

Sirius has decided, for some ungodly reason, that Lily holds a high opinion on romantic advice (as if he doesn't know of her failings), and casually asks her how to seduce a man.

And by man, she means that Sirius has specifically asked for advice on how to seduce (or woo, or whatever he plans to do) Remus Lupin.

Lily, having only spoken to Remus a few times, does not know how to answer the question. Lily, who also has no experience with dealing with male suitors (or seducing them, for that matter) also has no idea how to answer the question.

She tells Sirius as much.

He laughs.

"I expected more from you, Evans." He chuckles.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She raises an eyebrow while asking.

"It's just you are quite pretty, that's all."

"You like blokes, Sirius." She deadpans.

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate the female aesthetic. And believe me when I say that I know the difference between an ugly woman and a beautiful one. You've never had the pleasure of seeing my mother."

"Sirius Black, a regular Oedipus; my god, how scandalous."

"I resent that implication." Sirius smiles, "Besides, she's the one that got me into liking men."

They share a laugh then. It's silent for a few moments.

"D'you fancy anyone, Evans." He breaks the silence, "I reckon it's only fair that you now confide in me, now that I've done so to you."

"I don't think this is how that works."

"Semantics."

"I hate you."

"No, you don't." He chews his cheek in thought, "But you do hate James."

"Yeah, because he's a right prat."

"You hate him a little too much though."

"No, I –"

"It's alright, Evans. He's probably managed to find a way to get you to actually hate him."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"James has this, this thing, where he tries to get everyone that he cares about to hate him. I don't even remember what he did to me, but I was furious with him for a good two weeks. But don't let that set you off; you've got nothing to worry about."

"I'm not following; why shouldn't I worry about him not hating me? He made it perfectly clear when he compared me to a common whore that I mean absolutely nothing to him."

Sirius lets out a bellow of laughter; he's red in the face, and Lily swears that she sees a tear roll down his cheek as he clutches his chest.

"Evans, that boy looks at you as if you've hung the moon; I don't know what demon's possessed you to even consider making you think that he hates you."

And that's when she delves into the whole scenario. From the second James Potter had rescued her from Narcissa and Bellatrix (more commonly known collectively as the Black Sisters), to when he gave her his own copy of Tale of Two Cities, to when he kissed her in the library then told her to forget about it (which included the whole revelation of his "true intentions").

Sirius listens – he's a lovely listener when he puts his mind to it, actually – but he's got no advice for her. He apologizes, profusely, on his friend's behalf.

"There's nothing that you can do."

"No, but I'm not sure of what else to say."

"Then I'm sorry will do, I suppose." She agrees.

It's quiet for a few minutes.

"I'm sorry I couldn't help you with your Remus situation."

"Nah, I learned plenty of what not to do from your James situation."

"Shut up." She smiles.

"Nah."

A few days later, she's sitting in the library reading Frankenstein when James Potter all but prances towards her.

Usually this would get her angry, but there's something different. He's happy – happier than she's ever seen him. His eyes, usually a dull hazel all but gleam. There's a slight glow of rose on his cheeks, and his glasses are falling down his nose. The best part, Lily thinks is the way he's yelling her name.

Not Evans, but Lily.

She smiles despite herself.

"What is it, Potter?"

She can see the nerves take over his exterior. The grin on his face diminishes and he runs his hand through his hair (which looks more like a rat's nest than anything else.) He quickly glances at the chair next to hers.

"May I sit down, this might take a bit."

"Go for it."

Then his explanation begins. How his father was killed by a demon he released by accident when he was 12 years old. How he believed that he had been cursed by the demon, how he had believed that anyone he would come to care about was doomed to death. How he had been inquiring with a warlock about his curse since he met her.

How he is sorry.

How he learned that there wasn't even a curse to begin with, which Lily surmises is even more torturous.

She puts her book on the table beside her and walks over so that she can kneel in front of him. She grips his hands in her own. They're calloused and even a bit scarred, but she can't fail to notice how well the fit in her own.

"James," she utters, "it's alright."

"There's no excuse, for how I've treated you," he can't look at her, "this would be so much easier if I wasn't so in love with you."

"James," she tries again, he doesn't listen.

"I know that you probably don't care, because I've treated you like your worse than a piece of shit, but you must know that I'd rather you alive and hating me than dead because –"

"James." She says forcefully this time, "I never hated you. I don't think I could ever hate you."

"Lily," he says her name. But James Potter never just says her name, he sings it like it's the most holy thing - as if it was created by the Angel himself. She's never quite understood what it was that she felt when James Potter really spoke to her, but she's starting to get it now – it's affection, longing, adoration, and perhaps very nearly love. "Lily, I know that you don't care for me much, you don't have to lie for my sake, but I needed to tell you. I owe you this, and you need to know that on the roof, that night when we kissed, those things I said, I know they were hateful and terrible, but –"

"I know."

"I couldn't lose you, and now I know that, I can, you know," he blushes, "love you without worry about you dying, you probably detest me; so there goes that. "

Lily, as her sister Petunia has said on too many occasions, has zero tact. Lily also wants to kiss James Potter because despite all that's happened between the two of them, she still feels as if she might be in love with the asshole.

So, she kills two birds with one stone.

This kiss with James is not her first. This kiss with James will not be her last. But, this kiss with James will probably be the only one that he wasn't expecting. Because as soon as her lips are on his, his arms start flailing wildly and Lily is forced to let go of his hands.

However, that enables her to run her fingers through his untamed hair, so she isn't complaining one bit.

The kiss is sloppy, it's wet, and Lily is very sure that she loves ever second of it. James's one hand finds its way to caress the nape of her neck while the other gently cups her cheek. When he pulls away, he's looking into her eyes, and she can't fight the blush that blossoms.

"Hey, Lily," he asks.

"Hmm?"

"Fancy doing that again."

Lily smiles.

Then she kisses him; it's really all quite romantic till Sirius comes in practically tearing the clothes off Remus as they're locked at the lips.

Poor James looks quite scandalized.

That is until Lily takes his hand and leads him back to her bedroom (not forgetting to wink at Sirius as she makes her way out).