Finally wrote a Jily oneshot after years! Hope you enjoy, and please review^^

DISCLAIMER! Characters belong to J.K. Rowling.

It began with just a look.

That's how it always goes, doesn't it? A look, a touch or a situation. I hate to make it sound clichéd but I'm afraid that's exactly how everything with James Potter started. With just a look.

At first it was easy to ignore him you know. I would shelter myself within the excuse of Head Boy & Head Girl duties and every interaction between us was nothing but professional. Now that I think about it, it wasn't Potter's style. One would think that he had given up on me and moved on. I mean, that is what I assumed as well. But boy was I wrong.

Little did I know that Potter never gave up on anything. Especially on a girl who rejected him too many times to count. For a while, I could tell that he only viewed me as a prize he needed to have. That worked fine for me, because it made it easier to turn him down each time. I didn't care about giving him a hard time. I refused to be one of those daily sluts who enjoyed hooking up with him. I would be lying if I said I wasn't the least bit curious about his skills, but not curious enough.

Then it all changed. He didn't see me as a prize anymore. Rather than just hitting on me, he would attempt to strike up a conversation. Small talk. Apparently I made him nervous. Ridiculous, right? I was just a girl who patrolled the halls and minded my own business. How on earth was it possible for someone like me to make someone like James freaking Potter nervous?

Months later, I mentioned this to him. During one of our patrols on the third floor corridor, I joked about a nobody like me had the power to bend his will. I expected him to laugh. Or smirk at the very notion of such a silly thought. But he did neither of those things. Instead, he looked at me and said, "You are not a nobody. Not to me."

I told you, just a look.

It was one that kept me up that night. I couldn't get his face out of my mind. There had been a fierceness in his eyes that I hadn't seen before. I couldn't help but wonder if it was an expression he pulled off with every other girl. Maybe I was just another one. But no, that wasn't it. He didn't look at me like he wanted to snog the living daylights out of me.

It was almost as if he wanted me to see that he liked me.

The next few days after that were difficult. Not only were we swamped with Head Boy & Head Girl work, but we had to prepare for the finals. Potter was back to his teasing and flirty self, like the other night hadn't happened. Surprisingly, I couldn't have been more glad. I had missed, dare I say it, his charming self and wit. And I made no attempts at hiding it.

"Can we please just head to bed now? I'm tired," he whined, running his hands through his hair in frustration.

"Not until we talk about the preparation steps for the other potions, Potter," I said, my tone void of sympathy. "You're the one who said you wanted my help, remember?"

"Yeah, that was before I found out how damn bossy you are," he muttered and ducked as I made a move to thump him on the head. "And feisty," he added with a grin.

I glared at him and got up from the couch, with every intention to leave him alone but he grabbed my arm and pulled me back down. I was about to reprimand him, when I saw that look again. That same intensity. Only this time, it made my heart beat a little faster and I found myself speechless. In my defence, it was the first time we were in this near proximity without me yelling or shooting jinxes at him.

It was brilliant.

I noticed how luscious and rich his hair was, despite it sticking up in every direction. His hazel eyes boring into my green ones. His lips that seemed so tantalizing and that structured jawline that made me think of the unholy things I wanted to do to him. I was in no way in love with him, but it was something. I couldn't put my finger on it.

"I want to kiss you."

It took me a moment to realise that it was me who had said the words out loud and not him. Oh yes, that would explain the shocked expression on Potter's face, along with the tip of his ears burning red. What was happening? Were they in some alternate universe where Lily Evans was having an effect on James Potter?

"It's your bloody fault! Why did you have to look at me like that?" I questioned, not giving him a chance to respond my previous declaration.

That did the trick. Potter snapped out of his reverie and he asked softly in confusion, "What do you mean?"

"You look at me as though I matter to you. Like I'm actually someone you wouldn't use for sex and discard the-"

I was interrupted by his lips on mine and Merlin, was it heavenly. It wasn't a sweet or tender kiss. I could tell it had pent up emotions in it and that he had clearly been wanting to do this for a long time. It was only when I returned the kiss with the same immediacy and eagerness that I realised I had wanted this too. If there was such a thing as 'hate with a passion', it was how I would have described my feelings regarding this notorious Marauder. Once upon a time, but perhaps not anymore. Although, a part of me continued to dislike so many things about him. With where he was concerned, I had so many insecurities and doubts and I doubted that a kiss would change that.

I tangled my hands in his hair and I found myself moving closer to him. I needed more contact. Even when the need for oxygen became too much to bear, that didn't stop us from placing kisses on other patches of skin. "Bloody hell Potter," I moaned as his tongue reached out to lick the shell of my ear, before his lips trailed down to my neck.

"You do matter to me," he whispered as he pulled away, though his hold on me did not loosen. "Maybe not back when I was a prick to you. But now? Definitely." His gaze had visibly darkened and an almost innocent smile graced his features. "I want to spend the rest of my days looking at you like that."

A slight giggle escaped my lips, as a result of me feeling so taken back and giddy at the same time. "You are too cheesy for your own good." I buried my head in his chest and reveled in the comforting sensation. "But I guess I can accept that."

And that's how it always goes. A look or a touch to ignite a spark.