If anyone asked, Lily was fine. Why wouldn't she be? Gryffindor had won the match; she was as pleased as the next lion.

But in reality, something was most assuredly off. She gave her Butterbeer a suspicious look (she wouldn't put it past Black to spike it with Firewhiskey), but she knew that wasn't the cause of her uneasiness.

It was him.

Her eyes kept drifting over to a certain head of tousled black hair – completely against her will, her mind added – as she silently observed his conversation with a busty blonde fifth year.

Not that she cared.

It was James Potter – caring was out of the question.

And yet, she couldn't ignore the unfamiliar twinge whenever she saw his hazel eyes look down at the shameless girl. Lily wanted to pulverize her. She tried to avert her eyes, but they were continually pulled back, as if by a magnet. She felt helpless, as if she were fighting a losing battle.

"Pathetic," she muttered, shaking herself and taking a drink. Her throat tingled as she swallowed, and she briefly considered the possibility that her drink really had been spiked. It might explain this seemingly inexplicable draw. Yes, she decided, a drunk attraction.

An uncomfortable jolt hit her stomach – was that what it was? An attraction? No, that had to be the whiskey talking. Never in a million years would she find James attractive. He was arrogant and selfish and cruel and a bully and immature and smart and handsome and –

Her thoughts came to a grinding halt. What was she doing? She couldn't be thinking these things. Not her, Miss Lily Evans, who hated James with every fibre of her being. Someone must have hexed her. She threw her eyes around the room, trying to find someone to blame, but everyone was far too wrapped up in the party. As she scanned the crowded common room, her eyes once again stopped on the raven haired boy. He looked a bit uncomfortable, though not without reason. The girl was now leaning on him, chest thrust upward and a predatory gleam in her dull brown eyes. The pinching in Lily's stomach worsened and before she knew what was happening, she had gotten to her feet and took several steps in their direction. The trance was broken when James shoved the girl away and walked away. She realized what she had been about to do and scurried back to her seat, horrified. She had been about to attack a girl for flirting with James.

When had he even become James to her?

She shook her head. This should not be happening. There was absolutely no way that this was possible. He was Potter, and she hated him. But she knew that it wasn't true – she hadn't hated him for a long time, and the shift hadn't been towards apathy. She buried her face in her hands, face burning.

Lily fancied James Potter and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

A/N:

Bam! One word under the limit ;)

Written for –

Battle of the Houses (Gryffindor prompt 4)

Sherlock competition (ep 1 prompt 10)