James Potter was hot. Like, really. Hard chest. Lanky frame. Clear cut cheekbones. Towering height. Tanned skin. Toned biceps. Jet black hair, deliberately made messy. Hazel eyes ringed in gold, dancing with humor more often than not. Oh, and the sodding grin. The grin that I felt like wiping off with a retort when directed at me, and made my insides dissolve in acid when directed anywhere else.
Now, here comes the point I was trying to make.
This James Potter, he chased after me for six years.
I know what you're wondering. 'Chased?'
Well, yes. You see, for six years, I was the Lily Evans I prided myself in being. I was sane. I was a confident, fiery redhead, who didn't go glassy eyed (notice the past tense here) whenever Potter or Black passed by. They were conceited, attention seeking, and I could see right through them. For me, personality came first. Which I thought was so rotten in the case of those two Marauders, the stench alone would've kept me miles away.
Of course, Potter knew this. Because I know he did it deliberately. He went and swapped personalities with some poor fellow. An honest, wonderful, hard-working, funny, loyal, brave, determined, kind, confident, passionate, wonderful fellow. A fellow I'd have married if I'd met him before Potter did.
And then, layer by layer, I got to know this un-Potter-like Potter. Of course, you know what's coming next.
I fell for him. Hard.
I mean, I jumped into the whole package. Heart failures at the slightest touch. My eyes boring holes into him everytime they could find him. My eyes boring acidic, venom filled holes into any bimbo who smiled at him. Or any bimbo he smiled at. Lying awake at night, replaying every gesture, every word. Noticing the sun shining, birds chirping after every smile directed at me.
It was pathetic. I, Lily Evans, had turned into bimbo number one infinity and one.
Now here comes karma.
Potter, if he underwent the entire personality swapping thing, should've known it would totally do me in, should've kept asking me out, don't you think?
But no. He stopped. Completely and utterly stopped. Merlin, he wouldn't even flirt with me anymore. He wouldn't look twice at me unless he had to say something, or unless I was saying something.
I felt like tying up Potter and Karma together and beating them both up with a stick. That was another thing I did while lying awake at night.
I looked down at my lap, at the mouse I was supposed to be turning into a pincushion non-verbally. Of course, I was having no luck. I was about to attempt one last feeble try when Potter climbed through the Portrait Hole and into the room.
He looked at the mouse in front of me, and gave a short laugh.
"You're holding your wand the wrong way, Lily," he said, smiling at me. "Keep your wrist loose."
He pulled out his own wand, and presented me with a pincushion with one flick. "Like this."
I gasped as he turned it back into a rat again. He made it look as easy as turning on a tap.
Confident now, I held my wand, wrist loose, the flicked it the only way I knew. The mouse gave a startled squeak, and the wand flew out of my hand, crashing into the wall opposite. I glared in disbelief, then looked at Potter, who'd burst out laughing. I looked back at my wand, glaring at it as best as I could, while trying my best to suppress my own laughter.
Potter looked at me, and went into another fit of laughter at the sight of my expression. "Oh, Lily," he squeezed out, shaking his head, "you're so endearing."
My grin froze in place. Hung up on that word, I stood and restarted my heart while he went on laughing. Did that mean he fancied me? Did it? Or did he just casually throw a compliment?
I walked up and retrieved my wand, my fingers, wrist, everything loose this time.
"Shall we have another try?" he asked, grinning up at me. Was he serious or was he kidding? Was he mocking me or was he offering to help? He must have read the question on my face, because he walked up to me and picked up my mouse. Then extended his palm towards me.
I looked up at him in confusion, but handed over my wand.
He shook his head, laughing. "Silly Lily," he said, "what will I do with your wand? You're the one who needs to learn the spell."
He handed me my wand, and then, before I knew it, had moved behind me and was holding up my wrist.
He was a devil.
I felt the entire length of his frame against mine, a wonderful smell flooding my senses, and felt my head go fuzzy. This was not good for my health.
"See? Its that simple," he said, moving away, his palm now holding the pincushion. I had no memory of the rat turning into one. But the burning of his fingers around my wrist refused to fade.
He handed me the pincushion – it slipped out of my hands.
"Lily?" he questioned, his voice laced with concern. He grabbed my shoulders, steadying me. "Are you all right?"
I nodded, the blood flowing in my veins once again. I looked up at him, my face unguarded – and found his face inches from mine, close enough so I could see every speck of gold and hazel – and for the life of me, I couldn't look away. Goosebumps erupt across my skin, inspite of the warmth of the fire. My gaze dropped to his lips.
"Why the hell can't I hate you, Potter?" I whispered, breathless. It was a miracle I managed to talk at all. I felt his breathing pick up – though I could have imagined it.
"OI, OPEN UP!" My heart leaped a hundred feet inside my chest, and we jumped apart.
Later, I never did find out how he managed to find me. I mean, its not like I made a habit of sitting behind the greenhouse. Yet, in no time, I heard his unmistakable footsteps racing across the grounds.
Now, Lily Evans is not one to back down from challenges. Or confrontations. She met them head on.
I sat there, my heart thudding, not knowing whether to go further into the plants to hide, or to just make a run for it. But I sure as hell wasn't going to wait for him and make a fool of myself again.
Lily Evans did not hide from anyone.
In the end, I ran.
I sat in the girls' loo for a good three hours, comfortably finishing my novel. I was content to stay there forever, if it meant I didn't have to see James – if someone just brought me books and food.
Finally, when my butt and spine threatened to resign, I got up and made my way to the Heads' common room. Potter would've surely slept by now, I realized, with a jolt of ecstasy. I could die with my dignity intact.
Then I'd wake up and laugh at the girl in my dreams who fancied Potter, for God's sake, and shamelessly ogled his lips – with him staring right at her – and more or less, just put her foot in her mouth.
My spirits lifted, I muttered the password, and climbed in.
He was standing right by the fire, the firelight flickering in his dancing eyes. My heart stuttered.
"P-Potter?"
What the hell was he doing, still awake?
He strode towards me, and I looked frantically towards my door.
"Something the matter, Lily?" he asked, still walking towards me. My voice stuck in my throat. I forced my feet to move, and broke into a run towards the stairs. I almost fell as an undeniable force pulled me back. I glanced back to see Potter's fingers firmly enclosed around my wrist.
He pulled me around so I was facing him; I couldn't help looking into his eyes, inches away from mine. They were filled with purpose. And whatever the purpose, I knew it couldn't be good for me.
"Evans, are you running away?" he asked. I looked away.
Lily Evans did not get embarrassed this easily.
"What do you want, Potter?" I asked, determined to keep my eyes firmly away from his face.
"I want you to talk."
"There's nothing I have to say."
"Yes, there is," he said, insistently. "Let's finish the conversation we – or rather, you started, shall we?"
"I didn't start anything."
He raised an eyebrow, the look on his face one which my hands itched to wipe off.
"Is that why you aren't looking at me?" he asked, bending close to my ear, close enough so I could feel his breath, cool against my neck. I struggled to keep myself from leaning in closer, and inhaled deeply.
His hand moved up my arm and pulled me nearer, until I could feel the warmth radiating off his body, sending tingles down my spine. His other hand reached up to cup my cheek, turning my face towards his. My eyes met his, unbidden.
"Why are you blushing, Lily?"
I blushed deeper. "I'm not," I said, tearing my eyes away from his to the wall behind him.
He laughed softly.
"Lily Evans, I'm going to kiss you in ten seconds."
My eyes snapped back to his. If not for him holding me up, for the second time that day, my feet would've given away. I watched as he came closer and closer, my heart pounding against my ribs, until every single bit of resistance within my body finally broke down.
"Oh, sod it," I muttered, and threw my arms around his neck. Threading my fingers through his hair, I pulled his face down to mine, reaching up on my tip-toes. His lips parted as soon as he lowered his head. I met him halfway, kissing him with a fervor I didn't know I had, months of denial flowing out in a torrent. His lips moved tantalizingly against mine, deepening the kiss with every passing second. My hands pulled him closer and closer, until we finally broke the kiss, his forehead leaning against mine.
"You have no idea how much I've dreamed about that, James Potter," I said, unable to look past him, unable to think. I put my hand across his mouth just as he opened his mouth to respond.
"I hated you with a passion. I was sane. And you," I said, poking his chest with my finger, "you have been driving me insane. You had to go and change. You had to become this way. You and your laughter. You and your – your – oh, sod it! You knew I'd fall for you!"
He was gaping at me, and the expression on his face was not one usually seen on the face of James Potter.
"You – I knew? If I'd had any idea, Lily, I would've snogged you senseless weeks and weeks ago! Merlin, why didn't you say anything?!"
"Say anything? I thought you didn't even fancy me anymore! How much of a hypocrite would it make me if I were to come running to you then to tell you I fancied you?"
"Didn't fancy you? Merlin, Evans, you're daft."
I just glared at him. "I'm going back to snogging." I didn't wait for a reply as I pulled his face down to mine once more.
Pulling away after a few seconds and silencing his groan of protest, I said, "Just one more thing, Potter. You send one more smile towards that bimbo and I'll hex you into the next century."
"What bimbo?"
"All of them."
He glanced at me with a bemused expression, and grinned. "Evans, feisty in jealousy, huh?"
"You have no idea, Potter."
"You do realize that my never smiling at any female would make me a creep, right?"
I groaned. "You aren't the one who hears the dirty thoughts running through their heads."
"Lily, not every girl is like that."
"What, from being overly conscious of your good looks you've gone to being completely blind to them, have you? Or you're just doing this on purpose so I have to tell you that you're bloody gorgeous?"
He looked at me, and smirked. "As good as it is to hear you say that, I'm not the sex god you're making me out to be. I'm not Sirius. You're looking too much into it–"
"Oh, please. You have to be kidding me, James Potter," I said, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards his room. Then gestured at the mirror we were standing before.
"Do you see now?"
He looked at the mirror. Then, before I knew it, he put his hand under my chin, lifted up my face, and kissed me. I responded, helpless against him – I hated how he took advantage of that – and felt bereft when he pulled away.
"I see now," he said, staring at my reflection.
I stared at the girl as well, the one looking satisfied with the world, and watched as he took my hand in his. His hand felt calloused, and warm. I intertwined my fingers with his, marveling at the way they felt like a perfect match for mine. Why had I waited so long for this?
"Oh, would you please take this somewhere else?" a harsh voice snapped.
James and I looked at the mirror, then looked at each other, and burst out laughing.
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