"I hate you James Potter!" Lily shouted, staring at the boy who peered at her from over the top of the luxurious red couch. She was near tears now, and James could see that. "I hate you," she repeated, turning around just a second later, ready to storm out of the room.

James didn't know why he said what he said next. Perhaps it was because he was so used to just saying such things to her. But before Lily had the chance to swing open the portrait hole door, James whispered, "I love you."

She stopped her angry walk, and James almost didn't move. He just sat on the couch for a bit, staring at Lily. Her red hair cascaded down her back, slightly messy from running her hands through it, agitatedly. He expected her to turn around and yell at him some more, or perhaps to continue storming out of the head common room, but when she did nothing, he knew what to do.

It surprised Lily when she realized that James was standing behind her. He didn't touch her at first. He just stood there, and she felt his gaze fall on her shoulders, admiring her freckled, would-be porcelain skin. Or perhaps he wasn't admiring her. Perhaps he was waiting for her to turn around.

She wasn't about to give him that satisfaction, no. After all, James Potter was currently ruining her life, and she hated him for that. Hadn't he just told her could-be, would-be, boyfriend, to back off? Hadn't he caused uproar in the Great Hall, seeming rather immature, or perhaps too mature, for a Head Boy?

But maybe it didn't matter. James had his hands on her waist now, and even though Lily was thinking, the nerve of that boy! she wanted him to keep holding on. No—she wanted him to do more than that. To be less mature, or more mature, and turn her around and kiss her quite passionately and pull her back onto that luxurious red couch and do things she'd only ever imagined.

James wanted to do just that, but he didn't. His pressure on Lily's waist was light, and although he wanted to whirl her around and kiss her, instead he just leaned down and whispered into her ear, "Why? Why do you hate me?"

His heart rate increased when Lily let out a soft sigh. They both felt it doing so—his chest was nearly against her back now. Both of their heads were dizzy, Lily's especially.

Why do I hate him? she thought to herself. And what was the name of that could-be, never-would-be boyfriend again? Perhaps it was James Potter that she wanted, after all.

She figured that she should tell him. He'd looked so broken on that couch, after all, and he'd whispered in that honest voice that he loved her.

But she did hate him sometimes, so she wasn't going to lie to him. She wasn't going to take back saying that she hated him, because in that moment before she would have stormed out of the common room, Lily had hated James, although now she wasn't sure why. Now his lips were pressed against her ear, warm and familiar. He'd kissed her before. She'd hated him before. They'd both loved one another before.

She leaned against him now, and he willingly held her, moving his hands from her waist to wrap them around her body in an embrace. She finally managed to choke it out then. "I hate you because I love you, and I really don't want to," Lily said, near tears.

James let out a sigh now and let go of Lily. The movement surprised her so much that she turned around. Their faces were inches apart, eyes to lips; hands to hips.

"Why not?"

James never questioned Lily, so doing so was new to him. He usually demanded things of her, and she rarely satisfied said demands. He'd never asked her on a date and he'd never asked to borrow her notes and he'd never asked her to give him her undivided attention. It had always been: "Go out with me, Evans." "Let me see your Potions notes, Slug Queen." "Hey, look at me, Lily."

Lily wasn't sure how to answer the question. Why didn't she want to love James? Perhaps he reminded her so much of the obnoxious first year he'd been, too eager to make fun of her former best friend. Or maybe he reminded her of the smug second year who thought he'd make the Quidditch team, or the patronizing fifth year who hadn't been chosen as prefect, but could hex the pants off of any somewhat decent Slytherin.

But Lily knew that James Potter was no longer this person, even if he had acted in a way to anger her in the Great Hall not just hours before. He'd acted so for her honor, after all. Perhaps that boy had been undressing her with his eyes. Perhaps Lily should have been put off by that.

"It doesn't matter anymore," Lily said. "I don't hate you."

James's response was quick. "But you will tomorrow," he said, and he knew that it was true, although Lily was no longer so sure about hating James. She was fairly certain that she could live without ever hating him again. She was even more certain that she could live if he decided to kiss her right this second.

"No I won't," Lily responded just as quickly. "I can't hate you. I…I…" She didn't know how to describe how she was suddenly feeling. It was as if all the annoyance—no, that wasn't the right word, he'd certainly be annoying until the day he died—all the grief James had caused her since they'd met had been washed away by this sudden rush of affection. "I don't think I ever really did hate you before," Lily said, thinking that perhaps she comprehended it now. "Or maybe I did sometimes, but not really, and…" She was getting carried away with herself, but she had to keep talking in order to make sense of it all. "And you always redeem yourself. Maybe it was right of you to not like Severus and maybe it was right of you to say those things to Evan and maybe it was right of you—."

Lily had been surprised at how easy it was for her to say Severus's name and how quickly the could-be boyfriend's name returned to her mind, but she was even more surprised by the way that James kissed her. The kiss was soft and delicate, yet it sent a shiver down her spine. It made her feel as if she were going to melt and her legs wobbled and her hands wandered up to his hair. When she opened her eyes as he pulled away, she wasn't at all surprised to see that he was holding her by the shoulders, supporting her. Her knees had buckled out from underneath her, after all.

"Maybe it was right of you to kiss me like that," she whispered, regaining her balance and nuzzling her head towards his chest. He held her there for a moment, his lips on her hair, not quite kissing her.

"Shall I do it again?" he asked after a while, and she felt the words on her scalp, and for a second she almost lost her balance again.

"Every day," Lily whispered to James's sweater. "Every single day for the rest of our lives."

She could feel his smile. "And will you promise to never hate me again?"

Lily pulled away. The question seemed so silly, and not just because James Potter never asked her questions. Lily Evans of just a few days ago would have scoffed at such a question. She would have found it impossible to not hate James Potter.

Her expression was dubious, and James immediately let her out of his embrace, completely flustered. What if she said yes? What if she said that she'd just been messing with his head—that she still hated him? What if she said that Evan had kissed her that night that they'd been studying in the library and he kissed a thousand times better than James did? I shouldn't have been so delicate, he chastised himself. Lily's not some little girl. She could have handled more.

He didn't know it, but he'd done everything right, and Lily wasn't about to say yes, and Evan had never kissed her.

She was messing with his head though, or at least she was about to.

"Never hate you again? Why, that's near impossible. You're certainly rather annoying, and obnoxious, and prideful, and too nonchalant." She glared at him, crossing her arms over her chest. "And certainly too good-looking."

At first, James didn't hear Lily's compliment. He didn't even see the smile form on her face. He took a nervous step back before Lily added, "But it's only near impossible. I think that I'm hard-working and brave enough to manage."

And when he smiled, understanding it all, Lily took that as her cue to kiss him.