For Rhi. Happy Valentine's day! It isn't beta'd, but I don't think it looks too bad.

It took Lily two weeks to decide whether to talk to him. To her, that'd been the longest fortnight of her life. There had been no witty remarks about her hair, no interruptions from the back of the classroom, and none of his crooked smirks that never failed to make her heart race. Quite frankly, she was concerned. It made the world feel sort of wrong, and, as much as she hated to admit it, she missed him.

So she went to find him. She guessed he would be one of two places: the kitchens or the Quidditch pitch. After all, he was always wandering around with that snitch of his clenched in a fist, with a few sugar quills poking out of his back pocket.

On a whim, she chose the Quidditch pitch instead of the Kitchens. Come on, it was Potter; if there was anything that he would be doing when he was upset, it would be playing Quidditch.

Through the rain, she saw a lone player flying over the pitch, shooting goals with a tattered Quaffle. Of course, that could just be any other Gryffindor, but that black hair was awfully familiar.

She climbed up onto the stands, cursing the rain slightly as it made her red hair drip into her face. "Potter!" Lily shouted up, but got no reply. She wasn't even that sure that he'd heard her, with the wind howling past them. As she pushed her hair out of her face, she swore to herself that she wouldn't leave without talking to him. Even if it took all night, she promised to get some kind of reaction out of him.

Lily tried again, this time replacing his surname with his forename: "James!"

Two years later, she would deny ever having called him something other than his surname. She would insist that he called her "Lily" first, because she wasn't the kind to crumble. But she would know that she said it first, and that it didn't happen at the Halloween party, just after he asked her to dance – instead it happened on a rainy day, out on the Quidditch field. To her, that was nowhere near as romantic. To others – and especially to James – it couldn't get any more romantic.

The broom shuddered to a stop, still fifteen feet higher than her. "Piss off," his voice echoed down. "I don't have any time for your shit today, Evans."

"James, please!" She swore at herself; again with the first name. "Just listen."

"Give me a reason." Lily stood there, staring at James. He rolled his eyes and said: "That's what I thought." He tapped his broom handle with the palm of his hand, as if to prompt it to start moving.

Her stomach grew heavier the further way his broom got. Eventually, she could take the grim silence no longer.

"Sugar quills!"

His broom froze. "What?"

She pulled out a sodden paper bag filled with sugar quills. "I have mini sugar quills from the last Hogsmeade trip." She yelled, holding the bag up to show him. "I'm willing to share."

James turned away from her again. The feeling in her stomach was growing worse – she wouldn't really be surprised if he didn't want to talk to her, but she at least thought he would give her a chance.

The most shocking – and surprisingly the best – part of that day was when she saw James landing in the mud. It did bring a small smile to her face as he skidded to a halt, splashing mud up his robes.

James stumbled up towards her, still dripping mud. "What?"

"I want to talk," she said, and held the sugar quills out as a peace offering. "About you."

"You're starting to sound like McGonagall, Evans." James plucked at sugar quill out of the bag and stuck it into his mouth.

"And you are avoiding the question." Lily pulled the bag out of his hands. "You can have one for every question that you answer."

"It's raining."

"I know."

His eyebrow rose slightly. She could see his old self creeping through, but she knew it was only a matter of time before he repressed it again. "You're going to make me stand out here until I tell you the truth?"

"Yes." She stuck her finger into the sticky mush that was residing in the bottom of the bag and licked it off. "First question: what's wrong?"

"Sirius." James held his hand out expectantly.

Lily dropped the driest one into her palm, knowing that he wouldn't be too grateful to get a handful of melted sugar. "Next: Why is he upsetting you?"

"He isn't." He leaned over and grabbed another one.

"Then why are you upset?"

James broke eye contact with Lily for the first time since he landed. "I'm upset at myself."

"Expand," she said, frowning.

"Not a question." The sugar quills got abandoned on a bench, but neither of them cared. Lily was more interested in James, and James was more interested in not letting Lily find out.

She took a small step closer and let her hand linger on his arm, his skin scalding her. Neither of them flinched, but she could see in his eyes that he didn't want to be touched. "James," she said quietly, "just tell me."

He exhaled deeply. "I'm angry at myself."

"For what?"

James finally shrugged her hand off and spun to face her. "I shouldn't be jealous, Lily! But I am. He's supposed to be my best friend, for Merlin's sake, but sometimes I just hate him, you know? Sirius shouldn't just be able to step in and take my place for everything. People like him better, he makes people laugh louder, and this is bloody shallow of me, but he's so much better looking as well. And now he's stepped in as 'the Golden Son' at home. I'm always second best to him."

"Oh sweetie..." She muttered, her arms aching to pull him in. But everything about him – his posture, his voice – just yelled 'don't touch me'.

"Don't worry about me, Evans, I'll get through it. When don't I? A Potter doing anything else – it's not heard of." James smiled slowly. "Thanks."

"For what?"

He stepped forward, and for a moment, his height was intimidating. But then he wrapped his arms around her, making her sodden body warm up slightly. He let his head rest on the top of her head, and he fingered her wet curls subconsciously. "For the sweets," he said. She could feel his voice reverberating through her. "For making me talk." He laughed slightly, but it was a cold laugh, one that sent chills through her newly warmed up body. "For making me not hate myself as much."

"You're welcome." She whispered into his chest.

James kissed the top of her head. "Thank-you, Lily. I mean it." He stepped back and smiled fully, the kind of smile that she had missed. The one that started in the left corner, but slowly spread until it reached his eyes. The one that made his nose crinkle up under his glasses. It was infectious. Soon, Lily was grinning back.

Her head pressed into his chest, keeping her face dry, albeit nothing else. Her lips formed three small words, but no sound came out of her mouth. And no, it wasn't 'I love you'; it was simply an 'I missed you'.

OK, so let me know what you think!