I have spent absolutely AGES on this story; I've hinted at writing a Lily/James story before and I'd quickly like to thank all of readers who have waited patiently for this. I just wanted to get it right as I absolutely adore this pairing (so many opportunities!).

I stole the title for this story from the song 'Girl That You Love' by Panic! At the Disco. Plot-wise, the lyrics don't have particularly much to do with it but I thought the title did. Listen to it, I highly recommend it!

Tripping through the portrait hole, Lily Evans fought the urge to just close her eyes and collapse onto the floor. Her shoulders were heavy with fatigue and she struggled to keep the half a dozen rolls of parchment clasped to her chest. She had stupidly forgotten to bring a hair tie to the meeting and she was definitely regretting it; her hair now clung to the back of her neck like a shadow. A fine sheen of perspiration lingered along her hairline and she could feel the humidity of the September air reddening her cheeks and ears, even at that time of night.

Altogether, all she wanted was to collapse into her bed and sleep through the rest of the year.

She had officially completed exactly one week of her seventh year of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but she couldn't even allow herself a small self-congratulatory smile. The extra responsibilities of being named Head Girl were already starting to drain her energy and she wondered hopelessly if it would ever get easier. Although she kept telling herself the amazing opportunities the position would get her later in life and how much of an honour it was, she was definitely worried that she wouldn't be able to keep up. Each meeting was even more exhausting and stressful than the last, what with having to deal with sulky fifth-year prefects and having to sort out the bloody timetables for the prefect patrols. Not to mention she'd had to do it all by herself because James Potter hadn't bothered to fucking show up.

With a sudden flash of hot anger in her stomach, she remembered her fury at the boy she now shared her sleeping quarters with. Scowling, she thought about how much she had struggled under the excuses and demands of the many students as they fought for her attention, whether it was to swap the partner they had been assigned, or change the time they had been assigned... The prefects had gotten restless and bored, and eventually she'd had to yell at them to be quiet, successfully losing their respect in only the first meeting of the year.

She fumed to herself as she bitterly imagined how it might have gone if Potter had been present. They all adored Potter, apparently, and constantly asked her where he was; she had politely told them that he was probably just busy with something and would be there in a minute. After twenty minutes of these excuses, it had dawned on Lily that the prick had either forgotten or, most likely, not even bothered to go.

She still did not have the slightest idea why Dumbledore had chosen James Potter as Head Boy. He was reckless, arrogant and had no respect for authority. He'd broken just about every school rule there was and always managed to get away with it, along with his little gang of Marauders. He never studied or handed in his homework on time (but somehow managed to pass every test and get the best marks). He'd tormented Snape - she couldn't help but sneer word, even in her private thoughts - just because he could, along with countless other students.

Lily had been almost certain the position of Head Boy would have gone to Remus Lupin, a much more suitable candidate. During the summer, after she had received the letter that told her of her new position, she had spent a lot of time wondering who would be her partner in her last school year. She had never even considered James Potter - when Marlene had told her the news on the Hogwarts Express, she had laughed right in her friend's face, instantly assuming it was a joke.

James Potter. The boy who had tormented and harassed her ever since their first day at school. She couldn't stand a single thing about him - the way he purposely messed up his hair, the way he blatantly flirted with her and just assumed that she drooled over him just like every other stupid traitor to her gender in their school. She'd had to endure his pathetic advances for years, and now she was being forced to live a staircase away from him.

She cast a cold glare at the doorway that revealed the separate staircase to Potter's bedroom. She could imagine him perfectly, lazily tucked up in his bed, fast asleep. Or perhaps he was planning stupid pranks to torment innocent students with his stupid friends.

Suddenly, a wicked idea appeared her mind opposite the sickening image of him peacefully asleep. Earlier, the moment she had arrived at the conclusion that he wasn't going to appear at the meeting, she'd wanted nothing more than to yell at him... If he was asleep, the idea of marching into his bedroom and violently waking him up brought an evil smile to her face.

The slightly less insane part of her brain reminded her that it would also be a complete invasion of privacy; she'd be totally at fault and knowing Potter he might even use it as an excuse to do the same to her one day. However, Lily ignored that part of her brain. The memory of how helpless, stressed, exhausted and not to mention livid she had been earlier that evening shoved any rational thoughts out of her mind and she made her decision. Hurling the rolls of parchment onto the sofa, she tossed her hair over her shoulder angrily and stormed up the stairs to his bedroom, her sore feet slapping loudly against each stone step.

She shoved the door open and the doorknob whacked the wall behind with the force of it. As she had expected, Potter was fast asleep. She had thought the noise of the doorknob impacting with the door would have woken him, but nothing had disturbed his slumber. Dramatic entrance ruined, Lily quickly began to formulate a plan on how to wake him, but then she looked at his face and stopped.

His covers, the same shade of Gryffindor scarlet as hers, were tucked up to his chin so only his head was visible. He was on his side, facing her, and she could see that his glasses were lopsidedly perched on the tip of his nose; she fleetingly wondered why he hadn't removed them before taking a nap. His thick eyebrows were pulled together tightly and his mouth lolled open comically (although she did not laugh). His slight snore rasped through his pink lips and the covers that shielded his body from her rose and fell with each steady breath he took.

It was very odd. Lily was completely thrown off course by how strange it was to see him asleep. Although she couldn't comprehend why, there was something more human about James that way, with all of his arrogance and maliciousness wiped clean from his face by sleep. A flat tuft of his black fringe concealed his pale forehead, unruffled by his hand as it usually was when he was conscious. He looked innocent.

Even so, he had pissed her off and she was still fuming with rage.

"James Potter!" she screeched, planting her hands on her hips and making her stance as aggressive and confrontational as she could.

With a loud snort he woke, instinctively shoving his glasses up his nose. The movement was so jerky and forceful that she wondered if the rims would leave an imprint on his skin. His expression was the image of pure sleep-addled confusion and Lily might even have laughed if she wasn't so livid.

"Wha's goin' on?" he mumbled, his eyebrows pulled together over his drowsy eyes. "Lil?"

Her heart stammered for a millisecond but she shoved any thoughts about that away from her.

"First of all, do not call me 'Lil', Potter," she seethed. "What the hell are you doing?"

Instead of answering her, he glanced over at the closed curtains. "What time is it?" he yawned.

"Nine," she told him curtly, folding her arms tightly over her chest and glaring at him. She coated her next words with as much sarcasm as she could muster. "Haven't you forgotten something?"

For several moments he just stared at her, narrowing his eyes slightly as he considered her question. It was obvious the moment he realised; he shoved his covers away from himself and sat up more quickly than she'd ever seen him move before.

"Shit! Shit, shit, shit!" he swore, shoving his hands into his hair. "I am so sorry, Lily! I swear I didn't forget - I fell asleep!"

As he stumbled over his tongue for an apology she noticed with a prickle of heat in her cheeks that he was not wearing a shirt.

His golden skin was stretched tightly over the corded, solid muscle of his stomach (most likely the result of playing chaser for Gryffindor for four years). The ridges of the abdominal muscles of his stomach undulated with the movement of his arm reaching up to grip his hair. His arms stole her attention (but not before noticing his firm pectorals, each one punctuated with a dark pink nipple) and she saw that a dimple rested between each shoulder blade and the swell of his muscled biceps. Between his pectorals, a trail of dark brown hair led her gaze to his stomach again and the slight V of his hips, before it disappeared beneath his covers.

How could a seventeen year old boy have such an athletic build? She knew that he was an avid quidditch player but she'd never imagined he would have gained such a body from just flying around on a broomstick. Did he work out? Did wizards have gyms?

"-I promise I'll take this more seriously, Lily. It's completely my fault, I shouldn't have dozed off. I am so, so sorry."

With a feeling of horror at her own betrayal, she snapped out of her trance and glared at him, hoping she hadn't been gawking at his body for too long.

"I had to lead that whole meeting all by myself, Potter! Do you know how hard it is to sort out everyone's bloody schedules so that they'd all satisfied? No, you don't, because you were tucked up in bed!"

"Please forgive me, Lily," he pleaded. "I'm really sorry. I promise I'll make it up to you."

Again, Lily noticed how he used her first name so easily in his words, as if they hadn't referred to each other by their surnames for the past six years. It brought another irrational flash of anger and she narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously.

"What are you doing?" she challenged him slowly.

His eyebrows rose as he successfully stifled a yawn. "What do you mean?"

She tapped her foot impatiently. "Why are you being so... nice? You never apologise to me."

He frowned at her. "Because I'm a nice person?"

She barked a laugh. "You, you are not. Not to me, anyway."

"Lily," he began slowly, almost as if he was testing the taste of her name on his lips. He ran a hand through his hair, causing it to stick up in a way that made him look as if he'd been stupefied. "I know you're not going to believe me, not yet at least, but I'm going to say it anyway."

He gauged her reaction and once he decided he was safe from an attack, he continued.

"I've matured a lot over the summer. My parents have told me I need to work harder, especially now that I'm Head Boy. I've realised that I've been a complete dick to everyone over the years and I've done some really idiotic things. I can't think why Dumbledore gave me Head Boy other than that he sees some sort of potential in me, and I'm not going to let him down. And I swear I'm going to take my responsibilities seriously - this was a complete fuck-up. I completely understand why you don't trust me. But I swear that this year I'm not going to tease you like I have done in the past."

"'Tease'?" Lily scoffed. "I think 'torment' might be a better word."

James exhaled slowly and yanked at his hair with his hand again. She'd always thought (rather nastily) that he constantly messed up his hair because he thought it made it look like 'sex hair', or as if he'd just rolled out of bed and was effortlessly handsome. Now, as he clawed at it, she wondered if it was simply just a nervous habit.

"Lily, I don't, um..." James shrugged, almost shyly. "I did it because I liked you, but I don't fancy you any more. I've grown out of it, I guess. I swear I'll never pester you to go out with me ever again."

Lily had to admit that she was surprised. Not because she was vain enough to think James was head over heels for her, of course, but because of the sincerity of his words. It was jolting seeing him talk to seriously when she had only ever seen him smirk and joke and tease.

That's when she noticed that he was watching her almost nervously, and she knew she must have looked startled.

"Thank you for your honesty," she told him reluctantly. "I'm glad."

He smiled softly, huffing a short, secretive sort of laugh through his nostrils. He rolled his shoulders backwards slightly as if his confession had lifted some sort of weight from them; she refused to let herself look at the curve of his muscles.

"All right. Well, please don't forget again, Potter."

She performed an odd, formal nod-curtsey thing that she regretted immediately and turned to leave, wondering why on earth she was so flustered. Just as she was about to go, her name abruptly caught her attention.

"Lily?"

"Yes?"

James stared into her eyes for a long second, and then croaked out, "Please don't call me Potter."

His eyes were wide and shone in the dim light of his bedroom. His mouth was hanging open slightly as if he was about to say something else when suddenly he stopped himself. The expression on his face was indeterminable and confused her horribly.

"Why?" she asked curiously.

"If were want to be civil and get on with each other for the rest of the year, shouldn't we stop being so blunt with each other? Please, just call me James."

Lily had never, ever called him James. She'd used the word as part of his full name, of course, but she'd never used it without his accompanying surname. Potter was her preferred name for him.

She wasn't ready to use the 'J-word'. It was too... familiar. She was unable to bring herself to do it.

"I think it would be better if we just stuck to surnames," she said quietly.

James swallowed, hard. He nodded, and kept his eyes downcast.

"That's okay. Just a suggestion," he said meekly.

"See you tomorrow, Potter," she said, making her point clear.

"Yep," he half-whispered. "Bye, Evans."

Lily woke early the next morning, her hair plastered to her neck. She felt gross all over and knew she had no choice but to take a shower. Lily's head fell back onto her pillow and she groaned. She really did not want to spend the day doing her homework. Her anger had subsided but now confusion took over her mind; James had been acting incredibly oddly the night before. She felt exhausted and just wanted to sleep, but her the urge to bathe was stronger.

As Lily gathered her towel and wash bag, she thought about the large bath in her private bathroom and suddenly longed for it. She'd not had the time to use it yet and had resorted to the more modern shower as it was quicker. Towel draped over her arm, she dropped to her knees and pulled her chest out from under her bed. It was mostly empty but the array of bath soaps she had brought with her remained, and she decided she would indulge herself.

The bathroom was even grander than the prefects' bathroom, even though it was only used by herself and James. The water in the bathtub glittered with lilac bubbles and shimmering steam rose from it slowly. She eased herself into the pleasantly hot water, taking a deep breath through her nose to clear her head and fill her lungs. She could already feel the tightness disappearing from her shoulders and back. She washed her hair with her new, rose-scented shampoo, cleaned her body with all sorts of soaps and body washed and shaved and plucked all of the appropriate parts.

When the water became lukewarm and her skin had puckered from the water, she heaved a sigh and pulled herself from the water. She wrapped a soft towel around her wet torso and shuffled to the corner of the room where she had left her things.

Flipping her head upside down, she wrapped her hair, dark with water, into a towel and slipped her bathrobe over her freckled shoulders. She quickly secured the bathrobe's knot across her stomach and grabbed her wash bag; the bathroom was, after all, not completely private and she wasn't comfortable about James seeing her razors and moisturisers and shaving cream. It was just too personal and, besides, she still didn't trust him not to sabotage them with some vile potion that turned or her skin green or something equally as horrid.

Struggling to yank the door open with one hand, she rounded the corner to hop down the steps to the common room, the towel on her head tilting precariously. Her bare feet were freezing, even on the soft rugs that paved the way, and she made a quick mental note to bring her slippers with her next time. Usually she dressed herself in the bathroom after her shower to avoid bumping into James, but she knew for a fact that he was at Quidditch practice. I bet he didn't forget to go to THAT, she thought bitterly.

The temperature of the staircase was freezing and she wondered if the windows had been left open somehow. She felt the sudden urge to just curl up in her warm bed and sleep for the rest of the day.

The difference in temperature between the staircase and the common room was hugely noticeable; it was like walking out of a refrigerator and into an oven. The flicker of flames in the fireplace caught her attention and she turned her head to see a huge, blazing fire.

Frowning, she wondered why on earth the fire was burning. It hadn't been there when she'd left for her bath. Had it been created by the house-elves? Or was there some kind of enchantment on the room to light a fire in the fireplace when it became too cold? Surely she would have been told about it before she-

Lily released a very girlish, very high-pitched, very embarrassing shriek as an arm flopped off the sofa and onto the floor. The person attached to the arm yelled in shock and rolled of the side, landing onto the thick scarlet rug with a thud.

Hiding his shock, James rubbed his shoulder gently as he adjusted his glasses to balance on his face properly again. Lily's heart pounded with suppressed panic and she stared at him in shock, mildly confused as to why he had been lying on the sofa.

"Potter?" she gasped, breathless from shock. "What are you doing here? I thought you were at Quidditch practice."

"I had to cancel it," he said distractedly. He picked himself up from the floor, seating himself on the sofa that faced her. He was still dressed in his new Quidditch kit - fresh white trousers, unstained by grass and mud, and his Gryffindor jumper. His surname was emblazoned on it in gold.

"The pitch is soaking from last night's rain, " he continued. "It's freezing in my room so I thought I'd come sit by the fireplace. Must've accidentally dozed off." His face turned sheepish. "I have quite a talent for doing that."

Lily ignored him. She had noticed with a prickle of unwelcome self-consciousness that he was staring directly and very intensely at her face, as if her was trying to see her bones through her skin.

"Fair enough." She took a step to the side and his gaze followed her deliberately. A slightly dazed look was present in his eyes and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed deeply.

"Are you all right?" she asked slowly, wondering if he was ill. The way he was staring at her was definitely unnerving.

"I'm fine," he croaked. "It's just..." He trailed away, still staring at her face with large hazel eyes.

"What?" she demanded.

"Er, you just... look nice."

Immediately, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. As the silence stretched out between them, he blinked several times and his cheeks started to redden slightly. She wondered wildly is this was some sort of diversion created to distract her while Sirius, Remus and Peter set up some sort of horrible prank for her in her bedroom.

Finally, she said, "I'm wearing a bathrobe, Potter."

He mumbled, "Yes. Um, you are," and then his eyes dropped to her bare legs for a fraction of a second before shooting back up to her eyes again.

Pretending she hadn't noticed his odd behaviour, she simply said, "Right, then." She remembered his pleading eyes and serious tone the night before when he has promised her he wouldn't pester her any more; she did not believe him.

As she turned to ascend the staircase leading to her bedroom, she heard him call, "Wait, Lily!"

She twisted around, piercing with a look she had learnt from her mother that said, 'This better be quick.'

"We should probably arrange to go over the official Head Boy and Girl duties." He grinned at her, but then his expression turned slightly sheepish. "And, er, the prefect schedules. Sorry about that, again."

Ignoring his apology, she nodded in agreement. "Good idea. When are you free?"

"Any time," he said, too quickly. His cheeks flushed pink.

She tilted her head as she considered her schedule. The warmth of the room was already affecting her senses, blurring the thoughts in her mind and making her sleepy.

"It'll have to be tomorrow," she decided eventually. "I have too much homework to do today."

"That's fine," he replied. What time?"

"Half ten?"

A small, gentle smile appeared on his face and a very strange thing happened to Lily. Her stomach tightened almost painfully and she felt her cheeks prickle as they flooded with heat. With absolutely no idea as to why, she suddenly couldn't look away from him.

"Perfect," he told her softly. "Common room."

"Um, yes," she agreed.

"Brilliant," he said cheerfully. See you then."

She nodded in agreement, suddenly realising her lack of clothes. Humiliated at her sudden abnormal behaviour, she scurried up the stairs to her bedroom.

That night Lily lay stretched out across her bed, her mind battling itself. She mulled over the events concerning herself and James Potter over the twenty-four hours. She was absolutely mortified at how she had been acting around him lately. Each time she had been in his presence she had been a blushing, bumbling mess. Was it because she had seen him shirtless? Was she really that vapid?

He seemed to have matured over the summer, but she still distrusted him. Each time he promised her he'd changed or tried to be responsible, she wanted to believe him but a tiny voice as the back of her mind screamed, Don't!

Maybe his personality had finally become equal to his appearance (despite hating him since she was eleven, she had to admit there were some attractive elements about him, even if they were only on the outside) over the summer. Or was she just attracted to him and beginning to create a desirable version of him in her mind, the way most teenage girls did with boys they had crushes on.

Lily froze. This was NOT a crush.

Not yet, at least, whispered a traitorous part of her mind.

Reluctantly, she admitted to herself that it could possibly have something to do with the face that he'd grown out of his crush on her. She almost laughed at the irony. As soon as she'd started to reciprocate, even just by a minuscule amount, he'd mov-

"Liiii-lyyyy!"

The falsetto cry echoed from the common room and Lily froze. Despite the ridiculous tone, she recognised James' voice. As she grabbed her bathrobe, she heard giggling that sounded suspiciously like Sirius Black, and her heart sank. So much for having matured.

Once she had descended the stairs, she stood facing the two boys as they swayed in the common room, twin grins plastered on their faces and smelling strongly of Firewhiskey. Sirius' long hair was in pigtails on either side of his head and James had a ruby-red lipstick print on his cheek. Lily felt a sudden stab of anger in her chest.

"Hello, Lil," Sirius garbled pleasantly, his arm swung over James' shoulder.

"She doesn't like being called Lil," James slurred, staring at Lily with half-closed eyes. "Or Lily. Just Evans."

"What?!" Sirius cried, horrified. "That's so mean."

"Sirius, you should be getting back to your own dorm," Lily told him loftily.

"'M gonna sleep in James' room," he protested.

"No, you are not. Leave."

Sirius pouted at Lily like a child, but her expression did not change. Sensing defeat, he simply shrugged and said, "Good luck, mate," to James before staggering out of the portrait hole slowly.

As soon as he had clumsily sealed the entrance to the common room with the portrait, Lily rounded on James. "What the hell, Potter?"

"What?" James asked innocently, shuffling over to the armchair and drunkenly collapsing into it. His head lolled onto the plush arm, giving the impression that he was largely disproportioned.

"What are you doing?" she seethed. "I thought you said you weren't going to piss about any more."

"I just went to see my friends and we had a bit to drink, Lily."

"Well, you shouldn't! There shouldn't even be any alcohol in the dorms, and here you are getting drunk on it yourself! You're supposed to be Head Boy."

Her icy tone of voice sobered him slightly. "I didn't ask to be made Head Boy! I want to go out and have fun as well, you know. Actually, you wouldn't know. I don't think you've ever had fun in your life."

She glared at him coldly for a moment, deciding her next words.

"You said you'd matured." She meant to say it harshly but it came out in a small voice, like he'd betrayed her intimate trust. Stupid Lily.

James' mouth gaped open, surprised at her vulnerable words. He pushed himself into a sitting position. "I have, I swear," he objected. Maybe I shouldn't have gotten drunk, but... I'm an idiot, Lily. I swear I'll never do anything stupid enough to mess up Head duties.

All she said was, "Don't call me Lily."

"Why?" he demanded sharply. She tried not to flinch.

"It's not..." She couldn't think of an appropriate word. "It's not professional."

James narrowed his eyes at her, his mouth twisting angrily. The alcohol-induced red glow on his cheeks darkened slightly.

"We are seventeen fucking years old," he nearly growled. "We are classmates and you're worried that calling each other by our first names is 'unprofessional'. That is complete bullshit, Lily."

"Don't speak to me like that-"

He stood up suddenly, still no closer to her but much taller and angrier. "Just tell me why!" he demanded. "Why can't I just call you Lily?

"I don't..."

"Don't say you don't know."

Lily knew exactly why. The reason was as simple as it was pathetic: she was terrified of developing a stupid little crush on him, and every time he said her name her stomach fluttered.

"Fine, Potter!" she spat, suddenly very tired. "Call me Lily if it means that bloody much to you." She was beginning to wish she had never left the comfort of her bed.

He glowered at her for a moment. "And you call me James."

"Fine! Merlin. I'm going to bed."

Before she could begin to leave, he had crossed the space between them and was stood in front of her, his whiskey-filled breath blowing heat into her face. Her cheeks flushed almost painfully.

"Say it," he enunciated.

"What?" she stammered.

"Just say my stupid name."

"Go and sober yourself up," she hissed, "and then you can apologise to me in the morning."

The wall behind her was suddenly pressed against her back as he walked her backwards.

"Just say 'James'," he breathed.

"You are mad," she laughed without humour.

His rough, warm hand reached up and cupped the side of her face, and he pressed his burning forehead against hers.

"Please," he whispered, almost inaudibly. Lily was trying very hard to maintain her breathing. He was looking at her so carefully that she felt like she might break.

The ferocity dissolved away from her face and she said, "James."

He emitted a trembling laugh and then his lips met hers before she could comprehend him even moving. His lips slid along hers roughly and he shoved a hand into her hair, biting down on her bottom lip. Lily, who had never been kissed, wasn't exactly certain how to respond. The idea of pushing him away didn't even occur to her as he combed her tongue with his own, causing pressure to build in Lily's stomach and making her want to crush herself against him as tightly as she could. She did so as well as she could, successfully pushing her hips forward but James seemed to want to be in control, grazing her hips with his other hand and bestowing her tongue with the taste of alcohol from his own.

He pulled back, breathing hard. He whispered her name into her forehead as she gasped for air; the mixture of shock and lack of oxygen had left her literally breathless.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," he breathed.

"I thought you didn't fancy me any more," she whispered. She had no idea why she was being so quiet; they were probably the only two people on this entire floor.

"That wasn't a lie," he admitted, and a grin grew on his lips. "I don't fancy you."

Lily's stomach plummeted. The smile on his lips fuelled her rage and she shoved him away from her.

"Then get off me," she hissed, stalking away from him.

Drunken bafflement was clear in his voice when he yelled, "Lily, wait!"

"Fuck off, Potter," she spat before she stormed up the stairs to her room, angry tears threatening to spill from her eyes.