Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: I know this has been done a lot before, but I love these kinds of stories…and my friend, who is helping me write this has like weird ideas…Anywho, please review!

Summary: It is the first day back, and James finds this page of Lily's diary lying around, and knows how she feels about him. This is their last year at Hogwarts. There are make-ups and lots of break-ups. Loads of fluff too. Add in some hate, and voila, you've got a LJ story! And its all from Lily's point of view.

Rating: PG-13 for swearing

~*~*I love you but I hate you, I'm stuck on you*~*~

~*~*Chapter One: Lily's Poem*~*~

I hate the way you say my name

            Pssh. You call me "Evans"…it's LILY. Lily. Call me Lily. Calling me "Evans" is a great way to make me mad. Is that why you do it?

And I hate the way you make your hair

            Yeah right. Making your hair? More like rumpling it, thinking it makes you so cool. Well, reality check. It doesn't. I mean, your hair is untidy anyways, just leave it that way. Or else shave your head bald. I remember trying to do that to you in fifth year.

I hate the way you ride your broom

            That damn broom! The Nimbus 500, is it? The way you zoom along, even riding your broom in corridors! And no teacher ever catches you! And nicking that snitch! Stealing school property! I'm amazed your broom can hold up your big head!

I hate it when you stare

            Its not just the staring, it's the place where you stare! I do have a brain, Potter. A brain I don't waste, like you, on pranks and tricks, or making Snape's life miserable…so I know where you stare. So stop. If you stared because you liked me, or thought I was nice, its all good. But if you like my curves…just stop.

I hate your big fat combat boots [LOL iono where my friend got this from…combat boots???

            Your boots. What are you, a soldier? You're not even a Muggle! Where on earth did you buy those boots from? You wear shorts. And boots. Shorts and boots. You scare me, Potter. Fashion police do exist. Do you even take those boots off before you go to bed?

And the way you read my mind

            How do you always know what I'm thinking? You don't even take Divination! You always say what I am thinking. At least you can't read my feelings…can you? 

I hate you so much it makes me sick…

It even makes me rhyme

            I cannot even write an essay, yet I am rhyming. Because of you. And that's not a good thing. You make me sick.

I hate the way you're always right

            And with "always", I mean always. In every class, in every discussion, no matter when I talk to you, it's always you that's right. Seems you know everything one can know. About everything. Do you know how people feel after even a short time of talking to you? They feel depressed, become unsure of themselves and their own opinion and, a little later, they become annoyed and angry and think things like, "can't this boy ever be wrong? It's no fun talking to you. You're always right and you know it. Self-centered jerk.

I hate it when you lie.

            When you lie…its so obvious. Even I am better than you at lying. You bite your nails, don't look at your opponents eyes, and you get so red. It's only trivial things that you lie about. I mean, it might make it easier to accept if at least you'd lie not to hurt others feelings or something similar; but no, you lie because it's sometimes more comfortable for you to lie than to tell the truth. Did you ever consider the idea that your lies might have bad consequences for other people, who are innocent in all this, while you are too cowardly to admit whatever you did? Probably not, you complete buffoon.

I hate it when you make me laugh

            Yes. You are actually funny, Potter. No matter how hard I try not to laugh, I do. And sometimes its not only at you, but with you. And you do indeed have the most contagious laugh. Even a contagious smile. In fourth year, I thought that lop-sided smile was kinda cute… dammit!

And even worse when you make me cry

            It's true. Me, the tough Lily Evans has cried. Not when she got sent to St Mungo's when her head was practically cut in half, but when James Potter made fun of her. I'm not that tough after all. Not as tough as you, at least. Of course, in front of you, I laugh along with the others, but when I'm alone, I cry myself to sleep about it.

I hate it when you're not around

            When you are around, the sun is always shining. I remember whenever we have a Quidditch match and you get injured and are in the hospital wing, even if we win, the atmosphere is so gloomy. Even the weather mourns your injury- it is always cloudy. Somehow I feel that, no matter how "cool" and "funny" you are on the outside, you are someone to rely on. I know I can trust you. I know you would help me if I was in danger and you'd probably risk your life for me, although you don't know me too well. And you would not just rescue me if I was in danger, you would do that for anyone. Everyone. Maybe even Snape.

And the fact you did not write

            Despite the fact we are not close, ever since first year, we always wrote over the summer. Why didn't you write this year? I wrote to you, twice. And you never responded. I hate you for that. I lay in bed every night thinking "well, Potter might respond today, if he doesn't, I think I should Apparate over to his house…maybe something is wrong…". But I don't know where you live. No one does, except Remus, Sirius, and Peter. And I would never ask them for your address. And then I find out you never wrote because you never had time. So what were you doing? Looking in the mirror? Practicing Quidditch?

But most of all I hate the way

That I don't hate you.

Not even close

Not even a little bit

Not even at all.

            There it is. A confession in black and white. I never hated you, no matter how hard I tried. I love you but I hate you…I am stuck on you. Maybe this year, I'll say yes to you asking me out. Not maybe…I will. I love you, James Potter. I always have, still do, and always will. I hope you haven't given up on me, and I will redeem myself to you. I love you, you arrogant, bullying toe-rag. Perhaps I'll give you this poem.

 _____________________________________________________________

            James found this paper lying on the floor of the Gryffindor Common Room. His heart beating fast, he ran up to the girls dorm, and asked to speak to Lily privately.

A/N: Well? Be a responsible reader and please review!