Let the Awkwardness Prevail

. . .

Whether it be rain or thunder, James Potter was always calm and cool.

Tonight, however, was a whole other blasted story. He felt weird, in a good way, and disturbed... and stunned. He didn't even try to hide his messed up emotions inside him as he flew inside the common room, even though there was no one to hide them from.

He got off his broom awkwardly, and dropped it without much thought. Blinking rapidly, he plonked down onto the armchair in front of the fireplace with a blank look plastered on his face.

Why was he so surprised again?

Oh, right. Because Lily Evans - Lily Evans! - had dreamt of him.

Again, it hit him like a bludger in the face.

Bugger.

Of course he didn't have a problem with that. He himself had the pleasure to enjoy erotic dreams about him; it was just... stunning, was all. Lily Evans hated him (by default, he'd been convinced), simple as that. But then again, there had been telltale signs, of course. He squinted. Oh yes, there definitely had been telltale signs. Staring at him, glaring at him (when he was with a pretty girl), etc....

He looked around the comon room; it was empty. He spotted his invisibility cloak lying beside his armchair and bent down to pick it up. He stared at it blankly for a moment, then threw it over his body.

He would spend the night in the common room, he decided.

Under his invisibility cloak.

Because it made him less vulnerable.

And he'd talk to Lily the first thing in the morning.

Perfect.

. . .

Up in the Girls' dorms, Lily couldn't sleep.

Not without her yellow and red striped socks.

It wasn't that she couldn't sleep, actually. She could sleep, but she would not, not unless the nagging awareness that she didn't have her striped socks on didn't leave her mind. A paranoia – that was what it was. Without her socks, she would stay awake, however illogical that sounded.

Because she never – never – slept without her yellow and red striped socks on.

Simple as that.

But there were other insignificant (cough cough) things too. For example the fact that she'd be doomed for the rest of her life: James Potter finally had what he wanted. An evidence that Lily Evans had the hots for him. And he was sure to exploit it.

Yes, she really would not sleep.

After she'd discovered that he'd been hovering outside the girls' dormitories window throughout their embarrassing conversation and he'd finally fled, Alice and Holly had consoled her as much as possible, cracking lame jokes and assuring her that everything would be alright. She'd just sat, frozen and staring at the window, stunned. After acknowledging the futility of their efforts, her friends had exchanged weary, grim glances and suggested that there was no point in continuing their 'sleepover'. They'd called it quits then, and went to sleep on the mattresses because they were simply too tired and lazy to transform the beds to their original sizes.

It was their fault, partially. If they'd not steered the conversation towards that damned topic, Lily's life would still be good.

She considered bidding her good-girl reputation farewell and having a good night's sleep; that way she just might be able to endure Potter's mocking the next morning. But that was before she realized that she'd left her striped socks downstairs, in the common room.

She had two options, nevertheless. Either she could do downstairs to retrieve her socks and flee back to the confines of her dorm. She'd just have to be wary and swift.

Or she could just spend the night up in her dorm without her beloved socks, stay awake, wallowing in self-pity, and meet Potter's leers looking like an overachieving version of a panda, all swollen eyes and dark circles. A panda with untamable red hair. She cringed.

She perked up. There was another option: She could just jump out of the window and get it over with.

Sighing, Lily stood up.

. . .

James'd been hiding under his (safe and secure, cough cough) invisibility cloak for five minutes, when the noise of someone coming down the girls' dormitories made him sit up straight—

Lily came thumping down the stairs.

James almost fell out of his chair, but managed to control himself in time.

He watched as Lily turned her head to look around the common room and frowned when she spotted his broom. She then took a deep breath and walked quickly over to the couch near the fireplace and bent down to pick up something from there. James squinted. Socks, ah. She turned around swiftly and was on the foot of the stairs leading up to the dorms—

"Evans."

Yelping, Lily jumped and turned around. "Who's it?" she asked, alarmed, looking frantically around the room. She thought she had a vague idea of who it was.

James threw off his cloak. "It's me."

Bloody hell, Lily swore. Feeling her face burn a hot red, she weighed her options: Fight or Flight? She sighed wearily. "Yeah, it's you," she said softly.

In his anxiety (as to how Lily was going to react upon him jumping out of nowhere when he revealed himself from uder the cloak) and attempt to stay as unseen as possible, he hadn't noticed her attire. Now that he looked at her, he wondered how he'd not noticed it. In the dim light provided by the fire, her face was an endearing shade of pink, her hair was tangled and messy, and she wore red pyjamas. It was her top, however, that caused his eyes to wander. Her tee hugged her chest snugly, the neckline reaching far below than usual, and the tee itself barely reached her navel, revealing a sliver of her stomach.

Merlin, she looked beautiful.

Lily could feel his gaze on her. It felt as though the temperature had risen a few degrees all of a sudden. Squirming under his gaze, she tugged unconsciously at her tee.

He raised her eyebrows, a slight smirk pulling at his lips. "Nice." He mentally kicked himself then. Why couldn't he just keep his big mouth shut? Why couldn't he restrain himself from saying some extremely twisted comment? Right, he had no idea.

It was probably either her exhaustion from the night's events or his infuriating tone that caused a flicker of anger shoot through her. "You're a sick twit, you pervert."

He shrugged amusedly. "Yeah, well, you had a couple of sex dreams about me."

It wasn't embarrassment that caused it; it was his offhanded tone which hinted that the matter was of little importance to him that did it. Gulping, Lily's hands formed fists as sharp tears stung her eyes. Really, she'd have expected him to be a little more... excited? Expected him to... care?

She turned on her heel abruptly, thinking that even if she had her socks she wouldn't be able to sleep. Not anymore.

"Evans, stay."

Against her better judgment, she swallowed the hard lump in her throat and willed her tears not to fall. With a stony expression, she turned around, a fist poised on her hip. "No."

James cocked his head to the side, his lips quirked up at the corners, before he turned around and flopped himself on the couch in front of the fire. "You know you want to."

She gritted her teeth. The defiant part of her wanted her to move on, walk up the stairs with dignity and prove him wrong, but she knew he was right; she wanted to. Grudgingly, she said, "Well, then go on, do it. You have five minutes."

He seemed amused. "Five minutes? For what?"

Lily doubled back; when had he said he wanted to say something? She's assumed he'd want to assault her verbally about the discovery he'd recently made. Her stomach did a somersault when she realized he hadn't said anything of that sort. Surprised – and a bit pleased, honestly – that he hadn't planned on teasing her senseless until she bowed before him and kissed his feet about the—uh, about what he'd overheard her friends talking about, she considered not answering him truthfully since he'd never had the intentions of doing what she thought. "Well, you wanted me to stay. You've obviously got something to say."

"I had the impression you were the one with something that needed explanation."

There. There, it was out. She knew he wouldn't be able to refrain. He and his cryptic games, she scoffed. Determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her break down and confess her—her feelings to his face, she merely gave him a once-over before turning around and saying lightly, "Well, you're obviously mistaken. G'night, Potter."

She should've known better: She hadn't even moved from her spot when he said quietly but clearly, "You're in love with me."

It wasn't a question, and that was what infuriated her more. Besides, the way he said it, it sounded like he thought it was the most fascinating and most humourous joke he'd ever heard. Lily stopped in her tracks, her back turned towards him, as if contemplating what he'd said.

It was true, she decided. She was in love with him; she'd just been in denial. But he wasn't the type for her, and she wasn't sure their relationship – if they had any – would work out. They were two different types of people, and frankly, they couldn't stand each other for more than five minutes. He made her mind blow up; she made him want to bang his head against the wall. It just went against propriety.

Thus, she'd just resorted to hating his guts (or pretending to) until the ever-present butterflies in her stomach vanished and the constant spark the thought of him ignited extinguished for good. For the last two months, she'd been trying. Without much progress, if she was true with herself.

He'd changed over the summer, that was for sure. But it wasn't his changed demeanor that caused her to be attracted to him, actually. He still made her want to blow up, and she was fairly sure she did the same to him, but she'd grown to like that feeling. He had charisma that influenced her in ways that amazed her. He brought out his own control, yet he could be fierce and passionate when he wanted to.

So yes, she was in love with him.

But she didn't want to admit it. Not just yet.

She gave a dry laugh. "Oh, please don't let your ego get any bigger; it's soon going to need its own area code."

She couldn't be sure whether he's detected what she'd just tried to do: distract him from the route their conversation was taking. Knowing him, he probably did. Nonetheless, Lily had a feeling that the conversation was far from over. Sensing her efforts to evade what was going to happen were unsuccessful anyway, she sighed and plopped herself down on one of the cushions.

"In like, then," James amended quickly. "You're in like with me."

She looked at him oddly and snorted lightly. "How can you be in like with someone?"

He sighed dramatically. Lily rolled her eyes. "When you care about someone, but think that your feelings aren't as strong as they can possibly be... when you hold back a part of you, because, uh, your feelings aren't really that deep. Point is: You care about that person enough to want to be with them, but you know you're... not in love with them. Merlin, I'm rubbish at this," he replied thoughtfully.

Smiling slightly, she shook her head. "Mistaken again, you are."

Well, it was true, she thought. She was not in like with him, because she was already too deep in and her feelings were already too strong that she was sure she was in love.

Sighing exasperatedly, James rolled his eyes. "Well... let me think then," he turned to face her, "Aha, you're in lust with me!"

Lily stared at him daftly. "In lust?" she repeated wearily.

He nodded vigorously. "In lust. It happens when you just want a, uh, physical relationship with someone. Thus the dreams."

Well, what an idea, Lily thought wryly. The last thing she wanted him to believe was that she was neither in love or like with him, she was just in love with his body. Great.

She scowled at him. "And you're ready to go out with a girl even if she's apparently in love with your body and not you?"

He sat up straight, smirking. "Is that a yes then?" Lily gave him a look. Sighing, he continued, "Nah, I would rather have the girl be in love with me... but yeah, I've accepted the fact that it would never happen, so why not just date her? At least that'd prevent me from thinking 'What would it have been like to date Lily Evans?' in the future." He shrugged, gazing into the fire.

Lily flushed. Were they honestly having this conversation? More importantly, why wasn't she screaming her love at him, instead of letting him think she wanted—Lily flushed with embarrassment—him like that? And he looked so tired and frustrated and dejected... something she never thought she'd see on his face.

Getting up from her spot, she walked towards the couch he was sitting on. James didn't look at her. She sat across from him on the couch and tentatively reached out to take his hand. Only when her fingers clasped around his did he look at her, but his face remained emotionless. Looking at his face, she brought his hand to her mouth and planted a kiss on his knuckles. He smiled slightly, but his eyes twinkled.

"Is that a yes?"

Shaking her head, Lily put their entwined hands in her lap. "No. There is one problem."

He raised an eyebrow, seeming half-amused half-annoyed. "Yes?"

"Well, you know, every girl has a dream for a perfect guy, a Prince Charming. A perfect, good looking gentle man. You... well, I've been hating you"—James suppressed a wince—"for the past six years... and you're still annoying. I don't see..."

Rolling his eyes, he held up a finger. "I was under the impression you were in lust with me—?"

This time it was Lily who rolled her eyes. "No, doofus!" James's eyebrows shot up. "But anyways," she hastily added, "I don't see you being interested in me after some time; what is you get bored or something..." Lily trailed off, sounding stupid and insecure to her own ears.

James considered her for a second, gazing at her intently. He began in a serious tone, "You honestly think that I would get bored of you after a while?" He rolled his eyes. "Lily, are you forgetting that we're talking about the girl I've been chasing after for six years? God knows what I would be willing to give up just to have your hand in mine—"

She didn't know how it happened. One second she was sitting across him, the next she was in his lap, knocking him backwards on the couch, his face in her hands, and she'd pressed her lips against his.

Oh, wow.

After a few seconds, she pulled back, blushing and breathing harshly. What had possessed her? Getting off him—she tried to ignore his disappointed expression—she sat back on the couch, tugging on her hair.

James closed his eyes briefly. "What now?"

Lily hesitated. "Well, there's just one thing..."

"Go on, then," he mumbled wryly, trying to scoot closer to her.

"Um, you know, you're James Potter, you have dated, like, a thousand girls before"—James opened his mouth to protest—"Okay, maybe not a thousand, but... you've had your fair share. I... well, I don't have any experience—"

This time, James grabbed her wrist in frustration. "Lily. Don't you see? This is as new for me as it is for you." Lily raised an eyebrow. "Okay, I don't deny. I've dated a lot of girls before. But don't you see? The mere thought of being with you gets me more excited than the thought of snogging the most attractive girl of Hogwarts does." Lily made a face and he chuckled. "So... do you have any more doubts?" he asked sarcastically.

She pretended to think. "No, no, I think we're alright. But wait a second – I'm not the most attractive girl of Hogwarts?"

Grinning devilishly, James ignored her question and brought his face closer to hers. He pressed his lips to hers without a second thought. Lily thought that this time she'd be prepared, but it took her by surprise nevertheless.

The kiss was... it was perfect.

What promised to be a long snogging session was cut short when two pair of feet were heard thumping downstairs.

Alice appeared magically at the foot of the stairs leading up to girls' dorms. "Oh my God, Lily! We thought you'd—" She noticed James. "You!" Holly appeared behind her as Alice looked between them both, blinking slowly. Lily and James stared. "Oh okay, but we need to hex him first thing in the morning. Interrupting our sleepover like that," Alice said, frowning and crossing her arms across her chest.

Lily turned to James, who'd hidden his face behind her in desperation and chuckled. "Speak for yourself, Alice. I rather cherish being in love"—James looked at her, elated—"Yes, I did say love, not lust."

With that, he dropped his lips onto hers.

fin.

. . .

A/N: Okay, don't kill me! -dodges a bullet- I'm sorry for the late update. So, so sorry. I had most of it written, but I was just too lazy to fill all the holes. I think it's cheesy and mushy and corny and stupid, but yeah. -eyeroll- And a big shout-out to all reviewers: THANK YOU! :D Here, have your basket of cookies! (I don't know how to draw it so just pretend it's there ;))