Three jumpers lay discarded on the bed as I tried on a fourth, turning in the mirror to appraise my reflection. The door opened, and Alice froze when she saw the worried expression I gave her. She lit up- such a nice, sympathetic reaction. "Oh my GOD you actually like him don't you!" she squealed.

I sighed exasperatedly. "Just because I want to look nice on a date does not mean I like him, Alice!"

She smirked. "Sure, I'll act like I believe you… but only because we're friends. And wear the v-neck emerald one I gave you. You know it makes your hair and your rack look bloody fantastic."

It was actually the first thing I had tried on for these very reasons, but decided against it when I remembered that I wasn't actually trying to impress Potter. Wasn't I?

Screw it, I thought, and pulled on the jumper Alice had given me for Christmas that year, entirely too low-cut for my tastes, but what she called "flattering." I held out my arms and turned for inspection, announcing myself ready.

"Are you even wearing makeup?" she cried, sounding scandalized.

"A little," I pouted.

"Sit," she said, pointing to the bed next to her as she went to her trunk to begin what I could only imagine to be a complete makeover.

I stood in the entrance hall apart from Alice and her long-time boyfriend, Frank, tucking my hair behind my ear, only to shake it out again a moment later. Alice had spent long enough on my face that I thought she had made me a clown, but when I looked in the mirror, all she had done was evened out my skin tone, made my eyes seem more intensely green than usual, and put a little blush on my cheeks. I'd have to ask her to show it to me again.

Someone tapped my shoulder and I whirled, hand going to my wand. Potter stepped back a bit, showing me an empty palm and a small bouquet in the other. "Woah, didn't mean to startle you, Evans." I relaxed infinitesimally.

"These are for you," he smiled and held out the flowers, the look on his face making me think he was expecting me to be overjoyed at this out of the ordinary act of thoughtfulness. The truth was, no boy besides Severus had ever given me flowers, and I did feel sort of special… but I really didn't want to inflate his already sagging ego.

"Thanks," I took the flowers casually, but held them at my side carefully, resisting the urge to smell them and hold them like a beauty queen.

Alice had been watching the whole exchange carefully out of the corner of her eye. "You two ready? The carriages are leaving pretty soon."

While he was distracted, I performed a quiet preservation spell on the flowers, then banished them to my room.

He was too easy. Dismayed, he asked, "You didn't like them?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "They would have been annoying to carry around. Shall we?" He nodded, though his balloon was thoroughly punctured. I was conflicted, acting like this, but if I was ever to get any peace, being a bit of a bitch was worth it.

We all climbed into a carriage, and he was silent the entire ride, except for the occasional "yes" or "no" when Alice tried to make conversation- a complete oddity, unlike any behavior of his I had seen thus far. By the time we got into town, I was feeling bad about it.

Alice dragged Frank off as soon as we came to a halt, giving me a thumbs up.

I buttoned the neck of my coat, and wrapped the red and gold scarf around my neck a few times for good measure – it wasn't snowing yet, but the wind was biting cold.

James and I started making our way toward the town center, slowly. The silence was so painful, I couldn't stand it. "So, was there somewhere specific you wanted to go?"

"You just really don't like me, at all, do you?"
"James… I don't… not like you as a person- it's just…" I thought about how to get my

point across.

"How would you feel about me if I followed you around, constantly sending you notes and telling you how handsome and funny you were and asking you on dates all the time?" Poor, poor choice of words- his face lit up. "Okay, but what if it wasn't me? What if it was just some girl at Hogwarts? Someone younger… and mental?"

He considered the addition. "And less pretty. Yeah, I guess I could see that getting old."

I fake-gasped. "Is the great James Potter admitting he was – dare I say it – wrong?"

"If I said yes, would you keep it a secret?" He was unexpectedly serious.

"Is there something wrong with being wrong once in a while?"

"I'm captain of the Quidditch Team. If I'm wrong, we lose- we lose the game, the house cup, our pride and dignity. Not to mention, if I miscalculate how someone is going to react to a joke, I might have serious punishment or an injury on my hands. So yeah, I have issues with being wrong."

It was the longest serious speech I had ever heard him make. "I didn't realize how much pressure… I'm sorry." I reached for his gloved hand, which made his face relax into a more familiar grin.

"Nothing to be sorry about. Are you hungry?"

Not really. "Sure," I smiled at him.

We walked, hand in hand, past the familiar shops and smells, attracting stares from more than a few Hogwarts students.

"Y'know, we don't have to hold hands if you're embarrassed."

I shook my head. "No, it's fine." How had I gone from cold and distant, to (though tame) what amounted to a public display of affection? It wasn't particularly a bad hand to hold. Strong, warm even through the glove… reassuring. Was he manipulating me? Lulling me into a sense of safety so he could show me off? I took back my hand.

"But on second thought, we wouldn't want people to think we're actually together."

We kept walking, and I was pretty sure we were headed to Madame Puddifoot's for an overly sappy meal served on doilies, but instead he steered us toward the Three Broomsticks.

"We aren't going to Puddifoot's?"

"Does Puddifoot's brew its own butterbeer? Besides, only wankers take their girlfriends there."

I completely agreed with him, but only gave him a warning look.

"Not that you're my girlfriend! Bloody hell!"

Satisfied, I headed into the Three Broomsticks- the less romantic the place, the better. But Potter was a sneaky one. Even though the pub was crowded with students and shoppers, he managed to find a tiny table for two near a staircase- close enough to be in the comforting murmur of the patrons, but far enough away to feel like we were dining privately. I'd have to remember this spot when I came with someone I actually wanted to go with.

We sat, and Rosemerta showed up so quickly, she might have apparated.

"Mister Potter, nice to see you back so soon," she nodded.

He held out a hand, and she took it – I barely caught the glint of a gold Galleon. "The same to you. Could we get two of your home-brewed butterbeers and – Lily, do you like pumpkin?"

It took me a moment to respond – I was too distracted by the odd exchange. "Ummm yeah, yes."

"And one Deluxe Pumpkin Scrumption."

"Coming right up." She left in a swish of skirts.

He smiled at me, as if to gauge my reaction to what had just happened.

"Do you always do that?" I inquired.

"Do what?"

"Tip an entire Galleon before drinks are even on the table?"

"Oh… no, not always. Only when I'm on a date with someone I want- someone I care about. My father taught me that."

And with that, our drinks clunked softly down onto the table. Rosemerta winked at him from the bar.

"Makes the food come faster," he commented as he scooped up his mug as if to make a toast. "To green eyes, red hair, and stunning intellect," he proclaimed, then took a swig.

I wouldn't be surprised if my eyes were strained tomorrow from how much I was rolling them now. "So your pockets are full too? Merlin, Potter, you could have girls falling at your feet. You're Head Boy, Quidditch Captain…" I could see his head reinflating… "Just… why not any one of them?"

He took another sip of his butterbeer, eyes glinting through his glasses. "They're not you."

It was really, really, unfair that he could do that smoldering thing. I blushed for the… I'd lost count how many times, lowering my face so my hair hid my cheeks.

"Evans," I met his eyes, "Are you… blushing?" Hah! The hair had worked- the first few times, anyway. I opened my mouth to protest, when the food came to the table.

"Oh look, the food's here!" I picked up my fork to stuff my mouth and avoid talking. He deftly slipped it from my fingers – just barely brushing mine.

"Uh uh. You haven't had this yet, correct?"

"No."

"Well, then, you need to let me put together your first bite."

I finally took the time to admire what was on the table. It appeared to be a very small, three-layer cake, topped with some of Fortescue's Ever-Puffed Whipping Cream. He carefully stabbed the smallest layer at the top, getting just the right amount of whipped cream on the fork, and offering it to me with the other hand cupped underneath.

"It's not laced with a love potion, is it?" I asked, skeptically.

"If I had ever had the desire to use a love potion on you, don't you think I would have done it by now? Just take the bite."

I did, trying to not focus on the fact that he was putting something in my mouth, but I was distracted the moment I tasted it. It was very sweet, but not overpoweringly so – the pumpkin had just a slight bit of spice to it, and the whipping cream seemed to melt on my tongue.

"Mmmm – ib reawwy goob!"

"I'm glad you think so." He handed me back my fork, our fingers making the slightest contact again, and we proceeded to devour it.

A/N: Well, that's it for chapter 2! Stay tuned for 3, where things get a little… physical *wink wink*