A.N.: I was cleaning out my computer to free up some space, and I noticed this horrible story just sort of hanging out, I am ashamed of it, and so, I'm re-writing it! Enjoy!
"My sweet, sweet Lily," James Potter asked, already down on one knee, "would you please grace me with your presence this Saturday at Hogsmeade?"
"Absolutely not, Potter! Get up!"
"Lily," James whined, "why won't you give me a chance?"
"Because James," shouted the angry red-head, "I hate you!"
"Lily Flower," James purred, "your words wound me!"
"Good!"
"You don't mean that."
"I do though!"
"Really, Lily?"
"Yes!" she screamed, "I hate the way you ruffle your hair! It's messy enough. I don't know why you always have to look like you've just gotten off your broomstick. And I hate the way you ask me out every day, even though I always say no. Why can't you just take the hint? You tell me you love me all the time. If you loved me, you would respect my wishes and leave me alone! And I hate how you never pay attention in class, you're always doing something else, like folding up little bits of paper that say things like "Evans, go out with me?" Do you know how many times you've asked me that? And I hate that you're just smart, even though you don't do any work or anything. You just make me so mad Potter!"
"Really, Lily?" He asked, his face had fallen and he looked miserable.
The tiny girl hid her eyes behind her mass of curly hair, her voice was tiny and subdued. "No."
"What?"
"I said no."
"But…"
"I love you okay? Dammit James! I love your hair, okay? Yes, I Lily Evans have a weakness! Okay? Get over it! So I like your stupid hair. Why? Because, it looks soft, and I like when it looks windswept, because it reminds me how you're so passionate about Quidditch, and at that point I'll either think about the rush I get watching you play, how scared I get every time you're going to get hurt, or, how that passion could translate into…other things," she cleared her throat before carrying on. "I don't hate that you ask me out every day, I think it's sweet, sometimes I wonder if once I say yes, you'll stop doting on me the way you do now, I guess that's one of the reasons I've been saying no for so long. I never want you to leave me alone, when I'm upset, and I see you, you always make time for me, you've never denied me of your company, and you always make me feel better. When my parents died, I was a wreck, all those times you just held me and told me it would get better, I wanted you to just kiss me, but I was too afraid to ask. The fact that you never pay attention in class doesn't bother me, does it make me jealous? Hell yeah, but it doesn't make me hate you. I feel like we've had a steady competition going with our grades since First Year, I'm happy to say, you always lose." She paused again to smile happily. "I absolutely love that you make me angry, nobody else gets me going the way you do. It doesn't matter what we're talking about, even if you agree with me, you disagree simply to argue, and I always act like I mind, but it's usually the best part of my day." She opened her mouth to say more, but it was suddenly occupied by James's tongue. He shoved her against a wall in a way that was both aggressive and gentle, while sliding her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist. He kissed her for what seemed like days, before they finally broke apart. And when they finally did, her shirt was mostly unbuttoned, her hair was loose and fell all over the place, and her lips were bruised and swollen already, her cheeks flushed. James thought she'd never looked more beautiful, his hair was messier than usual, and his tie had come loose. His hands rested on her hips.
"Lily," James paused to take in her bruised lips again, "I only mess up my hair because if it looks like I messed it up on purpose, I'm arrogant, or just stylish, but if it just happens to be messy, it makes me a slob, and every time you told me you hated it, you'd get a little bit flushed, and angry, and I love seeing you angry. So, I tease you and harass you sometimes, because then I get to see this passion that you reserve only for me." She raised her eyebrows. "Oh, yeah, I know, I've seen you get into fights with dozens of people, but they're always civilized arguments, you never threaten to hex anyone but me, and Sirius sometimes, but he annoys everyone, so he doesn't count. And, as you can see, that passion that I have for Quidditch, translates pretty well into…other things. I never knew you cared about how I play, I mean, I remember once, last term, I fell and hit my head, I woke up in the Hospital Wing, and I swore you were there, and you looked excited to see I wasn't dead. And then I muttered something resembling "Go out with me?" And you said, with this huge smile on your face, "Go to hell Potter." I thought I dreamed that."
"No, you didn't."
"And, I always wondered, ya know? whether or not it was really you. I wanted it to be you, so badly, because well, as you may have figured out, I've been in love with you since I was eleven, so, of course I wanted it to be you. And, I've always loved our silent-competition with grades, and I'm glad you win, because you work harder than I do, you deserve the better grades." He paused for a moment, and looked at her thoughtfully. "Are our arguments really the best parts of your day?"
"Sometimes, but other times we'll have a normal conversation, where I don't have to pretend to want to beat your head in. But those aren't always the best part of my day either. You're almost always the best part of my day, not just a specific interaction with you. I really do love when you ask me out," she hinted shyly.
"Evans, go out with me?"
"Sure, Potter, sure." He smiled, and then went back to bruising her lips.
A.N.: I would love some feedback! Thanks!