Disclaimer: JKR said no more Potter, yeah? Just the Scottish book. So why would she be writting fanfiction?

A/N: Please don't hate me. I'm feeling very vulnerable, now, as an author, and I don't really know why. Just please, don't hate me.

Treetops

Lily thought, for a brief second, that she was going crazy. She had to be going crazy - had to! - because why else would Potter be in her every thought? Why else did her mood seem to depend upon what little interaction they had every day? The thing that convinced her, though, that she truly was going crazy was that, for a brief moment, she actually contemplated taking the long trek up the stairs to the top of the Gryffindor tower, (on the boy's side) and actually, as if going up there wasn't bad enough, apologising to James Potter. (Thank goodness Marlene put an end to that.)

Because, she figured, the horrible feeling of depression and anxiety and not-completeness she had been feeling lately directly correlated to The Incident in the Hallway. The Incident in the Hallway will forever be acknowledged with vagueness and capital letters, because whenever Lily thought about it, she got this strange queasy feeling in her stomach that felt something like guilt. So she didn't like to think about it.

In fact, even thinking about thinking about it, like she was now, gave her an unsettled feeling in her stomach and an urge somewhere in her brain to make things right again between her and Potter.

If, she supposed, you could ever call how things were before "right" in the first place.

Lily took to hiding out whenever she could, avoiding Potter, but then one day he found her in her tree.

"Why are you so afraid, Lily?" He asks, legs swinging carelessly back in forth in an unsurprisingly carefree manner. I feel the sudden urge to push him off, but I refrain because I know that would not look good on job applications - Azkaban time doesn't sound very nice, period.

Besides, he doesn't need any more reasons to hate me.

I thought I was safe in this tree. I found it back in second year - nice and secluded and far away from the Forbidden Forrest that it won't turn into a pixie when I'm not looking. I thought it was far enough from the castle so that no one could find me - but I guess I was wrong. But then, James Potter always seems able to find me.

"Afraid?" I say, trying to mimic his carefree attitude. "What makes you say that?"

"Lily, you're completely glued to that trunk there. It wouldn't hurt you to come towards the edge every now and then."

I have a feeling that there was some deeper meaning to his statement, but I'm simply too tired to figure out what it is.

"Fine," I say, scooting towards him a bit, but still holding onto the trunk.

James laughs at me. "I promise, Lily, I won't bite."

"It's not biting I'm afraid of," I say, but I scoot towards him a little more.

"Fine," he says, with an infuriating grin on his face. "I promise I won't push you off. See? Now you have nothing to be afraid of."

"What if I fall off on my own accord? That happens a lot to me."

"You fall out of trees a lot?"

"Well, no," I say reluctantly. "But that's because whenever I sit in a tree, I am firmly attached to the trunk. No worries, see?"

"So then you're afraid ... of yourself?" He asks infuriatatingly.

"No!" I say strongly.

"So if you're not afraid of me, and you're not afraid of yourself, than what are you afraid of? The tree?"

"No," I say, "I'm not afraid of anything. I am Gryffindor, you know."

"Oh yes, how could I have forgotten?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" I ask, angry. I hate that he can insinuate stuff and I don't understand.

"Nothing, Lily. Don't overcomplicate this, alright?" He says, and, if I didn't know any better, I'd say he sounded a bit ... sad.

"James I wanted to–" I begin, but he cuts me off.

"Lily--"

"No, James," I insist. "Let me finish." I take a breath and grab onto the branch more firmly for support. "I just wanted to apologise. You know, for the night before. I ..." I trail off, hoping he'll cut me off.

He doesn't, so I am forced to continue.

"I was out of line, and I'm sorry. You were right I do–" I have trouble finishing this, but I continue: "I do care about you."

I glance over at him, hoping for some indication that I can stop talking, but he doesn't even look at me. He just stares off at the Quidditch pitch like he knows that I'll keep talking.

"That doesn't mean, that I want to date you or you know ... other stuff with you. Because you know, I don't. I just ... care about you, yeah? Like I care about my cat, or my wand, or something." I continue looking at him and at these words, he turns to me, cocking an eyebrow.

"Really?" He asks.

"Yes, definitely," I respond, going into rambling mode. "Now, don't read anything into this, but I think I must be nervous, at least, that is what my sweaty palms and racing heart seem to be screaming at me. Either that or I have some incurable disease that I will soon die of and everybody will be sad, I hope, at least I know Marlene might be and maybe Remus, and you might come, yeah, to my funeral?" I ask, but now I am the one who is not looking at him, looking at everything else but him. "Or maybe I'll just fall out of this tree now," I continue, "and I won't have time to get tested for the -itis that is affecting my brain and making me think these crazy thoughts about you night and day and then on my grave it'll say "Fell From Tree" and Dumbledore will have to start saying 'it is forbidden to climb trees' in his opening speeches right after the forest bit and those speeches are already too long anyway, you know? And that would be just terrible, Oh! And you would be implicated as well, unless you saved me which you probably won't, you know, since I'm pretty sure you hate me and are just coming up in this tree to torture me, or something - but it would be very bad, you know, if you were implicated in my death because then you'd have to go to Azkaban and I've read that it really isn't a very nice place and it would make your mum sad, and I like your mum, from what I've seen of her, and she shouldn't be sad anymore what with your dad and all ... Oh! I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have, I just ... James, are you mad at me?"And finally I look at him and that little bugger is smirking at me.

"Are you quite finished?" He asks.

I can't speak anymore. All my words are tied up in my throat. All I can do is nod.

"Good," he says. "My turn."

I wait for him to continue, and am surprised that things aren't very awkward, at least not as awkward as they should be, what with our last ... confrontation and all. In fact, he's been very nice and normal to me so far.

"I don't want to talk about that night," he says, looking straight at me. I can't bear to look at his eyes, so I pick a spot on his cheek, kinda near his ear, where he has a brown freckle. "But I want to apologise, too. I was snappish."

"James--" I interrupt, but he cuts me off so I don't get to continue.

"My turn, remember?" He says, and I would think that he was angry again but for the slight turn of the corners of his lips, as if he wanted to smirk.

"My dad and I were close, you know. Very close, and so when he died ... it ... you came at a bad time. But Lily, please don't apologise again. I forgive you and I understand and I'm not mad at you and ... we can be friends again, yeah? So will you stop avoiding me? It is hard to be Head Boy without the help of the Head Girl."

He smiles and I smile back at him. "Sure thing, Potter."

After a couple seconds of comfortable silence, he jumps out of the tree - a good seven, eight feet - and holds his arms out. "Jump!" he says.

"Are you crazy?!" I laugh and say.

"Talking to yourself again, Evans?"

"You–" I begin, about to say something I would probably regret later.

"C'mon, Lily! Jump! Are you a Gryffindor or not?" He taunts.

At this, I glare at him before taking a deep breath, closing my eyes, and ... jumping.

"Uf!" He says, as I jump into his arms. "Merlin, Evans, lay off the pudding, yeah?"

I smack him on the arm. "Hate you."

"No you don't," he retorts. " You looooove me." He smiles and whispers: "It's okay, Lily I won't tell anyone."

I glare at him, of course. "Put me down."

"No, I don't think I will," He smiles, then begins walking up to the castle.

"James!" I squeal, kicking and flapping around.

He finally puts me down and we laugh and joke up to the castle, friends again.

I know that things are back to normal again, but well, not back to normal at the same time. While before he pursued me and I ignored him when I could and cooperated with him when I had to, I could feel a sort of friendship forming between the two of us now. And, while my heart seemed to tweak a little at the word friendship, I knew that it was for the best. For now, at least.

A/N: Is this enough, or do I need to add a kissing scene?