Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is actually my pen name, so the series is all mine after all. What, no takers? Sigh…it was worth a shot. Maybe someday I'll own it…

I cannot thank you all enough for the reviews! 16 in three days? That's amazing. You guys are great; I'm so happy you love the story so much! Also, thank you to lucyjoan for pointing out a grammar mistake in Chapter 3 (it's fixed now :D)!

Now, let us see what happens when a certain Mr. Potter and Miss Evans do some homework…

CHAPTER FOUR: Transfiguration and Tension

The day was rather uneventful, and I returned to the common room the evening with two essays to write and an aching shoulder from carrying my overstuffed bag around all day. I sat down in the last empty armchair and spread out a piece of parchment. "Hey, Lily," Erica said, pausing briefly next to my chair. Suddenly, the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open and in they walked. "Well," Erica giggled, "I'll leave you to your work!" She flounced off to the dormitory and was replaced almost instantaneously by Potter.

"So," he said. "Transfiguration."

"Not now, Potter."

"You said you'd help me!" he exclaimed defiantly.

"That doesn't mean I'm going to drop everything just so I can cater to your needs."

"Ah, I get it," Potter said with a suggestive wink, "you don't want to have an audience."

"Bugger off, Potter. Transfiguration can wait till after dinner."

"Alright, alright." James held his hands up in defeat. "See you then, Evans."

….

"Alright, James, tell me what the assignment was."

"Two rolls of parchment on the importance of proper wand movement when performing animal-to-object transformations," he recited in a bored voice. Then, his face lit up. "Hey!"

"What?" I asked.

"You called me James."

Oh. "Yeah, I—I guess I did."

"So, does that mean I can call you Lily now? Because, well, calling you Evans makes me think of my Uncle Evan, and he's old and warty, so—"

"I remind you of warty old men?" I asked, raising one eyebrow.

His eyes twinkled. "It's a turn-on."

"You're disgusting!" I said, laughing.

"You like it."

"I like sleeping. So let's get this essay done."

"Right. Where do I start?"

"Put your name at the top. That is, if you know how to spell it," I teased.

"Aren't you a charmer."

"Come on, I have to finish mine before bed, too."

"Relax, Evans! I mean, Lily." His quill scratched across the parchment as he wrote.

Two hours and several long minutes later, we were faced with severe frustration and an empty common room. I had long since completed my own essay and had spent the last forty-five minutes giving James writing tips and correcting the facts he had gotten wrong. He was now on the last paragraph of his composition.

"Almost done, Lily!" He said for the fourth time.

"Excellent, James," I replied, paging through Goblin Revolts of the 1930s while I waited to look over James's essay, which was no doubt wrought with spelling errors.

"And…finished!" James shouted, whipping his quill with a flourish.

"Give it here, I'll proof it." He handed me his essay, written in untidy scrawl, and I began looking it over. After a couple of minutes, I glanced up to see James sitting in a comfortable, slouching position, staring at me. I shot him a quizzical look.

"You're so serious," he told me, a smile playing around his lips.

"I'm concentrating."

"Hmm."

"Pass me that inkpot." James raised an eyebrow. "Please."

"Better." He held it out to me and I reached for it, wincing as the sore muscles in my shoulder were strained. This did not go unnoticed. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just my shoulder. My bag is really heavy; carrying the sodding thing around all day takes a toll after a while. I have so many books—what are you doing?" He had gotten up and circled around me. Before I even had time to think, I felt his strong hands massaging my shoulders.

"Feel better?" he asked softly as he kneaded my muscles.

I felt the heat rise in my cheeks and looked down at his essay once more. Clearing my throat, I said, "You, uh, spelled Vera Verto wrong. And Maurice the Malevolent died due to a spell malfunction, he wasn't murdered. You—"

"Lily. You're babbling."

"Sorry," I said sheepishly.

"You know, the point of a backrub is to make you relax," he said, moving his hands closer to my neck and hitting a sensitive spot. Sweet Merlin, it felt good. But this was James Potter.

"Uhm," I stuttered, standing up in less time than it took to Apparate. "I'm going to go to bed."

James's hands abruptly stopped moving. "Alright," he said.

"Okay."

"'Night."

"Mhmm."

"Bye."

"Bye." I gathered my things and hurried up the stairs, pausing at the top when I heard James's voice. "You really should relax a little, Lily. I'm always available." He winked and gave me a cute smile, his eyes laughing behind his glasses. I nodded before pushing the door of the dormitory open. I was not going to sleep a wink, of that I was certain.

Damn, that Lily Evans is a lucky girl! Now, if only she'd realize it. All in good time, faithful readers, all in good time….

So, what would your Patronus be? Mine, you ask? Definitely a horse.