When I woke up the next morning, I realized that my legs were in a need of a good shave, because on that particular day I'd be decked out in school uniform.

Yippee.

Yes, that was my inner muse's cynical, deprecating soliloquy, and I – being the spiffing genius that I am – realized that that sort of attitude needed to be kicked to the curb!

Oh dear. I'm going to need to work on that sarcasm thing.

After being sufficiently plucked, tweezed, waxed, and spritzed, I was bounding out the door... then bounding back, to retrieve a grumpy Kalypso, seeing as our discourteous lesser halves had decided to abandon us in favour of breakfast.

When we approached the Gryffindor table, Grace, whom I could see clearly, began making frantic motions as if to wave us away from where she and Alice sat. Yeah, right. Like she'd be getting rid of us that fast. Just because Alice and Frank were making goo goo eyes at each other, didn't mean we wouldn't be able to stomach it. Besides, as sweet as Grace is, even she wouldn't suffer without us, so what gave?

Why was she so adamant about us scurrying away from where she sat?

The answer came in the form of one group, four heads, and less than two brains to spare between the lot of them. Of course Merlin hated me – why else would my life be one freaking long nightmare?

Much to my surprise, as soon as my bottom hit the bench beside Grace, James Potter decided to grace me with his attention. Well, not so much direct attention as a suspiciously pink tinge to the cheeks, eyes concentrated on his lap, and a hastily muttered, " Hello, Evans."

Kalypso, so focused on glaring at anything and anyone within sight, managed to stop her little hate-fest to gawp at Potter. As did Grace. Frank and Alice? Well, they too were staring at the boys sitting across from us with large, buggy eyes.

My response was awesome, if I do say so myself.

"Lupin, will you pass the butter?" I asked, pouring myself some juice, perfectly content in ignoring the ex bane of my existence.

Because really – putting that much effort into acknowledging him would be like I cared.

And now that I'm pretty, confident, and totally over my pathetic delusional crush, why should I care?

Not caring was turning out to be so much fun.

Lupin stared at me open-mouthed for about five seconds before promptly snapping it shut and pushing the butter dish toward me.

Breakfast proved to remain a tense affair, such so that the girls and I were spared the usual sappiness and public displays of affection Alice and Frank so love to bestow upon us, their unwilling audience. However, it wasn't completely uneventful – not at all. Actually, it was kind of humorous with the total rigidness of Grace's back and Kalypso's icy cold demeanor toward the Marauders. I acted totally oblivious to the ugly, stupid imbeciles sitting before us, and began comparing our schedules as soon as they'd been passed out.

Did I catch, out of the very corner of my eye, one James Potter's stare?

Abso-bloody-lutely.

Unfortunately, while this attention some time, oh say, last year would have been thrilling, right now I am soo over it, and completely in (some) control of my surprisingly raging hormones.

Twenty minutes later, as I spooned some porridge onto my plate, I felt someone tap on my shoulder.

I turn around to get a glimpse of white shirt stretched over a very male, very taut stomach. Oh, baby. As my eyes trailed up to meet the owner of the fit body, I inwardly gasped, drooled, and fainted.

Doddridge Davies, all six glorious feet of him, was standing before me.

Oh my god, oh my god can I stress this ENOUGH?!

He's like – the Muggle equivalent to a rockstar! Sweet Jesus, I was staring at Hogwarts' own version of a pin-up model.

Picture this: tousled bronze hair, skin girls I know would Avada for, and a steaming hot torso.

And butt.

And very toned, tanned legs.

I would know.

When Ravenclaw had Quidditch practice, I'd sit in the stands not in support, but to watch Doddridge in those impossibly tight shorts that he likes to wear.

See? I'm so, so hormone-driven, it's insane.

Anyway, back to me turning around to see the god standing before me...

"Hello, Doddridge," I said pleasantly, giving him a charming smile.

"Hello Lily. How was your summer?" he grinned back affably, hands settled in pockets.

After a bit of idle chit chat, and a not-so-subtle poke in the ribs from Kalypso, I accepted his offer in taking a quick stroll around the Great Lake before classes started.

Who was I to deny this wonderful specimen of a fellow?

There was a little debate going on within me as to how he even knew of my existence, but I'm very skilled at pushing these little doubts and insecurities to the back of my head when I want. So, with approximately fifty-something minutes before classes commenced, he and I walked – rather close, mind – around the lake, talking as if we'd known one another for ages.

He asked me about previous years here, my family, Grace, Kalypso's famous family, Frank and Alice's relationship, and then...

"Erm Lily?" he came to a halt, shoving his hands deep within his pockets once more, staring at me from beneath his unkempt fringe.

While it looked annoyingly cocky on Potter, Doddridge just made it look plain sexy.

"Yes?" I asked breathlessly, staring into his beautiful eyes, trying to remember whether or not I had any spinach stuck in my teeth from that omlette I'd had.

"Do you uh – well, I uh – what I mean to say is – "

He gave a frustrated sigh, and then smiled at me sheepishly.

"You know, you sure know how to get a bloke's tongue tied."

I stared at him in astonishment. Me? Average, unpopular, stick-in-the-mud Lily Evans?

With encouragement from my gesture for him to continue, he blew out a puff of air.

"Would you like to go out to Hogsmeade with me this weekend? That is, if you're not already spoken for? I mean, not that I'm saying you couldn't be spoken for, you could, becoz you're right fit, and even though we haven't been back here too long, of course you'd be – "

I held up my hand, and he stopped rambling.

Merlin, he was so cute! He stared at me helplessly, clearly miserable at his botched-up attempt at asking me out.

But, really.

He'd gotten so nervous around moi?

My, my this boy was inflating the ego like none other.

"I'd love to."

And I threw inhibition to the wind and flashed my teeth at him, spinach be damned. I seemed to be in luck, seeing as instead of appearing repulsed, he merely smiled at me gratefully, as if I had been the one doing him a favour.

.

.

Exuberantly Doddridge's,

Lily

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Can I hear a 'rebound' anyone? Also, I had to factor in the American 'feet' thing while describing Davies' height, seeing as one – it sounds better – and two – I might as well get used to it, seeing as they always use this measurement here in the States. Please, please review!!