A/N: Muahahaha, my favorite chapter, as shown by the title and the Author's Notes in the last chapter. xD You'll see exactly why in a bit, so for now, I won't say anything except these few words: read, enjoy, and review!

I think I'm totally freaking out.

Actually, I know I am, but the thing is, I don't know why. Ever since my Friday night/Saturday morning conversation with James and the random words I've had with Anne about James, I've been in this constant state of apprehension and almost-panic. There's no reason whatsoever for it, but something stronger than logic is tearing constantly at my insides, as though warning me that something big is going to happen soon. A sure sign on that brilliant something would be lovely, but I'm completely in the dark – if I ask Anne about why I'm feeling this way, she'll only say that I'm falling in love. Annoyingly enough, she won't say with whom, though she clearly does imply that it's James. I always remind her that I don't fall in love, but she declares that maybe this is the exception – maybe this is the time that's going to count for something. At this point, I will normally declare that she must have eaten too much chocolate and it's getting to her brain, which will win me some dirty looks, but those are the extent of it.

Yes, and that's the other major thing that keeps me on my toes! James! Anne is always so weird when the topic of me and James comes up in conversation – she'll say we're meant to be (i.e. she'll spit out whatever I've been telling her for the past while) but she'll have this look in her eyes, which changes day to day. I've seen her look really upset that she thinks she won't ever be with James, but there are times when I see empathy – she's trying to find what's best for me, even if that means taking away what she used to feel was best for herself. If I see that glint of compassion in her, I take no hesitation in straight-out asking her whether or not she wants to be with James. She isn't someone to lie right to a friend's face, a fact I've known since I met her, and when she shifts uncomfortably at the prospect of answering such a direct question, I realize that she was completely serious the day she said she would break up with him. It's getting bad these days – I'm genuinely scared that she's going to soon get rid of everything I've worked towards for her.

To sum it all up, it's been a very tense time for me and Anne – we're like trapeze artists on opposite ends, lingering delicately to balance on a very fine wire. We won't talk about it, but the mood is there, and it's undeniable – every moment James is with us, I wonder how he doesn't notice the looks Anne and I sometimes exchange with each other. Or, maybe he does notice, but he doesn't say anything, like we also prefer not to. That's one of those troubling things about James; he can feel tremendous amounts of emotion towards something, but it takes candid probing and questioning to figure everything out – probing and questioning people don't always take the time to do. I wonder if even Anne has done it yet; she generally takes things for face-value and doesn't dig any deeper unless she has to, and her definition of necessary has differed from mine since day one. Ah, well – that's life, isn't it?

So, fast-forwarding to today, it's Wednesday, the day I planned on meeting James. Right now, I'm making my way down to breakfast, reflecting upon these thoughts with a certain dread; I don't want to destroy the equilibrium tonight, the way I think I might. Anne is with James, I am helping them both with their homework; this is how it should always be, contrary to popular belief. Anne is walking right next to me, and if I asked her, I'm sure that if she was honest with herself, she'd say that I was right – she's just trying to live down another statement of truth coming from my mouth with utter denial, and I know it.

So, finally tired of my brooding state, Anne chooses to carelessly obliterates my reverie to inquire, "So…a Knut for your thoughts, Miss Lily?"

I start – I know she's there, but when I don't speak to her for so long, I have a hard time adjusting to her existence again. "Sorry?"

"You're totally in your own little world here," Anne says, gesturing at me. "I want to know what has you so bugged, seeing as you haven't said a word to me since we woke up this morning."

I sigh. "I'm not really bugged, Annie – I'm thoughtful. I don't want to help James again tonight."

"Why not?" she asks. "Didn't you decide that you wanted to accept James as more than a parasite now?"

"Yes, but that doesn't mean that we're awkward beyond belief around each other," I remind her. "Didn't I tell you about the conversation we'd had after you went up to bed?"

"Oh yeah," Anne says, remembering this with a silly smile on her face. "He likes you – I've told you that before, but you never believed me. Be nice to him and he'll respond; it's so easy. Tonight will be just fine if you don't overcomplicate it. You have a terrible habit of doing that."

"I do?" I know what her answer is going to be, of course, but it's best to play dumb to get a full explanation that I'm interested to hear.

"Yes, you do overcomplicate things," Anne confirms for me. "You could seriously make someone doubt that one and one makes two, Lils – you're so insecure that way. You can't make a stand, you can't be blunt, and you can't trust yourself – do you know how bad that is?"

"I'm not insecure," I argue. "I know exactly what I want – it's just that my values almost never match yours."

"Yeah, that's your other problem," Anne says, changing tack faster than I can think of another decent argument. "You're so convinced that you're right on track that you stray even farther from what you need! Can't you just listen me for once, rather than just assuming I'm stupid and that what I have to say doesn't matter?"

"You know I don't do that, but can we stop harping on my faults anyway?" I request. "I don't like it."

"Of course you don't like it," Anne tells me, pleased with the victory that is within her grasp by now. "I'm telling you a truth that you don't want to hear – no one likes that."

"Thank you," I say curtly as we approach the Great Hall. "But right now, I'm hungry; I don't want to have you shove personal criticism down my throat, because I want to shove toast in as an alternative. It's much better for my digestion, if you get my drift."

Anne rolls her eyes, but opens the door of the hall for me anyway, changing the subject as she does – this pleases me, obviously. Now that I've successfully got Anne off my back this morning, she won't bother me again until after school later, which only leaves worrying about James on my daily to-do list, right above what I'm going to do with him in a few short hours.

Evidently, my life is nothing but a never-ending cycle of fun.

&&&

In the evening after yet another exhausting day of school, I am about to settle down on my favorite couch in the common room at five, as usual, to do my homework, but when I go to sit down, I see that my seat is occupied by none other than Sirius Black. He is playing with his Fanged Frisbee without a care in the world, absorbed by the object and its minuscule teeth, and it takes me several significant coughs to make him acknowledge my presence. He looks up at me with surprise, astonished that I have come to talk to him; I tend to avoid him on normal days.

"All right, Queen Evans of All that is Homework-Related?" he inquires sardonically, giving me a nod of his head and a mockingly questioning look.

"Yes, Royal Subject Black of All that is Indolent and Procrastination-Loving, I'm fine," I require back, my tone cutting. "But you are currently seated in my favorite throne and I wish to do what I do best, my homework, so I'm hoping that you will get your lazy arse off of it."

Sirius smirks, gives me a sarcastic slap on my rear, and moves to the sofa next to mine as I curtsey for him and take a seat. I take out my books while Sirius strokes his toy, appearing to be deep in thought, but after a few minutes, he speaks.

"So, Evans…really, how are you?" he asks me, his voice screaming out boredom as the main reason he is talking to me.

"Fine," I answer vaguely, turning a page in my book and not bothering to look up at him. "Just fine."

"Glad to hear it." He gives me another nod, though it's not as sarcastic.

I sit with him for a few more minutes, but the silence is pretty gauche, so simply for the sake of saying something, I solicit my latest thought: "So did James tell you when he was coming down here for help on his essay?"

"Yeah, he said around six," he says flippantly. "He didn't want to bother you right away, since he knows you like doing your homework at five, which I presume would be now, since you're here."

"Oh," I say, stunned by this unexpected thoughtfulness. "Well, that was rather nice of him."

"He enjoys doing stupid things for you," Sirius says confidentially. "He still likes you."

"He's going out with Anne," I remind him flatly. I don't know why I'm not as happy about this as I was a few days back.

"He is, but that doesn't mean he got over you, or that he even necessarily likes Anne that way," Sirius tells me. "I know for a fact that he still likes you – I'm his best friend."

"Remus said Anne was exactly what James needs right now," I say before I can stop myself, trying to get my facts straight. "He must like her."

"Remus would tell you something like that, but it's not the case," Sirius says, shaking his head. "He likes Anne, but you're still his favorite."

"That can't be right, stop lying to me," I say shortly, not wanting to continue this conversation any longer. "I don't want to hear it."

"Suit yourself, but denial can only take you so far." With a cruelly obscure shrug, he picks up his Fanged Frisbee again. "I think I want to go get a snack," he muses aloud. "Something fattening that will make Remus faint over how many pounds he thinks I'm going to gain from it. Enjoy your homework then, my Queen." With this, he chucks his Frisbee across the room, hitting an innocent first year in the head, and gets up to exit the common room, leaving me with a low bow to my befuddled interpretations of our conversation in his wake.

Great, I think as I go back to my homework, my mind anywhere but within my books, for once; I don't know what he meant by all that waffle he just presented me with, but I'll make my mind up officially after I'm done patching up James's writing skills.

&&&

Sure enough, Sirius's statement came true a little while later, at about ten past six – James saunters over to me while I'm still sitting on my favorite sofa (this time not running like he was previously) and sits down next to me, grinning.

"Hey, Lily," he says warmly.

"Hi," I say, hoping to sound nonchalant.

"Where's Anne?" He looks around for her, which lets me breathe a sigh of relief to myself before talking to hi again.

"She doesn't feel like studying right now, apparently," I say, a slightly cold edge to my tone. "She's going to beg for my help later tonight."

James smiles. "That figures – she wanted me to go out just now."

I choose not to respond to this, and inquire, "So are you ready to sincerely work? I don't have much time to give you."

"Yes, I'm ready," he assures me. "I wrote my entire essay last night – Peter and Sirius thought I was nuts, and Remus thought I was going through a reform." He snorts as he takes out the essay from his bag. "I thought it was pretty good though – I actually knew what I was talking about this time. Potions has never been my forte, if you know what I mean."

"I see." I scan through his paper. "Well, it doesn't look half-bad from here, but I'm going to read it through before I say anything."

"Sounds good to me." James's smile is relaxed as he leans back on his chair. "Take your time."

I smirk, but go on reading anyway. I do have to take out my quill and scratch out a few things, as well as add some in, but his essay is much better than the ones Anne tries to turn in all the time – he's got a great way with words when he understands his subject matter. I'm absorbed by the vivid descriptions he manages to provide – they make the dry topic almost interesting. Is there anything the perfect James Potter can't do?

As I go through, sometimes fixing and sometimes just admiring his word usage, I hear someone enter the common room. Out of reflex, I look up, and I see that it is Anne, who looks utterly pleased to see us both together. She bounces up to us, in the highest of moods, and sits across from us, her face glowing.

"Hey Jamesie, hey Lily," she greets us. "What's going on here?"

"I'm helping James on his essay," I say, delicately stressing the proper pronunciation of his name – somehow, cutesy nicknames fully manage to annoy me. "I should be looking over yours, too, but you unfortunately had other business that was more important to you."

"Oh, relax, Lils," she says airily. "Homework can wait. I was out at Hogsmeade just now, and they have the cutest little tea store that's opened up across from Madam Puddifoot's, and I wanted to know if James wanted to go with me there." She glances expectantly at him, and I give him the same look, but with a different expectation – I want him to stay so that he can do his bloody editing. James takes both of our faces in, and sighs.

"Sorry, Anne, but I promised Lily I'd do this right now, and I will," he says. "We'll go a bit later, all right?"

I do an internal victory dance; I win! I don't know why this makes me so happy, but it does, so I keep my mouth shut and wait for Anne to respond. She makes a highly revolted expression, but then she gives him a broad grin and comes forward. "Fine, fine, study," she says. "At least kiss me and give me something to on, will you?"

James smiles and obliges – I turn slightly away, unwilling to stare at my best friend while she snogs my new-friend-who-happened-to-be-my-ex-enemy. It doesn't last very long, thankfully, but it's because Anne pulls away after a bit, a guise of thoughtfulness on her face. James looks questioningly at her, as do I, and she answers both of us by saying, "You know, James, I only just realized that you're a terrible kisser."

I can't help it – I burst out laughing when she says this. James is amused to a certain extent, but he raises his eyebrows in confusion and resentment. "Excuse me?" he asks.

Anne giggles. "I'm sorry, really, but you are."

"Yes, and that's why you kiss me all the time, right?" He, like me, thinks it's a bit rich of her to call him a bad kisser after all the kissing she's engaged him in lately, and I'm fascinated in seeing how this conversation goes.

"It's not a bad thing, calm down," Anne says, smiling at him and affectionately adjusting his bangs to make them frame his face. "I'm just saying you're a bad kisser. We'll fix that, but later – you have homework to do and I have some window-shopping I feel like doing." She waves and says, "Bye, you two."

"Bye," we say simultaneously, our voices dumbfounded.

Anne laughs merrily and departs through the portrait hole. Once she's gone, James and I sit together, awkward and noiseless, until I finally clear my throat and say, "I'm just going to finish this essay now so you can accompany Anne to that shop. I'm nearly done."

"Fine by me." James's face is reflective as he leans back to his original spot as I return my attention to his papers, and we are without any sound again – it's amazing how prone we are to these awkward silences. If we were really meant to be, as Anne likes to claim we are, that wouldn't happen – conversation would flow without any effort. Well, more evidence for me, anyway; I suppose there's nothing more to think about on that matter. I make my final corrections and am about to tell James I'm finished, but he speaks first.

"Lily, tell me the truth – am I a bad kisser?" he asks me worriedly, as though this is the biggest, most philosophical question in the world and his life depends on the reply he gives.

"Erm…" I don't have any experience whatsoever with kissing boys, so I can't give him a very good answer. However, I do have some ideas as to why Anne would think that he was a bad kisser, so I decide to share them with him. "Well," I start uneasily. "You kind of…attack her."

"She kisses me," James corrects me. "She attacks me."

"No, I mean when you actually make…make contact," I stutter; I can hardly believe I'm exchanging this type of dialogue with James Potter, of all people, making coherent speech a wee bit on the difficult side. "You take way too much control. A kiss is supposed to be tender and sweet, isn't it?"

"I suppose." James is surprised that these words can come out of my mouth. "That's very smart – what else did I do wrong?"

"And you kind of fall forward to her," I continue. "Don't do that – ease into it more."

"Just be gentle? Is that it?" he muses. "I used to do that, but that was when I was dubbed a bad kisser; I'm supposed to be a damn good one right now. Guess not."

"Just because the girls you dated are obscenely violent with their kissing, doesn't mean you have to listen to them," I point out.

"How do you know so much about kissing?" he wants to know.

"I don't," I say with a nervous giggle. "I haven't kissed anyone, but I know I'd want it to be."

His eyes come alive then with a handsome darkness and curiosity, and I can't help but be a little mesmerized by them. In an instant, he's being open with me and not hiding what's going on in that head of his, so his intensity is able to shine through for the very first time. It's disconcerting, this sudden change in emotion – I've never seen James look at me this way before. I should probably feel a little grateful that he's finally not afraid of me, but now, I'm the one who's afraid of him; why is it happening like this?!

"Really?" he finally asks me.

"Yeah," I say stupidly, trying to snap back into reality and the boy in front of me. "I read too many romance novels for my own good."

He continues to stare at me, not saying a word, and I'm simply motionless; I don't know what's going on here. His face hasn't changed – his expression is still light and close-to-friendly, as it had been before, but now there's some quality to it that I can't put my finger on. It's not hard or too intense to handle or anything, but I guess I can say that it just has more depth this time; I never saw James Potter as a real person with real emotions he might show me until this moment. He has never acted like this around me before, consequently robbing me of a way to know how to respond, so I figure it's just better to play it safe, quiet. I'll let him make the first move, if he wants to make one at all.

And Merlin, he does make the first move. He leans in slowly, carefully yet gracefully, towards me until his mouth is right by mine. It's terrifying, having him so close to me; I can feel everything about him – the scent of new grass and pine trees, the warmth of his breathing on my face, his weight resting on my thigh, the heat of his hand on my own. It's all startlingly new, but I find that I'm almost enjoying it. Almost. "Like this?" he whispers, his breath tickling my nose.

Right then, I get that sensation just behind my navel which tells me something big is about to happen, as well as the jitters that come with the fact that someone is so close to me – am I about to get my first kiss? I can't even budge; I just sit there, with James Potter right in my face. However, I do shock myself by listening to that crazy part of me and whispering one word back to him: "Yes."

With a near air of surrender, he shyly lets his lips capture mine, and before I know it, I'm seriously kissing him. Kissing the boy I had sworn to hate since I was eleven, simply because he wanted to know if he was doing it right! Kissing a boy that I only became friends with a few days back! Kissing a boy who was going out with my best friend! Oh shit; he's going out with Anne. Alarm bells instantaneously go off in my head, and I try to pull away, but I can't. Every part of me is screaming at me to stop him, but I can't. I taste the residue of something sweeter than the most sugary candy bar in the world on those lips of his, and I need more – it's shameful, but I do. Every time I try to pull away, I keep coming back for more, and before I know it, we are deepening the kiss. My hands are around his neck and starting to snake up to his hair, while he's pulling me closer, fingers around my waist; the world is crashing down behind me, but I can't seem to make myself care. I know somewhere in the back of my brain that this isn't right, this isn't fair to Anne, this isn't what I want, but at the same time, it is what I want – like a guilty pleasure. When his hand starts to move to my back, that's when I finally regain control over my senses and break the now-very-involved kiss with a sharp intake of breath. My heart is beating at a hundred times its normal rate, and I'm revolted with myself. What the bloody hell did I just do and why did I do it?!

James looks astonished as well – he's staring at me again, but his face is blank with surprise; he, like me, had never expected to get that kind of a kiss, least of all now, since he's going out with Anne. Had those eyes always been so big and beautiful, or is it just now? I can't even think; I try to catch my breath, and the moment I do, I gulp and feel the temperature rise to my cheeks – oh gosh. I'm screwed. Screwed, screwed, screwed.

"I'm sorry," he says then, obviously discomfited by my obvious horror. "I shouldn't have done that."

"You were much gentler until the end there, if that helps," I offer, desperate for anything to say that doesn't expose the plethora of emotions that are coursing through my body at dangerous speeds at the moment.

James still looks concerned about me, so I cough and pick up the forgotten essay I'd edited for him; "Here," I say, thrusting it roughly at him. "Look at my corrections and then turn it in. That's it, we're done, nothing else to say." My words tumble out quickly and shakily, and I sound like I'm babbling, but I can't help it – I'm anxious. I shove the essay at him, not daring to meet those eyes again after knowing their effect on me, and stuff my things into my bag.

"Good-bye, Potter," I add just before I leave, purposely not calling him James. "Have a lovely day."

"Lily," he says, trying to stop me, but I determinedly stalk up the stairs, wanting to get away – far away – from him.

I fly up to my dormitory, slam my door shut, and fall on my bed, my head whirling. Well! That was not the way I'd planned on helping James Potter today! Oh dear Merlin, what have I just gotten myself into?! I kissed him! Why the bloody hell did I kiss him? I shouldn't have, it was stupid, and he just wanted advice with words, not with lips – why did I kiss him? I've rejected him so many times, so what was different about this time? Why did he come up on me like that? What's wrong here? I don't understand this, truly, I don't – I didn't mean to kiss him! It can't be right, because I don't love him or anything, and it can't be moral either, seeing as I've recently matched my best friend with him. I feel like I've sinned by succumbing to him, which I have – he's my best friend's boyfriend. He's off-limits! I swallow thickly and let a single hot tear roll gently down my cheek; what have I done?

However, I can't be the only one to blame here – I realize this with a jolt as I lay my head back on my pillow in misery. I mean, I made sure I didn't make the first move; that was purely James. James leaned forward a few minutes ago, James asked me about kissing, and James was the only one to ever express any kind of attraction in the first place; he is the common denominator in everything here, unlike me. If Anne gets mad, I'll have to remember to point this out.

I sigh, and let my finger run across my bottom lip. I can still feel the essence of him on that surface, like a sprinkling of magic fairy dust, and I hate that. I hate that I let him get under my skin; how can one person I didn't even like do all this to me? It's not right – it's beyond that, it's upsetting, if I want to get technical. Even if it was my first, I shouldn't like that kiss so much; I shouldn't even be thinking about it anymore. A wave of something ugly and murderous rises up somewhere in my lower intestine, but it's immediately followed up by something perversely attracted to him as well – what the hell is going on with me? I let a second tear join the dregs of the first; this is getting quite, quite complicated here, and I'm not sure how to fix it. I kissed James Potter, the boy I used to hate; it's like the Fairy Godmother making a move on Prince Charming behind poor Cinderella's back. Not only does it not go with the story, it's appalling and sickening! I take a shaky breath to attempt to relax myself; something must be and will be done, starting tomorrow morning, since there's nothing I can do in the present time.

Really, tonight, the only thing I can possibly do is tell Anne that I kissed her boyfriend while she was out window-shopping in Hogsmeade.

I go with what I said before, in that case – I'm so screwed beyond belief.

A/N: Wow…if you knew how much editing and fussing went into that chapter, you'd probably laugh at me. It was just so difficult, getting the right feelings and conceptions out there with this one; it's one of the most complex things I've ever written. I'm still not fully content with it. However, no, you're not supposed to know the full extent of the kiss right now – that's for the next chapter, as well as some other housekeeping sorts of topics. :P So, now that I've given you something exciting to read, I'd like a review from you so that I can go on to the next chapter full steam ahead! It's that purplish button down there, do you see it? Good, good; click on it.