Summary: "If you don't stop talking to me, I WILL hex you," I told James. The prat shut up and stared at me. Eh, I'll hex him anyway. Do NOT annoy Lily Evans.

Disclaimer: Omglookashinypony!

A/N: Okay, so I went back and fixed the thing about James' hair when he was bald—sorry about that!

To the confusion with fun suckers? I meant switch each of the first letters: the F and the S. You may draw your own conclusions.

Livin and Breathin? Omg, I think I love you. You are so totally allowed to use that disclaimer.

You guys are fantastic—this last week, I've gotten a ridiculous amounts of reviews. Have fun with this!

Yes, darlings, we have traveled back to Lily Billy's mind.

So, I seem to have picked up a gaggle of third and fourth year groupies. I'm not even joking. They seem to follow Chip and me everywhere, oohing and ahhing over everyone we know and everything we say. They hang on our every word and copy our every movement.

It's rather flattering, actually. And to be honest, more than a little creepy. I mean, all it takes is for one of them to knock me out and start clipping my hair to put in a polyjuice potion, and my identity is lost. I even taught them how to brew a polyjuice potion, as extra credit for Slughorn. That's like putting the gun into the murderer's hand!

Maybe I should shave my head.

Anyways, they have taken to following me around, which I don't mind too much. Except for the part where it kind of makes me seem like a mother duck being followed by a bunch of little ducklings, all getting underfoot.

"So, Lily, I saw you and James Potter go off together yesterday," Christa squealed.

"More like he picked her up and carried her off," Emily corrected.

"It was so romantic!" Tracie gushed.

"Actually, it was more like being treated like a sack of potatoes," I told them, feeling a blush grow on my cheeks.

"So what did he do?" Katie demanded.

"Threw me in the lake."

They all oohed. "You went SWIMMING with him!" Somehow, they seem to manage to make the worst actions into something romantic or provocative.

"Did he kiss you?" Christa asked. Naturally, I hesitated. Cue eight or so high pitched squeals. Ouch.

"Did you kiss him back?" I opened my mouth to lie, only to find that I couldn't. More squeals.

"Well? Do you like him?" Christa wanted to know.

"No!" I protested, blushing brightly, which they took as a solid affirmative. Oh my goodness, what will this do to my reputation? If I even have one left when all is said and done…

.xXx.

Now into the evil vortex that is our dear Marauder's mind.

I looked up from my book as Christa sauntered into my dorm. I raised my eyebrows expectantly. "Well?" The girl sat on the edge of my bed, pouting prettily at me.

"I'll hold up my end of the bargain if you hold up yours," she said, looking up at me through her lashes.

I grinned. "It's all set up," I assured her. "Hogsmeade this Saturday, he'll get a table for the two of you at Madame Puddifoot's. Now, dish."

"Well," she said slowly, scooting closer to me. "She didn't want to talk about you."

My face fell. "Oh."

She made an exasperated sound. "That's a good thing, James," Christa assured me. "And she wouldn't tell us that you kissed. And she didn't deny kissing you back."

"Which means…?" It seems I am very deaf to girl-speak. Maybe I'm on the wrong channel.

"Which means that she totally liked it. And then she denied liking you!"

"…"

Christa rolled her eyes. "Which means she likes you!"

I struggled to close my mouth. "Really?"

"Really."

I whooped and jumped up, grabbing Christa around the waist and swinging her in a circle. "Christa, that's fantastic!"

She laughed as I set her back down. "Now, we have a deal, don't we?"

"Yep. He'll have a bouquet of blue roses on the table so you can find him more easily."

"Blue roses?"

"Blue roses."