Disclaimer: Do you honestly think that if I were J.K. Rowling, I would be writing fanfiction right now? I should certainly hope not—I would be slaving to finish "Half Blood Prince" (did you all know that's the name of Book 6?) at the speed of light. Or at least in a decade or so. So to answer the burning question: no, I am not J.K.

Previously in "The Strangest Courtship":

He glanced longingly at her one more time; she was murmering again....what was she saying? Involuntarily, he leaned forward a little....she was saying the same thing over and over; what was it? She moved the cloak a little so it was no longer blocking her mouth, and then suddenly he could hear her words:

"Sirius....Sirius....Sirius....Sirius...."

James felt his heart plummet to the pit of his stomach, and he turned and fled the infirmary.

Chapter Six:

Malfoy's Malice

Lily awoke in the morning when the hot September sun slanted across her face. She started when she saw her surroundings, before she remembered Arabella bringing her into the infirmary the night before. She had dreamed that Sirius had given her his cloak, and that he had sat by her all night long, smoothing the damp hair out of her face and squeezing her hand.

She shifted uncomfortably; she shouldn't be having those kinds of thoughts about one of the Marauders, of all people! Then Lily got the second shock of the morning when she looked down to find herself clutching what was definitely a boy's cloak. Sirius'? But no—now she remembered....James had felt obligated to throw his own cloak stiffly to her when she had been shivering in the carriage.

She glanced at the clock and saw it was almost seven; being an early bird and wanting to be on time for her first day of classes, Lily stepped out of bed to her clothes. She soon realized, to her dismay, that the clothes on the chair were of course her damp and muddy muggle clothes from the night before; all her robes and trunks had been sent to her dormitory.

She was wearing only a thin nightgown, so she threw James' robe around her and tied her messy hair up in a ponytail. She bundled the rest of her clothes into a ball and held them close to her as she hurried out of the infirmary. She hoped she wouldn't run into anyone on the way to her dormitory, because she didn't want to start any back to her dormitory early in the morning, wearing a boy's cloak, hair messy, clutching a bundle of clothes....Eurgh.

Unfortunately, Lily was soon met with the person she wanted to see least: Lucius Malfoy. He sauntered towards Lily, looking like Christmas had come early.

"Looking good, Mudblood," said Malfoy, licking his lips. Lily was struck suddenly with how similar Malfoy's comments were to Sirius', but how Malfoy's words were laden with so much more malice.

"Go back to the dungeons, Malfoy," Lily snapped with as much force as she could muster in her weak, tired state.

"Ooh, Mudblood wants to hurry back to her rooms before a teacher catches her in such an....indecent....state. Who was the lucky boy, Evans? Was it your first time?"

"Merlin! Just....fuck off, okay Malfoy? I was in the infirmary, for heaven's sake!"

"Then why are you wearing a man's cloak, eh Lily? Seems pretty incriminating to me."

"Someone gave it to me on the way to school because I was really cold and ill! Just....leave me alone, okay?" But Malfoy was no longer listening to Lily's words, because his eyes were fastened to something in her bundle of clothes.

"You're not wearing any underwear, Evans?" Malfoy let out a long, low whistle. He began advancing on her like a predator, his hands twitching. "Don't make a sound, Evans," he said, "or I'll make this situation a lot more uncomfortable for you." "There are bound to be teachers about," gasped Lily, feeling horribly frightened.

"I'll be quick," said Malfoy greasily. He pulled the cloak violently off Lily's shoulders, leaving her in only her thin nightgown. Malfoy smirked, but true to word, he didn't waste any time now with comments. His eyes were dark with lust and malice. Lily whimpered. Malfoy bent down and now his twitching, eager hands were at the hem of her nightgown. Now they were under it, they were traveling up her legs, up her thighs, until the nightgown was bunched up by her hips. His hands ran hungrily over her hips, her stomach, he kneaded her buttocks, his hands traveled over her waist and back and finally up to her breasts. He began to grope them disgustingly, and though Lily was kicking at him and trying to scratch and bite, she couldn't reach her wand and she knew he wasn't lying when he warned her not to yell.

Lily whimpered and gasped, and then suddenly she saw a tall boy with messy dark hair round the corner at the far end of the corridor. James' head was down and he was staring vacantly at the floor; he hadn't been able to sleep all night because he'd been thinking of Lily, and now he was trying to distract himself by thinking of plays for the upcoming Quiddich match against Slytherin.

Lily finally managed to gasp out: "Potter!" in desperation, and his head snapped up. There, at the end of the corridor, was the one person who had been occupying his mind all night, being groped—he hoped not more—by the one person he hated enough to Avada Kedavra.

"Li-Evans!" he cried out, breaking into a sprint. In moments, he was by them, wand out and pointed at Malfoy's throat. "Let go of her," he said coldly (and, Lily thought, with even more menace than Malfoy had used earlier), averting his eyes from the bunched-up nightgown. Malfoy's hand dropped and Lily hurried to straighten the nightgown. Then she bent to the ground to gather up her fallen clothes—and underwear—and James' cloak, he noticed.

"I would kill you, Malfoy," rasped James, "but then I would be expelled. So I will leave you instead with the warning that if you ever touch Evans again, you might find one Quiddich game that your broom has a mysterious and fatal curse set on it, or you might get food poisoning at your next meal, or—"

"Yeah, I get the point, Potter," said Malfoy harshly. "But what's it to you, anyway? She your girlfriend or something?"

"No!" said Lily and James quickly, and at the same time. James continued:

"I just don't like to see your dirty hands on anything that belongs to Gryffindor," he said.

"Aw, let it up, Potter," said Malfoy. "Come on, no one's around....you want to give her a try? I won't tell, you know that." James looked at Lily.

"Potter, no!" she gasped, unable to believe that he would sink to that level. But Malfoy spoke before James could reply.

"I was only feeling her up for a few minutes," said Malfoy, "but I have to tell you: for a Mudblood, she's a fucking goddess." James glared at Malfoy with unbelievable hatred in his eyes. "Come on," Malfoy goaded, "just give her a feel; I can see you're lusting after her....this is probably your only chance."

Suddenly James came to his senses just in time; his anger was threatening to get out of control and if he'd left it much longer, he probably would have lunged at Malfoy and killed him the old-fashioned way—with his bare hands.

"You fucking rapist!" he yelled at Malfoy. "Get to the dungeons now, you pervert, you disgusting piece of filth. I might think Evans is pretty, but if you ever for one moment thought that I would sink to your level for a little bit of fucking satisfaction, then you're even stupider than I thought! I, at least, can get girls the normal way!" With that, James brandished his wand once more at Malfoy, pointing it this time at his forehead. "Go," snarled James, and Malfoy ran as fast as he could down the corridor and away.

James turned finally to Lily, after watching for a minute to make sure Malfoy was indeed gone. James' face was red with anger, but his state was nothing compared to that of Lily. Her face was deathly white—she was past embarassment, past shame, and into shock—and her eyes wide with fear; she clutched her clothes to her chest like a drowning man would clutch a life preserver; and she was trembling like a leaf.

"Evans," James said softly, still not willing to call her Lily.

Lily's eyes welled up and a single tear fell down her cheek. "Oh, my God...." she said in a shaking voice. "....oh, my God...." James didn't know what to say.

"He's gone now," he said in what he hoped was a soothing voice and not an angry one. "And at least....I mean, he didn't go past....groping and things, right?"

"What do you mean, at least?" said Lily angrily.

"Well," said James uneasily, "he might have gone further—"

"Listen, I've—I have—well, I had never been that far before, okay? I mean, I've never even had a boyfriend."

James' eyes widened in surprise. "I'm sorry," he muttered, "I didn't know that."

"Of course you didn't know that!" said Lily angrily. "Well, at least he didn't kiss me."

James' eyes widened further. Oh Merlin, he didn't want Sirius doing things to her! He didn't before, but now....not only was she a virgin, she was completely untouched. Sirius wouldn't be gentle with her; he didn't know how to be. He was used to being with experienced girls; Merlin, what if Sirius were to hurt her by accident? No, Sirius wouldn't be gentle with her....

"I'm—I'm sorry...." James stuttered. "Can I—is there anything—?"

"Here's your cloak," said Lily angrily, throwing it at him. She wasn't angry at him, but she was angry nevertheless, and he was the only person she could lash out on.

James looked rather stricken at her harsh tone, and rightfully so; he had just saved her from the ravages of Malfoy—an action for which James would surely be punished by the Slytherins for weeks to come—and she yells at him?

"Erm....I hope you feel better," said James awkwardly. "Do you....want me to walk you back to the Tower?" James reddened when he said this, but he didn't falter. "Though I don't think Malfoy will be bothering you again soon," he quickly reassured her. "But nevertheless...."

"I'll be fine," said Lily shortly. She turned and headed off in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. James didn't move. After a couple of steps, Lily stopped and turned around again. "And Potter?" she said, "please don't tell anyone about this....not even a teacher." She sounded pleading.

"But why?" James asked. "Don't you want Malfoy to be punished?"

Lily faltered now, but she answered him nonetheless. "I'm scared that he might get angrier if I tell someone, and hurt me," she said quietly. "But I've been scared before; I can handle that. More than that....I'm ashamed of what happened....of what he did to me....of how weak I am, apparently. I always thought I could fend for myself...." Her voice trailed off and she looked lost, forlorn. It made James' heart hurt.

"Okay," he said simply. "You have my word."

Lily gave him a smile, albeit a weak one—but it was real, and it warmed James' heart. It scared him, because he felt like he would promise her anything in the world if she would smile like that at him—at him alone—again.

"And—thanks for the cloak, Potter," she said finally, before turning and walking swiftly out of sight. James stayed where he was and let out a great sigh. He looked down and saw he was still holding his cloak weakly in his hands, from when Lily had thrown it to him earlier. He held the folds to his face and inhaled deeply; it smelled intoxicatingly of Lily: a vaguely sexy perfume, fresh-smelling shampoo, clean rain, soft skin, a little sweat, a little like the chocolate Madame Pomfrey must have given her. It smelled so comforting and soft and sexy and like Lily....he never wanted to let it go.

In the next chapter....Sirius tells James about his feelings for Lily, and James feels....guilty?

A/N: You reviewers are more beautiful than Johnny Depp. Okay, no, nobody can eclipse his beauty, but you are still my favorite people because J.D. doesn't write me nice notes all the time. I love your input; you keep me writing at my computer even when my eyes are drooping like a bloodhound's. How's that for love? Now go keep up your side of the bargain!