Disclaimer: I own nothing except for the plot. (There's a plot?)

Cat and Mouse: The Chase
By Ela-chan

Exactly who's the cat, and who's the mouse?

Chapter Three

Roses and Pungent Odours

I made to get up and race to my bedroom, but a gentle touch on my forearm stopped me. I looked back and saw James, with a serious expression on his face, gazing at me with those cursed hazel eyes. I sat down reluctantly, sighing an oh-so-tired sigh. This better be good. I want to have a long date with my pillow.

'What now, Potter?' I said, resigned, placing my elbows on the table. 'If you're going to ask me here, I'm going to bang my silver platter across your forehead.'

James shrugged indifferently.

'Wouldn't be new to me,' he said quietly, touching the nape of his neck. He shot me a furtive look, almost as though hoping I would apologise. Seeing me reply with a glare, however, seemed not to be the gesture he expected.

'Mind coming out in the gardens with me for a little while?'

I gave him a look. He widened his eyes and stuck out his lower lip. Curse him. I started to play around with the fork and spoon that were placed randomly on the table in front of me, purposely stalling.

'Please?'

Bloody hell. I looked at his face again. And laughed. I smiled despite myself.

'All right,' I agreed reluctantly, sighing and getting up.

This is once in a life time thing for him, you know. He better not screw it up for himself. I bet he'll end up making me hate him more than I despise him right now, anyway.

'Only for a little while, though. I don't want mutated moths eating at my eyes.'

James chuckled, getting up swiftly to pull my chair from under me as I stood. Whatever, mister I-think-I-have-manners-to-win-over-the-girl-but-can't-because-she-hates-your-guts. I still can't believe the guy won't face up to the facts.

I. Don't. Like. The. Bastard.

I stood straight and gave James another one of my death glares. He grinned and bowed dramatically. He knew what my scowl meant. He knows that if he makes any kind of wrong move, he'd be screaming uncle the second after he committed it. I rolled my eyes and walked ahead.

Opening the door, a blast of wind caught me and blew at my hair menacingly. I shivered and wrapped my arms around me, just as a long coat appeared at the corner of my eye. Facing James, I raised an eyebrow.

He shrugged, and brandished his coat.

'You look like you'll need it out there more than I will.' He brandished the black, leather coat at me again.

I had no choice but to take it. It was cold, anyway. Might as well make himself useful. I wrapped it around myself and braved the cold wind outside. We walked in silence to the most spacey part of the garden. The flowers around us were resting peacefully, patiently waiting for the rays of the sun to awaken them at the chill of early dawn.

James had his hands jammed in his pockets, looking at the ground, the most thoughtful expression on his face. The wind lashed at his hair, making it more typhoon-tormented than it already was. And, here was me, wrapped in his jacket, all nice and warm, watching the Royal Jackass think. My hair was tucked under the jacket. Thank God. I don't want it to blow off my head. The wind was that strong, seriously.

I hate him.

Hey, even though I'm spending some rare alone time with him, I still loathe the guy. I never thought this would happen in my Life. But it is, so, I'll just float along the stream, hoping it'll lead me to good grounds and not drown me. Or hope James would behave. If not, he better watch his crotch, 'cause I'll be kickin' 'round like a football player, mate.

We walked in stifling silence for a few minutes, with me staring openly at the silver moon. It was almost full and at its peak of sinister eerie-ness and bountiful beauty. The velvet black sky was clear, with the occasional soft dab from an imaginary paint-brush of grey clouds floating by every now and then. The trees were swaying to the fast rhythm of the howling wind, crying for mercy as they were beaten to and fro. A dog barked in the distance. A curse of a man followed. The air felt fresh and raw.

We entered the last flower arch of the garden. Various sparkling insects were roaming about, probably looking around for a munch or a kill. We were in the most secluded place in the whole of our Manor.

Hmm.

I looked at James. He seemed so secretive.

I rolled my eyes. Wonder what the hell we're doing here.

Approaching one of the pale violet benches, James walked a little swiftly ahead and got there first. He bent, sending strands of his black hair cascading over his hazel depths, and dusted a part of it off, making sure it was spotless enough for the Queen herself. He then reached into his pocket. For a moment there, as I stopped a few feet from him to see what he was up to, I thought he was going to shoot me or something.

But no.

Amazingly, he pulled out two rain patterned flowers.

A Red Rose. And a White Lily.

He looked to me momentarily and gave a gentle smile, as if searching, in my features, an etched approval for him to continue whatever the hell he was doing. I found myself returning the gesture – then cursing myself seconds afterwards. Watching, with my eyes practically shining with marvel, I nodded my head slowly.

All out tonight, he is.

One by one, he carefully plucked each magnificent petal from the rose. Each pull was gentle. Each petal was placed lovingly and randomly on the bench, forming what looked to be a heart. Holy Lord. This guy really is something.

After he accomplished the perfect heart he was after, he looked over it and sighed. Was that a hopeful sigh? Or a Now-I'm-going-to-put-everything-on-the-line sigh? Or an I-hope-I-don't-make-an-arse-out-of-myself sigh? I didn't have time to think. He was walking towards me. His eyes locked with mine. I couldn't look away. He had me transfixed and extremely curious.

In a bad way, though.

Definitely bad.

'May I?' he whispered softy, stopping only about half a dozen inches from my face. My mouth was slightly open and my eyes a dark emerald green. The breaths I was exhaling froze slightly in the chilly air, floating between our much too close faces.

In his right hand, the lily was gently gripped.

'May you what?' I responded, squinting my eyes ever so slightly. A flicker of emotion ran over his face. I never quite caught what it was. He smiled and came ever so closer. I couldn't move. I wanted to move. I wanted to bolt, run away, hide. But I couldn't. I couldn't wrench away from his gaze, from his smell, from him.

Idiot Bastard.

He raised the hand which held the Lily. I felt the flawless stem of the small flower slide down the back of my ear.

He was placing it amidst my hair.

My breath seemed to be caught in my throat as his stare intensified to the extremes. If I was looking at him like that, I bet he'd piss himself. A dull buzzing was growing in the back of my mind, spiralling and nearly shouting. I closed my eyes slowly, hoping his intoxicating smell would go away.

No such luck.

I wrenched my eyes open.

Those eyes never budged from the zealous stare he was piercing into me. It was starting to make me quiver. A few moments passed after the lily had been placed perfectly into my hair. He left his arm fall slowly to his side. Once again, a flicker of feeling bolted across his features. And, yet again, I did not catch what it was. Damn him. The hatred I had especially for him intensified, yet it softened and calmed. I don't like this. Not at all.

'James?' I asked, my voice a weak whisper, carried away by the strong arms of the howling wind.

'W-what –?'

I faltered as I saw him shake his head slowly, his eyes averted to the ground. A small serene smile played on his lips. I growled inwardly. This guy is so insufferable. What the hell – who the hell – why the hell –

'Sit?' he inquired, patting the bench gently and giving me a questioning glance.

His expression was that of a tiny five year old requesting a barrel of forbidden ginger ale. Hah. Priceless. I walked up to him and inclined my head sarcastically. Don't ask me why. The bitterness I had for him still existed within me. Not my fault he's been an arse for the passed four or so years.

Making sure I didn't ruin the pretty heart thing James composed, I carefully sat and wiggled to make myself comfortable. The jacket certainly was very warm. James sat on the other side of the bench cautiously, making sure there was plenty of space between us. He has learned well. I could see form the corner of my eye that he was looking at his fingers, a curious expression on his jaw and forehead.

Odd be thy name of James Harry Potter.

We sat in silence for a long while, with James now wringing his hands nervously and with me blowing at the lone strands of hair floating in my face for amusement. A lady beetle landed on my finger randomly, causing me to knit my eyebrows and frown slightly. I brought it up to me eyes and squinted. Bringing my other index finger to squish it senseless or playfully pat it, I don't know which I want to do, I suppressed a giggle. Finger was up and nearing bug. Nearing, nearing – almost there –

'Lily?'

It flew away.

Curse you, James Potter.

I grunted.

'Will you go out with me?'

I gritted my teeth. There it was. Should have known the arsehole would get right to the point. Good thing I bought none of this bullshit he pulled. I swivelled my head quickly and glared at him, causing the guy to gulp and loosen his collar quite nervously.

Good. Got him scared. Serves the jackass right, don't it? Hell yeah. I hate him.

'I mean –'

'Stow it, Potter,' I snarled, getting up and letting the jacket slip off. 'Should have known.'

I cared not that the sudden gust of wind the jacket created had ruined the heart he had made especially for me. I didn't care that the usual annoyance that surfaced whenever he asked that question boiled. I began walking away, my pace quickening to a trot, to a run, to an all out sprint.

The conceited, ugly, son of a –

'Lily, wait!'

I didn't bother turning around.

Still in a sprint, I smirked contently as I heard Potter swear colourfully. The bastard. Did he think he could buy me that easily? I mean, honestly. Did he expect me to degrade myself like those other girls he flirts with at Hogwarts?

Oh, Jamesie! Whisk me away to an everlasting cloud and snog me senseless forever!

Psh. Yeah sodding right. Not in a million years would that happen to me. Not in a million years would Lillian J. Evans fall for James wanking Potter, A.K.A 'Bloody gay arse King of Hogwarts.'

It's just not going to happen, all right? Now, all I've got to do is get that little oh-so hard to understand fact into that thick, thick, thick skull belonging to the cause of all this. That guy belongs in hell. He's the gift from the very King of the fires himself.

Please, take him back, Mister Satan Sir, he's causing too much trouble for everyone, for Hogwarts – he'll catapult Dumbledore into an early grave at the rate those sodding Marauders are going. And, better yet, he's causing too much trouble for me.

By the time I had the security to look over my shoulder and not see Sir Prance-About breathing down my neck, I stopped and leant against one of the many benches scattered across the Evans property, slightly out of breath. A sigh escaped my lips, turning into frozen fog only inches from my mouth. That Potter – ugh. For a minute there, I thought the arse had dropped that attitude I hate so much. For a moment, I thought we would actually have exchanged words beyond the usual 'Kiss my arse, Potter!' and 'I'll do more than that, Evans!' scenario.

Peh.

Guess my expectations were too high.

But, honestly, the things I expect from him could be fulfilled by my three month old cousin, and the little thing still gurgled and licks his crib.

Potter had to ruin my little ray of hope for him that he might not have been one of the shallow people at Hogwarts who go for exterior instead of interior. Nope. He's one of them. The 'Oh, look, there's an eye candy. She's my shag tonight' young men who have that on their mind every sodding moment of their lives. Awake, asleep and half dead.

He's one of them.

And his wanking friends aren't so far behind, either.

I brought the loose wristwatch close to my eyes, cursing the darkness now engulfing my surroundings. I couldn't see the time. Crap. Squinting now, I could only just make it out.

10:30.

I swore loudly, and rather colourfully at that. My eyes did an immediate once over of what was around me, dully hoping Mother was not around to hear that. Phew. Good. I'd get pummelled if she heard my saying those 'demon sent words too lowly for the likes of Evans lips, my daughter!'

Yeah. Whatever.

Like I said, I never listen to what she says most of the time. 'Lillian Evans!' – She hates saying "Lillian J." – 'Get your mind out of the clouds and listen to me!'

Or something like that.

Walking inside, I could still hear the laughing – fake laughter, mind – coming from the sitting room. The laughter was high and low, so I can safely jump to the conclusion that Father and Potter Senior have joined the simpering dogs – I meant Mother and Potter's wife. Maybe I could escape to my room and just hide there so James can't –

'Lily!'

I groaned, hand on doorknob and back to the panting male bitch.

'Lily – listen – back there – I didn't mean to –'

The breathe-slowly-and-count-to-ten-thing Geneva – good friend from Hoggy Warty – taught me a few months ago to control my temper did not do jack right then. I couldn't keep my temper under wraps. I swivelled, my locks swishing and eyes terribly violent, fists clenched and ready to make contact with his jaw and / or nose.

'Look, Potter,' I spat the word out in an uncanny expression of my Mother when she's talking to me. 'Go back to your hole. Get out of my face. Leave me alone, here and at Hogwarts or wherever and whenever you see me. If you come near me again, I'm going to do more than smash your face in.'

By the time I finished, my breathing was ragged and deep. I could see James's eyes flicker, his jaw tightening and brow creasing.

Yep. He was confused. Dumbass.

'In other words, nark off.'

With that, I swung open the door and ran upstairs, not bothering to keep the noise down, and left him out in the cold, staring at the ground with an almost heart-broken expression.

Ha. Almost felt sorry for the guy.

Almost.

I didn't come out of my room the rest of the night. Laughing could still be heard around the stroke of midnight. I rolled my eyes countless times.

Lesson of the day: James Potter is a pompous, arrogant, no good, conceited nark-head who deserves to be castrated, stuffed and hurled over the Astronomy Tower by yours truly.

Yep. What will it take for the guy to own up that his ego is bigger than his head? Urgh. I tried giving him the hint last year by saying in front of a whole group of students that I'd rather date the Giant Squid over him. Got a real laugh out of that one, I did. So did a few others, as a matter of fact.

But guess what?

Nothing will penetrate that thick skull of his.

Only Transfiguration, Pranks and the concept of bimbos go through his tiny mind.

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