Author's Notes: I'm so sorry this took so long! My computer had a virus, and I couldn't reach the document for ages—luckily, it didn't die, but I haven't been able to work on it. Thank you all again so much! And I did make an lj for updating and reviews—it's linked as my homepage. Hope you like this next chapter!


"That was good," James commented as he dropped lazily onto the plush sofa. "Really good. You're doing a lot better than two weeks ago—I think I'll start practicing with you tomorrow."

Lily fell onto the couch beside him, sighing. She huffily blew away a riotous red curl, not having the energy to redo what had become a sloppy ponytail. "I'm tired."

He chuckled amiably, "You should be. You finished off the last of the pixies—and all in one go."

"Mhmm." James could see that she was practically falling asleep as she sat. A little more than a week after their first successful practice, and he was amazed at the progress she had made. Lily had gone from freezing at the sight of a moving object to being fully capable of hexing them thoroughly, without the use of a blindfold. Of course, she could do it with the scarf over her eyes as well, which was the thing James found most impressing. He wasn't altogether sure that he could do that.

"Wake up, sleepyhead," he murmured, nudging her with his elbow. In reply, Lily simply allowed her eyelids to shutter closed and promptly dropped her cheek onto his shoulder.

"I'm tired."

"Yes, you said that already." He draped his arm loosely around her waist, drawing his Head Girl closer so that she might be more comfortable. They had become close friends in the past several days, and he was inwardly shocked that he had never really noticed her before. She was an amazing sort of person to be around, and he had fallen into the familiarity of friendship with a natural, cheerful ease.

Placing a light, companionable kiss on the top of her frizzy hair, he asked, "Has Dolohov talked to you lately?"

"No." Lily's reply was worn and edged with the tint of slumber; she was going to fall asleep soon, unless he had something to occupy her with. "He stares at me in class, and he does that leering thing a lot. But mostly, the only time he can talk to me is before or after something, and you're always there when that happens." She paused. "Thanks again."

"Don't worry about it," he stated simply, and meant it. He liked spending time with her, especially now that the inane gossip had begun to quiet. "What about yesterday, when break started? He didn't try to talk to you then, did he?"

"Huh uh," her voice was quieter now, and he had to lean his head slightly to hear it. Her eyes fluttered open, and emerald gazed sweetly up at him, "Only that one time, and you came then, too." A pause, a glance down, and before her eyes returned to his line of vision. "I really mean it—thank you. I don't know what I'd've done otherwise."

He was transfixed. For the first time in a long time, James found himself lost for words, as he stared down into the deepest pools of jade he'd ever seen. It was as if his awareness of Lily—her face on his shoulder, her waist at his hand, the brush of her hair against his neck—was suddenly increased tenfold. It was only when she broke eye contact, glancing away shyly, that he managed to unstick his tongue from his throat. "I already said don't worry about it."

"I know." Lily drew away from him, lifting her head and standing slowly. Her arms stretched lazily into the air, and she yawned while climbing to the tip of her toes. "We should go back."

"Yea." He was still a little confused. Whatever had happened just then, he wasn't sure he liked it. It made him feel blank, as if he was the one who had lost his mind in the face of danger. It wasn't an emotion that made him feel comfortable, and though James wouldn't have classified it under 'bad,' he might have called it 'distinctly unsettling.'

He stood beside her, stretching a bit himself. "I'm off to Quidditch practice anyway. Tomorrow at seven?"

"See you then," Lily commented lightly, and smiled. Again, there was the twisting of his stomach, and the idea that suddenly drifted cunningly into his mind. Her smile is beautiful.


James ambled through the corridors, having just returned from a rather ferocious snowball fight with Sirius. His cloak was drenched, but luckily he had had the sense to perform a protective drying spell on the rest of his clothes, and only needed to remove the stuffy thing to get dry.

Dragging the black garment from is shoulder, he collided into yet another wanderer, and made to apologize before realizing it was none other than Lily Evans—and that she was probably headed to their practice as well.

"Fancy seeing you here," James grinned.

She smiled warmly back, teasing him with her tone, "Drat. And I was planning on skipping lesson for once—my teacher is such a bore."

He swatted her arm playfully, before grabbing her elbow and beginning to drag her down the corridor. "Not so fast, young lady. Don't you know that school is only—"

"—for your benefit in gaining a successful and rewarding career, blah blah blah. That speech is the only thing I hate about Defense. Burns gives it every year, every semester, and it drives me crazy." She rolled her eyes, the action making her seem somehow both childish and annoyed at once.

"Yea, me too," James replied, releasing her from his hold though they continued in the direction of the Room of Requirement. "That class is so pointless this year though. I mean, most of the stuff we're learning is just theory. And while dark magic—especially this advanced stuff—is kind of creepy, we're never going to learn anything unless we practice it."

"I know! I mean, honestly, it's not as if we're three or—"

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Potter and Evans having a nice friendly chat." Dolohov had rounded the corner just ahead of him, and the pair found themselves stopped dead in their tracks as he languidly blocked the way through the narrow holiday. "How pleasant."

"Sod off, Dolohov," James commented sharply as he stepped automatically closer to Lily. His shoulder brushing her shoulder, he could literally feel her shaking. Practice or no, she was still no closer to beating her fear of the Slytherin.

"Actually, I had a question for Lily here." James growled at the mention of her name, vehement in the idea that he did not have the right to call Lily by her first name, but Antonin did not give him the chance to bite back. "See, I was thinking that, since you really don't seem to know much in Burns class, that maybe I could," he took a deliberate pausing, argent eyes stroking her figure sadistically, "teach you a bit about the… Arts."

Now James stalked forward, moving furiously in front of Lily. "In case you didn't understand the first time, Dolohov, hands off. She's mine." Even he was surprised at the venom that laced his words. For a moment, James suspected that he might have actually meant the phrase that just spilled from his lips, but thrust the thought quickly aside. He and Lily were friends only, and though the world believed they were dating, they both knew that to be untrue. And wanted it that way.

"Is she, Potter?" Now Dolohov was smirking, his glance traveling slyly to the object of his interest. "Because I'm really beginning to think that this whole thing is fake. I haven't even seen you kiss her, Potter—and normally you're girlfriends are practically giving you head at the breakfast table."

It took every inch of his self control not to punch the bloody beast straight in the nose, but James had not learned nothing in his life. The best way to prove a point was neither to fight nor try with words—an argument only lent to their amusement and speech rarely convinced anyone. The only way to prove something was to do it.

More rapidly than James knew how to think, he was half turning where he stood. One palm flying to cup Lily's cheek and willing her with a glance to just go along with this mess, he saw only her startled green eyes before he shoved his lips upon hers.

It was not a fairy tale kiss. It was filled with rage and irritation and factuality, and there was no sweetness to it all. A brief, hard crush of mouth against mouth, with James noting only momentarily that her lips were infinitely soft, before he was drawing back to face Dolohov.

"Satisfied?"

The Slytherin scowled, glancing at James's blazing eyes and Lily's blushing cheeks only momentarily before nodding and sauntering off down the corridor. The minute he was gone, Lily fled, and James was left to chase after her.

"Lily! Lily, hold up a second! Listen, I didn't—I'm sorry—I didn't mean to but there was nothing else—"

They both tore through an archway, finding themselves in an unknown room. It was small, nearly windowless, and the only block of light shimmered from the tiny, open frame of a ragged hole—indeed, James wasn't even sure as to whether it was a window or simply a hole.

She had thrown herself down on the plum colored couch, her face hidden behind her hands. Halting once he entered the chill room, James glanced anxiously down at her while he edged towards where she sat.

"Lily." There was no response. "Lily, c'mon, look at me." Still, she stared into her hands, and he couldn't tell whether she was crying or simply shaking. "Look, Lily, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—to take advantage of you like that. I just didn't know what else to do."

Her fingers dropped from her face, and the startling clarity of her emerald gaze clashed defiantly with the violet of the couch. "You didn't have to do that."

He sighed, settling Indian style on the floor a few feet from her feet, leaning against an ancient wooden table. "I know. But, I mean, what else was I going to do? He can't find out—if he did, he'd never give you up. Dolohov doesn't understand the idea of friends being protected by other friends."

For some reason, this statement only served to infuriate Lily more, and she glared ferociously down at him. "Don't you care?" She demanded angrily.

James was confused. Did he care that the bastard wanted to hurt her? Yes. Did he care that she was upset? Yes. But he thought that was obvious. "What do you mean?"

She tossed her hands into the air, staring up at the ceiling as though searching for an answer. Still befuddled, James persisted in his questioning. "What?"

Lily only shook her head, but when she stood and moved towards the doorway, he called out a final time. Turning as his question was repeated, she only frowned down at him, commanding quietly, "Open your eyes, James."


He had not been able to fall asleep. Her words were in his mind constantly, drifting and spinning and twisting until he was even more confused than he had been in the beginning. She had told him to open his eyes, and now he couldn't close them

Lily hadn't come to practice today. Indeed, he hadn't seen her at all. Upon inquiry, he had only gotten a glare from her friends, and it wasn't as if he could ask the teachers why she hadn't been in class—since, obviously, there was no class. And so now, for the second night in a row, he was lying in his bed silently, studying the crimson curtain above his head.

James still wasn't sure what she had meant. What he was sure of, however, was that he wasn't going to let her avoid him much longer. For some reason, he already missed her beyond compare, and he there was no way that he was letting her avoid him all break or something similarly foolish.

The rest of the night was spent tossing and turning. On occasion, he slept, but never for very long, and always with dreams of blazing green eyes and drifting red hair. He awoke exhausted, muddled, and achy. But he awoke determined.

James checked her room first. In any other case, he might have simply used the map, but Peter had mistakenly taken it home over break. The discovery that she was not in her bed, even so early in the morning, worried him. The image of Dolohov played viciously into his brain, taunting him in a malicious attempt to frighten him. Him taunting Lily, torturing Lily, drawing Lily closer and closer and...

James shuddered in horror. No, that wasn't going to happen. He wasn't going to let it happen. Ever.

She wasn't in the Room of Requirement either. Or the Great Hall. Or the Astronomy tower. Or any of the normal classrooms. Or the Quidditch pitch. Indeed, he was nearly struck by the urge to barge into the Slytherin common room and demand to know what Antonin had done with her, when the notion struck to attempt to find the arched room from the night of their quarrel.

He wasn't altogether sure where it was, but James soon set to combing the area it could have inhabited. Room after room, locked door after locked door, he set ponderously upon the section of corridor. He had done this enough times, scavenging for a half-remembered room, to be systematic about it. It was all a matter of touching on every centimeter of possibility, even if it meant walking in circles and shouting random words.

And then he had it. A sharp turn, and image in the mind, and the way was there. As was Lily.

She looked up when he entered. Her scarlet hair had been drifting over the pages of a worn, thin book, her quill hovering above it, but now they were both set aside. She had expected him, at some point in time. He wasn't sure whether that was good or bad.

"Lily—" he began, but the word was cut off by her reassuringly crisp words.

"I'm sorry for running off, James. And for not showing up to lesson yesterday. I was just… surprised. And a little bit afraid as well. I don't—I just wasn't expecting that. I know it was the reasonable thing to do, and I want to thank you for having a clear head. The way you made such an emotionless decision so quickly was... enlightening." For some reason, he didn't think the last phrase was intended to be praise. Her voice had been cool, planned out, but the last line was edged with derision. For what, he was not entirely sure, but it was just another aspect of his Lily to ponder later.

"I don't want to hurt you, Lily." It was the first thing out of his mouth and, judging by the exasperated expression that flashed through her eyes, it was not satisfactory. He wasovercome by the urge to take two steps forward and rid her face of that look, but the ways in which he planned to do that were not appropriate for a friendly relationship. James wasn't even sure why the idea was flashing through his head. "You're my… my friend, so I don't want to do anything but make you happy. I shouldn't have kissed you, and I can't apologize enough, but…" But what? But could he try it again? No, no, that wasn't the words that were supposed to come out. She wouldn't like that very much, and again, where was this coming from? "But I can't take it back now. Am I forgiven?"

She smiled tightly, though he could tell there remained something that was upsetting her about the situation. "How could I not forgive a friend?"

He grinned, pulling her from the sofa and wrapping her in a tight hug. "Don't you ever fight with me again, love," James whispered fiercely into her ear. "You drove me crazy."

He drew back, holding her shoulders at arms length before him, grinning. Her eyes were still haunted, and the smile she attempted was shallow, but all that mattered at that moment was that they were friends again. Thank Merlin.

"C'mon—you missed yesterday, so we're going to have to worktwice ashard today." And with that, he was swinging his arm casually around her shoulders and leading her jovially off to lesson. Things were right now. They were as they should be. Friends, no more and no less, and that was what he wanted.

Wasn't it?


Two more chapters to go-o. And I'm sorry for this one being so lame--I'm tired.