Disclaimer: Maybe in a parallel universe, I would be JK Rowling and own Lily, James, Sirius and Remus. Right now, however, I'm still stuck here trying to find a way to that other universe, and thus can only claim ownershipof the self-created characters Darleen, Gillian and Ruthie. Sigh—take me, please!

This is probably set in Lily and James's seventh year—hey, don't look to me for confirmation, I'm just the writer! It is a version with a twist of how Lily and James might have started dating.

Amortentia

Darleen Forbes twirled a lustrous curl of strawberry-blonde hair around her finger as she studied her own reflection in the mirror. Her soft baby-blue eyes combed every inch and pore of her oval-shaped face, scrutinizing her every feature sharply.

Her hair was pulled back into a perky ponytail consisting mainly of shiny, bouncy curls, with a sweet pink ribbon knotted around it. Two tendrils of her flaxen hair had also been teased gently out to frame the two sides of her impeccably groomed face. She had a porcelain complexion—Heaven forbid if a blemish or any other form of imperfection broke out on her face.

Darleen fluttered her eyelids at her reflection coyly. Her eyes seemed bigger and more expressive than ever, as they should be, considering that she had been applying Madam Fairfaye's Eye-Enlarging Eyedrops for a month now.

She flashed her reflection a winning smile that showed off her pearly white teeth and bee-stung lips.

Satisfied, Darleen uncurled the twirl of hair around her finger and put her hands on her hips. Sucking her breath in, she glanced over once again at her reflection.

She was pleased with what she saw.

She had a nice, slender figure, and enough curves to make any male she desired halt in his tracks and turn his head.

Except for one.

Darleen's eyes narrowed for a nanosecond, but then reverted back to their normally large size as she decided to broach more pleasing thoughts.

"I am absolutely, without a doubt, the epitome of perfection," Darleen purred blatantly to the bathroom mirror, her voice husky and seductive, with a great emphasis on the word 'perfection'. It was a statement, and most definitely not a question.

Behind her, an awed-looking girl with her blonde hair cut in a bob declared in an impressed whisper, "Yes, Darleen, you're perfect. You're so beautiful!"

Darleen looked back at the gushing girl in pity. Gillian Jacobs—the girl who clung to Darleen like a leech (not that she particularly minded, for she liked the attention) and wished with every fibre in her body to be half of what Darleen was. But she'd probably have to give an eye or a limb to even get there, for she was a far cry from her, Darleen thought wryly.

Gillian had weak features, was slightly pudgy, and didn't know in the least how to accentuate her best physical asset, which happened to be her misty-gray eyes.

"You're so beautiful," Gillian repeated breathlessly, her hands clasped tightly together, as if she had just discovered the profound greater meaning of life.

Darleen turned back to her reflection and smirked proudly at it, before an annoying piece of knowledge crept stealthily into her mind. She frowned, and watched her own eyebrows furrow in the mirror. "I'm not beautiful enough for James Potter though."

Gillian, ever the good audience, let out a little gasp. "He's a fool then! Don't worry, Darleen—he's probably just playing hard-to-get. How can any boy possibly not fall head over heels in love with you at first sight?" She asked the question as if it were rhetorical.

Darleen sighed heavily and massaged her now-throbbing temples gingerly. She knew in her heart that this wasn't true. Not at all—it didn't even contain a teeny tiny speck of truth.

Everybody, except for perhaps dense Gillian, knew that James Potter was too caught up with one Lily Evans to even spare another girl a passing glance.

What was so special about Lily Evans anyway?

Granted, she could be considered quite pretty, but still, wasn't she, Darleen, pretty too? What could Lily Evans possibly possess that she, Darleen, didn't? It surely was a mystery to her.

Darleen's expression hardened and she straightened up. Luckily, she had prepared for this.

"I'm tired of waiting, Gillian.

Which is why I went to the most famed apothecary in town last month, purchased the finest ingredients available, and then went to see that renowned potion-maker—you know, Randall Kinskey…" And here she paused dramatically for effect.

Gillian immediately obliged her with an excited squeal—"And? And? Tell me!"—suspense and anticipation written all over her face.

Darleen's lips curled up into a sinister smile before she drawled lazily, for the benefit of Gillian, "What else do you think I did? I naturally demanded that he brew me a good-quality bottle of Amortentia—"

"Amortentia? The most powerful love potion in the world?" Gillian cut her short by gawping incredulously, her mouth now a perfect 'O' shape.

Irked that she had been interrupted, but still satisfied with Gillian's disbelieving gasp, Darleen continued smoothly, "Yes, of course. It just arrived this morning in the mail—you know, that pink silk pouch that was delivered to me by that owl during breakfast. Anyway, I plan to slip it into James's pumpkin juice first thing next morning—what do you think—"

Bang.

Darleen's little speech was unceremoniously cut short once again, this time by the slamming of a toilet cubicle door and a screech that pierced through the still air like a knife—"Forget about it, Forbes!"—much to her irritation.

Whirling around, Darleen found herself almost nose to nose with a fuming auburn-haired, emerald-eyed witch, while Gillian desperately tried to shrink into the background.

Ah.

Lily Evans.

James Potter's favourite girl.

Not anymore.

Despite her being startled, Darleen could not help a complacent smirk from slipping onto her face. Raising an arched eyebrow, she asked delicately, "I beg your pardon?" as if she didn't know what in Merlin's name Lily was talking about.

"Nobody's going to be administering love potion to anybody around here. It's banned in Hogwarts." Lily crossed her arms and leaned back coolly, glaring at Darleen. She stretched her right hand out and twitched her fingers. "Hand it over, Forbes."

Darleen's amusement grew.

Evans—always the law-abiding and rule-adhering prefect, wasn't she? Well, she wasn't going to allow a mere itty bitty little goody-two-shoes thwart the plan that had been brewing and carefully formulating in her head for some time now.

Darleen opened her mouth to say something, but was momentarily distracted by Lily's friend, Ruthie Miller, who had rushed out of her cubicle too to check out the commotion and defend her friend. She now stood loyally by Lily's side, her face taut with displeasure—she had obviously been listening to every word uttered.

What did she have—a whole army of pals hiding in the toilet cubicles?

Darleen's features contorted into an ugly scowl for a split second, before she regained her composure and indifferent tone of voice. "I'm sorry, Evans, but I have absolutely no clue what you're going on about."

"You know better than me what I'm referring to, Forbes." Lily retorted coldly. "I demand that you hand that love potion over to me right this instant."

Darleen had to make every effort to stop herself from laughing out loud.

"I don't have it, Evans. You can search me right here and now if you're inclined to, but you'll just be wasting your time. Not to mention my own valuable time as well." Darleen informed her smugly.

She was safe—she didn't have the potion on her person.

Lily probably realized this too, for her expression dropped quite a bit.

"Besides," Darleen continued, in a drawling tone, "You don't have any shred of real evidence or proof to show that I even have a love potion in my possession. Haven't you ever heard of a love-struck girl speculating fantastically, Evans? I'm sure you must do it all the time."

The results were immediate and great fun to observe.

Lily lost her composure, flushed pink, and sputtered helplessly, "I don't—"

"Are you sure?" Darleen interjected, her tone bordering on sneering.

Lily's cheeks grew redder, and she stood there speechless, not even attempting to reply.

Darleen knew at once that she had touched a nerve.

"Of course you do.

Especially now that James Potter has been ignoring you and practically not even noticing your existence.

He hasn't uttered a single syllable to you, let alone ask you out, all week, has he?" Darleen pressed cruelly on, jeering, for she now knew for a fact that Lily had noticed all this too.

Lily's cheeks practically flamed.

"So? I don't care," she snapped hotly. "It's perfectly wonderful that that prat isn't interested in me anymore."

Darleen didn't utter a word in reply to this; she merely circled Lily with a bemused expression plastered on her face, as if she were some infinitely amusing object.

And then Lily didn't know what on earth possessed her to say such a thing—maybe she was cracking under the immense pressure of Darleen circling her like a vulture which had just spotted fresh road kill—but the words were out of her mouth before she could even attempt to suppress them.

"I can get Potter to go out with me even when he's not interested, anyway. And I wouldn't need the pathetic help of a love potion. In fact, I would do it in the face of your love potion."

Lily's words rang out as clearly and shrilly as a bell, and then hung in the still air, like some clinging shadow that didn't want to leave, to the astonished and incredulous gasps of Ruthie and Gillian.

Lily regretted the words as soon as they flew impulsively out of her mouth—her eyes widened in horror as the full impact of her rashly-uttered words hit her forcefully and sent her mind reeling in shock.

Darleen, fully aware of all of this, showed absolutely no mercy and pounced at once, like a cat which had just cornered a particularly juicy-looking mouse.

"Oh, really? Are you really going to do that, then?" She asked in a sing-song undertone.

There was no backing down now—Lily knew that if she offered only a lame 'No' or a 'I could do it if I wanted to, but I don't want to', Darleen Forbes would surely never let her live it down.

Besides, it would be a great blow to her pride to back down from a challenge she herself had issued. That would teach her mouth never again to set challenges her mind didn't agree with at all.

Only one option to seize now. And, unfortunately, it wasn't a very pleasant one.

"Yeah, I am—what are you going to do about it?" Lily demanded stoutly, raising her chin in defiance.

She felt a tug on her arm and turned her head a little to one side to see Ruthie shoot her a worried look that clearly spelt out 'Are you sure about this, Lily?'. Lily allowed herself a slight grimace and shot her back a significant look that meant 'Don't worry, I know what I'm getting into' even though she knew in her heart that she didn't have the faintest clue.

Darleen's annoying, drawling tones brought her back to the situation at hand. "Well, well, well, Evans, you seem to have more guts than I give you credit for. It's just as well—you'll need them when you thoroughly embarrass yourself in front of James Potter tomorrow morning."

Darleen found herself on the receiving end of a murderous glare from Lily, and her arrogant smirk only grew wider. "If I had a love potion to administer to anybody in particular, I would do it at breakfast, you know."

It was patent that she was phrasing her words carefully so as not to present Lily with any incriminating evidence which she could hand over to the proper authorities.

Then, she added lightly and indifferently as if as an afterthought, "I suppose I could allow you to humiliate yourself just before breakfast ends."

That being said, Darleen gave Lily and Ruthie an airy wave of the hand, as if dismissing them from her company, and strode out of the room, an anxious Gillian scrambling after her in a bid to keep up.

The shutting click of the bathroom door that marked the exit of the duo left a seething Lily and glowering Ruthie in its wake.

"That foul, vile, megalomaniac bi—" Ruthie's angry rant was cut short by the ominous thud of Lily sinking down on her knees to the tiled floor. "Oh my god, Lily, are you alright?"

"How can I be? I've just promised that skank that I'd do something that I'd never in a million years even contemplate doing! Aaargh! How the hell did I get myself into this mess?" Lily was rambling furiously, her hands holding her head in despair.

"It can't be that terrible, Lily—look, just around five hellish minutes and it'll all be over!" Ruthie sank down to the floor beside Lily, attempting desperately to comfort her. She herself couldn't understand why Lily had done what she did, but she had learnt long ago that with Lily, one didn't always need to understand—one just needed to accept.

"Besides, by then, the potion would have taken effect, so Potter will be too busy with Forbes to even care about what you're saying to him!"

These words uttered by Ruthie, though well-meant, struck Lily with a force akin to a hurtling Bludger, and produced an odd churning effect in her stomach.

"Right." she slowly murmured. "And I guess he'll turn me down too because he'll be madly in love with Forbes then.

So, after I've directed him to a Potions teacher and gotten him an antidote of some sort, he'll never have a reason to bother me again because I can very well just tell him that he had gained a chance once, and that he had just been too love-struck with somebody else to take it."

Lily wondered why she wasn't feeling happier about this—in fact, she was experiencing a somewhat sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach now.

Ruthie didn't seem to notice this though, and smiled as widely and brightly as the Chesire cat. "See, Lily—the situation's not so bad. How can it be when one of the plus points is Potter never ever annoying you again for the rest of your life?"

"Yeah… how can it be?" Lily echoed hollowly, as if trying to console herself of the positivism of the fact as she allowed Ruthie to pull her back onto her feet and off the cold bathroom floor.

… … …

"Black, I need a favour." Sirius Black looked up from the essay he was writing on Giants to perceive a brown-haired girl standing right beside him, her sapphire-blue eyes stern and her arms crossed.

"Ruthie, love, what can I do for you?" Sirius grinned up at her cheekily, his brilliant blue eyes twinkling.

Ruthie's eyes couldn't help wandering to his essay distractedly.

"Sirius, 'idiosyncrasies' is spelt with only one 'y'. And Giants are more known to be dour than docile." Ruthie made an exasperated noise as Sirius raised his eyebrows in surprise with a 'Bugger, no wonder it looked weird on paper!' and performed the necessary changes to his essay.

Ruthie waited until he was done before continuing. "Anyway, the favour I need of you involves snogging a reasonably pretty girl with a god-awful personality—should be right up your alley, and not too hard for you, yeah?"

Sirius brightened up instantly. "There, there—her personality isn't so bad."

Ruthie raised her eyebrows quizzically—she hadn't even told him the identity of the girl yet, so what on earth was he going on about?

All was revealed when Sirius latched an arm around her and continued mischievously, waggling his eyebrows for good measure, "You needn't be so hard on yourself, sweetheart—your personality's still okay, though there's always room for improvement.

Now, where do you want me to carry out the favour? I would suggest going off to the most delightfully secluded broom closet which I've uncovered just recently on the third floor, but seeing as how the Common Room is empty now except for the two of us, we could just—Ouch!"

A hard and vicious smack on the arm by Ruthie, as she realized where he was coming from, stopped him short.

"Not me, you git!" Ruthie hissed irritably at Sirius, who was shooting her a reproachful glare and rubbing his arm sorely.

"Now, listen properly to me…"

And Sirius's eyes widened considerably in wonder as Ruthie's ingeniously devilish plan was revealed to him.

… … …

Lily's heart was palpitating so furiously and thumping so loudly in her chest that she wondered that the people milling around her did not seem to hear it.

They were all too busy streaming into the Great Hall in anticipation of breakfast, chatting and laughing away with their little posses of friends.

Lily paused awkwardly just outside the entrance of the Great Hall, causing a few disgruntled fourth-years to walk straight into her and shoot her annoyed glares.

However, her mind was in so much turmoil that she scarcely noticed them.

Come on, Lily, she chided herself in her head. This shouldn't be so hard—we're talking about bloody James Potter here, for crying out loud! What's the worst he can do—reject you?

Isn't that what you're aiming for, anyway?

Lily's heart inexplicably sank a little.

Forget it, she decided. Let's stop mulling over it and just do it! At least it'll be quick then—in and out.

In and out.

With that fresh resolution driving her on, Lily took a deep breath and stepped determinedly into the threshold of the Great Hall.

… … …

James Potter poked grumpily at his bacon with his fork.

He had gotten up on the wrong side of bed today, both figuratively and literally—he had practically fallen out of bed and scraped his knee.

Then, when he had deigned to take a shower, there was, for some inexplicable reason, no more hot water left.

He had tripped over a step while descending from the boys' dormitory to the Common Room, and then gotten stuck on the wrong level for ten minutes because of a stupid moving staircase.

When he had finally arrived at the Great Hall, definitely not unscathed, he had found to his dismay that the eggs were too runny and the bacon too tough today for his liking.

Something (gut instinct, maybe) told him that this was only the beginning of things, and that the day was going to be interesting at best—today was not going to be his day.

James sulkily dropped his fork, resulting in a loud clang as it hit his plate. Several students shot him irritated glares.

"Today is not my day. At all." James growled exasperatedly and took a large, angry swig of his pumpkin juice.

"Temper, temper, Prongs." A sandy-haired boy beside him chided him amusedly.

Remus Lupin only found himself at the receiving end of one of James's particularly venomous glares.

He smirked.

"Withdrawal symptoms already? It's only been a few days, you know."

If looks could kill, Remus would have found himself on the ascend to 'a better place' right then and there, no doubt about it.

"Watch it, Moony." James felt his patience wearing thin on this particularly irksome day, and his tone had a dangerous, warning edge to it.

He turned away from Remus and gulped down more of his pumpkin juice—it seemed to be the only thing on the table that was decent enough for consumption this horrible morning.

Moony was right, though—it had only been a few days.

But then again, it hadn't only beena few days—it had been five unbearably long and torturously drawn-out ones.

As pathetic as James knew it was, he had counted.

And he was now miserably wondering how he had even managed to survive so long—his willpower was by now wavering and he was starting to believe that he would not be able to hold out and stay strong for the next two whole unbearably long and torturously drawn-out days.

James cursed under his breath at the mere thought of the two unbearably long and torturously drawn-out days that stretched cruelly out before him—why, oh why, couldn't there be just a simple five days in a week instead of a ginormous seven?

Damn Padfoot—why'd he even have to make that bet with him in the first place?

It must have been under the influence of that keg of Butterbeer the Marauders had managed to smuggle into the dorm—he knew Padfoot had spiked it with Firewhiskey.

It was all Pafoot's fault.

He had been the one to spike the Butterbeer (James didn't have tangible proof of this, but if it hadn't been Padfoot, who else could it have been? After all, nobody else had his nerve, or lack of sanity) and the one to initiate the bet. The bet that now had him dealing with misery worse than the kind he had felt that time he had had to see that greasy git Snape's face every day for a month because McGonagall had made them carry out their detentions together as punishment for fighting.

Stupid Padfoot.

Surely he had known the immeasurable agony he would soon be putting James through when he had commented casually, after they had both slugged down three (or was it four? Perhaps five, even?) brimful mugs of the spiked Butterbeer, "Hey, Prongs, you're really hung up on Evans, aren't you?"

James remembered hazily running his fingers through his hair and replying non-committally, "I guess so… why?"

Sirius had smirked. "Nothing… it's just that… you're whipped, mate. And over a girl who doesn't look like she'll reciprocate your feelings anytime soon. Who would've thought it of you, Prongs?"

"Hey! I'm not wh-whipped!" James had slurred indignantly, puffing his chest out in a supposed display of his manliness.

"You sure are, mate. I mean, look, you have all those other infatuated females going to great lengths just to be in the same room as you, and you won't settle for anyone less than Evans, who goes to great lengths just to not be in the same room as you. Personally, I think you're being plain crazy. I mean, I myself wouldn't mind getting a little touchy-feely with that new girl on the scene who's nuts about you—what's her name again? Darleen, I think—"

Sirius's pointless ramble had been cut short by James protesting headily, "I could settle for someone other than Evans if I wanted to."

A loud snort from Sirius had ensued. "Right… You couldn't last for a week without feeding her some cheesy line in the hopes that she'll finally agree to go out with you, Prongs."

"Yes I could!" James had retorted, annoyed with the idea of Sirius thinking that he was whipped.

"No you couldn't—in fact, I'll even bet that you can't!

If you manage to keep your side of the bet, though I'm highly doubtful of that, I'll never mention the word 'whipped' to you again, and supply you with 'all-you-can-drink' Butterbeer on any one day of your choice. If you lose, let's just say you'll never hear a sentence from me about you without the word 'whipped' in it, and you'll be the one providing me with the unlimited Butterbeer." Sirius had challenged, a smug grin which James had longed to wipe off plastered on his face.

"Fine! You're on! You'll see—I'll keep to my side of the bet! I may even go seek out that Darlene-person for entertainment!" James had sealed his fate in a drunken tantrum, determined not to let Sirius get the better of him. After all, how hard could it be? It was just a mere seven days of not asking Lily out, it couldn't be that tough—he was only interested in her, not addicted to her.

Or so James had thought, five days before.

Now, five unbearably long and torturously drawn-out days later, James was finding out that he had thought wrong.

He was interested in Lily, hell yeah, and maybe that wasn't enough to sustain an addiction, but love, if that was really what he was in, was an addiction like no other—it seemed to be the ultimate addiction. Damn it, it had to be worse than drugs (though James really wouldn't know, having never taken drugs before)—he was suffering withdrawal symptoms, and achingly painful ones at that, for crying out loud!

He hadn't been kidding the night before when he had groused to Moony (he wasn't going to show any sign of weakness to Padfoot) that his mouth itched to deliver a smooth pick-up line every time he caught a glimpse, no matter how slight it was, of Lily. Maybe in those few days that he had not asked, Lily would have said yes—this bet could be ruining his chances with her forever!

Remus had merely rolled his eyes and told James that he was "being a scarily obsessed and addicted ass".

James groaned into his pumpkin juice. How was he going to survive the remaining two days?

Initially, when the withdrawal symptoms had yet to kick in, he had attempted to hook up with a few other girls. However, even then, they had all paled greatly in comparison to Lily. Not to mention the fact that Sirius's favourite, Darleen-something-or-other, had been sickeningly clingy and needy. Nothing at all like Lily.

James didn't even bother to try to distract himself from thoughts about Lily with other girls now. He knew better—it couldn't be done. He had given up days ago (four days ago, to be precise) and was now just existing in this hellhole he called a life and anticipating the end of two days so that he could finally open his mouth in Lily's presence once again.

James took another swig of his pumpkin juice and raised his eyes heaven-ward.

Strange… he was starting to feel light-headed—maybe Padfoot hadn't learnt his lesson and had spiked his pumpkin juice too? Or maybe it was because of that pleasant floral scent that was wafting into his nostrils… that scent reminded him of—

Plop.

James felt extra weight on his lap out of the blue—something, or more specifically, someone, had decided to make herself comfortable there.

James closed his eyes and groaned inwardly.

It had to be Darleen—would that girl never cease hitting on him? He had already informed her in no uncertain terms that she wasn't his cup of tea, and that she should go seek out Sirius for some fun instead.

James took a deep breath and peeked one eye open, all prepared to see Darleen and tell her to get the hell off of his lap.

He wasn't prepared, however, for what he actually saw—glossy red hair, a porcelain complexion, and a pair of remarkable green eyes staring shyly up at him… in short, Lily Evans.

James found himself gaping at her for a full minute—Lily was the absolute last person on earth that he had ever expected to voluntarily plop herself down on his lap, given her constant cold treatment of him—before he managed to regain what little he could of his composure and ask, astonished, "Lily—not that I particularly mind your current position but— what are you doing?"

Lily merely smiled up at him—he felt his heart melt—and said, "I'm sorry…I just wanted to find out if you were planning on taking anybody with you on next week's trip to Hogsmeade?"

Yeah—you. James gulped and bit back his tongue as he remembered Sirius's bet about no cocky pick-up lines around Lily. One part of him wished desperately for Lily to just go away and let him endure his remaining two days of torture in peace without making it even more agonizing than it already was, yet another part of him told him that maybe it was better this way—after all, how often was it that Lily came around and sat herself down on his lap like she did it every day of the week? And, even if he couldn't say much to her, he could still bask in the glow of her presence and attention, that part of him reasoned.

"James?"

Whoops, he had zoned out—wait a minute, had Lily just addressed him by his first name instead of the regular 'Potter'?

He had to stop being such a 'scarily obsessed and addicted ass', as Moony had put it.

"Err… sorry— I just spaced out for a bit. Erm, no, I'm not taking anybody to Hogsmeade… yet." James couldn't resist adding the last bit in—hey, despite Padfoot's damningly restrictive bet, he had to let Lily know somehow that he wanted to take her!

"Right… well, I was wondering… err… would you mind taking me?"

James stared down at Lily incredulously, scarcely believing his ears—had she really just said what he thought she had just said? His ears couldn't have deceived him too much—Lily was blushing furiously, which, he noted mentally, made her look really cute.

Screw Padfoot. Screw his stupid bet—he certainly wasn't going to pass up this chance of a lifetime because of it! Besides, nothing in their contract had ever stated that he couldn't accept if Lily was the one to initiate a date—he didn't think either of them had ever even thought about that circumstance arising in a million years.

"N-no… I mean, y-yes! That is to say, no, I wouldn't mind taking you, and yes, I would like to take you!" James stumbled over his words, well aware of the fact that the two things he was saying were one and the same, and that he was making a fool out of himself in front of Lily.

A pregnant pause ensued.

James wondered apprehensively if Lily had changed her mind and decided that she didn't want to go out with him after all.

Lily finally broke the awkward silence with a mumbled, "Oh. Right…"

James wondered why Lily was suddenly looking so bewildered.

- - -

"N-no… I mean, y-yes! That is to say, no, I wouldn't mind taking you, and yes, I would like to take you!" James words resonated loudly in Lily's head seconds after he had uttered them.

Wait a minute—wasn't he supposed to refuse her offer? Wasn't he supposed to be so deluded by the administration of Amortentia in his pumpkin juice that he wouldn't even consider her offer properly before going off in search of Darleen?

Just what was happening here?

Not the right thing, apparently.

Seeing James look confusedly down at her, Lily jolted out of her reverie and realized that it was expected of her to give him a reply of some sort.

She settled with mumbling a non-committal "Oh. Right…".

After all, she couldn't refuse him now—she had been the one to ask him out!

Getting over the initial shock of James accepting her offer, Lily took in a deep, shuddering breath and tried to take stock of the situation in a level-headed manner.

She supposed she had no other choice but to visit Hogsmeade with him now.

It would be a disaster, she was sure of it—in fact, she had already begun dreading next week, which was quite a feat, considering they had just set their date minutes ago.

Strangely though, a little gush of joy had also sprung from her heart, together with the dread, at the thought of going on a date with James Potter. This she attributed to the fact that she didn't have to see anyone drool over Darleen (she didn't think she could stand to see even a boy as annoying as James Potter sing that skank's praises—after all, no matter how much of an arrogant toerag James Potter was, even he didn't deserve to be manipulated into salivating over that witch) and nothing else.

There couldn't be anything else.

… Right?

Lily shrugged off that seemingly impossible thought and, in a moment of randomness, suddenly realized that she was still seated on James's lap.

Whoops.

In one swift move, she had jumped off his lap and was staring down at him, flustered, wondering what on earth to do with the situation now.

Her thoughts were thankfully cut short by the noisy entrance of Sirius and… Darleen into the Great Hall.

Lily stared wide-eyed at them—wasn't Darleen supposed to already be somewhere in the Great Hall? And why did she look so terribly disheveled?

Lily saw Darleen suddenly notice her by James's side and start up. Darleen threw her a horrified glanceand attempted to rush to James's side too, or, more specifically, his goblet of pumpkin juice.

Only, Sirius halted her by grabbing her arm and cooing, "What's the hurry, love? Why don't we do some more of what we were doing in that broom closet for the past half-hour?"

As Darleen turned back to Sirius frustratedly and tried to jerk her arm from his grasp, it was then that Lily saw it.

An as-of-yet-uncorked vial of sparkling liquid that Lily recognized as Amortentia protruding out from Darleen's pocket.

It explained everything.

Realization hit Lily, and she didn't know why, but she felt indescribable happiness and relief wash over her. She couldn't help a triumphant grin from slipping onto her face too.

Turning back towards James, Lily grabbed his goblet of pumpkin juice and drained it. Then, she smiled enigmatically at him and warned, "I wouldn't drink anything Darleen Forbes offers me if I were you", adding softly and rather shyly afterward, "I'll see you next week."

Lily then turned and strode cheerily out of the Great Hall, leaving an extremely befuddled, albeit grinning, James Potter behind her.

wRiter's Ramblings:

A plot bunny attacked,

and the wRiter had little choice but to pound out this story.

For it, her brains she racked,

so please don't write your reviews too gory!

Haha, please do review—just think of it as a belated Christmas gift and an early New Year's one:)

Thank you! Much love from me :)