Nov 12 or 13, 2005

(If you've been wondering, I put the update date on the beginning of every chapter because I, at least, think it's convenient to know when a story I read has been updated and how often the author usually updates. I wish would do that, but all they put is the last update date and the date published.)

A/N:

Wow, I have to say I'm elated at the responses I've gotten for this fic. None of my stories have ever been this successful. I almost squealed in happiness. I love you guys, I really do. I'm also glad to see some of the people that reviewed my other stories review this one.

ms mary goodnight—Of course there's more, eleven chapter's worth!

Dead-Luthien—I have seen that movie. It's quite good. And that's a great idea, I was thinking something along the same lines. I shall probably use it for the next chapter. …Oops. I shouldn't have said that.

And thank you to everyone else who reviewed.

I was going to alternate between Soul's Rhapsody and this one, really I was, but you guys have made it hard not to want to continue this one first. Shame.

So here it is, after a huge case of writer's block:

--- --- ---

Chapter 2—The Purple House Elves

As if the French Maid's uniform wasn't bad enough. One minute I'm helping poor Peter Pettigrew off a chandelier and the next, I find myself holding a pair of Potter's Underwear. What have I become?

Oh well. I suppose it could be worse. I suppose I should be thankful that at least he didn't wrap himself up and show up on my doorstep dressed in a bikini or something. That would've been bad. And at least the boxers were clean.

It was snowing outside, and so everybody that had opted to stay at Hogwarts for the holidays—and that included James and his friends, unfortunately—were inside the castle playing chess, reading, or, in a certain chubby blond haired boy's case, hanging from his underpants off of a chandelier on the third floor.

As I stood there, looking up at him, I wondered, amidst his cries of "Lily! Help me! I promise I'll never go through your diary again!" how the hell he got up there in the first place. I mean, you would think, after having gone through the horrid ordeal a dozen times already, that he would be more careful around suspended lights.

I don't even have a diary. I learned a long time ago—the hard way, mind you—that Hogwarts is a dangerous place to keep one.

I had to admit, though, that Potter was very insightful. He'd yesterday said that Pettigrew was probably hanging off a chandelier somewhere, and here he was. I would go tell him just how insightful he is, except that I'm not talking to him. I'm afraid that if I do, I'll lose my temper and curse him or something. And we all know how bad that could be. I still wanna see him in his boxers. The ones with the little purple house elves.

So here I am, trying not to stare at Peter's grayish underwear, wondering how I'm supposed to get him down.

You know what would be funny? If I just cast a spell that just severed his undergarments where they were caught. Then I could just run away and say that statue of armor did it.

Hey, it's not entirely unbelievable. Statues of armor are very suspicious, if you ask me. I mean, who knows? Maybe they actually get up and walk around when no one's looking? Can't pin this one on me.

Then I stopped myself. You're head girl Lily, I chided myself, get a grip.

I had just pulled out my wand to help Pettigrew down when none other than Narcissa Black walked by, her signature dark robes swishing most becomingly around her.

"Hello, Mudblood," she drawled as soon as she spotted me, her painted lips drawn up into a cruel smile.

Narcissa is one person I just cannot stand. She's above even Potter and Black on my hate list. Admittingly, she's never shown up on my doorstep in a French Maid's outfit, but that's besides the point.

Not that what Potter did last night wasn't bad. I still have the image of his 'bosom' stuck in my mind. Damn it. Maybe I just need some more sleep.

"What are you doing here, Evans?" Narcissa continued, still smiling coldly, "Don't tell me not even your family wants you home." Then she looked up and saw Pettigrew, who had grown silent at her arrival. She gave a ridiculous airy little laugh. "I didn't know you had a thing for Pettigrew"

Oh. That was funny. Yes it was. I'll just go and suck on my toes now.

Damn it. I really should stop trying to be sarcastic. It's not working.

I made an attempt to clear my head. "Bugger off, Black," I spat at her, mentally going through a list of the things I could do to her. Hang her off of a chandelier, for one.

"Oh don't let me stop you guys from doing what you were about to. I'm happy for you, really I am. You're just too cute together." She gave me one last sneer and strided off, to look for her no good boyfriend, no doubt.

I sighed, aimed my wand at Pettigrew, and executed a neat spell, severing his underpants and freeing him from his predicament.

Unfortunately, during my little 'spat' with Narcissa, I had unwittingly placed myself directly beneath the chandelier. Oh crap.

As I lay there beneath Pettigrew, trying to catch my breath and to hurl him off me, I absently wondered where Potter was, and what he would say if he saw us like this. What if he thought there was something between us? Because there certainly wasn't.

Never mind. To hell with what Potter thinks. Let's focus on trying to get Peter off first. He's surprisingly heavy, for someone so short. Damn it. I know his falling on me broke a rib. I just know it. I hope it's not one on my right. That's my good side.

Now, James, on the other hand, would be considerably lighter. If it had been him hanging off the ceiling and him laying on me now…

Oh no. Not again. Damn it. I heaved Pettigrew off me, brushed myself off, and left, ignoring his grateful wails.

Right. Now I was in a bad mood. I stomped down the stairs, through the entrance hall, and out of the gates, plopping myself down on the steps to brood.

It's then that I noticed how cold it is outside. Damn it. I really should think about what I'm doing before I do it. Now not only is the cold making it impossible to plot Potter's death, but it's also freezing me slowly to death.

Did I mention how much I hate Christmas? Because I do. To hell with mistletoe and presents and love. Bah humbug indeed.

Maybe I'll go down to Hagrid's. He's got a new recipe for what he calls rock cakes, he'd said. I bet they're delicious. Yeah, that's what I'll do. I'll go visit Hagrid.

I didn't move.

…And we can chat by his fire.

I watched as a barn owl flew by.

…And have crumpets and tea.

I listened to the distant sound of hooves.

And…Dammit Lily, move your feet!

There I was, all but frozen in place on the steps of the great hall, slowly loosing the feeling in my fingers and toes. What a way to spend the second day of break, eh? I tried to gain enough control of my muscles to turn around and peer into one of the large windows to the Great Hall. Dinner was probably over by now. Maybe I should go in.

Or maybe I should just sit out here and freeze to death for ever thinking about James in an unchaste manner…not that I ever have. I don't care how good his legs look in fish nets. He's still an arrogant, big headed, insensitive, ungrateful, incompetent…

Wow, this is quite fun. I could do this for ages. To hell with the cold. I was having a better time than Lucius Malfoy around hair care products. And that was saying something.

As I sat there happily abusing Potter, the very same barn owl that had flown by earlier swooped down suddenly and dropped what must've been a five ton package on my head.

I jumped up. Holy mother of baked ham! This is a conspiracy! Suddenly that owl didn't look so cute and cuddly. It's all his fault! We should really consider using something else for mail delivery.

I rubbed my head and looked to my right; on the ground lay a small brown package tied with string. It was much bigger a moment ago, I swear! Someone must've leaned out of a window and casted a shrinking charm on it. I craned my neck backwards to check for the culprit, but saw no one. Crud.

I then turned to the parcel in question, examining it and carefully unwrapping it to reveal a piece of parchment.

Wow. I snorted in disgust. Who the hell packages a piece of parchment?

I unfolded the paper and spotted the signature.

Yours, to have and to hold, till death do we part,

Jamesiepoo

Oh. Well, that explains it. I read the next line:

Peeves is on the second floor causing trouble. In the Entrance hall is a painting of a witch in crimson. Tell her James sent you.

Wait, what? I shook my head, thoroughly confused. This is what I get for trying to read a letter backwards. Maybe I should just go live with the centaurs now. I really am losing it. Someone call an ambulance and get me to St. Mungo's insanity ward. I hear they give their patients chocolate pudding.

Exhaling, I started at the beginning.

Lily,

Stop sitting on the steps and freezing to death. It's not good for your complexion. If you really want to commit suicide I'd suggest jumping off the astronomy tower. In any case, your next present's waiting for you, if you'd just get yourself up here. I promise you'll like it.

Yours, to have and to hold, till death do we part,

Jamsiepoo.

PS: Peeves is on the second floor causing trouble. In the Entrance hall is a painting of a witch in crimson. Tell her James sent you.

I snorted. Jamesiepoo indeed. And how the heck did he know I was down here? Great gods, I'm being watched. And by him, no less.

I fought down a surge of panic and tried to check my reflection in a muddy puddle. What if he was right about the cold ruining my complexion? Then I wondered why I even cared what he thought.

Because I don't. Why would I? He's just a pompous, well born, thoughtless, coldhearted…

And I spent the next few moments trying to think up as many synonyms as I could for 'arrogant git'.

Then I ran out.

Dammit. I really need to start writing things down.

I stood up, brushed the snow off my lap, and headed in. Not because I cared what James thought or wanted my next present (because I didn't), but because I was afraid that if I spent another minute out there Hagrid would come to the school the next morning to find a cold, Lily shaped icicle on the perched on the steps.

I was right; dinner had ended, and the Entrance hall was empty. Crap. I had really wanted a nice bowl of soup or something. I was about to ascend the steps when I remembered Potter's letter. For a moment I wondered if he was just pulling another one of his infamous pranks, but my curiosity got the better of me. I had to see that painting.

Looking around, I spotted it at once—a golden framed canvas of a beautiful pale skinned witch in a crimson gown. Why hadn't I ever noticed it before?

"Hello," I greeted nervously as I approached her. It couldn't hurt to be polite. Who knows what paintings can do to you in your sleep if you offend them?

The witch glanced up from her embroidery and scanned me haughtily, looking me up and down as if trying to find something wrong with me. She shook her dark curls and lifted a corner of her ruby lips in a cold smile.

"What do you want, girl?" she purred, her voice like honey but infinitely colder.

I scowled, disliking her immediately. After all, I didn't come here to be insulted by a pastel canvas.

"Nevermind," I replied curtly, turning to leave.

She gave a tinkling laugh, and I was reminded most unpleasantly of Narcissa. "So, you disturb my sewing, only to tell me 'nevermind'? Say what you mean, girl, and let's be done with it."

I turned back around.

You're right. I was most rude. Why not I toss you into the fire to show you just how sorry I am?

"Er, Potter told me to find you."

Dammit. I really need to learn to be more assertive.

At my words, the witch's countenance changed at once, and she giggled loudly. "James? He sent you? Oh why didn't you say so? Is he here? Do tell me he's here. He hasn't come to visit me in forever."

I just stood there dumbly, taken aback by her sudden metamorphosis. "Er.." I began stupidly.

"…And Sirius? Remus? Are they here too? Wonderful boys, really they are. So charming." She gave another giggle, then seemed to realize that I was still there.

"I'm sorry girl; I didn't know you were affiliated with them. Here."

And the painting swung forward to reveal a dark corridor.

I fought the urge to gasp. Wow. So this is what Potter was talking about. I climbed in, hunched over, and followed the tunnel, feeling along the walls. Behind me, the witch called out one last time.

"Tell James I said 'hi'! Tell him Abigail said hi."

Damn Potter. What kind of guy flirts with paintings? She's not even pretty.

I'm not jealous, really I'm not. Why would I be? She's just a pastel canvas, and all she does is sew every day. I mean, look at her. Potter could never fall in love with something like that.

…Which doesn't mean he can fall in love with me. Because he can't. Because I won't let him. So there.

Five minutes later I emerged into the open again, and found myself on the seventh floor corridor where the Head Dorms and Gryffindor tower were. I gave a low whistle. So this was how Potter and his friends could go seemingly anywhere in only a few minutes. Secret passageways. I have to give them credit; this is ingenious, this is.

I made my way to the statue of the hippogriff guarding the entrance to the Head Dorms, told it the password, and walked in to find Jamesiepoo stretched out on the couch in front of the fire polishing his broomstick.

Wait a second. Where did that come from? I did not just think that. What I meant was that I walked in to find Potter stretched out on the couth in front of the fire, polishing his broomstick. Yes, that's it.

Whew, nice save, Lily.

Potter, not Jamesiepoo, looked up as I entered and gave me a grin that was certainly not breathtaking.

"Evening, Lily," he greeted cheerfully and set his Nimbus 1990 carefully on the floor.

"I take it you found Abby alright?"

I scowled. Who cares about Abigail? She's nobody. He was just trying to initiate a conversation, that's all.

"She says 'hi'," I mumbled, pulling off my cloak and hanging it up on the peg by the door.

"Fantastic."

What was fantastic? That I found her or that she said hi?

…Not that it matters.

James pointed to a package on the coffee table, grinning broadly. It was roughly the size of a book, flat and wrapped in green paper that caught the glint of the light from the fire. Despite myself, I began to feel the excitement that always came with receiving a present.

It couldn't be that bad, I said to myself. Nothing could be as bad as last night.

Ugh. I didn't even want to think about last night. Gods.

I threw Potter a glare, just for good measure, in case he thought I actually liked getting this attention, and picked it up. It felt pretty light my hands and I fought the urge to bring it up to my ear and shake it. Trying to keep from smiling in anticipation, I unwrapped the paper and lifted the top. There was a card inside, and I put that in my robe's pocket to read later.

I reached in and lifted out whatever was inside. It was some sort of fabric, cotton, perhaps, and very soft and nice feeling.

Then I saw the little purple house elves printed on the surface.

Strangely enough, the first thought that came to my mind as it unfolded and confirmed itself to be, indeed, a pair of Potter's boxers, was not how utterly disgusting and filthy this was. Instead, as I stood there, holding the offending article of clothing, I wondered, before anything else crossed my mind, that, if they had such wide legs, was it possible to look up Potter's boxers the way one looks up a girl's skirt?

Then it hit me. Potter's boxers. In my hands. Gods, this was disgusting. I leapt about three feet into the air and almost dropped my wand.

"POTTER!" I yelled, "What the bloody hell is this?"

He just sat there, looking confused. "You told me yesterday that they were your favorite pair. I thought I'd just give them to you and save you the trouble of denying me so that you could see me run around in them."

I snarled at him. "I don't want your dirty underwear, Potter."

"They're washed."

Oh, well that makes it so much better. Congratulations, Potter, at least you take care of your undergarments.

"I don't care if they're bloody dry cleaned,"I growled, Get them away from me."

Then I realized that I still held the boxers in my hand. Way to make a point, Lily. Good job.

…That was sarcasm, by the way.

I hurled them at Potter's annoying face and they landed perfectly. Wow. My aim was really improving. Maybe I should consider trying out for reserve chaser.

James peeled the boxers off his face and gave me a hurt look. "I thought you would like it." he muttered. Then he brightened. "Would you rather I dress up in a thong?"

That did it. I did not want to see James in a thong. That'd be just wrong.

I opened my mouth to tell him to bugger off.

"I WOULD RATHER SEE SLUGHORN IN A THONG, POTTER!" I bellowed at him, then stopped as I realized what I had just said.

Oh wow. Oh crap. Oh holy soup cans. I did not just say that. I did not.

Which, of course, meant that I had. I promptly turned a nice shade of pink. Potter was staring at me, jaw slack, making me feel very self conscious indeed. There was silence within the room while we both stared at each other, then James regained his composure.

"Wow, Evans…" he began, before breaking out into a huge grin.

I stood there, my eyes wide, then grabbed my gift from his startled grasp, turned on my heel, walked into my room, and slammed the door, pulling out my wand and locking it firmly.

Dammit! I can't believe I said that. Gods. I fought back a wave a nausea as an image of the fat, balding potions professor clad in nothing but a pink silk thong swam through my mind and was glad I had missed dinner. It's all Potter's fault. Why couldn't he just leave me alone?

Was it too late to transfer to Beauxbatons? I heard they have a nice healer curriculum there.

--- --- ---

I hope it was funny. Somehow it didn't seem it was as much as the first chapter. Ah well.

The first half was crap to write, and it probably shows, too. I shouldn't have made Lily's friends gone for the holiday, now I'm stuck making up things for her to do all day. Damn.

If I can take five hours to update, you can take five minutes to review. It makes my day. Please and thank you. X)

Oh, and by the way, did JK ever mention anywhere in her books that James had glasses? I don't remember. In any case, the James in my story doesn't. Just doesn't fit him, I suppose. /