Dec 4, 2005

A/N:

Hokay. Here we go.

I know it's been a while, and some of you have written me telling me so, and for that I apologize. I've been busy over this winter break and I have finals coming up so don't expect anything better. I will keep continuing the story, however, so no worries.

Here's to another achingly long chapter:

(It starts out a bit dull but gets better, I promise)

---

Chpt 4--The Pendant

As if James' horrendous singing wasn't bad enough. I don't even want to think about what happened today. Happy holidays indeed.

When I woke up this morning the first thing I did was check my pulse. Then I swallowed as hard as I could to check for a sore throat. After that I tested all my limbs for proper functioning. And finally, I examined every inch of my body to look for even a minor bruise. Nothing.

I was perfectly healthy. Damn. There was nothing I could do to get out of going to Essex today….Unless I jumped off a cliff, which, in my situation, didn't seem so particularly uninviting.

Since I had chosen to sleep in the dormitories last night I once again encountered the frosty floorboards when I swung my (perfectly functional) legs out of bed reluctantly. When the shock of the cold ground wore off, I tottered off to washroom, grumbling grumpily for effect.

About an hour later I was huddled next to James on the Hogwarts Express, speeding towards London at who cares how many miles per hour. Beside me, Potter was humming what sounded suspiciously like "Lily, My Lily." He was now completely wart free.

…That is, he was wart free on his face. I'd never checked the other, er…places, and I didn't particularly want to.

"Shut up, James," I murmured more to myself than to him, but he heard me.

"I'm just spreading a little Christmas cheer."

I just scoffed and turned to the window.

"Do you want me to tell you a story, Lily?" James asked after a while.

"Bugger off Potter." I wasn't in the mood for stories.

But of course, he continued on like he hadn't heard me. "Once upon a time there was a princess who lived high up in a castle in the sky. She was stunningly beautiful, with crystal blue eyes and a perfect smile, and all the young men wanted to be the one to wed her."

Despite my earlier surliness, I actually burst out laughing at that. And I had thought James was highly unconventional. If I had a knut for every story that began like that...well, I wont go there, I don't need to be depressed further.

James, however, remained unperturbed by my sudden outburst.

"This princess," he continued, "only had eyes for one man, but sadly, the young man she loved was the only one in the kingdom who didn't love her back. She tried everything to woo him, dressing up nicely, showering him with presents—"

"James," I interrupted, "You're insane."

He gave me a crooked smile that was absolutely not breathtaking (it was made him look a bit like a hyena). "So I've heard," he replied nonchalantly, "Anyway, this princess, she—"

"Stop it James."

"—Finally got so frustrated by her failed attempts to win his heart that she decided to try something drastic, and—"

"Gods, James, this is ridiculous."

And it was. I mean, I had better things to do than to listen to some dumb story. Or…actually, I didn't. But there was no way in Hell I was going to admit that.

James exhaled in frustration. "Dammit Lily," he exclaimed in what definitely was not a manly way, "If you would stop interrupting for just half a second I could finish the story!"

Well, now, that was a bit exaggerated, wouldn't you think? I have certainly allotted him quite a lot of time for his "story", and self proclaimed 'fast as lightning' seeker or not, there was no way he could finish it in half a second. I was just about to open my mouth to tell him so when he spoke again:

"If you would just listen you'd see that it actually has some relevance to—"

I actually let out a sort of a snort at this. "Really, James," I said, raising an eyebrow, "I suppose the princess is actually me and the young man is you?" He was just too predictable, that James Potter. To the point where I bet I can guess what he's about to say next, something on the lines of "Why, yes, Lily, how did you know?"

Apparently, I was wrong.

"Well, no," he replied sort of quietly, which is strange, for him, "I was going to say that the princess is me and the young man is you, and…"

I didn't hear the rest of what he said, because by that time, I was laughing so hard that my laughter was drowning out the noise of the engine, let alone whatever James was saying. If there was a medal for dying from laughter, I was already half way there.

Seriously. Here I was, here I was, picturing James (the self proclaimed manliest man in the school…who could probably out-man Santa Claus, whom we all know is the macho man)…here I was, picturing him in a pink frilly dress.

…Well, that and a corset, but I didn't really want to go there. I really didn't want to see him again the way that I'd seen him two days ago. Gods.

"Merlin, Potter," I managed to get out between giggles—and I was really giggling like a little girl at this point, I'm ashamed to admit—"that has got to be the most ridiculous thing anyone has ever said to me."

Well, no, that was a bit unfair (last year Allison Kraut told me that American Muggle children enjoy watching a yellow rectangular bath sponge parade about on the television), but what James just said was definitely among that top five.

James actually looked a bit hurt for a moment, then broke out into a large grin and gave a little bow. How he managed to do so sitting down I don't know, but manage it he did. I scoffed again, certainly not impressed by his little gesture, and turned to the window.

---

By the time we reached London station, I was feeling decidedly hungry. Breakfast had been a slice of toast and a swig of pumpkin juice, and I needed my nourishment. The nice lady that always pushed the trolley of sweets on the Hogwarts Express had been frustratingly absent. I wondered where she could be.

Pfft, off soaking up the sun in the Caribbean, no doubt. Or exploring the ruins of Stonehenge. Or maybe she was off starting a new chain of lotion and skin care products. Seriously, how could she? Leaving her post and letting us all go hungry? What has the world come to?

I decided then and there that the next time I saw that lady I would be sure to give her a firm talking to, complete with finger wagging and the threat that if she ever left us again she would receive a nice bucket of sludge overturned upon her. That would show her.

James and I exited the station, keeping our eyes on our feet and trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, lest we draw attention to ourselves in any way. It's not everyday that two strange teenagers materialize through solid wall as if it were made from taffy.

…Okay, I admit, taffy is a poor—sorry, terrible—example, but what could I say? If I had had any imagination to begin with, it would have gone on strike form the sheer lack of sustenance.

I glanced to my left and spotted a small kiosk, complete with a sop machine and candy bar display. My mouth began to water immediately and I reached my hands into my pockets to rummage for some spare change, but no luck; all I had was a couple knuts, the bat's eye I had stuffed into there last week in Potions, and a sickle. I could just imagine the stares I would receive if I tried to pay the kiosk clerk with those.

Hmm…I thought as I fingered my wand in my coat pocket. I could conjure up a sandwich or two indiscreetly and no unsuspecting muggle would see and thus end up having their memory of the last two and a half hours obliviated.

Yes, I'll show them how indiscreet I can be. I'm the master—er, mistress—of indiscreetness, and someday I will be able to publish a book on the arts of conjuring up sandwiches while walking through a crowded London train station. I'll title it "The Arts of Conjuring up a Sandwich While Walking Through a Crowded London Train Station" and someday I'll be rich and famous.

I gripped my wand with my left hand (it was a pity that it was in my left pocket because I was right handed), looked quickly around me to check if anyone was looking my way, and executed a quick spell, feeling quite smug.

In fact, I was two seconds away from cheering in glee when a jet of yellow light whizzed out from my wand pocket, and up through the crowd, nearly missing the bald plate of a middle aged man and struck the shelves behind the hapless kiosk clerk, burying him under a pile of magazines.

I stared. What else would I have done in such a situation? I had gotten so caught up in my plans to take over the world—er, make the world a better place—with my book that I had forgotten that I am ridiculously terribly horribly frustratingly glaringly badbadbad at conjuring, much less attempting to do so with my left hand.

So, as pandemonium broke out along the perimeter of the kiosk booth, I merely stared, slack jawed.

Unfortunately, I had forgotten to stop walking.

My foot caught on something hard and I tripped, doing a fair imitation of a banshee, and toppled head first into a large shape. The next thing I knew, I was half laying on said dark shape, half on a very uncomfortable guitar case, staring up into the face of a very incredulous James Potter, who looked as if he couldn't quite figure out why I was suddenly not next to him but laying on the floor.

That was the first thing I realized. The second thing being that the dark shape was in fact, not a dark shape, but a very angry looking bearded hobo…dude.

Crap! If there had been a large enough hole in my thirty meter radius I would have gladly crawled inside it. In light of recent, er, happenings, however, I was currently sprawled most unbecomingly over the guitar case of aforementioned hobo, and, if the pain in my body were any indication, missing quite a few limbs.

For a moment I actually debated just laying there and eventually melting away into the pavement from sheer embarrassment, shock, or a mixture of the two, when I was most rudely yanked to my feet.

"Sorry, sir," I heard James' voice apologizing to the man, who had similarly been helped to his feet. To be truthful he could've been speaking to anybody, but I thought the bearded dude was a fair estimate.

To which the scraggly man replied in a long string of curse words which loosely translated to "What the hell do you think you're doing, girl?"

"You keep your filthy girlfriend away from me or so help me, I'll put the both of you into jail," the man continued, this time directed at James, who was looking quite perplexed.

Girlfriend? Me? Filthy? Now that was a bit unfair, I thought, and I frantically tried to will my unresponsive mouth into telling him so, or, at the very least, apologizing. Unfortunately, all that came out was a string of stutters that faintly resembled the sounds a fish would make it if could speak.

"We're very sorry, sir," James repeated, giving me a nudge. "Aren't we, Lily? We're very sorry?"

I glared at him. Really now, he was acting as if I were a child whom he was persuading to apologize for knocking over a fruit display. That was a bit much, but I suppose he was trying to help. I nodded dumbly, making my fish sounds.

"My girlfriend is a bit addled," he added, shaking his head in a "what will I do with her" manner.

What? I am certainly not addled, I'm just a bit wand in adept, is all. How dare he say such a thing? Do I look addled? I certainly do not, because I certainly am not! …And I am also certainly not his girlfriend. So there.

James voiced something about wanting to pay for damages (although I never did damage anything) and produced a galleon from his pocket. The hobo guy began cursing about the worthlessness of foreign coins.

"What in the world is this?" he exclaimed (again, loosely translated), "I can't run a business on a broken guitar and this…artifact."

Business? I glanced down and spotted a guitar laying a few feet away (which explained the very un-cushion like guitar case), and a hat in which a few crumpled pound notes had been dropped. Oh, so that was it. He was a troubadour. Interesting. I began to ponder the live of such a person—seeing as my mouth was currently refusing to work properly, I didn't really have any other thing to do.

I was just touching upon the subject of income when James' hand, which was still gripping my arm tightly, suddenly moved away rather quickly, and I was left with no choice but to will my legs into running along, lest my arm be ripped out from my socket (which wouldn't have been so bad if it weren't for the fact that that was my wand arm and I was quite attached to it).

The troubadour guy was still shouting curses at us as we ran through the throng and around a corner. Actually, James ran and I…well, I was being dragged along like a rag doll. As soon as we were safely out of ear, eye, or nose shot of Mr. Bearded, I wrenched my arm from James' grasp and shoved him away.

"What the hell are you doing, Potter?" I spat at him—my mouth had become fully functional again—rubbing my bruised bicep. The boy really did have a hell of a grip.

He stared at me, incredulous. "What am I doing? I was rescuing you, for Merlin's sake. What the hell were you doing?"

Er…good question. I actually did not know what I had been doing back there, what with the yellow jet of light and all, but I covered myself up with a loud "hmmph" and a tossing of my head. I admit, I was being a bit unfair here; after all, Potter had gotten me out of a sticky situation, but I had to hang on to whatever amount of dignity I had left.

James just stared at me for a few moments more then muttered something about how ungrateful women are and began striding off. I followed--though I had trouble keeping up with his pace--limping slightly but more or less whole.

"Seriously, Lily, what happened back there?" he asked after a while.

I stopped feeling sorry for myself for a moment. "I tripped over a guitar case, that's what happened," I replied, still in my foul mood. It would take a gang of four Quidditch players to lift me out of my mood, the way this was going. For all I know, it was Potter's fault! Who knows, he could've strategically placed the offending object there while I was preoccupied about soup and candy bars and world famous novels.

That's it, he's jealous that someday I'll be a famous author and he'll be a something or another. Ha, think he's sneaky, does he? Well I've got him all figured out, nothing gets by me.

We reached platform 5 and both automatically glanced up at the train schedule posted in front of us, checking for our train to Essex. We were early.

James gave a wry smile (he really wasn't being himself today, for some reason). "People don't just go crashing over guitar cases for no reason."

"I was distracted," I said, shrugging like it was no big deal. And it wasn't. Okay, if you consider knocking over a shelf full of magazines a big deal, then yes, it would be a big deal, but otherwise, it wasn't.

I snuck a look at James after a while to see his reaction, not that I really cared what he thought. Because I didn't. I mean, why would I? He was just my Head Boy…er, I meant the Head Boy, and an acquaintance. Who happened to have really nice legs.

…I mean…

Oops, there's the train, wouldn't want to be late now would we? I gathered up my stuff and headed in. Well, no, I didn't actually have any stuff to gather up, but hypothetically speaking, if I had any stuff to gather, then I would have gathered it. Because I'm good at that…gathering stuff. Yeah.

Maybe I should just not think for a few minutes.

---

Half an hour later, we had purchased the sweets and were heading back to the station when James suddenly grabbed my arm.

"Hold on a sec, Lily, I'll be right back," he said, and was gone. I was left clutching the "Thank you" bag and rubbing my arm where he had clutched it, which was, might I add, the exact same place that he had grabbed me earlier after the troubadour incident…but I'd rather not touch on that topic again.

Alright. Let's think about something else. So here I am standing in a crowded street in the middle of…somewhere, holding a bag of sweets that weren't even mine, with the directions to the station in James' posession. That's not so bad. There are so many worse situations I could be in.

For example. Let's see…I could be trapped in a glass box with no air holes about to be shipped out to Finland. That would be much worse. Yes. Or…I could be stranded in a deserted island somewhere in the…mid…Pacific…west…place.

Hokay. It's okay, Lily. There's nothing to worry about. You can keep from screaming and running around like a chicken that's just had its head chopped off, sure you can. You're Head Girl. You're going to be a world renowned author one day, you can fly if you believe in yourself enough; you can do anything.

I ignored the stares I was beginning to get from passers by and tried to crane my head over the crowd to see if I could spot James. Really now, where had that boy gone? One minute he was here and the next he was gone, before I'd even had a chance to…well, do much of anything.

Oh crap. Oh no. What if he'd left me on purpose, under the guise of having to go do…something? What if he never came back for me? What if he left me here to rot in this dark, filthy dungeon of my forefathers…?

Okay, fine, maybe I was being a little drastic, but one could see where I was going with this train of thought. I mean seriously, what if Potter was right now on the train back to London secretly laughing his head off because Lily, poor misguided Lily, is still waiting for him to come back.

Well, you know what, Potter? I don't need you. No I don't. I can take care of myself, just you wait and see. You wait and see who gets the last laugh (it'll be me) and who has the carpet pulled from under their feet (that'll be you).

Really now, I have no reason to be frightened, I'll just go ask somebody for the directions to the nearest station and catch a train back to London, then to Hogwarts. I don't exactly have money, but if that bearded hobo block back there can do it, well so can I. I have a decent voice; I'll be back at Hogwarts in no t---

(I didn't finish my train of thought because I was suddenly whirled around by somebody who grabbed my arm—again in that same place--and turned me around to face them). I screwed up my eyes tight.

…And screamed.

Yes, I'm sorry to admit it; I screamed. Like a little girl. Right then and there in the middle of the street, with Englanders bustling about trying to do their Christmas shopping.

I screamed. No, let me emphasize it again: I screamed. And just to prove my point, one more time:

Screamed.

Now, before I proceed, let me tell you one thing: If you are ever in the process of being kidnapped, or in circumstances that will soon lead to you to be kidnapped, and you have no defensive plan, just scream. It'll draw attention toward you and scare away the would-be kidnapper.

…However, it is always best to make sure that you are, in fact, in the process of being kidnapped, and that you really are in the presence of a kidnapper, and not just a friend who is wanting to get your attention.

To make a long story short, No, I wasn't actually being kidnapped.

To make an already short story even shorter, It was James.

To say the least, I was embarrassed beyond belief. Forget about crawling into a hole; why not just kill me straight up? It would save a lot of complication.

James immediately clapped his hand over my mouth (by that time I hadn't yet realized it was him) and muffled my protests. He apologized sheepishly to the passers by, doing his "my girlfriend is addled" bit again, and led me to a relatively empty street corner.

Might I mention, however, that the position I was currently in—James' hand over my mouth, my back to him—did not allow me to discern that it was indeed him and not some deranged psychopath. And so I did my best to hurt him, kicking and scratching and still screaming my muffled screams. And when that didn't work, I opened my mouth as best I could, and bit down hard.

Potter released me immediately, cursing something foul, and I immediately whirled around to face him, my hand already halfway to my pocket where my wand lay. Then I realized who it was. My jaw dropped.

Whoops.

There he stood in front of me, the same James Potter I'd known for years, sucking on his palm where I'd bit him and looking very cross indeed. "What the hell, Lily?" He cried indignantly, drawing attention from whatever Englanders that were not already looking at us.

I was frozen maybe two paces from him, my hair disheveled, my cloak wrinkled, my right hand halfway to my pocket (I'd forgotten, apparently, that my want was in my left pocket), staring slack jawed at him. On one hand, I wanted to slap him for almost scaring me literally to death, and on the other, I was more embarrassed than I had ever been in my life. I was also seriously considering running up to him and hugging him for not leaving me in that street to rot and grow old, not that I would admit I was scared, or that I was actually wanting to hug him.

Oh, and let's not forget hungry, confused, and extremely extremely cold.

(Stir well and serve over ice.)

By the time we had both calmed down sufficiently (though James' hand still bore some nasty teeth marks), I'd explained myself vaguely, and the entire city had stopped staring at us, we began to walk back toward the station.

"Damn, Lily, I don't even want to ask," James muttered as we finally reached our platform and boarded the train (in all, the walk to the station took maybe ten minutes, but from that street, it had seemed a whole lot further).

I blushed a bit but remained silent. It wasn't as if I wanted to tell him.

We soon realized that this train was a hell of a lot more crowded than the one in which we had come; and furthermore, the population was largely consisted of well dressed individuals. That is, ladies in evening gowns, fancy hats, and high heels, and men in slacks, dress shirts, and tuxedos. James and I shared a curious look, then chose a seat across from a particularly large woman in a violet sequined dress, a feather boa, and too much lipstick.

The first ten minutes or so of the ride went quite smoothly; in fact, it was quite devoid of any activity. Then, the large woman turned to us and gave us a grandmotherly smile.

Uh oh. This couldn't be good. I glanced at James, who looked a great deal calmer about this matter than I did. I tried to rearrange my face to mimic his expression, but I don't think I achieved anything.

"Good evening, dears," the woman began in a husky voice.

"Er…good evening," James and I replied as one, though he sounded a whole lot more convinced than I did.

The woman beamed at us. " I'm called Eleanor."

"James," offered Potter. He gestured to me. "This is Lily."

I shot him a glare. Of course I knew who I was, I didn't need him to explain it to anyone; I was capable of common speech. Just to prove it, I smiled shakily and added a "Nice to meet you."

Potter glanced at me, but whatever he was about to say was cut off as Eleanor gave a deep chortle and rearranged her pink boa. "Ever been to Cornwall, dears?"

We glanced at each other, Potter and I, wondering what this question had to do with anything.

"Er…no, Ma'am."

"Call me Eleanor," Eleanor grinned.

"We have," she added after a while, "my husband and I, many times." She indicated a middle aged, balding gentleman sitting across the aisle from us.

As we shared a wave with said husband, Eleanor gave a little chuckle.

"You'll love it, dears. It's quite a wonderful place."

James and I must have looked a bit lost because after a moment she explained herself.

"Cornwall. It's quite a wonderful place."

"I'm sure it is," James replied cheerfully, though I'm sure he had no idea where this was going, either.

Eleanor, apparently, was unconvinced, because she gave him a skeptical look and began to eye our outfits, which, I admit, looked very out of place among these people.

"You are going to the dinner party, are you not?" she asked after a while.

James and I exchanged another look before he blurted out "Of course!"

I looked at him, wide eyed. Dinner party? What dinner party? We were going to no dinner party…!

"We thought we'd change when we got there," Potter explained, "We didn't want to wrinkle our outfits."

"Of course, boy," Eleanor replied, nodding as if that made the most sense in the world.

I looked from her, to him, to back again, and was opening my mouth to protest and ask what the hell I had missed when James nudged me in the ribs. I let out a little squeak and clutched at where he had elbowed me, giving him an indignant stare. How did he know I was about to talk, anyways? Gods, the boy was insane.

After the pain diminished, I tried to catch James' eye so we could leave and go talk privately about all of this, but he refused to look at me. I was beginning to get frustrated.

"I remember when I was your age," Eleanor was saying across from us. "I was young and in love…those were the days."

"It's a wonderful thing, love is," James commented, while I tried to disguise my snort as a cough. Really now, what did he know about love?

The woman nodded frantically, her curls bouncing ridiculously. "Quite." She gave us a coy look. "You two dears would know, wouldn't you?"

I stared at her, wide-eyed. Wait just a gosh darn tootin' minute! What was she implying? That James and I were a couple? Because that certainly wasn't the case. Once again, I tried to catch James' eye, but he was distracted otherwise.

"Well, we've had some problems but we managed to work them out," Potter replied, managing to look embarrassed.

Pfft, he wasn't fooling anyone. I gave him a sharp nudge in the ribs, returning the favor that he had shown me a few minutes ago. He didn't flinch.

Eleanor gave us a watery smile. "I'm happy for the both of you," she beamed, and looked as if she wanted to give us a hug, something that neither James or I wanted at the moment.

"We're getting married in June."

My eyes opened wider than snitches, and I again elbowed Potter in the ribs, considerably harder this time, while stomping on his foot. Again, he didn't move a muscle. What was this guy made of, steel?

"But you're so young!"

I frantically shook my head, but neither of the two were paying attention, they were both currently engrossed in the discussion of our marriage.

"Well, we love each other very much."

That did it. I opened my mouth.

"Ma'am," I said quickly, "James here has been lying to you. We—"

But before I could get anything out, Potter had already lugged me to my feet, again, by my already very sore arm. I squealed in protest.

"Sorry Eleanor," he apologized, "but could you excuse us? We need a moment."

"Of course," she beamed, waving us off, "You lovebirds take all the time you want. I'll be here."

Lovebirds! That was going a little too far. I opened my mouth to tell her so, but James was dragging me (again!) down the aisle and the very small washroom, locking the door behind us.

"What were you doing back there, Potter?" I asked him the moment we were alone. "How could you tell her that—"

I was againagainagain! cut off as James flipped the lid down on the plastic toilet, flopped down on it, and pulled me onto him. The next thing I knew, I was sitting on his lap on what must have been the skimpiest toilet ever known to man in what must have been the smallest bathroom known to man. Great. Just great.

This day was turning out just peachy.

"Let me go, Potter," I exclaimed, wiggling in an effort to get off.

James' eyes widened. "Whoa, Lily. Stop it. That wiggling is making me, er…quite uncomfortable."

I glared at him, not ceasing in my efforts. What was he on about? How could my wiggling make him uncomfortable? I was the one who was uncomfortable. All I was doing was squirming while I was on his lap. Why would that make him uncomfort….oh.

I stopped.

"That's better," James said, shifting a bit while I tried to stay as still as possible in an effort to not make him…"uncomfortable."

For a few moments there was an awkward silence, then I finally broke the silence. "James…" I began, "why are we going to Cornwall?"

He frowned a bit. "Er…I don't…know, actually. I was hoping you would."

"I don't."

"Oh. Well, that takes care of that, then."

I ground my teeth in frustration. "What? No it doesn't. I don't want to go to Cornwall."

James looked at me as if I were crazy. "Why ever not, Lily dear? Eleanor said it was a wonderful place."

"We can't go to Cornwall."

He raised an eyebrow. "Of course we can. We're already on the train, in case you haven't noticed."

I had.

"James," I said, giving him a stern look.

"Lily," he mimicked me, returning the look.

And then, his face moved toward mine, just a bit. At first, I wasn't sure if it had happened, but after a moment I was positive we were closer than we had been when this conversation started.

"Er…James," I said awkwardly, trying to move away while still trying to keep him from becoming "uncomfortable."

"Yes?" He moved closer by just a hair.

I began to panic. Our faces were now less than a snitch's length apart, and I could see the individual eyelashes framing James' eyes, which were quite a lovely shade of golden hazel, might I add.

"Y-you haven't finished your…your story."

He moved even closer. "The princess and the young man married and lived happily ever after," he replied softly.

I blinked, then blinked again. Nope, this was definitely not a dream. He was still here. Oh my god. Someone help me.

"The end."

I could feel his breath on my face and my heart was beginning to pound faster than normal. Oh gods…I closed my eyes, and then…

CLANG CLANG CLANG

The train went over a series of sharp bumps and James and I immediately sprang apart. Well, actually, I sprang away from him and he stood up, looking disgruntled. I brushed myself off, gave him a small smile, and tried to pretend that had never happened.

…Well, it hadn't. We were just sitting in the bathroom exchanging childhood stories. We never even came remotely close to…Oh Merlin.

---

James gave me a sufficient amount of times to calm down and collect myself before approaching me again. By that time we had returned to Hogwarts, delivered the bag of sweets to a smiling Dumbledore (who I couldn't help feeling knew everything that had transpired that day) and returned to the Head Dorms.

"Hey, Lily," he called towards me just as I was about to open the door to my bedroom. He looked his normal self, but I was still wary. I turned to him, ready to back away and lock the door if he made any sudden moves.

"I got you this gift. Day four, eh?" he said and handed me a small box wrapped in gold foil.

I eyed him suspiciously (and I had reason to, after his previous gifts) and carefully lifted off the lid.

And couldn't keep myself from gasping. Inside the box lay a beautiful heart shaped ruby pendant draped upon a gleaming chain. It was beautiful, and immediately all thoughts of suspicion fled from my mind.

"Wow," I murmured, at a loss for words. "Thanks, James. V-very much."

James just grinned smugly, and if it had been any other circumstances, his haughty expression would've made me want to jinx him. But as it was, I could only stare.

"I got it for you back in Essex."

His tone definitely held a trace of bitterness when he said that, and I blushed a bit (aggrh), thinking of the little…er, 'incident' that had occurred then. So that's what he was doing. Well, why the heck hadn't he told me so? It would've saved me a whole lot of embarrassment.

I tried very hard to put on a this-gift-is-too-much-take-it-back-before-I-curse-you face but my body wasn't cooperating so I just broke out into a huge smile (that I tried very hard to hide) and pulled on the necklace. We said out mutual goodnights and headed to our respective rooms.

Maybe James wasn't so bad after all.

(I couldn't have been more wrong.)

---

Bum bum buuum!

And so the story unfolds. The next chapter will, hopefully, be up in at most two weeks. In the mean time, feel free to check out my other stories/one-shots and please do leave a review.

-ToC