Red Lipstick On the Mirror

For so many days, for so many years, she acted like she hated him. And at times she did, she couldn't stand him. But she never quit loving him. She couldn't. He was a person that it was nearly impossible to be cross with for long, and he knew that. James Potter knew that there'd be a message written in red lipstick on his mirror in the morning. Ever since fifth year he'd wake up in the morning and find a mysterious message written gracefully on his mirror in the red paste. The first one was so captivating; he couldn't help but wish so badly that it was she. At that time, he didn't know who had wrote it, not mentally he didn't know, but deeply hidden in the forgotten and not yet realized corners of his heart he knew it was she. He had woken up rather early on that Saturday morning of the Gryffindor versus Syltherin Quiditch match. He waltzed in the bathroom, hoping to take a warm shower and to slowly be coaxed in a slumber afterwards.

After he had started the water up and the steam was pouring into the large bathroom, he saw it. He was pulling his t-shirt over his head when it caught his eye.

'Although I act as though I can't stand you, my eyes are only on you today.' It said. His heart nearly stopped. He knew that writing. He said watched it be written time after time again. 'No, she wouldn't waste her time on you, Potter.' He said darkly to himself. And after that every morning he'd wake up to see messages over and over again. One time there was even something he knew he would remember for the rest of his life, and he finally knew it was from her. 'Love is giving someone the power to destroy you, but trusting them enough not to.' How did he know it was her? How could he not! It was exactly something she would say. Typically, Lily Evans grew up in a world of pain, a world where she as a silly little girl. A girl who through her heart into the world to only have it broken into a thousand small pieces. He knew that she was a hopeless romantic at heart, and it helped him a lot, especially when she had said in a report for Muggle Studies class. She thought he wouldn't remember it, but he listened to every word she said in class, every word she said to him. The ones that cut him deeply, and the ones who gave him such ecstasy it took hours to come off it.

And finally she befriended him. And he noticed how the beautifully thought out messages were slowly coming to an end. And after a long and miserable month of not even having one message, he broke down and finally asked her the question that had burdened his heart.

"Why have the messages stopped?" He whispered softly one night as they sat together in each others arms in front of the Gryffindor Common rooms fire. He couldn't remember how they had ended up that way. Maybe it was because it was nearing Christmas, and she was in a naturally good mood, or maybe because the castle was cold and the walk from McGonagalls room where the Head Meeting was held was along one. 'Or maybe,' he thought in the back of his head, 'She loves me…'.

'What do you mean James?' She whispered back softly to him, looking up at him, her Emerald Green eyes staring into his brown eyes. She noticed how they had the prettiest color purple flecks in them.

"Why have the messages stopped, Lily?" he said, "Lily, I know that you wrote those messages. The fact that your always putting peoples deepest thoughts into beautiful words, the way you smiled at me every time I asked you about them. How you wear red lipstick everyday."

"Are you calling me a huzzy?" she laughed.

"No, you never wear it like the other girls of this school do, you put it on lightly and delicately.'" James said softly. He rubbed his thumb up and down her arm, giving her wonderful shivers up and down her spin. James knew she was playing her answer over in her head.

"Just tell me Lily, don't think about the answer." He said. "For once Lily, I wish you didn't think." He rested his forehead against hers.

After a beautiful moment, her soft voice reached his ears. "I don't need to write them anymore, James."

"Why?"

"Because, now I can do this." She brushed her lips against his. His eyes got very wide at first, before slowly closing. One of his hands rested on her neck and the other on a small of her back. After a long, but not long enough for him, moment they pulled away.

"Now, would you rather have me write things to you, or tell them to you?" she said softly, smiling.

"I'd rather you tell them to me."

"Good, that's what I thought."