It was a Monday morning. Half an hour ago, I had tumbled out of bed. Ten minutes ago, I had been munching sleepily on breakfast, struggling not to fall asleep in my cereal. I really did not need people asking me stupid questions at that particular time.

Or at any time, in fact.

"Hey, Evans, I heard you and Potter are going out now. That true?"

I stared in horror at the bluntly curious, slightly sneering fifth year Ravenclaw I don't even speak to. In fact, I wasn't even entirely sure of her name. "Excuse me?" I asked incredulously, "Where the hell did you hear that?"

She shrugged, chewing her gum with her mouth open, dark eyes looking me up and down. "It's been going around."

I stared at her, for a moment totally speechless. "No!" I snapped forcefully, when my tongue recovered from the shock, "It is absolutely not true, and anyone who believes it is a gullible retard!"

Shoving my way brutally past her, I just about heard her say loudly, "God, I was only asking!" but I failed to feel any sympathy for her. Stupid cow. Who the hell did she think she was?

I stormed up the corridor, glaring at the floor. Inside, I was starting to experience rather large pangs of panic. Was the whole school talking about this? And could it…could it possibly be anything to do with mine and Potter's last detention with Trelawney? No, I told myself furiously, it can't be. It must just be some stupid rumour that girl made up. No point in worrying about it…

Too lost in my own thoughts, I strode straight around the corner without looking up, and ended up smacking heavily straight into someone.

Oh, classic. I could see today was going to be a good day already.

"Sorry," I muttered awkwardly, making to side-step them without bothering to look up, but a hand seized my arm and forced me painfully to a stop.

"Sorry! You should be more than effing sorry, Lily Evans!" Oh, God. Dreading the worst, I looked up and met eyes with Katy's incensed blue glare.

"I didn't do it!" I blurted out stupidly, "It's just gossip, I swear!"

Her face contorted horribly. "You bitch, Lily! I knew there was something going on, I bet it was you who seduced him as well! Two-timing little cow!" And before I knew what was happening, she had dealt me a stinging slap. Right on my ex-broken cheek bone.

Ouch. Ouch. And double-flipping-ouch. I screamed out loud because of the sheer pain, the recently knitted bone throbbing dully once again. I jerked myself away from her grip.

"For God's sake, Katy, I didn't do anything with your sodding boyfriend!" Urugh, the implication made me feel sick. Hey, that was good, say it out loud. "The thought makes me SICK!" People were starting to run over, all eager and excited at a prospect cat-fight starting in the corridors. They formed a ring around us, forcing a horribly trapped feeling onto me. I felt like I was in a bloody arena. Katy was still snarling at me, yet when I looked closer I could see her eyes were sparkling with tears.

"Don't you dare lie to me, you stupid cow! I overheard that Trelawney woman telling McGonagall so!"

"Well, you heard wrong, didn't you?" I snapped back at her, "There is nothing going on between me and Potter!"

"There had BLOODY BETTER NOT BE!" Katy screamed, her cheeks scarlet with rage, her hands twisted into fists. "Because if there is, then I will KILL you!"

Things might have gone further, hell, I had even started feeling inside my robe for my wand, but the next moment I heard someone manfully parting the crowd, and a voice saying forcefully, "Now then, come on, can't you sort this out in your own time? We all have lessons to be going to…"

I glanced scornfully over at the Prefect practically thrusting his badge under our noses. Then my eyes focused. Oh my giddygod. Moony.

His eyes did some focusing of his own, and his reluctantly authorative expression snapped into a rather shocked one. "Lily? What on earth are you doing?"

My knees trembled somewhat, and I could hardly meet his eyes. Oh sweet Merlin's socks, what must he think of me? His fellow Prefect causing a fight? Oh, class, Lily, he was sure going to be ever so impressed by me now.

"Uh," I muttered, my defensive anger deflating rapidly, "That would be…erm. Doesn't matter." My cheeks burnt bright red, and without looking at anyone, I shoved my way through the crowd and practically ran away. Shaking violently, my heart beating a furious drum roll, I let my strides carry me faster and faster away from the seething crowd. This had gone too far – much too far. People were decking me over a ridiculous rumour that could never be true. Hardly able to see straight, my trembling fingers found the appropriate classroom door and without hesitation, I dived through it.

The first thing I saw was Potter's messy haired head sitting at our desk.

"Potter," I said grimly as I approached him, ignoring McGonagall and the other few early arrivers in the room, "We need to talk."

He snapped his head up to look at me at once, the expression on his face oddly guarded. "Why? What about?"

"Have you heard latest piece of gossip Hogwarts is thriving on at the moment?" I snarled, dropping my bag on the floor and sliding into my seat. He regarded me with a raised eyebrow, then leant casually back in his chair.

"Oh, that. What are you stressing about? It'll all be blown over by next week."

I gaped at him, unable to believe his couldn't-care-less attitude. "Well," I said shakily, struggling hard to contain my anger, "It would have been nice for you to have told your girlfriend that, before she starts going around slapping people!"

He stared blankly at me. "Who?"

Oh, for crying out loud. "Your GIRLFRIEND, Potter!" I all but yelled at him, "You know, Katy? Ring any bells in that thick head of yours?"

He raised his eyes skywards, and shook his head. "Ancient history, Evans. She's not my girlfriend any more – I dumped her last night."

Well. That was unexpected. I sat there blinking at him, temporarily thrown. Then finally it clicked. "For Merlin's sake!" I muttered, burying my face in my hands, "No wonder she was so friggin' upset!"

"Why, what did she do?" His voice sounded casual, totally unconcerned. I raised my head, and looked him right in the eye.

"Slapped me across the face."

He chuckled slightly. "Wow, she must have been angry."

Just like that. I glowered at him, hardly able to believe it. "That slap hurt, you know, Potter!"

He shot me a look, eyebrows once again raised. Damn him and his eyebrows. "Ah, grow some balls, Evans. I've been slapped more times than a baby's arse, but I don't whine."

I was just about to add to his famous slap-count, when McGonagall said loudly, "Miss Evans and Mr Potter, as much as the workings of your lives fascinate us all, could you please save the rowing until after my class? You see, I would rather like to begin my lesson."

And with that, we both flung our heads forward to listen to her, and didn't say another word for the rest of the hour.

The rest of the week passed by in a similar fashion. I couldn't go anywhere without being stopped by totally random people asking me if I was going out with Potter. Several times I was stalked by a few of Katy's Ravenclaw mates, who all shouted abuse and threw badly-aimed objects at me.

"I don't get it," said Zea on the Wednesday in the middle of lunch, as the third paper ball went zooming past us, missing us by yards. "If they want to have it out with you, why don't they just come up and argue with you? Why do they have to throw stuff?"

"They're getting better," remarked Ashleigh dryly, watching the fourth paper ball fly past her school bag (sitting about a metre away from her, mind you) "With every throw they get closer to us by about an inch."

"Yeah," snorted Marlene, "Come next year they might actually hit one of us."

The girls from Ravenclaw leered and cat-called. One of them lobbed a chop-stick at me (it was noodles for lunch) and it clattered sadly on the floor, about a foot away from my leg.

"Try aiming!" Zea yelled at them, "Then maybe you'll actually hit one of us!"

They all sneered and tossed their hair. One of them spoke up. "We're not throwing stuff at you!" she said, glaring at me, "We're doing it to her, because she stole our friend's boyfriend!"

"Oh yeah?" replied Zea, swinging her legs over the bench and standing up to tower over them. Her expression was one of deep-seated menace. "Well, anyone who throws stuff at my friends throws stuff at me too. And let me warn you, I can hold a grudge for a very long time…" She twirled her wand menacingly. It seemed they finally got the message, because they all disappeared soon after that.

"Thanks," I muttered to Zea when she sat back down, feeling marginally better.

"No problem," she replied airily, before going straight back to her food.

Come Friday, I was incredibly pissed off.

Seriously. Almost every day, I would find myself within a five-metre range of Potter, someone would wolf-whistle piercingly, Katy would glare at me with eyes full of tears, Katy's mates would start chucking stuff, Potter would show up, and it would all begin again.

It was a vicious circle.

Come Friday evening, I was very close to tears, actually. Storming in through the portrait, I threw myself bodily into a sofa in the coldest, darkest part of the common room where no-one could see me, and lay there with my face rammed under a cushion.

Hey, it had been a very long week.

That was how Potter found me an hour later. And let me tell you, he scared the hell out of me when he poked me squarely in the stomach with no warning whatsoever.

"Ready to go, Evans?" he asked cheerfully, once I had gotten over my surprised squeaking fit. When I failed to give a response, he peeled the cushion away from my face, and stood there looking quizzically down at me.

"Go 'way," I muttered, trying as best as I could to hide my face in the arm of the sofa. He continued to stand there, looking at me, but when I glanced up at him he had turned around, and had his back to me. For a moment I wondered if he was going away, but then the next instant he had sat himself down on the sofa, his back leaning against my stomach, so it kind of looked like I was curled around him.

Which, with the current rumours circling about, I did not want at all.

"Get off!" I shrieked in a whisper (if that's possible) and kicked him with my legs. In response, he only leaned back and pinned me against the sofa. I kneed him furiously in the small of the back, then struggled into a sitting position. When I had finally freed my legs, I jumped up at once. He laughed lightly at me as I stood there brushing my skirt down.

"Knew that would get you up."

"Git," I muttered grumpily, picking up my bag and slinging it over my shoulder. Without waiting for him, I turned and made my way towards the portrait hole, and pretty soon I heard his thumping footsteps close behind me. As we climbed through the portrait together, I heard someone wolf-whistle, and the entire common room dissolve into laughter. Enraged, I made to turn back, but Potter pushed me through before I had a chance to say anything.

"Don't," he murmured, as the Fat Lady swung shut, "There's no point."

"No point!" I repeated loudly, glaring daggers at the stern Fat Lady raising her eyebrows at me, "It would make me feel better, and that's a bloody good point!"

"Trust me, Evans," he said, inclining his head, indicating for me to follow him as he started up the corridor, "They'd just find it hilariously funny and do it again."

I grudgingly walked with him, though I was still sorely tempted to stick my head back through the portrait and give the entire common room a piece of my mind. "How can you put up with it?" I burst out, after a few minutes of walking in silence. "How can you just take it so calmly? Then again," I added, narrowing my eyes at a couple of Ravenclaw's trotting past, "You're not the one who gets stalked by girls who all like throwing things at you…"

He shrugged. "Why do you care about what other people think of you?"

"I don't," I replied automatically. At his sceptical look, however, I relented somewhat. "Oh, alright, maybe I do. But it's hard not to care. Especially when people go out of their way to tell you what they think of you."

He nodded slowly, almost thoughtfully. "True. But for me, I would only care if the people I actually cared about myself hated me. Not about a load of girls not even sharing the same house as me."

Whoa. That was actually quite…deep. Coming from him, anyway. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. He was walking along, a serious sort of frown on his face, not even rumpling up his hair.

Odd. I realised I hadn't answered him. "Oh – absolutely," I said, trying to sound all wise and solemn, to match him. "Er – of course, if it were my friends who hated me, I would be devastated."

"Or family," he added, nodding.

"Or…family," I agreed faintly. An image of Petunia's sneering face flashed into my head, and I felt a rush of heavy, painful emotion build unexpectedly in my chest. She acted like she hated me, and she was my only sister…I hastily pushed the image away. For Merlin's sake, I hissed internally, stop acting like a bloody cry-baby.

"Hey, Potter," I said suddenly, my voice only shaking the tiniest bit, "Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

This was getting stranger by the minute: I was actually conversing civilly with Potter, like we did this every day. What was even weirder was that he was acting like it wasn't odd in the slightest. "Nah, not me," he said, shaking his head, "Only child. You?"

For a moment, I considered telling him all about Petunia. It was almost relaxing, walking along and venting my frustrations verbally, and he was totally taking me seriously, and really listening…but the second this thought occurred to me, I saw Professor Flitwick coming out of his classroom door, and the fact that I was on detention with Potter for goodness sake came crashing down around me. I pressed my lips tightly together, and didn't answer him.

"Miss Evans!" squeaked Flitwick, all happily at the sight of me. "And Mr Potter," he added with a touch less enthusiasm, catching sight of Potter behind me. Then his eyes flicked back to me. "I was ever so surprised to see your name on the list for detention with me, Miss Evans!" he squeaked shrilly, "I was almost certain it was a mistake!"

"Bet you was well shocked to see my name as well, eh, Sir?" smirked Potter, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets.

"Goodness, no!" said Flitwick, looking sternly up at him. "You must be trying for a record, Mr Potter. You and Mr Black have had more detentions more times than the Giant Squid has had soggy toast for breakfast." Without waiting for any sort of reply, he beckoned us both into the classroom, his tiny body only just managing to push the door open.

"How'd he find out?" whispered Potter to me as we both trooped in after him.

I shot him a disgusted look. "Are you saying that you actually are trying for a record?"

He grinned. "Why, aren't you?"

I decided it was beneath me to reply. Besides, Flitwick was facing us again now we were in his room, and it would have been rude to carry on talking.

"As you can see, my third year class left the room in a bit of a mess," he squeaks, gesturing to the ceiling.

"I'll say," murmured Potter, goggling at the ceiling, "What the hell did they do? It looks like an explosion at a slime factory in here…"

Potter's words just about summed it up. The ceiling and walls were covered, and I mean covered, in inch-thick puddles of grey-black slime. As I stood there looking up at it all, some of it oozed stickily down on a long, thin rope, before breaking off entirely and hitting the floor with a splat.

"Engorgement charms," sighed Flitwick, all sadly, "My third years were engorging slugs today, and some of them…went a bit too far." My stomach heaved slightly, a horrible image of a colossal slug exploding slime coming into my head.

"Don't tell me," Potter said weakly, "We have to clean that up?"

"Indeed," nodded Flitwick. "Observant as always," he added somewhat sarcastically.

"But how?" I asked, hiding a smile at Potter's nettled expression, "It's all on the ceiling, how can we get to it?"

"Oh, easily enough," replied our Charms teacher, "I have a spell which will enable you to walk freely around on the ceiling and walls. If you could both just pick up these buckets and scrubbing brushes - " here he gestured towards two bright red, plastic buckets full of soapy water, " – then I'll put the Charm in place." He raised his wand as me and Potter hastened to pick up the buckets.

I didn't much like the sound of this. As I stood there, clutching the slippery handle of the bucket, a thought suddenly occurred to me: if we were upside-down, then wouldn't my skirt go flying upside-down as well?

"Profess -"

"Reverso Antiamando!" Flitwick cried, twirling his wand with professional ease.

The effect was instantaneous. The room tipped crazily on its head, and my feet left the floor with a frightening lurch. I was hurtling through the air, towards the ceiling; the walls were speeding past me, Potter streaking downwards on my left side.

"ARRRRRRRRAAAAGH!" I screamed, clutching frantically onto his back, my fingernails digging into his skin. "STOPITSTOPITSTOPIT!"

"Good God, Evans," came Potter's derisive voice, "Get a grip!"

My breathing was tearing through my chest so fast it hurt my lungs. I was still clinging on like crazy to the only solid thing near me, and for some reason my vision was obscured by a large quantity of black…stuff. We had stopped falling. And…oh my God, I had gone blind!

"I'm blind, I can't see…" I moaned loudly, "Potter, where are you?"

"For Merlin's sake, Evans!"

The black stuff moved away, and suddenly, I could see again. I blinked, looking around. Then my eyes focused.

Somehow, horribly, I had ended up sitting in Potter's lap, with my head buried in his shoulder and clinging tightly onto his arm like a kid with a teddy bear.

"Urugh!" I said unintentionally, wriggling sideways to fall off his lap. "Merlin…"

Potter had rolled up his sleeve to examine his arm. "Merlin's beard, Evans!" he yelped, prodding at the skin, "You nearly dug through the skin with those damn nails!"

"Are you alright, up there?" came Flitwick's voice. I frowned, looked around, then finally looked up. My mouth fell open. Flitwick looked as though he was standing upside-down on the floor, which had now become our ceiling, with a load of tables and chairs dangling beside him. I had a horrible feeling all of those chairs would obey gravity soon and come crashing down around our ears…or would that be crashing up around our ears?

Urugh. It was odd, I didn't feel like I was upside down at all. I mean, the blood wasn't rushing to my head, and my skirt was staying thankfully in a downwards position.

Or would that be an upwards position…

"We're fine, sir," Potter called, waving up at him. I looked around, and realised I was sitting centimetres away from a huge slime puddle. Bleaaaugh. As slowly as I could, I carefully wriggled away from it.

"There is no need to look so scared, Miss Evans!" chortled Flitwick. "I think you'll find you could jump up and down on that ceiling and you wouldn't fall!"

Well, I don't think I'll be jumping up and down any time soon, thanks…

"Hey, cool!" said Potter, leaping to his feet at once. "I've got to try it!"

"Potter, no!" I shrieked, scrambling backwards…and putting my hand right into the slime puddle.

"Here I go!" he shouts, and jumps up…and, sure enough, his feet left the floor/ceiling, and came directly back down again.

"Cool!" he goes, looking mildly pleased with himself, "I just jumped on the ceiling."

I covered my eyes with my hands. The sight of Potter, jumping around like a House Elf on a sugar hit, in the middle of huge lakes of slug slime, while we were perched on the Charms classroom ceiling…was seriously messing with my brain.

And also making me feel faintly nauseous. Hmm, I wonder, if I was sick, which way would the vomit go…

Oh, bugger. I had just realised the hand I was using to cover my eyes had a large quantity of slug slime on it…I used my robe to wipe it away. Well, it would be getting pretty damn slimy soon enough, anyway.

"You may both start!" chirped Flitwick's voice, and we both looked up to see him beaming down at us. "I'll be right in my office next door. Shout if you need me!"

Or if we go plummeting down to the floor, I added silently. Tentatively, I reached out and picked out the scrubbing brush from the bucket, and gave an experimental scrub at the edges of the nearest slime puddle. When I pulled the brush away, the slime all stringed out, like pizza cheese…I couldn't prevent a shudder.

"S'up, Evans?" smirked Potter, dunking his hand into the bucket to get his scrubbing brush, "Afraid of a little slug-slime?"

"No," I replied shortly, "On the other hand, what I am afraid of is kneeling upside-down on the ceiling of a twelve foot high room!"

He snorted at that. "So you've never done this before?"

"Obviously. Why, have you?"

"Loads of times," he replied, surprising me with his answer, "Every time my Mum wanted to get rid of the cobwebs on the ceiling, she'd send me up there. I used to love it – never realised I could jump, though. It's an old house-work spell." He glanced up at my shocked expression. "Are you saying your parents never did that?"

"No," I muttered, keeping my eyes on scrubbing patterns through the slime, which was starting to dissolve, thanks to the solution we were using to clean it. "My parents aren't magical."

"Oh, yeah! I forgot that you're a Muggle-born."

For the second time that day, I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. He was cleaning in earnest now, though as I looked his eyes darted over to me for a split second, before looking away again. I wondered momentarily if me being Muggle-born mattered to him. Then I wondered why I was bothered about what he thought, anyway.

We lapsed into silence, the quiet only broken by the sound of brushes scrubbing on the old fashioned stone ceiling. I allowed my mind to wander, though my arm muscles were starting to ache rather badly. I wondered idly if Katy was done blaming me for Potter dumping her yet.

Yeah, yeah, I know what you're thinking. And I'd agree with you. Fat chance.

"You're thinking about Katy," said Potter suddenly.

I looked up at him, thoroughly freaked out. Potter can read my thoughts? "How the hell did you know that?"

He laughed. "Because you muttered 'Katy' to yourself just now."

Oh, great. I had turned into one of those people who said their thoughts out loud. I never even realised they actually existed. Until now, obviously. "Yeah, I was," I admitted. "Well, she did kind of hit me around the face. You don't forget something like that in a hurry."

"I know," he grinned, "Like when you slapped me a while ago."

Inexplicably, I felt my cheeks flare up. "Yeah, well, you deserved it," I muttered, ducking my head so my hair fell curtain-like over my face.

He laughed softly. "Can you even remember what you smacked me for? I certainly can't."

"Bloody typical," I hissed, and I looked up to see him staring at me. The candle-light from the floor lit his face up weirdly, turning his eyes into two shadowy pits, but when his head moved… I could just see his eyes glittering under the darkness, peering out at me. I stared at him, half mesmerised. His tousled head was bent slightly, inclined towards the ceiling as though watching the brush he was now sweeping through the slime, but the eyes gleamed constantly in my direction.

"Why did you dump Katy?" I found myself whispering.

"She got boring," came the reply, amid the swift, steady strokes of the brush. It occurred dimly to me that I should be cleaning as well, but I allowed the scrubbing brush to dangle loosely from my fingers, barely even acknowledging it.

"She was only good for one thing," said Potter matter-of-factly, sitting back on his knees and gazing straight at me. In that position, the whole of his face was thrown into sharp relief from the candelabra above. I could see his eyes quite clearly now, but the hypnotising sparkle never left them.

"Good for only one thing – meaning what?" I heard myself ask vaguely.

He smirked, cocking an eyebrow. "Meaning she had a nice pair of tits."

I gasped on reflex, outraged, and Potter winked at me suggestively, his eyes travelling very obviously down to my front.

Now, I'm not sure if that eye-wander was a joke or not. But there's only one thing a guy can hope to get when he stares openly at a girls boobs, joke or no joke.

Slap. My hand smacked automatically into the side of Potter's face with all the ease and grace of a professional diver. His head jerked backwards, teeth clashing audibly together. For a full moment, he stared away from me, his jaw clenched and breathing heavily through his nose. When he looked back, his eyes were blazing.

"Do that again and I'll hit you back. Harder."

A rush of heady adrenaline zinged through my body in hot tingles. Resisting the temptation to shiver, I stiffened my spine and glared at him. "You wouldn't dare."

He seemed to consider me thoughtfully for a moment, head cocked to one side, throwing his face into shadow once more. His brush swept idly along the floor, but I sensed the conversation was far from over yet. Oddly, I didn't even want it to be over.

"No," he said suddenly, "I probably wouldn't." The eyes gleamed at me. "But I will do this."

I was never exactly sure of what happened next. I couldn't recall seeing Potter moving, never even saw his face leaning towards mine. All I knew was that one moment Potter was kneeling in front of me, with his dark eyes dancing and sparkling in the candle light, and the next, his lips were pressed softly against mine.

James Potter was kissing me.

What? Ok – whoa! Freeze! Rewind! What the hell was going on?

I pulled away from him with a start, my lips oddly fiery. "What the hell was that?" I shot at him, holding my hand over my mouth, my heart thumping hard and fast.

He raised an eyebrow at me. "A kiss…" he said slowly, as though I was acting stupid.

"You just…kissed me!"

His expression was carefully closed and flippant. "Well done, Evans. Top marks."

I stared at him, horrified. "Why?"

He looked blankly at me, as though unable to believe I could ask such a stupid question. "Because I wanted to."

Because he wanted to.

"I don't suppose," I said furiously, my temper, sparked by a combination of embarrassment and pure shock, beginning to rise, "That at any point, you even considered if I had wanted you to kiss me?"

He shrugged, his eyes wide as though to say 'why on earth are you making such a fuss?' Then he stuck his hands in his pockets, and glanced over at me sideways.

"So, d'you fancy going out to Hogsmeade together tomorrow?"

I gaped at him, my mouth so wide it probably resembled a cave and virtual bats flew out of it.

He had just asked me out. Potter had just asked me out, after all of that.

I stared him straight in the eye. "Oh, erm, let me think," I began sarcastically. I paused. He was still looking expectantly at me. "NO!" I yelled at him, before picking up my brush and turning my back on him, scrubbing with a renewed vigour at the ceiling.

After that, we didn't say another word to each other for the rest of night. Which came as something of a relief.

0o0o0o0o0o0

(Keels over backwards) Well, that chapter didn't take me long...only about a week to finish and edit countless times. Anyway, with all the time I took to get this chapter to you, I would be only slightly offended if you didn't give me two minutes to tell me what you thought. So really go to town in your review, and write as much as you fancy! Tell me what you liked, hated, found funny, found lame, related to...I will be VERY happy if you do! (Beams in an encouraging yet slightly scary way)

Oh, and the computer broke down a couple of days ago. I nearly had a heart attack because I thought I'd lost all the work on here. Thanks to my wonderful brother though, it's up and running with all my work intact! So you kind of owe this chapter to him. Thanks a lot, Wayne.

Anyway...thank you also to all of you who reviewed last time! I LOVE YOU ALL!

Peace out

Bubbles xxx