Potter and I scrambled up to the portrait hole together, absolutely filthy, and having a friendly argument about whether or not I owed him my entire stock of Honeydukes sweets (three chocolate frogs and a box of fizzing whizbees), or if a packet of sugar quills, paid in weekly installments, would do.

"For exactly how many weeks would this go on?" I asked just outside the portrait hole.

"Until I feel I have been justly paid," he said. To the Fat Lady, he proclaimed, "Gilgamesh."

The portrait swung open, and he stepped back to let me through the portrait hole first. I rolled my eyes and climbed in, saying, "It's only been one lesson, Potter. Besides, if things go wrong, I'd stop payment."

"No arguments there," he retorted, climbing through behind me. "Course, nothing will go wrong. That's the Potter guarantee."

He stuck out his hand, all business-like, and I snorted. I shook his hand. "You're ridiculous."

He grinned, his hand still wrapped around my fingers. His hazel eyes had locked with mine, warming me from my dizzying head to my curling toes, and I felt my lips pucker up quite on their own.

Traitors!

He took a step towards me. We were close enough that it wouldn't take much movement for our lips to touch; we both just had to lean in at exactly the right distance for a kiss. The air between us seemed to spark, his breath tickling my cheek, my insides warm and expanding and longing, inching closer towards him.

I blinked slowly up at him, my eyelashes fluttering. I breathed in his boyish scent, letting it fill my lungs and plant a garden there. His hand around mine was setting my whole being ablaze. I felt engulfed in hazel flames—hazel, the color of his eyes…

Just one slight tip of the chin and—

"Oi! It's about time you got in," called Jen, rounding on us from behind the staircases that led up to the dormitories. Startled out of our very hormonal skins, Potter and jumped a meter apart.

Jen smirked. "Hello, Potter."

"Alright, Tills," he answered, nodding at her, ruffling a hand through his hair nervously. "Reckon I'd better turn in." He turned to me, and, not quite meeting my eyes, said, "Night, Lily."

"Night, James," I answered, a blush creeping up my neck.

He smiled back at me shyly. "Night," he directed at Jen, then pushed past us and made his way to the staircases.

As soon as we heard the door to the seventh year boys' dormitories close behind him, Jen and I turned to each other, identical looks of disbelief etched on our faces.

"Lily?" I said.

"James?" she said with equal incredulity in her voice. "Since when are you two on a first name basis?"

I was too overwhelmed to explain the intimacies we'd shared on a broom, so I went for hyperbole.

"Since just now, when we had sex in a broom cupboard. Makes sense, actually."

Jen's eyes nearly popped out of her head. "WHAT?!"

I nearly choked from laughing so hard. "Ah, you should've seen your face!"

She narrowed her brown eyes and smacked my arm. I only laughed harder. "You deserved that."

"Sorry. I just couldn't help it." I wasn't sorry. It'd been worth it. "But it is strange, isn't it?"

"He called you Lily. And you called him James. It wouldn't be such a big deal, except—"

I nodded. "Except we—we haven't always been on the best of terms. Well, it turns out he's not as big of a prat as I thought he was."

"Newsflash," she said sarcastically. "What were you doing up so late together, anyway?" Then, pulling a face, said, "You smell."

"Oh, cheers, mate," I retorted. "He was tutoring me."

"Potter? Tutor you? In what?"

I bit my lip. "In the one thing in which I'm just total rubbish."

Jen huffed impatiently.

"Flying, alright? He was teaching me how to fly."

She crossed her arms across her chest. "You told him?"

"I couldn't lie to him! He's a clever bloke; he would have figured it out somehow. Besides, who better to teach me to fly than the Captain of the undefeated Gryffindor Quidditch team for the last four years?"

"Fair point," she conceded. "Although, I do remember you saying something about how it was luck that's gotten Potter so many straight wins year after year."

I bit the inside of my cheek guiltily. I had said that, back when I thought Potter was a git that didn't deserve any of the praise he got. As far as I was concerned, he was a stuck up, spoiled little snot that got away with everything just because his parents could afford to get him out of trouble, and he could charm the pants off of everyone with a friendly prank and a few jokes. Also, he was top of the class and I never saw him revise for anything, so obviously, he had to be cheating.

I mean, one person can't have everything, right? He couldn't be popular, charming, mischievous, rich as royalty, and an actual genius child prodigy!

It wasn't fair.

It was too much talent and privilege for one human being.

But after tonight, after a few hours of flying with him, of learning him, of feeling his heartbeat, his breathing, his laugh against my cheek—things were a little different.

Firstly, I could fly.

We'd gone over and over it and made sure I could get on the broom correctly, descend properly, balance steadily, and I even flew up as high as the top of the stands on my own (before losing my nerve and coming down to a reasonable height).

James had been incredible. We flew side by side, racing by the end of it all, laughing, and having a good time. "No one will ever know you've just learned how to fly," he'd said. "Just try and stay out of the spotlight, and you'll be fine."

Secondly, he made my whole body buzz. I was definitely attracted to him, there was no denying that, but it was Potter. James. It was just James. I pushed the thought away beneath another creeping blush.

I met Jen's gaze and smiled sheepishly. "Yeah…" I trailed off. "Well, we should know I'm a rubbish judge of character by now."

Her gaze softened, likely catching my meaning (Severus), and she smiled gently at me, placing an arm around my shoulders. "No, you just like to give people the benefit of the doubt."

"But never James," I said, frowning.

Jen laughed. "Well, you are now, and I reckon that's all that matters."

"S'pose so."

Jen leaned in to give me a side-hug. She pulled back and shot me a look of disgust. "Ugh, you really do smell, you know. It's a good thing I stopped Potter from kissing you earlier, or it would have been a tragedy. You should get in the bath straight away!"

I spluttered, a total heap of nerves and panic. "You saw that?! You absolute arse!" I finally managed.

She laughed, pushing me all the way to the girls' shared bath.

I can't believe she'd seen that and interrupted us, anyway!

Some best mate she is!

"What, did you actually want him to kiss you?" she asked when we'd gotten through the threshold.

The shared bath was made up of various shower stalls along one wall, a row of sinks and mirrors opposite them, and stacks of freshly laundered towels and robes piled on shelves and hanging from hooks. I plucked a towel off a shelf and made my way into a shower stall.

"I don't know," I answered honestly, closing the wooden stall door behind me.

"Would you have let him kiss you if I hadn't walked in on you?" her voice called through the stall.

I turned on the water, hot steam rolling pleasantly through the air.

"Lily?" she called.

"I'm thinking about it!" I said, stepping out of my dirty socks and into the shower.

James had grasped my hand, stepped closer to me, sent my whole body into a daze. It'd been that way earlier in the day in Potions, when I'd wanted to hug him, and then again when he'd wrapped himself around me on the broom. I had this sensation in my chest, a blooming inflation of hope that my poor little body couldn't possibly contain, and the only way it would stop hurting was if he was closer, if he was near me.

So when he'd leaned in, I'd been ready. I'd wanted James to kiss me.

The realization scared me more than flying high above the Quidditch stands.

"Any day now," Jen pestered through the stall's slatted door.

I deliberated with myself for another second, concluding that I didn't actually fancy James—I was just high on endorphins from flying. Kissing him would have been a huge mistake.

Kissing him would have led him to think there were feelings attached to my lips—and it was only hormones, as far as I could tell.

That was all! Kissing James, without knowing how I felt about him, wouldn't have been fair to him.

"No," I answered finally, a sinking feeling in my stomach. "You did the right thing, Jen. Thanks."

"Thought as much."

I'd lied to my best mate before, but she had always been able to call me out on it. This time, the truth was too farfetched for her to even begin forming suspicion.

Even though I was exhausted and happily sore after my flying lesson with James, it still took me a full half hour before I finally fell asleep.

My mind was rushing through thoughts and sorting through feelings. I was asking myself all kinds of questions.

If I wanted to do a nosedive tomorrow, exactly how would I manage that? I'd forgotten to ask James.

He made me forget a lot of things, actually. Like the fact that I don't actually like him.

He was helpful, yes, and quite attractive, and game for a laugh, although it was sweet of him not to have a go at me when I'd so clearly given him the perfect opportunity to do so, and—what was my point again?

Oh, right.

I don't actually like him.

I just wanted him to kiss me because flying is such a new and harrowing experience that it's only natural I'd attach my feelings of exhilaration to a person instead of flying itself. I'm still petrified of flying out of habit, but really, all these positive feelings are a result of learning to fly properly and conquering my fears—James has nothing to do with them.

I like flying.

I don't fancy James.

We're classmates and partners in Head duties at best.

Nothing more.

Nothing.

I should have known that apart from learning how to nosedive, James and I had forgotten to cover one other important subject on the pitch.

"So, Prongs keep you out late last night, eh?" said a smirking Sirius Black from across the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall.

It was breakfast, and he was piling eggs and fried tomatoes on his plate.

"We didn't break curfew," I answered coyly, as I spread jam on a scone.

His smirk deepened. "So I s'pose you've learned a lot, then," he said, nonchalantly.

"Oh yes, lots," I replied, slathering some clotted cream on the other half of my scone. I hadn't been paying him much attention as I pushed the two halves together, ready to enjoy a bite.

He swallowed a mouthful of egg and flashed me a grin. "Excellent. So you wouldn't mind if the boys and I joined you this afternoon? I'd like to see what you've been able to pick up in an evening."

I blinked at him, my scone halfway to my mouth. What?

"What?" I asked.

Unfortunately for me, Marlene had been listening in and she laughed. "Course you can join us, Black! Judging by the length of the lesson, I'd say Lily's ready to take you on!"

"What?" I asked again, but to no avail. No one was paying me any mind.

"You're on," Black said, reaching his hand across the table.

Marlene took it and grinned toothily. "You're gonna regret this, Black."

"Doubt it," he shot back, and he went back to his breakfast.

"Sorry, what are the pair of you going on about?" asked an irate Mary. She was busy finishing up her Arithmancy problems, procrastinator that she was.

"Hippogriff," answered Marlene, shrugging. "We've a game this afternoon, remember?"

My eyes widened.

Of course!

Hippogriff!

I'd completely forgotten about the game! Stupid, stupid Lily!

All this time I'd been obsessing over whether or not I fancied James and the idiot wanker hadn't even taught me the thing he said he'd teach me in the first place!

And I'd gotten distracted by a stupid, didn't-happen, never-happening kiss?!

Honestly! Where was my head?

James walked through the doors then, and before I knew what I was doing, I was wrapping my scone in a napkin and heading right for him. He smiled at me, but the light in his eyes dimmed slightly as he registered that I was on a warpath and he was my target.

"You tosser!" I accused, poking him in the chest.

Smartly, he said, "Sorry?"

"You forgot to teach me Hippogriff! And now I have to play in a game against you and your idiot, tosser mates because they think that's what we'd done all last night!"

He sighed. "Lily, you could barely stay on a broom without making a kebab of yourself."

He may have been right, but I ignored him. "You have a free period after the first block, correct?"

He nodded. "Yes, but I'm—"

"Whatever you're doing, cancel it. Because you're teaching me Hippogriff, and no one will know the difference this afternoon!"

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration and sighed. "Fine," he said finally.

"Too right!" I exclaimed. "Meet me in the Entrance Hall."

"Yes, ma'am."

I glared at him, but he only shrugged me off and made his way to the table. I'd made too much of a scene to join him, so I went up to the second floor corridor and ate my scone on an abandoned bench as I tried to calm down from the ridiculous anger-panic that had just consumed me.

I felt like such an idiot.

The humiliation of Operation Fire Dragon was never-ending!

"Well, well, well, look what we have here," said a snarling voice from down the corridor.

It was Bellatrix Black with Nott, Severus, and Yaxley behind her.

"Looks like the tetchy Mudblood who had a go at you on the Quidditch pitch, Nott," said the gravelly voice of Yaxley.

Severus remained quiet.

I glanced at them all, standing there, the picture of intimidation, and I could have almost laughed at how rehearsed it all appeared. However, I was scared shitless in the moment, and struggling to find the upper hand. "I thought you would have told them, Black," I said, finally, my eyes lingering on Bellatrix's face languidly, coolly, before landing on Yaxley. "It's Head Girl to you."

Bellatrix laughed. "Told you she was funny, didn't I?"

Nott sneered, a cruel smile on his lips. "You're going to pay for what you did, Head Girl." His voice was nasally and unusually pitched.

"I think you'd better be careful about who you threaten, Nott," I replied nonchalantly, getting up from the bench and walking slowly to him.

He stepped towards me, wand in hand. "I think I'll take my chances."

I reached for my own wand in my robes' pocket, and smiled hugely. "Then for your sake, I hope they're better than your attempts at the Wronksi Defensive Feint."

The resulting glowers from both Bellatrix and him were totally worth it.

"Why don't we settle this on the Quidditch pitch, eh?" said another voice from down the corridor.

Oh no, oh no!

"Well, if it isn't my blood-traitor of a cousin," said Bellatrix, leering openly.

"Hello, Slag," Sirius Black replied sunnily. He came up behind the group of Slytherins, who parted for him, as though afraid they might catch whatever Gryffindor-ish qualities he had.

Bellatrix glared at him as he sauntered to my side. "What's this about the Quidditch pitch, then, dear cousin?" She said "cousin" as though it were an insult. I suddenly understood what Black had meant by having a fucked up home life last night.

Black ignored her. "We're set to play a game of Hippogriff this afternoon. Why don't you join us and settle this dispute once and for all?"

Good Godric, no!

Bellatrix considered this, but she glanced at me and smirked. "I don't think the little Mudblood will survive. Look at her—she's already panicking!" She let out a shrill, bloodcurdling laugh.

The other Slytherins in her party openly rejoiced in this knowledge, baring their teeth in a pennant banner of smug smiles.

I narrowed my eyes at her. "Afraid you'll lose to a Mudblood, Black?" I spat.

"Oh!" she exclaimed in glee. "Not at all, dear, but what do I have to look forward to when I do win?"

"She'll apologize to me," cut in Nott. "And she'll answer to 'Mudblood.'"

"In your dreams, Nott. When I win, I get to hex your mouth shut every time you forget to call me Head Girl."

What the bloody hell was I doing? I couldn't play a game of Hippogriff against the Slytherin Terrors and place a bet on it! That was gambling! I was Head Girl, for Merlin's sake!

Bellatrix and her cronies conferred to consider the arrangement and now I had to live with whatever decision they made.

I still didn't even know what in the bleedin' hell the game was about!

I pulled Black aside. "You had better help me win this!"

He rolled his eyes. "Evans, you know very well that you won't fuck this up."

"Oh, dearie!" Bellatrix called.

Black pulled away from me and towards his mad-looking cousin.

Yikes. I mean, imagine having to be related to that.

She was grinning maniacally again. "We have a deal."

"See you on the pitch," Black said.

Bellatrix cackled, no doubt remembering her thinly veiled threat to me when she'd said the exact same words just yesterday in the library. She turned on her heel and made for the staircases, Yaxley and Nott following suit.

Severus hesitated for a moment, looking as though he were itching to say something, but instead, he simply gave a curt nod in farewell and took his leave.

I turned to Black and smacked him in the side. "You idiot!" I hissed.

"I didn't exactly see you resist!" he returned, clearly affronted.

"I didn't have a choice!" I rejoined.

He frowned. "Why are you so worried, anyway?"

I groaned. "They're going to eat me alive on the pitch."

"Don't sell yourself so short, Evans. You've got more flying ability in your little finger than the entirety of Slytherin House combined."

I snorted. "I only wish that were true."

He grinned. "Well you can do a wicked Wronski, yeah?"

I almost hesitated, but nodded. "Yeah."

"And Prongs taught you how to play Hippogriff last night! That's all you'll need. James is an excellent captain. I'm sure you won't disappoint. Besides, with me and the boys on your team, this game of Hippogriff will be a piece of steak-and-kidney pie."

I cocked my head to the side, confused.

He shrugged in response. "I really like steak-and-kidney pie." He led us into the Arithmancy classroom, and continued to talk about a rivalry he held with Frank Longbottom over steak-and-kidney pie.

Merlin. How do I get myself into these things?

As soon as Arithmancy was over, and I'd copied down the homework for the week, I raced down to the Entrance Hall, impatient to get started on my flying lesson with Potter.

I had to learn how to play this game. I needed to learn how to play well and dominate. And most importantly, I really needed to learn not to let my temper or my pride get the best of me. This was getting ridiculous.

Potter trudged down the staircases five minutes later. He was still taking Divination for some ungodly reason, and smelled of incense and smoked sage.

"Good Godric, man, what are they doing in that tower?" I asked, waving my hands about at the smell.

He shrugged. "It's supposed to clear away negative energy. Seems to be working," he replied, as a group of second year Slytherins gave him a wide berth.

"That'll be the smell, James," I declared.

I froze to the spot, suddenly aware that I'd called him James. He seemed to freeze, too, and we just stood there for several long moments, while I scrambled for something—anything—to say.

"Your idiot mate is totally mental," I blurted.

James started. Apparently he wasn't expecting that. "What?"

"Your friend Black just invited Bellatrix, Nott, Yaxley, and Snape to a game of Hippogriff to settle the serious offense I made against Nott on Tuesday."

"Shit," he murmured under his breath.

"Exactly. Do you see how utterly barmy he is yet?"

He fidgeted with his glasses and shook his head. "He may be barmy, but he's under the impression that you're a wicked flyer, Evans, and that's all your fault."

Ouch. I have to admit that that actually stung. I mean, not only did he just call my bluff, but he also reverted to calling me "Evans" when I'd very obviously—and recently!—called him "James."

"Come on, let's get this over with," he said, walking out the large front doors and towards the Quidditch pitch.

Ouch, ouch, ouch.

Let's get this over with?!

What crawled up his arse and laid a poo in it this morning?

He picked out a pair of Cleansweeps for us from the broom shed on the outskirts of the pitch, and immediately mounted his broom and flew to the stadium. I scoffed after him. I couldn't believe he'd just abandoned me!

I willed my body to remember everything from the night before. I mounted the broom, gripped the neck, kept my wrists turned out, kicked off the ground, pointed my toes, and sat straight up, getting my balance as I steered carefully towards the pitch.

I wobbled just slightly, only once, and righted myself with minimal effort.

"Good, you're catching on well," said James once I'd finally reached him. He was in the middle of the green, sitting atop an old, rusting trunk.

"All thanks to you," I said, smiling sheepishly. I dismounted my broom and made my way toward him.

He gave a short nod in acknowledgement and went back into Captain Mode. "Part of Hippogriff is a bit like jousting, but with Bludgers and beaters' bats. You'll have a second who will keep the Bludgers away from you, until the crucial moment when you can actually aim a Bludger at your opponent."

I blinked.

What the ever-living fuck had I just got myself into?

"You're kidding," I said.

"'Fraid not," he replied. He got up from the trunk and flipped the lid open. Inside were five Bludgers and ten bats. "This is the school's standard line Hippogriff set. There are only two left. It got banned as an official Hogwarts sport after an incident that resulted in a few rogue Bludgers attacking defenseless spectators in the stands."

I gawked. "Then how are we even allowed to play it during Operation Fire Dragon?"

"We just need permission," he replied, a slight twitch at the corners of his lips.

"Who from?" I asked.

Finally, for the first time that day, he smiled at me. "From the Head Boy and Head Girl."

Whaaaaaaaaaaat.

I gaped. "Oh my Godric, can we not, then?"

He sighed. "Lily, be sensible. How much sense would it make to call off a game of Hippogriff that you yourself help set up?"

Lily! Hurrah, he'd called me "Lily" again! I only celebrated for a millisecond because then I registered what he'd said.

"You want to get them off your back, don't you?" he continued. "It would finally give you peace of mind, wouldn't it?"

I sighed, pouting. I refused to give a definite answer and went for complaining. "But does it have to be with a game of Hippogriff of all things? Frankly, the game alone sounds more dangerous than being cornered by the lot of them."

"Not if I'm your second," he rejoined. "I'll make sure you hit your target."

I groaned, running my hands down my face. "Oh my Godric, of course you will, because if you don't, then that means I get hit, doesn't it?"

James nodded solemnly, though his eyes flickered with amusement.

"James, this isn't funny! I'm about to have a wizard's duel MIDAIR, when I've just learnt how to fly last night; I may die from this—I could die from this, the possibility is definitely there!—and you're having a go at me!"

Apparently, that particular combination of words had the exact effect of making him go mad with laughter. He was doubled over, wheezing with the effort of breathing whilst openly guffawing, until there were no sounds coming out, just bursts of air out of a gaping, laughing, mouth.

"What the hell is so amusing?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. I did not take well to being laughed at!

"You—you actually—you believed what I said! Every word of it!" he chortled.

I felt my cheeks heat up. I was sure I looked like a radish with hair. "What do you mean?"

"I was only joking," he said. "There's no jousting—I just couldn't resist to see how you'd react!"

I walked right up to him and smacked his arm. "You absolute wanker!"

He held his hands up in defense, eyes shining with unshed tears, a huge, shit-eating grin stretching his lips. "I'm sorry, Lily. You made it too easy."

"Oh yes, it's so easy for a Pureblooded wizard to make fun of the fact that as a Muggleborn, I have zero clue what sort of fucked up games you wizards can come up with!" I smacked his other arm, and he jumped out of the way. "Apparently, they can be very fucked up!"

This time, he seemed to understand that he might have crossed the line. "I'm sorry, Lily. I didn't mean to make you feel, erm…" he trailed off, looking all the world like a lost puppy. He set his steady hazel gaze on mine. "I really am sorry."

And then, it happened again. That traitorous warm feeling that let him take my hand in his last night, let him envelop my fingers in his grasp, let him pull me to him—that blooming, indescribable balloon of something in my chest that wouldn't ever stop trying to escape me unless he was within my reach. Our eyes locked. In the midday sunshine, I could make out flecks of green and gold in his eyes.

He was getting closer again—or was I getting closer to him?

I couldn't tell.

Just one more step and—

But I didn't fancy James!

I blinked, breaking the spell between us. "Honestly, I might have done the same thing," I admitted.

He cocked his head to the side, a small smirk residing on his lips. "Really?"

"Especially the way I spoke to you this morning," I continued.

Wait, hang on. Now I was apologizing? WHY?

"You were just panicked," he said, waving it off.

I shrugged. "You didn't deserve it. I'm sorry for that."

He grinned. "Alright, well back to the lesson, eh? We've got a lot to cover, and very little time. How do you feel about skiving off History of Magic?"

"Can we do that?" I asked. The thought had honestly never occurred to me before.

"'Course we can! And, we can even blame it on Head duties. Binns wouldn't notice if a bunch of kneazles turned up instead of students, anyway."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "Just how many times have you used 'Head duties' as an excuse to skive off, James?"

James grinned a crooked grin. "It would never work without you in on it, Lily."

His eyes, that look, the warmth was seeping through me again. I had to get a hold of my senses!

I cleared my throat. "Let's just see how it goes for now," I said. "If there's no way I can beat Nott at Hippogriff by lunchtime, then we'll see about having an emergency Heads meeting during Binns's class, eh?"

He laughed.

"So what exactly is Hippogriff, anyway?" I asked, picking up my Cleansweep.

James closed the trunk of Bludgers and Beaters' bats and chuckled. "I'm so glad you asked." He swung a leg over his Cleansweep and flew around me in a tight circle, whipping up a whirligig of wind about my hair and robes.

"Hippogriff is what we wizards like to call relay drag broom racing."

I cocked my head in suspicion. "Are you taking the piss out of me again?"

He laughed and descended in front of me. "I wouldn't try that twice. Trust me."

I bit the inside of my cheek, my lips protruding thoughtfully as I considered it. Trust James.

Trust James Potter.

It was either trust James Potter or let all of Slytherin House call me a Mudblood to my face and not be able to do anything about it. I mean, they sort of did that already, anyway, but at least I could take away House points and defend myself. I still had my pride.

Without a win—without James Potter's help—I wouldn't even have that. I wouldn't have the one thing that got me into this mess in the first place.

I nodded and looked up at James, careful not to lock eyes with him lest that hopelessly romantic balloon in my chest began to swell at the flecks of gold in his irises and I was rendered completely out of my wits.

"Right," I said, straddling my Cleansweep. "Show me how to win."

James beamed, and I tried to convince myself that the blooming feeling in my chest had everything to do with my steep angle of ascension into the air and nothing at all to do with the way his eyes crinkled just so when he looked at me.