The fresh term at Hogwarts was certainly the most buzz-worthy the students and professors had seen in years. If anything was more widely-discussed than Albus Dumbledore's peculiar choice for Head Boy, it was this year's choice for professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Professor Adder was as wide as he was tall and molded from pure muscle, with a young, plump face. Accustomed by now to a new Defense professor each term, few students even bothered to look up from their plates at the start-of-term feast when Professor Dumbledore introduced him. When he introduced himself, however, all eyes were on him. He noted that the "current situation" and "overall attitudes" at Hogwarts must be "repaired," though no one was really certain what was wrong to begin with. Some of the more shrewd students did not fail to notice that Professor Adder paid many indicative glances to the Headmaster, and by the middle of September it had become more or less clear to the student body that the delegation was less of a choice and more of an imposition.

Whether Professor Adder was Ministry Official or Death Eater, however, no one could be certain, but as far as the Head Boy was concerned the idea that the two could be confused was more alarming than any Death Eater teaching at Hogwarts.

The seventh-year in question could be found, one September morning, weaving through the sea of Hogwarts students swarming the corridors before their second lesson of the day. Though he'd grown over the summer and his face had lost some of its boyishness, his hazel eyes still peaked out from behind a pair of thin, square-rimmed spectacles, the arms of which still lost themselves in a spectacular black surfeit of helter skelter hair. He walked resolutely along, one of the few people at Hogwarts for whom the students bothered to step out of the way, with a golden badge gleaming on his breast.

But not much had changed, really: the tail of his crinkled white shirt still hung hopelessly out of his waistband; he had already spent a Saturday in detention for Transfiguring Professor Adder's trousers into a yellow tutu; he spent the night of the full moon the same way he had since fifth year; and he was, more than ever, Sirius Black's shadow (or perhaps it was the other way around).

James reciprocated pleasantly to a few passing hellos and how are yous, when halfway to Transfiguration he spotted a couple of second year boys wrestling over something small and gold.

"Oi!" he called sharply, cutting through the crowd and striding toward them. The boys immediately stood at attention, the taller one clutching at the golden object greedily.

"What's going on here?" he demanded.

The boys looked at each other nervously before the smaller one piped up, "Owen's stolen something from me and—"

"I only fancied a look—" the other interjected.

"I said when I'd finished with it—"

"You've had it for ages—"

"Whoa, whoa," said James, holding up his hands. "One at a time, lads. Let's see it then. What've you got, Owen?"

He held out his hand. James leaned forward slightly, towering over the two boys. Owen opened his hand to reveal a tiny golden Snitch.

James peered at him over his spectacles, and he knew that if Lily were here she would see what the boys probably could not: he was fighting his first instinct, as he was often forced to as a rule-enforcer—a most powerful urge to grin.

He cleared his throat. "Where'd you get that, Logan?"

The smaller boy answered softly, "Nicked it, Mr. Potter. Like you used to! I was going to give it back, I only wanted an ickle look—"

But James ignored his excuses. "Mister Potter?" he blustered, emphasizing every syllable. He stared, dumbfounded, at the culprits for a moment, and then shook his head. "Alright. You've had your fun. Give it here."

Owen quickly obeyed.

James surveyed the Snitch for a moment, then pocketed it and peered down at the second years. Owen and Logan looked back, attentive and silent, as if waiting to be dismissed.

"And fix your bleeding ties, lads, man alive!" he barked unexpectedly, plucking at Owens red and gold tie. The boys fumbled hurriedly with their ties, straightening their robes. "Show Gryffindor a bit of pride, eh? And don't be late for Defense Against the Dark Arts or Adder will have your heads. I might too, to be honest. Don't let me break my arse on the Quidditch Pitch this term just so we can lose the House Cup on account of your mucking around in the corridors. Go on then."

"Thanks, bye Mr. Potter!"

"See you around, Mr. Potter!"

James chuckled to himself as they scampered off.

"The funny thing about it," called a silky voice from behind him, and James whipped around as it continued, "Is your appalling hypocrisy."

Lily Evans was leaning against a stone pillar in the corridor, her arms crossed, her left foot tucked around her right ankle, and emerald eyes shining.

James's hand jumped to the back of his neck, and he rubbed it self-consciously. "Standing there all along, were you?"

"Yes. I had a wonderful view of the horrendously wrinkled shirt hanging out of your trousers as you reprimanded Owen and Logan about their ties."

"Ah. That's about where I expect your eyes to wander in my presence."

Lily didn't acknowledge this. "And your shoes are untied."

James bent low to tie his shoes, his eyes locked on Lily's. "You're very critical, you know, Evans. You'll make a most irritating wife someday."

"Well, you're very easy to criticize."

"Go on then," said James, standing up again.

"Perhaps you should watch your bloody language around second years, Head Boy."

"Oh, sod. Did I let a swear slip?"

"You said arse."

"Did I? Ah, I'm such a wanker."

"Yes, you looked a damned fool."

"What can I say, Evans; I'm sorry for fucking cursing."

Laughing, the Head Boy and Girl made their way to Transfiguration.

Yes, Lily had watched the entire exchange between James and the second-year Gryffindor boys. And she had watched him laughing with Sirius, Remus, and Peter in Potions the previous lesson. She had watched him wipe sweat from his brow when he hovered over his cauldron to check his potion's clarity. She had watched him bite his lip when he realized they had forgotten to add Alihotsy root. And, several paces behind him, Lily had watched him make his way to Transfiguration as he shouldered past his peers, cool and confident, arrogance turned to pride.

But James was, it seemed, hopelessly ignorant. He was usually too busy figuring out how best to handle his new responsibilities, fit them into lessons and Quidditch Practice, and painting the town red with Sirius, Remus, and Peter.

For the moment, Lily could easily forget how taken she was with James lately. It was Thursday, and lessons had ended for the day, but Professors McGonagall, Slughorn, Sprout, and Flitwick were expecting practice schedules for all extracurricular activities and clubs in the morning.

Of course, James was far too distracted, not with Quidditch, or other Head Boy duties, or homework, but with mucking around with Sirius while Alice, Maggie, and Libby watched and laughed.

"Forget Gobstone club schedules," said Sirius. "D'you know what we should do, mate? We should work out how to use your new powers for evil. You've got connections now. We should find a way to mess with Adder some more."

"I've already had a detention for that, cheers," said James darkly.

"What? It was your idea," said Sirius.

"Yeah, and I would have gotten away with it if you hadn't patted me on the back and said 'well done' straight away."

"Of course I said 'well done.' It was well done."

"Three disappearances this week," said Remus behind a copy of the Daily Prophet, "And you lot are going on about grown men in tutus."

"I don't care what they go on about, but not until James gets his arse down on the grounds to get this done."

"Can't you work on it here?" Libby asked.

"Yes, I am sure Potter will concentrate for more than 4 seconds with Sirius around. No offense, Sirius."

Sirius smiled like an insane person.

"Stuffy in here anyway," said James, getting to his feet and pulling a jumper over his head.

"Ready?" he asked Lily with a bright smile.

"Yes, yes, I've bloody been ready…"

"Alright, alright…"

It was early October, and James and Lily were lying on their bellies in a pile of crunchy, red-orange leaves under the large Oak by the lake. This was their location of choice for conducting "business" while the weather still permitted it, though they both donned jumpers, and Lily a plaid scarf.

They were lying close today, their elbows nearly touching and their arms occasionally grazing each other as they made their way through coordinating the schedules.

The truth was, James was looking so handsome these days that Lily had to will herself not to blush every time her eyes met his. Worse, Lily was certain the whole world was beginning to notice. James had never gotten more attention from the girls at Hogwarts, and it was disheartening to imagine herself as just another one of them. But she couldn't help it—James incorporated authority into the joke-cracking, mischief-making madness of his character with staggering ease. His Head Boy badge suited him far, far too well.

Perhaps she was deluding herself, but she was certain she caught him staring at her now and again in lessons, and several times she had approached the Marauders only to find them stop talking very abruptly, and it always left her with the distinct impression that they had been talking about her.

But, said a voice in her head, it's the MARAUDERS. OF COURSE they're talking about things they don't want other people, particularly the Head Girl, to hear.

To be fair, Lily was getting quite a lot of attention from the opposite sex herself. James made a point to joke about it every time he noticed this, and though he had stopped bullying people for the fun of it long ago, he didn't seem quite above publicly humiliating anyone that tried to pique Lily's interest.

"Evans, his forehead sticks out farther than his nose."

"Evans, he had the Jellylegs Jinx put on him in fourth year and it made him cry."

"Evans, he handles a wand about as well as he could a live eel. Covered in margarine."

"Well, I didn't say yes, did I, Potter?" Lily said in agitation on this late afternoon, making a note on the schedule, amazed that James had, yet again, found a way to get off-track. "I haven't seen anyone since Jasper, and that was ages ago. At least wait until something interesting happens to poke fun at me about my 'love life,'" Lily said, making air quotes. "Now can you focus? I'm exhausted and I'm dying for a meal."

"Yes, Miss Evans," James joked. But soon he was staring dazedly into the lake. A gust of wind ruffled his already untidy hair. The sun was setting, bringing out the gold in his eyes. The look in them made Lily regret sniping at him.

"You alright?" she asked.

"Fine," he said, then looked her square in the eyes. "Can I ask you something?"

Lily nodded.

"I guess, it's just...I know I pry a bit, but...I mean, I know it's not my business, and you're not still seeing him, but you and Jasper...did you erm...?"

"Did we kiss?"

He nodded.

"Why?"

"'I dunno. I wondered."

Although blushing and feeling reluctant to answer, Lily did not find it at all strange that James was coming right out and asking questions that were really none of his business.

"Just once. Last term."

"When exactly?" James asked, staring straight ahead and barely moving his lips.

Leaves crunched under Lily as she shifted uncomfortably. "It was that night we went to the Three Broomsticks. You remember? Your birthday."

Why did she feel so guilty? She watched James as he nodded slightly. He didn't look very surprised. Had Jasper told him everything?

"You were going out with Libby," Lily said abruptly, not really certain why she felt the need to add that part, nor why she did so with such a defensive note in her voice.

"Oh, don't worry, I remember when it was," said James, looking grumpy. "Brilliant. Now I know what you were thinking of when you produced such a cracking Patronus the next day," James said harshly. "Sneaking out of the Three Broomsticks with Jasper the Cornish Pixie for a tight-lipped snog under the stars."

Lily watched him cautiously for a moment. "Why are you being like this? Why are you even bringing it up."

"I…dunno," said James. "Sorry."

Lily had no idea why she said it—it just came out: "If you only knew what I was thinking of…"

"Well, now you've got to tell me," James said stiffly, still gazing into the lake.

Lily laughed. "I'll tell you if you promise not to laugh."

"Oh dear. What if I promise to try my hardest not to laugh? Because if you're going to tell me you thought of—I dunno—the coconut scent of Podmore's teased-up peacock locks and feather-combed panache or something—"

Lily laughed loudly. "Will you stop it about Jasper? It's nothing like that, you prat!"

"Alright then, I promise," James smiled.

"Well, I thought of…oh Merlin why am I telling you this?"

James rested his chin in his hands expectantly, looking rather like a child as he gazed at her.

Lily sighed as another gust of wind gave her a chill, carrying gold and amber leaves around and past them. She looked out over the lake, teetering on the edge of her own nerves, and took a deep breath.

"I thought of…well…d'you remember that night… the end of our fifth year? You found me on the grounds with Severus and his mates?"

"Yeah…" said James slowly.

"Well, I thought of that," she finished brusquely, very pink in the face.

James squinted into the setting sun, his glasses a sheet of glare. "Er—you thought of nearly getting your knickers cursed off by a load of mangy Death Eater wannabes? What are you like, Evans?"

Lily huffed, "Are you trying to misunderstand me today? No. I thought about…well, I was really scared that night, you know? The things I saw and heard…and after Severus and I had just had a falling out…and I knew he wouldn't have wanted me to get hurt, but I didn't really think he'd back me up either. And then you showed up, and I sort of thought, 'Okay. James Potter is here. I'm alright now.' It's difficult to put into words, but I was so relieved. Sort of like, 'someone's got my back, 100%.' I'll never forget that feeling."

"That you were going to be alright?"

"How heartened I felt, I suppose. After you turned up."

It was the loudest silence that had ever occurred, despite the rustling of leaves tumbling over the grass and falling into the lake. James stared at Lily for a while, in what could have been alarm. But after a few breaths, his expression softened. "Oh… So that's why it was…"

"Hm?"

"Nothing. Nothing…"

"Er—shall we crack on with scheduling?" Lily blurted.

James shook himself from his reverie and, voice cracking a bit, he agreed, "Yeah…yeah, sure. Spose we'll start with the groups with some student overlap?" he asked absently. He chewed on his lip, but not in concentration. Although Lily looked down at the schedule again, James stared ahead again, his glasses reflecting the rippling lake.

"Makes sense," Lily assured him breathlessly. "I know the Charms club and the band have a lot of overlap, so we'll have to coordinate those. And a lot of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team are also in the Chess club. And we don't want to cram more than two meetings in per evening, because it's just too much for old Filch to keep track of and he'll likely need to be reminded not to barge in at every practice telling kids to get to bed at 6PM. Plus, we'll want everyone to be able to head back to the Common Rooms by about eight..."

Lily looked up from the parchment for James's approval and found him watching her very intently, their faces mere inches apart. James did not turn away when Lily caught him staring, but kept his eyes locked unabashedly on hers.

Lily felt suddenly breathless, and she knew her cheeks were going scarlet. Neither of them said anything for several seconds, and Lily struggled to keep her eyes on James's; his gaze was smoldering.

A realization dawned on Lily, a call from somewhere deep inside that launched her senses into high alert, and before she even wrapped her mind around the words, she blurted them out. The question rang out across the lake, too quick for self-consciousness to catch it: "Are you about to kiss me?"

James's eyes widened, and he cast around for a moment for something witty, something clever or cool to say, but he abandoned this immediately. He knew it was not the time to try to impress her.

Lily watched his eyes move very slightly from side to side as he considered her, and he said the most honest thing he could think of. "I'm always about to kiss you, Lily."

The pair gazed at each other, both of them breathing audibly, no more than half a foot apart. Lily cleared her throat "I thought…"

"Go on," said James, voice low, husky.

"I thought you'd…I didn't think you looked at me that way. Not anymore. I guess I just figured I was sort of an awkward phase for you or something."

James laughed. "I've said it before and I'll say it again: you are the thickest clever person I have ever met." Lily laughed, and James brushed a few locks of her shining, claret hair out of her face. The world was still for a moment, as the hazel eyes fixed uncertainty on the green, both Gryffindors' cheeks so flushed they practically glowed.

Lily tried to form a reply, but her stomach was in knots, heart was in knots, throat was in knots, and James's mouth hovered so close to hers, Lily could almost taste it.

He paused for a second, then pressed his lips to hers. James kissed Lily; a long, deep, hungry kiss, pouring every kiss he had ever wanted to give her into this. Lily snaked one arm around his waist while the other ran up his back, collecting a handful of his shirt as she held James tightly, desperately to her. They did not break apart for a long time.

And in the lake, the schedules floated by.