A/N: Happy Halloween everyone! Anyone have an amazing/creative/HP-related (which is by default both of those other things) costume they'll be busting out tonight? I already went to a couple of parties yesterday (as Catwoman—the theme was superheros/supervillains—so I'm just being lame tonight and staying in).

A thousand thanks to last week's reviewers: SeriouslySiriusBlack, A La DarkAngel, miskadatoad, BrokenFaerie16, existence555, ZoneSystems, SucksRoyalHippogriff (love the name, btw—Goyle rules!), iKKxLee52, marinewife08, Cassie Weasley, LilyxJames, Taylorcutie, mee, lasting illusion, MaryandMerlin, and VaneBEAR!

Chapter 12: Give In

I stumbled backward, my cheek stinging, as Chloe growled, "Nothing to worry about my ass!"

As she turned away again towards the girls' dormitories, I pulled out my wand angrily.

"Lily, what are you doing?" Mary demanded, pulling my arm down before I could aim a hex at Chloe's retreating back.

"The bitch just slapped me!" I retorted indignantly, trying to raise my arm again.

But Mary pinned it firmly against my side. Her strength surprised me sometimes. "You know she's not worth it, Lil," she reprimanded me.

I sighed. "Fine. You're right—I don't want to stoop to her level." I started for the portrait hole.

"Where are you going?" Mary asked.

"To find Potter," I said, already cursing my guilty conscience.

"Why?"

"Because I think they just broke up because of me." And without explaining further, I left the common room.

I didn't have far to look—my quarry was leaning against the wall a few feet from the portrait hole, hands in his pockets and eyes trained on the floor. He looked up as I approached, a what-the-hell-are-you-doing-here look in his eyes.

"Um, hey," I started lamely. Potter continued to stare at me, his head now tipped slightly to the side questioningly. "So, you two break up?"
"Yep," Potter said, lifting one shoulder as though to show he could care less.

I raised an eyebrow. "I can see you're pretty cut up about it."

Potter shrugged with both shoulders this time. "Sorry, but why are you here?"

That's a valid question. Yes, Lily, why are you here? Oh, wait, that's me—I have to answer that. "Well, you know . . ." I trailed off hopefully.

"No, I really don't," Potter replied, starting to look a little amused.

Well at least he's not going to slap me too, I thought ruefully. "I . . . er . . . all that stuff Chloe had in her hands, those were my letters right?" I asked suddenly, realizing I'd never actually clarified this fact.

Potter nodded. "I still don't see where this is going . . ."

"So, er, I guess I kind of felt like all this was my fault, so I wanted to apol—"

"What?" Potter said, looking at me like I was crazy. "Are you crazy? How can you possibly twist any of this so that it's your fault? Because trust me, Evans, there's no way it is. Chloe's the one who apparently can't handle that I can, in fact, be just friends with a girl—and I know, we're not friends, but—"

"Well, you didn't write to her last week, did you?" I asked, not sure why I was trying to defend Chloe's side.

"She was here, so, no," Potter said.

"Oh, right."

He sighed. "Anyway, what with this and all the stuff with Sirius before . . . honestly, I probably shouldn't have even started dating her in the first place."

Now he sounded more appropriately dejected for someone who'd just broken up with his girlfriend. Even if she was the shallow-bitch-girlfriend-from-hell, to borrow some of Sirius's phrasing. "Come on, I bet most people could say that about any relationship they've been in that's ended, but that would be awfully silly, wouldn't it?"

Potter gave me a considering look. "I guess," he said finally. "But I still don't understand how she got the idea in her head that . . . er . . ." he gestured between us awkwardly.

"That there was something going on between us?" I asked frankly. Potter looked surprised at how easily I'd offered up this completion of his sentence. I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, apparently there's something like that going around—at least, Marlene asked me about it almost the second after I got back—"

Potter's eyes widened suddenly. "Marlene!"

"Er, yeah, that's what I said—"

"No, I mean, she's the one who—did you get that note—"

"The one in my bed?"

"Er, I guess," Potter said, his cheeks going slightly pink. "I didn't really tell her where to put it . . ."

"So that's how you got it up there? You gave it to Marlene? Well, that's more comforting than thinking you could get into the girls' dormitories."

Potter smirked. "Doesn't mean I can't."

I glared at him.

"Anyway, I guess she jumped to conclusions a bit."

"No, she was just being Marlene. Seriously, you could have given me a blood sucker as a prank and she'd somehow decide it meant you wanted to marry me."

Potter grinned. "Right, well, sorry about that."

I shrugged. "Really, I could care less what she thinks—and to be honest, I think it ultimately worked out worse for you."

He wrinkled his nose. "I suppose." Then the grin sprang back onto his face. "So, you truly don't care that there are rumors floating about that I'm madly in love with you?"

"Well, first, I don't think it's quite that drastic. And besides, I think it'll fade away quickly after whatever comes out of tonight, don't you?"

"Yeah, you're probably right."

"Rumors aside, I have to say that you're taking all of this much better than Chloe did."

Potter raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

"Well, the minute she came back, she walked straight over and slapped me."

Potter pressed his lips together and struggled for several seconds not to laugh. Needless to say, he wasn't successful.

I shoved him lightly. "Thanks for the sympathy," I grumbled.

"Sorry," he said, still laughing. Attempting to straighten his face, he added, "No, really, I am—I mean, she didn't even hit me."

"Well, maybe if I'd snogged her face off for a few months it would've changed the outcome," I said. If it had been anyone but Potter, I never would have said something so insensitive, but I had a feeling he would take it in stride, as he did everything else.

Proving my point, Potter laughed again. Then he winced a little and said, "I probably shouldn't be laughing at that, huh?"

"As it was kind of a veiled insult, no, probably not," I said breezily.

We were quiet for a minute. "I still can't believe she slapped you," Potter said after a while, almost to himself.

I raised my eyes to the ceiling. "Right. Listen, can I ask you something?"
"Shoot."

"So, I've been thinking—"

"You? Thinking? Never," Potter said sarcastically.

I crossed my arms. "Can I finish? Anyway, what I've decided is that . . . I think . . . I could try being friends with you. If you want." I chanced a look at him out of the corner of my eye, and he was giving me that considering look again.

"You're not just saying that because you feel guilty about Chloe, are you?"

I frowned at him. "No."

"I mean, you're actually serious, right?"

"Yes of course I'm—look, do you want me to tell you something I was only going to tell Mary, and maybe not even her, to prove it?"

"How could I say no to that?"

I was already regretting this. "Sirius offered to kiss me at midnight."

Potter just stared at me.

"I mean, it was a joke—at least, I think and hope it was—and, come to think of it, he probably would have just told you himself, so I don't know how much of a point I'm making telling you—"

"Hold on, you lost me at 'Sirius offered to kiss me.' I'm going to need a minute to process that. No, change that, more like the rest of the night. Or month. Possibly even year. In fact, I might never—"

"Okay," I interrupted loudly. "I get it. You can stop making fun of me now."

"I'm not, actually—no, Evans, you're the one I'm least likely to mock in this situation." He paused. "Merlin, Padfoot must be drunker than I thought."

I punched his arm. "Thanks a lot."

Potter grinned at me. "Well, we should go wake up Wormy, see if he'll snog you, then you'll have a full set."

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, first, I didn't actually, nor am I intending to, kiss Remus or Sirius, and second, you've left yourself out of the equation." What? Why did I say that? That makes it sound like I want to kiss him!

To my relief, however, Potter didn't miss a beat in replying, "Oh, well, I already knew you'd rather tie a large rock to your foot and jump into the ocean than kiss me, so I just automatically eliminated myself."

"You know me so well," I said jokingly.

"See, I told you we could be friends."

"Yeah, we'll see."

"What do you mean 'we'll see'? You were the one who suggested it in the first place."

"Well, you haven't annoyed me—much—this entire time we've been talking, so that's a promising start. Anyway, I suppose we should get back?" I jerked my thumb at the portrait hole behind me.

"Yes, who knows how many break-ups and midnight kiss proposals we've missed standing out here," Potter said as we started for the common room.

I glared over my shoulder at him but didn't reply. "Mistletoe Berries," I said to the Fat Lady, who swung open to admit us. Before I could step into the room, however, Potter grabbed my arm.

"Is Chloe still in there?" he asked.

"I don't think so—I think she went up to the dormitories."

"Well, just check, will you?"

"Coward," I muttered as I scanned the room. "I'm the one she slapped."

"Right, and I have a feeling mine's coming, but I'd rather avoid it as long as possible."

Not spotting her, I turned back to Potter. "You're in the clear."

"Good. Thanks, Evans."

"What are friends for?" I asked sarcastically as we rejoined the party.

"Prongs! Where've you been?" Sirius demanded, stumbling to a stop in front of us. "I've been lookin' all over for ya!"

Potter rolled his eyes. "I'm sure you have," he said.

"I thought you were going to miss it!" a new voice shouted as Mary came up beside me, a little tipsy herself. Andrew, far drunker by the looks of it, followed close behind.

"Miss what?" I asked.

Mary rolled her eyes and thrust a finger at the space above the fireplace. Following her finger, I saw the countdown banner, which now read 00:00:30. "Oh, right—midnight."

"It's on'y the point of the—of the . . . thing," Andrew said.

"Party?" I offered, trying not to laugh.

"Tha's the one!" he replied, grinning at me.

Just then, the traditional ten second countdown started.

"Ten! Nine!"

"Eight!" I yelled, joining in. "Seven! Six!" I looked at Potter, who grinned back at me.

"Five! Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!" The cry echoed throughout the common room as what must have been a thousand pounds of confetti rained down on us.

Andrew dipped Mary back—rather unsteadily—for a kiss, and I was impressed that they didn't fall over.

"Here's your chance, Evans," Potter said in a low voice, looking significantly at Sirius and Remus, who had appeared without my noticing. The two were attempting to high-five, without much success. Apparently, Remus had had more to drink in my absence.

I was about to reply when I was suddenly ambushed by Mary and Andrew, who swooped down to kiss me on the cheek, one on each side. "Happy New Year!" they shouted in unison.

Laughing, I returned the sentiment. I'd barely recovered from their double attack when Remus and Sirius repeated the motion. This time, it was Potter who burst out laughing, while I'm fairly sure I looked like I'd just been doused with ice water.

"Guess Moony wasn't too weirded out," Potter said. "Happy New Year, Evans."

Still slightly bewildered, I replied, "Happy New Year."

OOOOOOOO

I woke early the next morning—at least, I assumed it was early compared to most of the Gryffindors, especially those who'd been heavily intoxicated the night before. Dressing in comfortable clothes, I descended the stairs to the common room. Okay, scratch that, I thought upon finding it deserted, I guess it's early compared to the general population.

Absolutely no clean-up had occurred between the time I'd gone to bed last night—shortly after midnight—and the time the party ended—probably around four in the morning, judging by past parties. Hundreds of cups and empty butterbeer bottles cluttered the floor and tables, the countdown banner was still feebly flashing 'Happy New Year', and a thin layer of colorful confetti still covered the entire room. Brushing some of the paper off a couch by the fireplace, I dropped onto it with a sigh. A few minutes later, my obsessive compulsive tendencies got the better of me, and I stood again to start cleaning. At first, I tried Summoning the confetti, hoping to ease the clean-up process, but after I was blasted in the face by a deluge of the stuff, I abruptly changed tactics. By hand it is, then.

Raised in a Muggle household, I didn't dread manual cleaning as much as some of my fellow students would. As I was crawling under a table to retrieve a few errant cups, a voice called out, "Somehow, I knew I'd find you here."

My head snapped up in surprise, connecting sharply with the table above it. Swearing in pain, I backed more carefully from under the table and straightened up. Potter was standing across the room near the base of the boys' dormitory stairs. "And what's that supposed to mean?" I asked, rubbing the sore spot on the back of my head.

He shrugged. "I knew that as soon as you woke up, you wouldn't be able to resist cleaning this mess up. And I figured that, since I was awake, and since it was my party, I'd come down and help you. Oh, and since we're friends now and everything," he added with a smirk.

I just stared at him for a moment. "So, let me get this straight: James Potter is taking responsibility for something?" I finally asked with mock surprise.

Potter grinned. "Well, first time for everything, isn't there Evans?"

I gave a half shrug. "Just to warn you, we'll have to do this all by hand—I tried Summoning the confetti earlier with . . . not-so-favorable results."

"Sorry I missed that." He walked over to me and plucked a piece of confetti out of my hair. "Though I think I can picture the general idea of it."

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, well, if you want to start the lovely task of gathering all that up, I can finish the cups. And there's a questionable stain over in that corner someone will have to deal with."

To my further shock, Potter just nodded and started picking up confetti without so much as a complaint or teasing remark. We worked quietly for a few minutes, and then I said, "I didn't know you were a morning person."

"I'm not. At least, not generally. And especially not after a party. You must be rubbing off on me already."

"Lucky you," I said dryly.

Potter looked up at me. "Was that supposed to be a jab at me, or are you saying you'd rather I be like me than like you?"

I frowned, trying to sort out that somewhat confusing sentence. "Er, the first one? I guess."

Potter grinned. "Good. Because if it was the second, that'd be far too much change in one night for me."

I smiled back at him, surprised at how easily we were getting along. How has simply offering to be friends with him affected our interactions so drastically already? I puzzled over this as we continued to straighten up the common room. We finished quicker than I'd expected and sat down opposite each other near the fire when we were done. I started to thank Potter for his help, but before I could say a word, he chucked a handful of confetti at me.

Laughing he said, "Honestly, you really do make it too easy, Evans."

I glared at him, picking pieces of confetti off my shirt for the second time that morning. "Glad I can amuse you."

Just then, footsteps sounded on the boys' stairs, and Potter and I turned to see Sirius enter the room. He slumped down beside Potter with a sigh, leaning his head back against the couch and shutting his eyes.

Potter shot me an amused look. "You're up early," he added to Sirius.

"Well, that'll happen when someone steals the bathroom and you're forced to throw up in your own trunk," he replied derisively.

Potter winced in sympathy. I tried not to laugh.

"I would've made it to the bathroom too, if bloody Wormtail hadn't been in there already," he continued, though neither Potter nor I had asked for an explanation. "And as he was . . . purging as well, that only made it worse, so . . ." he trailed off in a you-know-the-rest sort of way.

"You cleaned it up though, right?" I asked.

Sirius finally opened his eyes to shoot me a withering look. "No, I left it there to commemorate the new year," he said sarcastically.

I held up my hands. "Okay, I was just checking."

"Yeah, after last night, I'd expect you to be nicer to Evans, Padfoot," Potter added in a falsely admonishing tone.

I reddened slightly, but Sirius just rolled his eyes. "I was drunk, Prongs, you know what I get like. No offense, Lily."

"None taken."

"Yeah, Evans is lucky you at least kept your pants on this time," Potter said seriously.

I raised my eyebrows as Sirius said quickly, "Okay, we're not getting into that right now. Or ever, preferably."

Potter opened his mouth to reply, but Sirius distracted him by adding, "Sorry about the letters, by the way."

"What?" Potter demanded, frowning, and I sat up straight, suddenly wary.

"Yeah, I found them in your trunk when I was getting the decorations for last night, and I brought them down to ask you about it"—here he raised an eyebrow slightly at me—"and sort of left them on a table. So that's why Chloe, er, you know . . ."

Potter was quiet for a minute, while I braced myself for an outburst. But, to my surprise, he just sighed and said, "You told me that now on purpose, didn't you? Because you know I can't hate you when you look so pathetic."

Sirius glared at his best mate, but didn't appear to have the energy to respond. And I was saved the embarrassing questions I anticipated from him about the letters when Remus and Peter entered the common room. "Moony, Wormtail," Potter greeted them with a grin. "And how are you this fine morning?"

"I think I just threw up everything I've ever eaten," Wormtail moaned, sliding down in his chair and closing his eyes.

"And I think I need to throw up everything I've ever eaten, because I feel awful," Remus added.

"Well, time for breakfast, then," Potter said brightly, standing. The others merely looked at him in horrified astonishment.

"Absolutely not," Sirius said firmly.

"I'm never eating again," Peter vowed.

"And I'd appreciate it if everyone just stopped talking about food," Remus said, his skin now slightly green-tinged.

Potter sighed. "Fine. Evans?" he added to me.

I shrugged. "Who knows when Mary is going to be up, so, sure."

"We'll bring you back some hangover supplies," Potter assured his friends as we started for the portrait hole.

As we left the common room, I heard Peter say in confusion, "Are they friends now, or something?"

I glanced at Potter to see if he'd heard his friend's comment as well, but his face betrayed nothing.

"So, is it always like this?" I started conversationally as we headed for the Great Hall. "They all get absurdly drunk and then you take care of them the next day? Because I would have thought that Remus—"

"Yep, he's usually the sober one of the bunch," Potter affirmed. "Though you'd be surprised how much he can let loose—you know, for him, that is." He smirked. "I guess there were just too many distractions last night for me to focus on the art of getting plastered."

I raised an eyebrow. "There's an art to it?"

"Oh yes," Potter said seriously. Then he smiled crookedly. "I'll teach it to you sometime, if you want."

"As fun as that sounds, I think I'll pass. Though I would be interested to hear the story of Sirius's missing pants." We crossed the Entrance Hall and entered the relatively empty Great Hall.

Potter grinned. "Yeah, that's a good one. It was during—shit!" Potter suddenly turned around, grabbing my arm and pulling me along with him.

"What are you—" I began, trying to pull away.

"Shh! Don't look back, just walk," Potter insisted.

He dragged me back across the Entrance Hall, through a door beside the marble staircase, and partway down the corridor beyond before finally coming to a stop. "Sorry," he said with a sigh, "but Chloe was in there."

I stared at him for a moment. "Merlin, you are a coward!" I said finally. "I never knew that James Potter was so afraid to—"

"So you'd be okay walking in there and eating breakfast with me? Just me?"

I considered this, finally wrinkling my nose. "No, I guess not," I said grudgingly. "So, what do you propose we do? Starve?"

Potter rolled his eyes. "Hardly, Evans," he said condescendingly. "I didn't bring you in here for nothing, you know." And with that cryptic non-explanation, he started walking again.

I hurried to catch up. "Where are we going?"

"Kitchens," Potter said simply. "Generally helpful when one is in search of food, I've found," he added mildly, but I heard the smirk in his voice that indicated he was mocking me.

"Oh, shove it, Potter," I said.

"I thought we were going to try and be friends."

"I'm still at perfect liberty to tell you when you're being an idiot."

"I wasn't the one being an idiot," Potter protested. "You were the one who didn't seem to know that food came from the kitchens."

Sighing exasperatedly, I said, "Obviously I knew that—all I asked was where we were going. And since I haven't spent every second of my free time illegally wandering the school, you can hardly expect me to know where the kitchens are."

"It's not illegal to wander the school. And that is exactly your problem, Evans."

"That I don't know where the kitchens are? I would hardly call that a 'problem'—"

"I'm starting to see why we've never been friends before," Potter interrupted with a smirk, coming to a stop in the corridor.

"So am I," I muttered, stopping as well, but only because Potter had.

"Well, it's only been one day—you can still back out of your resolution without too much trouble."

"My what?"

Potter leaned casually against the wall beside him. "Your resolution. As in, New Year's resolution."

I looked sharply at him and found that, surprise of surprises, he was grinning. I rolled my eyes. "It's not a New Year's resolution," I said.

"Okay, then, what is it? You actually want to try to be friends with me? I somehow find that awfully hard to believe, Evans."

I glared at him. He'd backed me into a corner without my realizing it. Either I consented that it was a New Year's resolution after all—and I hated backing down in an argument with Potter—or I admitted that I wanted to be friends with him of my own volition. And even though I hated the second option infinitely more, I knew it was the truth. At least, I thought it was. I was still a bit confused on that part, and hadn't completely ruled out the possibility that I had, in fact, gone insane. Or that this was an absurdly long and very strange dream.

"You didn't seem to have a problem believing it last night," I said, not quite answering his question.

Unfortunately, he noticed. "Stop being evasive, Evans."

"Fine. I want to be friends with you," I said, albeit grudgingly.

Potter's grin widened. "Don't sound so sincere," he said sardonically.

I pushed my hair out of my eyes and sighed impatiently again. "So, where are these lovely kitchens of yours?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

"Here," Potter said. "But I didn't want to go in until we'd finished our stimulating conversation." Smirking again, he pushed off from the wall with his shoulder and walked to a large painting that hung opposite. "You want to do the honors?"

"The honors of what?" I asked, looking skeptically at the still life of a bowl of fruit before me.

"You just tickle the pear."

I raised an eyebrow. "I what, sorry?" Narrowing my eyes, I added, "You're putting me on—trying to make me look ridiculous."

Potter sighed. "Now, Evans, why would I do that when it's only me here? I already know you can look ridiculous."

Before I could make an angry reply, Potter reached up and tickled the green pear in the painting himself, and it swung open on the Hogwarts kitchens.

The room was incredibly large, much larger than I'd expected. It was nearly the size of the Great Hall. And when I spotted the four long tables that ran the length of it, I realized that it must be exactly the size of the Great Hall. Surrounding the tables were several stoves, hundreds of cupboards and cabinets, and extensive counter space. Everything was done in miniature, however, and the reason soon became abundantly clear.

The minute the portrait had opened, several short creatures had come scurrying up to us. They had disproportionately large heads, huge round eyes, and pointy ears, and all were beaming and bowing at us. House elves, I realized. For though I'd only seen pictures of them in our textbooks, I knew that was what they must be.

"Mr. Potter, sir," one squeaked, sounding genuinely delighted to see him. Probably because he doesn't have to be around him as much as I do, I thought. I know, I was supposed to be trying to be friends with Potter, but, honestly, I was pretty sure he was making it deliberately difficult.

"What is you needing this time, sir?"

"Well, New Year's party last night, so my friends upstairs—you know, Remus, Peter, and Sirius—are in need of some, er, hangover remedies." The elves seemed unfazed by this request, and I wondered if it was because they were too polite to protest such debauchery, or because it was so regular an occurrence with Potter and his friends that it didn't surprise them any more. I felt compelled to lean towards the latter.

"And I'd like some eggs, sausage, toast, and if you have any of those amazing chocolate scones from yesterday left, I'll take one of those as well."

Two elves hurried off to carry out James's order, while the remaining three turned to me.

"And miss is wanting . . ."

"Oh, right, sorry Evans," Potter said. "This is Lily Evans—"

"Pleased to meet you miss," the three elves chorused. I smiled back at them.

"And she'd like—well, what would you like, Evans?"

"Hmm, let's see. I'd like for McGonagall to stop giving us homework assignments that assume we have no other classes, and I'd like the snow to melt by the first of March—as it should—and I'd like—"

"I don't think they understand sarcasm, Evans, so just tell them what you want for breakfast," Potter said, though he sounded amused.

"Oh, that was for your benefit."

"How thoughtful of you. And I agree with the first point, though good luck with the second."

"Thank you." I turned to the house elves, who were still waiting expectantly, not looking at all confused by Potter's and my exchange. "Sorry—I'll just take some toast, if it's not too much trouble."

The house elves bowed again and trotted away.

Potter raised a derisive eyebrow. "Toast? That's it? You have the whole kitchen at your fingertips, and you want toast?"

"I feel bad making them do extra work," I said defensively. "Besides, I happen to like toast. And I'll probably go to breakfast with Mary later anyway."

Potter and I received our respective requests in record time, and after assuring the house elves three times that, no, we really didn't need anything else, we left the kitchens, several farewells to 'Mr. Potter, sir' following us out.

"I've tried to get them to just call me 'James', but . . . anyway, impressed?"

"By what?"

"My detective skills. In finding the kitchens."

"Oh, incredibly impressed," I said sarcastically. "I'm sure it's nothing to what Chloe thought when you showed her, though," I added, realizing as the words left my mouth that it probably wasn't the most sensitive thing to say, considering they'd broken up only yesterday. But then, my sensitivity always seemed to be mysteriously absent whenever I was with Potter.

Predictably, he didn't seem to notice it, however. "Oh, I never showed her the kitchens," he said easily.

I frowned. "Yes you did—when you two went to get hot chocolate for us a few days ago—"

"I made her wait in the Entrance Hall."

My frown deepened. "Why?"

"The kitchens are a valuable Marauder's secret, Evans," Potter said, acting scandalized that I even needed to ask such a question. "And we don't tell our secrets to just anyone, you know."

Then why even bring Chloe with you? But Potter's actions had brought a more pressing concern to mind. "Yet you told me . . . you're not trying to bribe me into being friends with you, are you?"

Potter gave me an odd look. "Of course not. And anyway, I thought you wanted to be friends with me, remember?" He smirked triumphantly.

I glared at him again as we emerged in the Entrance Hall.

"Besides, I knew it'd be more trouble than it's worth to try and make you wait here. Not to mention I'd have brought you an actual breakfast, and that clearly wouldn't have done at all."

I shoved him lightly. "You're impossible," I said, though I was grinning in spite of myself.

A/N: Yay, title reference! Haha. Anyway, the first hurdle has been . . . er . . . hurdled—they're friends! (though a bit reluctantly on Lily's part). How long they'll be able to get along, however….well, it's James and Lily, so—enough said.