Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, JK Rowling does. Big surprise I'm sure.

A/N: Thanks for the reviews!

Dandelions

Chapter 2: Head Girl and Head Boy

He tapped his foot to an inner beat that he was quite sure was the Peruvian national anthem. He scratched the back of his head with his quill. Slouched in his seat a bit more. He discovered an old scribble on a corner of the parchment in his pocket and added a few snitches and a 'PADFOOT LURVES SNAPE' before carefully screwing it back up and repositioning it in his pocket. He was just contemplating scratching his head again when he noticed, quite by accident, that there seemed to be a book flying towards him. He pushed his chair back and watched as it whizzed straight passed him and hit the wall with such force that he was positive that it would've decapitated him. He continued to stare at the offending object in puzzlement until he glanced in the direction it had originated and saw a steaming mass of Head Girl and a dozen other bemused-looking people he supposed must be prefects.

"Can I help?" he offered politely.

"Once again," she began, ignoring him and addressing the younger students watching her. "The Head Boy will now talk to you about the regulations for punishing other students since he is, dare I say, an expert in the field." She sent him a glare and abruptly sat down in her seat.

He slowly got to his feet, leisurely turned his quill over his fingers and scratched his head for good measure.

"These are the rules," he droned out. He knew them so well he could've recited them in his sleep."No hexing, no cursing, no Muggle torture weapons, no biting, no shouting, no impersonating a member of the clergy (unless approved by myself), no flying indoors, no misuse of mops, no entering or usage of bathrooms belonging to the opposite sex, no hitting, no spitting, no sneezing unnecessarily, no turning Filch into a parrot, no dueling, no indoor swamps, no indoor swamp parties (unless I'm invited)- gah!" he yelped as he dodged another book-turned-missile. "I was kidding, Evans! That brings me onto the next point, actually, which is, and I stress it is extremely important: no throwing books, especially at the personage of the Head Boy! Where was I…ah, yes, an old favourite, no sword fighting, no fake beards, no stealing, no sticking your head where it doesn't belong, no sniggering, no love potions, no musical instruments, no romantic literature of any kind- including PlayWizard, unfortunately- no racketeering, no pushing little people into walls, no time travel, unless approved by a teacher and, finally, no misuse of alliteration."

Pretty much every other rule had been put in place as a consequence of one of the misadventures of the Marauders, from the time Sirius had got his head stuck in one of the toilets in the fifth floor girls bathroom (and had henceforth claimed that all female bathrooms were obviously jinxed to ward him off, which was very probably true) to the time they had decided to talk just using words that began with 'p' all day long in honour of James being awarded Head Boy.

"Now, if any of these rules are broken- personally, I'd recommend the Playwizard one- Oh, don't get your knickers in a twist, Evans! Anyway, if any one of these rules are broken it is up to you as the underlings in the chain of command to enforce the law. You may dish out House points and you may take them away at your discretion. But, I'm warning you, don't abuse the privilege. Trust me, she'll know; she's got a third eye."

"No, Potter, it's just called a brain," she drawled, folding her arms.

"If you want to give a detention, see a Professor or one of us." Potter leaned forward on his desk and looked around the room with a serious expression. "You have the power to confiscate. Use this gift wisely. And remember, always remember, the PlayWizard."

A bored- looking fifth year raised her hand and said "But you gave us that entire speech- including the part about the PlayWizard- in September!"

Evans crossed her legs and frowned at the group. "It needed repeating- well, most of it did- because its come to my attention that some of you seem to think that you have the power to set detentions. Well, I'm assuming that as I'd rather not think that you've just been using your authority to pick on other students."

There was an uncomfortable silence as the Head Girl raised an eyebrow and glared reprovingly around the room, making several people fidget awkwardly. "Can anyone explain to me why Cassius Caspian was found by Hagrid in a collapsed heap at the base of an oak tree at three am this morning, after he'd allegedly been told by a prefect to walk around said tree for twenty four hours because he bumped into an older and supposedly more mature student by accident?"

Potter frowned and rubbed the back of his neck. "Look, it's not fair to do that to the little people. I mean, can they help it that they're little? And remember, they do grow and when they do, they get mad. Anyway, that's not the point to having power- you don't need to punish. Just confiscate-"

"Yes, yes, Potter, we all know, PlayWizard," the Head Girl tutted. "I just wanted it made clear to everyone that abuse of power will not be tolerated. Caspian refused to say who it was who had told him to do such a thing, I suspect due to a fear of being threatened further. You all understand what's going on outside Hogwarts at the moment. Now is not the time to be cruel to innocent children. If I do discover the culprit they will be the one walking around a tree all night. I'll make sure that they have their prefects badge revoked and they will be reported to the Headmaster. Don't abuse your authority because I will know. Like Potter said, I've got a third eye."

After dismissing the prefects, who shuffled, disgruntled, out of the room, Evans calmly rose and began to pack up her notes. She ignored the fact that the Head Boy had decided to hang back, and was leaning casually against the door frame, watching her, no doubt biding his time before trying out some new and interesting method of torture.

"What was that for?" he eventually burst out, unable to maintain his cool manner any longer.

"Well, I'm sorry if you find it distasteful that I try to be a good Head Girl and keep the prefects in line but-"

"Not that!" he snapped. "The throwing of the books! They could've caused me bodily harm!"

She paused in packing her bag away and glanced at him scathingly. "Really? Oh, I didn't realize!"

He stepped away from the door frame and sniffed the air for a second. "I'm getting a strong whiff of sarcasm from a south-westerly direction."

Evans lifted the heavy book bag onto her shoulder and shut her eyes for a blissful moment. "One day, one beautiful day, I'll throw a book and it'll actually knock you out. Then again, I bet you even talk in your sleep. A coma's better. But there's always the possibility of you waking up. That's it- death is the only option."

She opened her eyes in surprise when she felt a warm hand on hers. She jolted when she saw how close he was stood, his hand on hers, his eyes laced with amusement and his lips curved. The last time she'd seen him this close up had been when they were twelve and she'd sneaked up to the boys' dorm and placed a lacewig fly up his left nostril. He'd been drooling and snoring, making it a less than pretty picture. Well, even she- and she did hate him, after all- could say that five years on he looked a damn sight more attractive.

This didn't normally happen. Potter didn't stand so close, he didn't stare at her like that for any prolonged amount of time, and he most certainly didn't hold her hand. Actually, she realized with a start, she had never touched him before, skin on skin- not a handshake, a high five or even a brushing of hands when exchanging volatile substances in potions. The feeling of his hand on hers was more disturbing than she ever could have imagined.

He tugged and she jerked away as it dawned on her that he'd actually been trying to take her bag from her. Potter wanted to carry her bag. It didn't make sense. She must be in an alternate universe. Or he'd had a personality transplant. Or he'd finally succumbed to insanity. Or she was the insane one and was in fact imagining the look he was giving her.

"That's not nice."

"Since when did you want me nice?" Usually when she said something like that it came out snappy, which was how she'd intended it. Unfortunately, due to a bizarre problem with her breathing apparatus, and what she could only assume was the crossing of several important synapses in her brain, it came out sounding… different. Well, not like her anyway. It appeared even to her horrified ears that she was attempting to sound seductive.

It seemed that Potter had picked up on this aberration too as his eyebrows shot up in surprise and his mouth dropped open. She decided she couldn't handle any further arguments or embarrassment and bolted before that stupid grin had chance to emerge.

Potter stared after the Head Girl as she all but ran out of the room and a bemused smile crept onto his face as it usually did when he was around her (though technically she would claim it was more 'smirk' than 'smile'). He stuck a hand into a pocket and scratched his head with the other. He didn't quite know what had happened or who had been to blame. It appeared that all he had to do to get her to descend into lunacy was be nice to her. She was a strange girl.

James scrubbed the stupid cup again with the ridiculously ineffective duster and gritted his teeth. He'd cleaned the damn trophies fifteen times so far- fifteen- and Filch still wasn't satisfied. Why would anyone want to see their face in a cup anyway?

He scowled at the next placard, the one that had his name on it and proclaimed him Head Boy. Bloody good that did him. All it meant was that Evans was actually authorised to shout at him and boss him around. He furiously rubbed at the shining silver plaque as a single fingerprint directly over the 'P' flat-out refused to budge. It was ironic that it was his one single tiny award out of the thousands stored in the room that was the one he couldn't seem to get clean. He wondered if the universe was trying to tell him something poetic.

The next placard amongst the dozens to follow was the Head Girl's. He considered it as he scrubbed. She was a good Head Girl, he supposed. She was scary enough to keep most of the prefects in line and clever enough to outwit those she hadn't scared. He still couldn't understand why he'd been made Head Boy. It was an advantage of course: it helped win arguments, which usually resulted in a triumphant yell of 'But I'm Head Boy so HA!' and it helped him get away with certain things ('Ah, Professor McGonagall, you intended to patrol this corridor tonight too? Everything seems to be in order, nothing suspicious at all...'). The only thing that he actually brought to being the Head Boy was that he was laid back. He was the calm to Evans's storm. He was the balm to her blister. He grudgingly supposed that they made a good team.

He wondered what she'd be doing after Hogwarts. Probably something to do with the Ministry; it was the largest place of work for witches and wizards in the country, after all. It just didn't interest him one bit. He wanted to do something worthwhile, something better than pushing pieces of paper around all day every day for the rest of his life. He knew some people didn't mind that so much, but he was most certainly not one of those people. And, now he thought about it, he didn't think Evans would be satisfied with something so mundane either. They weren't the best of friends, but he could still see that she didn't belong in an office being bored out of her mind all day. She had something that not everyone had; she had fire, she had passion. That was part of the reason why he loved fighting with her so much. It was never dull around Evans.

He was worried for her. He knew he shouldn't be; he knew she could stand up for herself. It was a well known fact that she was smarter than him, could put up a damn good fight and could cast a spell quicker and better than anyone in the entire school. Her being muggleborn only made him admire her more. But that was what scared him; when they left the safety of Hogwarts in just a few weeks she'd be completely exposed, completely vulnerable, with no Dumbledore to protect her. The number of black letters the school had received had doubled over the past few months and in just two short weeks Evans would be out there, alone, with no one to protect her from them.

He moved onto a large goblet that commemorated Engelbert Whitney-Chessington's rule as Head Boy from 1953-1954. He'd already cleaned it three times but he still found the name amusing. James wondered if Whitney-Chessington had been a good Head Boy. He probably wore it like a shield and wielded it like a sabre, strutting around the school like he owned the place and saying things like "I say, Chesney, totally spiffing weather at the moment! Leave it, Turner, I'm Head Boy!"

James chuckled to himself. "You get me every time, Engelbert."

As he wiped a hand over his face and began to buff the large 1590 Triwizard Tournament plaque, his thoughts turned to the extremely strange prefect meeting earlier that day. He still couldn't figure out what had happened. What had possessed him to be nice to her? That was what a guy did when he liked a girl, not when she hated him with the fire of a thousand suns. Needless to say, it had been weird. He didn't know what had caused him to suddenly decide that her bag was too heavy and he didn't have a clue why she hadn't cursed him right away. Even Peter would've been able to tell that when they'd touched hands there'd been a spark of…something. James wasn't like Sirius- he didn't find completely mundane things erotic or perverted in some way- but he knew when something was sexy.

He sat back on his haunches and clenched his fist. He could still feel her hand against his. There was no way he could deny it. It had been too vivid, even though he had no clue where it had come from. What he did know was that when he'd touched his fingers to hers and she'd looked up at him through her eyelashes, by Godric, it had been sexy.

A/N: After the first chapter a few people remarked that they couldn't see how the romance was going to fit into Lily and James's fighting relationship, but hopefully with this chapter you can see little sparks of romance :D. The next couple of chapters really advance it, I think.

PREVIEW CLUES (to entice you to keep reading):

- the stealing of books

- deranged or stupid?

- the chapter title is "Love and Hate"...

Oh, and also: Review if you have any pity for my attention-starved being! *faints with melodrama*.