More Than Grass

This piece was written in honor of the sixth month best friend anniversary of Sarah Kavanagh and vea. This fic took too long to finish, and it really gets cracky toward the end, but frankly, that's how we like things. Have a nice day!

More Than Grass

“Bloody fucking sodding hell...”

James Potter normally never set much store by the rules, but after three consecutive warnings from his Head of House, two detentions, and a telling off from the Head Girl all because he could never arrive on time for anything, be it class or Prefects meeting, he had decided that punctuality wasn't such a bad idea after all. Take last night, for example. There was a crucially important Transfiguration class in the morning, so instead of telling Peter to rouse him by chucking something at his head when he was about to leave the dormitory like he usually did, he had made doubly sure to set his alarm for eight am. Unlike the majority of the student body, the wrath of one Professor McGonagall did not frighten him. What did bother him, however, was the scorn of the Head Girl, a Miss Lily Evans, a young lady with whom he was quite enamored. Lily had, only three days ago, reprimanded James for his continual belatedness, so he'd decided to turn over a new leaf, not wanting to disappoint his beloved by being tardy.

The stupid clock had evidently decided to be a lazy bugger and take a day off, which was why James was presently running down the deserted Charms corridor as if his life depended on it, cursing his clock, his friends for not waking him up, himself for not waking up earlier, Professor McGonagall and Lily Evans herself, for reasons most unfathomable to him at the moment.

“Fuck!” he cried, as he tripped somewhat clumsily over his own two feet. He was propelled awkwardly forward, but he managed to prevent himself from falling by grabbing onto a nearby suit of Armor. After steadying himself, he looked down.

His shoelace had come undone. Of course it would choose now of all times to come undone. Every other day of the year his shoelace was perfectly well behaved. It was obviously conspiring against him, along with his alarm clock. He bent down to tie it, cursing all the while.

“Piece of shit, sodding shoelace...”

His mutterings were brought to an abrupt ending by a cough from somewhere in front of him. Looking upwards, all thoughts of rushing to class were abandoned as he found himself gazing through his fringe at none other than Lily Evans. His face turned a rather charming puce color. This was all James needed. Not only had he missed the entire morning, he had fallen over in front of Lily like a complete pillock. She was probably laughing inwardly at his idiocy, although her face bore an inquisitive expression, with no trace of mirth.

“Sodding hell,” he muttered again, fumbling with his lace and trying to look composed. He eventually managed to tie it properly and fixed a charming smile onto his face.

“Morning, Evans!” said James, although the casual effect he was looking for was slightly marred by his beet red face.

“Potter.” Her cheeks were glowing with what James could only presume to be the cold. Perhaps she had come from the grounds?

She really was lovely, even with dark circles under her eyes, creased clothes and strands of her iridescent hair escaping her usually neat ponytail. He felt it was his duty to tell her so.

“You're looking splendid this morning,” he nattered cheerfully, standing up to face her. She cocked her head to the side, obviously taking in his somewhat disheveled appearance. He hadn't had much time to get ready earlier. His shirt was un-tucked, his tie was hanging loose around his neck, his glasses were askew and his hair was scruffier than ever, probably in need of a good wash. He suddenly began to feel very discomfited. Great, he looked like a vagabond.

“Potter?” said she, ignoring the compliment.

“Er, yes?” he replied, his hand halfway through his hair before he pulled it away, remembering that his habit of ruffling his hair annoyed her.

“I thought you were a gentleman,” she said as though something about him disappointed her greatly. Her face was impassive, although her eyes were twinkling. This statement confused James, who shook his head dazedly a few times before responding.

“I am!”

“Are you?”

“I-” He paused. What was she getting at? He was James Potter. If his mother had taught him one thing, it was manners. What was James, if not a gentleman? “Yes!”

“Really?”

“I opened that door for you yesterday,” he argued, still having no idea what she was talking about but wanting to defend himself anyway.

“That's interesting,” she said, looking thoughtful. “Because I could have sworn that I just heard you using some very un-gentlemanly language.”

The penny dropped.

“Oh, that…I was…you see…” He trailed off.

Lily Evans had heard him swearing! She had heard him, he who was always careful to act like a gentleman around her, using language that should not have reached her delicate little ears. Now she had another reason to despise him. Lily Evans would never fancy a foul-mouthed idiot. Her ideal man would be polite and courteous, blessed with the ability to sprout poetry and prose at the drop of a hat and recite Shakespeare to her on a rose petal-covered blanket in a moonlit Astronomy tower. He wouldn't, of course, as such things were trite and cliché, but he could, and that was what mattered. He would own half of England, run a chain of soup-kitchens and invent cures for dragon pox. He would have immaculate hair, his ties would be neat, his shirt always tucked in, and he would be absolutely nothing like James Potter. A sudden vision of this man appeared in his head and he balled his fists compulsively. Stupid, perfect man with his perfect hair and his-

Lily cleared her throat and raised an eyebrow in question.

“Fuck!” he whispered. He had obviously been ignoring her. Her other eyebrow went up to join its counterpart.

“Oh, shit!” he hissed, self-hatred growing by the minute. He was still doing it. He had always been prone to using bad language; it was a habit he couldn't seem to break, but he could always control his mouth around her. Well, to an extent, anyway. Just because he didn't swear around her didn't mean that he could speak to her without coming off as an idiot. “I mean…curses!”

She blinked.

“Sorry? I didn't catch that.”

“Nothing! I said I... am late for class! Fiddlesticks!” As if the look on his face didn't give it away.

“Oh, Potter,” she said shrewdly. “You were cursing!”

“No, I wasn't!” James cast his eyes about furtively, looking for some sort of escape from this chance meeting that had gone horridly awry.

“Yes, you were.”

“I'm hurt that you would dishonor me so!” he replied, scandalized. This did nothing but make her laugh. “I wasn't cursing!” he insisted. “I'd never do that around you.”

She stopped laughing to shoot him a significant look.

“Or anywhere!” he cried, wincing inwardly as his voice reached a level that it hadn't attained since his second year. “Ever!”

“Is that so?” Lily folded her arms neatly across her chest.

“Yes!”

She tilted her head and drawled, “I'm very disappointed, Potter. This just goes to show…”

“To show what?” James asked, exasperated. There had to be a way out of this corner he'd backed himself into. He briefly considered running his head against the wall before deciding she might think that cowardly.

Rather than respond, as the laws of conversation James was used to would dictate, she smiled enigmatically before turning around and strolling down the corridor.

“Did I do something wrong?!” James called out. When she didn't respond, he yelled, “Fuck!” Of course, the instant he did so, more curses streamed through his head to reprimand him for his utter lack of eloquence and tact.

Strangely, after he'd calmed his mind down enough to pay attention to the real world again, he noticed she'd stopped in the middle of the corridor.

Determinedly not cursing, he pleaded, “What?”

“Oh, just something I've suspected for a while…” Maddeningly, she smiled to herself again and walked off.

James pushed his hands through his hair and cried, “What?” He caught up to her and grabbed her arm. “Evans- Lily- what did you suspect?”

Lily stopped mid-step and looked down. “Potter,” she said slowly.

“Yeah?”

“Don't manhandle me.”

“What?” James followed her gaze to where his hand gripped her forearm. “Oh!” His hand was apparently quite happy where it was because it refused to follow his brain's orders to move elsewhere.

Her mouth opened. No words came out, but her breath hitched, almost quietly enough for him to miss it. James, however, had long ago mastered the art of distinguishing the various noises that came from her lips.

“Evans…” he began, his tone laced with concern. “Are you feeling all right?”

“I- what?” she replied breathily. Her pupils were oddly dilated.

“You look a little flushed.” He squinted at her face. “Do you have a fever?”

Lily averted her eyes and hastily replied, “I've just been for a long walk around the grounds in the middle of winter - of course I look flushed. And get your hand off me!”

“What? Oh, shit, right.” He quickly pulled his hand back and shoved it in his robe pocket. There was an awkward little moment in which Lily shut her mouth and James scuffled his feet. “Why were you walking around?” he asked once the silence became unbearable.

“ Now, I'll ask you this one more time,” Lily said evenly. “What do you want?”

James scrunched up his face in confusion. He'd forgotten why exactly it was so important that she not leave. “Well,” he said, trying to remember what she'd said only moments ago, “you said you suspected something... And you left the sentence hanging off all intriguingly... What else was I to do but follow up?”

She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Intriguingly? That's a big word, Potter. Are you sure you're not feeling ill?”

“That was uncalled for.”

“And another one! My, Potter, how you do surprise me.” An odd gleam came over her eyes. “Or maybe you're right. Maybe it is me with the fever...” she said, though the way she stared over his shoulder seemed to indicate she wasn't addressing him at all.

“So you are ill!” When she didn't reply, he continued, “Or... Wait, what were you doing walking around? Shouldn't you be somewhere right now?”

Her head gave the smallest start as she re-entered the conversation. “No, I'm... Why do you even care? I should be on my way to breakfast.”

“Well, it's... weird to go on walks by yourself,” James pointed out. “You should have asked me to join you.”

“Oh, never mind, I-” She paused, furrowed her eyebrow, and looked James in the eye. “What are you doing up at half six in the morning anyway?”

He blinked. “Er, I'm going to class.”

“Class?” She eyed him with the air of a professor who'd caught a student out after hours. “Class doesn't start until nine. It's six thirty.”

It took a few moments for the impact of her statement to hit James before he said dumbly, “Wait, what?!” His eyes widened.

“Potter, really, no joke now, are you sic-”

“Fuck!”

“What?!” she demanded.

“Oh, I mean...” James kicked the air in front of him. “Sodding hell! Damn it, Evans. Only you...” He huffed and looked up and down the corridor.

“Care to finish that sentence?”

He stared at her as though she'd proclaimed Peter had just been declared Minister of Magic. “You! You do this to me!” His hand ran through his mop of hair. “Not even bloody seven...” he grumbled.

“Do what?” she asked slowly. “Wake you up at six in the morning and make you kick at… Well, nothing in particular?”

“No, make me... Gah! I don't know, stupid!”

“Don't blame your psychotic behavior on me!”

“I'm not like this around anyone else!” he cried, flinging his arms out to the side. “It's you!”

“It's me? What did I ever do?!”

“You're... you!

“Excellent deduction.” She had the audacity to seem amused by the ordeal she was putting him through. “I thought I was Snape.”

“You're nice and funny and... you don't curse!”

She leveled her gaze at him. “How do you know I don't curse?” she asked, a hint of mirth thrown into the mix.

James struggled with that one. “Er, because… I've never heard you?”

“Well,” she said with the patience one would use to address a nine year old, “I had never heard you until five minutes ago.”

He chafed under her condescension. “That's because I try not to swear around you. Again, you do this to me! Make me not want to do things like...cursing!”

“Look, I don't know what you're blabbering about, but I do know that it's much too early for me to try to decipher it, so if you don't mind, Potter…” She turned to leave.

“What? You're leaving?!” James exclaimed. “You can't do that! We're not finished here!”

Fortunately for James' sanity, she paused, tossing a sideways glance over her shoulder. “Finished what?”

“Well, this!” He stopped to collect himself. “I said…things...and you didn't bloody say anything!”

In a completely unexpected move, a soft laugh broke the silence of the corridor. James took it as a sign that he could pursue his line of questioning. “Like...do you curse? And why the bloody hell were you out at six bloody thirty in the morning? I'm only up because I have shit for friends!”

“Oh! Potter, just drop it!” she said without derision.

“That's just it - I can't!” James' voice broke, and he let his shoulders - they'd somehow become very tense - droop as he let out a magnificent sigh.

Lily groaned and rubbed her eyes with her palms. “I was taking a walk. Lots of people take walks. It's not exactly shocking.”

“But you should be asleep. Or… Actually, I don't know what else you should be doing at this hour, but going on a walk…”

“Well, I couldn't sleep.”

“Why not?”

“Because I couldn't,” she said tersely.

“That's not a bloody answer,” he replied petulantly.

“Well… Well, I don't have to tell you if I don't want to.”

“You'd just leave me hanging like this? I think not, Lily Evans!” He marched down the corridor and stood directly in front of her.

“Potter, just because you feel the need to pester me every second of the day does not mean that I have to tell you all my bloody worries, does it?” She raised her eyebrows.

“Well, no, I supp- Wait.” His jaw dropped. “You... you cursed!”

“Yes, I cursed!” She pinched the bridge of her nose and added, “It's something I usually feel very tempted to do whenever I'm around you!”

James was dumbfounded. “Then why don't you?”

“ Because... Oh, I don't know, Potter... I just don't like cursing.”

“I knew it! Bloody knew it!” He pumped his fist in the air before catching himself. “Oh, f-iddlesticks...”

She rolled her eyes but let his vulgarity slide. “It's... unfeminine.”

He scoffed. “I don't know about you, but I bloody love it when girls talk like that.” Clearly his mind had completely gone round the bend. His face turned a brilliant red and he muttered, “Shit.”

“I see…” That odd shimmer was back in her eyes. She smirked. “Well, I'm going to breakfast now. Bye, Potter!” She spun around on her heel, walked about five steps, and whispered, “Wanker.”

“Sodding hell!” James' eyes widened as he realized that she had cursed. Again. And because he had just said… “You vile tease!”

She picked up her pace, but James sprinted after her. When he was two bounds away, she stopped abruptly, which meant, of course, that James went careening into her.

Crying out in pain, she turned around and began slapping James on the chest. Repeatedly. Painfully. “You called me vile!”

James let out an unhealthy amount of curses and tried to bat her hands away. “Only because you were deliberately taunting me!”

“I was doing no such thing!” she said emphatically, not relenting with the blows. “You misheard me!”

“I distinctly heard you say wanker!” James managed to grab her wrists and keep them away from himself. Now unable to slap him, she began trying to stomp on his toes, and James was forced to do a funny little dance to avoid harm. “You, you… sock-monger!”

“What!” she cried, momentarily desisting in her quest to maim him.

“I don't know!” he yelped, suddenly petrified.

She let out a strangled cry and continued stomping.

“It's just like you to only hear what you want to, isn't it, you hedonistic arsehole!” she hissed, and then smirked triumphantly as she somehow managed to tread heavily on his left foot. His mouth opened like a guppy and for a moment, he just spluttered at her.

“You did it again!” he at last managed to gasp out.

“No, I didn't.”

“YES, YOU DID!” He was getting very annoyed with Evans. The idea of throwing her out the window was suddenly quite appealing.

“No, James, I didn't,” she said, all anger gone from her voice, which was now so sugary sweet, he could have poured it on his pancakes. She blinked a few times and stared wide-eyed up at him, the picture of innocence and bewilderment.

He compulsively tightened his grip on her wrists. Maybe she was right - maybe she hadn't cursed. Maybe, after many long years of mooning after Evans, he had finally cracked and started hearing voices.

Or maybe not. There was the tiniest hint of a smirk at the corners of her lips. It was then that he realized something he'd never before known about Lily Evans: The girl was a manipulative mastermind.

“You... siren!” he fired at her, as though she had done him a grievous wrong. “You're... Gah!” He dropped her wrists from his grasp and threw his hands into the air once more.

She didn't change her expression. The calculating little wench knew exactly what she was doing to him. Gloom had barely settled in his stomach before he realized that the only explanation for Lily's actions would be if…

Well, if it was a fight she wanted, then a fight he would give her. Plus, he mused, it wasn't often that he was in a position such as this with Lily, he might as well get his money's worth. He shuffled forward slightly so that they were much closer together, and he was delighted to see a fleeting look of panic cross her pretty features.

“Only you, Evans,” he whispered, inwardly congratulating himself on a job well done. Unfortunately for him…

“Honestly, James, I don't know what you're talking about,” Lily replied breathlessly. “I didn't say a fucking word.”

Her look of unease returned, as did her regular voice. “Oh, I can smell bacon!” And with that, she turned away, so fast that her hair hit him in the face, and walked down the corridor, leaving James speechless for what must have been the third time that morning.

“I bloody well think not!”

He sprinted after her, grabbed her shoulders and spun her around quite dramatically. At about the same time, his courage seemed to leave his body and the ridiculousness of the situation hit him. What exactly was he supposed to do now? Kiss her? Argue with her? Beg her not to leave? He had the sneaking suspicion that all three would end with his being slapped again, which was not desirable. She slapped hard.

“Hello,” she said quietly, looking considerably shaken. More than likely she was just in shock because of what she'd done. For all intents and purposes, she had just been flirting with her sworn enemy, and doing a damn good job of it, too.

“Er... Hi...” he said nervously, absentmindedly staring down at his shoe. The toes were scuffed; he'd probably need to buy a new pair.

“Can I help you?”

He gave a nervous laugh. She looked so unsure and…cute. He wanted to cuddle her.

“I really don't know what I was going to do next...”

She squirmed a little.

“Oh, no, you don't, Evans,” he said, making sure he had a firm grip on her. She wasn't going to get away that easily. “You cursed!”

She scoffed derisively, but her face was turning pink.

“Repeatedly!”

“No, I didn't,” she retorted, somewhat childishly, tossing her long ponytail over her shoulder. “You're hearing things.” She squirmed again, but James was sick of playing games.

“Damn it all, Evans! You'd better be as turned on as I am right now, or I-”

He clapped his hand over his mouth, giving Lily enough freedom to allow her to wrench her arm from his grasp and gasp.

“You, you, you…You disgusting little pervert!” she screamed, looking appalled.

“I'm sorry!” he mumbled shamefacedly. If ever was there a time for an axe-wielding maniac to turn up and end his sad, sorry excuse for a life, it was right now.

“You disgusting, disgusting fucking pervert!” she carried on.

“Stop it! Stop it!!!” he shouted, in a voice so loud and panicked that she ceased her own screeching and looked around quickly as if expecting to see someone torturing him with their wand.

“Stop what?” she asked, once she had established that it was she that he was talking to.

“That!” He spluttered incoherently at her obvious confusion. “Cursing!”

“Cursing?”

“Yes!”

“Oh.” She nodded absently, looking as though something had just occurred to her. James gave a sigh of relief, still somewhat embarrassed by his hormone driven outbursts. Lily Evans really did have a bad effect on him. There had to be some kind of potion he could take, or-

“I'm going to go but, umm…” His gaze, which had traveled back down to his shoes again (was that Droobles stuck to his heel?) was upon her once more at the sound of her voice.

“Hmm?” She looked hesitant.

“Can I tell you something?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

She took a tentative step towards him, then another, then another, until she was practically pressed against him. She leaned in very slowly and for one crazy second, he actually thought that she was going to kiss him. Instead, she turned her head to whisper in his ear. He let out an involuntary shudder, not caring whether she felt it or not.

He heard the beginnings of a laugh die in her throat before she lowered her voice to a seductive whisper and spoke seven words that were bound to haunt him for the rest of his life.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

She pulled away.

“Nice talking to you, Potter.”

And with that, she ran.

It was at this point that James realized that if he did not have Lily Evans in his arms within about ten seconds, he might simply explode from sexual frustration, frustration she had hoisted upon him in an uncharacteristically cruel shot from her end.

He also let out a rather unmanly whimper, then managed to gather his thoughts as coherently as they'd get. “You- she-” He inhaled deeply and screamed, “LILY EVANS, YOU FUCKING GET YOUR ARSE BACK OVER HERE!”

Lily froze and ever so slowly rotated back to face him. “You're supposed to come to me, Potter,” she said, hitting every word with perfect enunciation.

James gawked at her rather unattractively, but his feet stayed firmly in place. She tapped her foot, obviously waiting for him to come to his senses and rush over to her, but his mind was absolutely blank. After a few moments of gaping on his part and glaring on her part, she huffed and marched over to him.

“You are not supposed to curse,” he told her blankly.

“Potter, I can bloody curse if I fucking want!” Her finger rammed into his chest.

“But you can't just, just...”

She suppressed a snarl and bit out, “Oh, fuck you!”

Really, in hindsight, that was probably not the best phrasing for Lily to use, as it did funny things to James. “Please do,” he whispered. An instant later his hand came down over his mouth.

Interestingly, Lily made a squeaking sort of noise and clamped her lips together as her cheeks grew even redder.

Finally, with all the speed of paint drying, James caught on. “You are turned on!” he said, although it was muffled by the hand in the way. He removed it and cried, “I bloody knew it!

“I think I need to go,” Lily said, her voice high, even for her gender.

“I THINK NOT!” James yelled with triumph, on the verge of brandishing an invisible sword. He took hold of her wrists before she could pull away.

“Potter,” she pleaded, “I really, really, let me go, please.”

He grinned devilishly. “You bloody motherfucking tease.”

“You egotistical bastard,” she shot back.

“You fucking like this as much as I do.”

“No, I don't!”

“Like hell you don't.”

“Let go of me!”

He gave her the smirk that he had been practicing for since his childhood. With unprecedented cool-headedness, he told her, “I'm going to kiss you now.”

She cocked her head at him, tossed a look down both ends of the corridor, and said, “Okay.”

So he did, thanking his lucky stars that the one thing he had remembered to do before rushing out of his dorm like a maniac this morning was to brush his teeth.

Several (we're feeling generous, so insert your own amount of time in here) later, they broke apart, and James was delighted to see that she didn't seem to be in immediate need of a sick bag.

“So…”

“Yeah,” James agreed.

“I… Well...” She looked about shiftily.

“Well what? Stop doing that trailing off thing.”

“Stop pointing it out that I trail off. I happen to like trailing off. It prevents me from having to answer awkward questions that you only pretend to care about anyway.”

“Only pretend to care about?” James asked, outraged and somewhat tired of the back-and-forth hate-love bit. “That's a load of bollocks!”

“No, it's not!”

“I do care, in case you hadn't noticed.”

“Really?” A bit of hope slipped in with her scorn.

“Why else would I- you know, keep trying to go out with you?” he said, trying unsuccessfully to take hold of her hand. This was evidently the wrong move. She took a step back from him and squared her shoulders.

“Oh, well, let me see?” she said sarcastically. “Because I keep turning you down and this is some weird little challenge for you?”

“What?” She was infuriating, this girl. Couldn't she see that he was crazy about her? So crazy about her that he was actually starting to go crazy. Which was not cool. At all. “That's ridiculous!”

She shook her head. There was a long pause, during which James started feeling a bit queasy. Wasn't she supposed to tell him that she liked him too? Instead, she was staring dolefully down at the floor with a pained expression.

Now was the opportune time for him to run away.

“Do you want to know why I couldn't sleep, Potter?” she suddenly fired at him. It took him by surprise, so much so that he actually jumped.

“Err.” He had definitely not been expecting this. He suddenly felt exactly how he had in his fifth year, where he had walked into what he had thought was his Charms O.W.L only to be handed a Care of Magical Creatures paper, completely unprepared. That incident had been entirely his fault as he had not paid attention to the exam schedules.

He had been paying rapt attention to Lily for the past three years and he still had no idea what the hell was going on.

She closed her eyes and said, “Because I…” Her voice suddenly lowered itself to inaudible levels, leaving James hearing to strain her.

“Sorry?”

She took a breath and started over. “Because, you see, I'm…” She mumbled incoherently again. It was rather infuriating, as he'd just gotten up his hopes for getting a straight answer out of her.

“Still didn't catch it.”

Lily squeezed her eyes shut and balled her hands into fists. “Oh, isn't it obvious? I like you!”

James was stunned, to say the least. His mouth opened and closed in a good imitation of the goldfish he'd had when he was ten. The fish had died due to neglect, so James really wished he wasn't doomed to the same fate.

“You do?” he asked numbly.

“Yes!”

“Oh. Oh!” A giddy smile broke out across his face.

“I'm, I'm, I'm completely... completely…”

James raised an eyebrow and regretted all previous thoughts of suicide and homicide he'd had.

Her eyes shot open and her face went from strained to murderous in under a second. “You fucking idiot! I hate you!”

“I- what?!” This, of course, was not at all how James had been expecting her to end her statement. He had been anticipating something along the lines of “head over heels in love with you,” or “lost without you,” or even “insane because I've been harboring secret feelings towards you for years but didn't want to say anything because that would have been too easy.”

“I hate you!” she repeated, equally loudly. “Because I don't hate you, in fact, I... complete-opposite you, and it's all your fault.”

“I... Well... If it helps, I complete-opposite you, too,” James offered with a faint smile. “And that's been driving me mad for years.”

Again, he'd thought her next move would be to elucidate her feelings for him, but once more, she made him wonder if she wasn't the slightest bit insane when she slapped his chest. He wasn't sure how much more physical abuse he could take, but then he remembered it was some physical contact, which was definitely better than nothing.

“You... Urgh... Stop it!” she said, resting her hand on his chest.

“Stop what? I already stopped bloody cursing.” He took a moment to think about that, then added, “Mostly.”

She laughed weakly, and her other hand joined its counterpart.

“Well,” said James, “it seems to me we complete-opposite each other. Funny, that.”

“It does seem that way, doesn't it?”

“I'm pretty sure I know what happens when two people completely-opposite each other,” James told her, “but I might be mistaken. Feel free to correct me.”

“Mm?”

He leaned his head down and kissed her passionately, yada yada yada. Use your imaginations, people. We're not stopping you.

Some minutes later, however long it takes for you to indulge your fantasies, the couple was startled to hear a cry of, “Miss Evans!”

The couple in question, however, decided to ignore said yelling.

“Mister Potter!” came the voice that sounded suspiciously like their Head of House, followed by the approach of footsteps. She stood next to them, the pervy old lady, and muttered, “Well, it's about bloody time.” She sighed and walked away, mumbling something about how she never got kissed that early in the morning.

Lily broke away from…whatever she was doing… to ask, “What did she just say?”

“Fuck if I know.”

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