in•ter•lude (n.): a relatively short period of time between two longer periods; an intermission

"You're looking for replacement."

Lily Evans sighed and dodged James Potter's smirk, glancing instead over the Quidditch pitch. If it weren't for the argument shattering the otherwise peaceful silence, she supposed that the grounds would have been quite relaxing: the darkened sky brushed the horizon's vivid green with noticeable contrast, much, ironically, like the contrast between their personalities. Perhaps Dumbledore had faith in him, but Lily couldn't help but loathe his arrogance.

Funny, then, that she was going out of her way to pick fights with the boy.

Fuming, Lily repeated, "I'm not looking for replacement. Just because Snape is more of a toerag than any of you lot doesn't mean—"

He cut her off, clearly enjoying the conversation. "You spent five years being mates with just him and are trying to undo the damage by turning to the only bloke to have ever asked you out."

"Like I honestly care whether you fancy me, Potter," spat Lily, crossing her arms and feeling relatively relieved that James couldn't perform Legilmancy.

"Of course you do," replied James, his smirk widening, "because we both know Snape's always been head over heels for you as well."

Shocked at James's insensitivity, Lily almost hesitated—almost. "Funny, how blokes these days think the best way to get a girl is by treating her like absolute dirt."

"Oh, so is that why you're such a tomboy? Not that I'm complaining; you're the best Beater the Gryffindor team has ever seen…"

Blushing furiously, whether from anger or embarrassment he couldn't tell, Lily retorted, "Maybe I, unlike you, am perfectly happy single! If you weren't, I doubt that you'd have bothered asking me out every day for the last year… honestly, the nerve!"

"Ranting about me, are you?" asked James, mock-flattered. "Oh, I feel so validated as a person now that I have your approval—HEY!"

For Lily had whacked him upside the head with her very convenient Beater's club.

"Just for the record, Potter," she said coyly, stepping ahead as to end their conversation, "don't mess with me after next practice because this tomboy happens to have good aim."

The smirk faltered.

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A/N: August 2009 edits include a few wording changes and a rephrase to the first few paragraphs. Review!