A/N: (edited 10.09.08) Welcome to the errant plot that became my main story. It's Lily/James, the way I would see it happening if we travelled inside of Lily's mind for a year in canon. Read, enjoy, and review!


"I love you," I said, feeling the blackness closing in as I leaned my head against his chest. And before I succumbed once more to the bliss of unconsciousness, I thought I heard him reply.

"I know," he said. "I just wanted to be sure you knew it, too."



Unfortunately, it is a strange paradox. No one understands why I hate James Potter, but most people agree with me that he is definitely not likeable, and his head deserves a deflating. But people don't understand why we fight, why I absolutely detest me, and why it is absolutely essential to me that he should hate me in turn. That is why I find it very disturbing when he apologizes to me.

Thank the lord, he stopped that extremely disorienting behavior of fifth year, where he set upon me whenever he saw me and practically ordered me to go out with him. Frankly, I almost prefer the bickering, because it's a little easier on the old skin and bones, per say. More to the point, it's what I'm used to—it's not disturbing and upsetting and new. I know how to deal with it.

James Potter, unfortunately, is in all of my classes. He is obnoxious, rude, and a complete and utter brute. He is also, unfortunately, Head Boy to my Head Girl. Last year, it was bearable to have him in this school simply by virtue of the fact that he was only in a few of my classes. I don't know how I've survived this long.

Again, unfortunately (in regard to James Potter, there seems to be no end of using this word) it is not an unusual occurrence to have teachers take us aside and inform us that if we do not stop shouting at each other in class there will be problems. The particular incident I am referring to is Transfiguration, yesterday. We all were required to do a project, and I had researched the transformation of Anamagi. James, who knows altogether to much about everything, heartily disputed one of my points. A pitched battle ensued, and although many people are of the opinion that I lose my temper altogether too frequently, I would like the dispute the point. I become angry often, especially around James, however, it is a rare occurrence when I actually completely lose my temper. I am not often in a rage, and am usually able to back down and avoid a real fight, and keep my head. But something in James Potter brings out the worst in me.

And so, this particular battle climaxed in the extremely unfortunate event of me shouting "SHUT THE HELL UP, ASSHOLE!" Because, after seven years, I was a little bit tired. While everyone was busy looking shellshocked, I excused mysef to the ladies room. Unsuprisingly, although indeed unfortunately (I was dreadfully late to lunch,) Professor McGonagall took us aside after class. James was looking sullen from my earlier outburst, but I was still a bit flushed.

"This must stop," Professor stated, and I arched my neck and looked James straight in the eye.

"I'm sorry that I responded, Professor," I said archly, giving that James Potter glare for glare. "However, I feel that under the circumstances, it was appropriate."

"No," she replied, and I have never heard her sound so extremely firmly opposed against an idea. "Under no more circumstances are you two allowed to fight. You are head boy and girl. I suggest you begin to act as such." And the one point that kept me from tears was the small fact that as she swept off, she said, "and Miss Evans, it is not your response to Mister Potter's provoking that worries me so much as the fact that he seems unperturbed."

And with that, I was left, locked in a glare contest with James Potter, hated archenemy. It was funny, this enmity. We had been friends, coming on the Hogwarts Express. We had laughed together, and eaten so many Sour Patch Wizlets that I thought I might explode. He had teased me and called me carrot top in an endearing way. But somehow, with classes and all, the friendly teasing began to become meaner, and the easy friendship began to dissapear. It was replaced by something slightly disturbing, which was now just sort of a part of my normal life—a deep and passionate loathing. Right just now, it reared its ugly head in my chest, along with a sense of righteous anger—who is he to ruin all my classes.

"This has got to stop," I say flatly, angrily, and he turns, surprised that I'm willingly speaking to him in a tone that hasn't risen several octaves. "This isn't meant to be another confrontation," I amend quickly before he can say anything, and his jaw clicks shut. "But come on," I say, surprised to hear myself continuing calmly. "How many teachers are going to have to take us aside like three year olds and tell us to play nicely?" I ask bitterly, and see him grin ruefully in response. But I wasn't done yet, and a rueful grin wasn't the kind of response I was content with. Taking a deep breath, I spit it out. "I'm sorry for what it is you detest about me," I said, pretending not to notice the brief flicker of shock that flashed across his face before he schooled it to neutrality. "But please, can we just make a sort of peace, an agreement to never speak again?" Then I waited, as he obviously composed his own mental speech.

He began carefully. "I'm sorry for the way I've treated you," he said slowly, tasting the words. They were obviously new to him, as they were to me. "I've been a jerk to you," he continued. "and I will stop. We just…have different opinions." He said, and seeing the look on my face, hurried to finish. "That's not a bad thing," he amended. "But the next time I have a problem with you…I'll just let it go." He stopped, for a moment, and I leaped in.

"Don't silence yourself on my account." I managed to pour out in a rush. "I just don't want to fight anymore." And with that I was turning heel and going, as fast as I could, in the other direction, uncaring of where precisely it was leading me.

I'm pretty sure I heard him add something to my retreating back, something that sounded disturbingly like "and I don't hate you…not at all…" but I ignored that because it was something that I couldn't deal with right now. My hatred of James Potter was one thing in my life that was constant and steady. I wasn't going to let it be disrupted by a simple eventful day in Transfiguration.


A/N: hmm? Review!