A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed or put this story on their alert list... Here's the second chapter of this two-shot. Hopefully it doesn't disappoint.
It's James's POV
When I came to, it felt like I'd gotten beaten over the head with a bat. Oh, wait, probably because I was! Cursing, I tried to sit up, but it made my head pound and feel like I was going to throw up. Either that or die. I wasn't sure which one would be the better option.
I saw that Sirius, Peter, and Remus were sitting around my bed, along with the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Groaning, I said, "We won, right? Tell me we won, or I will go hunt down Gordon Flint right now, and strangle him with my bare hands."
Lucy Barnes, our Seeker, piped up, "Yep, James, we won. I caught the Snitch. Even Flint's cheating didn't stop that."
"Please tell me someone beat him senseless or that he's got a detention or something."
Sirius smirked. "Ah, McGonagall got hold of him right after you made it up here." He laughed a little. "I don't think he's going to have any free time for a long time."
Grimacing, I said, "Good. Stupid git."
Dean Winfield, one of the other Chasers, said, "Well, good to see you're alright, James."
Sam, his brother, our Keeper, said, "Yeah. If you'd like I could hex Flint in the hallway so his fingernails keep growing…" He sounded hopeful.
I laughed a little, and said, "That's not necessary, Sam. Thanks anyway, though."
Later, after Madam Pomfrey had chased away the team and shortly afterwards, Moony, Padfoot, and Wormtail, I was laying on my bed, wishing I didn't have to spend the night. I was busy plotting ways to get back at Flint, either with the help of the Marauders, or my Invisibility Cloak. I had closed my eyes and was preparing to fall asleep, perhaps – I mean, there's not a whole lot to do in the hospital wing – when I heard soft footsteps and whispered words. I opened my eyes, and saw, to my surprise, Lily Evans, talking to Madam Pomfrey.
"…can have visitors, yes," Madam Pomfrey was saying. Lily nodded and then stepped quietly over towards my bed. She sat down on the bed next to mine, and said, seeing that I was awake, "So…how're you feeling, James?"
I didn't have anything to say to that – first off, Lily Evans had asked me how I was feeling. It wasn't even sarcastic, unless I was suffering from a pleasant kind of headache that blocked out sarcasm. That didn't seem likely, though. Second, though, she'd called me James. Not Potter, not 'You arrogant, ignorant toerag'. James.
She looked a little nervous at being in the hospital wing to visit me, but she repeated, "Er, James? Can you talk? Or is it your speech that the bat affected?"
Blushing a little, I said, "Erm, no, the bat didn't mess with my speech." She looked a little happier at that. I asked, "How come you came to see me?"
This time she blushed and I felt myself grinning. "Were you…worried about me?" I didn't think it was possible for her face to get any redder – but it managed fairly well. I couldn't believe it, really. Lily Evans, worried about me. This proved it – the girl really did love me. She just didn't realize it yet…or maybe she had, and she just hadn't admitted it yet.
"Aw…does darling Lily Evans actually care about me?" I grinned.
Lily pursed her lips and she said stiffly, "You fell from your broom because you were hit in the head. Forgive me for having compassion, even to a toerag like you, Potter."
Oops, we were back to 'toerag' and 'Potter'.
"Okay, okay, Lily. Don't get all upset, honestly."
She grimaced. "You know," I found myself saying to her, "you really should go out with me now. A pity date, perhaps, but I am injured. Doesn't that deserve a get well kiss, at least?"
She rolled her eyes. "You," she said, "are incorrigible. I don't even know why I came up here. You're an arrogant toad, and I should have realized that, rather than made a fool of myself and come up here to see if you were okay. And, no, I wasn't worried about you, you turd. Nor do I particularly care about what happens to insolent toerags like you!" She stood up.
"Aw, Lily, come on," I said. "I didn't mean to make you mad, really."
She huffed, but slowed down. Of course, my mouth hasn't learned to listen to my brain yet, because it blurted out, "You love me, don't you Evans? That's why you came to visit me."
I expected a slap at the least, making my headache forty trillion times worse, but she only blushed redder than I'd ever seen her before, vehemently denied it, and then said goodnight, albeit stiffly.
Which only made me certain that I was right: Lily Evans really did love me. Insert insane grin here.
Suddenly, I almost wanted to thank Flint for putting me in the hospital wing.