Search Home Read Write Forum Login Register
Disclaimer: I don't own it (Jo does).

I didn’t do that, I didn’t do that, I didn’t do that, I didn’t do that, I didn’t do that, I didn’t! It didn’t happen. It’s never happened. I didn’t do it, I didn’t do it, I didn’t do it, I didn’t do it, I didn’t- OH, GOD, I DID!

I can never go out in public again. I, Lily Evans, will live the rest of my life as a loner! I can’t speak to anyone ever again!

Perhaps I should calm down. It’s not that bad. Not that bad? Not that bad?! What AM I talking about?!

But nevertheless, I should calm down. I should look back at things. Maybe it wasn’t the worst that could have happened…

“Miss Evans, please sit down.”

“But Professor McGonagall-”

“Sit down.”


“Sit down with Mr Potter now!”

I sat down, but glared up at McGonagall again. What had I ever done to deserve this? I wanted to yell at her for placing me together with the devil. I’ll yell. Now! “But… why?” I said weakly. Damn.

“Because I chose the pairs. You and Mr Potter will be working together on this project, and no, I will not change that.” She walked away, up to her desk.

Don’t leave me! I thought desperately.

She turned to us. “You have got the whole day. Hand your work in to me when you are finished, five o’clock is the latest. I’ll repeat what I told you before for the ones that did not pay attention.” She sent me a stern look.

What? I did pay attention! Couldn’t she tell Potter to pay attention instead? Stupid, old-

“There are three essays each pair shall deliver,” McGonagall continued. “One of them you will write by your own. That makes two together. That essay, or the two essays I should say, shall be about either Transfiguration, Charms, Potions or Defence Against the Dark Arts in general. Instructions on what to include are written on the blackboard. Now, the third essay shall be written by both of you together. You will have to work rather close. It shall be about a Muggle. You decide what’ll happen, but make it orginal. Remember, five o’clock.”

All the students rose up. I did too, even though I was a little shaky.

“Lucky you’re with me, Evans,” Potter said, winking at me.

“You call it lucky; I call it the saddest misfortune of my life.” Well, that was how I felt.

“Aw, Evans! It could’ve been worse! You could’ve ended up with that wart-covered freak in Ravenclaw!”

I snorted. “He’s a nice person, though.”

“I can be nice, too,” said Potter. Then he added in a whisper I was just able to hear, but which I ignored, “you just wait.”

And he was actually rather nice. He left me alone when I did my Potion essay, and we wrote this cool story about a Muggle named Trevor who found a wand which he was, unfortunately, able to use. Lots of hilarious stuff happened (including getting a cow in the head while tap-dancing in shorts and bowler- the authors found that just a bit amusing), before he ended up turning into a toad that can live for hundreds of years. I have always got compliments on the stories I write, but I never knew Ja- Potter was that talented. Potter. POTTER! I almost called him Jam- I mean, mentioned him by first name. Oh, no. This reminds me of why I was so upset in the first place. No, I can’t think of it. I can’t. But I do. I think of the happenings later, at eight o’clock to be exact.

We were all wondering why all the seventh-years were called back to the Great Hall. We found McGonagall in front of everyone.

“Now, I will not hold you here too long, as I am sure you all are quite busy with your homework right now, and are impatient to get back.”

Sirius Black snorted.

“Well, I wanted to announce something important,” Professor McGonagall said. “Miss Evans, Potter, come up to me, please.”

Probably some Head stuff, I thought bored. McGonagall was right; I had a lot of work to do.

“As you know, we had a project today,” the Professor began. “What you were not told was that it was in fact a competition, a contest to find the best authors. Several of you showed real talent, but one pair in particular impressed. The two of them are both extremely gifted, but I must say that I did not expect them to work as close as they did. The result was more than satisfying. Therefor, give a big applause to miss Lily Evans and Mr Potter, who have proved themselves worthy of a trophy.”

I was completely shocked. I had never heard that woman give out so many compliments in such short time. And she gave them to me. Me! Lily Evans! And to Potter.

I could hear most of the students clapping their hands together, but I didn’t really take notice. I just looked at the boy beside me. I was so proud of myself and I couldn’t keep it all inside. “Oh, James!” I squealed.

Shock one. I said Jame- I mean, I referred to him by his first name. Yeah, I know. It was bad. I’m ashamed of myself. Want to know what SHOCK TWO (yes, with capitals) is? Do you? I know you don’t, but I’ll try to tell you, anyway.

I- I- I- I… KISSED HIM! No, I’m so not telling you details. It’s bad enough just remembering it.

When I realised what I was doing, I pulled away from him, away from those soft, wonderful lips… Well, as I was saying, I pulled away. I’ve no idea what he, or anyone else, looked like after my actions as I was running from the Hall at that time. (I ran away from my trophy! I don’t even know what it looks like!) I can only assume they were shocked, that they didn’t believe their eyes. I hope they don’t believe their eyes, and that Ja- Potter doesn’t believe his lips. Maybe they will think it was a dream.

Now I’m sitting on the floor in the girls’ bathroom, inside the girls’ dormitory, in the Gryffindor tower, on seventh floor, in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, not too far away from Hogsmeade, in Britain, in Europ- all right, too much information. I’ve been sitting here for hours and I haven’t let any of my roommates come inside. I have brushed my teeth five times, I’ve taken mint-pastills, I’ve used all my lipgloss and I even considered showering my mouth in perfume, but I didn’t know if that was healthy.

But I did use soap, deodorant, shampoo and water.

Just kidding.

But I did use water, though.

Well, no matter what I do, I can’t get the taste of his lips off mine, and I know I’ll never forget it.

And do you know what? I’M TALKING TO MY HEAD! Haven’t you noticed? Well, of course you have, as you actually are my head! That means you’re me… I’m you… or… my head is mine, so you must be… because that head is not yours! God, how I need to see a psychologist…

I’m going insane, for Merlin’s sake!

And all because of him and his damn good lips. Jam- Potter.


A/N: So. I'm finished! Did you like it? Or... you didn't like it? Please tell me what you think! :)

Track This Story: Feed

Write a Review

out of 10


Get access to every new feature the moment it comes out.

Register Today!