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The summer passed slowly. All she could think of was him. She wanted to fight with him. To battle her wits against his. Purely to remind him what a slimy git he was, of course. Wanting to snog him after the fact had nothing to do with it. Nothing at all.

She strictly wanted to yell at him. Which is why when she received her Hogwarts letter, informing her she was a prefect, she was enthralled. She said it was a great honor, which it was. However, if she were honest with herself, which she wasn’t, she was thrilled to have another reason to yell at him.

On the Hogwarts express, she attended the prefect’s meeting and was both delighted and disappointed to find that her partner would be Remus Lupin. Delighted because the two got on quite well, and disappointed because Remus was his friend, and might keep him in check, which would dwindle her opportunities to fight with him. If she was being honest with herself, that is. Or he would let him run rampant, which is what she told people.

The new Gryffindor prefects walked from the meeting together, chatting aimlessly about the upcoming year. They arrived at Remus’ compartment first. Her heart beat in anticipation. He would be there, she was sure of it. Remus slid the door open. He was. He caught a glimpse of her as she bid goodbye to her partner.

“What, Evans?” he snapped, “A prefect now? As if that stick wasn’t shoved far enough up your arse.”

“Made it on the train, Potter? Funny you could fit through door with that fat head of yours.”

The three observers of the cabin groaned in unison. “Let’s go guys,” Sirius Black suggested, “Leave these two to fight in peace.”

“Or tear each other to pieces.” Remus quipped while leaving.

He barely waited for the door to close before he smashed his mouth onto hers. She gave in slightly before snapping back to reality. She pushed him away.

“Potter!” she hissed, “People can see!”

“So,” He moved closer to her again, “Let them.”

“No!” she snapped. “No one can know!”

“Why not?” he asked angrily.

“Because!” She huffed. “Look, Potter,” she whispered harshly, “I’m fine with snogging you,” she stared straight into his eyes and poked his chest, “but that’s it. No handholding, no hugs or sweet nothings. Nothing more.” She turned to leave, but looked back at him, “And no one can know.” She faced the door again, intent on leaving.

“Fine,” he stated, “Not like I’d want anyone to know I’m snogging a bitch like you anyway.”

She paused at the door, and pulled down the covering on the window. She whipped around, charging him like a bull. She pushed him against the window and kissed him ferociously.

Their game continued. The rules were simple. Provoke each other. Scream at each other. Snog each other. Do this as frequently as possible. But don’t ever, ever kiss and tell. They were not in a relationship.

Which is why, when the handsome and charming Ravenclaw, Joseph Goode asked her out, Lily gladly accepted. They didn’t announce it. Instead, they held hands when they were walking to the same place, studied together, occasionally stole kisses, and waited for the news to trickle down the grapevine. They made it almost a week before his ears were enlarged to ten times their original size.

“You have a fucking boyfriend?” James whispered harshly. He had cornered her in a deserted corridor.

She looked him directly in the eye, just as strictly as he was, “Not that it’s any of your business,” she moved away from him, “but as a matter of fact, I do.” She began to walk away.

He grabbed her arm and spun her around. “Are you kidding me?”

“No,” she shrugged him off. She began walking away again.

“What’s your problem, Evans?” he hollered after her.

She turned on her heel. “I don’t have a problem, Potter.” She spat.

“Oh, really?” He pretended to think, “You have a boyfriend, but you’re snogging me,” he paused, “That sounds like a problem, Evans.”

“No, see, because I was snogging you, as in past tense, when I didn’t have a boyfriend. And I’m not now, when I do have a boyfriend. No problem.” She turned to walk away, but stopped, “We are not, in a relationship, Potter. I’m allowed to date.”

“Fine,” he seemed to concede. “Have a boyfriend. I don’t care.” He stepped closer to her, and brought his lips to hers. It wasn’t rough, or angry like the others. It was soft, and sweet, and gentle. Not demanding, but still passionate. He pulled back before she consciously started to respond. “Just remember that.”

She broke up with him the next day. Not for him, in any way, but because she had decided she just didn’t feel that way about Joseph. Nobody could feel that way about anyone else after a kiss like that.

James smirked when he found out.

From then on, a new rule was added. Don’t date.

James had nothing to do with her for the next week. It annoyed her. Normally they sno-fought and least twice a week. But since their last incident, James had ignored her. She wanted to change that.

“POTTER!” she screamed. He was relatively alone, perfect timing.

“What do you want, Evans?” he spat violently.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know, Potter!” The people around them cleared the area, bored and slightly frightened.

“No, Evans, I actually don’t.”

As soon as the last people had vacated their secluded corner of the common room, she kissed him. He pulled away from her almost immediately.

“So that’s what this is about?” he whispered curiously.

“Like you didn’t know.” She was straddling him, purring seductively in his ear. She came back to face him, her eyelashes brushing against the lenses of his glasses.

“No more boyfriend then?”

“No.” She was kissing him again, soft and slow.

“Good,” he murmured.

They continued kissing, sweetly this time, as opposed to their usually rough style. Their hands roamed over each other. Hair, face, chest, hips. Soon, Lily was aware that her blouse was slowly coming free of her skirt. She felt his rough hands on her stomach, her sides, her back. She relished in the feeling of his calluses on her smooth skin. Her own hands are tracing his face, feeling the soft almost-stubble that has grown there. She felt his hands rise, and fished them out before they go too far. She threads her smooth fingers between his rough ones.

“I thought you said no handholding?”

She pulled away from him and chuckled. “Shut up.” She said before kissing him again.

They both enjoyed their newfound style of kissing, more than they had thought possible. She preferred the sweetness of it. He liked that it tended to last longer than their angry trysts.

They began to seek each other out. He waited inside unused classrooms on her route back from the library. She snuck into the locker rooms after quidditch practice. It was still passionate, but it no longer required fighting for them to get there.

Lily gasped as she stumbled into a classroom she had not meant to enter. She saw him there immediately, smirking proudly. She simply rolled her eyes at his arrogance.

“How do you always know where I am?” she asked as he closed the door behind her and gently pushed her into it.

“Why does it matter?” he answered lightly before pressing his lips to hers. She shrugged it off as one of his many talents, and pulled him closer to her.

He unbuttoned her shirt slightly before placing his lips on her neck. Her eye rolled into the back of her head, and she leaned against the door, allowing him greater access. “James,” she moaned. Her use of his first name encouraged him greatly. His hands found their way up her shirt; she didn’t stop them. “James,” she was slightly louder this time. His hands crept up her skirt. He sucked at her neck, “James,” his hands crept higher. “James,” she was warning him now. His hands were at her hips, toying with her knickers. “James,” she was forceful. They moved inward. “Stop.” They came closer. “Stop.” Closer still. “Potter! Stop!”

He backed away from her, looking guilty. He mumbled an apology. She mumbled an acceptance.

He ran his hand through his hair, and she began to fix her uniform. She tucked in her blouse, pulled down her skirt and buttoned her shirt. When she reached her collar, she gently touched the spot James had been sucking. “Well,” she looked at him, “that’s going to leave a mark.” They both chuckled.

Lily waited patiently outside the quidditch pitch. Practice was almost over. She could see the figures in the sky come down one by one. Soon they began exiting. She counted them as they left. Benjy Fenwik; one. Ashley Jackson and Cindy Jones; two, three. John Clark; four. Robbie O’Keefe; five. Leah Thomas; perfect.

She slipped into the locker room and saw him there. He was wet from his shower and he hadn’t put a shirt on yet. He was bent over, waxing his broom. Quietly, she walked over to him. She snaked her arms around his waist, and began kissing his neck. “You taste like soap,” she crooned.

“Better than sweat?” he chuckled.

“Not a chance.”

He laughed and pulled her onto his lap. She traced the muscles on his chest as they kissed. Occasionally, one of her eyelids brushed against his glasses. His hands slipped under her t-shirt and she pulled away from him. He started to apologize; she placed a finger to his swollen lips. She pulled her shirt over her head, and watched in amusement as his eyes grew exponentially. Before she could say anything, or even smirk properly, he had kissed her enthusiastically in gratitude and excitement.

Of course, despite their newfound joy of snogging without screaming at each other, they still fought. It was the result several fundamental differences between the two. He was arrogant and mocked the helpless. She was humble and defended them. He thought he had the right to do whatever he pleased; she always obeyed the rules. He thought the Slytherins were evil and heartless. She looked for the good in everybody. They both had their rough points, and it created a violent friction when they clashed. It created the heat in their physical relationship, and created the inferno that the world saw.

Lily was lounging by the lake one summer afternoon, giggling with her girlfriends and dipping her feet into the water. They had just taken one of their O.W.L.’s, and they were all mentally exhausted. She silently contemplated how best to get James alone next, when she heard a commotion from down the shoreline.

She saw her best friend hanging by his ankle. Looking quickly around, she found his tormentors. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He was. She was furious. She stormed over to them.

The fight that ensued rivaled any that they had had before. And he had asked her out. James had asked her out. Of course she had said no. Asking, demanding really, a girl out while torturing her best friend was not really romantic. And anyway, as attractive, and completely snoggable as he was, James Potter was definitely not boyfriend material.

And then, then after being shocked to her core and completely enraged, the worst had happened. “Mudblood.” Sev had called her a mudblood. It broke her heart. Shattered it. She played it off coolly, as James defended her, but as she turned her heel and walked into the castle, tears threatened to fall.

She meandered the corridors, willing the tears back, and taking deep breaths. On the fifth floor she began to hear footsteps behind her. Hurried, loud, cocky, footsteps. She recognized them immediately, and therefore, was not surprised when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Pot-“ He cut her off with his mouth.

She lost herself, the way she always did when he kissed her that way. Passionate, fiery and, apologetic? She concentrated wholly on him, and was only vaguely aware when he started moving them into a nearby classroom.

He closed the door behind them, and she pushed him against it. Their kissing became more frantic. James, wanting more leverage, walked them back, until Lily hit a table. He moved his lips to her neck. She leaned her head back. He lifted her so she was sitting on the table. She pulled him closer to her and brought their lips together again. She unbuttoned the top of his shirt, and ran her hands over his chest. His found her thighs, and stroked them, steadily climbing higher. Once again, his lips found her neck. She moaned, “James.”

Encouraged, he led her downward. “James,” His hands were still climbing. She found his mouth and pressed hard against it. “James,” Their tongues were wrestling. His hands had found their way under her skirt. “James,” His fingers toyed with her knickers “James,” Immediately, he backed down. She broke away from him, and her hands moved to his belt. Her eyes were pleading with him. “Don’t stop.”

He obliged her. They pressed onward until she gasped in pain.

It didn’t last long. One moment of awkward, uncomfortable, strange pleasure, and then they separated. They turned away from each other and straightened the clothes they had left on in their haste.

She sat back down on the table, breathing deeply. He sat next to her, and attempted to comfort her with his hands on her shoulder. She simply jumped up immediately when he touched her. “I-I have to,” she could feel the tears burning her eyes, “I have to go.”

She left the room, leaving James bewildered. As soon as the door was closed behind her, she broke into a run. She didn’t know where she was going, but she knew it had to be away from there. Tears flowed down her eyes, and she couldn’t even bother to wipe them away.

AN: Love it? Hate it? Needs work? Please tell me what you think!

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