Disclaimer: I do not own anything. All characters belong to JK Rowling. No copyright infringement intended.

A/N: I promise you that I am working on the next chapter of Our Moments. I did not waste any time on this as I wrote it last year and it has just been sitting on my computer begging to be uploaded. I am bringing it to you as a peace offering in the hope that you will forgive my insanely long delay. Sorry!

Anyway, this is a super cheesy little ball of fluff that I was thinking about one night when I couldn't fall asleep. It's also my first real foray into writing using Lily's voice…I don't know how well I accomplished it. I hope you enjoy!

Downpour

7th year…is hard. That's all there really is to say. Every lesson teachers are cramming more and more homework down our throats and saying things like, "You'll never get a decent job if you don't pass your N.E.W.T.s" or "You'll forever be employed as the day maid at the Leaky Cauldron." Then there's Head duties which, though exhausting and time consuming, would be satisfying if my partner wasn't an absolute idiot who can't make up his mind about whether he wants to be helpful and friendly or distant and annoying.

Attempting to have anything that even slightly resembles a social life is impossible.

It's weekends like these, the rare Hogsmeade weekend, to remind me why I ever loved being at Hogwarts in the first place. I don't even enjoy the post in the mornings like I used to. I just glare at those filthy owls, daring then to crap on my homework again.

Of course, I'm only here for an hour or so for my date with Andrew and then it's straight back up to the castle because McGonagall assigned me extra homework on top of the two essays I already owe her because I couldn't manage to make any headway on my human transfiguration spell (though to be fair, I considered it a great accomplishment that I had managed to stay awake through the class in the first place).

My conscience twinges a bit as I look over at Andrew. We are sitting in the Three Broomsticks and he is jabbering on about something or other, I'm not really paying that much attention. I shouldn't have said yes to him when he asked me out last week. He's a very nice person, but we've never really had much to say to one another and I know that the likelihood of this going anywhere at all is very slim indeed. But he's sweet and I've known he wanted to ask me out for ages so when he finally summoned the courage to ask me, those baby blues staring into mine so eagerly, what else could I say but yes? I needed a break from life so desperately and here was one packaged and gift wrapped with a giant bow just ready for the taking.

Thunder crashes outside and all of a sudden the light rain that has been trickling from the sky steadily for the past four days turns into an absolute downpour. We can hear the huge drops pounding on the ceiling drowning out the already deafening noise in the packed pub. Andrew laughs when he has to yell in order for me to hear him.

I guess I should start paying attention to what he's saying as I won't be able to pretend I didn't hear him with him screaming in my ear like this.

"Billups is such a skilled coach! There's no way the Cannons will be at the bottom of the division again this year!" he yells.

Oh, sweet Merlin! He's talking about Quidditch. Of course he is. Is there anything more cliché than a man who talks about sports to a girl who doesn't really want to be on a date with him in the first place?

The Universe, humorous as always, has an immediate answer to that question. With another clap of thunder, the door to the pub slams open and who should be standing in the doorway but none other than James Potter. Rain is coming down in sheets behind him and despite the umbrella in his hand, there are rain drops splattered on his t-shirt and the bottom of his jeans are soaked. He is looking around the pub, almost frantically, those fathomless hazel eyes searching for something they aren't able to find. Then they land on me. I almost blush with the intensity of his gaze. Thankfully, I've learned the valuable skill of pushing that blush back by remembering the latest idiotic prank he and his band of immature morons have pulled. I try to think back and then I realize that it's not going to work because they had convinced Brady Wilkins that Dumbledore was trying to recruit him into a secret society and had given him the special task of spying on Professor McGonagall. Watching him follow her into the staff bathroom had been the highlight of my week. I started to giggle just from the memory of it.

"I know! What a ridiculous thing to say!" Andrew hollered, ecstatic that I had found his joke amusing.

I held my false smile and tried to force out another laugh, thankful for the noise as a disguise for my terrible acting skills. "Yeah! Hilarious!" I agreed.

He went right on talking and I went right on tuning him out, returning my attention to the door. James wasn't alone any longer. He was with Marlene, helping her out of her raincoat. He hung it up for her, placing it on a rung that she was no where near tall enough to retrieve for herself. Then he grabbed her hand, turned and locked eyes with me again and headed right for my table.

My head told me to ignore him and to turn my attention back to Andrew who seemed oblivious to my lack of interest in whatever he was discussing. I knew that I should care nothing about the way James' hand completely covered Marlene's and that I should be focused on my date rather than on that idiotically determined look on James' face.

But instead I just sit there staring, horrified as he marches right up to our table, plasters an insincere smile on his face and says loudly, "Lily! Andrew! What a surprise to see you here!" I glare at him, warning him that there would be hell to pay unless he said goodbye and kept on walking. He ignored me. "Do you mind if Marlene and I join you?" I just glared more angrily at him but he seemed completely unfazed.

"We're on a date, James," I bit out through gritted teeth. Andrew smiled smugly at James, but again, he looked completely unaffected.

"Great! So are we. Let's double," he suggested and then without waiting for consent from either of us he pulled out a chair from Marlene, waited for her to sit and then took a seat for himself.

Marlene looked incredulously over at him. "We are?" she murmured.

"Yeah…did I not tell you that?" he asked, untroubled. She rolled her eyes at him but sat resigned to whatever he had up his sleeve. She at least had the decency to flash an apologetic grimace at me. "So…what's up?" James asked, looking interestedly at us.

I was still glaring daggers at him and praying that he would suddenly see a much cozier table behind us (well…maybe not that cozy) and decide that he'd rather be sitting there. I was beginning to feel uncomfortable with the way the knees on those ridiculously long legs of his were brushing against mine underneath the table.

"We were just talking about the Cannon's chances for the Cup this summer," I finally said, hoping that my tone of voice would make it clear that he wasn't welcome.

"Yeah," Andrew began, excitement in his voice. "Coach Billups has a whole new…"

"You hate talking Quidditch," James interrupted, completely ignoring Andrew and addressing only me.

"No, I don't," I argued defensively. I knew it was obvious that I was lying, but I didn't want James to embarrass Andrew. Plus, arguing with James was second nature by now. Even if I agreed with him, I would argue simply out of habit. James knew I was lying too and looked to be on the verge of telling me so when Madam Rosmerta walked up carrying two large tankards of Butterbeer.

"James! I didn't know you were here!" she trilled, clearly delighted. I rolled my eyes. Why did everyone think he was so charming? It wasn't fair that one person could be so gifted at getting everything they wanted out of everyone. "Do you and Marlene want something to drink?"

"We'll just take a couple more Butterbeers," he answered with a smile and a wink. "Unless you want something stronger, Marlene."

"Butterbeer sounds great," Marlene said, cocking her eyebrow at James who again ignored it.

Madam Rosmerta set our drinks down and then hurried off to fill the new order.

"So, Evans, tell me…if you were so enraptured in your discussion about Quidditch, what was Andrew here telling you?"

I scoffed at him, trying to buy myself some time to remember something, anything, that Andrew had mentioned. Maybe some part of my brain was listening subconsciously. But when I thought back over the last few minutes, the only images that came to me were the ones of James: tall and lean, the adorably stupid way his glasses were sliding down his wet nose, the way his eyes seemed to smolder whenever they penetrated my own.

"Well, we…um…were just talking about how Billups would coach the Cannons out of last place," I stuttered slowly, grinning at the end and hoping against hope that James would just let it be.

No such luck.

He leaned forward folding his arms on the table, a crease running across his forehead as he scrutinized me. "Using what training methods?" he asked before quirking an eyebrow, knowing he'd won.

"Andrew was just explaining them to me when you got here. Just because I don't like talking to you about Quidditch doesn't mean that I don't like talking about it." James still looked disbelieving, Andrew looking back and forth between the two of us. "I just don't like talking to you in general, Quidditch or otherwise."

Take that you arrogant jerk.

I smirked at him and sat back in my seat, crossing my arms. He grimaced at me and sat back as well when Madam Rosmerta appeared at our table again. He stood up to grab the drinks from her but when he did, he bumped the table which managed to knock both of our tankards over and both of them spilled onto Andrew.

Shock was my first instinct. I grabbed napkins and started wiping at Andrew, anger bubbling up inside of me spurred on by the fact that James was fighting back peals of laughter. "Sorry, man," he choked out in between laughs.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" I screamed at him, shaking with rage. Again, in a simply infuriating way, he seemed completely and utterly unaffected by my temper. He was still laughing.

"Aw, come on…it was an accident. I swear."

"I am on a date, James."

"I know…with Andrew Davies," James said looking revolted. "I came to rescue you."

"I don't need rescuing!" I hollered. "Especially not by you!" Had I been thinking clearly, I might have noticed the way his calm exterior faltered, but I was so angry all I could focus on was the stupid, smug smirk still on his face. "And besides, we were having a good time."

James scoffed. "I doubt that." My eyes were huge and I was now using every ounce of will power I possess to keep myself from hitting him. Poor Andrew was flinching after each powerful swipe of my napkin. "Despite the fact that you have nothing in common with this…person…you said you were talking about Quidditch." He said it as if that said it all and that no further explanation was needed.

"I happen to like Quidditch!" I exploded.

"I'm not saying you don't like Quidditch. But you hate talking about it."

"How do you know," I screamed, stamping my foot in frustration.

"Because, the last time I brought it up you hit me!" And for the first time, James's calm demeanor broke, revealing his matching frustration with me. It was actually satisfying, knowing that he was upset too. It's not fair that I'm always the one blowing my top while he gets to stay even tempered the whole time.

"Maybe I just needed an excuse." I glared at him and he glared back. "And for your information, Andrew is nice and thoughtful and kind and…WHERE ARE YOU GOING?" I yelled in disbelief as James turned and walked away from me, out into the rain. I chased after him, pushing the door so hard that it slammed into the outside wall of the pub. He turned back to face me but continued walking backwards. My view of him was becoming slightly obscured by the falling drops but I could still make out the infuriatingly resolute look on his face.

"I don't want to talk to you when you're like this, so I'm leaving," he stated matter-of-factly.

"In the rain?"

"I figure there's a better chance you won't follow me if you're worried about messing up your hair for your precious date."

"What about Marlene?" I yelled, remaining under the overhang. James was already soaked. His hair was flat on his head and his t-shirt was clinging tightly to his chest.

"Explain to her what happened and tell her I'm sorry. She'll understand," James called before turning back around and waving over his head.

I teetered on the edge of the overhang, my toes at the line between the dry concrete I stood on and the wet stone of the street. I was watching James's retreating back, becoming more furious with each step he took. A small voice in my brain told me that I should just turn around and go back inside. Go back to my date. But I was so angry and so tired of this stupid game we seemed to constantly be playing that I ignored the voice. I set my mouth in a hard line, sighed resolutely and then ran out into the rain after him.

The noise from the downpour kept him from hearing my approaching footsteps. Grabbing him roughly around the arm, I turned him around to face me. He did not look calm anymore. "I wasn't done talking to you!" I shrieked, the roar of the rain beating on my ear drums now.

"What are you doing with him, Lily?" he yelled back, gesturing wildly at the pub where neither of us had noticed that a few people, including Andrew, Marlene, and a whole table of Slytherins were standing under the overhang watching. "I don't care how 'nice and thoughtful and kind' you say he is. He's an idiot and you deserve better than that."

Under the overhang, Andrew muttered an indignant, "Hey!" but we were still completely oblivious to our audience.

"You need someone smart and funny and…and someone who challenges you! You think he would ever stand up to you? He would just stand there and let you have your way all the time. You'd be bored! You need someone who isn't afraid of you!" James continued, ticking characteristics off on his fingers, his voice growing hoarse.

"Like who?" I was blinking furiously at the rain that was dripping into my eyes and wiping hair off of my face irately. He always seemed to be too into my dating business but he'd never had the audacity to tell me the kind of person I should be dating…at least not this year. "Like you?"

James looked taken aback for a moment but recovered quickly. "Well, not me specifically, but yeah, someone like me, sure."

"I'm happy with Andrew," I said defiantly.

"Don't kid yourself. You're not happy. You're safe!"

"AND WHAT'S WRONG WITH THAT?" I erupted, flailing my arms. "WHAT'S WRONG WITH WANTING TO BE WITH SOMEONE WHO DOESN'T MAKE ME CRAZY? WHAT'S WRONG WITH BEING WITH SOMEONE LIKE ANDREW?"

"YOU'RE BORED!" James roared. "YOU'RE SETTLING!"

"THAT'S JUST BECAUSE I GOT TIRED OF WAITING FOR YOU!" I bellowed, my anger wiping away all pretenses and all protections I had formed around my feelings. James looked at me silently, dumbstruck. There was no room in my body for embarrassment…no room to think about what I was saying before I said it. I was so angry and so frustrated and so utterly tired of pretending I wasn't feeling a certain way about him that the words just seemed to spill out of my mouth before I could stop them. "You're infuriating! Whenever I want you around, you're always too busy with your friends or with Quidditch or with some stupid girl who only likes you because you're a Quidditch hero. And when I don't want you around, like now, like when I'm on a date, here you are!" I paused and looked at him for a long moment breathing heavily, my chest rising and falling rapidly. It finally began to hit me…the weight of what I was saying. The significance of it. It would change everything, no matter what his reaction. Nothing would ever be the same again. I figured I may as well just let it all out since there was no turning back now. "I couldn't get rid of you for six years, but now that I actually want you…you're not interested. I wish you would just make up your mind. Either you like me or you don't…either leave me alone or don't but STOP with this relentless indecisiveness. It's driving me insane!"

James was still looking at me, bewildered confusion on his face. Clearly he had not expected anything like this to come spilling out of my mouth.

"Either kiss me or get out of my way but you can't have it both ways. You can't not date me and keep me from dating other people, that's just not fair…"

James's bewilderment had gone and a sudden fierce look had settled in his eyes and before I knew what was happening he had grabbed my face and pulled me toward his body. His mouth was on mine, hot and passionate. His lips were moving against mine with such a fierceness that I could tell he'd been holding it in for a long time. My body responded quickly, my arms wrapping around his neck and my fingers getting lost in his mane of sopping hair. His arms found their way around my waist, pulling me tightly against his body. Desire gripped me like I'd never known before and I clutched to him, trembling.

Everything around us seemed to fade away. I was completely unaware of the rain pounding on us and the noise of the people behind us. All I had room to focus on was James, his passion, his lips, the sweet release of my own body.

When we finally pulled away from one another, both breathing quite heavily, I just stared up into his eyes. He was staring back down at me with an emotion that looked like a mixture of wonder, disbelief, and inextinguishable happiness. I didn't know what to say, but I'm sure that my expression mirrored that of his.

And then he grabbed my hand, intertwined our fingers and pulled me back toward the pub. "Come on," he murmured. "I'll buy you a new Butterbeer."