A/N: This is what happens when you prompt me to write 2nd-year Jily. There was really no way around it.

You've been warned.

Love,

Jenna

- Learning the Terrain -

James Potter loved the winter holidays. For one thing, his parents let him do whatever he pleased, which was ace. For another, it meant the school grounds were ripe with untapped adventure - like a - like a maple tree full of syrup just waiting to be, well, tapped. Plus there was snow. White, bright, fluffy snow, the kind that blanketed every windowsill and evergreen within the eye's reach and made him feel snug and safe, like a kid curled up under a mile of quilted fluff made of baby chicken feathers and drinking hot chocolate. - Or some other very, very auspicious drink, like butterbeer. Butterbeer was auspicious because James was only twelve and, despite the very real threat of detention, had managed to procure some from The Three Broomsticks right under McGonagall's nose; in fact, he and his mates had smuggled enough butterbeer back into the castle to be swimming in the stuff for a week. (Fine, maybe not that long. Five days if they drank judiciously. But still. Five days - that was equal to one hundred twenty hours. One hundred and twenty.) And a bright, snowy winter was exactly the time when butterbeer went down best, because really, there was nothing better than a sweet, warm, fizzy drink when one was covered in clods of half-melted slush and couldn't feel one's toes.

Which was exactly the state James was about to leave Severus Snape in. But minus the butterbeer, because sod that sodding git.

"On my mark," James murmured. He squinted in concentration, aiming the tip of his wand just so. "'Bout six degrees over the horizon…steady…"

Because there he was, twirling like the bloody sugar plum fairy on that sodding ice, right in front of Lily Evans. Evans's laughter rang out in the frigid winter air, so clear and oddly sweet; James didn't know why it bothered him so to hear her laughing at something Snape had said, but it did, and that was the point. It just didn't seem right to him that Snape of all people would get to be friends with Evans. She was just out of his league, plain and simple. Right now, for instance: She was too pretty for Snape. The afternoon sun was lighting up her hair like a brilliant tangerine as she glided effortlessly over the frozen lake, her scarf billowing behind her as she spun, faster and faster as she clasped her mittened hands close to her chest and let her little knitted cap with that stupid pom-pom fly off her head and land somewhere in a snowbank fifteen feet away.

"Aim for his pants," James instructed Sirius. "I'll take his head."

Sirius shimmied very slightly closer, his shoulder nudging James's. He dipped his head down about an inch or so, to get a better vantage point on Snape through the admittedly small hole in the wall of their mud-and-snow bunker. Snape was wobbling a bit on his ice skates, trying to mimic the grace with which Evans had been spinning a moment earlier, but stumbled when the blade of one of his skates seemed to catch on a lump in the ice. Pausing, he looked hesitantly over at Evans. She merely laughed and gestured for him to try again. Her body language was soft and encouraging, alive with happiness. In a flash James realized what was happening: She was teaching Severus Snape how to ice skate.

James felt his lip curl. "Cannons in the port hole…"

"Firing on your mark." Sirius was grinning.

"Three…two…one…FIRE!"

And a split second later, a pair of viciously wet, cold, and decidedly gigantic snowballs went flying skyward. James watched with a warm sense of admiration as they rose into the blue and practically eclipsed the sun before landing precisely on their target with two very loud and wet thuds - one straight on the back of Snape's head, knocking him forward, and the other bang-on to the belt of his oversized tweed trousers, eliciting one of the most satisfying screeches James had ever heard. Snape thrashing face-down on the ice, shrieking like a banshee, half his head obscured by smashed snow and his entire backside splattered with it.

Beside him, Sirius began laughing. "Oh, shit. Oh, boy. Look what we've done."

James refocused and witnessed the greatest thing ever.

"I'm stuck!" Snape yelled, flopping about and apparently gasping like a fish out of water. His whole left leg was submerged in water - which for a second James found roaringly funny - but then, with a little thrill of panic, he realized that the ice had not only cracked, but that the crack was getting bigger and was threatening to swallow Snape whole.

Without thinking, James pointed his wand again. Reparo.

With a loud creak, the cracks in the ice sealed, and now only Snape's foot was submerged. Startled and shivering violently, Snape wrenched his foot free and stumbled to his feet.

Wiping his eyes, Sirius calmed down enough to speak. "Why'd you do that?"

James paused for a a split second. He was reasonably sure he'd done it because for whatever reason, Evans liked that stupid scumbag, so he probably shouldn't just up and let him die in a freezing lake, tempting as that was. Harassing Snape was one thing; killing him was another. To tell the truth, or not to tell the truth?

"I can think of better ways to murder the git," James said easily.

Sirius sniggered. James sniggered, too.

And then the wrath of a woman scorned rained down on them.

"POTTER!" Evans shrieked, her eyes clearly trained in their direction. "I know it was you! Confringo!"

James and Sirius both covered their heads as their fortress erupted, sending chunks of ice and plumes of fluffy white snow flying high, into the tops of the trees, even - and then, bloody fucking hell, she did it again. James wasn't going to stick around to find out if she'd blast them a third time (although really - what was she going to do, make them explode?), so he scrambled to his feet and began running towards the castle, laughing his head off, stumbling and tripping and kicking up snow, with Sirius mere feet behind him.

"Evans and Snape, sitting in a tree!" James yelled, cackling. "K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"

"I SWEAR ON MY LIFE THAT I WILL END YOU, POTTER!"

"Ah-ah! Can't run after me in those ice skates, can you? Well, catch me! Catch me if you can!"

Standing at the edge of the lake, Evans gave a roar of frustration - an adorable little roar, James thought, and certainly not a very intimidating one - and tried to hurl a snowball back at him, but the unfortunate thing just fell apart mid-flight and buried itself in a snowbank not far in front of where Evans stood, grinding the blades of her skates into the ice. James thought maybe he should make amends. He stopped running and turned to face her, gesturing for Sirius to pause.

"GO OUT WITH ME, EVANS?" James shouted. This sent Sirius into peals of laughter. James puffed out his chest and gave Evans his best smile, although he was reasonably sure she couldn't see it from where she was standing.

There was a beat of silence as Evans seemed to reel a bit in shock. Breathing hard, James grinned at Sirius, who was looking duly impressed. James looked back down the hill at the lake. Evans was speaking to Snape now, making some sort of disgusted gesture; Snape, for his part, was still dripping with melted snow and appeared to be busying himself with Drying and Warming charms. It was hard to see exactly what Evans was doing, but something about the way she was gesticulating at Snape seemed…off.

"Hey, mate, I think she's angry or something," Sirius said. James's grin faded.

"POTTER," Evans shouted, and James had an uncomfortable feeling that her fists might be balled up inside her mittens - but she was a girl, wasn't she, so should he really be worried about whether or not her fists were balled up? - "GET YOUR STUPID ARSE DOWN HERE TOMORROW AT ELEVEN A.M. SHARP. YOU. ME. TO THE DEATH!"

James blinked. Sirius blinked.

"What did she just say?" Sirius asked.

"OH, SO YOU THINK I'M NOT SERIOUS, DO YOU?" Evans yelled. "YOU HEARD ME! TOMORROW. HERE. DON'T BE LATE OR I'LL WIPE THE WHOLE CHARMS CORRIDOR WITH YOUR STUPID FACE!"

"Isn't this something only blokes do?" Sirius whispered.

"Shut up, Sirius, she's not a bloke - "

"WHAT, POTTER, ARE YOU CHICKEN? CHICKEN CHICKEN CHICKEN!"

Awed, James stared down at Evans, who was now prancing about on the ice and flapping her arms like an actual chicken. Now she was laughing. "BU-CAWWKK! WHAT'S WRONG, YOU SCARED TO FIGHT A GIRL, POTTER? BU-CAWWKK!"

Another, lower sound crept up the hill now, a sniggering, shivering sound. Snape was laughing at him. James's mouth fell open in horror.

"I think you have to take the challenge, mate," Sirius said gravely. "That's the only way around this. You have to beat her and win."

"I can't beat up a girl, Sirius," James said, aghast. "That's - that's just wrong! I mean, she can't even throw a snowball up a hill!"

"CHICKEN! WHAT'RE YOU DOING UP THERE, CHICKEN? LAYING AN EGG?"

"You can't stand for this," Sirius said. "You've got to face her like a man."

James's stomach sank horribly. He didn't want to fight Lily Evans. Why would he want to fight Lily Evans? That was the worst idea anyone in the world had ever had. Couldn't he just walk away? Wasn't that what real men who didn't want to crush a lesser opponent did?

But then Snape let out a particularly audible snort, and James saw red. He cupped his hands around his mouth.

"FINE!" he shouted back. "YOU GOT IT, EVANS. TOMORROW, ELEVEN A.M. AT THE LAKE. BETTER BRING YOUR WAND, YOU MIGHT NEED IT!"

He dropped his hands, letting them slap limply against his sides. Evans made some indecipherable gesture in his direction, and then - the nerve of her - she grabbed Snape's arm and skated back into the center of the lake, Snape wobbling along behind her.

Sirius whistled. "Looks like we've got work to do tonight, mate."

James groaned.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

James did not get the reaction he had been hoping for when he and Sirius had burst into the second ear boys' dormitory, soaking wet and clearly in a state of emergency. Remus and Peter did not seem to comprehend the gravity of their situation, so James explained. Snape had been prancing about on the lake to the tune of the bloody Nutcracker and dipping Lily Evans like some perverted male ballerina on ice skates (and by the way, he could not skate for shit, which added insult to injury). Evans had very obviously been in distress. James and Sirius had been the only ones around, so it had been their moral duty to rescue Evans. There had been no solution other than launching snow missiles straight at Snape's head and pants to humiliate him as much as possible, and to give Evans time to escape.

After James finished (thoroughly backed up by Sirius; thank Merlin for Sirius, really), Remus merely peered curiously at them over his copy of Animagi: Bugs, Birds, and Espionage. "You're kidding, right?" He was curled up in his four-poster, still ashen-faced from the last full moon; Peter was sitting on the floor with his back against the side of Remus's trunk, repeatedly bouncing a ball into a pile of what looked like something James had heard Evans refer to as jacks, or something like that. James cleared his throat and glared at his friend.

"As I've just told you," he said sullenly, "Evans wants to thrash me. She says I should show up at eleven A.M. tomorrow to fight her."

Remus burst out laughing and hid his face in the spine of his book. Peter looked up, confused.

"What?" James demanded. Remus only continued to laugh; Peter gave an uncertain chuckle, apparently unsure whether he should be laughing or standing up to defend James's honor.

"She blew up our snow bunker," Sirius added, as if this explained everything.

"And Snape was there!" James scowled at Sirius for having again left off the most important part. "What was I supposed to do?"

"I dunno, tell her you didn't want to beat up a girl and walk away?"

"She called me a chicken," James said, wounded. "In front of Snape."

Remus's mouth twitched. Peter, seemingly emboldened, bounced the ball back into his pile of jacks and spoke up."Well, I think he ought to stand up to Snape. Or none of us will ever hear the end of it, yeah?"

"And the man speaks!" Sirius exulted. "Pete's right, you know. The only way to get even with old Snivelly is to take him down a notch."

"But it wasn't even old Snivelly who did it," Remus replied, seeming a cross between amused and irritated. "It's Evans who challenged James to a fight to the death, right? So she's the one he should, you know, talk to."

James moaned and threw himself onto his bed, landing facedown in a pile of pillows and yanked-up blankets. "I don't know what to do. I need a drink!"

"But butterbeer doesn't have any alcohol in it," Remus said, his shoulders quivering with laughter. "I - I'm sorry. I just can't help it."

"Yeah, it's not like you've ever been drunk before, or anything," Peter chimed in. "Right, James?"

James blushed, still facedown in his pillows. He considered telling both Peter and Remus to sod off, but Sirius intervened before James could say anything.

"Shut up, Peter, this is serious business," Sirius snapped. "Now, listen. We are going to formulate a plan that'll get Snape and Evans out of our way for the rest of our Hogwarts career. And you two are going to be a part of it."

James sat up and gave Sirius a look of supreme gratitude. He loved this man. He would always love this man. Sirius slapped him on the shoulder, a crafty grin spreading across his face.

"And we're going to use James as the bait."

The love swelling in James's chest froze and clattered into his toes faster than it had risen. He sat up with a jolt. "What?"

"Nah, just kidding." Sirius's grin was the widest James had seen all day. "Or maybe not. Just give me time. You can't rush brilliance. This will be fun."

Remus rolled his eyes. "Can't we just let James have it out with Evans?"

"No. They need a musical score. They need a backdrop. Get it, Remus."

"I don't," he said dryly. "And neither does Peter."

"No, I get it," Peter cut in. "There's got to be theatrics. I mean, it's Evans's fault that it has to be like this. All she has to do is get out of our way and let us put Snape out of his misery, yeah? But she's asking for it. You can't just be friends with a weird swot like Snape and not expect to have problems."

The dormitory fell silent, and James tried to process what Peter had just said. Before he could get over his shock, though, Sirius whistled, which James suddenly found inexplicably irritating. Sirius had been whistling an infuriating amount lately, hadn't he? Once by the lake, and now -

"Wow, Pete," Sirius said, giving Peter a solemn nod. "Respect, mate. I agree one hundred percent."

More silence. A sense of unease was creeping in around James's insides. Peter did have a point; one couldn't just be friends with Severus Snape and think that was going to be all right with anyone. It just - didn't make sense. And it wasn't as if James actually deserved all the times Snape had hexed him and then had the nerve to go and badmouth him to Lily Evans. Lily Evans! She wasn't stupid, why did Snape think he could get away with that rubbish?

But then, James was not keen on any plan that involved him fighting with Lily Evans. Even if it was ultimately for the greater good - the greater good being, of course, the elimination of Severus Snape from the face of the Earth. And possibly getting Evans to stop thinking he was a chicken. There was that, too.

x.x.x.x.x.x

The next morning was hell. James hadn't slept for the entire night, of course, considering he'd been up wondering what Evans could possibly have in store for him. Had she sent owls to every girl in the castle, telling them to nip down to the lake to watch her humiliate him? Was she going to duel him? And if so, what was he supposed to do with that? The girl knew her Charms better than he did, and he couldn't bloody well turn her into a hippogriff or anything, because that would just be overkill - besides, what if he couldn't change her back and had to take her to Dumbledore? Or worse, McGonagall? - Not that James Potter ever worried about these things when he was fantasizing about hexing Snape into a dark oblivion, but really, Evans was a different case. She didn't strut around the castle acting like she was special because she had some marginal knowledge of the Dark Arts or any such crock. She was just…Evans.

She really wasn't a bully, James decided. Just fierce. The same way a hippogriff would only attack you if you bowed your head funny.

"Breakfast, mate," Sirius said, breaking James's reverie. He had been staring across the Great Hall at Evans, who was chewing her toast with what looked like cold determination to kill him. Her friend Mary MacDonald was sitting next to her, smirking unhelpfully. Evans remained steadfast.

"Breakfast," Sirius said again, this time more loudly. He shoved a plate of eggs and toast into James's hands, which, much to James's surprise, had been wringing one another above the table, right in Evans's line of sight. Catching himself, James accepted the plate and made an effort to glare at Evans rather than stare at her and let her know how anxious and nauseated he really was. Sirius cleared his throat.

"Mate. Focus."

James blinked and looked up at Sirius, who had apparently been watching him all this time. Remus and Peter were, too. Well then.

"I'm fine, guys," he said, trying to sound convincing. "You can stop looking at me like that and figure out how you're going to, you know, rescue me and all that once Evans rips my head off."

"I dunno, you might be a pretty lost cause after that," Sirius laughed. James let his forehead drop onto the table.

"Has anyone noticed that Snape isn't sitting with her this morning?" Remus asked. "I'm serious. This is the first time I haven't seen them together at breakfast since our First Year."

Suddenly feeling hopeful, James lifted his head. "Really?"

"Yeah, maybe she just didn't want her old pal getting in the way of her killing you."

"She's not going to kill you, James," Peter said, rolling his eyes. "She's probably just planning on hexing you."

"Well, if you're feeling so brave, why don't you go and face her yourself?" James snapped, and Peter recoiled. James shoved his plate away. "You guys are no help. I'm leaving."

"Wait, where're you going?" Sirius exclaimed, nearly spraying a mouthful of bacon across the table. "We just got started!"

"I'm going to the lake to learn the terrain," James said sullenly. "I'll see you guys later."

"Now that's just not fair!" Sirius yelled after him. "We've still got to formulate the backup plan!"

James figured he was probably being a tad dramatic at this point, but he stalked off anyway. A bloke had to finish what he'd started, after all.

x.x.x.x.x.x

The lake was lovely, of course. A fresh dusting of snow had fallen overnight, so that the tracks he and Sirius had left had blurred softly at the edges. In a move that was quite unlike himself (and one he would never repeat, he thought), James stepped back into the old tracks and picked his way down the hillside, careful not to disturb the new snowfall. After all, this could be the last day of his life - another thing he knew to be (likely) untrue, but he couldn't help being a bit pensive and sentimental nonetheless. In less than an hour he would have to face Evans in person and figure out how to beat her at her own game without actually hurting her. Or just, you know, not hurt her, period. He hadn't the faintest idea what she might try, but if he was honest with himself, he couldn't be sure he cared about winning.

James looked up into the sky. It was a brilliant, cloudless blue.

Splat.

James lurched. Something horribly cold and wet had smacked into the side of his head and was now dribbling down his neck, leaking between the folds of his scarf. Actually, several dark shadows had suddenly materialized in his field of view as well, and after a second James realized that the snowball had also smashed over the right lens of his glasses. Which would explain how there was ice dripping down his nose on top of everything else. Blinking, James wiped a load of wet snow out of his eyes and brushed off his shoulders.

It was Evans. Go figure.

"You figured out how to throw a snowball," he blurted.

"You're early." Evans was scowling at him. Apparently she had had the same idea that he'd had?

"Come to learn the terrain, too?" James asked, much more stupidly than he'd intended. Evans made a face; immediately James felt a hot blush rise up his neck, which made the snow feel that much colder. He gave an involuntary shiver. Fucking Merlin.

"Well?" James pressed. "What're you doing here? It's not even half-past. Can't a bloke have some peace in the last minutes of his life?"

Evans continued to stare at him as if he were the ugliest, most ungainly oaf she had ever encountered, and James felt a piece of himself die. She could look at him like that when he was pegging Snape with spitballs or jinxes, that was fair. But alone and completely taken by surprise? No. He'd done nothing to deserve this.

"Aren't you going to at least tell me the rules of your stupid fight?" he demanded. He was beginning to get angry.

Evans blinked, and there followed the most horrific beat of silence James had ever lived through. Then she began laughing. Really, really laughing, as if the laughter came from the pit of her stomach and simply bubbled up, that clear, endearing sound that lit up her whole face and made her blush with mischief. James loved that sound; always had - except this time she wasn't laughing with him, she was laughing at him. He chewed his lip, paralyzed. He didn't know what to think anymore.

"Fight?" Evans giggled. "My fight? Oh my - sorry." She hiccuped and took a deep breath, trying to suppress more laughter. "You actually fell for it? As in, you thought I was challenging you to a real fistfight?"

Warm relief rushed through him. Of course it had been a joke. Of course. This was Evans, right. No wonder Remus and Peter hadn't been taking him seriously; they'd guessed all along that she was bluffing. He had to get to Sirius, tell him not to come storming down here with hexes flying -

" - I mean, really, Potter, that's hilarious. Oh wow. You really are a stupid git."

"I take offense to that," James said weakly.

"See, I have something better in mind for you," Evans went on, her laughter fading now. "I knew I couldn't pick a fight with you. But you're such a git that you wouldn't listen to anything else. So." She reached into her rucksack, eyes narrowed, her face completely serious. James shifted nervously as she dug around beneath her schoolbooks, dropping ink bottles, quills, and various library volumes into the snow.

At last she produced a pair of ice skates and thrust them into James's hands.

James stared at her. Evans pulled out her wand and pointed it at the skates, then at his feet, and then at the skates again.

"You want me to put these on," James said disbelievingly.

Evans glared at him. "Your stupid snow fortress isn't the only thing I can blow up."

"All right, all right," James said hastily. "Good grief. Fine. Fine, I'll put your sodding skates on. Just, would you mind telling me - "

"Shut up," Evans snapped. James looked up and found himself staring down the end of her wand. He gave a resigned sigh and flopped into the snow, letting the miserable wetness of it seep through his clothes, and began removing his shoes.

"These had better not be Snape's," he said through gritted teeth. "I swear, Evans, if you are forcing me to wear Severus Snape's vile, repulsive ice skates, the gloves come off."

Evans smirked. "I wouldn't desecrate his skates like that. They're probably some of the only personal things he has that mean anything to him. But I guess you wouldn't know anything about that, would you, being such a pampered rich boy and all."

James rolled his eyes and tried his best to look unaffected; this again, really? - but he couldn't help wincing. Not that Evans hadn't ever commented on how he must think he was special because his parents were rich (which they were, and James didn't see any problem with that); it was just that this was the first time she had really used that to hurt him.

"See, Potter, after yesterday, I thought you could do with a lesson in something we call empathy," Evans said coldly, as James struggled to shove his feet into the skates. She was in the middle of doing up her own, although somehow she'd managed to come up with a spell that expedited the process rather noticeably. "So I'm going to give you a little ice skating lesson."

"Honestly, that doesn't sound half bad - "

"If you know what's good for you, you'll keep your mouth shut," Evans shot back. "Up!"

Amused and admittedly a bit apprehensive, James finished tying his laces and got shakily to his feet, immediately feeling the blades of his skates sink deep into the snow. "So I take it you expect me to slog all dogged-like to the edge of the lake."

Something flickered in Evans's eyes, but a second later it was gone, and all James got was a resolute "Yes."

James decided to make the best of the situation. This could have the potential to be pleasant, if he played it right.

"So where are your friends?" he asked nonchalantly, shoving his hands into his pockets and doing his best to keep them there as he trudged, off-balance and like the most uncoordinated idiot that ever lived, toward the frozen water that lay some twenty feet in front of him. "Figure they should be here by now, ready to watch you humiliate me."

"Don't make me regret deciding to be nice to you," Evans said through clenched teeth.

"Oh, so they're not coming?"

"You looked pathetic enough this morning. I didn't think I'd need to invite them."

"How sweet."

"Don't push it, Potter."

"All right, all right." Shivering now, James pushed his way through the frozen reeds lining the edge of the lake and stepped out onto the ice. Immediately he felt his foot slipping and threw out his arms to catch his balance. Evans, of course, stepped onto the ice beside him and simply pushed off (of what?) and went gliding gracefully out in front of him; then, with what seemed to be no more than a tiny twitch of her hips, she turned one hundred and eighty degrees, gliding backwards now, facing him head-on. James nearly slipped again just watching her.

"Well? What are you waiting for?"

"I don't exactly know how to ice skate, Evans," James yelled.

"So figure it out. Aren't you supposed to be some kind of athlete? You show off on that stupid broomstick often enough."

James gritted his teeth and tried to move. His feet flew out from under him and he went crashing painfully onto the ice.

"If at first you don't succeed," Evans called, sounding amused, "try, try again!"

James rolled his eyes and climbed gingerly to his feet. Wobbling, he stared down at the weird metal blades attached to them.

This is just a physics problem, he thought. You can do this. This can't be all that different from flying.

James attempted to move again. He managed to skate forward about three feet before he fell on his arse again. This second fall was particularly painful; if he hadn't broken his hand landing on top of it, he'd definitely bruised it. And badly.

"You know, this really isn't funny, Evans," James said, struggling to avoid impaling himself on an errant blade as he tried to stand up. "So, what's the lesson? I'm supposed to feel bad for Snape now that I'm in his shoes, or some hackneyed bull like that?"

There was a pause. Then, in a slightly strangled voice: "You know the word 'hackneyed'?"

"No, Evans, I don't! I don't know anything! I'm stupid James Potter, remember?"

"I didn't know you had a vocabulary," Evans replied. But she was shifting uncomfortably now, and James knew she was beginning to regret making such a fool of him. Oddly enough, though, he didn't take any pleasure in that. He just wanted this game - or whatever it was - to be over with, more than anything else. He thought he might try to give her a hug sometime. Maybe today, if she showed signs of feeling bad enough and, well, not hating him with all of her being.

That was when a shout went up somewhere near the castle. "OY, JAMES!"

It was Sirius. Still on all fours and trying not to fall flat on his face, James laughed.

"I'm okay," he yelled back. "I'm fine, just a mite clumsy, I don't think I need any reinforcements - "

Creak.

"AHHH FUCK NEVER MIND!" James shrieked as freezing water rushed in around his whole left leg. "Ow, ow, fuck, never mind, okay Sirius, now would be a great time - "

"Reparo," Evans said, skating in front of him. The cracks in the ice healed themselves, and James yanked his leg out of the water, shivering violently. With half his body numb, he tried again to clamber to his feet. He slipped again.

"Everything all right?" Sirius shouted. "I've got Remus and Peter here, we can just levitate you back up to the castle! You in?"

James gazed up the hill, at the figures of his three friends standing on the castle steps, at the towers and spires of the school. He opened his mouth to reply, but something stopped him. His mind seemed not to be working; perhaps it was the fact that he was soaking wet and probably about ten minutes from freezing to death. He drew his legs up to his body and simply sat on his arse, right there on the ice at Evans's bladed feet.

"I saw that, too, you know," Evans said, her voice oddly strangled. "Your stupid repairing spell. I caught that."

James coughed. "Well, good job then."

"Why do you like tormenting me and Sev so much?"

James hugged his knees. His teeth had begun chattering. "I don't know," he said honestly. "I think because it pisses me off to see you going around with him like you do."

Evans's eyes narrowed. "That's none of your business."

James was silent.

"You've got no right to tell me who my friends can be," Evans went on. "That's what I can't stand about you, Potter. You're arrogant and nosy and you can't even get it through your skull that maybe Sev is a person. And that I'm a person."

"On the contrary. It's very clear to me that Snape is a git, and that you are a person."

"OY! JAMES! DO YOU WANT US TO INTERVENE OR NOT?!"

"I'M FINE, THANKS!" James shouted. Clasping his arms to his chest, he scowled up at Evans again. "Look, you said you saw my repairing spell, that should've told you everything you needed to know. I despise Snape, and you're - you're just too sodding pretty for him." At this Evans's eyes widened in surprise, then softened a bit. James continued to glare at her. "It's obvious he fancies you and you're just too naive to see it. And I can't stand it. Especially not when he curses me clear into the hospital wing every chance he gets. So whatever, Evans," James finished, climbing slowly to his feet. "I think I'm just going to leave now."

The look on her face was a mix between disgust and plain shock. "Are you seriously doing all this because you fancy me?"

By some miracle James managed to stand up. Careful not to make any sudden movements, he brushed himself off and considered what she had said. Did he, in fact, fancy Lily Evans? As in, did he want to actually go out with her, as opposed to merely asking her out as a way to get her attention or derail any conversation she might happen to be having with Snape?

He thought about her hair. She did have lovely hair. He was guilty of teasing her mercilessly over it, that was true, but it was all in good fun. He'd always figured it would be nice to touch and had thought about pulling it - gently, of course - just to get a rise out of her, once or twice, but he'd never done it because he just didn't think it was right to physically harass a girl like that. Girls weren't like blokes; you couldn't just punch them or invade their space when you wanted to let them know you liked them, so in truth James had never thought all that hard about Evans's hair. But now the subject was upon him and he forced himself to think about it, focusing on what it might feel like to run his fingers through her hair. Like he would if she were his girlfriend.

Girlfriend. Something in him stirred at the thought. Of course, she was still standing in front of him, arms folded staunchly across her chest and glaring at him as though she'd bloody practiced in the mirror. James raked a nervous hand through his hair.

He thought about kissing her. He had always thought she had pretty lips. He imagined they'd be soft and warm. He closed his eyes for a moment, to help himself concentrate. Imagined her lips on his. His hand at the back of her neck.

"Potter?"

Dazed, James opened his eyes. Yes. Now that he thought about it, he was dead sure he fancied Lily Evans.

"Are you dead or something?" she asked, an odd expression on her face.

James blinked. "Am I dead?"

"…I guess not." Evans bit her lip, and James almost told her to stop because biting would just make her lips bleed, and he didn't want that. He swallowed.

"To answer your question, yes, I've just thought about it and I'm pretty sure I fancy you," he said, tilting his head. He wasn't entirely sure what to do next. "Are you going to hex me now?"

Evans gaped at him.

"That's not exactly one of the, erm, other responses I was hoping for, either," James stammered. "I think I'm going to go now."

"No, no. Wait. Potter."

James froze. "What?"

Evans looked positively panicked. She was wringing her hands through her mittens, the tips of them twisting so badly that James wondered if she was just going to pull them clean off. "You know, that was, um, brave of you. So now I feel like a gigantic twat. And just - just because, I think I should make it clear to you, since you're such a sodding, stupid git, that there's - there's a chance I could fancy you too. Someday. But only," she said fiercely, "if you stop tormenting Sev and acting like such a bloody imbecile. Without that there's no chance. Ever."

But James had hardly heard her. Something warm and wonderful was swelling up in his chest, plastering an utterly dopey grin across his face. The whole the universe made sense now; I once was blind, but now I see - everything was bright and vivid and beautiful. He was freezing his arse off, dripping from head to toe, bruised up and down both sides of his body, and on the bloody verge of passing out from hypothermia, but none of it mattered. Because now he understood. He fancied Lily Evans, and there was a chance that someday,maybe even in his lifetime, she might fancy him back.

"Want to have some butterbeer with me?" James asked, grinning like a fool.

Evans's eyes went wide. "Um. No."

"JAMES!" Sirius yelled, from somewhere up on high. "FOR THE LAST TIME, MATE, GET YOUR ARSE UP HERE!"

James cast one last euphoric smile in Evans's direction before turning to leave. The force of pivoting sent him crashing face first into the reeds and snow at the shore of the lake, but James didn't care. He rolled over and gazed into that perfect blue sky, the one that seemed full to the brim with his own happiness. For a good long moment - he didn't know how long, for that was immaterial - he lay there and simply basked in it. Because now everything was clear: He was in love with Lily Evans. He knew what needed to be done.

And the rest is history.

- Fin -