The first time Lily Evans saw James Potter with his shirt off, they were in fourth year and she had no idea what she was doing.

The, ah, fortunate occurrence happened purely on accident. It was still early enough in her career at Hogwarts that she insisted on perfecting homework and triple checking her essays for mistakes. She was in the middle of her second round on her Transfiguration essay on dung beetles and the properties on why they were harder to transfigure than regular beetles (this one, she already knew, would need a fourth check—purely to be up to McGonagall's standards) when the portrait hole was pushed open softly, and Peter Pettigrew hurried in. He was covered in sweat and dirt, and was shaking from head to foot. He nearly collapsed when he saw a figure in the chair.

"Lily!" he squeaked in alarm, backing up slowly.

"Evans?" she heard someone—another voice—groan.

It happened extremely quickly, Lily was sure she had blinked. One second, Peter was standing by himself, precariously close to the portrait hole, no other expression but fear very eminent on his face. A second later, Sirius Black was standing next to him, worse for wear than Peter in every way possible.

"Lily Evans," he sighed, raking his dirt-caked fingers through his hair. He didn't even seem to mind as it smudged against his fair skin. "Out of all the other bloody Gryffindors...of course it has to be you." A whimpering sound came from behind the boys. Lily didn't seem to notice.

"I don't care right now," she sighed right back, matching his tone with a cross of her arms. "So you can go on up to your dormitory and continue your—your shenanigans. I don't care. I'm working."

Rather pleased with herself, she pushed her shoulders back and smoothed her paper before continuing, slightly excited to finish Correction Round 2: The Focus on Content.

Had she been paying attention to the boys, she would've seen the look pass between Peter and Sirius. She would've seen the gesture towards nothing behind them. She would've seen the pained sigh escape from Sirius, the knowledge that he was going to regret whatever he had to say next.

"Evans," he croaked. Frowning, he gathered himself and pushed Peter out of the way, scowling slightly as the blithering boy stumbled and stubbed his toe. "Evans, we need your help."

Her quill slipped from her fingers in astonishment. Black neededher help? "Sorry?"

"We"—he gestured towards him and nursing-his-foot-Peter—"need your help. And I need you to swear—swear it, Evans—that you won't tell anyone."

Instantly, she became guarded. She knew enough about the marauders, as they liked to be called, and she knew they liked trouble. And they liked pranking people. She liked correcting her homework and pumpkin juice and long walks around the Quidditch pitch with her friends, Marlene and Dorcas.

Shedidn't like where this was going.

But she knew they needed help. And what kind of Gryffindor would she be if she didn't assist when they asked her?

Besides, she already knew she'd hold this over Sirius Black for a very long time, and she couldn't pass up the opportunity as it landed in her lap.

"Fine," she sighed wearily, rubbing at her eyes. Merlin, what was the time? Pushing her things into her bag and her bag onto a separate chair, she turned to the boys and—without so much as a warning—saw bloody James Potter lying unceremoniously on the ground.

Literally. He was literally bleeding.

If Black looked bad, then Potter looked absolutely wretched. His shirt was off, so Lily could see the tears in his chest and the darkening spots by his eye—as if he had been punched. His glasses were completely shattered, cradled loosely in hand.

She sucked in a breath, her bottom lip catching underneath her teeth. This was the big secret? This is what they wanted her to do? Unbelievable, the lot of them.

"I can't do this!" she cried, turning to Black. "Are you guys insane? I—I can't help. He needs to go to Pomfery—why isn't he with Pomfery?" she grabbed her essay and started whacking the two of them for their idiocy. As if they thought a fourteen year old witch-in-training could do more than a professional healer! What lunatics.

They shared a look after Lily had quit the hitting, realizing she really wanted an answer. "Uh," Peter said tentatively. "She…wouldn't let us in? Said it was too late?"

"Rubbish," Lily growled, looking the wounded boy up and down.

Black rolled his eyes. "Wormy here didn't say please and that set her off. So we came down here because he was insistent that you could do better than that old bat."

"She's, like, twenty," Lily corrected. Her nose wrinkled. "That's not even old." The three of them stood there silently for a moment, looking at James. He was breathing. That was a good sign…right? Still…he looked absolutely dreadful…Lily worried on her bottom lip as Sirius sighed dramatically.

"Ah, well, it was worth a try." Sirius leaned in towards James and tugged on his mate's arm, as if he expected Potter to get up and walk it off. He didn't. "I guess James, here, will die tragically in his sleep. And it'll be partly your fault, too, because you, Lily Evans, refused to help…Oh, dear me, what will his mother say?"

Lily yanked her wand out of her hair. "Oh, fine," she snarled, pushing the boys out of her way. Again, she missed the look the boys shared as she leaned in close to her patient. Potter, too, reeked of sweat and dirt. Figuring this was as good of a place to start as any, she did a simple cleansing charm and made him as clean as Petunia on her best day (which was always), and fixed his glasses.

"D'you have any, er, dittany?" she reached for her bag impatiently and flipped open the book to the index, double checking herself. "Yeah, the dittany. Peter, can you get some, please?"

"Where?" he asked, his small pudgy face set into a determined look. Lily suppressed her smile, tucking her hair behind her ears.

"Pomfery definitely has a stash. I dunno, Slughorn perhaps…"

"On it!" he grinned, winking at Sirius obviously before dashing out of the portrait hole.

Lily looked after him curiously before the other boy gestured for Lily to keep going. She nodded, wondering why in the world Sirius couldn't be doing this himself.

So she asked, since Lily Evans wasn't one to refrain from asking questions when she was confused. "Why aren't you doing this yourself, Black?" her fingers trembled slightly as she pointed her wand at James's eye, watching as it healed into more of a yellowish color.

She didn't look at him. He wouldn't want her looking at him.

"I'm not as smart as you," he shrugged, fidgeting with his torn collar.

"Rubbish," she called again. She tossed him a smile. "The lot of you are top in the year."

"But you're first," he pointed out. "And I wouldn't want to mess it up…" he looked at his fingers. "I mess everything up, usually."

Fourteen year old Lily didn't know how to answer that, so she just sighed. "That's not true, either, Black. Here—go get James a shirt. You can't exactly mess that up, now, can you?"

His lips flickered hopefully. Get a shirt. He could do that. Although… "He does have a lot of shirts…"

"Get the blue one, then, I don't know."

"Know all my shirts, do you Evans?" a weak laugh came from below her. Her hands, covered in his blood, froze over him. Sirius, too, stayed where he was.

"You okay, Prongs?" he demanded, his voice cracking violently. Sirius Black was desperately worried, and Lily had to admit that it was a good look on him. It made him seem more human.

"Just peachy," James said sarcastically. He met Lily's eyes. "How about you, Evans? Doing alright? What about Mrs. Norris? Have we asked her how she's doing? Where's Pete? I need to ask him about the state of his being."

"No talking," she squeaked, pointing her wand at his mouth and fixing his split lip. It shut him up quickly, and for that Lily was grateful. Sirius patted her on the back, so she figured he appreciated it, too.

Peter barged in shortly after she had started on his cuts, holding the dittany triumphantly. Lily applied it, ordering for Sirius to hold James down so he wouldn't reopen the other wounds.

And then it was over.

She collapsed onto the ground, exhausted. It was a soddy job, really. He was still bleeding slightly, but it was the best she could do given the circumstances, not to mention that she was only fourteen years old and in no way a qualified healer.

"Where's Remus?" Lily whispered after a while, noting the absence of their fourth friend.

Sirius jutted out his jaw, eyebrows pulling down. His fists clenched. "Remus is going to get a talking to, that's what."

"No," James hissed in that whisper-croak-voice. "Sirius, no. He didn't know—"

"He should've."

"No."

They shared an intense look that only brother could share. And even though they weren't related biologically, they still acted so. It made Lily yearn for that type of relationship with someone, too, since her and Petunia weren't exactly speaking anymore.

Hm. Maybe her and Sev—

"Okay, I'm tired," Peter said officially, stretching out and helping James stand. It probably wasn't the best idea, but Lily had no idea how to get somebody up the stairs except by Wingardium Leviosa, and she didn't really trust herself with it. Especially with someone she had just saved. Kind of.

"That's okay, Evans," Sirius said, patting her on the head. "You did well tonight."

"Yeah thanks, Lily," Peter added. "You're the best."

James turned to her, then, too. They were both about the same height, but for some reason, even leaning on Peter and Sirius, he seemed so much taller. And he was shirtless. The part of Lily that remained a girl couldn't help but really notice it now that he wasn't bleeding out on the common room floor. And all she could do with hold her still-bloody hands out in front of her and try not to stare.

"Thank you, Lily Evans," he grinned. He winked. "Sleep tight."

And then he allowed the other boys to lead him up the stairs.

She cleaned everything up with her wand after they left. There was dirt and mud everywhere, as well as paper towels and water bottles. She should've been upset that they had left her to all of this. She should've been mad that she had done this out of the goodness of her heart, but for some reason she wasn't—not really.

She felt warm and fuzzy as she crawled back onto the couch to continue her essay-correcting.

She wondered if maybe she could be a healer when she got older.

The second time, it was the first time Lily realized that James was actually a boy. Like, a real boy with real boy parts and wasn't just a prat that ran around in his free time hexing people for the fun of it.

She quite liked the boy side of James.

It was after Quidditch practice, and Dorcas had dragged her to the pitch to watch Marlene, because Marlene had been complaining about the lack of overall support she had been receiving when it came to her and her Quidditch endeavors. So, to the pitch they went.

Lily didn't think it was too bad. She had on one of her nice jumpers and her hair was looking nice, and there wasn't really a lot of wind so she wasn't afraid that it was going to get messed up. Dorcas offered her some lip gloss. She obliged. She didn't know why.

Practice ended and Marlene ran to the three of them with sheer delight painted on her face. "You came!" she shrieked. "You came you came you came!"

"You told us to come or you'd hex us into next Saturday," Lily reminded her gently.

Marlene made a face.

"But we love you anyway!" Dorcas ended, going in for another hug and shooting Lily a why did you say that you're so stupid look. Lily got that look a lot.

"Go change, we're planning on doing some serious Charms work when we get back to the common room. After Lily gets some ice cream. She's been moping about it for the past hour."

"It's warm out here!" she protested, giggling.

"I'm down with ice cream," Marlene agreed, nodding her head excitedly. "Yeah, just wait here. I'll be right back." She rushed off towards the locker rooms while the other girls followed her at a much slower pace, meeting up with a different girl in Gryffindor—Melanie—and talking about ice cream and charms. Oh, the life of a Hogwarts witch.

"Padfoot?" they heard someone call from the locker room as they loitered outside, waiting for Marlene. "Padfoot, this so isn't funny—oh."

"Oh," three girls squeaked in response. Because in front of them was James Potter. And he was shirtless. And he was wearing a towel.

And only a towel.

He flushed immediately. Not, Lily noticed, before seeing that the towel was secure around his waist. For once, she thanked Merlin for his common sense. "You haven't seen my clothes by chance, have you?"

Lily waited for Dorcas or Melanie to respond, but Melanie was whispering into Dorcas's ear and Dorcas was obviously listening, so James was asking her, and Lily had no idea how to respond to a boy wearing only a towel. A very good looking boy that should only wear a towel more often.

"I'd offer you my jumper, but I'm not wearing anything under it, so I'd be as naked as you are if I were to give it up."

She clapped her hands to her mouth. Why did she say that? Damn it all! He was making her flustered. He knew he was making her flustered. His lips were pulling back into a smile, and he was definitely looking at her with a twinkle in his eye, now. Merlin, Lily, why'd you have to open your big dumb mouth.

"I'd love to see that," he grinned lazily, suddenly confident in his towel predicament.

Lily flushed.

"I mean, I'm wearing a bra," she blurted to clarify. "I'm not—I mean, I guess I am wearing something underneath, so it's not like I'd be as naked as you. I'd be less naked. Because of the bra." Generally, she gestured to her chest region as if reminding him that she wouldn't be naked.

James threw his head back and let out a short burst of laughter, as if she had surprised it out of him. "Relax, Evans. Breathe. Count to ten, if you need. I'll be here."

"That's what I'm afraid of," she grumbled.

"Hey!" he protested, stepping closer. Merlin, she thought desperately. No no no, Potter. Get away. Abort. ABORT. "I'll have you know that my advice tips don't usually come for free. This is a kind gesture. Plus, I'm standing here without my trousers. Or my shirt. So this should be like Christmas for you, really."

"I prefer the crackers."

"Sure."

They looked at each other carefully, not really sure where to look. Lily couldn't exactly look anywhere besides his face for obvious reasons (the obvious reason being that James was shirtless and everything else-less besides the towel), and Lily was sure James was looking at her like that because if he started looking at her jumper, then it'd basically be putting a neon sign above his head, saying, I AM THINKING ABOUT LILY EVANS AND HER BOOBS. All because of Lily's wonderful outburst. Lovely.

"So this is awkward," he said finally.

"Extremely," Lily agreed, nodding vigorously. Her cheeks were still pink. She really needed to do something about his towel. Some first year could wander by, oh the horror! "Have you got your wand, then?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, let me just whip it out from underneath this towel."

"Well I don't know!"

"No, Evans, I haven't got my wand." He was spelling it out for her as if she was stupid. Lily Evans didn't like people thinking she was stupid, so she pursed her lips instead of laughing at his sheer wit and intellect.

She grumbled, "Lucky for you, I've got mine." Producing her wand from her pocket, she held it out, ready to cast her spell that would get stupid shirtless Potter out of her bleeding mind. She was afraid—terrified, really—that the image would be ingrained in her memory forever. She tried focusing on Potter and his wardrobe, but it came up short. What do boys wear again? Chicken suits?

"Er, Accio Potter's clothes!"

They waited patiently for a moment before deciding that, no, Lily's spell hadn't worked.

"Come on, Evans, don't you have an outfit of mine that you particularly fancy?" he was grinning at her, now, in that teasing tone, hand in his hair. She tried to ignore how it sends her chills up and down her spine. She blamed it on the weather.

"Accio James Potter's blue shirt!"

A second later, James was holding a blue shirt in his hands. He looked at Lily and smiled widely, thinking of that night in fourth year when Lily had—sort of—saved his life. "I think this is your favorite shirt of mine, Evans."

She shoved his shoulder and tried to hide her grin.

The third time Lily had seen James shirtless, they had been dating for longer than anyone thought and had been happier than anyone could imagine.
They were kneeling in front of each other, and a sort of silence had come over the two of them as they stared at each other—an unspoken commitment that this was real and that this—this—could last longer than some winded crush from fourth year. Wordlessly, he tugged off his shirt.

Lily took a sharp intake of breath, her bottom lip catching under her teeth as she watched him self-consciously shove his hand in his hair and adjust his glasses. He was shirtless, and he was looking at her carefully from underneath those luminous hazel eyes, waiting patiently for her reaction. He looked scared, that the small redheaded girl could have so much power over him in this state.

Vulnerable.

The word hit Lily like a sack of potatoes and nearly caused her to tumble. James Potter was vulnerable, and he had never ever looked better.

Quidditch had made his forearms strong and his stomach was flat and his shoulders were broad, all the way to his slim fingers, intertwining with hers. He was skinnier, still, yes, but Lily didn't linger on that measly detail. He was in front of her and she was in front of him and he was still looking at her, waiting for her response, and she could only smile at how perfect this all was.

It wasn't the first time she had said it, but she said it anyway. She ran her fingers over her stomach, up to his shoulders, her fingers shaking.

"I love you, James Potter." Her voice was low and steady, and she had never been surer of herself before. But, more than that, Lily was surprised at how relieved he looked. As if he thought that his uneasiness over his physical state could make her go away forever. She smiled wider as he kissed her gently, and then deepened it, and then her stomach swirled and Lily knew that this was it—this was it.

He made her feel confident. He made her feel crazy and lovely and smart and important—but most of all; he made her feel like Lily. So she took her shirt off a little hesitantly, because he was James—he was her James and he had opened up to her, so she wanted to open up to him. He looked like he might faint, and then Lily asked if he was okay, even though she felt sort of sick and she didn't want to know his answer. But then he said yes, he was just overcome with how gorgeous his girlfriend was—how lucky he was to have her. (She smacked him for his cheesiness, but was secretly pleased.)

And then they kissed. And he told her he loved her, too. And when Lily felt sleepy, she rummaged around on the ground for her shirt, and ended up wearing his blue shirt that she had always, always liked.

"You look good in that shirt, Evans," he grinned against her lips. She felt happiness in her chest all the way to her stomach, and she hooked her arms around his neck and ran her fingers through his oh-so-silky-smooth hair.

"Not as good as you do," she said.

James—if possible—brightened even more. He flopped down beside her and started playing with her hair. "Oh, so you're admitting that you had been paying attention to me since fourth year?"

She rolled her eyes, elbowing him gently. "I notice things, James. That doesn't make me the one pulling out the bandwagon for your fan club or whatever."

"No," he agreed. "That's Sirius."

She kissed his forehead and snuggled into his side. "This shirt is comfy. I don't know why you don't wear it more often."

"You should wear it more often," he countered. "Seriously, Evans"—he yawned, slipping his glasses off of his nose and placing them on the table next to his bed—"it looks great on you." He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. And they slept.

The third time Lily saw James shirtless was not the last. But, lying next to him, with her head on his chest, she couldn't help but feel very lucky when she was with him. She loved him because of his imperfections and quirks and his habits and obsessions and the fact that she could dangle one measly little fact from fourth year over his head forever (she had saved his life, it was to be expected). She loved him. It was as simple as that. With the shirt, and without.

A/N: PLEASE Review! I promise to love you forever!