It was a truth universally acknowledged that Lily Evans hated parties. Maybe it was because of her naturally introverted personality, maybe it was because she hated having to get all tarted up, or maybe it was simply because she couldn't justify spending inordinate amounts of her hard earned money on grog and nibbles.

"Lily, where are you going?"

She turns as she pushes off the tenth sweaty dancing bloke away from her and shakes her head at how completely pissed Mary is. She has another bottle of beer in her hand, and her gait is so unsteady that Lily worries she might actually topple over. A part of her feels sorry for her best friend, but another part thinks she deserves it.

"I'm just going to go outside for a minute, get a bit of fresh air. It's a little hot in here," she yells, though even she can't hear her own voice above the booming bass notes of Skrillex playing on the Mary's rented subwoofer.

Mary doesn't even pay attention as she nods and lets herself be led away by another mutual friend of theirs as Mr Brightside begins blaring out into their teeny tiny flat. Frankly, as much as Lily hated parties, she could appreciate the fact that Mary managed to fit at least a hundred people in their shoebox apartment.

The drink in her hand sloshes dangerously around in the styrofoam cup, teetering close to the edges of it. A few little splashes of her cheap bagged red wine stains the hem of her red dress, but she has no time to properly mourn her newly bought dress as she shoves another bloke out of her way and quickly opens the door to the terrace.

The cool night air is an immediate welcome relief and Lily sighs as she squeezes through the tiny gap and shuts the door behind her with a satisfying click. She can still hear the raucous partying inside, but at least the smells of sweat and alcohol have fled from her senses.

She places her cup of bagged wine on the floor and watches the footpath as a couple walks past with their dog. She's always wanted a dog actually, but her sister had hated them and now her flat was too small to house a dog. It would probably be animal cruelty to let a dog live in such a pathetic excuse of a flat with her.

"Oi!"

Lily frowns as she turns to look back into her flat, everyone inside is oblivious as to her whereabouts on the terrace, and she shakes her head as she witnesses Marlene kissing a bloke that looked remarkably like Sirius.

"OI! Is anybody up there?"

The voice spoke out again and Lily turned around, placed her hands on the railing of the terrace and peeked out over the edge. She couldn't see anyone, though she could definitely hear frantic knocking at the ground floor entrance. Probably a poor old sod who was late.

"Yeah, I'm here!" she yells back, though she doesn't know why yelling is necessary. The street is dead quiet.

The knocking stops downstairs and the first thing she glimpses is a swish of white. She watches as the person walks into view, and scoffs once she sees him in full. God help her, but why the bloody hell was the pope in Chelsea? A thought she voiced out loud to the bloke downstairs.

"Can't the pope have a bit of fun?" the guy jokes. She couldn't quite see his face and could only really make out the white cloak he had and the papal hat on his head. "I'm here for Mary's birthday!"

"You're late," she says to him. "Like really late. Party started hours ago!"

The papal hat nods up and down and Lily giggles, she still doesn't understand why he would dress up as the pope. It was Halloween and Mary had asked everyone to dress up for the party. She'd seen one Frankenstein, two Khaleesi's, but this was the only pope she'd seen tonight.

"I know! Would hate to bore you with the details but long story short, my mate Sirius gave me the wrong time."

"You know Sirius?" Lily frowns; she had thought she'd met most of Sirius' friends.

"Yeah, look can you let me up? I need to take a piss!"

"Door's open, we're on the first floor!"

He thanks her before he disappears under the portico, the door opening and shutting. She doesn't expect him to come and join her really, but it's not long before the terrace door opens a smidge and the bloke in white papal gear joins her.

His hat is long gone and she knows that he's saying something to her, but all she can think of is: Christ, he's fit.

Her heart thumps erratically in her chest as little beads of sweat form on the palms of her hands, fit is an understatement, he's beautiful. There's no other word for it. She didn't even know men could be beautiful.

His olive skin glows from the light of the streetlamps as he nervously runs his fingers through the jet black mess of hair atop his head. He looks absolutely ridiculous in the papal gown, but she rather likes the way the white makes his own dark features seem more beautiful. He's so not her type, she usually prefers sickly, pallid blokes, like her ex-boyfriend Severus. But this man is absolutely nothing like him.

But it's his eyes that are the winning feature on his face. She's never really cared much for brownish eyes, but she quickly changes her mind as she stares at the medley of greens, golds and rich browns in his eyes.

"You alright?" He waves his hand in front of her face and she smiles sheepishly as her cheeks heat up.

"Sorry, I was just thinking."

"So, what's the devil doing in Chelsea?" he asks as he leans back against the railing.

She chokes on her drink as she takes a sip of it. "Sorry, what?"

He waves his hand at her, and finally the lightbulb clicks. She'd dressed up as the devil for the party. Horns and tail included. The irony wasn't lost on her, she was dressed as the devil, and he as the pope.

"I think the more important question here is what the Pope is doing in Chelsea."

He laughs at that, god, even his laugh is attractive. How was a laugh even supposed to be attractive?

"Needed a break from the Vatican, can't stand the stuffy old toffs there."

She nods, the absurd turn this conversation is taking them doesn't phase her in the least. "Even the Pope needs a bit of a holiday, right?"

"Oh yeah, it's bloody hard writing sermons and being a paragon of sinless living, you know? Sometimes you just need to take a bit of a load off."

They laugh at that and not for the first time does the ka-thump ka-thump of her heart ring loudly in her ears. They talk about other Pope related things for a little while. He invites her to dance, but she declines saying she hates being packed into a tiny space like a tinned sardine. It's almost midnight when he asks if she wants to leave the party and buy a kebab, she's glad he is the one to ask, though she had been trying to think of a way to leave anyway.

They jostle through the crowd, and though Lily still hates being packed like a sardine, she doesn't quite mind because her hand is in his. She could get used to that feeling, and she rather liked it too. Even if his hands were a bit clammy.

"Where are you taking me?" she asks as they close the door to the building, the faint sounds of Don't Stop Me Now echoing from her flat upstairs. Honestly, she doesn't care where they go, as long as it's not another party.

He stops walking in front of her, a frown on his face. "You're cold."

She is, but she won't tell him that. She expects him to drop the subject, but instead he shrugs off his papal white cloak and hands it to her. She was half expecting him to have another cloak on underneath, but was relieved to find that Papal cloaks weren't the only things he wore.

"Thanks! But you haven't answered my question. Where are you taking me?"

He laughs and runs his hands through his hair again, must be a nervous habit of his, she thinks.

"I'm about to change your life," he half-whispers and winks.

"Then by all means, lead the way!" Lily says as he takes her hand again and leads her to wherever he's taking her.

It's about half an hour later that they're sitting inside a tiny little Indian restaurant just off the Kings' Road with plates of naan and lamb korma between them. Her foul mood about the party that Mary was throwing is completely gone.

As she dips a bit of naan into a bowl of mango chutney, she muses that parties aren't all that bad if you get to go out on an impromptu date with the Pope.

Author's Note

Word Count: 1537

Word Count (with A/N): 1587

Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition

Game/Round: 3

Team/Position: Montrose Magpies, Seeker

Task/Prompt: Write about someone being immediately attracted to someone else.

Lyric: Where are you taking me? / I'm about to change your life / Then by all means, lead the way