He was staring at me again. I could feel his eyes boring into my back. I cursed Professor McGonagall for placing me right in front of the very idiot whose name I despised.

"James Potter," McGonagall's voice said loudly, lifting her eyes from the attendance scroll to scan the room for the prankster.

"Here," I heard James' matured male voice from behind me. I could almost see the arrogant grin on his face and had to resist the overwhelming temptation of punching it off permanently. The newly-appointed Headboy lowered his voice. "We're back once again, Evans,"

"Fascinating," I said simply, knowing that my mouth might have spouted out a few good oaths at him if I had kept my mouth open any longer.

A sigh exited his mouth and traveled down my neck, sending a tail of goose bumps down with it. "Well, fine," James said, and I hoped to goodness he was done talking for the day. But of course, James Potter is never done talking. "I you won't say anything, I'll take your silence as a yes."

I could keep my mouth shut no longer than one second. "A yes to what?" I asked suspiciously.

He chuckled. "Now there's the Evans I know."

"Hurry it up, Potter," I snarled under my breath so only he could hear it. I was still facing forward.

"A yes to a date," was James' simple yet ridiculously aggravating answer.

I stiffened immediately. I knew that was coming. Why couldn't he just accept that I don't want a date with him? Not now...not ever! "Sod off, Potter," I turned around to glare at him but was met with an amused smirk that cut off my reply. "What?" I hissed venomously.

"Well..." he whispered slowly, "If you really want to know..."

I stopped my curiosity from getting the better of me and before I regretted anything. "Oh second thought," I said, "I don't want to."

"Are you sure? He asked, as I turned around once again to face Professor McGonagall so I could at least try to ignore him.

I didn't answer, so he continued, and as hard as I tried, I couldn't block out the words that were soon pouring out his mouth. "Well," he started coolly, "I was just wondering what our kid will look like."

"Will?" The word had escaped before I could stop it. "There is no will. Just keep dreaming, Potter."

"Of course there's a will!" James replied, chuckling. "The world wouldn't function without Mrs. Lily Potter by my side."

"Trust me, Potter," I shot back, forgetting about Professor McGonagall's lecture and focusing on setting James straight. "The world will function just fine without me as your wife."

James wasn't listening. He was busy telling me how perfect our future kid would be. "Think of it, Evans," and I could just see his hazel eyes sparkling with excitement. "Our kid would be a prefect little Quidditch player..."

Quidditch. Out of all the respectable things to do, he wants our kid to be a Quidditch player! ...But of course...I won't have a kid with him...so it doesn't matter. Right? Meanwhile, James was still on about our child. "He'll have your eyes, and he'll look just like me...he'll be a regular heartbreaker...a ladies' man."

My frustration had been growing for the past few minutes, and I couldn't help myself. "What makes you think I'll even agree to have one with you?" I demanded.

But to no avail. James forged on, a dreamy look on his face. "We'll name him Harry...in tribute to my father, of course. And we'll give him my name as his middle name. Harry James Potter...sounds glorious."

"Right," I muttered sarcastically. "It will sound glorious...if his surname wasn't Potter!"

James voice was one of surprise. "Oh, so he's keeping your surname?" he stayed silent for a moment while I fumed. "Well...it's a little unconventional, but I can deal with it. What ever my beautiful wife says, goes."

I groaned, lowering the wand in my hand that was supposed to be transfiguring a ferret. I stood up with such force that I knocked my chair down. I ignored the Professor's shouts as I poked James with my wand menacingly. "Potter," I said coldly, fed up. "He's not going to have your last name...because I'm not marrying you!"

James smirked, completely unafraid of the piece of wood clutched in my hand. "That's what you say now, Evans..." the boy said with a sense of superiority. "But I'll have you before long. Mark my words." The tone in which he spoke told Lily that he was dead serious.