A/N: I unfortunately found out from my father (a left-hander) that even when you're left-handed, you shake hands with your right hand, after I finished this. Humor Lily and me and go along with her logic. This is a sequel/companion to Left Handed. I would suggest you read it first, but you won't be too confused if you don't.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that you recognize.

oOoOo

Most things came easily to James Potter. Quidditch, schoolwork, pranking—he could do it all without a second thought. If you asked Lily, she would say that he took everything for granted. His ability to make girls swoon, to pull pranks on anyone and everyone in the school, and to make Lily Evans miserable.

He was right-handed, of course.

Lily bet that he would have never had trouble with spiral notebooks, if he had known what they were. He would've happily doodled in them, never complaining about the metal spirals that, like James, made it their lives' mission to torture Lily. James had probably even hired the spirals to conspire against Lily, even before she knew that she was a witch and James knew that she existed. Even though Lily was relatively sane, she still thought that somehow James Potter could do things that no one else could do to make her life as difficult as possible.

The insufferable prat.

He never tried to avoid people. He would waltz up to her, even if she was angry and armed, and make a few charming remarks, possibly punctuating his words with a kiss on the cheek or forehead. He would never slink into a corner of the library and bury himself among piles of books to hide from her. Sadly, that was something that Lily-the-Left-Hander would do, and was currently doing.

Lily scanned a page in Hogwarts, A History for the third time. She just couldn't absorb the information, even though she had lost count of how many times she had read the book.

She had taken to hiding an hour ago, after what she had dubbed "The Incredibly Strange Incident that Occurred in the Common Room that Many Gryffindors Viewed, Therefore Embarrassing One Miss Lily Evans". Lily's usual reaction to any strange incident involving James Potter was to go to her favorite corner of the library and pile large books in stacks in front of her to hide her from view. This method usually worked, as James claimed to be allergic to the library during the day. At night, though, Lily thought with a hard smirk, when the restricted section was only protected by a chain, his allergies seemed to miraculously clear up. Since it was just barely nearing four, fortunately, Lily figured that she would be safe for a while.

Inevitably, she was wrong.

"Lily?" James called out, his voice booming through the library. "Flower?"

"James Potter!" Madame Pince snapped. "This is the library. Go out to the quidditch post if you want to yell about flowers!"

Lily breathed a sigh of relief behind her wall of books. She had never felt as much gratitude towards the librarian as she did now. Thank Merlin for Madame Pince.

"Irma," James said in a low voice. "Dear Irma…I need your help, don't you see?"

"Potter," Madame Pince hissed. "This is not appropriate…"

"I know, Irma." Lily put down Hogwarts, A History and rose up slightly so she could peek above the books. James was standing close to the librarian and was looking down at her sweetly. "It isn't. But I really, truly, and deeply need your help."

"What is it, Potter?" Madame Pince asked, but her voice was less severe.

"Irma." Lily's eyes widened as she watched James take Madame Pince's hand. "Dear Miss Evans has gone inexplicably missing! I have looked high and low for her, but she is nowhere to be found! See, I really must discuss some imperative Head business with Miss Evans. It is ever so important. So please, my dear, could you lead me to the lovely Miss Evans?"

Lily bit her lip to hold back her laughter. James really was mad! If he thought that Madame Pince would fall for that, then he was off his rocker!

"She's behind the abnormally large stack of thick books in the northeast corner," Madame Pince told him.

Lily lost all respect for Madame Pince.

"Now, kindly let go of my hand before I tell Professor McGonagall what you and Black were looking up last week."

Some of the respect returned, but Lily still felt righteously angry that she had been ratted out.

"Of course, Irma. Thank you, Irma," James said obediently.

"And it's Madame Pince!" the librarian called after James as he skipped over to the northeast corner.

Lily looked around frantically when she realized that James was coming, and that there was nowhere that she could go. She wished that she was invisible, or that you could Disapparate inside Hogwarts grounds. She wished for anything and everything that would keep her away from James Potter.

Unfortunately, wishing didn't help at all, as she soon found James's face hovering above hers as he leaned over her wall of books.

"Hello, my flower," he said gallantly, reaching out his right hand. Lily scowled at it as James looked at her in confusion. Although Lily was often angry at him, she had never expressed such hatred towards any specific extremity.

"This"—Lily motioned to his right hand with her left one—"is why we are all wrong for each other."

Lily stood up on her own and shelved a pile of books making up her wall with a flick of her wand, giving her room to exit her hiding place. When she was out, she sat down on top of a table, swinging her legs listlessly off the edge. James looked at her curiously, approaching her slowly.

"My hand is why we are all wrong for each other?" James asked. "That's why? I washed it today. Twice. I promise. It's fine."

"I mean, it's bad enough that we are polar opposites in every aspect," Lily said absently, ignoring James. "I'm neat, you're messy. I'm diligent, you're a slacker," she listed, ticking each comparison off on a finger. "I put my brain to good use, and you waste yours on worthless pranks. I'm 5' 2", and you're 6' 1"." Lily took a deep breath, eying James wearily. He had sat down on a chair to the side of her to avoid her legs. He was just below her eye level. His head was cocked to the side as he listened to the reasons that Lily had spouted time and time again, waiting for this new one that involved his hand.

"This is the worst," Lily continued. "Really, it's why we can't be together. Besides the fact that I'd happily cheer if you fell off a building and co-host your grave-dancing party with Serverus," she quickly covered, assuring her hatred for him.

"What is it?" James asked, looking unfazed about Lily's mention of how overjoyed she would be if he dropped dead at any given moment. After six years, he had learned to ignore those comments.

"You're…" Lily trailed off, looking down slightly to meet his eyes. "…right-handed."

James looked like he wanted to laugh, cry, and check Lily into a mental institution all at the same time. He settled on giving Lily a strange look while a choked, watery sound escaped his throat.

"That's the number one reason why we are incompatible?" James asked. "That I'm right-handed?"

"Yes," Lily said seriously.

"Why?" James asked, feeling the need to know why the fact that he wrote with his right hand was what Lily decided was the most important factor of whether they dated or not.

"We would never be able to shake hands," Lily replied. "It would be weird. I would hold out my left, you would hold out your right, and it would be awkward."

"Wait…so we can't go out because it would be awkward if we shook hands?" James tried to fathom, not fighting back a wave of outright laughter.

"Yes." Lily nodded her head. "Really, it's fortunate that I despise you."

"Lily, if we dated, I would probably never feel the need to shake your hand," James said.

Something slowly dawned on James. If he would have been in the company of anyone else, he would have shared the volume of his genius, possibly accompanied by a patented James Potter Happy Dance. Since he was in the company of Lily, though, he decided to just share his revelation calmly. "Lily, the fact that I'm right-handed means that we're perfect for each other. Absolutely perfect."

"Perfect?" Lily echoed. "Did you miss my logic? And the hand shaking?" She looked genuinely confused, a feeling that she rarely expressed. James wanted to make a comment on how adorable she looked, but decided to continue with his reasoning.

"Lily, if we dated, I wouldn't want to shake your hand. I would want to hold it. Which, as you see, is perfect. If you stick out your left hand and I stick out my right, then we will be perfectly comfortable and not awkward."

"Unless I'm standing on your left side."

"If you were, you would be holding onto air, and getting several very strange looks, some of them from me."

"But…" Lily searched through a loophole in James's logic. "When we shake hands…"

"If we ever have the strange desire to shake hands, then I promise that I will hold out my left one so you will be completely comfortable," James promised. "I give you my word."

"You forgot that I hate you," Lily said weakly. "And the grave-dancing party."

"You don't hate me," James said simply. "You actually rather like me."

"And how would you know that?"

"I just do." James shrugged. "It's a feeling I get."

"You aren't getting the right feeling," Lily disputed, but with no inflection. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"I do, Lily." James's right hand reached out for her left one. "I know exactly what I'm talking about." He squeezed her hand slightly and looked up so he could meet her eyes. "You know I do. You know you fancy me. And you know that I love you, and you really, really want to kiss me right now."

"Merlin," Lily gasped quietly. She had no idea why, after so many months of strange incidents, stupid excuses, and lame cover-ups, she was giving into him. Maybe it was because his eyes looked so wide and open and honest, like an innocent fawn's. Or maybe it was because his right hand felt so very wonderful in Lily's left one.

Then it was suddenly so, so blindingly clear to Lily.

"I don't want to be ambidextrous," she breathed, looking at him with wide eyes.

"Please let this be a metaphor for you're actually going to kiss me right now, not that you're going to hex me for accusing you of wanting to kiss me," James pleaded quietly. The plead was lost on Lily, though, as she was already ascending on James's lips.

As they kissed, Lily held tighter to James's right hand. She had never been happier to be left-handed in her life.

It looked like the notebook had moved its spirals to the right.