A/N: This was originally I had been working on titled 'Seven Minutes With Heaven' but the title changed because I happened to be hit by an even better and funnier title that seemed to fit this fic. better. It's told in Lily's POV and takes place in the middle of sixth year. R&R?

This is my fault.

All. My. Bloody. Fault.

I blame my karma. My god-awful, sadist, crappy-beyond-crappy karma. The very same karma that keeps me from standing up to my friend when she tries to drag me to social events, the very same karma that somehow ends me up in closets with certain people that are not good for my health.

The karma that recently—in a mere matter of minutes—destroyed me.

About seven hours ago I sat in the library with my best mate, Alice Prewitt. Alice was skimming through the latest issue of 'Witch Weekly' while I chose to immerse myself in the tactful art of Shakespeare's sonnets. Or, at least, that was what it appeared Alice and I were doing. It just so happens that we were not reading anything of the sort in the library at that particular moment. We were doing something else. A definitely more productive activity, in our opinions.

"Lily," Said Alice exasperatedly, shaking her brown curls as she laughed at me, "This is the…what…fifth time we've come to the library today? And for what?"

I didn't want to answer her, because that would be a very wrong thing to say out loud, even to Alice, to whom I've told every secret to since first year.

The thing was, at that moment, I was guilty of the sort of thing that only the school's girliest girls did.

Stalking.

I, Lily Marianne Evans, was stalking a student of the Hogwarts male population.

"Al," I craned my neck slowly, scanning the room, "I can't help it. I told you, the library is a place of peace for me. I've only gone here so often today because I'm in quite a difficult predicament."

"Yeah," Alice blurted, lowering her voice as Madam Pince glared at us, "A predicament of lust."

I winced and then calmly chucked the nearest quill at my friend's head. "That argument is not valid."

Alice raised one of her eyebrows and then replied, "Then tell me why it is that every time we come in here, we conveniently happen to sit at a table within a twenty feet radius of a certain boy."

I was so thankful she didn't say his name aloud. So thankful.

"I refuse to find that anything other than a mere coincidence." I told Alice, calmly flipping the page of my book, just to prove I was indeed reading.

Alice rolled her eyes and turned back to her magazine. I turned back to my book.

Of course, she was right. She was so spot on it was scary.

I came to the library for only one reason today.

And that reason, was—to quote Alice—conveniently sitting at a table within a twenty feet radius of us.

This was, sadly, something that I hadn't even done intentionally.

For the most part.

To be honest, I hadn't even looked at him once today. That in itself was a major accomplishment considering the illness I seem to have contracted, called obsession. I'd been good about it so far, pretending he's not there. The lovely thing about infatuation is that you don't necessarily have to be looking at someone to get your daily dose of infatuation. I've found that merely sitting next to said person is enough.

Usually.

But regardless of my beliefs of innocence, Alice wasn't buying it. I could tell by the side glances she kept casting me, looking utterly suspicious.

I settled into my sonnets, actually getting rather into the book, until a sharp announcement shattered my concentration.

"He's walking over here." Alice whispered, her teeth clenched in a wicked smile that I knew was just for me.

You could say that I more or less had a micro-meltdown in the library. My back suddenly went rigid and my fingers gripped my book with such a strong vigor that I thought I would tear it right in half.

Because, without even having to ask, I knew who 'he' was. And I also knew that his coming over here was probably the worst thing that could happen to me.

"Oy, Prewitt, Evans!" Yelled Sirius Black, jogging over to our table. Madam Pince shushed him. I took a deep breath and lowered my book just a fraction of an inch, keeping my eyes glued to Sirius as opposed to the person next to him, who was unmistakably grinning at me.

Alice snickered at my frigid appearance and smiled cheerily at the two boys. "Black, what brings you to this side of the library?"

"We thought we'd invite you to our exclusive surprise party for Remus Lupin this evening." Sirius grinned, leaning on the table with both hands. "Party starts at seven sharp, but if you're late, we won't hate."

Alice giggled and suddenly turned to me, "Sounds like fun. You'll be going too, Lily, right?"

I dragged my gaze away from the corner of the table, meeting Alice's slightly crazed-with-mirth smile and found myself nodding mechanically. "Wouldn't miss it for the world!"

The person next to Black beamed at me, and something in my stomach clenched, though in a painful way, I couldn't tell. "Then I guess we'll see you then! Can't wait to see you, Evans."

I tried not to look at him, really I did.

But you know, he was talking to me after all. It was only common courtesy to acknowledge his presence.

And it was a natural reaction to retaliate with a snappy comment.

"I'm sorry I can't say the same for you, Potter." I said sympathetically, finally dragging my eyes to the space on Black's left.

I immediately looked back down again, because I couldn't for the life of me keep my gaze on him without going into a cardiac arrest.

Yeah, it was that bad.

"Always the charmer, Evans." He replied, grinning down at me as I buried my nose once more in my book. "We'll see you two around."

Alice waved goodbye and I gave a slight nod as a means of farewell. Thank Merlin that was over.

"Well, c'mon then," Alice announced gaily, standing up and tossing her magazine in her bag with a flourish, "Let's go get ready!"

I glanced up from my book and raised my eyebrow. "Beg pardon?"

"Lily, we have about two hours to get ready for the party. And looking at you we clearly have some work to do, so lets go!" She yanked on my arm.

I ignored the insult to my lack of affection for outward appearance on a Saturday (meaning I was dressed in old jeans and a t-shirt, my hair pulled up in a sloppy bun) and shook my head. "Alice, I'm not going to any party. Even for Remus Lupin." In all honesty, I had no problems with Remus whatsoever. I personally adored him, in a sisterly way. It was the idea of parties; crazy, raucous, parties that made me cringe.

"But we told them we would go!" Alice whined, looking torn between leaving without me and forcing me to leave with her.

I looked at my best friend, her brown eyes shining with eagerness that I could never bring myself to possess for any social event that involved the Marauders.

"Please." She begged, grabbing my hand and squeezing it.

I'm not exactly sure why I decided to go. Alice herself knows that I despise parties with every living fiber in my body. I had no desire to be down in the common room for God-knows-how-many-hours, wishing I had never come and hating myself for thinking I would have fun. It's just not me to agree to this sort of thing.

Yet I found myself nodding, agreeing to go to the party, despite what my tiny conscience was telling me to do.

What ability I had to stick up for myself then quickly diminished as I allowed Alice to drag me to the girl's dormitory.

The next two hours was something that was more excruciating than any Ancient Runes exam or Transfiguration essay.

Ignoring my bleats for mercy and justice, Alice promptly forced me into a pair of low-cut jeans that she claimed made my ass look fantastic, a black tank top that seemed to reveal a little much cleavage for my liking, and a rather large amount of makeup. I stood there, in front of the mirror, feeling that if any more makeup was added I would be drowning in a cosmetic goop.

"Is this really necessary?" I asked uneasily.

"Honey," Alice appeared next to me, sporting a pink tank top with a sparkly gray skirt, "Trust me. In this outfit, you won't need to stalk James Potter in libraries anymore. He'll be stalking you."

Ignoring the use of the name while pulling my hair back into a knotted bun that left a few strands hanging down I said, "Doubtful. But fine, I'll wear it. That doesn't mean I'm going to stay for the whole party."

Truth be told, I wasn't looking forward to the party at all. I never am, when it comes to events that involve certain people. I subtly stuck my book in the back pocket of my jeans, praying Alice wouldn't catch it and confiscate it (she's been known to tackle me down in order to do so).

I stood at the door of the dorm room, tapping my foot anxiously and waiting for Alice as she finished up her makeup. It was already a quarter past seven, something I made sure she knew.

"It's good to be fashionably late." Alice cooed, tweaking her eye shadow. "Besides, if we get there after there's a crowd, it means we'll have less of a chance of being noticed. And you don't want to be noticed, do you, Lil?"

While there was nothing I could do to argue with that logic, I was still antsy to get downstairs. Because after getting down stairs, I would be able to make my appearance at the party, and then quietly slip back upstairs away from the mayhem.

That was the plan, to say the least, but my dear friend seemed to have every intention of thwarting it.

"Don't even think about it," She growled, seeming to see the gears in my head clicking away as I plotted out my escape, "We're going to go down there and stay down there until the last possible minute, Lily Evans. I don't care how much you hate parties."

I feigned innocence, which was very convincing up until the part where Alice said, "Besides, you'll be able to continue in your stalking down there. Fun, yeah?"

I soon lost my innocent gaze, which was replaced with a highly embarrassed, beet red one. Thinking about what I would do to get revenge on her was the only thing that kept me from strangling my best friend right there, I promise you.

I should have known about then, as we entered the common room with the up-most subtlety that this wasn't going to end well. I should have known that Alice Prewitt, combined with my karma, was going to bring about my ultimate doom tonight. I don't care if I was supposed to do as she said and 'get my flirt on' and have a good time, because I knew that the chances of that were slim as I walked down the staircase into the common room, with all the self-confidence of a mole buried deep beneath the ground.

Alice and I walked to the farthest corner (Okay, I lead her there with an iron grip) and had a seat in an arm chair next to each other. But while Alice sat daintily on the arm, I slumped and sank into the cushions as far as possible, wishing the chair would simply swallow me whole.

"Oh," Alice sighed, bringing her chin to rest on her palm, "There's Frank Longbottom. He's so dreamy."

I glanced across the room with a rather large smirk as Frank Longbottom waved at Alice, grinning rather widely. Alice sighed again and I rolled my eyes.

"What?" She snapped, reeling around to glare at me. "I'm not aloud to sigh over Frank but you're aloud to drag me around for your useless stalking of Jam—oof!"

My instant reaction was to reach up and clamp both my hands over Alice's big trap before she said something that brought about the ruin of my life. Honestly, only Alice would do that unknowingly.

"Do you see me stalking right now?" I asked through gritted teeth. "No. Unlike some people, who do their stalking in the middle of parties, I like to do mine on my own time, when no one is noticing."

But Alice, dear, dear Alice, was not even listening to me. I might as well have been talking to the moving staircase, because she was already once again looking at Frank Longbottom, attention no longer on me.

And I had thought I was bad with this whole stalking thing.

Eventually, Frank waved Alice over to where he was standing with some other Gryffindors. She all but flew across the room, forgetting about me in an instant.

It was about here where I started to question whether coming to this party was really as worth it as she had claimed it to be.

Sighing woefully, and thinking this was the most exciting my evening was going to get, I pulled my book out of the back pocket of my jeans, opening it to my current page.

Normally, it would have taken me a mere thirty five seconds to get lost in it and forget where I am.

But, as I've already stated, the forces of the universe really had better—or worse—things planned for me.

"Padfoot!" Shouted an all-too familiar voice, "Where'd you put the record player?!"

I winced, knowing the voice that I heard had just guaranteed the destruction of my concentration. I slowly lifted my eyes from the page, just as Sirius shouted back, "It's upstairs in the dorm, mate! Under Peter's bed!"

I looked at who Black yelled at, and then quickly turned back to my book, staring at the word 'summer' over and over until my blush began to fade. I heard the thumping of feet as that person left that room and visibly sighed in relief.

I couldn't pretend the party wasn't in full swing by then. About half of Gryffindor house was in the common room, talking and chattering away. I also couldn't pretend that I felt oddly cut off from the ball of happiness that seemed to be circulating the room. Like a fly on the wall, I watched the various conversations, watching the drama already set in as some couples argued and broke up and others just got back together.

Ah, youth.

It was entertaining enough for me, staring out over the edge of my book and being all very discreet. But I started to realize after a few minutes that I was really hungry. As in, colossally, hugely, I'm-about-to-gnaw-my-arm-off, hungry.

I would have ignored it, were it not for the giant snack table sitting right across the common room from me. It had a whole feast on there, as well as my favorite snack, large chocolate chip cookies.

I sat there, eyeing the snack table with the highest amount of yearning as my stomach grumbled angrily, not liking being empty.

It was a quick choice to make; starve or make a quick trip to food paradise. Looking to my right and left to make sure no one was looking, I silently stood, stuffing my book under the chair cushion and walking over to the snacks.

Once I was there, I don't think I was very good at convincing myself to leave. Because there was so much food there and I was literally dying of hunger.

In the midst of my stacking chocolate chip cookie after chocolate chip cookie on a small plate, someone tapped me on the shoulder. I whirled around, fearing the worst had finally happened.

I smiled as Remus Lupin grinned at me and asked, "Hungry, Lily?"

I grinned back, happy it was only one fourth of the Marauders, and, more importantly, a fourth I actually liked. "Yes, dying of hunger. Happy Birthday to you, by the way. I bet you love the party."

Remus laughed. "I haven't gotten to sit down and relax in about an hour. I think Sirius and the rest of them did this just to wear me out."

Laughing as well, I held out a chocolate chip cookie, which he took enthusiastically. I started to think that maybe joining the party scene wasn't that bad of an idea, and that maybe I could have fun.

I realized a second later that I was daft for even thinking that.

Completely daft.

"Evans!" Someone's voice boomed behind me. I turned to find myself staring up at the mischievous face of Sirius Black, wearing a very telling grin and holding a butter beer in his hand.

I looked up at him as he dragged his eyes over my appearance with a very satisfied smirk. "Prewitt was right; you look hot, Evans!"

I winced. "Thank you."

Suddenly, the very last person I wanted to see walked over to the snack table. "Padfoot, I found the record player but not the records. Are you sure it was under Peter's bed?"

I saw and felt his eyes switching from Sirius to me, and felt incredibly naked as he looked me over, eyes seeming to linger in all the wrong (or right?) places.

I was face to face with him and had no idea what to do.

I say him, because the mere mention of his name….does things to me.

"Hello, Potter." I greeted, forcing myself to concentrate on my shoes instead of him. "Fancy taking a picture? It'll last longer."

His grin was like a beam of sunshine, and I was the vampire shrinking away from it. "You know that I would, Evans, but I don't even think a photo would capture the beauty that adorns you tonight."

My cheeks were flooded with warmth again, and I knew that if I didn't get out of here soon enough, something drastic was going to happen. Whether it was a death or a jumping of bones, I wasn't sure.

I turned, almost mechanically, to Remus and wished him Happy Birthday once again before walking away. But I still felt uncomfortable, because I had that strongest of feelings that someone was staring at me, that or trying to burn a hole in my head.

Ignoring the feeling and most certainly NOT looking for the person the stare belonged to, I took a seat, pulling my book out again and leaning into the cushions, willing myself invisible as I munched on a chocolate chip cookie.

"Hiya, Evans," I nearly jumped out of my pants when the voice sounded behind my ear, "What are you up to?"

Because I did not prepare myself, nor did I even consider that it would happen, I quickly became subject to a very serious lapse of judgement on my behalf.

Hormones.

They're deadly, I tell you. I could tell, because for a second, my heart stuttered, I gasped, and my entire body was thrumming with a random source of energy.

And all because James Potter had whispered in my ear.

Merlin.

He came around the chair and sat on the arm, just as Alice had done earlier. I did my best to pretend he wasn't really there, but when a bloke is staring at you with a stupid, silly grin, you have to sort of look back at him.

Besides, it wasn't like I could ignore him, what with the aforementioned hormonal assault.

When I looked at him, I tried not to really see him. I tried to ignore that he was wearing jeans and an emerald t-shirt that seemed to be fitting his body all too well. I tried to ignore the way he was looking at me, his eyes open and utterly dazzling in the light. I also tried to ignore the way my body was reacting to him. You might as well have poured gasoline on my skin and tossed a match on me.

And then, I had to admit a terrible secret to myself.

I was lusting after James Potter. Badly.

Yet somehow, I managed to act with the non-chalance of my former Lily self (where had she gone?!) and reply. "I'm wondering what I was thinking when I agreed to let Alice drag me into this mess."

He was smiling at me, the way he only does when I'm around, tipping his head slightly to the side like an over-excited puppy dog. "You're not having fun, Evans?"

"Was it the slightly bored and pissed off expression that gave it away?" I asked saucily, shifting in my seat so as to put a little more space between us.

Potter looked me over once more and then shook his head. "C'mon, Evans. You're at a party, looking quite stunning—might I add—and you don't want to have any fun? How about a butter beer?"

Now that I look back on it, I think I should have said yes. It probably would have been good to get drunk enough so I wouldn't have to remember the rest of the evening. But of course, I had to decline. Because it was James Potter who was offering me a drink and compliments without charge, and that didn't seem to settle well with my stomach.

In fact, nothing about James at that moment seemed to be settling well with my stomach, which kept clenching.

Not that it was important or anything.

"Look," I placed my book on my lap, "Why don't you go and be a good party host and talk to the more willing guests, Potter? Because I think we both know that you and I in conversation will not end well."

Though I spoke the truth, he only seemed to find it amusing. With a confident wink, he hopped off the arm of the chair and walked away. "Only for you, Evans. Only for you."

I can honestly say I almost drooled as I watched him walk away, because (sad as it was) I had to notice that his jeans fit his bum in a very attractive away. The knots my stomach had tied itself in loosened and my body quit the random spasms that were running crazy through my system.

The truth was, it wasn't the first time I had stared at Potter's backside, nor was it the first time I had gotten so worked up over a mere two minute conversation with him. True, I had been pretty good since realizing my sudden, surprising, horribly strong crush on him. I had only allowed myself to stare when I was sure I was able to not be caught. I only talked to him when he came up to me beforehand. At first, I thought that denying myself more Potter would quit the craving.

But, as one can see by my most recent Potter encounter, it only seems to make everything worse ten times over.

And it's not like I don't know he's crazy about me as well, or that if I told him how I felt, he'd be more than fine with it. It's more the fact that we're Potter and Evans. Evans and Potter. He's dangerous and reckless whereas I'm prudish and sensible. We exist on two different planets, in which every thought and emotion is processed in a completely different way. For example; he sees the possibility of dating me as a life long experience. I see it as a chaotic apocalypse waiting to happen.

Hence, the Potter encounters. Because there is no way we're of the same species.

I snatched up my book the instant after Potter left and hid my face behind it, allowing the mortified blush to fill my entire face. There was no way I was going to survive tonight if he kept assaulting me like that, spontaneously and not giving me time to prepare.

I really didn't know what there was to do about the situation but avoid Potter and return his compliments with scathing remarks. It didn't matter how much the idea of dating him seemed to appeal to my mad sense and it didn't matter how much he persisted. Because Potter and I, no matter how badly we might want to be together, would never work. We're too different; 'opposites attract' be damned.

This, I tried to convince myself, was the reason I was in such a mood at the moment, reading Shakespeare with an almost savage determination.

Some time later, (I was almost done with the book, so I'm guessing it was about an hour later) I noticed that everyone was starting to gather in a circle on the floor, and that a small broom cupboard had appeared near the portrait hole. I watched, feigning disinterest as Sirius announced they would now be taking things to the next level and playing 'Seven Minutes in Heaven'.

I didn't need to be a resident of the Wizarding World to know what was.

My time to sneak back to the dorms had come.

I stood slowly, book in hand, inching towards the staircase and wishing/praying/hoping no one would see me.

It was then when the karma kicked in even more.

Suddenly, as I just started to make it to the staircase and the group started to chatter excitedly, my nose started to itch.

An itch that built and built and built into a loud sneeze.

I stood there; hand over my nose and everyone turned to look at me. My escape had been foiled with one bodily reaction.

"Oy!" Sirius Black yelled. "Don't think you're going to skive on us, Evans! C'mon and join us for a steamy game!"

Everyone started yelling, "Yeah, Lily!" and "C'mon Evans!" (Which struck me as odd because I only knew half these people by face. Clearly, there was a low tolerance for alcohol in some Gryffindors.) and Alice looked at me with puppy dog eyes and I really had no valid excuse to leave anyway.

So I placed my book on the sofa, walked over to the circle, and sat next to Alice and Marlene McKinnon, who both looked as excited as I felt nervous.

Sirius Black stood in the middle of the circle, toying with an empty butter beer bottle. "The game goes like this, for all you novices." He smiled at me and I glared. "I will spin the bottle. Whoever it lands on will be shoved in that closet and locked in," He pointed into the closet in the corner of the room, "With me, to be timed for seven minutes. What I do with said person depends on what we agree on." I felt the instinct to gag. "When the seven minutes is up, we're let out and the person to my right will spin the bottle next. If you land on a member of the same sex, you have to spin again!" Everyone let out uneasy laughter at that one.

I'm not sure why I didn't walk out of there right then and be done with it. I am such a loser.

The next half hour consisted of multiple couples going into the closet and coming out with mussed hair and swollen lips, grinning like idiots.

Alice went in with Frank Longbottom, much to my pleasant surprise. Though, to be honest, she didn't really spin the bottle. She just sort of nudged it in his direction, which I found rather hilarious. Alice came out and sat next to me after the seven minutes were up, shaking with a huge amount of giggles that I didn't know she was capable of.

Sirius Black ended up going with Marlene McKinnon, both of whom came out looking properly…erm….windswept afterwards. And they weren't the only ones. Remus went in with Dorcas Meadowes, the quiet seventh year and even they seemed to have a good time. I watched the entire game with mild amusement, bored out of my skull as well as grateful for not having to participate.

I was faintly aware of a pair of eyes looking at me curiously, but knew it would be better to not look at them, as it might start some Potter-induced spasms again. In an effort to have some fun of my own, I began playing my own silent version of I-spy, looking for objects of certain color. I tried getting Alice to play after a while, but she kept spying the same object; a boy with brown hair and a round face. And while I had no objections to looking at Frank Longbottom, I easily got bored of guessing correctly over and over again as Alice sighed and mooned over him.

As we sat there, and I was about to guess Frank Longbottom for the fifteenth time, something was tossed into my lap.

I looked down, my smile freezing in place as I saw the butter-beer bottle, sitting just so in my crossed legs.

"Your turn, Lily!" Marlene grinned at me, looking freshly snogged and glowing.

I felt everyone's eyes on me, expecting me to leave or throw the bottle at someone else. I really should have done that; gotten rid of the bottle as soon as humanely possible. I knew I was now the center of attention, being one of the only people in the circle who hadn't been in the closet yet.

Personally, between you and me, I was sort of excited as I shrugged and placed the bottle on the rug, giving it a firm spin.

I knew that my kissing options weren't all that bad. All the Gryffindor boys were pretty good looking, and no one necessarily said we had to kiss in the closet. I happen to know that Gidget Brown and Herb Wilkes did not do one wit of snogging in that closet, because they both came out looking perfectly in order. It was a simple enough plan, what I had in mind.

And yet, in the back of my mind, I could feel the sense of unease and turmoil brewing. I could feel my karma cackling as it carried out another deed for me.

I closed my eyes, crossed my fingers and prayed to every higher being that it landed on someone who would rather sit in the closet and chat then kiss me.

Because, don't get me wrong, while I have kissed boys, I'm not the kind to jump in a closet and snog for fun. That's just not me.

A few seconds went by and I knew that as I sat there, my karma was taking a pick-axe to my good luck and ripping it to shreds.

I heard the cheers and cat calls before anything else and, assuming that the bottle had chosen its target, opened my eyes.

The bottle was still, pointing right across the circle to…

Oh.

Oh.

Damn you, karma.

It was then that I realized, in the midst of all this not worrying about not getting a hands-to-himself bloke, I had forgotten one very important factor.

And that factor (Who, incidentally, hadn't been in the closet yet either) was what the bottle was pointing at.

I inwardly groaned as James Potter's shocked face made everyone cheer louder. His eyebrows may have disappeared into his hair for a few seconds, but I wasn't sure because at that moment, the floor suddenly seemed much more fascinating then the events around me.

I could feel his smile, even though I wasn't even looking at him, bigger than his own head (That says a lot, mind you, considering how big it is with his ego and all.). Alice gripped my hand with a sly smile and I had to ignore the urge to strangle her once more.

I stood, feeling oddly at peace with myself. I mean, I don't know what Potter had in mind for the closet time, but I knew what I was going to do.

It involved staying as far away as possible from him and never even speaking to him.

Several hands pushed me into the closet.

I looked around, like a confused child who woke up in someone else's bed. The closet was very small. In fact, it was a good five feet less in diameter then it looked on the outside. It was completely dark, save for a little light that just barely reached throughout the entire appliance, and the only thing that stood in the closet was a small stool. It took a little longer for my eyes to adjust to realize I was still alone.

I smiled to myself, thinking that maybe Potter had mysteriously died before getting to the closet. How sad.

But my hopes were once again destroyed by my karma-with-a-pick-axe because seconds later, the door was opened and Potter was shoved in, colliding painfully with me as the door was shut in our faces.

It wasn't until the lock clicked in place; however, that I started losing my calm demeanor that seemed to have possessed me a mere minute ago.

I needed to get the hell out of that bloody closet.

I stepped away from Potter, glaring at him and listening to the beep outside the closet that marked the start of the seven minutes.

He seemed to have quickly gotten used to the darkness, because he promptly grinned at me. "Alright, Evans, let's get down to business, shall we?" He leaned forward and pulled me to him by the belt loops on my jeans.

I was so close to him that it only made sense for me to lose my mind, but somehow, I managed to shove him off me before his lips came anywhere near me, kicking him in the shin as well.

I heard the grunt of pain and telepathically thanked Alice for forcing me into three inch heels as opposed to the usual trainers. It turned out my crap best mate came in use after all.

"Let me make this perfectly clear, Potter," I threatened, standing as tall as possible (Not easy for one of five foot two), "I have no intention of getting down to any business whatsoever in this closet. Or ever, for that matter. Are we understanding of each other?"

I'm sure the look on my face must have looked scary enough, because Potter backed away with hands held up like under arrest, shaking his head wearily. "All right Evans, you win." He answered.

I tucked a stray hair behind my ear a flourish. "Damn straight. Now, you go over to that side and stay there. I'll be over here."

He shuffled over to the farthest edge of the closet and I did to the other.

We were still less then a yard apart. I made a mental note to go after the idiot who conjured up the closet.

"Can't we at least talk?" He asked cautiously.

"No." I snapped, grateful that I could look at the wall instead of him. "We will sit here until we're let out."

And so we stood, silent. I stubbornly and him unwillingly.

I counted down minutes, lost track and started again in attempts to keep my mind from wandering to the other side of that closet. Seven minutes had to have gone by. I wanted to get out of there more than anything.

And yet…

I could see James' toned arms in the near dark, and the rippling of his muscles as he shifted and began to lean against the wall, as well as the shadow of his narrow nose. His hair was as disheveled as ever, giving him the appearance of having just got off on his broom, and even darker in the dim lighting. My hand twitched as I felt the oddest want to run my fingers through it. I couldn't see most of his face, because there was—thankfully—enough distance between us to prevent that. And I wasn't complaining. Honestly.

I glanced at my watch, and then remembered I hadn't brought my watch. Was it seven minutes yet? I started feeling very claustrophobic, and recalled that time I had passed out in an elevator (and seemed to forget the fact that I was having a concussion at the time). I started breathing a little quicker and my throat seemed to close up. I was going to die. They were going to forget about us in here and we'd never be found until we were long dead.

My masochistic mind suddenly conjured up a fantasy in which my body was buried next to Potter's. On my grave reads 'Found in a Closet with her Sworn Enemy'.

The need to get out became more urgent then ever.

"Uh, Lily?" James turned to me, looking uneasy as I sat there hyperventilating.

Why would they leave me in here? Why would Alice let me die in such cruel circumstances? I suddenly came up with the notion that Alice was in on this all along. And now, because of my sick, sick friends and new found claustrophobia, I was going to die in this measly, empty broom cupboard with none other than James Potter at my side.

Panic ripped through me and I got up to run to the door and start banging and screaming for mercy.

Unfortunately for me, I never really made it that far.

Remember that little foot stool that I so conveniently mentioned earlier?

As I ran for the exit to the broom closet, my foot collided painfully with the foot stool. My legs, being very unstable in those three inch heels (Forget what I said about thanking Alice for those) got easily tangled up and soon enough, I was falling.

"Lily!" I felt Potter move and tried to warn him that I was falling in his general direction. But as I opened my mouth, my skull banged against a rather sharp object (Which turned out to be Potter's chin), bringing on some sort of wooziness, on top of my tangled legs, claustrophobia, hyperventilation, and over all hatred for the current situation.

It took me a split second to realize that I wasn't falling anymore. It took about six more of those same split seconds to also realize that he caught me.

Potter, I mean.

One of his arms was completely around my waist while the other rubbed at his chin. My arms were wrapped around his neck in a pathetic attempt to stay upright (Damn heels….) and my face was pressed in his shirt.

For some reason, my brain wasn't processing or working right (Due to lack of oxygen, I'm sure.) because I felt myself in Potter's arms (As well as the muscles that came with them) and knew my face was pressed in his shirt (He smelled slightly of chocolate chip cookies and the soap they keep in the Prefect's bathroom, much to the pleasure of my olfactory) but couldn't seem to truly think much about it. I was oddly of accepting of the whole thing for a while.

That is, until the prat decided to talk.

"A little klutzy, aren't we, Evans?" sounded his voice from above me, reverberating throughout his chest.

I opened my eyes but kept my head where it was, still feeling light-headed, but now in a more panicky way. "Shut up." I snapped, trying to get more air in my lungs and sort out the weird messages that my brain was sending in order to keep me from taking a course of action. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

"And articulate?" His voice was dripping with sarcasm and high amusement at my expense. "My, we're on a roll today."

I wanted to kill him; that was the first thought I could muster.

Where was my wand when I needed it?!

The next thought was to take a course of action, because clearly, staying here in James Potter's arms was not working for me.

I raised my head and found that was as much of a course of action as I could take, because I suddenly found myself nose to nose with Potter. Him and his stupid, bloody, perfectly straight nose.

"Go away." The words came out as a whisper, though the glare accompanying was something to be proud of on my behalf.

I didn't expect his reply, however. "Make me." A twisted, daring smile danced across his lips, though I didn't let myself look for too long.

I begged my brain for help, sifting through edgy comebacks meant to throw Potter off. What I came up with, I hadn't used since about first year.

"I don't make trash, I burn it."

Yeah.

It really was sad, the fight I was putting up against him.

Just. Plain. Sad.

"Touché." He parried.

I stepped back from him, removing my arms from his neck and crossing them firmly across my chest as his eyes ran up and down me. If he tried anything, I'd be ready to kick his arse.

Or so I thought.

"C'mon Potter, let go of me." I demanded, gesturing angrily at his vice-like grip. I was surprised with how well my mind seemed to function. This was going well; I could talk my way right out of this.

"Why?" He asked boyishly, with a smaller grin. I could tell I was winning. This was a piece of cake.

"Because," I answered irritably, "I need to think of a way to get out of this closet, but I can't think straight at all when you're touching me like that."

There was a pause, as both Potter and I processed what I had just said.

All that was going through my head was this: Red alert! Abort mission! Get the hell out of there! No more talking! Just get out!

As to what passed through James' alien mind, well, it was easy to see as soon as he smiled.

The smile was undoubtedly, the evilest, cruelest, most delighted, damn sexiest smile that I had ever seen.

I changed tactics and chose to look at his eyes instead.

Which, I should add, was the hugest of mistakes on my behalf.

Guh.

The crap lighting of that closet seemed to make Potter's eyes light up like two beaming lighthouse beacons. The brown in his eyes smoldered at me and the combination of gold and green conveyed exactly what the ponce had in mind to do next. I could see his entire plan laid out like open blue prints.

I think the fact that I wasn't struggling anymore to get out of his arms sort of speaks for itself.

"Is that so?" He asked quietly, taking a step towards me.

I backtracked, panicking more then ever now. "W-what I meant is that you're so annoying that I can't think about anything else because I'm thinking of ways to kill you."

He took another step in and I felt my back hit the wall of the closet. I couldn't look away from his face, where his eyes were all but hypnotizing me and his lips were looking very kissable. "I think you're lying, Lils."

I was cornered. He called me 'Lils'. I was losing control. Those were the three facts I was able to notice. And even that seemed to be too much for me to comprehend.

"I-I'm not." It took me forever to get that measly phrase out of my mouth, nearly losing it. Being so close to James was doing things to me, not letting me do things that were normal Lily things to do, such as thinking rationally, being calm, and…hm….NOT LETTING JAMES POTTER BE NEAR ME.

"No?" He touched his nose to mine. "Even so, you still have to convince me to let go of you, don't you now?"

He had a point right there.

Okay, Lily, think. Use that Evans wit and get him off you.

"I will…erm…hurt you if you don't let go of me." I mumbled incoherently, watching as he smiled devilishly again, making my stomach tie in a hundred knots at once.

"Lily, Lily, Lily," He shook his head, hair brushing lightly against my forehead and said huskily, "I don't believe that you are in any position to take control of this situation."

The way he said that, combined with the way he was smiling at me and the fact that one of his arms was propped on the wall next to my head (Cornering me even more), made every organ in my body just drop to my feet. My eyes widened as I realized how much trouble I had gotten in.

"You disgust me, Potter." I tried to pull away from him but only seemed to hit my head on the wall of the closet.

That was my last attempt to fight him off. Because right after I said that, he laughed quietly, breath fanning across my face as he leaned forward even more.

"On the contrary," He laughed softly, "I'm thinking I have quite the opposite affect."

I didn't bother arguing, because we both knew he was right.

And then, he proceeded to do something that made me practically die right on the spot.

He leaned forward and placed the lightest of kisses on my collarbone.

Despite it being in the middle of a warm March, and the fact that we were cooped up in a stuffy closet, I visibly shivered, cursing myself for wearing a tank top. He smiled into my neck and placed another kiss inches above the location of the first. I trembled.

"Lily," Hearing him say my first name again sent a thrill through me, and my pulse set off like an unbroken stallion, "I don't think you mean all those horrible things you say to me."

He sounded pensive, almost sentimental, but the minute he pressed another kiss to my jaw line I knew he was torturing me, purposefully setting my nerves on fire with the lightest contact.

"In fact," He brought his lips to my ear, whispering almost too quiet for even me, "I think the only reason you do it is because you want to cover up all the things you really want to say," A small kiss on my ear lobe, "And all the things you really want to do."

If I hadn't been blushing before, I sure was now, my cheeks filled with incredible warmth (as if I wasn't warm enough, right?).

"Mmm." My mouth was filled with mush. I wasn't even sure what I had been trying to say, but all that came out was a small whimper as I temporarily closed my eyes.

A kiss to my forehead, my cheek, my nose; I was all but a puddle in his hands and he hadn't even gone near my lips.

Even with my eyes closed, I could feel how close he was to me, how one arm was on my waist and how his other had snaked to the back of my head and had managed to undo the bun, letting my hair fall to my shoulders.

I opened my eyes slowly, staring at him through hooded lids that were torn between staying open and closing again. He was no longer smiling at me, his face as serious as I'd ever seen it. I was barely aware of his hand moving from my hair to my cheek, cupping it and stroking along the jaw. He was so close, and his eyes were burning into me like two embers in a dying fire, refusing to go out.

My body was pulsing with some new feeling that I wasn't aware of until now. I realized that I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted him to shove me up against the wall and snog me senseless until I couldn't breathe, or speak, or even for a normal thought.

He was looking at me with restrained intent, and I knew that he was waiting for me to give him permission to do it.

I couldn't say anything, transfixed as I was by the way he looked at me. The only thing that managed to come out of my mouth was this:

"James."

I'm not sure how I said it, whether I whispered it or yelled it or said it in sign language. I was so out of it already that I couldn't tell you if I had already been in that closet for a whole day. I was only aware of the two of us, and how he was touching me and looking at me.

My name dropped like an atom bomb in the silence before it. James blinked, his long eye lashes sending another thrill through me, and the corner of his lips quirked as a ghost of a smile crossed his features.

And then, without a moment's hesitation, he captured my lips in his own.

Clearly, my saying his first name aloud for the first time ever was permission enough for him.

My body went limp against the wall of that closet, and I was grateful that I had that and James to keep me holding up. Because, what with the way my knees seemed to have been hit by a Jelly Legs Jinx, I would have fallen down if I wasn't between Potter and a hard place.

I should probably mention that any venom I felt towards the game 'Seven Minutes in Heaven' was quickly lost as soon as James kissed me.

Because once it started, neither of us had any intentions of letting it stop.

My senses were very awake by then, noting everything going on in that moment, the way we were pressed together in that tight closet space, the way his hands went from my waist to my hair to my face in a matter of seconds, as if they couldn't decide which was better to touch, the way my eyes immediately dropped closed, and how I didn't seem to mind one whit, and most of all, the way he kissed me.

And kissed me and kissed me and kissed me.

My hands were running all too eagerly through his hair and I pressed myself closer to him, not trusting myself to stand on my own. I know that by then I should have been reacting and doing something other than snogging him, but once I got the taste of him in my mouth, and his scent was filling my head and creating some sort of Hallelujah Chorus in the back of my mind, there was no turning back.

Somehow my contented sighs became moans, and James only seemed eager to continue pleasing me, moving his lips against mine in a delicious pressure that made me dizzy as he smiled into each kiss.

I suppose that my reaction was more or less a very slaggish reaction. But I was completely defenseless otherwise. Like a blind-man stumbling through a sound proof room, I was able to do nothing but acquiesce to the demands of Potter's lips.

I'm really not sure how long it would have continued, James kissing me and me kissing James and mussing his hair and embracing him over and over, but I have an odd feeling it would have just existed onwards forever.

That is, if the door hadn't suddenly flew open with a BANG.

The bright, luminescent light of the common room was the first thing I noticed. Next was the absence of James' lips (I had gotten rather used to them, you know).

It was about this moment where I suddenly got all coherent thought back. I shoved Potter off me, gasping for air that I hadn't gotten in all that time we'd been snogging (I know, embarrassing). My eyes suddenly got used to the light from outside and I looked, seeing that—much to my horror—the entire party had just seen James Potter and Lily Evans caught in a rather interesting position.

A.K.A.: snogging passionately in the corner of an empty broom cupboard.

I was semi-disoriented as a cacophony of sound (Involving wolf-whistling and cat-calls) hit my ears. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Alice gaping and everyone else grinning and yelling like crazy. Yet my eyes were mainly locked on one person.

And as soon as my eyes met his, I found that all I wanted to do was pull his face back to mine.

Potter was torn between gaping and smiling and frowning and looking like someone killed his pet owl. A number of emotions flashed across his features that I couldn't read.

"Lily." He reached for me. Or, maybe, that's what it seemed like. Everything was sort of hazy right then.

I considered my options for this encounter. Ways of escape, and ways of merely dealing with it.

Option A) Snog him. This was the option that I wanted to go through with. But my common sense seemed to have made its way back after a seven minute vacation and did not like this option. Besides, it really wouldn't have solved anything, other then the loud screaming my lips were doing at that second.

Option B) the Evans solution. I learned this at home, from my mum when family dinners would get too hectic and all she wanted to do was go in the kitchen and have a glass of sherry. All one has too do is to make up an excuse.

And then get the hell out of there.

I chose option B, because, really, I was in no stable condition to switch back into slag-mode any time soon. Merlin, I was blushing so much.

So, without another glance at anyone in the room, I calmly walked out of the room, tripping slightly over my heels as I went up the staircase, ignoring everyone's (especially his) stares.

As soon as I was out of view, I sprinted into the girl's dorm, running to my bed and burying my face in the pillows. I was up again in a mere amount of seconds, catching a glance of myself in the mirror.

I looked—to put it bluntly—even worse than the people that had come out of the closet earlier. I made Marlene McKinnon look like a saint compared to my state.

My hair—which we all know for it's natural craziness—was no less then a bird's nest. I figured as I gaped at it that James had probably done that himself, the prat, with his wandering hands. My shirt had ridden up slightly around my waist. My face was fully flushed, my eyes were bright, and my lips were the size of a rose bud, looking kissed beyond capacity.

It was as I saw my appearance that I concluded that my life is truly over.

Because now, even as I lie here, hours later, with my curtains drawn around my four-poster and the other girls asleep (Even Alice), I know that tomorrow is only going to make everything worse.

Potter will ask me out again. Everyone will be talking about it. Alice will want to know everything (I pretended to be asleep when she came in not twenty minutes ago) and I will be (Not for the first time, mind you) subjected to the cruel torture that is the Hogwarts Gossip Mill.

And maybe James will ask me out again and I may even hesitate for a second before saying no, because I'm too afraid to have any more encounters. And maybe I'll finally get him out of my system, because it turns out I didn't like the kiss as much as I thought I did (LIE). And maybe my karma will go away and this will all be a bad dream.

Or maybe I will just kill myself and spare everyone the hassle.

I hate him.

I hate him so much.

Never in my life will I go out with James Potter. Because this whole ordeal is his and my karma's fault.

And my fault.

I roll over onto my side and nestle into my blankets, exhausted. With a forlorn sigh, I close my eyes, allowing my mind to stop denying itself from thinking about what it really wants.

Oh, that kiss…

I secretly smile to myself and let myself to dream incessantly about my favorite Potter-encounter of the day.

A/N: Ah, I love denial one-shots when Lily is being thick-headed, don't you? REVIEW!