This is somewhere between fluff and banter, if you're into that sort of thing :)

Oh, yeah, Kate Nash's Birds is a good song version of this.

The problem with waking up in the Infirmary after a particularly gruelling game of Quidditch is that you never know if your team won or you just injured yourself for nothing.

In James Potter's case, the latter was not an option.

There was simply no way Gryffindor hadn't won. It had been their best game in three years. Whatever minor setback he had suffered to find himself in a hospital bed could not affect his entire team.

And yet, he had doubts, doubts that prevented him from opening his eyes. He felt more than knew that whoever was sitting by his bedside would immediately give him bad news. And he wanted to avoid the pain just yet.

He could remain in this absent state and torture himself with not knowing for a while, but it would beat having to stand defeat.

He took failure fairly well, but not when it came to Quidditch. It was the kind of game you couldn't afford to lose. He couldn't explain it. It must've been something about his pride. He had never stopped to think about it thoroughly. He just knew he had to win every time.

"I know you're not really asleep, Potter."

The voice shook him from his reveries. It was sharp, but pleasant. Like the rustle of leaves.

He squinted at the person that was hovering over him with a disapproving expression on her face.

She was a girl, not much younger than he. Her soft, red hair tickled his hands.

Her large green eyes resembled two swirling ponds. He remembered those eyes from somewhere. She was in his House. He had seen her in the common room, hunched over some book or in the library, tutoring some Third Years.

Then when he saw her Prefect badge things seemed to click. She was in the advanced classes. That is why he couldn't place her. Even though she was a Fifth Year like him she studied separate NEWTs level-classes with a selected few from each House.

He recalled having spoken to her once, briefly. Something about going to Hogsmeade. She was good friends with Marlene, who had dated Sirius the previous year and naturally, Marlene had tried dragging her friend everywhere with the Marauders.

"It's Lily Evans," she offered when he saw the confused look on his face.

"Oh, right, I knew that. You're the really smart one Slughorn keeps praising. Good job with that."

Lily pulled back her hair and sat down again. "Thanks, I guess."

"I don't see you around much. You're probably really busy," he said, gesturing towards her Prefect badge. "Er, mind telling me why you're here?"

"I'm not here for you in particular," she replied curtly. "I'm just doing my Rounds."

"Rounds? In the Infirmary?"

Lily shrugged her shoulders. "I offered."

"Care to elaborate?"

"I like watching Madam Pomfrey prepare ailments. She's helping me with medicinal potions."

James sat up properly and grabbed his glasses from the bedside table.

"That's...impressive, I guess. That you make this effort for your studies. I wouldn't stick around this place for a million galleons."

Lily smirked. "Good thing no one offered you that much."

James smiled ruefully.

"So, you like to observe the patients while you're at it, or was I a particularly interesting case?"

Lily shook her head. "Neither. I just got bored and decided to read. And your bed was the only one with the chair. Guess it was left behind when all your friends came to visit you."

Only then did he notice it was night time and that the place was quite empty save for her and Madam Pomfrey probably.

"Merlin, how much time has it been? The game's surely over then."

"It's..." she paused, checking her watch, "close to nine o'clock in the evening. So yeah, I imagine someone won and it's over."

James stared at her incredulously. How was it possible that this girl had no idea who had won?

"Hang on, you don't know who won?" he voiced his astonishment.

Lily shrugged her shoulders unfazed.

"I didn't feel like going. It's too cold outside."

James scratched his head nonplussed. "So you just sat inside by yourself, or what?"

Lily frowned. "I don't appreciate the tone. I had loads of fun just the same. And it was warm and nice."

"You could've put on a thicker scarf, you know. Quidditch can be "loads of fun" too."

Lily rolled her eyes. "I know that. But I'm not very keen on it. What's it to you, anyways?"

"Nothing. It's just strange, is all."

"Strange that I don't like Quidditch all that much?"

"No. Strange that you refused to come. Most people I know don't like it, but they still go. It feels like a House duty."

"Well, most people are silly then," she replied, smiling proudly.

James couldn't help but smile back. "Maybe."

"Are you still friends with Marlene?" he asked matter-of-factly.

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

"No reason, I was only wondering... I don't know anything about you, so I don't know what to ask you."

"You don't have to ask me anything."

"But I'm curious, you just appeared out of nowhere next to me. I might never talk to you alone again."

The two green ponds swirled again as she searched his face in amusement.

"That's a possibility," she conceded.

"So then tell me, since we might never speak again anyways, how are those classes going? Those special classes? I always wondered about those. Always felt bad I wasn't smart enough to join in."

Lily chuckled. "It's not about intelligence. It's about hard work. No one there is extremely gifted. They just burn the midnight oil a lot. That's about it."

James mulled over her statement for a while.

"So in other words, the really smart people, the people who don't have to try so hard, they're actually the ones in the normal classes?"

Lily laughed. "No, not exactly. My classmates are just as smart. They're just more focused."

"But if we are just as smart as them and we don't work as much, then it means we're superior, doesn't it?" he asked slyly.

Lily shook her head. "You're putting words into my mouth."

"I just inferred. It's quite logical actually."

"With such skills, you might just be recruited," she joked.

"Oh, no. I would never betray my mediocre entourage. They liked me when I was stupid; they're my real friends."

Lily smiled good-humouredly. "You're lucky that way."

"Don't tell me you didn't befriend anyone in that class?"

"Oh, no, no, I did. But I can't say we're close friends or anything."

"Naturally. You're all out to get each other for the best grade."

"Is that what you think?" Lily asked, arching her back.

"Well, I also know your bunch likes Arithmancy to an unhealthy extent."

"I'm more of an Ancient Runes kind of girl."

"You're lucky I've never met that type of girl before, otherwise I'd just write you off as boring," he joked, laughing.

"You're quite opinionated, you know that?"

"So I've been told."

"It's surprising."

"Why?"

"You don't seem the type."

"The type?"

"The type to have a personality."

James feigned terrible distress. "I can't believe you just said that."

"Sorry. The truth must sting."

"That's like saying I'm no better than Filch."

"Well, he's got Mrs. Norris on his side, who do you have? And don't say your biased friends because they don't count."

James shook his head amused.

"Is that what people think? That I don't have a personality?"

Lily shrugged again.

"Who cares? They'll believe whatever you tell them."

James watched as her red hair swayed back again, falling gracefully over her shoulders. He wondered why he had never noticed her before.

"I do have a nasty reputation, don't I?"

Lily seemed to ponder over his question. "You probably like that."

James chuckled. "You're a sharp one, I'll admit."

"Thanks for the condescending approval. I really needed that," she replied wryly.

James laughed again. He liked her. He definitely liked her.

And it was insane, but one of the reasons he found her so appealing was that she had no idea who had won.

She was the one person in this castle who couldn't give him the bad news.

And for that, he fell in love with her.