Disclaimer: Insert witty statement saying that I don't own HP here. Oh, and I don't own Vindicated, that's by Dashboard Confessional. I just thought it fit this chapter nicely.

A/N: Well, this was written as a response to a challenge by Ivy Leaves, and it had to comply with the following rules:

Must feature L/J in a leading role.

Must be told from James' perspective

Must have at least a dose of seriousness.

Not using the term "kissed passionately."

So here goes nothing. It's going to be a one shot, methinks. Read and Review, please!

Royally Screwed

So turn
Up the corners of your lips
Part them and feel my finger tips
Trace the moment, fall forever
Defense is paper thin
Just one touch and I'd be in
Too deep now to ever swim against the current
So let me slip away

-Vindicated, Dashboard Confessional

My name is James Potter and I am royally screwed. I suppose I should be more horrified and gasp in shock or doing something incredibly Rita Skeeterish (also known as theatrically overdramatic and annoying), but really, it's not like it's a revelation. After being royally screwed for a bit over three years, you get kind of used to the feeling. It's old news, anyway. Well, it's old news to anyone but Her.

It's kind of ironic. She's supposed to be smart. Head Girl, Prefect for two years, top of her class, Charms and Potions genius, bloody brilliant Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. And yet she can't pick up on the fact that her best friend has had a crush the size of Hogwarts on her for the past three years. Even Sirius cottoned on. And that boy's as dense as lead. Perhaps Remus told him? Moony's much more 'emotionally sensitive', as Lily likes to put it.

It wouldn't be so bad to have a gigantic crush on Lily Evans if it weren't for three things. First off, she doesn't like me back. I'm almost absolutely positive about this, even though Remus disagrees with me. He says that Lily and I are (and I quote) "very, very blind and dumb for two people who are very, very smart." Typical Remus. Terribly confusing when he wants to be. Secondly, she's bloody gorgeous. Do you know how intimidating it is to know that you're competing with a good fifty percent of the male population at Hogwarts for her favor? When I told Sirius this problem, his jaw dropped about ten feet.

"You're James bloody Potter!" He had cried in shock. "Quidditch star chaser and Captain of the Gryffindor team, Marauder member, Head Boy, second hottest boy in Hogwarts next to me! What's so hard about catching Lily flower?" If I had the patience to argue with Rock head, I would've sighed and told him that around her, all that just didn't seem to matter. She had this air of absolute indifference to my previous accomplishments. It was like every moment, every minute; I had to prove to Lily Evans that I was good enough. And I would've said that I was the hottest guy in Hogwarts, and him in second place.

It was because she was perfect. Alright, so the girl had a hell of a temper. And a tongue that could sharpen steel and wit that I was often subjected to. But she was the most decent person I've ever known. I've never meant someone with such a high standard of morals. She strove to be perpetually honest and trustworthy and faithful and nonjudgmental. Her greatest charm was her refusal to stoop to the level of the blond, busty bimbos of Hogwarts. She is simply above the petty gossip and vengeful plots of teenage girls. And I admire and respect her for that.

Oh, yeah. The third and biggest reason why I'm royally screwed? I think I'm in love with my best friend. I've come to cherish the minutes I spend talking to Lily, or the minutes when we're not talking and just sitting together, in this comfortable, beautiful silence. Or when we're flying together, and her hair's whipping around wildly in the wind. Or when we're studying in the Common Room, and she's biting her lower lip in that endearingly tempting way, the fire lighting up her radiant face in a way that makes my breath catch in my throat.

And well…what if I did declare my undying love for her (okay, so that was a bit Ritaish, I apologize), and she rejected me? Then I'd not only lose any chance of having Lily, but I'd also lose one of my best mates. And I don't want that. No, it's better to watch and love from the shadows and still be her friend than to risk it all and perhaps lose it all. I'm just not willing to put so much on the line.

Why does she have to be so attractive? It's not that her breasts are particularly large, or that she's got a lot of experience (very, very, very few males qualified as worthy to date Lily Evans. The ones who didn't qualify…well, they got the message after Sirius and Remus and I talked to them). But she's got this pure, creamy, smooth shade of skin that compliments her glorious red hair. It's not that fake red, that orangey color, but a deep, dark, auburn that cascades down and brushes her shoulders in soft waves. And those eyes! The lively, vibrant, passionate green of fresh spring grass. If I had to picture her soul in a color, that'd be it. That fiery and bright jade that would put the largest emerald to shame.

"James!" A voice (THE voice) called across the Great Hall. I turned to see the object of my daydreams walking briskly towards me, strands of her hair already falling out of that restricting ponytail. She's slung her broomstick over her shoulder and is dressed in her overly large Quidditch robes. The red and gold clashes horribly, but in my eyes she's perfect. I am SO royally screwed.

"Practice begins in five minutes!" She cried once she reaches my side, obviously distraught. "Why are you still inside? I've been looking for you everywhere! Remus said you were down in the Great Hall, and Sirius had already left for the field. Do you have any idea how bad it would look for the team captain to be late to practice?"

"Sorry, Lil," I said, muffled. "I lost track of the time." Swallowing quickly, I downed a goblet of juice, wiped my mouth on my sleeve ("Ew! James, that's gross."), and picked up my broom by my side. We made our way to the field. Just as we were exiting, I heard a roar of thunder above me. Looking back over my shoulder, I noticed that the bewitched ceiling of the Great Hall had turned black with ominous, dark thunderclouds.

The weather was bloody horrible. That summed it up. I arrived just on time, Lily trailing behind me (her legs aren't quite as long), and noticed that the team had already gathered. Just as I opened my mouth to speak and explain the new moves we'd been practicing today, it thundered again. Loudly. This was followed by a torrent of rain, which pelted our skin viciously.

I tried to continue clarifying the Tennyson stratagem, which involved a delicate intertwining path of our Chasers (I wanted to stress that we needed to trust one another, because the Tennyson involved a lot of dropping the Quaffle, on purpose, to the other Gryffindor Chaser—who had to be underneath you at the exact right time for this to work). But my voice was drowned out by the storm.

"PRONGS!" Sirius shouted, getting my attention. "DON'T YOU THINK WE SHOULD CANCEL PRACTICE? THE WEATHER'S NOT COOPERATING."

"NO," I cried back, aghast at the thought of canceling practice. "WE NEED ALL THE PRACTICE WE CAN GET. WE MIGHT EVEN BE PLAYING SLYTHERIN IN THESE CONDITIONS, SO MIGHT AS WELL GET USED TO IT. BESIDES, A LITTLE BIT OF WATER NEVER HURT ANYONE!"

It thundered again, and the lightning seemed very, very close. Ana, the other Chaser on our team, gave a shriek of fear.

We mounted our brooms, and flew off into the air. After about five minutes, I was scowling. Things were not working out well. My vision capacity was so noticeably diminished (and so was everyone else's) that I could barely keep from crashing into someone or something (the trees were looking dangerous today). The broomstick wobbled against the fierce winds, and I don't think we made a single pass with the Quaffle the entire time. It was, in short, a complete catastrophe.

Finally, I gave in to the storm, and shouted, my voice already hoarse, as loud as I can. "OI! PRACTICE IS OVER! GO TAKE A SHOWER AND CHANGE OUT OF YOUR CLOTHES BEFORE YOU CATCH PNEMONIA." Seething inwardly at the failure, I stayed in the air despite the descents all around me. I needed some time to think.

There came a great cheer from the rest of my teammates and they all landed and ran, away from the rain, into the locker rooms. One person, however, stayed behind. One very pretty, very slim, very wet, very redheaded person. I flew to land beside her, scowling as the sky began to clear and the rain began to lessen. Fate hated me. Right as I decided to end practice, she decided to stop the storm.

"I'm staying with you, James," she said quietly yet firmly, a fire burning in those eyes. I averted my gaze, trying not to gape at her. Those Quidditch robes, when wet, plastered to her body something awful. Well, actually, it wasn't awful at all. I rather liked it. But I could never let her know that, could I?

"Suit yourself," I said gruffly, ruffling my hair so that it stuck up messily. "I'm just going to fly around a bit." The rain had reduced itself to a light drizzle, and I figured: if I was wet already, what was the harm in getting wetter?

We spent a few glorious minutes together, soaring around the Quidditch field in companionable silence. I closed my eyes and breathed in the scent of the fresh earth and of Lily. I turned around to see her following close behind me. She had given up on her ponytail, which even I had to admit had been looking rather messy. Attractively mussed, I preferred to think. But now…with all her red glory trailing behind her, cheeks tinged pink from the breeze, and green eyes ablaze….I don't think I've ever seen anything so damn heart wrenchingly beautiful.

I found that my chest had constricted painfully and with a tinge of regret, I started my dive to the ground. She landed beside me a little while later, and glanced upwards at my face. I am very, very, very, very screwed. We made our way back to the castle.

"James, are you alright?" She asked softly, clearly puzzled. "You've been…different for the past week or so." Yeah, I wanted to say. Because I've realized how fully screwed I am. Because I've realized how madly in love with you I am.

"Perfectly fine," my mouth answered.

She frowned slightly, and then reached over and quite arbitrarily hugged me around my middle. I felt my entire body tense up as she rested her cheek on my chest, and suddenly my nose was greeted with her smell of warm vanilla and something flowery. I closed my eyes again and inhaled. I know how cheesy this sounds, and how much Sirius would laugh, but she just felt…so…good in my arms. Hesitantly I enveloped her gently and noticed how she melted, how she fit so warmly, how perfect we were for each other. I could've stood there for an eternity, but she pulled away.

"I hope one day you'll trust me enough to tell me your problems," she said tenderly. That was when I made the mistake of looking into her eyes. Those emerald orbs made me want to do crazy things, made me feel crazy emotions that my brain was hard pressed to suppress. They were radiant, captivating, bright, glistening, and enthralling, surrounded by sparkling dark eyelashes. And they gave me the mad desire to do something very, very stupid.

"Why's your name Lily?" I asked quite suddenly.

"Because my mother named me Lily?" She said, smiling a bit.

"Well, she's a liar," I whispered harshly. Lily looked confused, so I plowed onwards. "You're not a lily."

"I'm not?"

"No," I said firmly. "Lilies are soft and pale and subdued and elegant and pretty."

"What, and I'm not elegant or pretty?" She said, and there was definitely a note of hurt to her voice. "Then what am I—clumsy and ugly?"

"No," I said in a low voice, and I stepped closer to her. "You're a rose." I stepped closer yet, and she looked uncomfortable by my nearness. It suddenly grew very, very hot in the drizzling rain.

"What do you mean?" She asked, her lips parted slightly and her eyelids hazy. Her breathing was labored as well.

"You're a rose," I repeated. "You're passionate, and fiery, and intense, and you've got thorns. You'll prick anyone who gets too close." I reached up and gently fingered a red wave before tucking it behind her ear, my fingers brushing her cheek. She shivered. "And you're so…so…so goddamn gorgeous that it hurts." My words came out in a sigh, breathy and longing. I traced my fingers delicately over her pink, tempting lips. And then I did something that pushed me past the land of 'royally screwed' to 'so incredibly screwed that it's amazing I'm still alive.'

I leaned down and brushed my lips lightly across hers. So softly, so fleeting, that it might've all just been a dream if it weren't for her small gasp of…what? Shock? Approval? It was the softest, most beautiful, bittersweet kiss I'd ever shared with a girl.

"James…?" She asked quietly, her eyes downcast and questioning.

"Just don't talk, please," I pleaded roughly. "Just let me…savor this." I put a gentle finger under her chin and tilted her face upwards. And I kissed her again, this time with all the heartbreak and rage in my soul. I knew that I had just sealed my fate, that I had probably just thrown our relationship into the sewer. But I didn't care, amazingly enough. The bud of love was bursting with flavor compared to the bland bloom of friendship.

I kissed her thoroughly, desperately, knowing this was probably my last chance to do so. Surprisingly enough, she kissed me back with equal hunger and desire, clutching herself close to me and wrapping her arms around my neck. I tentatively moved my hands down from her face to her waist, and let them stay there. Our lips crashed onto each others, my heart throbbing and aching all the while. Reluctantly, but feeling the need to breath, I pulled away again.

"Okay, you can slap me now," I said with a raw smile, ignoring the sting in my eyes. "I just…had to do that. And I'm not sorry for it."

But before I could explain my emotions and my actions, I found that my lips were on hers again. I hadn't initiated the kiss though. Oddly enough, she had pulled me to her. However, I wasn't complaining.

"I'm not either," she answered at long last, her eyes shining happily. "I've waited forever for you to do that."

And in that moment, I believe my heart burst with happiness. Screw the rain; forget the fact that we were both drenched and sweaty from our sad attempt at practice. I could care less, for I was KISSING LILY EVANS!

I think we stayed in the field for at least another fifteen minutes. It took us a while to make our way back to the castle. The entire time my heart was turning cartwheels in my chest, soaring pleasantly among the skies. And as we were walking back, hand in hand, I couldn't help but smile wryly and think to myself: I'm not quite that screwed, am I?

A/N: Review, please? Constructive criticism accepted, obnoxious flames not.