Lightning

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it isn't mine.

He sat there, under his tree, probably knowing that people were looking at him. Perfectly confident, not a care in the world could trouble him. Not the girls staring at him, laughing to each other. Not the guys, glancing over at him nervously every once in a while, wondering, waiting for him to swoop in and steal their girls. Their glances didn't bother him, didn't catch his attention.

But I did. He'd look up from the grass, come out of his temporary wonderland for me, if I walked by him. I knew that for sure. To bug me? Perhaps. To embarrass me? Maybe. To put on an entertaining show for the rest of the students? Probably. To love me, though? No, certainly not.

Why me, though? He couldn't pick someone else to annoy, to make a fool out of? I knew that I wasn't the only one looking stupid when he decided to sing to me or cast some cheesy spell to recite different romance poems throughout the day. No, it wasn't just me people whispered about. They talked about him all the time.

I sat for a while, watching him from the window. It was a nice feeling, a safe feeling, knowing that I could see him but he couldn't see me. Also a quite stalkerish feeling. I had nothing better to do with my day, though, and apparently neither did he. I watched him for hours, and not once did that boy get up from his spot underneath that tree, and his eyes never strayed from that one patch of grass. After a while, though, I had the feeling he knew I was watching him…knew I was up in the common room, wasting a day that could be full of homework, of reading and accomplishing something.

It was almost dark by the time the clouds made their appearance, casting shadows over the castle and its grounds. And minutes later, rain, lightning, thunder…darkness. The few people who had stayed out after supper ran inside at the first sign of precipitation, the sound of their squeals floating up to me. He didn't move, though. He glanced up at me for the first time, a slight trace of a smirk clouding his face. So, he did know.

The rain was coming hard, hammering on the lake, upsetting the gardens, but he didn't budge. Lightning struck dangerously close, and I let out a gasp. He was being reckless and stupid, and I didn't have any idea why I cared. There was no doubt that I did care, though. My heart pounded in fear and my eyes were wide as I watched him sit there calmly, his clothes beginning to cling to his frame as they grew soaked. I sighed in frustration, glaring at him even though he wasn't looking at me. It was annoying, really, to care so much and not want to.

I turned on my heel, tearing my eyes away from the window and skipping steps as I sped down the stairs. As I scurried through the portrait hole and jogged to the staircase, I was only vaguely aware that I was muttering under my breath, and that people were looking at me quite oddly.

It didn't take me long to get outside, but once I was out of the shelter of the castle, the wind and the rain slowed me down.

"Potter!" I called to him as I walked up to his beloved tree.

"Good evening, Lily," he replied calmly, turning his gaze to my very wet face and my sopping hair.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing out here?" I squinted down at him, trying to get a clear view of his face through the mat of rain and hair that shielded me.

"Sitting. Waiting for you, actually. Took you long enough, eh?" he chuckled, resting his head against the tree and grinning lazily up at me. His cheeks were flushed pink from the cold, and his hair stuck out in the most unnatural of directions. His shirt was plastered to his chest, revealing a few quite defined muscles.

He patted the ground next to him. "Sit," he suggested. I looked up at the clouds warily, not really wanting to be struck by lightning but becoming colder by the second as drops of cold rain pelted me from all directions. "Relax, Evans. Do you think I want to die? There's a charm around the tree," he soothed, scooting over a bit to give me more room. I hesitated, wondering if he was lying and then deciding it didn't matter. I sat down next to him, closer than I would have, had I not been so unbearably cold.

My fingers twisted in the damp grass as we sat in silence for a few moments. It was a peaceful silence, a welcome silence. It was also an extremely rare silence when it came to the two of us. "Have you had a good day, Lily?" he asked me finally, politely. I looked over at him, surprised that he hadn't said anything stupid or arrogant.

I nodded. "You?" I asked finally, my voice coming out quieter, weaker than I had expected it to. More vulnerable than I had intended it to.

He nodded thoughtfully, and we fell into silence again, both of us just watching the rain. "I'm not sure you get it, Lily," he finally whispered, unexpected sadness laced into his voice as he turned his hazel eyes on me.

"What?" I asked, astonished and confused.

"I used to think you just weren't interested, didn't like me for whatever reason. I figured you'd come around eventually, if I could just show you who I really was. But I know now. You're interested, Lily Evans, and you know it. I just don't think you get it," he emphasized, his expression frustrated and pondering. He was still staring at me, and I felt my face become very hot.

"Get what?" I asked, still confused, though I had an idea of what he was talking about.

"I love you, Lily. Love you. I've said it enough, and you're a smart girl…I'm quite surprised you still don't get it." He was smiling at me, the rain still assaulting his face and his hair. He looked breathtaking. There was no other word for it.

I didn't know what to say. Had no idea. I stared at him, wide-eyed, my heart pounding, and I knew, then, why I had cared so much about whether or not the lightning got to him. I loved him. A lot. And I was surprised at myself at the time, disappointed, even. James Potter? Honestly.

"Could you say something, please, Lily?" he requested, his voice soft and his eyes vulnerable.

"Mmm…I'm not sure what to say," I confessed. He laughed at me, trying to act cool, in control. I could tell he was nervous. Terrified. So was I.

He inched closer to me, his eyes locked on mine. His expression was solemn, serious, but anticipation was clear in his eyes. He brushed my wet hair away from my eyes, then held my face in his hands, not allowing me to move. "Do you love me, Lily?" he whispered as the rain trickled down his face and off his chin.

I nodded, feeling very small and insignificant as I stared up at this mask of perfection, this glorious, wet boy smiling down at me, pinning me to a tree.

"Say it, then," he demanded, his eyes wide as he leaned just a bit closer to me. "Please."

"I love you," I whispered.

His answering smile was magnificent and rare; it wasn't an arrogant or fake or camera smile, and it wasn't one of those half-smiles, the reassuring, 'Yeah, I'm okay, stop worrying about me,' smiles. Nope. This was a real, genuine smile, and it was huge, and it was so charmingly crooked I couldn't help but press my mouth to it.

James jumped back a bit at first, startled by my random pouncing, but it only took him a couple of moments to realize what was happening and return my kiss with more pent-up passion than I expected. One of his hands moved immediately to my hair, tugging me closer to him, while the other rested at my waist. I pulled away after just a moment, surprised at the emotion he had shown, surprised that I had even kissed him in the first place.

We sat there, staring at each other, catching our breaths for what seemed like hours. "Lily," he whispered finally, smiling just slightly.

I stood up, not sure what else to do. I had just kissed James Potter. James Potter. Kissed him. He stood too, a concerned look overcoming the smile. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I replied quickly, feeling guilty. "Nothing, I just can't believe I did that…I'm sorry…" I trailed off, embarrassed, waiting for him to laugh at me and walk away.

"Lily," he chuckled, taking a step toward me and grabbing my hand, pulling it to his chest. I stared up at him blankly. "Are you joking?" His voice was heavily stained with disbelief. "I love you. You kissed me. What's there to be sorry for?" His voice was calm and quiet against the steady backdrop of the rain, but his eyes were what reassured me.

"Okay," I whispered lamely in reply. He stared at me expectantly still, looking straight into my eyes. I laughed lightly at how horribly cliché it all was: standing in the rain, looking into each other's eyes, finally knowing that, after all this time, we've been in love.

And don't we all know what comes next?

He laughed, too, and then he leaned in and kissed me in the rain.

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