A/N: I figured out a while ago that the best way to cure writer's block is to write! This was one of the things I started writing to stave off the block, and I sorta/kinda liked it when I finished it (today), so I figured I might as well post it. Sorry if you think it sucks. I won't be offended if you don't like it, because, honestly, I'm not too thrilled with it either. So here you are. R&R.

Disclaimer: All the characters you recognize belong to the insanely talented J.K. Rowling, and, no matter how hard I wish, I am not her. :(

Questions and Answers

I like to believe that every question one could possible dream up has an answer. However, one person proves this theory of mine very wrong.

I can tell you the ten most useful ingredients in potions, their uses and properties, most famous achievements, and the potions that include them. If you want to know every soundproofing charm under the sun and how to perform it, I'm your girl. So, why, pray tell, can't I seem to answer even my own questions about a certain James Potter?

About the only thing I can tell you about him, is that I hate his guts, and he is a self-centered, pompous, toe-rag with an over-sized head and no regard for the rules whatsoever. But that's being nice. I couldn't also add that he hexes random people in the halls for no reason, he bullies first years, eats like a starved horse, and flirts with anything that breathes and wears a skirt. Actually, that happens to be precisely what he did to inspire this little rant.

"Good afternoon, Evans," he greeted me, wearing that signature arrogant smirk of his. "Want to go out with me?" That makes the seventh time he has asked me out in one day. That may actually be a record low.

"Let me spell something out for you, Potter," I said, spinning around to face him. Explaining anything to that berk is like trying to teach a 4 year old how to translate Ancient Runes. Might as well take the same approach. "I don't like you," I continued, speaking very slowly and gesturing wildly with my hands, trying to make this clearer for him. "I hate you. I would throw a party when you die. That's not good."

When he cringed, I suddenly remembered that Voldemort himself had killed his parents, well-known Aurors, just a few months back. Crap. I swore loudly, and started muttering apologies.

"It's okay, Lily," James said, breathing a bit heavier than usual. His eyes slipped closed and his hand unconsciously moved to my arm. Not wishing to be insensitive, I tried to deftly maneuver out of his grasp. Unfortunately, he noticed my squirming, and his hand dropped like he had been hit by a body-binding curse, but as he opened his eyes, anger glinted within them, and his face turned cold. "Is that all you can think about right now? Getting away from me? Bloody hell, Lily, if you think my presence is torture, you should try having my life!"

I flinched back from the contempt in his rough voice, and decided it would be best to try to comfort him. "I'm sorry…James. I have this awful habit of letting my mouth run without thinking through what I am about to say…" Realizing I had started rambling, I let the sentence trail off. We stood there for a few minutes in an awkward silence, before I noticed where we were standing.

After giving the portrait the password, we entered the Head common room. A bright bouquet of flowers caught my eye, and I sauntered over to the table where they sat.

Next to the vase of roses was a little unsigned note from the sender. It read: For every time you take my breath away each and every day.

I smiled to myself as I inhaled the heavenly scent of the multi-colored roses. "How sweet. I wonder who sent them?" I mused aloud. James cleared his throat behind me.

"Er, me," he announced sheepishly, scratching at his neck, and turning a bright shade of red.

I stared at him blankly; then realization struck me, and I dropped the beautiful vase. "Ugh!" I groaned, but the sound of shattering crystal mostly drowned out the noise. James still heard.

"'Ugh'? Just a minute ago you were saying how sweet it was!" James exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. I tried to ignore the hurt written across his face—he was probably just feigning it anyway.

"That's before I found out who they were from. They're probably covered in Amortentia," I muttered cynically, though on the inside, I was pleasantly surprise that he would do such a thing for me.

"Damn it, Lily!" James shouted, and I heard another crash that definitely wasn't the glass. When I look up, I saw a chair overturned and papers strewn across the room. I deduced that he must have kicked or thrown the chair. For the first time, I was glad that James and I were alone in a room we had all to ourselves.

Abandoning my efforts to clean up the broken vase, I turned to face him, and folded my arms over my chest. "Excuse me?"

My sharp eyes took in his defensive stance—hands clenched, jaw set, and eyes blazing. "You can't honestly think that I ask you out over and over for no reason. Or do you thing that it's just some sort of game to me? Just a bit of information for you," he went on in a scathing tone, "but it actually hurts to love someone who hates you in return. You can even ask Sirius. Actually, he's pretty put out with you because he's the one who has to pick up the pieces whenever you reject me." My eyes widened at that, and I was unable to keep up the steady glare. James laughed bitterly and continued with barely a pause. "There. I said. I love you."

I opened my mouth several times before I found the right words to say. "Excuse me?" I asked for the second time in less than five minutes.

James didn't answer; he just stood there, mirroring my posture. "Go ahead," he allowed, waving a hand in front of him. "Tell me you'd rather date the Giant Squid. Or maybe this time you will use the 'Hell hasn't frozen over yet, Potter' line."

I didn't know why, but at that moment, I felt a ripping tear apart my chest and leave it gaping open. Then something clicked. This was how it felt to get your heart broken.

Thinking that maybe, just maybe, this situation can still be salvaged, I did the first thing that came to mind. "You know, I really do love the roses," I whispered before standing up on my tiptoes and pressing my lips to his.

I learned a few things that day: one, I, Lily Evans, loved James Potter with every fiber of my being, and lying to myself did no good at all. Two, all question don't need answers, and sometimes it's better that way. Why do I love this arrogant, big-headed prat? I don't have a clue, but I do know that it feels so damn good.

A/N: Like I said, kind of pointless and random. It's basically just Lily's rambling. Anywho, I don't care if you review this one or not. But if you don't mind, I would like to hear what you all think. Thanks! Toodles.

~Livelier~

P.S. I'm going to post another two chapters of With You today as well.