The Transfiguration Assignment

Chapter Nine

Lily honestly didn't know how she'd gotten where she was.

Presently she sat in the Three Broomsticks, clutching her butterbeer like a life preserver and trying to ignore the way Lance had his arm wrapped around her shoulders.

It had all been a mistake, agreeing to go out with Lance to Hogsmeade. She hadn't meant to say yes--she'd been distracted at the time, too busy thinking about a certain other boy's question . . . and her response . . .

She tried not to think about it now, before another mishap occurred. If she did think about it, who knew what she'd end up saying yes to next.

Instead, Lily tried to focus on the happenings in the Three Broomsticks. True, the festive atmosphere was invigorating: the pub was filled with students drinking and laughing, telling stories by the fire, trading Chocolate Frog cards at a table in the corner, boys chatting up girls by the bar. Halloween was tomorrow and everyone swapped rumors about what food would be served at the feast and what entertainment Dumbledore had booked this year. The excitement was palpable, but all Lily was aware of was how uncomfortably close Lance was sitting next to her, and how she'd rather have skipped all this and spent the day in bed.

What had possessed her to accept Lance's invitation? It was undeniable that he was cute--his golden curls and charming smile were said to have the ability to melt the heart of any girl. It wasn't like he was stupid, either. Lance was at the top of the class, in Ravenclaw, and, Lily had to admit, understood Arithmancy better than she ever hoped to. And it wasn't even that she didn't like him--he was nice in class and efficient in his Prefect duties--it wasn't that. It was just--he seemed to think this was a real date; and truthfully, Lily hadn't attempted to correct this misconception of his.

And, given the choice, Lily still would have said no to this date.

Alright, she supposed that she'd had a choice after all--it wasn't like Lance had threatened her into going--but she'd been distracted. Distracted by a certain black-haired, bespeckled Gryffindor by the name of James Potter.

And it wasn't even James' fault, really. He hadn't even been there. She'd just been too distracted by their argument to bother paying any attention to Lance; so when she realized he'd asked a question, she'd said "Sure, fine" like an idiot.

And that was how she'd ended up on this date.

Which wasn't proving to be much fun.

Unbidden, James' words seemed to echo in her ears: I think you might have some fun if you come with me. Would she? Lily wondered. Would she have more fun on a date with James?

Shaking her head, Lily took a sip of her butterbeer. What a stupid question. Going a date with James would be . . . well, different from this, anyway . . . probably worse . . .

Just then, a group entered the room bringing with them a gust of chill air and a bout of rancorous laughter. Lily glimpsed Sirius and Peter accompanied by two Hufflepuff girls, all struggling out of an assortment of cloaks and scarves near the door. Though she scanned the crowd, she found no trace of a different Marauder.

Lily didn't know if she was relieved or disappointed.

Seeing his friends had recalled James to her mind--and their conversation of the night before. No matter how Lily tried to shove it from her thoughts she couldn't stop thinking about it.

"It's a Hogsmeade weekend," he'd said. Breathlessly. As if he waited with bated breath for her answer. As if he'd really wanted her to say yes.

Words reverberated around in her head. . . . thick skull . . . childish immature crap . . . something wrong with your vision . . .

James. He had asked her to Hogsmeade and she'd turned him down. Ruthlessly. She remembered the fiery look in his eyes right before he'd uttered the damned sentence, the look that sent shivers--pleasant shivers?--down her spine and made her unable to look away. The way his gaze had roved over her face as if to memorize her. The closed off look he'd given her as he left.

"I'm not like that anymore! I was once, but I'm not now."

"I don't see a difference."

Merlin, had she actually said that? She'd been wrong; there was a difference. The past two weeks had proved that.

Lily sighed morosely. Oh, why had this happened? Why had James opened his mouth and asked her in the first place? Why couldn't things just have stayed the way they were? The Transfiguration assignment was due Monday; she and James were actually getting along, something she'd never dreamed could be possible; they laughed, planned prefect meetings, studied together . . . they even shared ink when doing homework. James had been helpful and funny and clever, he'd gotten those books from his dad, he'd put up with her stabbing him with a quill . . . Lily couldn't imagine either of them acting the same in earlier years, even the last one.

What had possessed him to ruin it all by asking her out?

Did he truly want something more? Something better?

Maybe . . . maybe she'd been wrong . . . maybe she shouldn't have yelled at him. No, she shouldn't have yelled at him, she should have calmly declined . . . or asked him why he wanted to go out with her . . . or let him convince her. Lily had a feeling James would be good at convincing her if she let him. Maybe, just maybe, she should have said yes--yes to James--just to see what would happen. After all, it couldn't hurt, could it? . . . Yes . . . A date with James . . . It was insane, she knew it was--yes to James Potter!--no doubt about it, completely unthinkable . . . but all the same . . . maybe . . .

Lily was brought abruptly back to the present by the pressure of Lance's hand on hers. She looked up at him, trying not to think that it could have been James sitting there next to her, reaching out to hold her hand if she'd said yes.

What a thought.

"I hope you don't mind that we're not at Madame Puddifoot's," Lance said.

Lily blinked. "Oh. No, this is fine. I've never even been there before." Trying to inconspicuously disengage her hand from his, Lily reached for her butterbeer bottle.

"Really?" Lance asked. "Not even on a date with someone? I thought all girls liked that place."

Lily shrugged, gulping her drink. She tried to ignore the giggles coming from the table in the corner next to theirs, giggles that sounded suspiciously like Cecily Elwell's. She tried very hard not to think about which boy was wrapped around her in the shadows, making her giggle so shrilly.

Lily crossed her legs, and as she did so, something brushed against her calf under the table. Thinking she'd accidentally nudged Lance, Lily moved her legs to the side.

"Can't wait for the first Quidditch match," Lance said good-naturedly. "Next weekend, you know. Don't really play myself: all that swerving and diving makes me nauseous to tell you the truth." He winked at her, as if that would seal her lips from mentioning his weakness to anyone. "But watching . . . ah I love a good match. Who doesn't? And it's Ravenclaw vs. Slytherin. They've got a new keeper and beaters this year. I've never seen Edwing play, but Cassman has--he's on the team, you know, Chaser--and he says Edwing only stops half the goals or less. But then, Cassman's a bit full of himself; probably counts all the goals he pitches as good, even if they're caught, just to improve his numbers, the tosser . . ."

As Lance babbled about Quidditch (something Lily was only interested in while she watched it), Lily glanced about the room, trying not to focus too obviously on the table that the Marauders occupied.

Just as she had determined that James hadn't joined them yet, she was distracted. The arm that Lance had draped across her shoulders before was now slung around her waist, and his hand was brushing up and down her side, every once in a while actually lingering on her thigh. Lily tried to shift away, but it was rather in possible while sitting next him. Lance kept on blabbing, apparently pretending he wasn't nearly feeling her up in plain view of everyone in the pub. Lily didn't quite know what to do--short of telling him to stop.

"Um, I'm out of butterbeer," she blurted quickly, leaning forward and trying to nonchalantly disengage his arm from her waist She desperately hoped he wouldn't look at her butterbeer bottle, which was only half empty.

"Then I'll go get some more butterbeer, shall I?" Lance asked, turning towards her, his face a little too close to hers.

Lily nodded weakly, and Lance bounded up and headed to the bar. Sighing sullenly, Lily looked around the room, trying to cheer herself up with the others' festivity, but all the laughter only proved to make her feel worse.

"Lily!" a voice called. Seconds later Meryl was sitting next to Lily, smiling broadly.

"I didn't know you were coming to Hogsmeade," she said, grabbing Lily's butterbeer and taking a swig.

"Well, I did," Lily said. "Who're you with?"

"Oh, Florence and Susan, you know . . ." She leaned over the side of the booth and waggled her fingers at her companions, Florence Fortescue and Susan Yewer; both girls paused in their chitchat to wave back. "Why are you sitting drinking butterbeer by yourself?" Meryl asked, taking another swig out of Lily's bottle. She repositioned herself in her seat, crossing a leg beneath her bum and sitting up higher. "I know you'd rather have tea."

"I'm not alone," Lily said. "I'm on a date."

Meryl stopped fidgeting and stared at her. "What? With who?"

Lily grabbed a handful of Bertie Botts' Every Flavor Beans that were sitting in a bowl on the table, avoiding Meryl's gaze. "Lance Albani," she said, popping some of the candy into her mouth.

"You're on a date with Lance?" Meryl cried. "Where is he?" She looked around. "I thought you said he hadn't asked you!"

"Well, he did, last night. And he's off to get drinks."

"And you didn't tell me?!"

"Sorry, it was right before curfew," Lily said around the beans in her mouth.

"So?" Meryl was exasperated. "It's not like we've never sneaked out before. Tell me everything: where you were, how he asked." She grinned, leaned in, and whispered, "Has he kissed you?"

"No!" Lily said vehemently. "He found me in the hall before curfew and walked me to the Head Common Room and asked me outside the entrance." Her eyes finally met Meryl's. "I didn't exactly intend on saying yes," she said softly. "I was thinking about something else and he asked and I sort of agreed without thinking."

Meryl leaned back, a look of disbelief on her face. "A cute Ravenclaw walks you to your room late at night and asks you out and you accidentally say yes?" She shook her head. "What could you possibly have been thinking about?"

Lily bit her lip, uncertain whether to tell her friend. But she knew she had to tell someone.

"James and I were in the library before that, last night," she said slowly, preparing herself for Meryl's reaction. "And . . . he asked me . . . to go with him. To Hogsmeade again."

"You mean for today's trip?"

Lily nodded.

Meryl gave her a knowing look. "Let me guess: you said no."

Lily nodded again, but she didn't feel any better for telling Meryl, or for thinking about what had happened in the library again.

"Yeah," she said. "I sort of . . . yelled at him." Catching Meryl's wide-eyed look, Lily went on. "He took me by surprise," she rationalized. "He hadn't asked in so long . . . I thought he'd given up. And we had been getting on so well, working on the project together . . ." Lily bit her lip. "He--he wasn't very nice about me rejecting him again."

"Well, can you blame him, Lily?" Meryl said. "Do you think that because you were finally getting along together he probably just up and figured, 'What the hell, might as well ask her again'?" She looked angry. "He likes you, Lily. How many times does he have to ask for you to believe him? Shit, the whole sodding school knows it but you."

"Why are you defending him?" Lily asked hotly, surprised that Meryl would be so adamant, though she knew deep down that she'd already come to the same conclusion that her friend had. "So I said no, so what? He'll get over it." Even to herself she didn't sound very convincing.

"Has it occurred to you that maybe he won't?" Meryl asked. "Maybe he's given up now. Maybe he wants nothing to do with you anymore. Maybe you've ruined your chances--"

"My chances?!" Lily cried. "You're acting like I wanted him to ask me--like I'd say yes--"

"Oh, come on, Lily. Like you didn't feel the tiniest bit glad when he asked you again last night? Like you didn't enjoy it?" Meryl looked at her friend incredulously, frustration evident on her face. "I don't understand how you can raise his hopes all the time and then crush them without looking back whenever you say no."

"I don't crush anything!" Lily denied. "Why are you taking his side? I'm the one he never leaves alone, not the other way around--"

"Why are you so determined to play the victim?" Meryl asked. "Lily, you probably deserved whatever he said to you last night. If I were him I'd have said it, too. How many times has he asked you out and you've said no? You probably can't even count them all. I know it might have started out as a prank or a game or teasing or whatever, but do you honestly think James Potter would pursue you like he has if he didn't really care--" Meryl broke off, snapping her mouth shut in frustration.

Lily slumped miserably, admitting defeat.

"You don't have to keep going," she said, putting her elbows on the table and propping her head in her hands. "I feel like enough of a bitch as it is." Lily sighed. "I know I'm mean," she admitted quietly. "I--I know he likes me. But last night--" She lifted her head, trying to blink away the tears that suddenly burned in her eyes. "We'd just been getting on so well. We were friends. And I was--surprised." She met Meryl's gaze. "And then Lance showed up and I wasn't even listening to what he was saying, and . . ." She sighed, wiping her nose. "I'm not having fun on this date," Lily said flatly, "so you can at least be glad to know I'm being punished."

The two girls sat for a time in silence.

"Does Lance know James asked you, too?" Meryl finally asked.

"No," Lily replied. "And I don't really want him knowing. He hates James enough as it is."

Meryl nodded, taking a sip of butterbeer. "And you're really not having a good time?"

Lily shrugged, nodding. "He's, well, he's a bit of a berk. And he keeps sitting too close to me."

"Hmmm. Well, you can always back out of it and disappear up the street with me and the girls," Meryl offered, smiling at her friend.

Lily shook her head, knowing all was forgiven. She and Meryl did this occasionally, argued over when the other was being stubborn and foolish--it just had never been about something so, well, important.

"Nah, I said yes. And it's only for a few more hours. What are you guys planning to do today, anyway?"

"Oh, go to Honeydukes. Check if they've got anything new at Gladrags; Susan's got to buy some dress robes. And maybe follow George Rastner around." Meryl grinned. "Florence fancies him."

"Who does Florence fancy?" Lance asked, appearing at the table. He slid into the opposite bench of the booth, across Lily.

"Oh, no one," Meryl said, blushing.

"Here's another butterbeer," Lance said, passing around the bottles he'd acquired. "Sorry I took so long. The line at the bar was long, and I stopped to play a round of gobstones with some mates."

Lily felt Meryl titter beside her but she refused to make any motion that could be interpreted by her friend as mirth. Yes, it was true. She was on a date with a boy who liked playing gobstones. And he thought it was okay to abandon his date for twenty minutes to play a round with his mates.

Why had she ever said yes?

Meryl stayed a bit longer as they started discussing the Halloween feast. After Lance spouted off a list of what foods he hoped would be offered, Lily brought up the entertainment rumors.

"Oh, I hope they just play the WWN," Meryl said. "Live bands are so boring. Especially anything they ever pick for school."

"What!?" Lance exclaimed, setting down his butterbeer with a loud clink. "You need to get your ears checked. Live bands are way better than the wireless."

"To some, maybe," Meryl conceded, politely. "But I always found--"

"And anyway," Lance interrupted, "the WWN only ever plays old stuff and gag-me love songs by Celestina Warbeck. Crap my mum listens to."

"I happen to like Celestina Warbeck," Meryl said stiffly. "And the WWN plays more than--"

"Well, to each his own, I say," Lance said, grinning broadly at Lily.

During this exchange, as Lily grew more and more indignant on behalf of her friend and more and more impatient with her date, who was proving to be extremely rude and not only a berk but a prat as well. Lily was aware of something that kept brushing her leg under the table. At first she thought she'd accidently kicked Meryl, then that a supporting bar of the table ran along beneath it. It was after she'd recrossed and repositioned her legs for the sixth time that Lily realized Lance was attempting to play footsie with her.

Lily abruptly stood up, startling both of her companions. At their inquiring looks she said, "Sorry, gotta use the loo," and sped from the table.

Returning from the bathroom a few minutes later, where she'd spent most of the time staring in the mirror and reassuring herself she'd only have to spend a few more hours in Lance's company, Lily found Lance waiting for her alone, finishing off his bottle of butterbeer.

"Meryl said she had to split," he said simply.

Lily nodded understandingly. If she'd been Meryl, she would have left, too. "Um, well, I need to go to Scrivenshaft's anyway," she said, heading towards the door.

Lily didn't know how he'd managed it, but Lance had somehow ended up capturing her hand as they walked. She wondered if James would be this touchy-feely if she'd said yes to him. She suddenly wished that the quill and ink shop was closer to the Three Broomsticks. Walking down the lane of Hogsmeade holding Lance Albani's hand was not something she'd anticipated--or wanted in the least.

However, sucking it up and reminding herself firmly that she was the one who'd gotten herself into this mess and probably deserved the misery after what she'd put James through for so long, Lily didn't attempt to extract her hand from Lance's clammy grip, though she certainly thought about it.

Soon they were within sight of the shop and Lily widened her strides, the sooner to have her hand back to herself.

Lance, who had been relatively quiet for the walk seemed to finally realize where they were headed.

"Scrivenshaft's?" he asked. "What do you need there?"

What a stupid question, Lily thought as they reached the door. He obviously knew the answer.

Scrivenshaft's was a quaint little shop stocked from floor to ceiling with every sort of quill, parchment, and ink imaginable. There were quills from seemingly every bird--from owl, hawk, and goose to swan, flamingo, and ostrich. There was even a few alarmingly large peacock feathers arranged artfully in one corner; one was the size of Lily's leg--it would have been murder to write with. Boxes and boxes of parchment were on display as well, lining the far wall and giving the shop the same quiet, pleasantly musty smell that is often found in old book shops.

Lily headed directly to the ink section, determined to grab the first ink bottle she came across, the sooner to be out of there and on her way back to the school.

"What do you need?" Lance asked again, following her inside and stopping next to her shoulder, again a little too close for comfort. Almost breathing down her neck. No doubt he thought it showed affection for her or gave him excuses to brush up against her (which he kept doing as he shifted to get a better look at a quill on display above her head), but Lily just felt annoyed. Was personal space too much to ask for?

"Some ink," Lily said, seizing a bottle of ink and heading to the cashier, peeved that she had to wait in the queue--a witch with her three small children were talking to the clerk and apparently buying half the shop, if all the rolls of parchment, quills, and bottles of ink on the counter were anything to go by.

"Oh, yeah. Potter smashed your last one."

Lily frowned. "He didn't. I dropped it," she replied, watching as the mother haggled over prices with the clerk and didn't notice that one of her children was happily unscrewing a bottle of ink.

Lance let out a snort. "Lily." He gave her a condescending smile. "You don't have to say that for my benefit. I know he did it. It's just what he does--pulling pranks on unsuspecting people. I bet you had to spend all night rewriting those notes that got ruined."

"You can't be sure it was him," Lily replied. "The classroom was full and rowdy."

"Someone bumped you."

"It was an accident," Lily insisted.

"I guess we'll never know." Lance slipped his arm around her waist and pressed her into his side. "He sure was quick to offer his help when you spilled it, though."

Lily had to bite her tongue not to retort that Lance had also been very quick to offer his help when she'd spilled her ink in Transfiguration.

"I can't imagine having Potter for a partner for the Transfiguration assignment," Lance went on. He shook his head in sorrow at her imagined predicament. "He's so thick he probably couldn't even--"

"Actually James is a bit of a prodigy when it comes to Transfiguration," Lily replied.

Lance waved his hand as if pushing the comment aside. "I know everyone says that, but really, who's ever seen anything brilliant? I mean, he does get top marks, but that's just because he cheats off his friends."

Lily was stunned by how obnoxious he was being. "I happen to know that James got O's in every subject but History of Magic on his O.W.L.s." she said.

Lance shrugged. "I still don't know how you survived being his partner," he said. "I wouldn't have been able to stand him procrastinating and making me do all the work. Or even the sight of his face every time we'd have to meet . . ."

Lily didn't bother to try again and correct his deep-rooted misconception that James was a bad partner--perhaps she'd felt the same at the beginning of the assignment, but James had proven just how insightful and hard working he could be as the due date approached.

"And I thought I had it bad . . ."

Lily looked quickly at Lance, her brow furrowing. "I thought you were partners with Susan Yewer."

Lance nodded, rolling his eyes. "Yeah. Well, suffice it to say that Yewer wasn't exactly what I'd had in mind . . ."

Pulling away from him slightly, Lily turned to face him, ignoring how one of the children at the cashier had stabbed himself with a quill and was screaming quite loudly, another was happily sucking on a feather quill, and the last one was busy finger-painting his mother's robes with ink. "What's wrong with Susan?"

"Nothing," Lance said. He shrugged. "Just that, you know, she's not the brightest fairylight in the lantern. I don't know how she got the grades to get into NEWT level Transfiguration--or why I was partnered with her."

"Susan's smart," Lily protested. "She's got the top grade in Muggle Studies--"

"Well, Muggle Studies is hardly Transfiguration, is it?" Lance scoffed. "Muggles are easy enough, but the complexities of the top forms of magic like Transfiguration will never be mastered by Muggleborns. 'Specially those who'd rather take the time to study their own culture than the Magical world."

Lily stepped up to the cashier in a daze, hardly seeing the witch and her children leave the shop, or the clerk ring up her bottle of ink.

"I'm Muggleborn," she said, ignoring the inquiring look the clerk gave her.

"Oh, I know," Lance said quickly. "But you're not like Yewer. You know how our world works. You don't--"

"Susan is my friend," Lily bit out, snatching her ink bottle and heading to the door.

Lance quickly caught up and grabbed her hand again. Lily seriously thought about shaking him off.

"I'm sure she's great, really. But she's nothing like you, you've got to admit. And she and I just don't get along. She had some daft idea about the assignment, too. I mean, I basically had to do it all myself. She didn't know what she was doing . . ."

Lily really wished Lance would shut up. She couldn't believe she'd said yes to him. She couldn't believe she'd sat next to him in Transfiguration for four years and not known his views on Muggleborns. She couldn't believe he was insulting her friend, Susan Yewer, fellow Gryffindor, without realizing what an ass he was being.

This was the worst date she'd ever been on.

And he was still going! Lance didn't even realize that anything was wrong.

". . . so I wrote it instead." He seemed to be finishing up describing what he and Susan--or, basically, he by himself--had done for the Transfiguration assignment. "So, what did you and Potter pick?" Lance let out a chuckle. "I hope you didn't do Vanishing spells like Cecily and Rastner. I doubt McGonagall would view that as worthy of an O. Please tell me you didn't do Vanishing spells, Lily, please."

Lance seemed to think he was being charming and funny and flirty. Lily was in no way charmed or laughing or impressed.

"Actually, we did Animagi," she said.

Lance let out a laugh, obviously thinking she was joking.

Lily stopped walking and stared at him.

"Animagi!" he let out, guffawing. "No, seriously, what did you do? I'm sure Prodigy Potter came up with something better than that! Really, tell me, what did you do?"

"We did Animagi," Lily repeated coldly.

It took a second for Lance to accept that she was being entirely serious. The grin dropped from his handsome face and his mouth dropped open in disbelief. Lily rather thought he looked like a fish. Disgusted, she started walking on the path that led from the village back to Hogwarts, too pent up with energy to ride a carriage back. She'd entered a wood, and was just congratulating herself on leaving Lance behind (which had to be the smartest thing she'd done all day) when she heard a voice calling her name.

"Lily! Lily! Wait up!"

Groaning, Lily continued walking, hoping he'd leave her alone.

"Hey," Lance panted, catching up to her. "Didn't you hear me calling?"

Lily only shrugged.

"Sorry--hey, sorry I laughed," Lance said, obviously and arrogantly assuming forgiveness would be granted immediately. "I didn't think you were serious. I mean, we learned about Animagi in third year."

"Yeah, well, it's a lot more complicated than it sounds," Lily said shortly, still refusing to look at him.

"Yeah . . ." Lily could tell Lance didn't believe her. "Sorry Potter made you do such a lousy subject. It's pretty stupid of him to pick something so easy--it's so obvious. He's such an arsehole." He sighed in sympathy.

"Actually, we decided on the topic together," Lily said through gritted teeth.

Lance looked at her in disbelief. "Oh, come on now, Lily. You don't have to lie to me. Potter's always taken the easy, immature road. I'm actually not that surprised he made you do Animagi. It's just like him--pick something that's really easy and suck up to McGonagall at the same time." Lance's face took on a sneer. "Really, I don't know what anyone sees in him. He's a poncey arsehole who lets others do the work for him and lords his power over everyone so he can go hang out with his stupid friends. I don't know why Dumbledore ever picked him to be Head Boy; he doesn't have any redeeming personality traits or top marks. He's obviously not suited to it--"

"What? And you think you are?" Lily interrupted. She was fuming, both angry at Lance for saying such despicable things about James and also at herself for thinking the same thing not that long ago.

Lance looked surprised at being cut off--and at what she'd said.

"Well, yeah," he responded, as though the answer was obvious. "I'd be a much better Head Boy than Potter. He doesn't know anything about planning events or controlling prefect meetings or leading students. All he does is sit in the back of the classroom and mess around with his Marauders." The name of the group seemed to leave a funny taste in his mouth if the look on Lance's face was anything to go by. "He wasn't even a prefect before he was named Head Boy. I still think it's a prank he pulled before school started."

Lily stared at him, dumbfounded. "You don't think Dumbledore or McGonagall or even Slughorn would have corrected that by now?"

Lance shrugged. "They probably thought it was funny. Dumbledore likes that cheeky bit of humor--though I don't know why. I always thought Potter was asking for it." Lance paused and gave her a sideways glance. "At least I have one thing he doesn't have."

He appeared to be waiting for a response.

"What do you have that he doesn't have?" Lily asked, inwardly rolling her eyes, though his next answer made her stop cold.

"You."

"What?" Lily turned to him in shock, hoping she'd imagined it.

"I've got you and Potter doesn't," he explained calmly. Grinning, Lance hooked his arm around her waist. "The one girl who's never said yes to him."

What a stupid reason to want someone, Lily thought. He wanted her just because James did? Lily was trying to decide is she ought to act offended when suddenly Lance was leaning in, his eyes closed, his lips aimed for hers. Lily reacted without thinking.

"Lance!" she cried, dodging his face. "Stop it!" She pulled free and sprang back a few steps from him, heart pounding.

Merlin! This was totally unexpected. And totally unwelcome. What was he thinking? Had he thought that that was a moment? It was the most unromantic time to ever initiate a kiss--telling her his motive for going out with her was due to his petty jealousy of James. Did he think she would feel flattered? What an idiot.

Lance looked incredulous at her response. "What?"

Lily took a breath, deciding to ignore what had just happened, and tried walking past him, but he blocked her path.

"Lily, wait a minute--"

"Let's just go back to school," she said quickly, wanting to avoid confrontation. Lily tried to get past him again, but he merely matched her steps, refusing to let her pass.

"Lily, I was going to kiss you," he said.

"Well, yes, I know that," she snapped. Did he think she was stupid? "Obviously I didn't want to be kissed."

Lance looked as though the idea of someone not wanting to be kissed by him was a revolutionary idea. "Why not?" He took a step forward. Lily took one back. "Lily, we're on a date."

"Yes, well, I'm not really having a good time." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

"What?"

Lily closed her eyes and sighed. Maybe it would just be better to admit the truth now. "I'm sorry, Lance," she apologized. "I never should have said yes to you." She actually felt amazingly better after that admission. Lily felt heartened by the fact that her date with Lance was now over and she was free to go back to the castle . . . and she hadn't seen James at the Three Broomsticks . . . maybe she'd be able to find him in the school.

"What are you talking about? We've been having a fine time!" Lance protested. Lily was brought abruptly back to the present when he brought his hands to her elbows and pulled her roughly against his chest. "And it would get better if you'd let me kiss you."

This was not the way Lily had expected him to react. And it certainly wasn't a pleasant surprise, either. Lance was manhandling her with mindless intent, oblivious to her objections. Why wouldn't he stop? Did he just want to brag around that he'd gotten a kiss from Lily Evans before James did? Why wouldn't he let her go?

"Stop," Lily protested, struggling to get away. But Lance had maneuvered her back against a tree and had his arm clasped around her waist tightly. Lily tried to push him away but he wouldn't budge. "Lance, stop it!"

"Just one kiss, Lily," he said, trying to still her struggling arms. He gave a smirk. "We're on a date, after all."

"What is wrong with you?!" she cried, turning her face away from his approaching lips. "Let go of me! I said no!"

"Wake up, Lily!" Lance said angrily, pushing her harder against the tree. "You can't say no to every boy who asks you. You've got to say yes sometime." Lily tried to protest but he simply talked on top of her. "We're perfectly suited, Lily," he explained. "If I was Head Boy now we'd have gotten together a long time ago. Stop fighting it."

Lily tried to grab her wand from her pocket but Lance had already pinned her arms to the tree.

She squeezed her eyes shut as he leaned in. Then she felt his lips touch hers.