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“Careful where you're standing, Evans.”
Lily looks up; a sprig of mistletoe is hanging a couple of feet over her head from the nail supporting the painting behind her.
“Oh, thanks,” she says and takes a big step to the left.
James Potter only smirks in response and leaves, his gaze hanging towards her over his shoulder just a little longer than necessary.
She doesn't know why he keeps on pointing out the mistletoe above her every single time, while remaining blatantly oblivious to all the other girls who rush to squeeze under a piece of it whenever he's around.
Well, she does, but she likes to pretend she doesn't.
He's right in that she has to be more careful about where she stands, though. Just the other day she had been caught under the mistletoe by that idiot, Bernie Stebbins, who had spent almost ten minutes trying to convince her that she had to let him kiss her, because it would be bad luck if she didn't and terrible fates would befall both of them. In the end, he had indeed met his terrible fate in the face of Sirius Black, who had rescued her by casting a Full Body-Bind Curse on him behind his back. It was the first time Lily had ever been thankful for her classmate's aggressive tendencies, and she had expressed that by actually thanking him out loud. He had responded with a salute and a surprisingly gallant “It was my duty” and had left the scene, leaving Stebbins on the floor, looking perplexed in his immobility.
She resolves to look out for that nasty plant from now on, although she barely ever has the chance to even glance over her head before someone else spots it first and approaches her with leery looks, graceless requests, or, in James Potter’s case, poorly-hidden amusement at her continued misfortune.
“I'm ready,” her friend Marlene speaks up, having finally returned from the bathroom. “Let's go.”
**
A group of Ravenclaw boys walk by Lily and Marlene; they are elbowing each other and laughing, their interested gazes hovering between Lily and the chandelier over her head.
“Don't even think about it,” Lily yells, shaking a warning finger at them.
“I swear, you're doing it on purpose,” Marlene says, with a look at the mistletoe hanging from the chandelier.
“Of course not,” Lily replies, disgusted, and moves away from the offending sprig.
Later that day, they see those same boys drenched in a thick, yellow liquid that Lily recognises as the content of the new Zonko's Oozeballs, while James Potter and his friends are standing a few feet away from them, laughing their hearts out. Lily can't help but wonder whether the two incidents are related.
**
James Potter passes her by, walking a little too close for her comfort and throwing her a mischievous look, but continues his way without delay and without a word.
Lily looks up, and sure enough, there's another piece of mistletoe, this time hanging from the wall lamp above her.
“Why is there so much bloody mistletoe everywhere!” she explodes, tearing the mistletoe off the lamp with one hand.
“Because it's Christmas,” Marlene answers simply. “Don't ruin the décor.”
**
Just the day before they leave the school for Christmas break, Lily witnesses an interesting scene upon entering a corridor.
James Potter is standing by a window, wistfully looking outside at the snow falling. He is approached by a pretty, brown-haired girl. Lily knows her; she's a fifth-year Gryffindor.
“Hi, James,” the girl says, a little timidly.
“Oh, hi.” He turns his attention to her.
“You're standing under the mistletoe.” She points at the window frame over him.
“Oh.”
“Does that mean I can get a kiss?”
“I'm pretty sure it's boys supposed to be asking the girls and not the other way around.” He flashes her a big smile, which Lily understands is supposed to do away with the awkwardness of his implied refusal.
“Oh.” Her exclamation reveals contained disappointment. She probably expected as much. “All right.”
She leaves, shoulders slumped, her pace slow.
“Is that true?” Lily asks, approaching him.
He looks up at her and shrugs. “That's how I've always heard it.”
“So if I asked you for a kiss under the mistletoe, you'd say no?”
“If you asked me for a kiss, my answer would not be affected by the presence of mistletoe.”
He's smooth; she gives him that. “But my question would be.”
“Would it?”
He looks at her with a raised eyebrow and a sideways smirk, and suddenly she feels her cheeks heat up and her voice get caught in her throat.
Thankfully, he continues without waiting for her to reply. “You never struck me as the type to let a measly plant dictate what you do.”
“That's why I'm not asking.”
“What if I move?” He steps unexpectedly forward, towards her; the proximity sends a heatwave coursing through her body. “Will you ask now?”
“I thought it was boys supposed to be asking the girls and not the other way around.”
The hint of a smirk edges across his mouth; cornered by his own words, and yet he doesn’t seem to mind. “Right.” His eyes stay focused on her as his teeth gently run over his lower lip once, leaving his mouth half-open. He's still an arm's distance away, his breath too far to reach her and yet Lily can feel its warmth on her.
"So I guess the question is, will you ask?" she dares.
One side of his mouth curls upwards again. "If you have to ask, she doesn't want you to kiss her."
"I don't know about that," she says, wearing her best expression of nonchalance. "I've seen a lot of girls lining up and waiting for you to ask."
He takes a step closer; Lily should be wanting to step back, but for some reason, she doesn’t.
“I know there are girls who want me to kiss them,” he says, voice dropping low along with his gaze, which has now landed on her lips. “But I will only kiss the girl I want to kiss, and only when she wants me to. Not a second sooner.”
Lily stands up straighter and looks up at him, urging his eyes back to hers. “With or without mistletoe?”
“Either way.”
She nods once, then swallows deliberately before she speaks; and she catches his eyes following the line of her throat as she does.
“Good for you,” she says, with a smirk that could rival his best ones; his eyes snap back to hers, and he may just have caught the wink she gives him as she turns away and leaves.
**
“You're doing it again, Evans.”
She is standing right under a wall lamp decorated with mistletoe, and she's very well aware of it. “Well, would you look at that.”
She makes no effort to move away. James Potter approaches her, his expression determined, and she still stays there, maybe pressing her back harder against the wall, but definitely not avoiding him.
He stops before her and stares into her eyes. She stares back bravely.
He slowly leans in, taking a ragged breath through parted lips; they’re too close now, not enough air between them. She tilts her head slightly upwards, looking at his mouth as though she’s seeking to steal that breath back from him; he inches closer still, and their lips almost touch.
“Merry Christmas,” he speaks softly against her mouth, just barely making contact before he takes one step back and, with a roguish half-smile at her, heads out of the common room.
Lily falls back against the wall, heavy and breathless, and licks her lips.
Maybe after they're back from the holidays she'll have to see what happens without mistletoe.