Hi, everyone. So here's the prologue to this fanfic. Hope you enjoy it! Now for the disclaimer:
Disclaimer: The wonderful, uber-awesome, highly-talented Ms. J.K. Rowling owns everything that you recognize.
And moving on to the actual story:
o.o
Prologue
Him and Her
"No."
Funny how one word can make such a difference. The moment that single word left her glossy lips he knew he had been trapped. It was unbelievable, unthinkable, incomprehensible that a girl had actually refused Quidditch star James Potter. His friends couldn't understand it at first; James had been giving all the usual signals. This one just hadn't taken the bait. It was strange and for some reason, to James, somewhat dazzling.
Maybe it was the competitive streak in James. There were very few real challenges in his life. He had grown up pureblood, knowing that Hogwarts letter would arrive the summer of his eleventh birthday, school was a joke really, he passed without really trying, and Quidditch? He was a natural. It was because of all this that he found girls clamoring for his attentions. His Seeker skills and Marauder status gave him something that other boys wished for. So where was the challenge in his life?
It was her hair that had first caught his attention. It was long, straight, and the color of burnt copper, shiny and flowing, as though always caught in a wind. He had to admit that he had only noticed her in the halls that one time, and he had only seen her from the back, and he had only had one thing in mind when he surged forward on a whim and asked the lucky girl out. But, unbelievably, unthinkably, incomprehensibly she had refused him. And by doing so, she had insured that James Potter would forevermore go after Lily Evans.
o.o
"No."
Funny how one word can make such a difference. From the moment that single word left her glossy lips Lily Evans was vaulted to a pedestal. Every other girl in the entire school was in awe. Many took to whispering loudly as she passed in the halls. For weeks Lily couldn't get from Charms to Transfiguration without hearing at least one not-so-subtle comment: "What kind of weirdo refuses a man like James Potter?" For the most part, though, people didn't know what to make of her.
She had to admit that there had been that one time, that one split-second in which she might have said yes. The first Quidditch game of second year; he had just made Seeker and it was the first time Lily had seen him on a broom. She had watched him the entire game, not knowing the score until he caught the Snitch and the Gryffindors all around her broke into wild cheers. She had loved the curve of his back as he accelerated on his broom, the easy way he wove in and out as though bored, the way he bit his lower lip when the Snitch was in sight, the way his hair ruffled in the wind. And as he landed with a wide grin breaking across his face, she had, for that split-second, willed James Potter to notice her.
But, and there is always a but, the next day she had seen him nicking a Snitch. She had seen him ruffling his hair at every other moment, prancing about the school like some sort of celebrity. She had seen him laughing over a first year that had tripped in the hall. As the years went by she saw him snogging three girls a day andseen each crying by the end of the week. By the end of that day he had lost that glossy sheen for her and she was not pleased with what was beneath. Because Lily Evans would never be just another screw in a closet, another kiss in the hall, another notch on a belt. No, never.