"The day I willingly agree to date you, James Potter, I will skinny dip in the lake with the Giant Squid." Lily Evans shouted that into his ear on the last day of school. It was a kind of rejection he should be used to, if you looked at it statistically.

James Potter asked Lily Evans out about once a day during the school week and twice each weekend day. Average that out with about 10 months at school which leads to 200 weekday rejections and 160 weekend rejections, a grand total of 360 rejections. And that was in one year. If he tallied it up for all the times he'd asked her out starting from their fourth year together, it ran close to 1080 rejections. One thousand and eighty times he heard the word "no". Of course there were variations. James was certain Lily had begun to make a list of ways to reject him without saying "no". It would've been quite amusing but for the fact that he was in love with her.

Lily Evans would be the death of him, he thought to himself decidedly, whether he would die because of unreciprocated love or the plain psychosis of his mind it didn't matter. She would ultimately kill him.

James mussed his hair absentmindedly, rolling his eyes as he sat upon the comfortable maroon colored couch his mother had bought for him upon his admittance into Gryffindor House. His entire room had been converted into a Gryffindor adoration chapel, with its walls painted a warm gold and the Gryffindor emblem tattooed upon one of them. He rather delighted in his room, enjoying the glass case in which his most prized possession, a Nimbus 1972 (top of the line, of course), was held. The wooden floors, beautifully glossed dark oak wood, were covered by the warm rugs that his mother had special-ordered from an expensive shop in Diagon Alley. He balanced his eagle feather quill, a gift from his father, upon his right index finger. He kept it there for nearly a minute while he thought of what his next order of action was. He decided he was absolutely hopeless and a lost cause. And that prompted his thoughts of a certain red-haired soon-to-be-murderess.

It wasn't Lily Evans's fault that he liked her. It really hadn't been her choice at all. If she had had a choice, which she hadn't (as she had loudly proclaimed so many times in the hallways for everyone to hear, to his eternal shame), she never would have asked for James Potter to like her. She hadn't completely enjoyed the popularity it had thrust upon her, or the supposed social standing she held from it. Because of his unfortunate crush, Lily Evans could no longer avoid the general population's scrutiny, as she had before.

Prior to the crush, Lily had been a quiet and smart girl, speaking almost only in classes and refusing to engage in the battles of wit James and his best friends had held nearly every day. She wrote many letters, none of which James had managed to intercept, and spent a great deal of time in the library. She had a special pass from Professor Dumbledore enabling her to read everything there, to her never-ending delight. She had risen through the ranks of power, becoming a prefect in their mutual fifth year at their school, and relished the responsibility though it did not go to her head (much). In fact, to James's perpetual regret, she had been an altogether wholesome and happy girl without him. It was because of him her entire life was topsy-turvy.

Lily Evans could no longer roam the halls without being questioned about the whereabouts of James Potter—her supposed boyfriend. She had grown tired of answering the question and almost resorted to hexing the questioner into oblivion. The only thing that saved them from death had been her strict moral compass, which had been loosening as the questions grew more and more common. Her haven in the library was interrupted by the multitudes of boys who had flocked to gawk at her, their previously hidden adoration turned public as the most popular boy had admitted to all his feelings. She was no longer able to sit in the library and read in peace; instead she now sought quiet asylum in the Prefect's Room, which hadn't helped her much at all. Because all prefects had clearance to enter the room many decided to camp out there and watch as she struggled to focus on her books. When she was finally able to insert herself into the book she was often jolted out of it by the slam of a door or the raucous laughter of other prefects. In summary, it was utterly hopeless to be Lily Evans once James Potter announced her as his desired social queen.

James Potter was the co-ruler, one of four, of Hogwarts. The entire school, apart from the Slytherins, bowed down before them and worshiped them with almost godlike reverence. They called themselves Marauders and rarely did someone disagree with them. To disagree would be to bring upon one the wrath of a ruling party with the population's adoration. Only the Slytherins and Lily Evans had managed to do so, with only Lily ending unscathed.

The Marauders were not bad people, as many were quick to point out. They, quietly, helped those who needed it. In fact, their kindness was evident in the choosing on the fourth Marauder.

James Potter and his best friend, Sirius Black, had been friends from the age of three. Though Sirius's mother had tried desperately to separate the two, it was impossible. They had met one day in the broomstick store in Diagon Alley, examining a very expensive broomstick. They were inseparable from that moment on. Eight years later, almost to the day, they met the third member of their group.

Remus Lupin was a sandy haired boy with an overprotective mother and a well traveled father. He was extremely intelligent, neat, and a little shy. He had been sitting in the last train compartment, completely alone. He had taken out his favorite book and had begun to thumb through it when he was rather rudely interrupted.

"You're a twat, Potter." A somewhat tall brown haired boy said confidently.

"Not nearly as big of one as you if you think that the French can beat us at Quidditch." The boy with jet black hair and glasses that framed his bright blue eyes answered.

"It's not a matter of patriotism, idiot. It's all about strategy."

"It's all about how the French have never beaten us in anything, ever." The black haired boy finally noticed Remus. "Hello, I'm James Potter." He slid down onto one of the seats. "These aren't taken, are they?"

Remus shook his head. "They're free. I'm Remus Lupin."

"This idiot over here is Sirius Black. He thinks the French can beat us at Quidditch!" James glanced at Remus again. "You're magical, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Remus nodded, "I'm as magic as they come. The two of you are too, right?"

"'Course. With my mother anything but would have had me killed." Sirius Black said lightly. "She's as blood purist as they come."

"What house are yours hoping you'll get into?" Remus asked.

"Gryffindor, for sure." James grinned. "My mum and dad were both in it."

"Anything but Slytherin for me. Preferably Gryffindor, though." Sirius shrugged. "You?"

"Gryffindor as well."

After a brief pause, James and Sirius took up their argument about what team was better. It took about five seconds for Remus to join in and defend his country's flying skills alongside James.

Remus had, prior to this meeting, been prepared for complete isolation and silence. He had adapted to this, prepped for it, and was pleasantly shocked to find friends.

The fourth member of the Marauders was met in line for the Sorting, a rat-faced boy named Peter Pettigrew. He was shaking visibly as he watched the others be sorted. He had latched onto the threesome and had proved somewhat unshakable. Sirius merely rolled his eyes at Peter while James and Remus tried to make Peter feel comfortable. It was because of this kindness that Peter had begun to revere the Marauders. He was not one of them in skill or wit or comedy but, once he was accepted, he was in it for life. They were a brotherhood that no bonds could shake.

Of course, this was all before James Potter saw Lily Evans in their fifth year at Hogwarts. Lily, who had previously been rather skinny and small, had morphed into a stunning beauty. Her small frame had maintained its skinniness while growing curves in all of the right places. Her hair had changed from the bright red she had hated into dark auburn curls that were delightful to look at. Most of all, her emerald green eyes were accentuated by the eyeliner and mascara she had taken to wearing.

James saw her and she honestly took his breath away. He had waltzed over to her, reached out his hand, and asked her out. That began the lifetime of rejection.

James shook his head to clear it of the thoughts of the past. This year would be different, he had decided it already. He would finally get Lily Evans to date him. It would take time, yes, but it would happen. In fact, he had enlisted two of the greatest minds at Hogwarts (besides his, of course) to help him.

Mindless twat,

You are psychotic. There is no way in hell Lily Evans will ever date you.

-An Anonymous Well-wisher named Sirius Black

PS. I'm coming over to stay tomorrow. Parents are driving me insane. Regulus is a saint. I'm the devil. It's great.

That was the response his best friend had sent him after a long letter of desperation.

His other best friend had at least responded a bit kindlier.

James,

Please seek help from someone other than me. I have no idea how the feminine mind works. Ask someone who dates a lot of them, like Sirius. Actually, on second thought, don't you dare ask Sirius. He'll probably give some mad advice, if any at all. Ask a girl. You do know a girl, don't you?

Best wishes,

Remus L.

The problem was that James knew plenty of girls. Unfortunately they all wanted to date him and half of them had already dated Sirius.

James sank deeper into his couch, wallowing in self-pity, while Lily Evans, a mere one hundred miles away, did the same in a white rocking chair.

Lily Evans was depressed. It was almost her seventh year at Hogwarts and she hadn't a clue what to do with her life. She had spent nearly every day studying, working towards the goal of graduating with honors. However, once she graduated, she had absolutely no idea what to do with her life.

Her mother and father, God rest their souls, had died almost three years ago. She was supposed to live with her sister, Petunia, and her sister's awful husband, Vernon, until she reached the age of 18. Luckily for Lily, she wasn't one to follow all the rules.

She was sitting in the attic of her newly found flat. She was technically supposed to be living with her sister but when she had first moved in, it was utterly unlivable. She was supposed to have spent her last two summers living there but she had found the prospect unbearable. Scrounging up her savings and calling on as many favors as she could, Lily had managed to travel during her summers.

She had spent the summer before her fifth year living in Paris, in Montmartre. The apartment she had managed to let was beautiful, the walk up not so much. It was the fifth floor of a building that looked directly at Paris. It was because of all the steps that Lily had managed to rent it for an extremely reasonable sum of 10 pounds a month.

The summer before her sixth year had been spent in Krakow, Poland. She had learned Polish from a nanny when she was little and so had spent many happy days living in on the first floor of an old apartment building. Her flat had looked out onto a cobblestone street and was decorated with an adorable wrought iron bed. She had loved that flat and that city.

This summer she had tried to decide where to go but instead chose to stay in London. She had found an adorable attic flat in the center for a very reasonable price. It was only one room with a bathroom and had been extremely ugly when she found it. However, it only took a few well placed waves of her wand to beautify it. She had added a small stove and icebox, painted white with lovely flowers stenciled onto it. She had built in shelves by wand, filling them with her books. She had copied her black wrought iron bed and placed it in a corner, covered with a gorgeous yellow comforter with white pillows. The walls she had painted pale blue and in the center of the floor, beneath the wooden table she ate and studied upon, was a beautiful circular rug with colors that mimicked her room. There were pictures adorning her walls from her travels, small knickknacks she had found along the way. Her trunk, which her parents had bought her upon her admittance, stood empty beneath one of the windows she washed diligently by hand once a week. She adored her room and its position as her safe haven.

Her kitten purred as it sat in her lap, her small kitty she called Monty after the place in Paris she had found it. It was obviously a magical cat, never growing from the size she had found it as. Monty was her best friend.

"Oh Merlin, Monts, what am I going to do?" Lily asked, stroking his fur coat. "I'm so screwed."

James echoed the sentiment.