"Evans, I don't think you know how much you mean to me," James said agitatedly, pacing the floor of the Gryffindor Common Room. "You're like… well, I dunno. You're like my own personal snitch or something. I chase after you all the time, but I can never catch you."

"Potter, stop spewing nonsense," Lily said, rolling her eyes and flipping the page of her new Witch Weekly issue. "If anything, I'm a Bludger, because I'll hit you soon if you don't let me focus on reading this article."

James looked scandalized. "But you could never be a Bludger! You're too pretty!"

"Fine then, you can be the Bludger. I'll be the Quaffle."

James brightened considerably. "So that means you'll let me carry you under my arm and score points with you?"

"Far from it, Potter-boy," Lily said scathingly, flipping another page of her magazine. "I'll evade you forever and ever and score points with just about everyone but you."

James thought for a minute, his brow wrinkled in concentration. "You may be the Quaffle, but… hey, I'll be your broomstick!"

Lily snorted derisively.

"No, no, listen to this one, Evans – I'd hold you on top of the world and cherish you and love you with all my broomy little heart!"

"Brooms cannot cherish, Potter. You are simply absurd."

"Then I'll be your Quidditch pitch," said James, getting desperate. "You can do whatever you want, but even if you crash, I'll catch you and provide a soft landing."

"Falling from 50 feet in the air onto hard, sparsely grassed ground does not constitute a soft landing."

"I'd make it soft?"

"Impossible. For that you'd need a Sonnerick Charm, and that's more than a few years ahead of your level."

"Darn. Well then… I'd be the announcer. I would proclaim my love for you to the whole world!"

"In that embarrassing scenario, I'd be a dementor and I would kiss you."

"Kiss me?" James said, looking momentarily shocked. "Well, okay then, I – "

"You imbecile. A dementor's kiss sucks your soul out, remember?"

"Oh. Right you are, right you are." He was beginning to look exasperated. "What do you want to be, then?"

Lily considered for a moment, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. "I think I'd rather like to be Madam Hooch," she said after a pause. "That way I'd be able to scream at you all the time and penalize you when you've done nothing wrong."

"Hmm… well then…" he mused. "I would be… hey, I would be Dumbledore! I'd shout words of encouragement from the stands and stroke my long, wise-looking beard."

"You have no beard, James Potter."

"I could grow one. For you."

"How romantic," Lily pretended to swoon. "Oh, I would love that a lot."

James stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Yes, I do suppose a beard would make me look rather handsome, don't you?"

"Absolutely."

"Really?" James looked incredulous.

"No."

"Ah. Didn't think so." He stopped pacing and stared Lily straight in the eyes. "What will it take to make you fall in love with me, Evans?" he said softly, pleadingly. "I'll do it. I'll do anything."

"Bugger off and let me read," Lily said grumpily, adjusting in her seat.

James frowned silently. "I'm going to do it," he said almost to himself. "I swear it, Evans, I will get you someday. Soon enough, you'll see."

Lily made a noise of disbelief, and James flashed his trademark smile at her, though it was tight-lipped and didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm going to catch you one day, my little snitch. I'm going to make you mine."

And as he walked away with a sort of energized frenzy to his pace, Lily really had no doubt in her mind that he would.

Eventually.

a/n. Oh, James. So determined. :] If you laughed at this, or just kind of went "aww" at the end, I'd love to hear some feedback!

xoxo,
Sianatra