A/N: I've been reading James and Lily stories for years but have never written one. These will just be a bunch of short chapters showing the very creative ways in which James asks Lily out. Oh, and I own nothing. (Which is probably for the better). Reviews are much appreciated.

"C'mon Evans! You can't deny the fact that you want to go to Hogsmeade with me! Deep down, you're pining away for me.

"Must be very deep down," muttered Sirius, who was sitting next to Potter in the Great Hall.

"Potter, leave me alone. Take my word when I say that no part of me is, as you say, pining for you. "My teeth clenched as I said this.

"Believe me, you are! You just…um, don't know it yet?" Wow. Even Potter knew that what he said didn't make sense.

I sighed. I didn't have to put up with this. "Goodbye, Potter," I growled as I began to turn my heels away from the direction of the Great Hall. As I started walking, I heard that awful voice again. Life just isn't fair.

"I wrote you a song!"

Okay, I stopped walking. As much as I disliked him, I was now curious. I turned to face him and Potter abruptly began to sing.

"Lily, she's so beautiful and kind

And after I sing this song I know she'll be mine

And Lily she's so, uh, cool

She does, um, really well in school

Lily she's sweet

And, er, her handwriting is neat

Lily she's so pretty

Um, she likes dogs better than kitties

Oh, and she doesn't live in Chile."

You know what the saddest part of all of this was? Potter actually looked proud of himself. That idiot really thought that I had liked that poem!

"Potter?"

"Yes, Pumpkin?"

"Don't ever sing to me again!"

The jerkface seemed unfazed. "No problem, I'll just rap it instead."

Oh dear lord. I didn't know who I wanted to hurt more-Potter or Black, who was still laughing from Potter's song. Taking another deep breath, I began to walk away from him…again.

"It's okay! You don't have to listen to me sing you songs. I can just make a big poetry book. You know, just a little gift between two lovers."

I'm not his lover! How dare he? I should really start walking faster…we were getting some weird looks. The only thing that was making me feel better right now was thinking of what I would do if he really did give me a poetry book. I was torn between tossing it into the Great Lake or giving it to Professor McGonagall and telling her that James was thinking of her when he wrote it. Or…give it to his fan club so they'll never leave him alone. Don't ask me how somebody like him even has a fan club. I mean, so what if his eyes are all hazel-y? He's still a toerag who smirks and fixes his odd excuse for hair every two seconds. (Honestly, it resembled a sad mop). I was far enough from the Great Hall by now, but I still managed to hear Potter scream one more thing:

"Believe me Pumpkin, one day you will be Mrs. Potter!"

Yuck. Me and him? Married? This boy was seriously delusional.