James
J- Evans, why don't you and I take a short detour? That broom closet over there looks pretty cozy.
L- Do I look like a broom to you?
To be honest, I haven't actually gotten this desperate in my life. I wasn't nearly as desperate when I knocked down and broke my mom's entire Faberge collection—that was last summer; not when Sirius and I had gotten stuck in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom (don't even ask why). Not even when we almost got shredded into smithereens by Remus during full moon. I mean, this had to go down under the situations-of-life-and-death category.
Because I was going to die the next time Evans turned me down.
I said that the last time and as Sirius was kind enough to mention, I'm still alive. But barely, I tell you. Every encounter with that witch tends to shorten my life expectancy by at least a couple thousand years.
So it's really a big, fat wonder why I'm still at it.
I mean a guy could only take so much, right?
J- Evans.
L- No, Potter.
J- But you didn't even let me finish!
L- Oh. You were going to ask about homework?
J- No. I was just wondering if you'd want to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend.
L- Wow. That really changes my answer.
J- Really?
L- Yup. Instead of no, it's never.
But it looks as if I'll never learn. I've asked her out at least a thousand times and she's likewise worked up a thousand different ways to say no. Who does that, hmmm? Clearly she's never heard of a thing called mercy in her life. And that's just it. She's about the coldest, harshest, most frigid merciless witch this side of England but I'm bloody crazy about her! Any normal, rational, self-respecting guy would probably give up after the first five hundred rejections but not me. If anything, it just makes me more determined.
I mean. She's got this really awesome hair, and these vivid green eyes, and lips so beautiful that it doesn't even matter if she'd never used them to smile.
Well. Okay. She does smile. Just never at me.
And it's not just her face, really.
How many times have I watched her study? Or demonstrate a particularly tricky incantation during Charms? Or scold some enterprising third years who thought they could get away with sneaking out after curfew? She's got this way about her. So much focus and…passion that even her eyes seemed to shine with it. Like every single thing she did was something she really believed in. Not just some obligation she was expected to do.
Sometimes, it almost makes me want to start submitting homework on time.
I've never known anyone but Lily Evans who could have that much purpose in life. Maybe that's the reason for this obsession. She's like everything righteous in this world. And when I talk about her this way, Sirius just completely walks out. Says he can't bear to see his best mate act like a lovesick puppy ten times a day. He's right of course, to some extent. I really should get a hold of myself if I want to retain any dignity at all.
And right now, I just really wish she spent as much time thinking about me as I do thinking about her; because, seriously, Lily Evans has gotten my priorities pretty much screwed up already.
And she's not even here.
S: Hey Evans. You wanna do a nice guy a favor?
L: (looks around) Sure. Where's the nice guy?
S: (glares) Right here. It's getting really hard to keep James' mind on pranks, you know.
L: And I would care because…?
S: Because half the bloody time, we're figuring out how he'd get you to go out with him! So just this once, please say yes so we can all go back to our normal lives in peace.
L: Here's a dictionary. You can start with the word 'No' then follow it up with the words 'I-Don't-Give-A-Damn'. Come back when Potter finally gets the point.
See what I mean about harsh? And that's already when she's in a good mood. Honestly. There should be a statue erected in my name. James Potter. The epitome of everything courageous and valiant. Pursued Lily Evans until his very last breath.
But she doesn't seem to see the valor in that. To her, I was just a cocky, self-absorbed idiot—an arrogant bullying toerag.
I don't deny that I was all of those things. Once.
Up until two years ago, I was a constant show-off, with a snitch, my broomstick, my windswept hair. I made a hobby out of hexing people—particularly Slytherins and particularly when it involved exposing their greasy underpants for them. I did it because I could and because people would still worship me no matter how mean or arrogant I could be.
Naturally, Evans didn't approve. In fact I have feeling, it's the reason she started hating me.
I assured her that it was just some perverse phase which I would eventually get over—and which I did, towards the end of sixth year. But it wasn't a piece of cake; I don't mind telling you that. Just goes to show how much I was willing to do to impress her highness. Imagine giving up hexing Slytherins.
So it's really not fair for her to still call me those foul, stinky names.
Because I'm not like that anymore. I like to think I've changed.
J- You're a very lucky girl, Evans, you know that?
L- Why ever do you think so, Potter?
J- Because some girls can only dream of getting me alone at night and here you are, experiencing that dream and without even much effort.
L- Nightmares are really not my thing, Potter.
Only I don't think she knows it yet. So I figured, I've got a whole year to do it right this time around. I'm going to show her what a nice, pleasant, likable guy I can be. I won't hex Slytherins anymore, I won't sleep during classes. I will keep my big mouth shut. I'll lay off from chasing skirts and I'll quit the pranks for the time being.
These are all temporary of course. Only until she notices the big, whopping change. But as a mark of true friendship, Remus pointed out that this whole new me is still really me. I'm not trying to be another person. I'm just, y'know, refining the old one.
I just saw Evans take the seat two rows in front of me and you know what? She's more beautiful than she was yesterday. The scent of her soap wafted towards me and I almost opened my mouth to comment on it. Remus gives me a warning look that says 'Don't even try.'
I fingered the silver badge on my robe and smothered a grin. If I want to pull this off, I needed to look serious, right?
Lily gives me a fleeting glance and turns away quickly, causing her quill and parchment to fall to the ground right next to my feet.
I pick them up. "Hey Evans."
She turns again. Is that confusion I see in her bewitching eyes? I know what she's thinking, what she's expecting. But not this time.
"You dropped these." I tell her, fastening my most effective smile.
She takes her things wordlessly and watched as I turn back to my desk and continue writing.
Is that brilliant, or what?