By the Bard

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Harry Potter. Those rights belong to J.K. Rowling and the companies involved in publishing her work. Anything you see in this story that you recognize belongs to the aforementioned parties.

Summary - 4th year. James corners Lily in the common room, leading to a discussion about Shakespeare.

A/N: So this is the kick off to a series of one-shots I'm planning on writing that will details the Marauder's Era at Hogwarts. For anyone here who read my previous one-shot, Crash, that story is going to be tied in to the continuity I'm creating.

The goal is that each one-shot can be read without having read any of the others, so if you haven't read Crash that isn't a problem.

I'd like to thank Estoma, my beta, for making my writings make sense.

James Potter knew a lot about Lily Evans. Her obsession with reading being a prime example.

Not that it was exactly a secret. After three and a half years Lily's bookworm tendencies were a well-established phenomenon to the students of Hogwarts. She was rarely seen without a book in hand. She would read through Quidditch matches, through meals, through whole classes if her instructors didn't intervene. And once she started, it was very difficult to get her to stop. She would be cut off from reality, swept up in a sea of words.

James wasn't precisely against reading, but he didn't understand why she spent so much time doing it. It wasn't as if she were antisocial; she had friends, particularly her dorm-mates Selene and Marlene (and of course Snape, but James liked to pretend that wasn't true). She wasn't disliked by most students; she wasn't Miss Popularity, but she wasn't an outcast either. She just preferred to read than spend time with her friends. He was surprised her friends let her get away with it, but apparently it didn't bother them.

Her obsession might have been more acceptable if she'd been reading textbooks (more akin to a Ravenclaw than a Gryffindor, perhaps, but still on some level understandable). But Lily's obsession was with stories. And woe-betide the person foolish enough to ask her about her book; she would proceed to talk their ear off about the characters in her novel or the intricacies of plot-lines until her unfortunate victim managed to beg her off.

Unless of course the person asking was James Potter. When James would try to talk to Lily about her books she would usually glare at him, and he would count himself lucky if that was all she did. Lily seemed to believe that his questions were just a ploy to ask her out.

She was right, of course, but that was beside the point.

Lily, as was her custom on Friday nights, was sitting in front of the Gryffindor fireplace reading, looking entirely comfortable. James, as was his custom on Friday nights, was observing her as she read. Well he wasn't solely observing her; that would be stalking, and besides she didn't exactly change much while she was reading. But every few minutes his gaze would drift away from his History of Magic essay and he would catch himself staring at the redheaded witch.

Who could blame me? he thought to himself. Who wouldn't rather look at Lily Evans than do homework?

And it wasn't as though he had any other distractions. Remus and Peter had both gone home for the Holidays, along with most of the school, and Sirius had somehow wound up in detention with McGonagall. How he had managed that when school wasn't in session James had no idea. The common room was deserted save for the two of them and a couple of second years James didn't know, playing gobstones in the corner.

After a good thirty minutes of switching his gaze between his homework and his crush, James gave up on history and decided to turn his energy towards a more worthy pursuit; Lily's affection. He shoved his homework into his bag and casually made his way to the chair across from Lily's.

"Hello, Evans!"

She didn't respond. She didn't so much as glance in his direction. Suddenly feeling awkward, James turned his gaze to the fireplace. He ran his right hand through his hair absentmindedly, trying to figure out what to do next.

For a few minutes they sat in silence, broken only by the crackling of the fire and the sound of pages flipping. James noticed she had her hair down, a few locks cascading in front of her face, blocking her eyes from view. He thought the less formal hairstyle looked nice on her, better than her usual French braid. She was still wearing her school robes, even though the dress code was more relaxed during the Christmas break. Her book was black hardcover with a gold binding. He tried to read the title, but the text was too small to examine from where he was sitting.

As the silence stretched, James became restless. He started racking his brain for any plan to start a conversation with his reluctant crush. When no clever words to provoke a conversation came to mind, he decided something entirely different was called for.

James began to clear his throat awkwardly, exaggerating the action to try to gain a response. Lily didn't even blink, apparently too swept up in the pages of her book to notice his presence. Resolute, he tried again, hacking and coughing louder than he had the first time. And again Lily didn't so much as glance in his direction.

This time James knew she was ignoring him; there was no way she was oblivious enough that she failed to hear his coughing fit.

Fine, he thought. You asked for it Lily.

James began hacking and sniffing nonstop, growing more obnoxious with wheeze, as if someone was choking the life out of him. The second years in the corner glanced at him in concern, until they realized who he was and who he was sitting by, at which point they returned to their gobstones. James continued hacking, falling out of his chair and crawling towards the fireplace, which he then used to stand up, only to lean against it for support as another violent fit of fake coughing began. He was about to escalate things further when Lily finally spoke up.

"Potter," she said, as if talking to a small child, "I know you're there, I'm just ignoring you."

She said this while lazily flipping to the next page of her book, without even a cursory glance in his direction. But the opening was all James needed.

"That isn't exactly mature, is it Lady Lilykins?" he said, smirking as he took his seat once more. "And all I was doing was trying to strike up a civil conversation with you."

Lily kept her gaze firmly planted on the pages in front of her. "I don't have anything civil to say to you, so if you don't mind I'd rather say nothing at all."

James raised an eyebrow. "Come off it Evans! Are you still fussed about that prank I pulled on your boyfriend?"

At this, Lily turned her gaze towards James for the first time. James' heart skipped a beat as her emerald eyes met his. He chose to ignore the fact that she was looking at him as though he were something disgusting and instead focused on how beautiful her eyes were. Then the moment ended and he was brought back to reality as she spoke.

"First of all, Sev is not my boyfriend," she said. James inwardly rejoiced at how adamant she was about that topic, before she continued. "And yes, you toe rag, I am still upset that you thought it was a good idea to throw my best friend, who you knew couldn't swim, into the middle of the Great Lake!"

James ignored the slight stab of guilt (he had honestly forgotten Snape couldn't swim) and pressed on. "It's not as if Snivellus drowned, is it?"

Lily's glare intensified. "Only because the Giant Squid decided to throw him out of the lake!"

James suppressed a grin at the memory. "Still, it all turned out alright in the end, didn't it? No permanent harm done. Too bad about that really, but what can you do?"

James knew it was the wrong thing to say before the words were even out of his mouth. Lily turned her attention back to her book, her grip on the novel visibly tighter than before.

James was delighted at the fact that he had her silently fuming. In his mind, anger was associated with passion, which was very much preferable to Lily's usual (and hopefully feigned) indifference. Besides which, he enjoyed their verbal sparring. Remus, Sirius, and Snape were the only other people he regularly bickered with. With the first two the disagreements were rarely serious; with the latter the disagreements were bitter and took on a darker edge. Arguing with Lily was fun, and involved no ill will (at least not from James).

"So," he said blithely, "what are you reading today?"

Lily stayed silent, forcing James to try a different tactic. He stood up and calmly walked towards the seemingly oblivious Evans. When he reached her, he snatched the book out of her hand and closed it before she could protest.

"Potter," she said dangerously. "Give it back if you know what's good for you."

James shook his head, "Now now, Evans, don't make threats you won't follow through with."

Lily made a lunge for the book, but James held it above his head and out of her reach. Ignoring her attempts to take it back, he looked up and read the title.

"Hamlet, by William Shakespeare," he read, maneuvering the book to evade a particularly energetic attempt on Lily's part. "Interesting title Lady Lilykins. What's it about?"

Lily, apparently fed up, pulled out her wand and pointed it at James.

"Expelliarmus!"

James was so shocked at Lily pulling her wand on him that he didn't react. The book flew out of his hands, cascading towards the portrait hole. Before it even had a chance to land Lily summoned it back into her hands with a simple Accio charm.

James massaged his hand, which had been hurt by the force of the book ripping from it.

"I was going to give it back you know," he said as she returned to her seat. "All you had to do was ask politely."

Lily snorted as she searched for her page. "How about this for politely; politely go throw yourself off the astronomy tower."

"Oh I've done that before," he said, smiling at the memory. "It's a lot of fun if you use some cushioning charms ahead of time."

Lily rolled her eyes. "Of course you have," she said sardonically. "Look Potter; we both know why you're here, so will you just ask me so I can turn you down and get back to my book?"

"But it isn't any fun if I already know the answer Evans!" James tried and failed to look wounded by her words, going so far as to attempt the "puppy dog look" Sirius had taught him. Apparently it wasn't as effective as his friend had claimed, because it made Lily even more irritable.

"Ask the question Potter!" Lily snapped.

James, however, wasn't in any hurry to reach that part. "What makes you think I wanted to ask you anything?" he asked. "Maybe I just want to talk."

Lily sniffed. "You know, you'd think that could be true, but you've proven me consistently wrong for the last six months. So forgive my skepticism."

James didn't hesitate. "You're forgiven," he said. This earned another eye roll from Lily, which James again chose to ignore.

"So what is your book about?" he asked, taking his seat across from her once more. Lily, who by this point had begun to read again, turned her attention back towards James.

"Potter, you don't care what my book is about," she said.

James spoke, putting his hand on his heart as he did so," Lily, you wound me. I wouldn't ask if I wasn't genuinely interested."

Lily met James' eyes, seemingly trying to decide if he as being genuine. After a moment she firmly shut her book and placed it on the side-table next to her chair, her love of discussing literature apparently winning out over her misgivings.

"First off," she began, "it isn't a book per say. I mean, this copy is in a book form, but it's actually a play."

James raised an eyebrow. "Why would you want to read a play?"

Seeing a nasty look begin to form on Lily's face, he hastily continued. "It's just that plays are meant to be acted out, aren't they? Wouldn't just sitting and reading it be a bit boring?"

Lily's expression became more neutral at his question. She bit her lip, something he knew she did when she was trying to find the right words to explain something.

"You want to read it because William Shakespeare is the greatest writer of all time. His words are beautiful."

James shook his head. "You're wrong. Eldora Wordcobbler is the greatest writer of all time."

"Who?" Lily enquired. James, glad to know something the redhead didn't, was quick to explain.

"Eldora Wordcobbler. She was a witch born 200 years ago who wrote a series of semi-fictional novels about the founding of Hogwarts. Her stories are brilliant; real tear-jerker."

Lily seemed to consider this bit of information, no doubt committing it to memory so she could look up the novels later, before shaking her head.

"I'm sure she writes well, but if you'd read Shakespeare you'd know you're wrong," she said. "He is in a class of his own. No other writer can even touch him. This is his twelfth play I've read in a row, and they are all brilliant."

James decided there was nothing to gain by mentioning how obsessive that last bit sounded, and moved on. "So what is the play about? Is it very funny?"

Lily seemed to ponder this. "Well, yes, it is. And at the same time no, it isn't."

Now it was James' turn to roll his eyes. "Evans, I'm not sure you could have been vaguer if you'd tried."

Lily crossed her arms. "Well it isn't exactly a simple question. You see, it's about this young prince, he's the title character of the show-"

"Oh, so Hamlet's a name?" James interrupted. "I thought the title was about a small village?"

"It's that too, but in this play it's a name," Lily replied. "And don't interrupt."

Slightly mollified, James pretended to zip his mouth shut before nodding for Lily to continue.

"Hamlet's father was secretly killed by his uncle Claudius, who married Hamlet's mother, Gertrude and became king," Lily began, her voice full of energy and enthusiasm. "Hamlet found out about it through talking with his father's ghost, and he starts trying to plan his revenge. The whole thing drives him insane though, and eventually he starts killing people. I'm not quite at the end yet, but so far he has killed his lover's father, and been responsible for the death of two really unimportant characters who were supposedly his best friends. And he was also kind of responsible for his lover's suicide."

James had been biting his tongue throughout Lily's explanation, but couldn't hold it back anymore. "Yeah, I can see how that would be funny. It sounds like a laugh a minute."

Lily visibly deflated at his words, making James wish he had kept silent. She grabbed her book off her side-table and started to riffle through it once more.

"It is funny. And also very tragic. Now, if you don't mind, could you please leave so I can get back to reading?"

James shook his head adamantly. "I'm not leaving until you agree to go out with me."

Lily turned back to James and jabbed her finger in his direction, her eyes gleaming with something akin to triumph.

"I knew it!" she said smugly. "I knew you just wanted to ask me out. Now, kindly shove off." She turned her attention back to her book, her demeanor suggesting the conversation was over. But James wasn't finished yet.

"Come on, Lilikins!" James pleaded, trying to find the words to persuade her. "Going out with me would be much more fun than reading a boring old play about some crazy guy."

In hindsight, James realized insulting Lily's book was probably not the best way to get into her good graces.

"It isn't boring!" Lily protested, rising to her feet in agitation. "It's amazing. And I wouldn't date you-"

"If it was a choice between me and the giant squid. I know." James flashed Lily his 'charming smile'™. "Really, you need to come up with different exaggerations."

"Who says I'm exaggerating?" Lily replied darkly. James started to retort, but thought better of it, choosing instead to stay on topic.

"Lily," he said with all the charm of a used broom salesman, "just agree to go out with me and I'll leave right now. I'll let you get back to your book."

Lily shook her head resolutely, hands clenching by her side. "Potter I won't go out with you."

James let out a frustrated sigh, rising to his feet and walking towards her. "Well will you at least give me a reason? You never give a reason; you just say 'No' over and over again. I want to know why?"

He'd been expecting her to dodge the question as usual, but instead she answered without hesitation. "Because you're Petruchio."

James eyes widened. "I'm who?"

Lily seemed surprised by her own words. She took a deep breath, as if steeling herself for something unpleasant. "You're Petruchio. He's a character from one of Shakespeare's plays."

"Oh," James said, as if that explanation cleared everything up (it didn't). "So you're saying I'm like this Petrucha?"

"Petruchio," she corrected. "And yes, you are."

James was put off by this line of conversation, but hid it behind his patented brand of humor. "So, is Petruchio a dashing gentleman who comes and sweeps the lovely maiden off of her feet? Because I wouldn't mind that comparison."

Lily snorted. "Hardly," she said bitterly. "He's an arrogant, misogynistic playboy who forces a woman named Kate into a marriage she doesn't want."

"Well, Evans, tell me what you really think about me," James responded, trying to hide the sting of her words behind humor. Lily wasn't done, however.

"After they marry, he cuts her off from all of her friends and family and beats her down until she's a shell of the woman she was before. Kate is a strong, vibrant personality, and he breaks her down until she's become a helpless subservient 'lady'."

James was outwardly steaming, but Lily still wasn't finished.

"You're Petruchio. But I am not Kate. You only keep asking me because I am the girl who said no. The moment I agree you'll be able to declare your supremacy over womankind again, and you'll get tired of me. Or worse, you won't and I'd be stuck with you. And on top of all of that, I'm just not interested!"

James had heard enough. "You don't really think that," he said, closing the distance between them.

Lily turned her gaze away from him, apparently unable to meet his eyes. In spite of this, she didn't back down. "Sometimes Potter. Sometimes I do."

"You're wrong," James said, moving around her until she was forced to meet his eyes. "First off, I'm not a misogynist-"

Lily interrupted him. "I noticed you skipped over the part about being arrogant."

"For god's sake," James yelled, "could you let me talk? You've said your fill, it's my turn."

Lily, perhaps shocked by the seriousness of James' tone, fell silent. James decided it would be best to make his point before she found her voice again.

"I like women. And I don't just mean I'm attracted to them. I don't think men are remotely superior; I think we are pretty much on equal footing. And yes, I'm arrogant; but I'm talented so I'm entitled to it."

Lily scoffed at that, but James ignored it. "And I don't keep asking you out because I want to win anything. I like you. Is that so difficult to believe? I like you because you're pretty, and smart, and funny. And I don't want to change any of that. If I wanted some mindless eye candy I could ask one of my fan girls, but I'm asking you. And I don't care if you have no intention of ever saying yes, because I'm going to keep asking. Because that's the type of person I am. I'm determined. And I'm confident. And yes, sometimes arrogant."

Silence fell at the end of James' impromptu speech. James tried to read Lily's expression, but it was blank. He wasn't sure she believed anything he'd said, which frustrated him, but it didn't matter. It had needed saying.

Now though, he felt the need to leave, as he didn't think pushing the issue was going to change her mind. He started to move towards his room, before one last thought occurred to him. He turned back to Lily, whose attention had returned to her book.

"Oh, one more thing. If we're talking Shakespeare characters, I'm not Petruchio. And you're not Kate. You used the wrong play. Because I'm pretty sure you're Beatrice. And I promise you if that's true, I'm Benedick."

And with that statement James left for his dormitory, leaving a wide-eyed Lily Evans behind him.

A/N: So that's done. Hopefully I'll have another one up and about in a couple of weeks. Feel free to leave a review. I don't mind if it's a good or bad review, but try to at least make it constructive. That's how I'll learn. Any flames that are filled with expletives that are not also constructive will have buckets of water poured over them.