"But she doesn't know who I am, and she doesn't give a damn about me. 'Cause I'm just a teenage dirtbag, baby. Yeah, I'm just a teenage dirtbag, baby. Listen to Iron Maiden, maybe, with me." – "Teenage Dirtbag" by Wheatus
Well, that certainly took James back. No, he wasn't a nerdy, pale introvert during his years at Hogwarts. He wasn't friendless by any means, and his personal hygiene wasn't a question for the rest of society to ponder.
To the average onlooker, James Potter was everything but. He was a "cute" boy in first year, and by fifth year, he had been elevated to "hot," and had every girl in the school – from the first years to the seventh years, fawning over him, secretly drawing fanart and writing fanfiction of herself and him. He had possibly the most loyal group of friends in the history of the universe – collectively, they were the Marauders, the most popular, attractive group of males in the history of Hogwarts, or at least that was the general opinion of the female population of Hogwarts. You would, of course, have to exclude Peter Pettigrew from that count, though. In retrospect, Peter Pettigrew was the teenage dirtbag the other three had pitied, and had taken him in.
So, he wasn't a teenage dirtbag during his Hogwarts years. But Lily Evans always managed to make him feel like one. Despite being female, she did not carry the same opinion of James Potter as her peers of the same gender. She viewed him as an arrogant bullying (which to be fair was true up until sixth year – he hated Severus "Snivellus" Snape because Snivellus, despite being a teenage dirtbag, had something he didn't: Lily Evans. Being a misguided tween, and later teen, his chosen course of action was to therefore randomly hex Snape, which in turn, caused Lily Evans, the only girl he ever really liked, to hate him.)
No matter how much Lily Evans hated James Potter, she had always had known who he was. She had always given a damn about him (don't believe her when she tries to deny the latter). How could she not? She heard the whispers around the castle; she listened as her friends incessantly went on about James Potter and Sirius Black. She watched their Quidditch matches (she was a Gryffindor; how could she not – house pride); she grumbled about their disrespect when they pulled yet another prank. She yelled at them for being too noisy in the common room while she tried to study; she fended off Potter's terrible, cheeky (and creative, now that she is able to admit it) flirtations with ever the more creative insults. No, she didn't give a damn about Potter's feelings, but she sure did give a damn about him.
One incident was especially clear.
It was fourth year. It was mid-January, at which point in the school year everyone has come down with cabin fever. The castle seemed stifling, repetitive, and dreary. It was an odd time of year, as the Hogwarts castle only ever felt this way for a short time every year.
She had just finished breakfast five minutes ago, and was now heading down the corridor towards Charms. The corridor was empty, as she had eaten earlier than most students typically did. It was her routine to rise and eat earlier than the typical student, as she enjoyed the quiet, solitary time the early walk to class provided – sharing a dorm with four other girls did not exactly lend itself to quiet, solitary time. It was clearly a very important time to her as she made the extra effort to get up early in the morning, despite profusely hating mornings.
Potter – damn his Gryffindor nerve (forget chivalry –she was absolutely sure he had none of that) – had the nerve to disrupt her morning meditation on her walk down to Charms. And he did it in the least pleasant of ways possible.
"Evans! Wait up! I have something for you!"
She kept her back turned and continued walking.
She could hear his footsteps as he started jogging to catch up.
She could feel his breath on the back of her neck. She kept walking, but didn't speed up, not wanting him to know she noticed him at all.
He put his hands on her shoulders and spun her around.
She pushed his hands off her shoulders, glaring, crossed her arms, and said, "What? And don't touch me. Ever."
"I just wanted to show you the warrant for your arrest. You're being charged for stealing my heart," he said cheekily, smirking. "Go out with me, Evans?"
"Never will I go out with an arrogant, bullying, toe-rag of a teenage dirtbag like you Potter, in my lifetime!" she screamed at him. "Does that answer your question? Because if not, I can simplify it down to a single, two-letter word: 'No.' I really hope that's not too complicated for you to understand, Potter."
It was that incident that James remembered as one of many times that Lily Evans thoroughly succeeded at making him feel like a teenage dirtbag, despite what anyone else would say about him. She was a thief - a thief of hearts, stealing not only his but filthy Snape's heart, too, without even trying. She couldn't see it at all, but it was crystal clear to fourteen-year-old James Potter that he was competing with Snape for her heart, the other victim to her unconscious crimes. It was clear that she was a felon, a thief. And he loved her for it.
A/N: I know Teenage Dirtbag by Wheatus wasn't released until nearly two decades after James and Lilys' deaths, but shhhh, shhhh. Just go with it. It will all be explained in due time why exactly James was listening to a Muggle song.
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