Six hundred forty-seven.
That's how many times he's asked her out, and he knows that because he's counted. Not because he really cares, of course. She doesn't really matter to him in the long run. It's just that- well, it's kind of funny to see her face go so red and he finds it sort of cute how her nose scrunches up when she hollers his name furiously. And then there's the fact that, in all honesty, he's a spoiled brat, and he still hasn't quite understood the meaning of the word, 'no'.
Six hundred fifty-six.
He really should have stopped by now. He knows it, too. Sirius has told him, Remus has told him, everyone has. But it's a little more complicated than just moving on, because somehow, her biting insults in response to his invitations have become a part of him, and he doesn't think he'd still be Potter if they just stopped. Besides, he needs something to entertain himself with, even if it is all a meaningless game.
Six hundred seventy-one.
He never actually thought she'd say yes. It was supposed to be an inevitable cycle: he'd ask her; she'd say no; he'd ask her again; she'd still say no. But then he catches her at just the wrong time. She's curled up in a little ball in the very corner of the common room, surrounded by her friends. If he'd paid just a tad more attention that night, he might have noticed that her eyes were tinged with red and her friends were glaring at him like he was the spawn of Satan. Instead, he strides rather pompously over and grins jovially at her.
"The Hogsmeade visit is coming up," he announces. It's not like it really matters, since he knows how to get there whenever he wants, but she doesn't know that. (Not yet, anyway.) "Go with me, Evans." She rolls her eyes and stomps her foot and he's ready for her refusal, when-
"Fine. I'll go with you to Hogsmeade. Are you happy, Potter? I'll go on a damn date with you! Now, please, just leave me alone!"
And suddenly, everything's changed for him, because even if it was given to him reluctantly, he's gotten what he's wanted. But now, meeting her fiery glare, he isn't sure if it's worth it at all. Because she hates him, and it'll just be an uncomfortable night for the both of them, and honestly she seems a little bit scary just then, so he does the sensible thing and stands her up.
It's for the best, he reasons, because neither of them mean anything to the other. So why is there that little twinge in his chest as he watches her set out to Hogsmeade from his window, on her way to meet somebody who isn't coming?
Six-hundred seventy-one. (Still.)
If you'd asked him one year ago if he thought she would be dragging him into the corner of the commons room to talk about a date, he would've called St. Mungo's. But it's happening, and he's more terrified than he's ever been in his life because she's got one strong grip and it's so obvious that he isn't going to win this argument.
"Are you fucking kidding?" she demands angrily, slapping him across the face for good measure. For once, she doesn't care that the entire Gryffindor house is watching her ball out James Potter because he deserves it. "I'm not a toy, Potter! You can't just play with me then put me away! Oh, God, I mean, really? You act like some lovesick puppy for six and a half years and then you suddenly just change your mind? What makes that okay, Potter? Because your fancy family with all their precious pureblood titles might take pleasure in that sort of thing, but the rest of the world - the real world - just thinks those kinds of people are bastards. So, so... Just... Piss off!"
He can't do anything but stare, partly because Evans never curses, but mostly because she said he was lovesick. That implies he's in love. Which he can't be. Because, logically, the only conversations they've had are arguments and he can't remember her ever saying one kind word to him. It doesn't mean anything if he notices the way she twirls her hair around her right index finger when she's thinking, or that she holds the hand of homesick first years on the way to the Great Hall, or that she's just breath-takingly gorgeous when she laughs at one of her friend's jokes. That's just means he's observant. It doesn't mean he's in love... Or does it?
And as it hits him, it's all he can do to sputter, "Oh, God, I'm sorry, Lily," before he sprints up to his room, feeling like the worst kind of coward because he can't even face the woman he loves.
Six-hundred seventy-one. (Still.)
When she approaches him for the second time, he thinks he's going to throw up. After all, they haven't talked since she ripped him a new one and he has hardly even left his room in weeks. And then, he's just extremely bewildered, because she looks almost pityingly at him.
"Your friends are concerned, James," she says, and some small part of him cherishes the fact that he's now James to her, not just Potter. "And they seem to think I've something to do with your depression or whatever, so I've been recruited to make you talk. Now, what's the matter?" He hesitates. "Spit it out," she snaps. After a small internal debate about whether or not to tell her the truth, he caves.
"What's the matter is that I'm a bloody fool," he spits venomously. He doesn't expect her eyes to widen a little bit in surprise, though. She's the one that's always known just how much of a pompous idiot he is.
"What?" she demands, gaping at him.
"Come on, Evans, it isn't that complex an idea," he growls.
"Yes, but- well, I never thought the almighty James Potter would admit he isn't perfect," she shrugs. He stays silent and she sighs. "So what's made you realize it? I mean, it's pretty hard to wipe away six years of being an arrogant ass and recognize the fact that you're ridiculously stupid."
"You," he mumbles. She furrows her brow.
"Sorry, didn't catch that."
"You," he says more loudly. "I thought I'd be doing you a favor by not going to Hogsmeade."
"Oh. That's what this is about?"
"That's what I said, isn't it?" She gulps as he makes eye contact with her.
"Why would you e doing me a favor?" she prods gently.
"Because you hated me. Hate me. Don't you?"
"Well-. Well, yes, I suppose, but... I don't know, as annoying as you are, Hogwarts hasn't felt right without you running around, pulling ridiculous pranks and asking me out 24/7. It's rather an odd feeling, but-" An almost imperceptible blush comes over her cheeks. "Our little spats have become routine." He chuckles.
"That's exactly what I thought." Her mouth quirks upwards. "You know," he continues. "I am sorry. About Hogsmeade. I was just too scared to admit that I- that I'm in love with you, and I was a git." She watches him thoughtfully.
"You're really in love with me?" she repeats.
"Yes," he says, full of conviction. "So, maybe- maybe next Hogsmeade visit...?" She smiles sadly at him.
"I'm sorry, but- no, James." His face falls. "Perhaps... Perhaps one day, though," she muses as she waltzes towards the door. She pivots just before she leaves and he jerks up hopefully. "I'll see you around, James." He nods, and smiles to himself because even if she didn't say yes, she did say perhaps. So he still has a chance. And she hasn't attacked him yet, so that's a plus. He laughs as he thinks it only took six hundred seventy-two tries to get to this point and grins at her.
"Yeah... See you, Lily."
A/N: So, I found this on my old computer's hard drive, and decided to post it, because it wasn't totally awful... (Hopefully.) Anyway, review please!