Thirteen-year-old Sirius Black yawned as he tried, for the thousandth time, to read the chapter Professor McGonagall had assigned them. The cheering flames of the common room fire, which danced persistently in his face, didn't help his fatigue. Normally, he wouldn't even have bothered with such a mundane task as homework, but Remus had insisted they "buckle down" and study lest they fail their finals, which were less than a week away.

"Screw this," Sirius said, closing the thick book with one hand and lying back in the armchair he occupied, "I can't take it anymore. Sorry, Remus, but I'm just not cut out for this studying thing."

Remus sighed and looked up from his Charms essay. "You and James both," he said, pointedly glancing at James Potter, who was busy polishing his broomstick.

"Hey, I have a Quidditch match tomorrow. That's more important than schoolwork!"

"Yeah," said the last member of their group, Peter Pettigrew, "It's the last match of the season, we have to win!"

"Well, anyway, I'm out soon. I've got a date," Sirius said, looking at his watch.

"Again?!" said the other three simultaneously.

"Yep," Sirius said smugly, "Melissa Moores. Blonde. We're going for a romantic walk around the castle."

James snorted. He very much doubted that Melissa's idea of a romantic walk was the same as Sirius'.

"Another Slytherin?" asked Peter.

Sirius looked pained. "That was once. And I swear I didn't know!"

"You went out with a Slytherin girl?" James said, "How many girls have you dated this year anyway?"

"More than you," Sirius said, "Don't be jealous just because I can get anyone I want and you can't."

James put down his broomstick. "For your information," James said, "I can get any girl I want. It just so happens that I don't want anyone."

It was Sirius's turn to snort. "You really mean that? You can get any girl at Hogwarts to go out with you?"

"Of course," James said, although he didn't feel as sure as he sounded.

"Alright…" Sirius smiled evilly. "Lily Evans. I bet you fifty galleons you can't get her to go out with you."

James made a face. "Of all the girls in this school, you had to pick her?" He and Lily Evans were not exactly the best of friends. In fact, it would be safe to say they hated each other.

"Backing down?"

"Never. Fifty galleons it is."

It was a glorious day at Hogwarts, and Lily Evans was determined to enjoy it, despite her looming final examinations. She lay sprawled on the grass beneath a big tree, her long auburn hair tied up in a messy bun, a quill balanced between her teeth. Squinting at the chapter in her book about Cheering Charms, her concentration was so complete that she didn't hear the cracking of twigs behind her which signified the approaching footsteps of someone she did not want to see.

"Hey Evans."

Lily jumped, the quill falling from her mouth. She picked herself off the ground and stood up, glaring when she saw who it was. She couldn't imagine what he wanted.

"Yes, Potter?"

James cleared his throat and rumpled his hair. Was he really about to do this? Think about the money… "Well, I'll get right to it. Evans—Lily—I've been thinking, y'know, uh…want to go out with me?"

Lily blinked. "What?" she asked.

"You know…like a date. You, me, to-ge-ther."

"I know what going out means," she snapped. Then, decisively—"The answer is no."

"But…"

"I said, no. If this is your idea of a joke, it's not very funny."

"No, no, it's not a joke! I think you're, er, very pretty. And nice," said James, who had often posited just the opposite.

Lily put her hands on her hips, making a face. "And I think you're up to something."

"You shouldn't do that, your face might get stuck."

The color in Lily's cheeks rose to a bright pink. With effort, she contained what seemed to be the desire to curse him into oblivion and settled for a venomous "Leave, you immature toerag. I would never go out with you."

Ten minutes later, James Potter trudged back through the portrait-hole into the Gryffindor common room. He found his friends much the same as they were before, with the exception of Sirius, who had apparently left for his romantic stroll.

"How'd it go?" asked Peter the minute he entered, looking up from the book on Herbology he'd been struggling through.

James didn't reply but instead sat down murderously on Sirius's recently vacated chair.

"That means she said no," remarked Remus, "Really, James, what did you expect? You do insult her on a daily basis."

James muttered something incomprehensible. For some reason, he couldn't get the image of Lily Evans, her hands on her hips, tendrils of her escaped fiery hair blowing in the wind, out of his head.