Romantically Challenged

"Guys, I need help," said James Potter, standing in the middle of the Seventh Year Gryffindor boys' dormitory.

"With what? And how many rules will it break?" asked Remus Lupin warily with just a hint of impatience. Ordinarily, Remus had the patience of a saint, but since it was the day after the full moon, he wasn't feeling particularly tolerant.

Undeterred, James ignored the less than enthusiastic response from his friend. "I need to do something especially romantic for Lily…You know, just to show her that I care and all that rubbish that girls like. But I can't think what to do. So I thought— "

"You thought, you'd just ask us for help," finished Remus.

James involuntarily ran an agitated hand through his already messy black hair. "Well—yes," he said. "So…."

"Well, you're the one dating her," Remus reminded him. "Don't know you what sort of things she likes? Those would most likely be the kind of thing she'll think romantic."

James nodded, "Yes, yes, of course, but what sort of things do girls like for romantic stuff?"

"Everyone's different, James, and the last person you can expect to fall for the generic brand of romance is probably Lily."

"But romantic stuff's different, Moony."

"How so?"

"It just is! Its romance and other stuff….stuff that if I knew, I wouldn't be bothering you about. So what kinds of things do girls like?"

"If you're asking about girls in general, you're asking the wrong person," said Remus. He spoke as though annoyed and he had a mingled look of regret and longing. Remus had decided during their Sixth Year that he wasn't going to date girls. Remus thought he was making a mature decision, considering the fact that he was a werewolf and so condemned to being a social pariah. James disagreed, and on more than one occasion had told Remus, who refused to listen to him, that his "furry little problem" and its unfortunate consequences wouldn't matter to the right girl.

James gave Remus up for a lost cause and turned towards a bored looking Sirius. He was lounging in his bed, but yet somehow looked elegant while doing so. Despite his determination to set himself apart from other rich pureblood families, Sirius had a natural, effortless grace that, to his immense pleasure, drove girls wild. He was circling his wand, directing a set of flaming pygmy puff-sized balls to rotate in a circle.

"You know, I thought we'd had had it when you finally started dating the bloody girl!"

James scowled at him. Sirius had very little patience for James' frequent talks about Lily; although, it had to be admitted that Sirius did have a reason to be tired of her. Lily Evans had been James' favorite subject to talk about since fifth year. There had been many nights where all James was able to do was talk about Lily, Lily, and more Lily. It was really enough to drive a bloke insane. And, to be honest, Sirius had never understood what exactly was so special about Lily Evans. She was brilliant, he had to admit, and quite beautiful with long wavy red hair and sparkling green eyes, but she had a temper that, in Sirius' opinion, far outweighed her positives.

"Just because you don't like Lily, doesn't mean you can't have any ideas, Padfoot. And I'd've thought, seeing as how you'd like to 'shut me up,' as you say, that you'd just give me an idea. Just one."

"First, I don't not like Lily; I just don't like talking about her all the time. And second, ok," said Sirius, grinning back at James.

James, catching the funny gleam in his eyes, quickly added, "And something more than just a box of chocolate frogs."

Sirius shrugged casually as he Vanished the flaming balls of fire and flipped open a rather risqué magazine. Over his shoulder, he called, "If you didn't want my help, then you shouldn't've asked, mate."

Beginning to become frustrated with the lack of help, James turned to the fourth person in the room, Peter Pettigrew. Unfortunately, Peter was in his bed looking well on his way to very deep slumber. It had been a trying day for all of them between their three very difficult and very important tests in Transfiguration, Potions, and Defense Against the Dark Arts, but it had been worse for poor Peter who had had to study twice as hard as the other three boys in the room. It wasn't even that he was stupid, it was just that the talent that James, Sirius, and Remus had in abundance, just wasn't naturally there for him.

"Pete, please tell me you've got an idea."

Peter looked at James through his sleep-filled eyes. "I dunno, James, I really d-don't know," he mumbled. "Give me a moment and I—" but the rest of Peter's thoughts were lost in a huge loud yawn.

"Guys, come on! I'm really desperate here!" said James. He spoke as though he were pleading for his very life.

Remus glanced down from his notes and sighed.

"It's really not as bad as all that, James, but if you really need the help, then I guess we can all—" he stretched out the word so that both Sirius and Peter grudging got up from their beds — "try and come with an idea."

"Thank you!" exclaimed James. "And if you guys ever need help with anything, anything at all, I'll—"

"Tell us we should figure it out for ourselves," finished Sirius. They all laughed. Then Sirius said, "Alright, James, it just so happens that this magazine has the answer to all of your problems."

"Your magazine can tell James how to show Lily a romantic time?" asked Remus skeptically.

Sirius shrugged. "It's not like you've got any better ideas."

"This is true," Remus allowed.

Sirius handed the magazine to James and Remus who were sitting in front of Peter's bed.

"'How to Romance a Witch On the First Date (And Get Asked Inside),'" read Peter aloud. "Does this actually work?"

Peter sounded a little hopeful and James felt a little sorry for him. Peter had the worst luck with girls than any of them. Mostly, James thought, it was his slight weight problem and often told Peter that girls were fickle. But Sirius disagreed, saying that it was Peter's lack of confidence that was where all the problems lay for him.

"No," said Remus decisively. "This won't work well. Trust me, James."

"I beg to differ, my un-romanced friend," said Sirius. "Look right here, there's this bloke, Bob Ogden, that's got plenty of luck through this magazine. Says he's charmed his wife-to-be."

"Well you can't say fairer than that," said James. Remus looked ready to argue the point.

"It's your grave, Prongs."

"Don't be such a downer, Moony," said Sirius. "We'll just have to tweak a few things is all since this obviously isn't your first date, Prongs."

"First things, first, I suppose," said Peter. "'Step One: Find an obscure romantic poem. Step Two: Figure out what it means. Step Three: Memorize it.'"

"Sounds easy enough," said Sirius cheerfully. And the four of them set off to the library to find a poem and plan the most romantic evening that would impress any girl, including Lily Evans.

Two nights later, Sirius, Remus, and Peter sat down to dinner in the Great Hall and waited for the arrival of Lily. Upon her arrival Remus and Peter were to tell her that James was looking for her and where he was, while Sirius told James through the mirror that Lily was on her way.

Yet even the best paid of plans unravel in ways more disagreeable to the planner or planners. Peter, who had become anxious when Lily was unwilling to give up her evening meal to look for James, let it slip that James had a surprise for her. It wasn't until Lily had walked away looking quite excited that Sirius remembered that his mirror had been taken up by Professor Slughorn earlier. Slughorn had called the mirror a "truly ingenious piece of magic" and wanted to examine it further. As he had thought he was getting off particularly easy for having not paid attention in class, Sirius had been content to let Slughorn keep his mirror for a while.

With no warning whatsoever of the coming of his girlfriend, James began his artfully planned romantic evening on a remarkably poor note. Lily's ill-timed entrance into the abandoned classroom on the fourth floor shocked James, who had been muttering the poem quickly to himself, into complete silence.

"Hello, James," said Lily smiling, "I hear you have a surprise for me."

"Erm, no" blurted James, panicking slightly. "I mean….er, yes! Yeah, I did…I mean…I do! I do! I do have a surprise for you."

Lily burst out laughing as she took a seat in the comfy sofa. The look on James' face reminded one of a child caught by his mother stealing a cookie out of the cookie jar before supper. And despite being noted for his cool demeanor when under pressure, James was extremely nervous.

He cleared his throat and forcing his hands down by his side, he began to recite:

"O Nightingale that on yon bloomy Spray,

Warbl'st at eve, when all the Woods are still

Thou with fresh hope the Lover's heart dost fill,

While the jolly hours lead on propitious May,

Thy liquid notes that close the eye of Day,

First heard before the shallow Cuckoo's bill

Portend success in love; O if Jove's will

Have linkt that amorous power to thy soft lay,

Now timely sing, ere the rude Bird of Hate

Foretell my hopeless doom in some Grove nigh:

As thou from year to year hath sung too late

For my relief; yet hadst no reason why,

Whether the Muse, or Love call thee his mate,

Both them I serve, and of their train am I."

There was an awful awkward silence that reminded James of when he and Lily had first started dating.

"Erm James," said Lily uneasily. She was toying with her long red hair distractedly and looking uncomfortable. "Why are you reciting poetry written in English so old it barely counts as real English?"

James looked at her blankly. He recited what was supposed to be a deeply romantic love poem to the girl of his dreams. Yet it looked as though Lily hadn't understood the poem any better than he did. He didn't understand. She was supposed to understand it, love it, and cry helplessly about how sweet it was that he read her this poem. She was a girl for Merlin's sake!

"Well—" he coughed—"I thought you'd, you know, think it was erm— romantic or—er, something."

He had hoped that she would look happier at least to know that he had tried to think of something romantic. He couldn't have been more wrong. The face Lily made was a mixture of amusement and disappointment.

"And this was what you thought of? Poetry you—and I, for that matter, don't even understand? Did you expect me to fall into your arms like some simpering idiot?"

Lily's words were harsh, and James knew she probably didn't mean for them to come out as baldly as it did. But still he jumped on her words like a flame on wood. He was frustrated beyond belief at the moment and he was quite sure that he would never plan another romantic evening to spend with Lily ever again.

"'S not my fault you don't understand it. You girls are mad, you know. First you say you like poetry, and then when I give you the bloody poetry, you're on about how you don't understand it!"

"When did you ever hear me say that I liked poetry?" Lily exploded. "I've hated poetry since I was eight when I was first forced to read it!"

"Oh now you hate poetry," said James in a sarcastic voice that clearly betrayed his thoughts. He didn't believe it, not one whit of it. "Now I suppose you'll tell me that you're half a girl or something and—"

"Half a girl," screeched Lily. "Half a girl! I think that you know more than anyone exactly how much of a girl I am, James Potter! And to think that you dare—dare accuse me of—of—!"

James held up both his hands up in a gesture of surrender as Lily, whose face had turned beet red, spluttered with rage. He had realized that he had gone too far the moment that she had interrupted him. He had, once again, spoken without thinking. It was, he knew, one of his worst habits, but yet he couldn't help himself.

"I'm sorry," he began clumsily. "I just wanted do something for you. Show I cared, and…." His voice trailed off, but he finished the sentence in his head. How much I really like you. He looked at Lily who looked as though she understood. It was one of the things he had always liked about Lily; she always seemed to understand what he was thinking, even when she went around for the past six years calling him an arrogant toerag.

Lily sighed. "I'm sorry too," she said. "I shouldn't've blown up at you about it. It's just my sister thinks I'm a weird girl too—and not just because I'm magical and she's not. Just because I don't like poetry and other sickeningly sweet stuff doesn't mean I'm not a girl. It just means you've got to try a bit more for me." She smiled at James sheepishly.

"I know you're different, hunny bunny," he said in what definitely would have qualified as a "sickeningly sweet voice" as she said. "Do you think that I, the great James Potter, would fall for boring average Jane?"

Laughing, Lily shook her head. Her smile lit her up whole face and James was mesmerized. Not wanting her gorgeous smile to leave her face, he reached out and tickled her. Lily shrieked and he wondered why he had never tickled her before.

"James—haha—s-s-stop—ahahahaha," Lily laughed. But James didn't stop just as Lily couldn't stop laughing. Lily laughed so hard that James thought she might die of laughter. She had fallen to the floor and just as he was considering giving her a moment's break, Lily found a way to end his merciless attack.

All thoughts of tickling Lily left James as her soft lips came met his in a hot kiss. Their kiss grew deeper and there was no space, not even a millimeter, between them. They were kissing with abandon, their arms wrapped tightly about one another. This was the scene of his imagination. He pulled away to grin at her.

"So tickling you is what it takes to…."

"No, silly."

"Well, then what is?" asked James, a little frustrated that he still couldn't figure it out. Girls, he thought, you can't live with them, but you can't live without them.

"James, what's my favorite thing to do when I've got nothing else to do?" Lily asked with air of patience that he only ever heard when she was tutoring some titchy first year Charms.

"Read."

"Exactly!" she said beaming. But James still didn't understand. What in the world was romantic about reading? And if reading were romantic, then what the bloody hell was wrong with the poetry?

He grudgingly opened his mouth to say that he still had no clue about this romance thing and that he was finally giving up and Lily gently pushed him away. It seemed as though he were going to be in trouble with her again for not understanding, yet again. She grabbed her wand, muttered something that James didn't hear, and waited.

A book flew into her hands and Lily smiled. James merely looked at her, clearly confused. Lily held up the book and said, "This is romantic."

"A book?"

"No," replied Lily. She walked over the couch and flicked her wand at the fireplace. The room, which was already at a comfortable temperature, became warmer, cozier. Lily jumped on the couch and patted an empty space next to her.

James walked over and sat down, wondering for about the millionth time that night what in the name of Merlin's most saggy Y-fronts was going on. He glanced at the book, which he saw was called The Princess Bride, and then back again at Lily.

"Go on, read it," she said encouragingly.

He opened to the first page and began to read. As he read, Lily rested her head on his shoulder. He stopped reading and put his arm around her.

"Don't stop," she murmured.

Slightly bewildered, James continued reading. He had no idea why Lily had wanted him to read this book to her. It was clear from the battered front cover and the couple of dog-eared pages that the book had been read countless times. But James could not hear what Lily heard. He could not hear his deep timber voice slowly enunciating the words of one of her most favorite books. He did not understand Lily's delight in hearing those words that she had read time and time again resonate through the air. He only understood the intimacy of the moment as she lay against him, listening intently.

James finished reading the fourth chapter and paused. Lily looked at him with a beautiful smile that nearly took James' breath away. Then she placed her hands on his cheeks and kissed him. He sighed into her, moving his hands up and down her sides. She shivered slightly and her hands became entangled in his hair. James' head spun as his tongue tangoed with hers. He felt blood rushing through him, to his head, his hands, which had now left her sides to her waist, crushing her against him. It was quite a few minutes, or perhaps hours, before she pulled away.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"For what?"

"For the most romantic evening," she said. James looked at Lily as though she were joking, but she appeared to be quite serious. He knew he ought to just keep quiet and accept the praise, but he simply couldn't help himself.

"I haven't done anything though. I've botched the entire night and reading this book is about the only thing I've gotten right all night."

"You still don't get, do you, James?" she said smiling softly. "Just this, hearing you read this book, my favorite book by the way, is enough. Two of my most favorite things in one night: reading and spending time with you."

James tried to understand. Then slowly, but surely, it came to him. Remus had been right after all. It wasn't about chocolate and poetry like Sirius' magazine had said. Lily was too unique for the answer to be that simple. And maybe, just maybe, James thought, being romantic wasn't all that hard or all that boring. Sleepily he closed his eyes and rested his head on Lily's. He just might plan another romantic evening sometime soon

Disclaimer: The poem is John Milton's "O Nightingale that on yon bloomy Spray." James, Lily, Remus, Sirius, and Peter are, of course, J. K. Rowling's.

Well, I was working on another story, but this bit of fluff just kept popping up, so here it is! Please review, it means so much! Wishing you lots of laughter, love, and Harry Potter,

The Hogwartian