Because I'm tired of perfect, do no wrong Lily Evans. People seem to be confused about this, this is not meant to be a realistic portrayal of Lily Evans, this is just me writing a counter to prudish, naive, stick-up-her-as Lily that so many people write.
Unconventionally Perfect
It was no secret that James Potter had a crush on Lily Evans, in fact it probably wasn't possible for him to be any more open about than he already was, and despite the constant (and sometimes rather creative) rejections, and insults, and requests to shove his relentless pleas up a certain part of his anatomy he kept going at it. He took everything in stride, because James Potter was nothing if not persistent (and occasionally loud, arrogant and obnoxious). Before all his year-mates even noticed girls he was after her, with her long red hair, huge green eyes, witty humor, and optimistic outlook.
James Potter had had a crush on Lily Evans for a long, long time, but it wasn't until he was sixteen that he fell in love with her, and he can remember with clarity, if not the exact moment, the exact night.
He had been furious, raging and storming, and stomping out of the castle down towards the grounds because he couldn't even think beyond the anger rushing through his head. He just wanted to run, to run until he collapsed and then never wake up, and his feet lead him in the direction of the Great Lake as the adrenaline begins to wear off, leaving him in a state of exhaustion.
In his hand he clutches a brown paper bag, filled with the 'supplies' they were going to use tomorrow night, because it was one of the we're-going-to-do-something-stupid-and-rebellious-just-because-we-can-nights, but then Sirius had gone and screwed things up and nearly got Snape killed, and Remus arrested, and hell, the rest of them arrested as well because they're illegal animagi. Suddenly the anger's back and it's fighting a losing battle with his exhaustion until he's sick of being in his own head and he starts walking again.
Suddenly he sees something flash in his peripheral vision, it's a small something, just a tiny reddish-orange glow giving a small bit of illumination to the deserted grounds. He walks towards it because he's curious, and he hates his cat so he doesn't care if it dies because it's a stupid bloody saying anyway.
It's then that he realizes that the Hogwarts grounds aren't that deserted after all, because laying on the dock facing the sky, muggle jeans rolled up to her knees with her calves submerged in water is none other than perfect prefect Lily Evans who he can't even summon up enough energy to be attracted to at the moment. To top it all off she's got a cigarette hanging from her fingers, occasionally bringing it to her mouth and expelling smoke like a pro.
He walks up to her because the shock of seeing her lying there is enough to quell the last of his anger, his voice sounds flat as he says hello, and she doesn't look at all concerned about being caught out.
"Hello Potter," she says, and James can't help but think she's a hypocrite, before realizing that she's not one at all, because she screams at him for being arrogant, and humiliating people, and asking her out, but never once for breaking the rules, because she has a problem with hurting people, not breaking rules. Encouraged by her response and rejuvenated by his realization about her character (and that she's not so perfect after all) he asks,
"How're you doing?" She stares at him for a minute before answering, forgoing her usual cheery smile and reassurance for the truth,
"Absolutely horrid."
"Yah? Well I'm not too great myself, mind if I take a seat?"
"I might," she answers, and he can't help but smirk just a little,
"Would you mind," he says, opening the bag that he had barely noticed he's been clutching, "if I told you I had alcohol and sugar?" She studies the jelly slugs and bottle of firewhiskey before gesturing to her right,
"Take a seat," she finally responds, and so he does, kicking off his shoes and rolling up his uniform slacks before sticking his legs in the water and lying back on the solid wood of the dock.
"So," he says finally, "when'd you start smoking?"
"Last year," she says vaguely, kicking her feet slightly, and James doesn't have ask when last year, instead opting to take his interrogation down another path,
"And what's so horrid?" She takes a drag of the cigarette before answering,
"My Dad died two weeks ago, and I've been at home crying, and my sister won't talk to me and I'm not invited to her wedding and I've spent the last I don't even know how long holed up in my room sobbing, and I'm sick of it. What's up with you?" James knows with certainty that he shouldn't tell her, but here he is next to Evans of all people as she smokes a cigarette and talks about her Dad dying, so he tells her anyway,
"My best mate, actually he isn't even my best mate anymore, he's my bloody brother, just nearly got your ex-best friend killed by telling him where to find Remus when he's turning into a werewolf, so I had to save him, and now the headmaster knows about Sirius, Peter and I being illegal animagi."
"Unregistered animagi, impressive," she says, completely skipping over the fact that her fellow prefect is a werewolf, but knowing her she had figured that out ages ago. If he were that perfect guy that she doubtlessly wanted he would have offered her consoling advice about dealing with grief while she cried in his arms, but he's not, he's James bloody Potter, so instead he opens the bottle of firewhiskey and hands it to her. She takes a hearty swig before handing it back,
"Thanks Potter, I needed that." And so the night continues, them getting steadily drunker, until at one point as she's rolling around laughing at something he's said she falls into the lake, and because she's sensible (even when drunk) she manages not to thrash and drown herself, instead grabbing onto the dock. And because he's not sensible (especially when drunk) he jumps in after her, but eventually he grabs on too and they haul themselves up.
Calmly, as if they hadn't just almost died she reaches into the waterproof moleskin pouch suspended around her neck and produces a lighter and a box of fags extracting one and lighting it before taking a drag.
He has the bizarre urge to laugh, because here's Lily Evans laying inches away from him, sopping wet, smelling of firewhiskey, and smoking a cigarette. He revaluates what he thought earlier about her not being perfect, because she is. Maybe not in the goody-two shoes way he thought, but definitely perfect, and so he falls in love, and already in the back of Lily's mind there's this nagging thought that maybe this insufferable boy isn't half bad after all.