Padfoot pointed out that Lily Evans was not, in fact, the prettiest girl in the school. Marlene McKinnon was ten times hotter, though she was two years above them and "out of our league. Well, maybe not mine." Claudette Belby, on the other hand, was madly in love with James and had much bigger curves. "She's a redhead too."

Sirius ducked James's incoming fist, laughing.

James flipped him the finger and turned back to his current task: brushing his teeth and trying not to think about Lily Evans. He failed the latter miserably. But what else was new? His head had been full of her since... since first year, actually, though back then he'd just thought it was because she was so annoying, this snooty, goody-two-shoes who dared look at James like he was dripping filth (had she seen the guy she's so chummy with?).

Then in the summer before third year, James got his epiphany. It was at one of those boring parties his mother dragged him to, where adults talked too much and none of the children had a personality. James was just devising a plan to sneak out (it involved setting the hostess's hair on fire and slipping dungbombs into the tea; Sirius was right, those would come in handy) when his mother sprung out of nowhere and whisked him away. "Come meet Miss Vendelloo" (or was it "Miss Venxilarp," he really couldn't remember), his mother had said glowingly. "She goes to Beauxbatons, but she's in your year..."

It said a lot about James's willpower that he forced himself to smile blandly and pretend he couldn't tell what his mother was up to. It wasn't that bad... at first. They just had to make some polite conversation and the girl from Beauxbatons was certainly talkative enough. But then, before James could excuse himself, the house-elf called for dinner and his mother suggested they sit together, "you cute darlings," and the girl blushed and what could James do, he sat down across from her, tucked in, and was quite in fact thankful that Sirius, Remus, and Peter weren't here right now. Especially Sirius.

Well, let's just say that James managed to go through the whole party without hurting anyone or (more impressively) himself.

The minute he got home, though, the dreaded moment came. His mother dropped her purse on a chair and turned on him. "Now what is your problem, James Edmund? Tell me what was wrong with that perfectly wonderful young lady!"

James looked at his father for backup, but his father was taking a suspiciously long time hanging his coat in the closet. "I didn't-"

"You were falling asleep before they served the first course!"

"You saw that?"

"Of course I saw! I'm your mother!" Mum shook her head in that exasperated way James had long grown used to. "Maybe you are a bit too young, or maybe-" she cast him a look that suddenly made James's hair stand up "-have you got somebody else in mind?"

At that instant, a flash of angry green eyes and wild auburn hair, a petulant yell of, Get lost, Potter!

"Oh? Could I be right?" Mum was smiling a smile that James did not particularly like.

"Nah, Mum, I'm going to bed!" he shouted, even though it was only nine-thirty, and Mum was still heard laughing after he ran to his room.

James couldn't work it right for a week straight, that he liked Lily Evans in that way. She was- she was an utter brat, she was. She could barely be called a girl, slurping her soup all the time, climbing trees barefoot... and she even sucked at flying! James's Number One Rule in women was: she had to be good at Quidditch. Lily Evans fell into a mud puddle their first flying lesson, it was the funniest thing ever, only she didn't get all embarrassed like the other girls who were horrid at flying, no, Lily Evans just stuck out her chin and glared at everyone, the hardest at James, and even the mud smudged over her robes and nose didn't stop her from getting on that broom again immediately afterwards, calmly asking Madam Hooch, "What am I doing wrong, ma'am?"

She never did get that much better, but by the end of the lesson she managed to stay on the broom long enough to zoom at James, fast enough to make him shout and swerve away.

The smirk she had given him was the first time James had noticed the tiny chip on one of her teeth, and that her green eyes shined especially bright in her glory of victory...

The toothbrush in his hand went slack and tumbled to the ground as James's eyes glazed over at this five-year-old memory. "Oh dear," sighed the mirror. "Here we go."