A/N: This is completely irrelevant, but if you watch the show Glee, you would know that there is a character called Sam Evans, who has a blonde Beiber haircut and huge lips. I would like to proudly announce that I have discovered the Asian Sam Evans at my school, with all of the features, including the fact that he has absolutely no game! Ahem. On with the story!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, Witch Weekly, any teen magazines of today, or Romeo and Juliet. If I did, I definitely wouldn't be using my weekend by streaming episodes of Glee on Netflix.

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Step No. 1: A rose by any other name would smell as sweet. Therefore, buy her 99 roses! Okay, it's totally cliché and kind of overused, but I mean, who doesn't love these thorny flowers? Even better, give her the roses, and tell her that the last one is her! It might not work for everyone, but it did for me! —Rose K., Cardiff, Wales

"You're going to give her roses?" Sirius asks, staring at James. Unfortunately, James really has decided to put the plan into motion (even more unfortunately, all fourteen steps). Apparently, James has also come to the conclusion that in order to successfully complete the plan, he has to hold meetings in which he will repeatedly bang a gavel against the headboard of his bed and annoy the whole of Gryffindor tower by screaming, "Order! Order!"

Currently, all of the Marauders (and Marlene, who has agreed to Sirius's proposal that she be their slightly insane voice of reason after hundreds of empty promises he's sure she'll somehow remember) are gathered in a corner of the common room, listening to James rant about the injustice of Lily Evans refusing to love him back.

"No. Of course not!" James replies. Just as Sirius is about to let out a sigh of relief, though, he continues. "That wouldn't work with her name! I'm getting 99 lilies. Get it?"

Sirius unfortunately does.

"James, I don't think that's a good idea," Peter says, and Sirius smiles gratefully at him. "For all you know, she could hate lilies. Or maybe she just hates flowers in general. I mean, I don't really like roses, since I accidentally grabbed a handful of them when I was five and ended up with a palm full of thorns."

"Why would she hate lilies? They're her namesake," James asks, confused. "I don't hate the person I'm named after. Well, he's dead already, and I don't actually think you should hate the dead—"

"Yes, Potter, you don't hate your great-great-great-great second uncle or whatever. Nobody cares," Marlene interjects. "Can we get on with this already?"

"What do you have to do that's so important?" Remus asks. "You could leave right now, if you want to. I wouldn't mind at all."

"Oh, you might not, but your little friend here might," Marlene says, pointing at Sirius. "You know, he practically begged me to come here. Didn't want to be stuck alone with you."

"Really? He begged? Or do you just love inserting yourself into everything without asking anyone else if you can?"

"Black, didn't you say that I just needed to come here to help Potter with whatever crisis he has today?"

"Yes, Sirius, did you say that?" Remus fixes him with a cold glare, and Sirius contemplates what option would be better; take Marlene's side and risk being celibate for the rest of his life, or stand by Remus and end up having his entire body mutilated.

"Don't you think we should move on from this?" Peter says to no one in particular. "We all know that you hate each other. I don't really want to see a reenactment of the Goblin Rebellion of 1678 today."

"Come on, let's listen to Peter!" Sirius tries, with another look that could rival Medusa's from Remus.

Surprisingly, it's James that saves Sirius's soul, with a "Hello? I'm the one who called this meeting!"

Marlene sighs, looking annoyed, but surprisingly listens to James. "Fine, Potter. Continue explaining how your future wife can't hate flowers because you don't hate your dead half-goblin uncle."

"Future wife," James sighs, apparently ignoring the dead half-goblin part. "Ahem. As I was saying, my dear Evans will not hate the lilies, and will instead fall in love with me after seeing their beauty and vague smell of perfume."

"Okay, James, I think we got the point," Peter says. "Let's just get some lilies and give it to her, and then we can be done."

o o o

Unfortunately, it turns out that procuring 99 lilies is harder than it seems. James had somehow neglected the fact that it was March and the ground was still scattered with snow, never mind the fact that they were supposed to find flowers in full bloom, rendering his plan to pick lilies from the grounds useless.

Remus's idea was to simply transfigure the lilies from twigs, which could have worked, but the resulting flowers looked slightly brown and dull, and smelled of must and dirt instead of their normal aroma.

Peter had suggested they go to Hogsmeade and buy flowers, but as it was, Dogweed and Deathcap did not carry any form of lilies, despite the fact that Sirius spotted at least five bubotubers, a Chinese Chomping Cabbage, and even what seemed to be a young Devil's Snare, which the shopkeeper quickly hurried the five of them away from after seeing Marlene poking many of the plants.

Marlene had laughed, and said that if they expected her to find a way for them to get lilies in Hogwarts, they were all insane, and she was only there so she could laugh and point at them when they failed, like a good person should.

Sirius, fed up, finally offers a, "Why don't we just use the transfigured lilies in the garbage?" He sneaks a glance at Remus, who is currently in the process of throwing away yet another failed flower (it actually looks quite normal to Sirius, but apparently it isn't perfect enough for Remus).

"Just look at them!" Remus says, waving a hand over them. "This one is bright blue, this one literally smells like shit, and—oh, that one actually isn't that bad."

"See? They're usable. Remus, if you say that these aren't good enough again," he says, casting a dark look at his friend, "I will personally disembowel you from frustration caused by your strange need for complete and utter perfection. I don't think I can stand to stay in this "meeting" any longer."

"Fine," Remus huffs, picking the lilies out of the garbage. "If she throws up because of them, though, I'm blaming it on you."

"She won't throw up, right?" James asks, looking worried.

"I don't think so," Peter replies. "Unless you give her the one Remus says smelled like actual shit."

For the next hour, they busy themselves by gathering up all the lilies Remus deems acceptable (or, in his words, "Salvageable."), and transfiguring new lilies. Marlene reluctantly shows them how to make the lilies smell like—well, lilies, and for a while, Sirius figures this might not be too horrible.

Then, of course, James goes into panic mode. "How will I do this?" he moans. "Who thought this was a good idea?"

"You," Remus says simply.

"Arghh!" James cries. "How do I give them to her? I can't just walk up to her, it isn't special enough! No, I'll write her a poem! What rhymes with hurt? Curt! No, flirt!"

"Stop, James," Remus says, holding up a hand. "You're giving us all a headache, and frankly, you're a horrible poet who thinks he knows how to write. The smallest things are the most meaningful."

"That's good!" James says. "Can you repeat that? The smallest things are the best, right?"

"No, James, you've completely misunderstood my meaning again."

Once again, though, James ignores everyone, and proceeds to write out a horrible rambling thing that manages to talk about orbs, fire, and rejection in the same sentence without any semblance of coherency at all.

"There," he announces triumphantly when he finally puts down his quill. "You are the lily of my orb, the fiery headed beauty who manages to captivate me with a single punch—"

Marlene bursts out laughing, but James continues reading. "You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I fell in love with you the first day I saw you, when you sat next to Snivellus and ignored the grease of his hair dripping on your sweater. I loved you even more when you told me I wasn't the worst person in the world in fourth year—"

"Please stop," Peter groans, clapping his hands over his ears.

"You are the most perfect specimen on earth, far superior to any unicorn or fairy. I love you, and hope that you will accept this gift from me to you. These are 99 lilies, each one being something I love about you, and you, my dear Lily Evans, are the hundredth thing."

"Done?" Sirius asks. James nods happily.

"It's great, isn't it?" James asks, puffing out his chest. "This is my best work by far."

"If this is your best work, I would not want to hear your worst," Marlene replies.

"James," Remus says, "I'm sorry to break it to you, but that is first and foremost not a poem, and also something I strongly suggest you burn immediately."

"None of you understand true art," James sniffs. "She will love the lilies and the poem—"

"It isn't a poem!"

"—and by definition she will also fall in love with me, and I will be the happiest man on earth."

"If she falls in love with you, you won't continue with the plan, right?" Peter asks hopefully.

"Of course I'll continue with the plan!" James replies, scandalized. "How else will I keep her interested in me?"

"Wait, so we have to do every single one of the steps?" Sirius asks, his mouth dropping open. "No. Nope. I'm not doing it."

"You agreed," James says. "Remember?" Sirius, unfortunately, does.

o o o

"She's coming!" James hisses. "Everyone, hide!"

"You do realize you're the one who has their head peeking outside of the wall, right?" Marlene says. James has also decided that the gift must be as unexpected and spontaneous as possible, so Sirius is currently hiding in a very cramped corner, blocked by a wall.

"You remember the plan, right?" James asks worriedly. "I'll give everything to her, while you guys act as backup and don't do anything. Okay?"

He gets a chorus of whatevers, fines, and "If we don't have to do anything, why can't we just leave?".

"Great!" James says chipperly. "She's coming, she's coming! She's walking with MacDonald, they're talking, she's coming closer—now!"

"Lily!" James says, jumping out from behind the wall. Unfortunately for him, Evans simply keeps walking with MacDonald, talking about spring or something.

"Evans!" James calls. "Oi, Evans!"

"What do you want, Potter?" she sighs, exasperated. "If this is another request to go with me to Hogsmeade, my answer, as it always has been, is no."

"No, no, it isn't about that—well, it sort of is—but it isn't that!" James stammers. "Here! Happy birthday!"

"It isn't my birthday," Evans says. "If this is another one of your pranks—"

"No, no, it isn't! Look! Flowers!" James points at the flowers frantically. "And look! I wrote a poem for you! This isn't a prank! See? I can prove it to you!"

"You don't need to, Potter," she says, stepping back from a flailing James, but taking the flowers and the poem. "These actually don't look that bad. Where did you get these? Lilies aren't in season, after all."

"Oh, I transfigured them from twigs, boxes, you know."

"He transfigured them?" Remus whispers furiously. "At least he could have given me some credit. I slaved over those flowers, and he can't even acknowledge the fact that I created them?"

"Shut up, Lupin," Marlene says. "I'm trying to observe Potter attempting to flirt with Evans. It's like watching someone kick themselves in the crotch."

"Figures that would be what amuses you," Remus mutters, and Marlene shushes him again.

"Pretty decent spell work," Evans says, sniffing the flowers. "Oh. Wow. What is that smell?"

"Um, I don't really know," James says sheepishly. "McKinnon used some sort of a spell. Do you need help?" Evans seems to be waving a hand in the air, as if to get rid of a bad scent (which, Sirius realizes, is probably it).

"I just don't really like this smell," she says, sneezing. "What spell did she use?"

"Something like Odor Perrie? Odor Perseus? I don't really remember."

"Odor persici?" Evans asks, her eyes widening. "Oh. Oh, Merlin." Her face starts growing steadily redder, and her lips seem to swell up.

"You idiot!" MacDonald yells, reminding Sirius of her presence. "That spell was banned for a reason! Breathe, Lily, breathe," she adds, steadying her voice.

"I didn't cast it!" James protests. "McKinnon did the work!" He covers his mouth quickly after he says it, looking worried, but Evans doesn't seem to be paying attention. If anything, she looks like she's about to pass out.

"It was your idea, wasn't it?" James doesn't argue. Sirius gulps. He thought that Evans was bad enough; he had no idea she had a twin with brown hair and a name that began with "Ma" and ended in "ry".

"Idiot!" MacDonald screams again, but seems to be paying more attention to Evans. "Lily, we need to get you to Madame Pomfrey. Can you walk?"

Evans nods weakly, and MacDonald pulls her by the arm down the hallway, the former swaying steadily.

"You're an idiot, Potter," MacDonald says again, still walking away with Evans. James groans, and leans his head on the wall.

"Well, that went well," Peter says sarcastically. "Maybe next time you can get her a chimera for a pet."

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