He is a prat. He was, is, and always will be a prat. A handsome, smart, athletic prat, fine, but a prat nonetheless. Maybe his prattiness was due to the fact that I am constantly forced to think of quick, sarcastic replies to his ignorant quips. Maybe it was because of the way he got excellent marks without a single minute of studying and less than five hours of sleep. Maybe it was because Quidditch stopped being the only thing he cared about and actually performed his Head duties with a seriousness I had never expected him to have. Maybe it was because the way he always musses up his hair, his stupid, confident grin, that glint in his eyes he gets when he thinks of something clever, the way he gives me feelings like no other (it used to be anger, but now…)- all of those had become less annoying and, dare I say it, more charming, attractive, endearing, and every synonym of those words I'd never thought I'd use to describe Ja- Potter. Of course, the most obvious reason for his prattiness is that he'd been asking me out for three years, stopped in the middle of sixth year, and is actually making me bloody fall for him now that he's a decent person and there's no chance of him ever asking me out like he used to.

Calm down, Lily. You're probably just confusing deep loathing for liking the bloke. Anger and infatuation were both classified as passionate emotions, right? You're just confusing your abhorrence for attraction… Or was it the other way around?

No no no no, Lily, stop vacillating. You are going out with Edmund Davies on Saturday! Edmund's number one in the list of boys the Hogwarts female population would like to date!

Isn't that Potter?

Does it matter? He's everything Potter is, Quidditch captain and all that, and he's in Hufflepuff, which almost guarantees sweetness that will melt your heart and drive out Potter once and for all.

What if I don't want to drive Potter out?

Then you've just surrendered yourself to heartbreak and misery.

But… I don't feel miserable whenever he smiles at me… quite the opposite, actually…

At that thought, I shut both the voices in my head up. Fancying Potter meant fancying the bane of my existence, and that will simply not do. All I needed was some male companionship, right? Most of my male companionship time had been spent with Potter, Head duties and all that, nothing to do with, ahem, the enjoyment of his company. At all. Nothing at all. Although he does make me laugh like Richard Bones never could… and his eyes always seemed to change colour… sometimes it was a deep, dark brown, other days it looked almost green, with flecks of yellow. My personal favourite would have to be the hazel those eyes always seemed to acquire whenever I looked at him… hey, maybe it was a special colour for me. A special, reserved-for-Lily colour. I like the sound of that…

LILY EVANS, STOP IT. YOU ARE GOING OUT WITH EDMUND DAVIES ON SATURDAY WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT.

Right. I needed that. Potter had given me literally a million chances, and I chose to ignore all of them. Whatever despair I'm feeling right now, I deserved it… but Potter was nowhere near the amiable sort-of-friend I now had back then. Back then, he was so insouciant and thoughtless and he fancied me. Is that why he fancied me? Because he was young and foolish? The sudden thought made me feel a bit sick. So now that he's grown up a bit, he finally realised… Oh, bugger that. Off to Hogsmeade Edmund and I will go, and Potter can only blame himself for not asking me out earlier.

He still might. He's staying for the Christmas Holidays, isn't he? Edmund isn't. you and Potter may even get stuck under a bit of mistletoe together while you're on patrol, and no one can catch you then…

Oh bloody shit wank bugger I need to stop.

Patrol! I still needed to swap with someone! Potter was right, Edmund is free, but I don't want him thinking I was taking advantage of him. Ugh. I'll just have to finish the bloody essay earlier in the night. Edmund's nice though, I pondered. It would be a pleasant date, I suppose. Who knows, if it went just that well, I could watch the Quidditch match the following day and cheer him on- wait, no, Hufflepuff's facing Gryffindor. Which means, Edmund is facing Potter.

Merlin, does everything have to come back to the subject of my eternal enmity?

I mean, his name isn't even an especially good-sounding one. Potter. Does that mean he likes pottery? Did his ancestors have prolific skill in that area? Will his descendants? Is it even something that can be passed on?

I remembered the art lessons I took with Petunia when I was younger, before I went to Hogwarts… before my sister called me a freak. It included pottery, as I recall. I had been quite good at it; my mum was delighted with the small vase I made her. I could make a good Potter.

Lily Potter. I tried saying it out loud, just to hear what it sounded like.

"Does this mean you plan on marrying me, or are you referring to some distant relative of mine?"

Merlin's pants, how did I not hear him coming up?