AN: So you're going to make me work for my reviews, eh? Fine by me…here's the first real chapter.

Disclaimer: All hail Rowling

Chapter 1

The Tedium of Pursuit

"Face it, Lils," Mary Emilee MacDonald whispered across Bex. "You fancy him."

Lily tentatively directed her glance to the other side of the library, where Ryan Oliver Lewis laughing with the rest of his Hufflepuff Quidditch team. "I dunno…" she said, trying to hide her blush from her perceptive friend, "he's a fifth year."

"And you're a fourth year. It hasn't stopped anyone in the past."

"We've talked, like, twice, Mary. I doubt he even remembers my name."

"I declare B.S."

"You do that," Lily muttered, dipping her feather in her inkwell. She blew a couple scraggly bangs out of her eyes. The History of Magic essay was as awful as promised, and more.

"I'm serious, Lily. He's looking over here right now."

The redhead nearly dropped her quill. "Right now?"

"Right now," Mary smirked.

"Still doubt he knows who I am."

"You know what?" Mary said, rising from her chair. "I'm going to test that theory."

"Mary!" Lily hissed. "Mary, get back here right now!"

She slumped back in her seat with a huff as her friend bisected the library, sweeping her light brown braid over her shoulder.

"She wouldn't."

"Honey," Bex sighed, "how long have we known our dear Mary now?"

Lily fought the urge to scream. "Okay. So I'm about to get humiliated out of this realm. It's not like I needed a love life, anyway."

It was, incidentally, at this exact moment that James Potter chose to appear on the scene. "What's up Chers? Rollin?" he said lightly, sliding off his bag as he slipped into Mary's now vacant seat.

"I told you that I don't respond to that nickname," Lily said, praying for patience in this dire hour.

"I think you just did."

"Well. Yes. I'm just saying, for future reference."

Potter messed with his already-messed-with hair before saying, "You know you like it."

"Don't tell me what I like. You don't know the first thing about me, Potter."

He rested his pale face in his hands.

For the record

James had a striking face,

All smooth angles and hard lines—

(Lily thought about this now, and hated herself for it).

"I know that you're too good for your friends," he said.

"Oi!" Bex smacked his shoulder.

"Present party excluded, Rollin."

"If you are referring to Severus Snape, Potter, then you might as well scoot that arrogant arse of yours out of that chair before I shove it off myself," Lily said, in the epitome of calmness. She was fine. She was calm, cool, capable, and competent. James Potter could not take that away from her.

"What do you see in the git, anyway?" Potter drawled, pushing back in his chair with his hands behind his head. "I mean, okay. So you were childhood best mates. I get it, honestly, I do. But now you're polar opposites. What exactly do you talk about when you're together?"

"How much we loathe you," Lily said in her most sugary sweet voice. "And you're so woefully wrong, Potter. See, you love yourself, and I hate you. That makes us polar opposites."

"You hate me if you tried, Cherrytop," Potter chuckled, readjusting his angular spectacles with one hand.

"Yeah?" Lily growled, capping her ink and stuffing her books into her bag. "Watch me."

And she stormed off in search of Mary, wondering all the while what she and Sev did talk about anymore.

In truth:

James hated the fights afterward, but in the moment,

with the shouting and the energy,

it made him feel alive.

And at least Lily showed feelings toward him of some kind.

"You think she'll ever come around?" James sighed, his mood dropping astronomically.

"Nope," came Bex's blunt reply. Blunt, but painfully honest.

"I've just got to step up my game then," he said, drumming his fingers on the table. "Catch you later, Rollin." He jumped to his feet to catch Remus and Peter, who were just leaving the library.

"Moony, Worms!" he called, catching them in the lengthy, self-assured strides of his long legs. "What's up?"

"What's up with you?" Remus said, voice betraying his disconcertment. "Since when do you ever go to the library?

James Jonathan Potter

had attended the library eleven times

in his four years at Hogwarts.

(Nine out of these eleven times, Lily Evans

was present in the library as well).

"Suspend your judgment, I beg of you. Suppose I was chatting with a bird?"

"Lily Evans?" Peter snorted. "Prongs, it's never going to happen."

"Let the doubters scoff all they like. My victory shall be all the sweeter."

"Are we talking about Quidditch or Evans here?" Sirius said, materializing at James's side.

"Quidditch," James said.

"Evans," Remus said.

"Evans," Peter said.

Sirius pumped his fist in the air. "Guilty!"

"Sod off," James said. "The only reason why Chers won't go out with me is because I haven't asked her."

"And you may never get the chance," Sirius said, eyebrows shooting upward.

"What was that, Padfoot?"

Sirius nodded to the side, where Lily Evans and Ryan Lewis were chatting in very close proximity to each other.

"She's allowed to be mates with blokes, for Merlin's sake—" James cut off as Lewis snuck a peck onto Lily's cheek. And then they were holding hands, just for a moment, before Lily walked off in her little black loafers with the flicker of a smile on her face.

An observation:

Unrequited love is a very tiring business.

Let us flash forward a year, reader, to the darkest year in the history of Lily and James.

The year Lily lost her best friend.

The year James lost hope in ever capturing the heart of a certain redhead.

The year Lily resented James Potter the most.

It started with a breakup. Lily and Ryan had been going strong all throughout the end of 1975 and into 1976, but eventually it was time that got in the way.

"I'm Quidditch captain now, Lily," he said, rubbing the soft skin between her forefinger and thumb. "And I'm taking extra classes this year, y'know, so that I can get that internship at St. Mungo's this summer…I just don't see how it can all work out."

Lily nodded. He was making sense, of course. That's what she loved about Ryan: he was so rational, so practical, thinking everything out. But still…

"We made it through last year, didn't we? Even though you had so much pressure on your shoulders to pass the O.W.L.S. with flying colors. And hey," she laughed— a raspy laugh that was choking back tears— "you got to keep your O's and your adoring girlfriend."

Ryan smiled slightly, but he still wouldn't bring his eyes up to hers.

"Rhys," she said quietly, "if you're going to break up with me, then say it up front."

"I'm— putting a suspension on our serious relationship. Until Quidditch finals are done, at least. If you've moved on by then, then that's okay."

The manner in which he said "okay" didn't sound that way at all.

"If you want to get back together, then…it would mean everything to me."

"I can't promise you anything," Lily admitted, blinking water from her eyes. "I just wish you'd stop thinking this is necessary. I like you, Rhys. I really like you. I could handle seeing you less— if it meant I could still be with you."

Ryan shook his head. "I'm not that selfish, Lils. You're a beautiful fifth year with the whole year ahead of you. You deserve to have fun, not be tied down to a bloke like me."

Lily swallowed, hard. She hadn't cried in five years, not since the day that Tuney called her a freak. Her tears weren't about to spill over now, not for a boy who was picking the easy way out of a heartfelt relationship with her.

"Just know that this was your decision, not mine," she finally said, backing away from a miserable looking Ryan Lewis. And the tears never hit her cheeks.

Something James Potter lacked:

tact.

I'm ashamed to report, reader, that an infatuated, fifteen year old James Potter could only wait five weeks after the breakup before asking Lily Evans out (the first time). The two were stuck with each other in a partner project in Potions one day in December, and Lily had her hair in two ribboned plaits down her shoulders, and her freckled nose was all pink in the drafty dungeon classroom, and her lips were puckered over a step she found disputable in the textbook, and the question slipped out almost on its own accord.

"So, Cherrytop, you wanna go out sometime?"

If Lily was surprised, she certainly didn't say so. In fact, she didn't say anything at all.

James cleared his throat. "Chers, are you ignoring me?"

"Oh, no," she said innocently, dumping the last of the Bubotuber juice into the cauldron. "I was simply pondering the multiple meanings of your unfortunately vague question. 'Go out…'" She faked confusion. "Go out? Out of the dungeon? Out of Hogwarts? Or were you aiming for an existential question, as in: do I want to escape the confines of a pureblood affirming society, or even life itself?"

"Evans," James said, trying to wring the exasperation out of his lowered voice. "You know what I mean."

And then the conspiratorial grin. "Oh…you mean…the famous James Potter, head Marauder, leading Chaser of the Gryffindor team, brilliant student, and excellent shag is asking me out on…a date?"

"Quit the facetiousness, Evans, I'm serious."

"Are you?" Lily said dryly, stirring the cauldron counterclockwise three turns. "Well, I'm not." She removed the ladle from the potion. "Professor, I think we've got our Euphoria Elixir just right," she called over to Slughorn, tugging down the sleeves of her rolled up blouse.

The pudgy man eagerly strode to his favorite pupil's desk. With a deep intake of breath, he judged the quality of the potion.

"Flawless as always, Lily," he beamed; the two had dropped the last name basis years ago. "Smells incredible. I'm rather tempted to take a shot or two myself."

"As long as you leave some for my dear partner Mr. Potter," she said, swinging her bag over her shoulder. "He'll need it more than you will."

Lily Evans did not saunter, but as James stared, shoulders tense, fists clenched tight as his first (but certainly not last) rejection strode out of class a whole twenty minutes before the bell, he couldn't help but think she came awfully close.

Fact:

James Potter did not take the Euphoria Elixir.

Perhaps, his fellow Marauders surmised, he had something to prove?

James, at this point, hated himself a little bit. Why couldn't he agree to a second date with the fit bird in his Astronomy class? Why couldn't he forget about the self-righteous redhead that skirted him day and night? Why was he inking the initials L.E. onto his History of Magic notes? Why couldn't put this five year crush behind him? Merlin, what was wrong with him?

Steps Taken to Get Over Lily Evans:

Dating Hannah Price (coincidentally, another redhead)

Asking Marlene McKinnon to Hogsmeade

Not asking Lily Evans out for the entire month of February

Banning the names "Lily," "Evans," and "Cherrytop" from all Marauder discussions

And you guessed it, reader— all these attempts brought fruitless results. It was only on the fateful day of May 3rd, 1976 that James Potter discovered the true secret of giving up on Lily Evans: loving her enough to let her go.

May 3rd, 1976:

It may sound familiar to you.

Picture this: an afternoon on the shores of the Black Lake, filled with students flitting in and out of the warming sun.

Note the Marauders lounging under the shade of a birch tree. James is releasing and catching a snitch languidly in the shade, thinking about the upcoming Slytherin versus Gryffindor game and the waxing moon that was to taking its toll on a certain werewolf friend of his.

Enter a Severus Snape, straightening out his rumpled robes from his studying in the grass.

James: "All right there, Snivellus?"

Snape reacts instantly with a shout of: "Expelliarmus!"

James beats him to it with: "Impedimenta!"

And suddenly Snape is cringing on the ground. A dramatic brief pause ensues, in which James revels in the crowd he is creating. He's been doted on his entire life, by his parents, by his friends, by his classmates— it comes as an expectation now.

James: "How'd the exam go, Snivelly?"

Sirius (with a cheeky grin): "I was watching him, his nose was touching the parchment. There'll be great grease marks all over it, they won't be able to read a word."

Another staged pause followed, to allow the laughter to rise and ebb with its natural flow.

Snape: "You—wait. You— wait…"

Sirius: "Wait for what?"

Snape: A list of curses so appalling that would surprise you, reader.

James, amused but unaffected, retaliates: "Wash out your mouth. Scourgify!"

Enter a flushed Lily Evans. She's had it up to her head in James Jonathan Potter and it's about time he knew it.

Lily (with force): "Leave him ALONE!"

And James does.

Lily: "Leave him alone. What's he done to you?"

Thrown off guard in front of his peers, James reaches for his favorite defense mechanism, sarcasm, admitting: "Well, it's more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean."

Lily, anything but amused, snaps through her teeth: "You think you're funny, but you're just an arrogant, bullying toerag, Potter. Leave him alone."

James (predictably): "I will if you go out with me, Evans. Go on, go out with me, and I'll never lay a wand on old Snivelly again."

He knows the answer before it leaves her tongue. He knows she's too good for him, and that she will always be too good for him, and that his forward antics and overconfident personality will never win her heart, but he's too selfish and too careless and too lazy to change for her, so this is what he has resorted to. Playground pestering.

There were two boys in Lily Evans' life.

One chose to grow up for her,

And the other did not;

she chose the former.

Lily proclaims with all the ferocious derision she can pack into her naturally kind mouth: "I wouldn't go out with you if it was a choice between you and the giant squid!"

Sirius: "Bad luck, mate."

Reenter Snape, who was stumbled back onto his feet with the blackness of hate contorting his features.

There is a hex.

There is blood on James' forehead.

And there is a counterattack.

James has Snape at wandpoint again, and the boy is hanging upside down, his sad grey underpants and sad white legs there for the whole crowing crowd to deride.

Lily won't have it: "Let him down!"

James: "Certainly."

Snape crumples to the ground, a quick Locomotor Mortis by Sirius keeping him there for a spell.

Lily (whipping out her wand in a fresh wave of fury): "Leave him alone!"

James hesitates. He's taking it too far— why can't he ever stop when he takes it too far? Trying to maintain good humor for the sake of the onlookers, he sighs: "Ah, Evans, don't make me hex you."

Lily: "Take the curse off him then."

James, muttering a countercurse: "There you go. You're lucky Evans was here, Snivellus."

And then comes the moment all three of them would deeply regret for years and years to come. Snape, feeling cornered and alone and pushed by Potter and pushed by Mulciber and Avery and pushed into the Dark Circle, flails for a source of power. And it comes in the form of betrayal, betrayal of the one he holds the most dear: "I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!"

Lily's throat constricts. He's done it then. They've been drifting and drifting and he's been receding deeper and deeper into the parts of himself that she fears most and she's been waiting and dreading and hoping but now it's too late. He's crossed the line. And something in Lily Amelia Evans snaps. She doesn't know "Sev" anymore, and in a moment of wanton desire, seeks to alienate him entirely. And so she says, bitterly, icily: "Fine. I won't bother in the future. And I'd wash your pants if I were you, Snivellus."

And that's that. Something is snapping inside of James Potter, too.

James: "Apologize to Evans!"

Is this his fault, he can't help but wonder?

Lily: "I don't want you to make him apologize. You're as bad as he is…"

James won't take that. He would never hurt her, would never want to make her miserable—

But isn't that what he's done just now? By pushing her away from Snape?

James says (to save his precious image): "What? I'd never call you a— you-know-what!"

Lily lets all her hurt, all her pent up frustrations run loose as she regards the boy with crooked smile: "Messing up your hair because you think it looks cool to look like you've just got off your broomstick, showing off with that stupid Snitch, walking down corridors and hexing anyone who annoys you just because you can — I'm surprised your broomstick can get off the ground with that fat head on it. You make me SICK."

She doesn't feel better after she's said it, though. Actually, she doesn't feel better for quite some time.

They were all miserable afterward.

Snape was numb for a while. It didn't surprise him, what he did— he'd ruined so much already, dug himself in too deep— but this did not lessen his self-disgust in the least. So he had lost the girl he loved, loved since day one in the summer grass with the sun and time on his side. It made his job easier now, he told himself.

He didn't cry.

She didn't either. She had cried when Tuney dismissed her with a twisted mouth and cruel word. That was when the name calling had begun, and it certainly hadn't let up since. Her skin was tougher now; her skin was iron; her skin was steel. They called her freak and ginger and teacher's pet and virgin and Mudblood, and why shouldn't they?

It didn't matter.

It couldn't matter.

And so as Bex rubbed the small of Lily's back and Mary stroked her fingertips, she breathed out and the tears stayed in.

Did you know?

Everyone forgets about James,

but he was miserable too.

"So what if she compared you to the Giant Squid?" Sirius said, laughter dancing in his dark eyes. "She wasn't too far off, y'know."

James mustered a chuckle in response, but his friend recognized its phoniness in a heartbeat.

"She's rejected you before, Prongs," he said softly. "What makes this time any different?"

"I'm done," James finally replied. He was pleased at the way the two words slipped out, that the hoarseness was imperceptible in his voice.

"Done?"

"I'm done with Lily Evans."

Sirius snorted, folding his legs under him from where he sat across from James on the dormitory bed. "Yeah, mate, you've been saying that since second year."

"I mean it," James said somberly. "She doesn't matter anymore."

"Doesn't matter? Doesn't matter! Prongs, are you out of your bloody mind?" Sirius shouted, utterly baffled. "You mean I've put up with your schoolboy pining and melodramatic angst and idle staring for five years for nothing?"

"Yeah."

"Just 'yeah?'"

"Yes, Padfoot. You should be rejoicing right now. No more talk of Lily Amelia Evans."

Sirius was beginning to believe him now, and he didn't like it one bit. "Merlin, Prongs. I'm sorry."

James swallowed, hard. He didn't know how to vocalize the myriad of thoughts scattered about his head, flying at him in little jagged pieces. He didn't know how to say that he'd done enough damage, pushed her to her breaking point, attacked her friend, left her as collateral damage, and needed to back out now before he ruined her life even more. See, James Jonathan Potter was in love with Lily Evans, and he was pretty damn sure she was better off without him.

But James didn't say any of this. Instead, he punched his hand against the wall, as a hard as he could. He drew it back, all bruised and broken and battered, and slammed it into the wall again.

"To hell with her anyway," he finally managed, voice breaking, as dark liquid from his knuckles oozed down his arm.

And James Jonathan Potter did not utter another word to Lily Amelia Evans for the rest of fifth year.

More to come soon. Review and tell me what you think.

Jess