I wanted a Lily/James story where James was dashingly handsome, Lily was stunningly beautiful and they had a love/hate relationship that didn't take three hundred chapters to resolve. I hope I've succeeded.
Enjoy.
Disclaimer: I don't own Lily, James, the Marauders, Hogwarts and other various things you may recognize from JK Rowling's Harry Potter series. Please don't think I'm trying to steal her ideas; she's a brilliant woman and I love her writing, I'm just having a little fun.
Lily sat down on the couch in the joint Heads' Common Room and stared miserably at the fire. She had always considered Hazyl an ally, but it seemed that she, too, thought Lily liked James. Were they missing something? Had they blocked out all those times Lily had complained about James? Had they forgotten them, already? Maybe I'm making too big a deal out of it, Lily thought.
"Hey, Lily." James opened the door.
"Go away," Lily said. "I want privacy."
"How about your room?" James asked, "I always thought that was a pretty private place. Unless there's something I don't know."
"House-elves haven't made the fire up yet," Lily replied. "So it's too cold to sit in there. Why? Do you mind?"
"If you're going to be sitting here, then you can talk to me," James said gently, and Lily was surprised to realize that he sounded sincere. In fact, he sounded like a human being for once and that left her quite speechless.
It was only after a hesitation that she replied, "We have nothing to discuss."
"Lily!" James said with a smile. "I hope you got my letter."
"Maybe." Lily shrugged. "That doesn't mean I'll go with you."
"Than what means you'll go with me?"
"James Potter," Lily began, "you are absolutely nothing but a mere pinprick in my life that will eventually pushed aside by things far better and kinder. Just because I had to spend seven years of my life with you is no reason to consider yourself, in any way, my hero, crush, boyfriend or otherwise. Do you understand?"
"God, Lily. What do you want from me?" James pushed his dark hair away from his forehead. "I'm not Superman. I can't be Mr. Perfect, now can I? But I'm willing to try at least, which is more than you can say."
"You're always insulting me," Lily said stiffly. "The ball – if we ever finish it – is going to be a pretty spectacular night and there is absolutely no way I'm going to spend it with some bozo who thinks he rules the planet!"
"You know how many girls would die for that invitation?" James asked angrily.
"Do I care? That's all you think about: how people see you. And then you assume that because a few see you as some Quidditch god, the rest of us do to! That's not how the world works, Potter. Get a grip."
"Look, Lily, I'm sorry." James didn't take the bait. Lily sat there, for a minute, wondering if he hadn't heard the 'get a grip' or if he just didn't care. If he really wanted to go to the ball with her.
"Do you honestly think that you can convince me?" Lily asked. "Who's to say that you won't dump me for some shapely blonde? Or that this isn't a bet? Or that you want some favor, like that Transfiguration homework you keep failing? I know your track record, Potter, and I'm sorry, but I'm declining. End of story."
"Give me a chance," James pleaded. "One night, that's all I want, and then I can show you that you're wrong."
"Come off it," Lily said. "We can't even plan the ball without argument. I stand by my answer."
"You're too uptight," James said, after a moment's hesitation. "You need to have a little bit of fun, maybe, play around with some new ideas. When was the last time you stopped thinking about exams and went out with a guy? And I promise, I wouldn't dump you for a shapely blonde."
"I went out with a guy last year," Lily said primly, pulling her shiny red hair into a ponytail. "Amos Diggory and it wasn't really pleasant. He's a snob, much like you, and I'd rather go stag. Anyway, we have to make sure things are running smoothly during the ball."
"Even better," James said easily. "I'd hate to have to leave my date constantly to check up on things – we could do it together and nobody would be left alone."
"It's not a business relationship!" Lily stood up. "I don't believe I'll go to the ball, Potter, so invite your ditzy fifth-year. I don't care!"
"Lily, can I say something?" James took a deep breath. "I've liked you for a long time – I've told you before – and I really, really want you to give me this chance to prove that I'm serious."
"I don't know why I should trust you," Lily replied curtly. "Every opportunity you tease me and laugh at me and call me names. My god, James, we're supposed to be examples for the rest of the school – top students, all honors – and you go and make us appear like first years, squabbling over some jinxed homework. Quite frankly, I don't know why you even bothered to ask me out."
"Because I like you!" James said helplessly.
"Let's end this conversation," Lily said firmly. "We keep coming back to the same subject and I've already said several times: the answer is no! I will not go to the ball with you. Good night." And, smiling politely, she walked into her now-toasty room to forget all about Potter.
James was decidedly pathetic next to Lily. He came to that conclusion late at night, still in the Head's Common Room, trying to finalize plans for the ball. He sent letters to a famous pianist-flute-violin trio asking to book them for the ball, ordered the tree and mistletoe and made quite certain that there were plenty of lilies arranged for the table displays. Even though the Heads' budget did not cover flowers (it was December, after all) James pulled a bit of his birthday money from last year and arranged them quite easily. He wrote up a menu based on Lily's suggestion and sent it on its way to the house-elves. He sent a finalized plan to Dumbledore.
All that was left was Lily's reaction.