Disclaimer: Anything/one you recognize herein belongs to the amazing J.K Rowling, I'm simply borrowing for my amusement. And sometimes yours.

Chapter Twenty One

If Lily had been expecting James's interest in the mystery redhead from the platform to have fizzled out by the next morning, she was woefully mistaken. And if she had held onto any hope it wouldn't last more than a few days, with no discernable leads to follow and nary a sighting, she would have been doubly wrong.

If anything, it only seemed to strengthen his resolve.

James was constantly on the lookout, scanning the crowded corridors between lessons and the filled tables in the Great Hall during mealtimes. He'd even taken to hanging around the library in his free time in hopes of catching her there, until a suspicious Madame Pince, unconvinced James wasn't up to some nefarious scheme involving one of her books, had finally banned him. And then subsequently Peter, who had been the only one of James's mates who'd agreed to take over for him. Poor Peter had been chased all the way up to Gryffindor tower by a copy of Hogwarts, A History thumping him around the head.

Lily tried her best to dissuade James from his newfound fancy, to no avail so far.

"But what does it matter if you do find her?" Lily asked again, as she and James strolled the dimly lit corridor of the third floor on their nightly patrol that evening, "It's not as if you're in a position to do anything-"

"I just want to know who she is," said James, his shoulders slumped with the disappointed frustration at yet another day come to an end with no such luck. "I just want to know I didn't bloody imagine her."

"Perhaps you did though," said Lily, offhandedly seizing upon the idea.

"What?"

James frowned at her in confusion.

"Well," said Lily slowly, thinking quickly, "It's possible Davies cast a hallucination spell on you. He could be attempting to lead you astray and break us up. We're only a little over a month away from the deadline now. He could be resorting to dirty tricks," she finished more persuasively.

"Seems a bit far fetched to me..." replied James dubiously.

"I wouldn't put it past him," she warned sensibly but James shook his head.

"Even if he was that clever," he said, "I don't reckon he's got the magical ability to pull off a spell that strong."

Lily wracked her brain for other means of discouraging him.

"Have you considered that this girl might already have a boyfriend?" she asked abruptly. "Could be the jealous type...A big, strapping bloke... Not the sort you'd want to mess with."

"I suppose she could," said James slowly, though still sounding less than convinced, giving Lily an odd sidelong look she ignored. "I'll have you know, though Evans," he added, voice turning dry, "I have tussled with a fair few blokes in my time."

"Oliver Cornice doesn't count," she retorted, "He was scrawnier twelve year old than you."

"I was never scrawny," protested James indignantly.

"I was a head taller than you until fourth year," she reminded him.

"When I broke Cooke Lovington's nose when he was in sixth," said James, puffing up.

"And your thumb," smirked Lily, "Remember? You cried."

"I didn't cry-"

"I distinctly recall-"

"I might've teared up a bit," James allowed, deflating slightly, "But that was it. It bloody hurt," he muttered.

Lily snickered.

"McGonagall pitied you so much she didn't even scold you."

James lifted his chin defiantly.

"Maybe she just agreed with me Cooke Lovington deserved a punch in the nose," he said airily.

"Maybe," echoed Lily, still smiling slightly.

Rounding a corner, they passed into the Armoury. A long stretch of gallery that housed full suits of empty armor, several of which saluted to them as Lily and James walked by.

"Seriously though, James," said Lily taking another stab at it, "I know you don't take rejection well but don't you reckon it's time to just move on. Plenty of fish in the sea and all that."

"Not like her," said James so staunchly that Lily rolled her eyes.

"You know better than anyone there are plenty of pretty girls at Hogwarts."

"It's not that," he said.

Lily rose a skeptical eyebrow.

"Isn't it?"

"No-"

"So you were just waxing poetic on the train about her hair and eyes because...?"

"I'm not saying I didn't find her attractive," said James, "I just meant it's more than that. She's not like those other girls. She was -"

"Different, special, intriguing," Lily supplied, dismissively, "Yes, yes, I remember."

"Well she was," he insisted. "You weren't there. You don't understand-"

"You just think that because she wasn't batting her eyelashes at you and giggling," Lily argued, "Mind you, I've never done those things and you've seen no reason to go to mooning over me because of it. So I fail to see how this isn't all just based on a simple physical attraction, which brings us back to my point-"

Before Lily had a chance to make it again though, James cut in.

"Is that was this is about?" He was frowning thoughtfully, almost to himself, as though working something out. "I mean, I know Sirius was only joking when he said it but...you aren't...are you?" He looked at Lily cautiously.

"Aren't what?" she demanded, impatient by the interruption.

"Jealous," said James hesitantly, as though afraid of the answer.

Lily stopped walking and folded her arms, turning on James to survey him coolly.

"You know," she said, "I know how to throw a punch without breaking a thumb."

Contrary to the threat, a look of mild relief passed over his face.

"What's all this talk about then?" he asked, "Why does it matter if I want to moon over -"

"Because it's just a waste of time!" Lily snapped exasperatedly.

"It is my time, though," James pointed out calmly.

"Fine, then," said Lily tetchily, temper flaring, "If you're so keen to go on wasting it, so be it. You go ahead and carry on then. Only don't come sulking to me in the end," she tossed at him spitefully, lifting her nose, "I wouldn't want to be the one to have to tell you I was right."

"Of course not," quipped James. Then, after a beat, "Are you sure you're not the least bit -Woah!"

He only just managed to duck Lily's fist.

"You missed," he pointed out smugly, quickly recovering from the surprise swing.

"No," said Lily smiling sweetly, "That was your second warning."

xxx

Although Lily was quite certain James had only been purposely winding her up with that last little dig about jealousy, in the days that followed, he all but ceased further mentionings of the redhead to her and evaded every attempt she made to broach the subject. Lily knew it because he just didn't want to hear any more of her disparaging remarks. It was hard to be left in the dark, though, with no insights into what harebrained schemes James was plotting up.

Logically, Lily knew there wasn't really much he could find out. She was the only person who knew of her real identity, after all. The most James could do was exhaust himself fruitlessly searching.

Still, she didn't like it.

James Potter had proven himself, if nothing else, good at causing Lily needless trouble since the moment she'd first met him.

Then, exactly ten days after the whole thing began, it looked as if it could finally be coming to a close.

"Maybe you're right," James said morosely, "Maybe she doesn't exist."

He'd just plopped himself down at the Gryffindor table, late to lunch, and dropped his head in his hands.

"I swear to Merlin, I've searched the face of every redhead girl in this bloody castle now and none of them are her," he said, with dejected frustration, speaking to the table.

"Bad luck, mate," said Sirius, spearing a chip with his fork.

"Maybe she's just hiding," Peter offered comfortingly to his friend.

James looked up.

Lily, who'd been busy trying to hide her hopeful glee that perhaps James was finally giving up, had a sudden, strong urge to box Peter's ears.

"Why would she do that?" asked James, perplexed.

"Well," said Sirius, "from what you've told us, it doesn't seem this girl was much keen on you."

James ignored him.

"How could she be hiding?" he wondered.

"Maybe she's got an invisibility cloak too!" exclaimed Peter excitedly, as the thought struck him.

The other boy immediately shushed him, in a perfunctory, not entirely concerned way, as though Peter often blurted out things he shouldn't in the company of others. Peter flushed guiltily and glanced around to see if any of the other Gryffindors sitting near them had taken notice. It didn't appear they had.

"You don't necessarily need a cloak to hide though," pointed out Remus, sensibly, "There are a number of spells and charms that would do the job well enough. Even a few potions."

"Could be disguising herself," tossed in Sirius.

Lily stiffened.

"If she were hiding from me somehow," James said slowly, frowning thoughtfully, "that means she'd have to know I was looking for her."

"James," Lily cut in quickly, working to keep her tone even, "think rationally. Hogwarts is a big school. There's no possible way to know you've seen all the -"

"It's not exactly a common hair color though, is it?" he cut in.

"The real question is," Sirius went on, most unhelpfully, "who'd be desperate enough to go through all the trouble just to get away from you?"

James appeared to be mulling that over.

"James," Lily snapped, "you're not seriously considering any of this rubbish, are you? You do realize how mad it sounds? I mean, really, the whole idea is just ludicrous. It's more likely that you're not just remembering her correctly. It's been over a week now, and you only spent a short time together."

James shrugged, falling back into his previous gloom.

"I'm willing to consider anything at this point," he shrugged.

xxx

Lily spent the rest of the day distracting James from thinking about the conversation at lunch.

She chatted with him about Quidditch, the first practice session with the Gryffindor team was on Saturday. She brainstormed ideas with him on decorations for Valentine's day they could propose at next week's Prefects meeting. Some of which he'd come up with were surprisingly good. So much so that she reckoned they should actually decorate the castle for Valentine's day with the Prefects this year. She discussed with him an article in the Daily Prophet she'd read yesterday morning about a strange illness that was affecting Muggles in the Far East and the theories it could somehow be linked to Voldemort.

She may have even played it a bit fast and loose with the Venemous Tentacula plant they repotted in Herbology. She hadn't been aiming to seriously poison James of course. She'd only been thinking to perhaps cause a visit to the infirmary and maybe an overnight stay or two. She'd only wanted him sufficiently preoccupied long enough to buy her a little time to think of a way to sort things out.

Unfortunately, perhaps owing to James's Seeker reflexes, he had managed to escape unharmed. Lily, on the other hand, had gotten a sound telling off from Professor Sprout for her clumsy carelessness. Much to James's amusement.

As Lily lay in bed later that evening, she considered the likelihood she had of getting her hands on a Time-Turner. Just a few turns of the sandy hourglass and she could go back and make sure she'd avoid the whole mess of running into James on the platform. Of course, Time-Turners were a heavily guarded magical instrument by the Ministry. One needed special permission to acquire them. Somehow, she didn't reckon she'd be granted access for her particular needs.

Memory charms, on the other hand, needed no such approval. They were however banned at Hogwarts. She would definitely face expulsion if caught performing one. If, being the operative word...But no, memory charms, though she was a highly skilled charmer, were tricky bits of magic. One little flick of the wrist too far and she could erase a lot more than just their chance encounter. Despite all her threats against James, she didn't actually want to cause him serious harm. Not the long-lasting sort, anyway.

That really only left one solution. It was, perhaps, even madder than the others. She honestly wasn't sure what she was even doing considering it. She just knew she had to do something.

xxx

"Good practice everyone! Excellent, in fact. We're going to have no problem defeating Ravenclaw in the match next month I'm certain of it," James confidently told the assembled Gryffindor Quidditch team before him. "Especially now that Kenneth's got both eyes firmly on the bludgers, instead of a certain Chaser of ours. Seeing as he gets to moon over her off the pitch these days," he added slyly.

Bonnie gave her boyfriend a fond look as he blushed bright red and the rest of the team laughed and catcalled them good-naturedly.

"Alright, I'll see you all next week. Same place, same time," James finished, dismissing the team. "I'm going to stay out for a bit. Fly around," he said to Sirius.

"Don't stay out too late, Prongs. You know how Mooney worries," Sirius tsked, shouldering his broomstick.

As the rest of the team headed back for the castle, James mounted his broom once more and kicked off the frozen ground into the air.

He'd only been zooming around the quiet pitch for a short while, performing a few flips and tricks, weaving in and out of the goalposts, when he noticed something far down below. Someone was standing in the middle of the snow-covered ground, watching him.

Idly, he wondered if one of the opposing Quidditch teams had sent a spy around. A pretty shoddy one, just standing out in the open like that, he noted wryly. Directing his broom back downward, James started making his way over to meet them. It was as he about halfway there a gust of icy wind came and James caught a flash of red hair pulled along in the breeze.

He faltered. Then, hardly daring to believe it, urged his broom faster, coming to hovering stop just above where she stood.

"Hi," she greeted.

It was her. The girl from the train. She was wearing a woolen cap pulled down low and her cheeks were pink from the cold. Her gloved hands were clasped in front of her, and she was standing a bit awkwardly, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"Hello," returned James.

"Good practice?" she asked pleasantly.

"It was," James confirmed, wondering if she had been there, watching from the sidelines the whole time. And how she had known that he was having practice in the first place?

"How's your foot?"

"Still working. Despite your efforts."

The girl glanced away, grimacing sheepishly.

"About that," she said, "I owe you an apology. Not just for running over your foot with my trolley, but for my poor behavior afterward as well. I'm afraid you caught me on a bad day." Her face pursed unhappily as she looked off in the distance, then flattened out to something more contrite as she looked back at him. "Still, that's no excuse to have taken my frustrations out on you," she said. "I do hope you'll forgive me, though?"

She blinked up at him from under her eyelashes, imploring him to accept her apologies.

It was a very compelling look.

"Well," said James, as though thinking it over, "you did very nearly cripple me. And you were quite rude about it. Implied it was my own fault, I seem to remember."

"Not one of my finer moments," she readily acknowledged.

"Not to mention," he went on, "you wouldn't even shake my hand, after I was gentlemanly enough to carry your trunk on board the train for you, even after all that. Just rushed me off, quick as you please..."

"I did say thank you," she pointed out lightly.

"You also lied to me," he reminded her, "Elizabeth. So, I'm afraid" He gave a regretful look "I have to say: I can't."

She stared at him.

"What?"

"Accept your apology," he clarified, feigning misunderstanding.

"Why not?" she demanded.

"Well, it's just as I've said. You weren't the nicest to me -"

"But I've apologized for all that!"

James shot her a look.

"Nearly a fortnight later. Bit overdue, don't you reckon? Mostly though," he said before she could further argue, "It just comes down the fact I just don't reckon a simple apology alone will suffice at this point."

The incensed expression she wore hardened.

"I see..." she said, stiffly, "And what more would you propose I do? Kiss the ouchie to make it better?" she threw at him scornfully.

James grinned.

"How about," he suggested, "you tell me your name. The real one this time."

"I don't see why that's of any importance," she sniffed, folding her arms.

"It's a common courtesy," said James. "And it seems only fair. Seeing as you know mine."

"Is it really appropriate to be chatting me up when you already have a girlfriend?" she accused chidingly.

"Chatting you up?" James echoed innocently. "Since when is asking a girl for her name chatting her up?"

"Since when is it not?" she challenged, raising an eyebrow.

James grinned again.

"Tell me," he said, tilting his head as he looked down at her, "did you really just come all the way out here and find me to apologize?"

She looked both suspicious and confused by this question.

"What are you suggesting?" she asked.

"It seems that I've been on your mind since our little run-in. I just wonder if maybe you didn't have some ulterior motive for finding me out."

"Such as?"

"Chatting me up, of course."

The girl gave him a flat look, as cool as the wintery January air.

"I've been feeling guilty, is all. I can assure you I'm well over it now though."

James threw back his head and laughed. Which seemed to be the last straw of her remaining patience.

"Look," she snapped, "I really did just want to apologize for what happened and fix whatever wrong impressions of myself I might've left for you, but I can see now this was just a mistake, so I'll just be on my way."

Turning on her heel, red hair whipping out behind her, the girl began to march away from James.

Coaxing his broom forward, he coasted beside her.

"Fancy a lift?"

She ignored him.

"Long walk in the cold."

"I don't fly," she tossed at him, waspishly.

"You won't be," James pointed out, "I will."

"I meant I prefer my feet on the ground, thanks."

"Are you coming to the next match?" He asked conversationally. "We're playing against Ravenclaw."

"I have better things to do on a Saturday afternoon than spending it freezing my arse off watching people play football in the air," she shot at him derisively.

"You're Muggleborn?" he observed, watching with interest as her face soured. He got the feeling she'd felt as if she'd let something slip with that.

"Is that a problem?" she demanded a moment later, regaining her bluster.

"No.," said James. "So, I take it then you don't care for Quidditch either?"

"Boring, pointless waste of time in my opinion," she affirmed spitefully.

"That's a shame," said James. "I rather enjoy it."

"I know," she said simply as if that somehow proved her point.

Which James rather reckoned was just to offend him.

Unfortunately for her, it was having the opposite effect. There was just something wholly enjoyable about her snide toward him. That didn't mean he about to just let her get away with it though.

In one smooth motion, James reached down, snagged an arm around her waist, and hauled her up, onto the back of his broom before she could so much as struggle.

"What the - put me down!" she shouted once she'd gotten over the initial shock.

"Better hold on or you'll slip off," James advised calmly.

"How dare -?!" the rest of her words were cut off by a shrill shriek, as James turned his broom up and shot them upward; he felt two hands quickly grab at his waist.

Once at a decent height up, James leveled off the broom and eased them back to a gentler speed, weaving lazily through the air.

"Alright back there?" he checked, angling his neck back to look behind him.

"You're lucky I can't curse you six ways from Sunday right now," she scowled, her face close to his.

She was perhaps even prettier up close. He could see every dusty brown freckle scattered across her nose, and the way her eyes glinted darker when she was angry.

"I'll take that as a yes," said James, turning back to face the air.

"What if I were afraid of heights? Bit of a nasty trick to pull don't you reckon?" she demanded.

"Are you afraid of heights?" he asked.

"Will you put me down if I say yes?"

"Something tells me someone so fierce wouldn't be so easily frightened by such a thing as that," he replied.

"That's a pretty bold theory for someone to have about a stranger," she returned.

"We're not strangers."

He felt her shift slightly against his back.

"Aren't we?"

"No," said James, "I don't reckon we are. I mean," he added, "we have met once before, after all. And you knew who I was so you must know me -"

"Or of you. You do have a reputation that precedes you, you know," she injected pointedly.

"All good things, I'm sure," he said self-assuredly, taking the bite out of her sting.

The girl snorted.

"The only thing," James went on, as if there had been no interruption, "Is that I still don't know who you are."

She didn't respond right away.

"I'm no one of interest," she said finally.

"I disagree," said James.

"And I disagree with your disagreement."

"As do I."

"Well, at least we agree on something."

James laughed loudly at that.

"If you won't tell me your name," he said "will you at least me something about you? Like what house you're in?"

"Why don't you tell me what house you reckon I'm in?" she countered.

"Will you tell me if I guess right?"

"I won't tell you if you guess wrong."

James laughed again.

"How about what year you're in then?" he asked.

"Hasn't anyone ever told you it's rude to ask a lady her age?" she retorted primly.

"I'm pretty sure you're in sixth," shared James, "so really you'd just be confirming if that's right more than telling me, but, still. I mean, if you were in seventh like me, we'd have had at least one lesson together and I'd have recognized you."

"Assuming, of course, you'd been paying attention. Perhaps we have and you'd just never noticed before," she said.

James shook his head.

"Not possible," he said. "I don't reckon I'd have had any choice in the matter. You just sort of demand it."

"Tell me," she said wonderingly, "how do you get girls? Certainly not with terrible lines like that."

"You'd be surprised. Also, I've heard girls like it when you're honest with them."

Another silence fell between them. He imagined she'd rolled her eyes.

"Why won't you answer any of my questions?" He asked finally, curiously. "And please," he added before she got the chance, "don't answer that with a question."

"Because I don't have to," came her simple response.

"It'd be kind of you, though," he returned.

"Despite what you might believe, you can't always get what you want," she informed him loftily.

"Despite what you might believe," said James, "I know that. I just usually do."

She huffed.

"How do you manage to get this broom off the ground with your fat head on it?"

James threw a wicked grin over his shoulder.

"Magic."

She actually laughed. A surprised cackle that caused his heart to skip a beat in joy.

"My mates reckon I've invented you, you know," he admitted, softly, smiling softening as he continued looking at her.

"And what do you reckon?" she asked, turning her face away.

"They could be right."

Her face remained blank.

"You reckon?"

"You just seem too ... good to be real, I suppose."

She rolled her eyes at his admission.

"Ugh. Spare me, please."

"I was serious, actually."

"Well, please stop then."

"Do you have a boyfriend?" he asked abruptly, thinking back on Lily's words from a few nights ago.

"You have a girlfriend," the girl reminded him pointedly. "Who I don't reckon would take too kindly to all this, would she?"

"Lily and I are ... complicated," said James for lack of better explanation. Not ones he could share, anyways.

The girl raised an eyebrow.

"And this would simplify things?"Her sardonic expression softened after a moment, "It's not going to happen, James."

Maybe it was the way she spoke. With a gentle, yet firm finality. Maybe it was the way she looked him straight in the eye. Maybe it was the something he couldn't quite place in them. Maybe it was all three that caused James to falter.

Still,

"Maybe not right now," he said, "But, someday...perhaps...possibly?"

She shook her head.

"No."

James sighed, his hopeful expression crumpling unhappily.

"Will you drop me off at the castle now?" the girl asked gently. "Or are we just going to keep flying in circles to stall for more time?" she quipped lightly.

James had indeed been flying them around aimlessly above the castle for a while now, while they talked.

"Just one last question," he said.

Not it was her turn to sigh.

"James-"

"Do you know Falcon Davies?"

Whatever she had been expecting, it had not been that. She looked completely thrown. At first. Then a guarded wariness seemed to settle over her face.

"Sorry?" she said, a beat too late.

He repeated the question.

"No," she answered, "I don't."

James considered her for a moment.

"Yeah, alright, then," he said not pressing the matter.

Slowly, he eased them back down. The girl hopped off the broom, onto the stone landing outside the heavy oak doors into the castle. She hesitated at the door.

"Thank you," she said grudgingly, toying with the handle.

"I'd say see you around, but I don't reckon that'll hold true."

She opened the door.

"Goodbye, James."

"See you," he said as the heavy oak doors closed behind her.

OK! Well! It's been a while. Like it always is, to be honest. If anyone's still here, following this story, I hope you enjoyed this new addition, especially if you're someone that needs a little pick me up right now.

Stay safe. And see you around.

- GoddessoftheMaan :)