Disclaimer: I know I don't own anything, and you know I don't own anything. Okay?

Playing the Lottery

When I was a child, I loved to scratch lottery tickets. I loved the idea of scratching off the surface to uncover something infinitely more interesting, scratching off the drab, blank, grey part to discover something colourful and important underneath. My favourite game was Bingo. I loved the excitement as I scratched off numbers. I loved the anticipation of noticing that I only needed one number to complete a line and wondering if maybe, just maybe I might win this time.

My mom was addicted to scratch tickets. She bought them at least once a week when I was growing up, and some of my fondest memories include sitting on the couch with her beside the fire while she scratched tickets. She'd poke my nose fondly and say, "Blow on the ticket, Lily. You're my good luck charm." I'd always be happy to oblige. Petunia never got to be the good luck charm; that was always my job, and it was one that I was immensely proud of.

Most times I would sit with her and try to be lucky, but once in a while, she'd hand me the penny and let me scratch, and whether it was a box, or two, or the whole ticket, it always made my eyes light up with delight. I would scratch each box meticulously, wanting to savour the moment. As long as there was something left to scratch, I hadn't lost.

My mom played scratch tickets because she wanted to win the big prize. I'm not sure if she really expected to, but she never did. She won all sorts of various prizes, but never the top one. She never gave up on me being lucky, though, and that made me feel special. It didn't matter if I couldn't win her lots of money, because she loved me anyway.

At any rate, it was never about winning the money for me. Money just wasn't important. My mom may have scratched tickets because she wanted to get rich quick, but I did it only for the fun. I didn't want to win something, I just wanted to win.

Then I turned eleven, and I got my Hogwarts letter. I went away to school, so I didn't get to spend such moments with my mom anymore. At first I missed them, but gradually they became distant memories shoved to the back of my mind to make room for spells and potions recipes and information about past wizards and magical creatures.

Sometime amidst my growing up, I finally learned the concept of the lottery, and I came to loathe the idea of it. My mom still played scratch tickets faithfully, but I didn't want any part of it anymore. Every summer I would watch her play them, but I refused to be her good luck charm anymore, and I often told her what I thought of the whole concept. I hated that people would risk what they had on the off chance that they might end up with more. I hated that it went in the face of earning money the old fashioned way and spending it only on the things that mattered. I hated the idea that it instilled in people that you couldn't be happy unless you were rich. And I hated what it did to people.

I was now in my seventh year, and I was sitting by the fire in the Gryffindor common room, having just returned to Hogwarts from Christmas holiday. Many people had not arrived back yet, so the common room was fairly empty, and I didn't really notice the few people who were there because I was lost in thought. I was thinking about Christmas, remembering fondly how little Petunia and I had fought, how much the decorations had reminded me of my childhood, how much fun I had singing Christmas carols with my family. Suddenly I remembered the odd present that my mother had given me, and wondering if I had it anymore, I stuck my hand in my pocket. Sure enough, it was still there.

There had, of course, been the standard presents: music, movies, and clothes – the usual. But after everything had been opened, breakfast eaten, and wrapping paper cleaned up, there had been an extra special surprise. I was putting on some Christmas music when something caught my eye: a simple white envelope fitted snugly between the needles of the Christmas tree, contrasting with multicoloured ornaments, many of which had been made by Petunia or me.

I stared at it, wondering what it could be, but after a few moments without any ideas, I glided toward the tree and gently pulled it out. "Lily" was written in beautiful cursive that I immediately recognized as my mothers. I threw her a questioning glance, but she merely looked at me knowingly and told me to open it.

I carefully opened the envelope, revealing a single Bingo ticket. I rolled my eyes before I could stop myself, and I heard my mom laugh. I looked up at her, unable to hide my confusion. She didn't seem at all distressed at my lack of enthusiasm, however. She simply sent me a cheeky smile and proceeded to the kitchen to start dinner.

I stared at the ticket in my hand, trying to understand why she would have given it to me. She knew how I felt about them these days. I wondered if it might be because she missed the times that we used to spend together, but I had a hunch that that wasn't it, especially since she never asked me to blow on her scratch tickets anymore, and she seemed to find my disdain for them amusing rather than disappointing.

The idea crossed my mind that she was trying to teach me some sort of lesson, in the infuriating way that only she could, but I was not up for the challenge of trying to figure it out, trying to interpret her odd puzzle. Finally I gave up and stuffed the ticket in the pocket of my jeans, resolving to figure it out later – or not; it didn't really matter.

And now, sitting by the fire, I stared absentmindedly at the ticket, still unscratched, still in the same condition as ever, if a little bent from being in my pocket. I was so deep in thought that I was startled when I heard someone sneeze, and I looked up to see James Potter sitting beside me. He gave me a smile and offered a "Hi, Lily."

"Hey," I replied. "I didn't notice you sit down."

"You seemed pretty lost in thought. I didn't want to interrupt."

This statement served to remind me of how much James had changed this year, and how much better I liked him for it. He was my co-head, and surprisingly, I couldn't have been happier with Dumbledore's choice.

"How was your Christmas?" I asked

"Really good. Sirius came home with me."

"Your poor mother."

He laughed. "Yeah, well, it was a little chaotic, but Sirius is like part of the family, and my parents love him, insanity and all."

I smiled at him, and he smiled back. I didn't really have anything to say, but that was okay because it was a comfortable silence, and quite possibly it made me like him even more.

"So, what have you got there that has you so distracted?" he asked me after a while.

"It's a scratch ticket."

"A what?"

"A scratch ticket. It's a muggle thing. You buy them and then you scratch them and if you get a certain combination of numbers or letters or whatever, you can win a prize. I used to scratch them all the time with my mom when I was younger, but we stopped when I came to Hogwarts. This one was part of my Christmas present."

"Can I see it?" he asked.

"Sure," I replied, handing it to him. "Most people like them because they like the idea of getting rich quick, of spending a few pounds and winning thousands, but I only ever liked them because it's fun and exciting to scratch them. I don't care about the money, and I can't even stand the lottery anymore. I actually don't even know why my mom gave it to me. She knows what my attitude is toward them now. I don't like the idea of risking what you have on the off chance of increasing it. I don't think it's worth losing what you already have when it could be put to better use. As you can probably tell, I'm not much of a gambler."

"I don't know," he reflected. I kind of like the idea of gambling. It's sort of like life. You never really get anything worth having if you aren't willing to take a risk."

He handed it back to me, and I considered it for a moment. I supposed that the only sensible thing to do would be to scratch it. Maybe then I would figure out what my mother meant by giving to me. I looked up at him. "Will you be my good luck charm?" I asked. He looked at me inquisitively, so I clarified, "Blow on it." He did so, and I took it back, pulled a penny from my pocket and began to scratch.

We remained mostly silent, save for some sporadic small talk. Then suddenly I scratched off a box and realized that I had made a new line. "Oh!" I exclaimed.

"What?" he asked. "Did you win something?"

"10 pounds," I replied.

He grinned. "Wow, I guess I really am good luck!" I rolled my eyes and he laughed.

"I better go," he said after a few moments. "Remus should be getting back in a few minutes. I'll see you later, Lily."

I nodded and watched him go. Funnily enough, James Potter reminded me a lot of a lottery ticket. I could no longer deny that I liked him, that accepting a date with him was tempting. But I was afraid. I didn't want to be disappointed if it didn't work out. I didn't want to be disappointed if he went out with me once and then dumped me. I didn't want to play the game, because I didn't want to be disappointed if I didn't win.

But one conversation had completely changed the way I had been thinking lately. And I smiled now, seeing James greet his friend and help him bring his stuff up to their dormitory. I laughed as he discreetly pointed his wand at Remus' back and turned his hair pink, and it reminded me that James was not the only one who had changed.

He still played pranks on people, but no longer to humiliate them. His pranks were more light-hearted now, and they were meant to give everyone a laugh, including the victim. So he had changed, but I had changed too. I now found his pranks amusing rather than infuriating, and the way he ran his fingers through his hair was endearing, not annoying. In short, I had gone absolutely insane, but I didn't mind it one bit.

I stood up and stretched, getting ready to head to my own dormitory when suddenly James came running toward me. "Hide me!" he pleaded as he dashed behind me, and then I saw Remus running toward me too. Apparently, he had noticed his hair and had decided that payback was in order.

"No way," I said, stepping out of the way. "You're on your own."

"But…" James started, but he didn't get to finish because I had burst out laughing. As soon as I had gotten out of the way, Remus had not wasted any time: James' nose was about two feet long and covered in warts. Satisfied, Remus smiled and then climbed up the stairs to his dormitory. Meanwhile, James still couldn't figure out what he had done.

"Is it my hair?" he asked frantically, pulling on it and trying to see it to no avail. "Please tell me it's not my hair."

Finally having calmed down, I replied, "No, it's not your hair, you big baby."

"What is it, then?"

I conjured a mirror and handed it to him, laughing at the expression on his face when he saw himself.

"I'm going to kill him."

"He was just trying to get you back," I pointed out. "Besides, I kind of think it becomes you."

He gave me an incredulous look and I smiled.

I knew what I wanted to do right now, but it would take a lot of courage, courage that I wasn't sure I possessed. It would be a gamble, and wasn't I completely against gambling? But my heart won the fight with my brain, and the words came out of my mouth before I could even consider leaving them unsaid.

"So, um, did you know that this coming weekend is a Hogsmeade weekend?" I asked.

"Yeah. It's kind of weird, being the first weekend after we get back from Christmas and all, but that's okay because I'm really craving some butterbeer and I need to buy some…"

I sighed inwardly. I had known it was a long shot, had known that he wouldn't take the bait, but I was still disappointed. I was hoping that I could avoid this. I took a deep breath and then interrupted him, "James."

"Yeah?"

"Um, I was wondering if you'd like to go with me."

He stared at me blankly, so I closed my eyes and continued, "As a date."

When I opened my eyes, he was still staring at me blankly, and it was making me nervous, so I looked down at my shoes and chickened out. "Never mind. It was a stupid idea; I shouldn't have suggested it. Just forget…"

"Are you mad? Of course I want to go with you, Lily."

I looked back up at him and he was beaming at me. I blushed lightly, but I didn't break his gaze.

"Okay."

"I'll meet you here at 10 on Saturday then?"

"That sounds good," I replied. I'll have to thank my mother for the lottery ticket I mused.

We just stood there in a comfortable silence for a few moments, until I broke his gaze and turned away. I stopped in front of the stairs and called over my shoulder, "Oh and James."

"Yeah?"

"Do try and fix your nose by then. As much as I like it, I wouldn't want it to get in the way when you kiss me goodnight."

I could tell by the look on his face that he was shocked at my audacity, and I ascended the stairs with the image of him with his mouth hanging open engraved in my mind.

As I lay in bed that night, I stared at the ceiling, James' words echoing in my head – You never really get anything worth having if you aren't willing to take a risk. He was right, I decided before turning over and drifting off to sleep. I still don't like the lottery, but maybe in some senses gambling isn't so bad.

Because some things are just worth the risk.

A/N: Thanks to those who reviewed my one-shot "A Promise Made". I purposely left it open for a one-shot sequel, but I don't know if I'm going to write it because I haven't really had any inspiration. I don't want to write a predictable "James gets hurt and comes back nearly dead but just pulls through and they live happily ever after." So if I can think of something else, I'll write it. These things tend to come to me on a whim. Anyway, thanks again.