The next year and a half was a very tense period of time between me and James Potter, as I'm sure you all remember (our frequent arguments were very public, and very loud).

Our feud had to have been in the top #10 famous feuds in history. We were up there with Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr. With King George and America. With people who like pineapple on their pizza, and people who don't.

Yeah. We were on that level.

I do have to admit, though, the fights weren't all bad. I mean, it was nice to finally have someone who was at my level of rapid-fire wit and insults. No one else I'd ever argued with before could challenge me to the same degree that James Potter could. He was an equal to me. Every debate with him felt like a test, and I was determined to beat him.

Then, he committed a war crime. He did something you never, ever do to your debate partner. He threw me off-guard. He distracted me.

He ASKED ME OUT.

I knew at once that it was a ploy to throw me off my game. After all, there was no other possible explanation for why he would suddenly pretend to fancy me. Which he obviously didn't. (Although, I should tell you that I've recounted this memory with James several times since then, and he's assured me that yes, he did, in fact, fancy me at the time. I'm still not buying it, though.)

Anyway. There we were, in the second floor corridor after Transfiguration, in the middle of another one of our heated debates (this one was about the practicality of quills), when suddenly, and without warning, he pinned me to a wall with both of his arms, making it impossible for me to escape. Now, I know what you're thinking - how sexy, right? - but NO! We were third years. We were barely 14. It was NOTHING like that.

"Okay, Evans," he said to me, grinning that stupid grin of his. "Forget the quills, okay? I have something else to talk to you about. Something important."

"I win," I said back to him.

"Huh?"

"The argument about quills," I explained. "You quit, so I win."

He stared at me for a moment, still smiling a bit, then shrugged. "Whatever. I think I'm still winning in the overall tally. Anyway - I have a business proposition for you."

My eyebrows shot up. "A business proposition? What kind of preposterous idea is this, Potter?"

"Let me paint the picture for you," James started, finally taking his arms off the walls and letting me free from my James Potter prison cell. "You see, Evans, I know that you and I have never exactly been on the best terms-"

"At least you're self-aware."

"-But I think we could be the next great romantic saga of this century."

At this moment, my mouth dropped open, and possibly hit the floor. "Excuse me?"

The bastard merely smirked. "Just think about it. You, me, Hogsmeade this weekend."

I think, at this point, I began to sputter incoherently for a few moments. Once I finally regained my voice, I spoke again. "Even if I said yes to this ridiculous offer - which I know is probably just another stupid prank of yours - we wouldn't be able to last two minutes together without fighting. Have you ever seen us, Potter? We hate each other!"

"We could become friends!" he countered.

I scoffed. "Not likely."

James gave a fake sounding, over dramatic sigh. "That's alright. I knew you'd say no. But I'll get you on board eventually."

"I would love to see you try."

"You'll regret saying that later, Evans, because I will try." And with that, he gave me a final, winning smile, and bounded back down the corridor.

Little did I know that that encounter was the first of at least 200 attempts from James Potter to ask me out. He was certainly true to his word - he did try, almost every day, in fact. It went from being funny, to being annoying, to finally pushing me to the brink of insanity.

I can't pretend I didn't love the attention that came with it, though. Girls all over Hogwarts were extremely jealous of me (apparently James Potter was a hot commodity. Who would have known?) Also, it changed me from being another random Muggleborn nerd that no one knew, to being "the sole object of James Potter's affections" (yes! People actually referred to me as that!)

I turned it into a sort of game - each time he'd ask me out, I'd try to come up with a more clever and witty way to refuse him. Simply saying "no" grew old after some time, and if he was going to humiliate me with all the offers, I was going to humiliate him with all the rejections.

Yes, ladies and gents, we were at WAR.

Although…

I suppose I did notice, after some time, that my rejections seemed to hurt him much more than they had before. Sometimes, he'd look like he actually cared about my answer. Sometimes, I wondered briefly if he actually did fancy me.

But no, he couldn't have! This was James Potter we were talking about! The Burr to my Hamilton! The King George to my America! The pineapple on pizza to my lack thereof!

Clearly, he just wanted to embarrass me as much as possible. And I was not going to let him.

From Da Author:

brooo to be HONEST i don't think this is one of my better works. like i literally just wrote it on a WHIM. a WHIM i tell you. A WHIM. But I am not so cruel as to leave a story hanging, so i suppose I will just keep uploading the chapters anyway (i mean, it's already fully written, so i see no reason NOT to, right?)

so yeah.

-me