Author's Notes: Thank you for the lovely reaction to this story so far!
Lily's butterfly exhibit experience is directly ripped from my life. Much like her, I am never going to recover from it.
Chapter Two: Hostile Takeover
Lily didn't get around to telling Mary about Prongs, in part because their arrangement sounded incredibly weird when voiced aloud, but mostly because there was no detective more stalwart than a best friend with a social media presence, and Lily wanted to win by herself.
The difficulty in this, she realised, lay in investigating any clues he might give her without immediately giving herself away. If she started asking questions at school, she ran a huge risk of alerting someone who knew him well enough to tell him about it, or failing that, accidentally asking Prongs himself, which was the worst imaginable scenario. She had a feeling that he'd be smug in victory, especially if she made a stupid mistake so early on, and her pride wouldn't be able to bear such a blow.
With her classmates proving such a hazardous resource, she decided that she'd be better placed in getting him to slip up mid-conversation, though she was hopeful that a better plan would present itself in time.
Lily had already made some progress, though. She knew he wasn't Terry Heaney, nor was he her former best friend, Severus Snape, to whom she no longer spoke, and whose number she had blocked. She had briefly considered that he may have been Severus with a new number, but quickly discarded that theory. She knew Sev's texting style well, and Prongs couldn't have been more different.
He was funny, for one thing. Severus could be witty, but in a cold, mean sort of way. He wasn't funny. He never had been.
There was something about Prongs that made him likeable - an instantaneous, unintentional sincerity to which Lily had warmed, and quickly, during their second conversation. His apparent lack of creepiness was refreshing, considering he was a boy, and considering that Lily couldn't even play Words With Friends without some random bloke trying to interest her in his dick under the pretence of challenging her to a game. Prongs didn't appear to have an ulterior motive. He seemed entirely harmless, and rather charming, and the mystery surrounding his existence made school that bit more interesting.
"Why do you keep doing that?"
"Doing what?"
"Looking around like you're waiting for someone," Mary clarified, on a Thursday morning before assembly, just over a week after Lily and Prongs had agreed upon their little wager. They hadn't spoken since, but Lily had accepted that another conversation was necessary to help her narrow down her search, and soon. "You've been doing it for days."
"I'm not waiting for anyone."
Her friend leaned forward in her seat and inclined her head towards the chair to Lily's left, which had been occupied her schoolbag. "Who are you saving that for?"
"Nobody, I just didn't want Lacey to sit there and talk on and on about Nick Crabtree while I was trying to concentrate."
"Concentrate on what?"
"On McGonagall."
"McGonagall and..."
"Get off my case," said Lily irritably, and tugged at the end of her ponytail. She'd told Mary that she'd never bothered to apologise to her mystery texter, and Mary had taken it and let it go, consigning the dramatic events of the slut-shaming wall-scrawl to memory, where it would lie dormant for years until it was inevitably dragged up during a late-night spate of 'do you remembers' after one too many drinks.
She was pretty certain that Mary didn't have a clue about the contest, which was fine, but Lily's heightened awareness of other people had, inevitably, brought her friend to another conclusion regarding her behaviour, one that was only halfway incorrect.
"You can admit that you're saving it for Potter—"
"I'm not—"
"There he is now," said Mary, pointing towards the door, and sure enough, there Potter was, his just-been-electrified black hair and lean, bespectacled face clearly visible in the small crowd of students who were still finding their seats, because he stood a good head taller than most people. Lily immediately looked in the opposite direction, all thoughts of Prongs flying out of her head in the wake of a minor panic.
"Could you maybe not point at him?" she implored of Mary. "And be a little less obvious for once in your life? Remus saw you do that."
"He's coming over here."
"Shut up—"
"Of course he is, because he always comes over—"
"I'm not saving the seat for him."
"You so are—"
"If he asks if it's taken, I'm going to tell him it is, so there, you bloody—"
"You'll fold like a fucking deckchair."
"I will not."
"Liars, liars everywhere, and not a—"
"Is this seat taken?" said Potter.
Lily looked up at him – really, he was almost too tall at this stage, so much so that she'd need to stretch up on her toes if she ever kissed him, or maybe he'd lean down, he seemed like the kind of guy who'd be sweet enough to do that – managed not to blush, and moved her schoolbag. "Sure."
Sure. A word that didn't even answer his question, because he'd asked if it was taken, not if he could have it, and this was great, she was a total idiot.
"Thanks," said Potter, who didn't seem to notice that she was an affront to the English language. He dropped into the chair with a dull thud, and his friends took the three free seats to his left. She could feel Mary smirking beside her, which didn't help matters at all.
Mary knew that Lily had chosen to sit in an empty row specifically because Potter and his mates were joined at the hip and needed the space, and the reason Mary knew it – despite many denials on Lily's part – was because Lily did it every single day. Assembly was a daily occurrence at Hogwarts, usually lasting thirty minutes but occasionally stretching for hours when some special event was being held, and by some stroke of luck, or skill on her part, Lily could usually swing it that she wound up sitting next to him. In fact, rare was the occasion that they didn't sit together or reasonably close to it. She often wondered if she had somehow conditioned him to subconsciously seek her out.
That, all things considered, may have been the reason why Helena Hodge had been moved to get revenge. Lily would have been proud of herself for her consistent track record, if it hadn't been the hallmark of a particularly sad sort of desperation. She never even spoke to him, just sat there, determinedly avoiding his eye and enjoying the way he smelled, which was always rather fresh and lovely because he didn't douse himself in liberal amounts of pungent aftershave, like other boys in their year.
Potter was always clean and put-together, and his hair always looked so soft and fluffy because he didn't use product in it, and he dressed really nicely on non-uniform days. Somebody was raising him the right way.
There were still five minutes until assembly started, which posed a myriad of opportunities for her to start an actual conversation with him – trouble was, she never knew how to start, and she knew she'd make things awkward. The only thing she really knew about him was that he liked swimming and football because he was on both school teams, but her ignorance of both sports made discussing them almost impossible.
"Why have you gone all red?" said Mary loudly.
One day, Lily thought, she'd quite like to commit the perfect murder. She reckoned she could do it, too. What she lacked in physical strength, she made up for in brains - unless, of course, she had to talk to a guy she fancied, at which point she became a mute and artless mess.
"I haven't gone all red," she protested, and naturally felt herself blush. If the upside to being ginger was really, really fantastic hair, the downside was a propensity to glow as bright as Rudolph's nose at the drop of a hat.
"Are you thirsty?"
"No."
"You're thirsty."
"I'm not—"
"Potter?" said Mary, even louder still. "Can Lily have some of your water?"
While her insides squirmed like so many snakes in a cavernous pit, Lily turned a pair of guilty eyes on Potter and found him blinking at her in some surprise, his hand poised to lift a plastic bottle of water to his lips.
"Of course," he said, and handed it over.
Now she had no choice but to take it without touching his hand because she didn't know how to touch his hand on purpose without making her intent obvious, so she dove to the opposite end of the scale and wound up pinching the neck between her thumb and forefinger.
"Thanks," she said, then realised that she had to take a mouthful if she didn't want to look like a lunatic, so she did.
"Better?" he said.
"Better," she agreed, and held the bottle out to him. "Here."
"You can keep it if you want—"
"No, honestly—"
"I always carry a couple for football and—"
"No, please," Lily insisted, and practically forced the bottle into his hands. "I insist."
I insist? What was she, a lady of the manor?
"Okay," Potter agreed. Instead of drinking it, which at some point had obviously been his intention, he screwed the lid back on the bottle and placed it - very, very carefully - inside his schoolbag, and it occurred to Lily that he probably asked her to keep it because he didn't want to share her germs. It was still flu season, and she was highly susceptible to colds. Not that Potter would know that.
The whole thing was an awful mess, and Lily - who possessed a reasonable amount of confidence and couldn't claim to be overly self-conscious on a day-to-day basis - would have been perfectly happy to pull her coat over her head and spend the rest of the day cocooned within its dark folds.
Her phone vibrated in the pocket of her blazer, and she surreptitiously slid it out to take a look, concealing it from view with her sleeve, lest a teacher see and confiscate it. Phones were strictly prohibited at Hogwarts, except for break and lunchtime.
Mary's text was one, simple word. Pitiful.
Good old Mary, always there with an armful of salt for Lily's wounds. She had been right not to tell her about Prongs. Absolutely right.
Text Received from: Jane Doe
Sent to: Prongs, on Thursday, 25th January 2018 at 8:02pm
...
Jane Doe: Hey.
Prongs: hey!
Jane Doe: Guessed who I am yet?
Prongs: you would know if i had because you'd be crying over your defeat by now
guessed who i am?
Jane Doe: I'm taking my time with it.
I plan on getting it right on the first try.
Prongs: so that's why you're texting me? recon?
Jane Doe: That, and I've finished my homework and I'm bored.
Prongs: i haven't done my homework and i'm also dead bored
Jane Doe: Do your homework, then.
Prongs: or
similarly
i could talk to you
Jane Doe: Similarly?
Prongs: i'm sure you have wisdom to share
i think my cat is plotting against me you know
he keeps giving me these looks
it's like he's waiting for me to do something
Jane Doe: Like punctuate a sentence?
Prongs: i was thinking more along the lines of die or fetch him some bacon, but you could be on to something
do cats care about grammar?
Jane Doe: I think a cat would be more likely to care about grammar than any other kind of animal.
Dogs don't give a shit, do they?
Prongs: they just want to be walked
and hump legs
and sniff arseholes
wow, dogs are perverts
Jane Doe: Maybe a horse? No.
I think it's just cats.
Definitely NOT frogs.
Prongs: what about frogs?
Jane Doe: Frogs are immigrant-hating UKIP cretins.
You can tell by their faces. The way they just blandly stare at you with their big wide mouths.
Thinking horrible things.
Especially when you're walking through what you THINK is a butterfly exhibit in London and suddenly there's a big fucking FROG staring at you from a glass case, that wasn't advertised anywhere so you find yourself paralysed with fear because you were horribly mislead.
Prongs: wow
that's a really strong opinion about frogs
Jane Doe: What's your cat's name?
No wait, don't tell me.
We should have some ground rules for texting so that neither of us give ourselves away.
Though first off, are you an immigrant-hating UKIP cretin?
Because if so I really can't do this.
Prongs: i hate rules
also no? is anyone our age?
Jane Doe: Okay great, so, rules.
Prongs: i just said i hate rules
Jane Doe: I know, I'm ignoring you.
Rule 1 is no names. That includes ourselves (obviously), our pets, our families, and people we know.
Prongs: what if something happens at school that everyone knows about
like if mcgonagall raps the lyrics to ice ice baby in assembly instead of reading the announcements
unless you are mcgonagall if so wtf mcgonagall stop texting teenage boys
Jane Doe: If that ever happened it would be AMAZING and we could definitely laugh about it together, but otherwise, no names.
Or we can use more codenames.
Obviously I am not McGonagall.
Prongs: that's sort of a shame actually
i'd love to be mates with mcgonagall
Jane Doe: Rule 2 is no school specifics.
So for example.
If you're out sick you can't say 'I'm out sick' because then I could just check and I'd know.
And we can't talk about our classes or teachers because again, the other could check.
I guess we can talk about home stuff because if I knew you well enough to know anything about your life, I'd already have your number.
Prongs: are you sure you're not mcgonagall?
you seem to love rules as much as she does
Jane Doe: If you're going to do something, do it right.
Prongs: i don't think there's a precedent for what we're doing
Jane Doe: Have you told any of your mates about this?
That we're having a contest, I mean.
Is it a contest? I don't know.
Prongs: i think it should be and i think there should be a prize when i win
i haven't yet, didn't know if i should
Jane Doe: Maybe we shouldn't. They might get involved.
Also I don't think it's fair if either of us have help.
Prongs: my mates would definitely get involved
as i am the centre of their world
like the sun
Jane Doe: Yeah okay, your majesty.
So we're agreed? No friends?
Prongs: agreed
Jane Doe: Cool.
Go do your homework.
Prongs: now who's her majesty?
James Potter knew, in his heart of hearts, that Lily Evans was the only woman for him.
Unfortunately, she was highly likely to remain unaware of their compatibility, because not only was James certain of her status as The One, he was also a coward. And an idiot. And stalking her during daily assembly.
Actually, he wasn't sure if it was true stalking, but plopping into the seat next to her like an ungainly, long-limbed tree whenever he could - while she politely trained her gaze on anything but him and Macdonald threw him smug, knowing glances - wasn't the behaviour of a stable person, and while he kept telling himself he'd stop today, tomorrow, next week, next month, he never did, bested by his own addiction, and the simple happiness that was to be gained by being close to her.
It wasn't real creeper behaviour, though. He had never followed her home or broken into her house. He'd sniffed her hair once, but that was because he tripped in the hallway, and she had been really sweet about the accidental bottom-graze. He had even thrown the water bottle she'd sipped from into the rubbish bin, feeling that it would be disturbing if he held on to a scrap of her DNA. It was fine. He had everything under control. Mostly.
He was afraid to wish her a happy birthday.
Happy birthday. Two words, simple and direct, but he couldn't bring himself to say them. They refused to escape the tangle that became of his tongue whenever he caught sight of her. Two completely inoffensive words, but perhaps Lily would wonder how he knew her date of birth, and grow suspicious, and before he knew it, James would be suspended from school for being a prowler and his mother would make good on her threat to commission one hundred individually wrapped condoms with his grinning face on the packet and hand them out as party favours at his next birthday.
"You're exaggerating," said Remus, when consulted for advice over lunch. "Why would she be suspicious when her birthday was announced this morning? Also, your mother isn't going to do that."
Remus was so naive, sometimes. Euphemia Potter did not make idle threats. She had already shown James a prototype.
He may, however, have been correct about the morning announcements. Every student in Hogwarts had their birthday announced during assembly unless they decided against it at the beginning of the year. The source of James's knowledge would be no mystery to her, but he suspected she'd find it strange if he sought her out just to say, "Happy birthday, Evans," then inevitably gargle something incomprehensible and stupid that would make her frown slightly, then suddenly remember an urgent engagement elsewhere.
It was a painful situation all round. James rarely spoke sense around her. Anything he ever said to her sounded forced, which was particularly grating because he was good at talking. His father often said that he had never met an awkward silence he couldn't fill. James was so good at talking, in fact, he had even gotten Wall Person - or as she was now known, Jane Doe – to warm up to him, and found in her a potential new friend.
Jane seemed like a good sort, and clever, too. She was the kind of person, perhaps, from whom James could one day seek advice regarding Evans – not that he wanted a female friend solely for that reason, but it would be nice to get a girl's perspective on his romantic woes. He was sure there was something he could do for her in return for her counsel – find her tickets for a better butterfly exhibit, maybe, once he uncovered her identity. He had a small handful of theories based on the girls he knew who were cool, but mostly he pictured her with Lily's face, which was an admittedly terrible idea. Wishful thinking was not the way to begin a serious investigation, such as the one James was undertaking.
He wished he could talk to Evans as easily as he could speak to Jane, but that was a dream that couldn't come true.
Text Received from: Prongs
Sent to: Jane Doe, on Tuesday, 30th January 2018 at 7:56pm
...
Prongs: yo wall person what up
look at me
sliding into your dms
okay i just looked up what sliding into dms means on google and i didn't mean that
i'm not sliding into your dms
jane
jane
jaaaaaannnnnnnneeeee
oh god i'm really sorry i promise i'm not a creep
i'm literally begging forgiveness
i'm a good man i promise
i know i vandalise walls but only to lecture the other vandals
you can't see me but i'm on my knees in my room
it has left me very vulnerable to an attack from the cat
Jane Doe: Sorry, you needy baby, I was having dinner with my family.
We're not allowed to have phones at the table.
Prongs: oh okay good
you're not mad
you don't think i was sneakily trying to get nudes
Jane Doe: ... what the hell?
Prongs: i'm not trying to get nudes!
Jane Doe: I'm going to give you one opportunity to change the subject, and if you don't, I'm going to take my phone downstairs and microwave it.
Prongs: bit dramatic don't you think
Jane Doe: Oh I'M the dramatic one?
You act as if your cat is plotting a hostile takeover.
Prongs: you don't know my cat
world domination is most certainly in his repertoire
Jane Doe: When he's not napping, I assume?
Prongs: he does nap a lot actually
Jane Doe: That's to be expected, if he's planning a coup.
How is he supposed to succeed if he's not well rested?
Prongs: what really boils my piss is that he has the time and energy to construct a world takeover plot
but he can't be bothered to fetch snacks for me when i'm hungry
i just asked him to bring me a bacon sandwich and he rolled his eyes
Jane Doe: Why would he fetch you snacks?
You're his owner, shouldn't you be feeding him?
Prongs: but i've devoted HOURS to training him to bring me food
Jane Doe: Maybe that's why he wants to kill you.
Prongs: you know what
you're probably right
you were right about his obsession with grammar
Jane Doe: What?!
Prongs: what are you up to?
Jane Doe: You're seriously not going to explain that?
Prongs: it's all part of the mystery
Jane Doe: God, you're so extra.
I'm eating cake and watching The Crown.
What are you doing?
Prongs: cake!
i want cake!
can i have some cake?
why do you have cake?
Jane Doe: No special reason, I just fancied a slice.
Prongs: what kind of cake is it?
i love all sorts of cake
Jane Doe: Stop saying 'cake' or you'll put me off eating it.
Prongs: if i put you off, can i have it?
Jane Doe: No.
Prongs: you're crueller than my cat
Jane Doe: How am I supposed to share my cake with you?
I don't even know who you are.
Why don't you send your cat to fetch it?
Prongs: he'd probably take a fancy to you and move in
Jane Doe: Sadly, he can't.
My sister's allergic.
Prongs: aha!
information i can use! you've got a sister!
Jane Doe: Oh no, I forgot that of the 60+ girls in our year, I'm the only one with a sister.
Prongs: not just a sister
a sister with a cat allergy
Jane Doe: And how are you planning to use that information? Go around asking every girl if she has a sister with a cat allergy?
As soon as you asked me, I'd deny it, then I'd immediately call you out and I'd win, and you'd lose.
So by all means, feel free, but I'll be bitterly disappointed if you make this easy for me.
Prongs: damn
you're clever, aren't you?
Jane Doe: I try my best.
Prongs: i bet you fly through all your classes
Jane Doe: I manage.
Prongs: so on a scale of, say
helena hodge to lily evans
how smart are you?
Jane Doe: Wait, which one of those two is meant to be the smart one?
Prongs: helena hodge thinks the earth is flat so i don't think i have to clarify further
Jane Doe: You're not worried that I might be Helena?
Prongs: i am five million % sure you're not helena hodge
Jane Doe: So what, your benchmark for intelligence is Lily Evans?
Prongs: she's basically a genius so yeah
but where are YOU on the scale?
i'm asking for totally non-contest related reasons
Jane Doe: Well, I guess I'd have to place myself somewhere between Couldn't Possibly Tell You and Do You Think I'm That Stupid?
With an extra helping of chocolate and hazelnut cream cake – which is delicious, by the way.
Pity you can't have any.
Prongs: i'll crack you eventually, jane doe
Jane Doe: I'd advise you to stick to realisable goals.
Like getting a bacon sandwich from your cat.