Unofficial Portkey Archive

The further the term progressed, the less free her Tuesday and Thursday morning free periods became. This particular Thursday morning, Lily was ensconced in the back corner of the Hogwarts Library, researching for her Defense essay on the history of curses. Wizards and witches had been cursing one another for thousands of years, and according to Professor Killeborn, it was necessary for the N.E.W.T.-level Defense Against the Dark Arts students to understand this long and complex history. Apparently, understanding the history and development of certain frequently-used curses would be helpful in defending oneself against them. For her part, Lily thought this was a particularly morbid subject on which to write a thirty-inch essay, but that did not excuse her from completing the assignment, so here she was.

Once she had accumulated a sufficiently high enough stack of books from which to research, Lily wandered out of the stacks to begin her essay. As she set her books down on a corner table, her attention was caught by a familiar mop of jet black hair. Potter was in the library? Whatwasthe world coming to? She could count on one hand the number of times she had seen him there before. Her curiosity piqued, Lily kept her eye on him as she opened the book on top of her stack. From this distance, she couldn't see what he was reading, but within a few minutes his purpose in the library became clear.

She watched as a small, mousy-haired boy walked over to the Head Boy's table and, rather nervously, set his school bag upon it. Words were exchanged, though Lily couldn't hear them, but suddenly she understood. Of course. This must have been one of Potter's tutoring pupils. They and the rest of the Prefects were each required to allot two hours per week for tutoring any students who might need extra help with their lessons. Lily herself was scheduled to tutor an hour of Potions and an hour of Charms every Monday and Wednesday, respectively. Now that the mystery was solved, she returned her eyes to her book, although it must be said that her attention was somewhat distracted for the next hour.

Several meters away, James leaned forward to take from the small boy, whose name was Evan Ramsey, his essay on basic transfiguration. The little boy sat shifting nervously in his seat, his large brown eyes cast down toward the tabletop. Professor McGonagall had recommended the boy for student tutoring, as he wasn't as far behind as Remedial Lessons required, but rather needed a bit of a helping hand as far as the governing principles were concerned. While students were able to make appointments with tutors if there was a subject with which they struggled, Professors also could submit to a specific tutor names of others who needed a certain kind of help. James had noticed almost immediately that little Evan Ramsey was more than a bit on the shy side and wasn't particularly enthusiastic about asking for help. The boy often blushed when James asked him a specific question and constantly apologized for his incorrect answers. In the two weeks James had been tutoring Evan, he had grown to like him. Well, as much as onecanlike a mousy twelve-year-old, at least.

Though Madame Pince would happily disembowel James if he broke any of the Library rules (as she had often promised him throughout his years at school), tutors were afforded a small degree of leniency with the Absolutely No Talking rule.
"So, how has your week gone?" James asked as he began to scan the younger boy's essay.

"Oh," replied Evan in the high, airy voice associated with boyhood. "Erm.. it's been good. I got an 'A'in Herbology practicum last week.." He looked nervously around, as if someone would hear him boast. "And my mum wrote me a letter." He looked back up at James, a nervous smile twitching across his features.

James returned the expression, surveying the extremely jumpy boy with masked concern. "A letter?" he asked. "That's nice. I got one from my mum, too." He continued to read, trying to think of ways to get the young Hufflepuff second-year to calm down a bit. For now, he decided to get the work part out of the way.

He read aloud the little boy's essay, which was filled with cross-outs and inkblots, and tried his best to gently correct his mistakes, throwing in little jokes as best he could to try and alleviate the boy's nervousness.

"You know," James said, as he finished correcting the paragraph on Evan's paper on simple wood-to-metal changes. "You're a really good writer, I think. You've just.. Well, there are some facts and concepts you just haven't quite worked out yet." The poor boy was really having a block about Transfiguration, James realized, and quickly offered to meet with Evan Ramsey every Tuesday and Thursday in order to help boost the second-year's skill.

Evan scratched at his hairline, where a cowlick stubbornly forced his hair straight up. "Erm.." he said. "Yes, please. And thank you, sir."

James laughed. "Oh, come on, now," he said, shaking his head. "I'm only a few years older than you. I'm no 'sir'."

Evan blushed and then visibly relaxed. "Okay, so, I can come back on Tuesday, and you'll help me?"

James nodded, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "That's usually how it works, yeah," he said before turning his attention back to the boy's twelve inches of writing.

By the time half an hour had passed, Evan Ramsey had made considerable progress in his Transfiguration work, but the same could not be said for the Head Girl and her essay. Hard as she had tried to concentrate on the historical tomes in front of her, Lily's gaze had kept straying back to the tutoring session across the room. Of course she would have been extremely embarrassed had she been caught staring, but somehow she found it hard not to watch the pint-sized Hufflepuff interact with her co-Head, who looked rather like a giant in comparison.

The picture they made was -and she would never admit this to anyone- endearing. The longer she watched, the more Lily began to remark on the fact that James Potter actually had redeeming qualities. Really, if she thought about it, these first three weeks of working alongside him had gone remarkably smoothly. Thus far, he hadn't been neglecting his responsibilities or abusing his power. In fact, right now it looked like he was using it to help one of the most precious little Hufflepuffs she had ever seen. And he had been quite helpful last night with her own Transfiguration question. Aside from that argument in the beginning of the term, they were getting on very well; in fact, she was hopeful that this year of working alongside him would be a pleasant one, not the horror she'd first thought it would be.

She was busy musing over this new hopefulness when she realized that the Hufflepuff boy had left. Before she could turn her head and invest her attention fully into her research, another Hufflepuff student approached James' table, presumably for tutoring. This one, however, was a far cry from the nervous, shabby little boy; if Lily didn't miss her guess, this next tutoring student had actually dressed up for the occasion. Or perhaps forgotten to dress was a more accurate description. She had at least forgotten about the top few buttons on her blouse, although the way she flounced into her seat and brazenly leaned forward across the table would seem to suggest that she had dressed this way on purpose. Oh, this was going to be good. Picking up the second book from her stack, Lily shifted in her seat so that she could more easily watch the tutoring session across the room while she pretended to do her research.

After James had bid Evan goodbye until the following Tuesday, he brought out an essay of his own and considered starting on it. However, he was interrupted from his pseudo-productivity by the appearance of another student requiring tutoring. A bright-blonde girl flounced into the library and sat down across from him, beaming all the while. James recognized her as Leslie Olcott, one of the sixth-year Hufflepuff girls who had designated themselves to be the school's more enthusiastic Quidditch fans. These particular girls did not shy away from any sort of House team affiliation. Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff or Slytherin: the girls scarcely, if ever, missed a match.

"Hullo, James," Leslie said, flipping her ponytail over her shoulder and leaning forward on the table. As James looked up, he was met by the sight of rather ample sixteen-year-old cleavage displayed nicely from a provocatively unbuttoned uniform shirt. She smiled winsomely at him, noting that the direction of his gaze was decidedly a bit more southern in latitude than what was considered socially acceptable in most societies. He quickly cleared his throat, leaned back from the table, and looked up at Leslie's admittedly pretty face and smiled back.

"Hey, Leslie," he said, shifting in his seat and trying to quell the flush that was creeping up his neck. Girls really were the most devious things to sneak-attack a perfectly unsuspecting bloke with a view like that, and make him deal with the consequences of an accidental glimpse. "Are you here for tutoring?" He checked the appointments list Professor McGonagall had given him, finding that Leslie's name was indeed not on it. She raised her well-maintained eyebrows at him and smiled further.

"Can't a girl come and visit her favorite Quidditch star?" she simpered.

James and his ego engaged in a brief but violent scuffle, in which James was soundly defeated. He grinned back. "Well," he said, tipping his chair back on two legs, "I suppose you may. How have you been? Hufflepuff and Gryffindor is the first match this season- which are you supporting? Moment of truth, now."

Leslie pretended to be concerned, mulling over the idea. "Well, silly," she said coquettishly. "Of course I'll have to support Gryffindor. I would have to be a fool not to recognize the real talent at Hogwarts, especially when it's sitting right in front of me." She fluttered her eyelashes.

After this little speech, James was somewhat disenchanted. Leslie was laying it on a bit thick, wasn't she? And though she was pretty, she was definitely overdoing it. He began to wonder what it was about blinking really quickly that was supposed to be so attractive. He had never figured it out, though he and Sirius had spent the majority of an afternoon in fourth year dissecting what about female flirtation was actually effective, and what was simply daft. The whole eyelash-thing was definitely on the daft list.

"I suppose so," James said, smiling nonetheless. "Do you need any help with Transfiguration, then?" According to his memory, Leslie Olcott was not half bad at Transfiguration, and so it was odd she would know to show up here, of all places.

Leslie shook her bangs out of her eyes. "I could always use help, James," she said, leaning forward again and sorely tempting James' baser nature. She worried her lower lip with her teeth. "Is there.." she began with the appearance of hesitation. "Is there anything I can help you with, James?"

There was a beat of heavy silence while James contemplated the implications of her tone and the carefree way in which she flaunted her body. He was working quickly to formulate a response when he was saved by the arrival of his next appointment. A slightly chubby Ravenclaw first year stood a short distance behind Leslie, looking nervously at the pair of them. In an attempt to verify that she had written down the proper day, she rifled through her parchments. James quickly leaned around Leslie and waved the little girl over. "Hello, Anna," he said smiling. "I'll help you in just a moment." The little girl looked relieved and ceased to shuffle her papers around.

Madame Pince appeared from behind the stacks designated to books on the Old English warlocks of the moors. With a reproving glare in James' direction, she hissed; "This is not a venue for your social hour, Mr. Potter!"

James nodded apologetically, and was silent until Madame Pince backed into a shady corner of the Library, a scowl decorating her pinched face.

"Listen, Leslie," James said in a whisper. "Let's chat some other time, all right? Come and eat dinner with me and my mates, why don't you?"

Leslie looked delighted and beamed at him. "Ooh, thanks, James!" she said, hopping up from her seat. "I'll see you in the Great Hall, Captain."

James watched her go, a look of perplexed amusement on his face.

The little Ravenclaw girl cleared her throat. "Er... Is this a bad time? Cos I can come back or figure it out by myself if you're bus-"

James interrupted. "Oh no," he said, shaking the image of Leslie's retreating form from his mind. "C'mere, sit down, I don't mind in the least. Now, let's see what you're working on..."

Tutoring continued to pass in a similar form until free period was over. When the bell rang, James packed up his thus-untouched essay and headed out of the Library to meet with Sirius and Remus and Peter before heading to their next class.

Later that evening, Lily was still working on her Defense essay, an unfortunate consequence of having squandered the majority of her free period. She had been holed up in her favorite window seat ever since returning from dinner, scratching away with her quill as she took notes. By the time nine o'clock rolled around, she had made considerable headway and had one fourth of the essay written. As the clock over the fireplace mantle chimed nine o'clock, Lily set her books aside, stood up, and crossed to the couch where the Head Boy and the rest of his crew were all, presumably, working away. Remus looked up as she approached and grinned, "How's that essay coming?"

"Just fine, I guess" she replied with a shrug, then turned her attention to James. "Ready, Potter?"

He looked up from the book in his hands, glanced over at the clock, and looked back at Lily with widened eyes.
"Yeah. Sorry. Lost track of time, I guess." He jumped to his feet, bid goodbye to his mates, and followed Lily through the portrait hole. Once they were outside in the corridor, he glanced over at her and remarked cheerily, "So, another night of walking the halls for no apparently good reason. It's enough to make you giddy."

Lily's lips twitched in a tiny smirk.
"We can always think of it as exercise. A chance to stretch our legs?"

He pretended to jog in place for a few moments, then stopped and grinned at her.
"Whew. What fun."

Her smirk widened as she asked, "You get winded that easily, Potter?"

Playing along, he nodded grimly.
"Alas, these last nineteen hours without Quidditch and I've let myself go.."

The comically woebegone expression he had assumed earned him a giggle from Lily.
"What will all your loyal fans say?"

"They'll all be too ashamed of me to say a word," he answered, sighing heavily and allowing his head to droop and his shoulders to slump to an exaggerated degree.

"Ah yes. Fame is a fickle mistress," Lily commented, her tone lofty as she pretended to be imparting high morals to her co-Head.

Duly admonished, James nodded sagely.
"That and a rubbish metabolism, and you're headed straight for failure."

"Such a pitiful fate," the Head Girl agreed, shaking her head morosely. Then, setting aside their light-hearted banter for a moment, she asked earnestly, "Really though, is Quidditch that much of a workout? I mean.. you're just flying around on brooms."

The moment the words left her mouth, Lily realized she might have just said something offensive to one of the sport's most ardent enthusiasts, and she glanced up at James in hesitation. But he appeared unruffled as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and asked, "Well, I mean, you've never flown much have you?"
He glanced down at her, realizing his own remark could be construed as insulting, and hastened to amend it, "I don't mean to be condescending or anything. 'M just asking."

"You know I haven't," she answered. "So I'm guessing there is more to it than that? I'm just curious. It doesn't seem like as much of a sport as, say, football. Or rugby."

James, to whom words like "football" and "rugby" were merely a vague memory from third-year Muggle Studies, looked at her blankly for a moment.
"Muggle sports, I take it?"

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry," Lily answered, having forgotten that Potter, being a citizen of only one world, would be unlikely to recognize both wizardingandMuggle sports. "They both involve a lot of running around, kicking a ball into a goal, knocking the other blokes over.." She trailed off, unsure how best to explain either sport to a pureblooded wizard.

Amused, but interested, he queried, "I'll have to look into that sometime. Kicking stuff? Can they aim? I just can't quite picture it."

She quirked a brow at him.
"What do you mean 'can they aim?' It's practically the same thing as throwing a Quaffle around. Just using feet instead of hands."

"Yeah but they've got to run as well? That's why Quidditch is better: flying."

"Oh because running and kicking at the same time are-," Lily began to retort, but stopped herself and shrugged instead. "They're both equally fun, I guess. Just different."

"Well, to answer your question," James continued, unable to let the subject go just yet, "flying is easy. It's steering and hanging on that's tricky. Plus that Quaffle is a heavy thing, so for Chasers, there's a lot to do with arms and ambidextry. Beaters have to swing these fifteen pound bats around like they're just a part of their arms... Yeah, I'd say Quidditch is pretty rough on a person." He glanced quickly down at her before adding, "Especially a bloke."

She considered this explanation and decided, "True. I guess I never thought about how heavy all the gear is." His last statement left her a bit perplexed.
"Why especially for a-," she began to ask when his meaning dawned on her and her cheeks flushed bright red. "Ohhh... yes."

"It's a complication," he agreed, chuckling at her blushing realization.

Lily was quick to change the subject.
"Must be worth it, though, since you love it so much."

"Oh definitely," James said. "Quidditch is.. well, it's excellent."

He glanced down at her and changed the subject again.

"What do you do? As in, for fun?"

"Me? Well mostly reading, I suppose. Not that I get that much time to read for pleasure during the school year," she answered. "And when the weather's nice, Marlene, Mary and I like to go exploring along the shoreline of the lake." As she spoke, she glanced wistfully out the window at the sky, which had been cloudy all day long.

For his part, James had never considered reading as a legitimate "fun" activity, so he was a bit surprised to hear Lily name it as one of her hobbies.

"Fun? What do you read? I've read some Muggle books I really liked, but I wouldn't make a day job of it."

"You have? Like which ones?" It was Lily's turn to be surprised, as she would never have guessed that James Potter actually enjoyed reading. He certainly avoided reading textbooks as much as possible.

"Well I've read one," he amended. "Catch 22. It's about a war the Muggles fought, I think. Well, I mean, there were more forces at work than they thought."

"I wouldn't know. I've never read it. Sounds like it might be a good one, though."

James shrugged and pumped his fist in the air in mock celebration, earning him another laugh from Lily.

"Yeah, books!"

After a short silence, she asked, "So how're you liking your Heads duties and everything? I mean, I'm assuming it's been a bit of a shock for you, not having been a Prefect or anything."

He shrugged again and answered, "I like a challenge. It's been fine, really, but thanks for asking. How about you? Is it very different from being a Prefect?"

She considered the question for a moment, before answering, "Not really. Just the added responsibility of having to plan everything. The other duties are all the same." And then, as the topic of Heads duties came up, Lily remembered the bit of James' duties that she had observed that morning in the library. Turning her head to smirk up at him, she teased, "You looked like you were having fun in tutoring this morning, though."

James blinked.

"Huh? Tutoring is all right. Not my favorite or anything. The Library's too quiet."

Her smirk widened.

"Really? So you didn't enjoy the -ahem- perks of being a tutor?"

"Evans, leave the poor kid alone. He nearly wet himself," James said, thinking she was referring to nervous little Evan Ramsey. A few seconds later, he recalled his brief conversation with Leslie Olcott and the full meaning of Lily's words dawned on him. His neck flushed, and he stared fixedly at the ground.

"Oh, come off it."

Lily watched the flush creep up his neck in proud awe, quite certain that she had never before made Potter actually blush over something. She began to giggle again.

"You know I'm not sure you're qualified to tutor her, Potter. You seem to be something of a distraction to the poor girl."

"I'm not tutoring her," James was quick to add, then he stopped and looked over at the grinning Head Girl as another thought occurred to him.

"Hang on. Were you watching my tutoring sessions?"

The grin on Lily's face faltered and her own cheeks began to blush as she realized she had been caught.

"Oh...," she faltered, trying to cover her tracks. "Well she was distracting! And that first little boy was so precious, of course I couldn't help watching him."

"You were watching me!" James exclaimed, with a grin on his face that could only be described as triumphant.

"And?" she demanded defensively.

"Is this time next year good for you?" he interrupted, hands slung casually in his pockets again.

"-It's a rather unusual sight to see you doing something so academically inclined," Lily continued, then paused as his question registered in her mind.

"What?"

"For our wedding of course," James explained, flashing her his most dashing of smiles.

The Head Girl flushed as scarlet as her hair and scowled darkly at him, but James was already laughing.

"You're ridiculous. I was amused by watching some desperate girl hit on you, and now suddenly that means I want to be stuck with you for the rest of my life?" she scoffed. "Please."

"C'mon, Lily," James laughed as the shorter, redheaded girl stalked off, "you know I'm only playing."

Lily maintained her scowl and tried to quicken her step, unaware of the fact that this action caused the hem of her skirt to bounce higher than it did at her normal pace.
"Oh, do I?" she asked scathingly, refusing to turn around and look the great Quidditch-playing oaf in the eye.

James, for his part, decided to seize the opportunity now presented to him to check out his co-Head's exceptionally fine figure. After a moment of unabashed ogling, he decided to speak.
"Well, I am. Kidding, that is." He lengthened his stride to catch up with her. "So," he asked, moving on as seamlessly as he knew how. "What's been your favorite class so far? Besides Potions, of course. That's a given."

Lily was still a bit cross with him for his comment. So what if he was kidding? He didn't have to say simply everythingthat entered that great swollen head of his. However, his innocent question disarmed her slightly. Could he really intersperse normal conversation with flirtatious banter without even thinking about it? She sighed. "Oh, I don't know. We're actually learning about some very interesting- and dangerous- plants in Herbology right now."

James' brows contracted slightly. He had absolutely hatedHerbology.
"Really?" he asked, trying to play off his momentary tic. "Worse than Mandrakes, then?"

"Yeah," Lily agreed, having not seen any reaction on his part. "But they're not so bad, really. A good pair of earmuffs'll keep you quite safe. There are someplants, of course, that will try and choke you if they get the chance." A little thrill ran through her at the memory of their previous and quite daring lesson involving a spiny and rather nefarious vine. "Or, others that will knock you out with the scent of their flowers, and thenchoke you."

James hadn't heard most of this, having been quite hung up on his mentioning of Mandrakes. Had Lily looked his way, she would have seen the Head Boy with his nose all wrinkled, muttering something about earmuffs not being at all reliable and something further about plants paired with a handful of expletives. After a moment, he sucked in a breath through his teeth.
"Plants, eh?" he asked, shaking his head. "Merlin. Who would have thought?"

Lily's lips curved slightly. "I know, right?" she asked rhetorically, the tension that had crept into her muscles at his earlier suggestive comments beginning to abate. Then, feeling as if it was her turn to reciprocate the conversation, she turned his question back to him. "What about you? What are you even taking this year?"

He paused for a moment, thinking.
"Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Transfiguration, and Arithmancy. It's all great fun and such," he said, waving a hand as if trying to dissolve the classes from the surrounding air.

Her interest was piqued.
"Arithmancy, hm? I never took that one; is it interesting? Well, obviously it is if you're still taking it," she amended.

James nodded.
"It's magical mathematical theory," he explained. "And I like it a lot- explains a lot of the principles behind Transfiguration, so its been really helpful in other classes, you know?"

"Maybe I should be taking it, then," she frowned. "Transfiguration's getting a bit beyond my reach this year, it seems like." She checked herself, not wanting to come across as incompetent. "Or, at least, it requires more effort to understand."

James fought very hard to keep a casual expression, though he was secretly thanking his lucky stars that the coursework came so easily to him.
"Well, you can always ask me if you need clarification," he offered with a smile.

"I don't know," Lily countered with a smirk, drawing the last vowel out into several syllables. "You seem to be in such high demand as a Transfiguration tutor, you might not be able to work me into your schedule around all the busty blondes in the school." Her eyes shone with amusement. "And adorable little second-years," she added hastily.

"You're just jealous. Or something."

Lily wrinkled her nose. "Let's go with something, rather," she said firmly.

There was a long beat of silence in which the pair of them simply walked along the stone corridor. The temperature was very nice on this September evening. There was a faint bite of autumnal breeze, but the torches lighting the hallways gave off a warm aura that felt pleasant. James, however, was searching for something new to say.

"So," he said, cursing himself for his lack of originality. "I had something to say, but completely blanked." It was a lie; he couldn't think of anything to say, which was particularly odd for him. Yet he hoped she wouldn't catch on.

Luckily for him, Lily laughed.
"It's all right.Keeping me entertained the whole patrol isn't one of your Head duties."

"Yeah," he responded. "But it's a nice perk." He looked over at Lily, having suddenly realized that now was as good as any a time to broach the subject of the impending Hogsmeade weekend. Pretending to think while knowing Lily was looking curiously at him, he suddenly stopped in the hall as if remembering.
"Oh, yes, that's right-" he said. "Want to go to Hogsmeade with me?"

Ever since setting the dates for every Hogsmeade visit, Lily had been somewhat dreading the inevitable, knowing that James would most likely try and ask her to most of them. Still, she nearly stumbled over her shoes as the tall boy spat out his question, and she looked up at his grinning face, wide-eyed. She faltered for the briefest of moments before finding her tongue.
"Oh.. er.. no thanks," she said, wondering why on earth she felt guilty about refusing him. "I've already got a date, actually. Ewan Forrester; he''s the Ravenclaw Prefect from our year."

James, having known before he even asked what her response would be, scarcely listened before speaking.
"Yeah, didn't think so, but that's- wait. What?" He turned toward her, utterly confused. Lily was looking ahead down the corridor, determinedly avoiding his gaze. Her words caught up with James' mind, and he was quiet for mere seconds before speaking.
"Aah," he said, grinning slowly. "Miss Evans has got a crush." Jealousy welled within him, though he tried very hard to hold back. After another moment or two, he spoke again, "You look nervous, Evans."

Lily glanced up at him.
"Well, yes." she said. "I thought- nevermind." She looked back ahead, wishing she could speed up time and get this awful patrol over and done with. How did they always seem to get back to uncomfortable topics like this one?

"I'm not going to hex you, you know," James said quietly.

He was met by a pointed glare.
"You wouldn't dare even try it," Lily challenged, green eyes flashing.

"Can't risk my pretty badge," added James loftily. With a smirk that caused the corners of his eyes to crinkle, he shot back, "Oh, well, and there is you too, of course."

Lily tossed her head haughtily.
"That and I'd have you flat on your back in two second's time," she said confidently.

"You know," James said, a grin curving the corners of his mouth, "one of these days, you'll have to make good on your threats and actually knock me back."

Though Lily was a smart witch and knew she would suffer great consequences for dueling with the Head Boy in the corridor while on patrols, she couldn't help reaching for her right hand pocket where her wand is located, just to egg Potter on.
"Shall I make it today, then?" she asked casually.

James shrugged, fully confident in his dueling abilities.
"You can if you like. Though I don't think it's a good idea, as McGonagall is just ahead." He gestured down the hall, where the unmistakable tartan-clad figure of the Gryffindor Head of House was headed away from them. Minerva McGonagall could easily spot trouble from several floors away, and had on more than one occasion reprimanded James for even suggesting such a display of bravado. Knowing Lily would not risk trouble from a teacher simply to show him up, he smirked down at her.

Lily followed his motion and saw that Professor McGonagall was, in fact, just a short distance away. Immediately, she dropped her hand from where her wand was stowed.
"Hmph," she sniffed. "Lucky for you, then."

"Lucky, indeed."

It was true that Lily wasn't about to try and hex James. She simply was frustrated with the fact that he didn't seem to think she was much of a force to be reckoned with. She knew herself to be a perfectly capable witch- more capable than some, in fact! Potter's unreasonable confidence in his own skills was quite maddening. After a short silence, she realized it was her turn to make conversation again. Though the last thing she wanted was to resurrect the momentary inexplicable awkwardness surrounding James' asking her to Hogsmeade for what must have been the fortieth time, Lily could think of nothing else to say.
"So, what're you doing for Hogsmeade weekend?"

James raised his eyebrows at the question, having not expected her to speak first at all.
"Well," he said, after a moment's thought. "I think I'm headed to the Three Broomsticks to listen to the League match on the wireless. It'll be pretty uneventful, really. The only reason I'm going is cos we've got to," he added, referring to the Heads' duty of transferring the students from castle to Hogsmeade and back. The shine had long since worn off Hogsmeade, especially since he and his mates took every opportunity to sneak out of the school and into the all-Wizarding village during the week.

"Oh, so you did remember about escorting everyone out then. I wasn't sure if I'd have to remind you or not." Lily was relieved, as she didn't like to be a killjoy and definitely preferred not to nag anyone with responsibilities. She couldn't help adding with a smirk, "You know, if you really wanted a date to Hogsmeade you could ask..." she trailed off, thinking, "was Olcott her name? I'm sure she'd jump at the chance to go with you."

James let out a halfhearted laugh.
"You know, Evans, I didn't really want any date. I wanted to go with you. But, that's out of the question, I see."

Lily felt herself beginning to blush as his frankness caught her off-guard.
"Well," she said, doing her best to avoid looking in his direction. "I'm sure you'll have fun listening to the match.Let me guess. The Caterpoles are playing?"

He grinned.
"Caterpoles?" he asked, disbelieving. "Well, aren't you adorable. It's theCaerphilly Catapults."

"I can't be expected to remember the name of a team I've only heard of once!" Lily exclaimed. "And it's not my fault they have a weird name."

The Head Boy raised his eyebrows.
"Yeah, the town name is odd, but I thought even Muggles knew what catapults were."

Lily shook her head.
"Well yes but.. it's not as though it's a commonly-used term."

James shrugged.
"They'rea more than decent team. Me and my mates nearly always listen in when we can."

Realizing she had been rather touchy, Lily found herself backtracking.
"Ididn't mean to imply they're a terrible team," she said apologetically. Then, realizing that she was in danger of being nearly sweet to Potter, she added "But I still maintain it's an odd name!"

James looked over at her, his lips quirking in a fond little smile.
"You're a nonbeliever," he said.

She laughed and laid a hand over her heart.
"You've cut me to the core!" she cried, giggling.

He nodded sagely.
"That's my goal."

"You know, that's no way to treat a lady, Potter," Lily said, crossing her arms and turning her head away.

"Yes, miss," James grinned, adjusting his perpetually crooked glasses as they turned the corner.

Their conversation continued in a similar vein until, an hour later, their patrol had ended. By the time James and Lily returned to the common room, it was almost entirely empty. She bid him goodnight and headed up the staircase to the girls' dormitory, while James scanned the common room once more to make sure his mates weren't waiting for him there. Deciding they must have already retired for the night, he climbed the boys' staircase and opened the door of the seventh year boys' dormitory, where his suspicions were confirmed. Peter was nowhere to be found, but Remus was lounging on his bed, his nose buried in an old Muggle novel written by some bloke named Dickens. On the other side of the room, Sirius was sprawled on his bed, playing his own game of Exploding Snap.

"H'lo, lads," James said, kicking off his shoes on his way to his own four-poster bed.

Sirius' head snapped up as he heard James enter, "So?"

Remus looked up from his book, also curious, and Peter, who had been in the bathroom, poked his head around the doorframe and asked around the toothbrush in his mouth, "Wha'd she say?"

The Head Boy plopped down on the closed trunk at the end of his bed and reached down to rummage through the pile of clothes at his feet for his pyjama pants.
"Well, what do you think she said?" he asked, grinning madly to throw his mates off track.

The other three were silent a moment as they tried to decide if James' grin was real or not.
Finally, Sirius asked, "Did she really say yes, Prongs?"

Pulling his shirt over his head, James answered, "Turned me down flatter than Charlotte Thornton's chest."

Sirius, who had personal experience with the chest in question, laughed and grimaced at the reference, "Oooo. Well-" And he hesitated, finding the role of "being comforting" a rather awkward one to play. "-S'what you expected, right?"

His best mate shrugged, "Yeah, I guess. Kinda hoped that maybe I was making progress or som'em. D'you know she's got a date with some Ravenclaw Prefect?"

"With Ewan Forester?" Remus asked.

James nodded.
"That's the one. Know anything about him?" he asked, trying his best to be casual.

The lycanthrope shrugged and stretched out more comfortably on his bed.
"Not really. I just overheard him talking at the last meeting about how he wanted to ask Lily out."

"He's a smarmy, ass-kissing swot," Sirius interrupted. "He's in that Slug Club thing with her isn't he?"

At this point, Peter returned to the bathroom, having realized that no interesting news was about to be shared.

James suppressed a sigh and climbed onto his bed, reaching for his copy of Which Broomstick?
"Bollocks to him," he said, thumbing through the magazine and trying very hard to keep his expression blase and casual.

Remus rolled his eyes at Sirius' predictable display of exaggerated loyalty to James and said, "He isn't that bad, Padfoot."
Looking over at James, he added, "He's a decent bloke. You don't have to go worrying about... er... her virtue or anything."

This last statement caused Sirius to snort in amusement.
"Her virtue? Moony, that girl is so clean you could use her as soap."

The Head Boy took a moment to absorb this mental image. While he trusted Lily's judgment and agreed with Remus that this Forester bloke seemed to be a decent sort, he still didn't exactly relish the thought of anyone but him doing anything with the object of his unrequited affections.
"Well, he'd better be sweet to her," he finally said, the tiniest hint of a threat in his voice.

Remus sighed.
"I'm sure she would take very kindly to you hexing her date into good behavior."

James chose not to comment further on this, and Sirius took the opportunity to change the subject.
"So, why do you keep at this, James?" If it had been up to him, he would have given up ages ago and moved on to a more willing target. Though they had had this discussion before, Sirius still couldn't understand how Lily Evans had such a hold over his best mate.

"Why not?" James asked, looking up from his magazine. "I really want to date her. I think we could have a decent go of it."

"Yeah but..," Sirius paused, struggling to phrase his reservations about the redheaded girl who he considered slightly deluded for her constant refusals of James' affection. "She's hellbent on giving you the runaround all the time. Plenty of other fish in the sea, y'know."

James sighed.
"I know."

"Yes but how many of them haven't you gotten your paws on already?" Remus muttered to himself, causing Sirius to smirk proudly.
"I heard that."

Their exchange went largely unnoticed by James, who was still wrestling with Sirius' earlier comment.
"I just think that I'm almost there... Can't give up just yet..."
He glanced up, saw the smirk on Sirius' face, and asked in confusion, "What?"

"Nothing," Remus assured him, returning to the topic at hand. "I will say you two seem to be getting along better this year. You've only had... one argument, am I right?"

James closed his eyes a moment, rewinding the past three weeks in his head. "Yeah... Yeah, just that one."

"Wait, so you and Evans are getting all chummy now?" Sirius demanded, having been unaware of this development.

"What can I say? Should I credit my devilish charm or stunning good looks?" the bespectacled boy said, one corner of his mouth twitching in a smile. He looked over at the four-poster next to his.
"She's all right, Padfoot. Been telling you that for years."

Sirius, who found it hard to believe that anyone who had so stubbornly refused to like his best friend could be "all right," retorted, "Yeah well, you're a bit biased, Prongs."

"Just keep doing what you're doing, James," Remus interjected. "She'll come around." And he picked up his Dickens again, thinking that the four boys had had quite enough of a heart to heart for the evening.

James nodded, his expression slightly wistful.
"That's what I keep hoping, Moony."

By this time, Peter had finished getting ready for bed, and he turned to the bedroom to join the conversation.
"It's only September, y'know. You've got the whole year," he said, the last word swallowed by a giant yawn.

"Yeah," James nodded, leaning back against his pillows and yawning himself, "Bet you by Christmas.."

Sirius smirked and buried himself under his covers.
"I'll write Santa for you."

"Shove it, Padfoo'..," James replied, his sentence trailing off in another yawn as he drifted off to sleep.

Remus couldn't help but smile as he flipped to the next page in his novel.
"Simmer down lads," he said, and was met with only snores from Peter and Sirius. He looked over at James' bed and found that the Head Boy, too, was asleep. For the next few minutes, he took advantage of the unusual quiet in the dormitory room to progress a few more pages through his book. Eventually, the complicated prose of the nineteenth century author proved too much for his tired brain, and Remus closed the book, setting it on the bedside table. Once he had settled himself beneath his blankets, he reached over and turned out the lamp on his bedside table. Rolling over, he drifted off to sleep with the rest of Gryffindor Tower.