Giving Him a Chance

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Giving Him a Chance

Chapter one

By duva

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'Who did you bribe with what?' I said somewhat aggressively as I walked up to him. His head flew up from staring at the ground and he grinned at me.

'Hi, Evans, nice to see you too,' he said. 'Congratulations on making Head Girl.'

I sighed. Head Girl, yes. Head Girl was great; it was what I had been trying to achieve for a few years now. Having to work with this git, however, was not what I would call "great". 'I guess I should say the same to you,' I said unenthusiastically.

He shook his head. 'No need, I'm not Head Girl.'

Har har. How very funny he was. Only that he wasn't. 'You know what I mean, Potter,' I said, rolling my eyes at his stupidity. 'But, as I was saying, who did you threaten in order to get the position?'

'I'm as surprised as you are,' he replied, and actually looked like he meant it for once.

'Maybe Dumbledore has finally cracked,' I said, and against my will I felt myself smile a little. I trusted Dumbledore; there must be a good reason for this decision, even if I couldn't see it right now. Spotting my friends waving at me, I told him bye, and left.

*

Even as I lay in my bed that night, I still couldn't believe that James Potter, of all people, had been chosen as Head Boy. He had only been a prefect for a few months, and even that had been surprising: his friend Remus Lupin had originally been the male Gryffindor prefect in our year, but had resigned without an explanation a few months into out sixth year, and Potter had been chosen to replace him. Well, maybe that wasn't so weird. There were only two other boys to choose from, and out of those three, Potter definitely was the one most suited for the job. But Head Boy? Dumbledore must know something about him that I didn't. Because, honestly, no one in their right mind would choose the Potter I knew for the job. Admittedly, he had improved somewhat lately, but he still wasn't exactly what you'd call a model student. Well, his grades were excellent, but apart from that, he really was as far away from the Head Boy ideal as you could get.

He was cocky. Big-headed. Too sure of himself. Stubborn. Annoying. Very annoying.

Let me start at the beginning. James Potter was in the same year and house as me at Hogwarts. We had never really talked, though - I mean, sure, we had worked together in class a few times when the teacher had paired us up, or asked to borrow something from the other, but apart from that, we hadn't talked to each other. At first, I really hadn't minded him, but somewhere along the line, he had gotten the impression that being good at magic and Quidditch sort of meant that you could do whatever you wanted. He would hex people in the hallways just because he could, walk around school like he owned it or something, and ask me out about twice a week.

The asking me out was probably the most annoying thing about him. It had started sometime in our fifth year, and no matter how many times I turned him down, he wouldn't seem to absorb the message. I had no idea why he had chosen me to begin with, because I wasn't anything special, but I did know why he persisted.

I had turned him down. He wasn't used to that. He was used to giggling girls following him around, telling him how great they thought he was. I was a challenge. He needed my acceptance to further inflate his ego.

Too bad for him that I wouldn't give it to him.

Now, I had to admit that since being made a prefect, he had greatly improved. He had stopped hexing people for no reason, and had gotten somewhat more humble about his knowledge. The asking me out part, however, hadn't stopped, and I found that very annoying, mostly because I knew he was only doing it to prove a point. And now, thanks to the strange workings of Dumbledore's mind, I would have to work with him. When we were fellow prefects, we hadn't really had much to do with each other's work, but Head students were required to work together on a much closer level. I could just hope that he would try to be professional about it, but I didn't really believe it. Sooner or later, he would ask me out again, like he always did. And when he did, I would refuse him - just like I always did.

*

Surprisingly enough, the first few weeks back went just fine. Potter seemed to take his responsibilities somewhat seriously, which was good, because there was a lot to do. We had to teach the new fifth year prefects their job, take care of the first years, as well as take care of our other Head duties. I also had started revising for my NEWT's - they were months away, but one could never be too prepared.

We had meetings with the prefects every Thursday in the Great Hall, to check how they were doing, if they needed our help with anything, you get the idea. The meetings were mostly run by me - Potter didn't really seem all that interested.

Today was no exception. I doubt he was even aware of what we were discussing. He seemed to be staring intently at Stephen Welsh, a sixth year Hufflepuff, but why, I didn't know. He usually reserved his staring in prefect meetings for me. Not that I minded the change - it was really quite unsettling to have him staring at me when I was trying to do my job. So far, though, he hadn't tried to ask me out, which was really quite nice.

The meeting passed quite quickly, as no one seemed to have run into any problems so far. It hadn't lasted for more than half an hour when I dismissed the prefects, and I was looking forward to having a nice, quiet evening to relax, possibly taking a long bath in the Head bathroom. Sighing contently, I walked after the prefects towards the door. I was almost there when Potter suddenly called to me, and I turned around and walked back into the Great Hall.

'Yes?' I said, a little annoyed about being held back. If he had anything to say, he could've said it during the meeting instead of trying to burn a hole through Welsh's head by staring at him.

Potter looked oddly nervous. 'Er, I was just wondering if you'd fancy a stroll around the lake,' he said quickly, stumbling a little over the words.

I crossed my arms tightly and made a face. Not this again. He had been making such fine progress. 'Are you asking me out?'

Stephen Welsh was still left in the Great Hall for some reason, but as Potter mumbled his affirmative response, he scurried out like he was afraid Potter might bite him if he stayed. What all that was about, I had no idea. Come to think of it, I wasn't too sure I wanted to know.

'No, Potter, I will not go out with you,' I said tiredly. I had been quite happy with our working relationship so far, so why did he have to go and spoil it like this? He should know by now what my response would be.

'Fine!' he snapped, and I took a step back in shock. I hadn't expected this reaction. 'Fine. I'm a horrible person, and you'll never go out with me, I get it.' With that, he turned around and made for the door.

What was his problem? Had he ever given me a reason to go out with him? Did he have any right to yell at me like that? I was getting a little aggravated. 'I might have considered it if I didn't know why you want to go out with me,' I defended myself.

'Oh, you know the reason, do you?' he said, without turning around or even stopping walking.

'Yes, I do,' I said quietly, whatever anger I might have been feeling gone, and replaced with a sad sort of embarrassment. I didn't like talking about this. In a way, it kind of hurt that he thought I'd be stupid enough to go out with him. I didn't enjoy it when people played mind games on me. 'It bugs you that I'm probably the only girl who has turned you down.'

He stopped then and turned around. There was disbelief all over his face. 'Is that what you think?' he said just as quietly as I had spoken.

I shrugged, and suddenly I couldn't stand looking into his eyes anymore. I didn't say anything, and for a long time, neither did he. 'I'd never do that,' he finally said, in a very quiet, very odd-sounding voice.

'Why, then?' I asked, still looking down.

'It doesn't matter.' I looked up at this, but he averted his eyes and stared intently at his shoelaces instead of looking at me when he spoke. 'You're different,' he said even more quietly.

'Different?' I said, shocked. I hadn't been expecting this. I don't know what I'd been expecting, really, but it sure wasn't this. More anger, perhaps. Laughter. Not quiet embarrassment.

He gave a deep sigh and raised his eyes to meet mine. 'I can group the girls I have dated into two categories,' he said, louder this time. 'The first is the ones who only want to go out with me because I'm a decent Quidditch player. They'll talk to me, listen to me, but once I mention something unrelated to Quidditch, they become uninterested. They don't care about me as a person; they only care about me as a "the Quidditch star".' He inhaled loudly, pausing for a moment. 'And the other is the ones who will only go out with me to get Sirius's attention.'

I found myself gaping at him, my mouth hanging open. I couldn't believe he was telling me this, nor could I believe what it was he was telling me. 'People do that?' I asked.

He laughed. 'Oh, yeah. Remember Tara Wells? Once she had talked to him, she wouldn't waste any more time on me.' I raked my mind. Tara Wells, yes. Attractive, blonde, Hufflepuff, a year above us. I could definitely recall her hanging around Potter for a period last year. Really, this was getting quite interesting.

'And Sirius is okay with that?' I said, incredulous.

He scowled. 'Of course not! He'd never do anything that he thought would hurt me.' I should have known. Potter and Black, the unbreakable two. A heavy silence fell over us again.

'And I'm... different?' I finally asked, unable to stop myself. I wanted to hear this. He gave a curt nod. 'How?'

He laughed then, and I looked at him in surprise. Just what did he find so funny? 'How?' he repeated, as if I had just asked something very stupid. 'How are you not? You don't care about what a person is - it's who they are that matters to you. Not looks or talent, but the person inside.' I blushed. Did he think that highly of me? Apparently, he wasn't done, either. 'You're fair. You're intelligent. You have humour. You're interesting to talk to. I find you intriguing; I always have. That's why you're different.' I was dumb-struck. What was all this? I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. Potter gave a big sigh, and went on talking. 'But none of that matters,' he said very softly.

'It doesn't?' I asked stupidly, jolted back to reality by his words.

'No.'

'Why not?' I said, intrigued. This really was getting more and more interesting.

'Because,' he said, starting to walk towards the door again, 'you won't even give me a chance. And I'll accept that.' With that he left, leaving me alone and confused in the Great Hall.

*

I was really quite distraught about the whole thing during the next few days. The worst part of it was that I felt bad about it. Guilty. Like I had hurt him.

I was also confused to whether or not he had actually been serious. For a while I had suspected that he had just been playing with my head, but the more I thought about it, the surer I got that he had been sincere, which made things very different. Sure, he had been an annoying little berk for the last couple of years. Yes, he was big-headed and cocky. But I still felt bad about what I had accused him of. The things he had said about me made me blush when I thought about them; no other boy had said anything like that to me, ever. What did it all mean, though?

Raking my mind, I could recall Potter doing a lot of weird things around me through the years. Showing off, defending me against evil Slytherins, running past me to be able to hold a door open for me. And thinking even harder about it, I couldn't recall him doing that sort of thing for any other girl. Sure, I could remember him walking down the hallway hand in hand with someone, but never for a long period of time. And even then, he didn't do those kinds of things for them.

It was all getting me very confused. I didn't know what to do. All I knew was that, maybe, I had misjudged Potter. Maybe he wasn't all that bad. Maybe he just had a weird way of showing his interest in someone. I didn't know what to do about it, though - I certainly wasn't about to accept one of his dating offers all of a sudden, but I felt that just maybe, I should try talking to him some more, see if he really was as bad as I thought he was. Maybe once he got to know me, he would realise how wrong we were for each other and give up the idea of going out with me. Maybe he deserved a chance to try to change my mind about him. As I said, I was very confused. Which was why, when the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year rolled around, I turned down Stephen Welsh's request of coming with him to the village, instead offering to supervise the first years back at school.

*

The day of the Hogsmeade visit turned out to be a lovely one. The sky was completely devoid of clouds, the air was still, and the colours of autumn all around the castle were breathtaking. I was very glad I had volunteered to stay back at the school; Hogsmeade, as lovely as it was, could never be as beautiful as this.

I had been patrolling the grounds for a few hours, but after a while, the first years seemed to have gotten tired of running around outside, because one by one, they had come over to me, informing me that they were going back inside. Some second years were still outside, but they were trusted enough to be left on their own. This left me alone with my thoughts, something I was very happy about. All my friends were either in Hogsmeade or inside revising, which I was grateful for at the moment - I just felt like being alone for a while.

I was sitting under a large tree near the lake, contemplating life and other things, when I spotted a lone figure slowly walking along the edge of the lake. Squinting, I realised who it was - there wasn't anyone else in school who had hair like that. Suddenly feeling the need to talk to him, I pushed myself off the ground and walked rapidly after him.

He seemed to be in his own little world, and I don't think he had noticed I was there until I offered a greeting as I approached him. At the sound of my voice, he turned his head around, returned the greeting and brought a hand up to his hair. I hated it when he did that. Shaking my head to rid it of such thoughts, I sped up a little so that I came up beside him, and said, 'Nice day, isn't it?'

He was staring at me, which I found vaguely disturbing. I didn't avert my gaze, though. 'Lovely,' he agreed, still staring at me. 'What are you doing out here?' I explained how I had volunteered to look after the little ones, and how they had all disappeared, earning a small chuckle from Potter.

'What about you? How come you aren't in Hogsmeade?' I asked, looking up at him.

'Huh?' he said, looking quite lost, as though he had no clue what I was talking about. I quirked a questioning brow at him.

'Hogsmeade. Today. Why aren't you there?'

'Oh,' he answered, looking a bit sheepish. 'I didn't have anyone to go with.'

I somehow doubted that. 'Your friends?'

'I didn't fancy going with my friends,' he mumbled in response, and I laughed.

'Oh, come on. You're trying to tell me you couldn't get a date?' I knew without a doubt that James Potter did not have any difficulties in getting girls to go out with him. Not including me, of course.

'Well, I'm glad you think so highly of me,' he chuckled. 'If you must know, I didn't try.'

'To get a date?' I said, somewhat surprised, and he nodded. 'Why not?'

He gave a deep sigh, as though what he was about to say was obvious. 'Because there's only one girl I would like to take to Hogsmeade.'

I looked down at the ground, a small smile spreading over my lips. Yeah, I should have known he would say that. Under normal circumstances, however, he would have said something about it a lot sooner. I found this vaguely amusing. 'Why didn't you ask me, then?' I asked, grinning at him.

'There are only so many times a guy can be turned down without getting the point,' he said quite seriously, and I laughed a little.

'Oh? And how many times would that be?'

'Thirty-six,' he said immediately, not missing a beat.

'You've kept count?' I asked, unable to mask the surprise in my voice.

'Of course,' he replied, once again as though it was the obvious thing to do. 'I have even sorted the rejections into different categories. There are your regular refusals, the ones where you don't even answer, and, my personal favourite, those that come with an insult or two.'

I couldn't help but laugh out loud at this. It was so nice to see that he could joke about himself; that he didn't take himself so seriously all the time, that I felt like maybe now was a good time to get to know him a little better. Before I could change my mind, I reached over and grabbed his arm, tugging on the sleeve of his robes, telling him to come with me in a voice still full of laughter.

'Where?' he said in a very strangled voice, looking as though I had just done something very shocking.

Honestly, sometimes he seemed a little retarded. Where would we go? I stated the obvious, linked my arm with his and started to walk towards the village. He looked completely dumb-struck, his mouth hanging open, his eyes twice their normal size.

'What are you doing?'

Alright, maybe that was a fair question. After all, this was quite a change from debating whether or not to hex him just because he said my hair looked nice. I smiled at him, and said the only thing I could think of at the moment.

'I'm giving you a chance.'

*

As we were sitting in the Three Broomsticks later, I didn't regret my choice at all. Potter had behaved himself the entire time, and he was focusing very intently on me (alright, maybe a bit too intently), asking me all sorts of questions about my family, friends and background. I was just telling him about Petunia, and if there was any subject that I enjoyed to discuss, it was Petunia. Nothing better than to bad-mouth my sister. Potter seemed quite appalled when I told him about her, and went on to tell me that he didn't have any siblings at all, something I considered him lucky for. I told him this, and he smiled at me.

'I guess,' he replied. 'Sirius lives with me though, and he's got enough crazy relatives to fill the entire world.'

The mention of Sirius Black brought up a thought about something that I had been wanting to know for a while now. 'I always wondered... that insanely scary girl in Slytherin? The one with the long dark hair? Her name's Black, isn't it?' He nodded. 'She's his sister?'

'Bellatrix?' I shrugged; I didn't know her name, all that I knew was that she was very intimidating. 'Nah, not quite that bad. Cousin. She is scary, though.'

I laughed. 'I know a few first years who have had nightmares about her. Recurring ones.' This comment made him chuckle along with me, and I suddenly thought that I was right to have done this, because he really wasn't all that bad, and I felt as though I ought to let him know. 'You're not scary, though,' I said, smiling at him.

He blushed at my words, which made me smile even more. 'You're actually quite nice; who would've known?'

He laughed, still blushing a bit. 'Thanks, Evans, I'll take that as a compliment. You're not too bad yourself. Although you are kind of scary.'

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. 'I'm scary?'

'Yup.'

'Why?' I asked, very confused, but finding the whole thing quite amusing for some reason.

'You just are. But you're not scary in a Bellatrix way. You're scary in a good way,' Potter explained, shrugging a bit. I smiled again.

'There's such a thing as being scary in a good way?'

'Of course there is. Like a haunted house,' he explained.

'I'm like a haunted house? I'm not quite sure I like the sound of this. Maybe I should be offended,' I said, but I wasn't really. I found the whole conversation oddly funny, but I also didn't see what he meant at all.

'Haunted houses are scary in a thrilling way,' he said. 'They scare you, but at the same time, you're excited, and once you know you'll get out of it alive, they are really quite a pleasant experience.'

I looked at him for a long moment, my face breaking into yet another smile. That actually made sense, and in some odd way, it was a very cute thing to say. 'You have a way with words, Potter,' I said, and he blushed beet red. I couldn't help it, it was too good of an opportunity to miss - I had to tease him a bit. 'So, does this mean we'll be visiting the Shrieking Shack after this?' I said innocently, draining the last of my butterbeer.

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