A Better Mouse Trap

Chapter One

Head Girl's Headache

"Potter!" Lily growled agitatedly under her breath as she made her way to the front of the train, a pretty blonde girl bobbing at her side. "James Potter! Head Boy! I don't believe it!" She swept back a lock of long, dark red hair from her eyes. "Dumbledore must be touched in the head! Potter!" she muttered again. "Honestly!"

The blonde girl giggled. "You and James are the ideal Head Students, Lils! I mean, think of it! You do all the work...and he does all the goofing off."

"And getting us into trouble," added Lily.

"And landing himself in detention."

"Landing us in detention. And stealing. And dashing off to the kitchens. And playing pranks. And going out late at night and coming back right before breakfast the next morning with his little buddies refusing to tell anyone where they've been."

The girl laughed. "And flirting."

"He's not the only one doing all the flirting, Tammy," Lily smirked.

Tammy flushed a deep pink. "Well, you know, he is rather cute."

Lily laughed half-heartedly. "James Potter? Cute?" Tammy smirked. "Well, alright...maybe he is just a tiny bit cute..."

"Tiny bit? He's a god among men when it comes to looks," Tammy said with glazed eyes.

"And a dirt-clod among men when it comes to intelligence," Lily thought.

"He's gorgeous!" the blonde sighed. "That hair, those eyes, come on, admit it! You think he's hot."

"I...well...t-that's not the point!" Lily stuttered with red cheeks, trying desperately to regain her footing. "Just because he was born with...amazingly good looks...doesn't mean he has a passport to being an arrogant jerk! I don't think Dumbledore's the only one a little off balance if you think he's anywhere near the sweetheart most girls make him out to be."

"I'm not unbalanced," the blonde retorted defensively. "He is nice, he's very handsome and smart, and he's really very funny, too, if you get to know him."

The redhead burst into real laughter, causing her friend to turn a deeper red. "Tammy," she snickered after deciding she had laughed enough; "One, I highly doubt that. Two, I don't want to get to know him. James Potter is nothing but a brainless, arrogant, vulgar, foul, simply infuriating git whose only purpose in life is to make me miserable and lure unsuspecting, innocent girls into his entangled web of lust and pheromones."

"Dear girl, you see right through me, don't you?" a tall, black-haired boy smirked, seemingly appearing out of nowhere and throwing his arm around Lily's shoulder.

She jerked away sharply." "Where did you come from, Potter?" she snarled, flipping her hair behind one shoulder and glaring fiercely at him. "And would you please go back into whatever hole you crawled out of?"

He flashed a smile and tousled his hair. "Why, Lily Flower, you don't seem all that pleased to see me! Whatever is the matter?"

"You," she growled. "And don't call me Lily Flower."

"Oh, Lils! Don't be so rude!" Tammy giggled, shoving roughly past her friend so that her batting brown lashes were in plain sight.

"Why Tammy!" James cried with a hint of sarcasm Lily was quite sure her friend could not hear. "You look absolutely spiffing! The summer was quite friendly to you!"
Tammy turned a deep shade of red and reached out a hand to ruffle his already messy black hair. "You don't look too shabby yourself, James; though I wonder if you've ever heard of a comb?"

He winced discreetly as she mussed up his hair, but winked at her just the same. "Oh I've heard of them, I even use them once in a while!" He patted his pocket, implying that his comb was safely tucked inside. "But," he sighed despairingly as he plucked hopelessly at his hair; "there are some things even magic and some hair gel can't fix."

Tammy giggled.

Lily frowned disapprovingly. "Quit egging him on."

"Oh, we're just having fun Lils!" Tammy giggled, tossing back a long sheet of butter-blonde hair.

James batted his eyelashes mockingly at Lily. "Yeah, Evans! We're just having fun!" Lily rolled her eyes

The three or them reached the two absolutely enormous compartments (large enough to house ten students each) at the front of the train which were set aside for Head Students and Prefects, and had shiny brass plaques proclaiming so above each door.

A less impressive piece of parchment upon which "Head Students and Prefects ONLY!" was scribbled was taped to the small space of wall between the booths. James held the door open of the closest compartment and swept into an over-exaggerated bow. "Miss Lily," he said in a mock sophisticated voice. She rolled her eyes again and shoved past him, being careful to trod on his foot.

As she entered the compartment, she saw a dangerous grin creep over his face, his hand once more flying to his hair. It was only common knowledge around Hogwarts that whenever James or one of his nasty little friends got one of those shifty looks, they undoubtedly had some devious plan forming in their mind. It was also common knowledge that James had had a tremendous crush on her since he stumbled into her on their way to the Great Hall to be sorted as first years. Lily, pretty, smart, and perfect as she was (Tammy loved to point this out to Lily and tease her mercilessly about it) did not return James' ardor, something he had not taken too well at first (Sirius still had the bruises). So then, with a goal in mind to make Lily fall desperately in love with him and become his girlfriend, James set out to win her heart, (and maybe even snag a kiss) and for all six years they had been at Hogwarts, he had failed. Miserably. In fact, his only success, as far as Lily was concerned, was to inspire her to stand in the Great Hall during the closing feast as the end of fifth year and announce her hatred for all things Potter. Tension had been running high between to two of them since she had intervened with his torture of Snape right after O.W.L.s, but he certainly hadn't been deflected from his original purpose regardless of the public humiliation she had made him suffer through since then. Tammy and a number of other students had voiced quite strongly to the redhead that they felt the year would end in homicide.

"Have a lovely trip, Tamms!" James said brightly before slipping inside the compartment and shutting the door with that same dangerous grin still plastered to his face.

***

Lily was seated at the far side of the compartment, the windows at her back, pulling a large red book out of her book bag. She opened the book, flicked quickly through the pages, and then began to read. James frowned. She was clearly trying to ignore him, and he hated being ignored. Especially by her.

He strode over to the cushioned seat she was currently sitting on, threw his bag on the floor carelessly, then sat down next to her (meriting another blush) and tried to peek at the book she was using as an excuse to overlook his extremely close proximity.

"What 'cha reading there, love?"

Her extraordinarily green eyes narrowed, and she folded the book forward so that the miniscule text was facing her lap. "Go away, Potter," she muttered. He stood quickly and backed away, hands held up in defense, mock fright expressed on his face. She rolled her eyes, then lowered them back to the book.

James grinned. He put his hands behind his back and strolled around the massive compartment, whistling innocently. He looked out the window over her head and admired the green countryside with little creeks twisting about it and huge groves of trees struggling to hold on to their brilliantly colored leaves. After a bit, his mouth got dry and he stopped whistling, and instead took to running his eyes along the crown of Lily's head, marveling at the many different hues of red, brown, burnt orange, and gold in her hair. She tilted her head a bit, so that the sun highlighted her burgundy tresses and shimmered on her rosy face, and he watched with fascination as strand after strand fell forward from her ear to hide her cheek. He restrained himself, with great difficulty, from stepping closer to sweep her hair away. Her wand, he was sure, was stowed away safely in her pocket, and he had seen her incredible aptness with hexes and charms. A scorned woman with a wand (and the ability to use it) was hardly a manageable sparring partner. But, all the same, he couldn't help staring.

Sirius, on many occasions, loved to tease James about his unhealthy obsession with Lily's hair. It was quite entertaining at times, Remus said often, to listen in on their conversations, or rather, degrading debates. Even more entertaining for the Marauder was to watch James as he interrupted into fits of fury as Sirius, for what it was worth, tried to shift his attention towards Lily to that of another girl.

"What do you see in her?" Sirius asked one day in Charms.

"What don't you?" James replied indignantly, gesturing towards the redhead sitting a way in front of them. "I can't not look at her! I mean, look at her!"

Sirius looked. "And...?" he prompted.

"Her hair! Her eyes! The way she completely and totally ignores me!"

"Ooh, that's attractive."

"Bloody well right, that is!"

"You're obsessed, mate," Sirius said despairingly.

"Yes I am!" James announced, meriting a disapproving look from Professor Flitwick." And I shall gladly pronounce it to every end of the earth if I must!" he continued in a softer voice.

"You'll have a difficult time doing that," Sirius replied.

"Shut up, Padfoot."

"I'm just saying," he said resentfully; "why don't you go find a different girl?"

"Because no other girl is what Lily is."

"And, Prongs, what is she exactly?"
"Unavailable."

Sirius looked shocked. "Is that why you've been chasing her all these years?" he asked incredulously. "The saucy wench is unavailable? I thought it was because of something remotely..."

"Mind your tongue, Padfoot," James hissed as Flitwick looked up from his lesson plan again. "Or I'll rip it out for you. And for your information, that's not even a real reason; it's just good ol' Marauder sarcasm at work. Furthermore, there are plenty of reasons I've chased after Evans all this time, none of which concern you and your atrocious dating habits."

"Ooh, who spit in your pumpkin juice?" Sirius asked huffily.

"No one," said James. "Now are you going to be a good little boy and watch your mouth or is Moony going to have to give you a detention?"

"Leave me out of this," Remus responded quickly from the desk in front of him.

"I'll do whatever you want," said Sirius. "Just as long as there are no more speeches made about how wonderful Evans is" He fluttered his eyelashes mockingly. "You know, about how fetching, intelligent, splendid, perfect, angelic..."

***

Lily had just gotten absorbed in her book, which was steadily getting more and more tense (the main character, Mosby, was now approaching the underwater cave, which was said to be haunted by the ghost of a duchess who drowned in a storm) when she noticed James step forward again, though keeping a safe distance between the two of them, and doing his signature hair rumple.

"Oh Liiillyyy," he sang, cocking his head to the side and grinning widely at her. "Oh Llllliiiiilllllyyyyy..."

She growled and lifted her hand to smack him, but he grabbed her wrist with his superb Quidditch instincts. She yanked hard, trying to pull her hand from his tight grasp, and her book clattered to the floor. She was momentarily amazed at his unyielding clutch on her arm, and pondered why he was a Chaser instead of Seeker on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team; his spontaneous impulses were that tuned. She snapped back to the present situation though, when she felt his excited pulse throbbing against her skin. "Let me go, Potter!" she exclaimed, trying to pry his fingers off her wrist. To her surprise, however, he did let her go, and she tottered back against the seat from the momentum of tugging her hand out of his.

"Of course, Evans," he purred in a low voice, causing her skin (that cursed skin of a redhead!) to flush burgundy. He flashed that brilliantly white smile of his, so dazzling, that if she had not known him, it would have led her to believe quite firmly that he was a perfectly wonderful, sweet, caring, sensitive boy. But of course, she knew better.

"Bug off," she snarled, leaning down to pick up her book. Yet, he just stood there, radiating what the Marauders had affectionately dubbed, "The Good Ol' Potter Charm". She couldn't help but feel nervous, for even though he was unforgivably vulgar, rude, and impertinent, he was still rather, dare she think it, cute. But it was not as if the good fortune of being born looking that incredible was any logical reason for being so insufferably terrible she thought as she sat down on the seat and cracked open her book once more.

She tried, and failed miserably, to concentrate on the story. She could barely think with him standing there, looking at her critically with that saucy self-confidence she knew and hated so well, his hazel eyes looking her up and down behind his wire-rimmed frames.

"Good book?" he asked quietly with only the slightest hint of humor in his voice. She flushed pink, though she was mentally ordering herself not to do so, and became an even darker color as he gave her a wry little smile and took a very small, but somehow significant, step forward. She flung the book aside quickly and stood up, anger burning inside her now, her fingertips wandering over the wand in her pocket. "I won't bite," he said mockingly, his voice suddenly much deeper as he narrowed the already thin distance between them. "Unless," he grinned; "you want me to." She was now blushing twenty shades of red, and had half a mind to begin shouting at him, when she noticed at this distance a thin, white scar scratched across his eyebrow, and let down her guard long enough to wonder what had happened. "Do you want me to?" he asked in a low voice that, for some reason, made her entire body quiver.

"Excuse me?!" she cried, shooting daggers from her eyes.

He grinned, then moved close enough that their noses were a mere four inches apart, his coffee-colored eyes flashing. "Surely you heard me, Evans."

Somehow, she managed to pull her attention away from his unblinking eyes and his minty breath barely blowing on her face, away from the fact that they were very close indeed, and flung her hand into her pocket and pulled out her wand, resting its tip at his throat. For a moment, she allowed herself to feel very proud of her ability to escape that hauntingly attractive look he was giving her. "I most certainly did," she snarled, still feeling contempt along with embarrassment. "Now don't give me another reason to hex you."

He stepped back reluctantly, (again, she was surprised that he would relent so easily) still smirking. 'So, what's the answer?"

That did it. Her grip on her wand tighten until the veins stood out on her hand, her furious gaze became ice, and that same blistering anger that she felt every time she saw him once more flooded her system, and all thoughts of his innate attractiveness vanished from her mind. "You...you arrogant prat! You're such a horrible, pig-headed rogue!"

"Sometimes," he admitted freely, not seeming to take any blows from her insults (much to her displeasure). She blushed hotly, and he grinned again as she took a step backward. "But, don't you like rogues, Evans? Don't you find us exciting?"

"On the contrary," she growled through gritted teeth.

His gaze drilled into her. "Well," he said finally; "I suppose I must work on changing your mind, then." And with that, James dragged his bag off the floor, strode past her, sat down on the seat on the other end of the compartment, and began to dig through his possessions as though nothing had happened. She glared furiously at him, then moved her things down the seat to get as far away from him as possible, blushing from her neck to the roots of her red hair.

Lily sat and opened her book (again) then attempted to read (again) but instead found herself concentrating all of her energy on biting back the white-hot fury that was coursing through her body and the intense desire to hex James into oblivion. He was so infuriating! Even more irritating was the fact that he seemed to enjoy taunting her, as if it were some great sport more entertaining than Quidditch (though with him you could never quite tell). She had half a mind to storm up to Dumbledore the second they reached Hogwarts and demand that either James be stripped of his Head Boyhood or she would fling herself into the lake (or off the Astronomy tower, or over the staircase; she wasn't picky). Honestly, James Potter was annoying enough, but to have him as Head Boy? It would be completely unbearable!

She fumed. She just could not see what logical, comprehensible, sober reason Dumbledore had for making James Potter Head Boy. Sure, he was smart enough, but he had no sense of responsibility (or anything else, for that matter)! And he was so insolent and rude! His favorite activities included hanging Severus Snape from a tree branch until he somehow found his way down without a wand, stalking Lily around the castle while making sure his freshly ruffled hair was in sight, and disappearing for hours with his buddies and returning later on with arms full of Honeyduke's best and Zonko's Joke Shop products.

Why, she wondered for what seemed like the millionth time that day, hadn't Remus Lupin been made Head Boy? He had, after all, been made a Prefect, and was certainly the most civilized of his group of friends. Even though he was still rather annoying at times, he was considerably less so than James, Sirius, and Peter. His only fault, as far as Lily was concerned, was that he had the bad taste to befriend Potter, Black, and Pettigrew, also known throughout Hogwarts as the Marauders, for obvious reasons. She felt, though, that that could not be helped. Boys were boys, and she couldn't make Remus see the mistake he had made in being James' friend. Not, of course, for lack of trying.

There was no possible way, she concluded firmly almost ten minutes later, that James could have been made Head Boy. She look expectantly around the room, waiting for Dumbledore to jump out at her and yell, "April Fools!" But he didn't. With a sinking feeling, she also realized that it wasn't April.

She would get to the bottom of this. There was no way Lily was going to be forced to share living quarters with that arrogant git. Of course, they wouldn't actually be sleeping in the same room (Lily shivered at the thought), but would live in the Head Students' Dorm, which had a Common Room and separate, personal rooms (and bathrooms) for each student. "Still," Lily thought as James sneezed quite loudly in what she was sure was an attempt to catch her attention; "there is no way in all Britain I will ever live with that Potter boy."

As Lily thought over all of this, a bell jingled and a woman pushing a cart loaded to the brim with tantalizing sweets passed by their compartment. Glad for an excuse to get up, Lily grabbed a tiny burgundy satchel from her book bag and left to get a snack.

She re-entered a minute later with a large sack full of candy, which she gloatingly plopped and her seat. James was inexplicably sprawled on the floor with all the contents of his now empty travel bag. He abandoned his search for...well, whatever it was he had been looking for, and gazed lustfully at the sweets that had "accidentally" fallen out of the sack and onto the seat She had to admit, it was a nice change that he was staring at something other than her for once. Lily smirked and him and sat down.

He opened his mouth.

"Shut it."

"But I'm hungry," he groaned.

"And you expect me to care?"
"Yes, actually, and..."

"Well, I don't."

"But...Padfoot stole my money!"

She wondered, as she selected a Licorice Wand from the bag, exactly how much trouble they got each other into that he would feel so definite about his friend's dishonestly. She put that thought aside and took a bite. "Mmmmm..." she moaned, watching him eye the confections. "Yummy."

"You're terribly rude, did you know?"
"You can't go bad mouthing me if you want something to eat."

"Look, I only want something to fill my empty, gurgling stomach."

"You'll just have to wait for the feast, then," she said airily, taking another bite. How she loved having the upper hand!

"I can't wait!" he cried dramatically, throwing himself on the floor. "I'll starve!"

"So be it. One less thing for me to worry about."

He seemed to ignore the rudeness of this last remark. "Just one?" he begged.

"You're not going to shut up, are you?"

"Not until you feed me."

"You're pathetic."

"Close, I'm a hungry seventeen-year old boy. There's a difference."

"Shut it Potter."

"But Flower..."

"I'm not feeding you!" she snapped, really starting to be annoyed. "And don't call me Flower!"

"I'm hungry!" he whimpered.

"It's your own fault you didn't bring a snack!"

"But Pad..."

"You're still not getting anything!"

"Please?" He flung himself at her feet.

She moved her legs out of his reach. " No. And stop asking!"
"Pleeeease?"

"WILL YOU SHUT UP POTTER?"

He shook his head.

Pathetic.

"Fine! Here!"

She tossed him a squished Chocolate Frog.

He ripped off the wrapper hungrily, paused to assess the value of his card, (which didn't seem to be much, as he tossed it aside), then enthusiastically shoved the entire frog unceremoniously into his mouth. "Fankwiwy," he said brightly through a mouthful of chocolate. He gulped. "That was a wonderful fog! It tasted simply divine!"

"Glad to hear it," she replied sarcastically.

James got to his feet and inched closer, his eyes flickering, and she noticed with a start that she shouldn't have had, that he was no longer on the other side of the compartment. "I wonder, though, love," he said in a husky voice, reaching out to wrap a astray lock of red hair around his finger, grazing her cheek as he did; "if you would taste better."

She almost choked on her breath as she violently inhaled, her heart began to pound against her ribcage, her cheeks felt as though they were on fire, and for one spare moment, she wanted him to...no! Of course she didn't! She swatted his hand away angrily, then placed her foot squarely in the center of his chest (hoping against hope that he wouldn't look up her skirt) and shoved as hard as she could. "Don't even bother trying to charm me, Potter," she said with a quivering voice as he tumbled roughly to the floor. "And don't touch me. And don't even attempt to entertain thoughts about...about..." she couldn't even finish her sentence. "Stay away from me! I...you disgusting...you never do that again!"

"Never say never, Evans," he replied with another of his cheek inflaming grins.

She didn't reply, but picked up her things and moved to the other side of the compartment, trying to clear her eyes and cheeks of red and to control the lashing temper that only seemed to thrill him more. She sat down just as the door opened and the new Prefects began to file in, chatting happily.

James grinned.

***

Lily collapsed wearily on her bed and rubbed her itchy eyes. It had been a tiring night.

Firstly, she and James had had to address the Prefects on their duties and schedules and such, something that had taken a lot of patience as all the female Prefects kept tuning out and staring dewy-eyed at James, which he quite enjoyed. Then, during their first patrol of the corridors, Snape (or Snivellus as the Marauders liked to address him), had popped out of nowhere and attempted to hex the both of them; leading Lily to get him with a rather nasty engorgement charm, so Snape resembled a large fleshy blob rather than a person, which James also quite enjoyed. Then, a startled first-year and her twin sister were stampeded upon, their suitcases knocked over, and their possessions spilled, by older, less compassionate students, so Lily, James, and the two whimpering girls spent a good five minutes picking everything up and yelling at random passers-by. The feast---well that had been excellent, as always, except for James' and Sirius' food fight over the stolen money and the little prank (pulled by, who else, but the arrogant prat?) that resulted in Tammy's hair turning the exact same green as Lily's eyes. Then, as the two new Head Students argued heatedly with each other on the way up to the Head Dorm, they had been pelted with large water balloons by none other than Peeves. Finally, they had gotten up to their rooms, though very soggy and very disgruntled.

It was comforting, however, for Lily to walk into a big, lovely Common Room that looked even bigger than the one in Gryffindor Tower, filled with cushy couches and poufs and three round desks with chairs all around them, a fire blazing in the hearth, and window seats at each of the three windows on the east side. Even with James standing beside her with a smug look that said only too well that he and his little friends had broken in before and had seen all the marvels of the Dorm, she had still been very excited. She dashed over to the enormous bookshelves and ran her fingers along the spines of the various books. He laughed. She ignored him, pulled out her shiny gold key, the only way by magic or muggle means to get into her room, and inserted it in the keyhole to her door.

From her spot on her comfy four-poster bed, she admired her new room once more. It was a soft peach color, unlike the bright reds and golds of her Gryffindor Dormitory. Polished mahogany furniture filled the room: a desk, bookshelf, dresser, bedside table, and mirror. There was a soft orange and pink colored rug on the floor along with a matching window seat, curtains, and bedclothes. Her luggage was already unpacked and put carefully away; the books and picture frames set neatly on the bookshelf and desk, her clothes folded and her robes hung up in the closet. Obviously, she thought smugly, the room service was better for Head Students. Tammy would die.

The bathroom was even more amazing, with an enormous bubble bath that was even larger than the one in the Prefect's bathroom, a porcelain white sink with a vanity (she grinned happily at this) a toilet, of course, furry little rugs covering the cold, light orange floor, and a stock of fluffy peach-colored body, hand, and face-towels.

She smiled, burying her face in the pillows. She could definitely get used to this.

Lily got up off her comfortable bed and walked over to the mahogany dresser, then opened a drawer and pulled out her favorite nightgown, which was long and warm and white with an empire-style waist and lace on the collar and sleeves and bottom. Her mother made it. After drawing the curtains over the darkened widow and making perfectly sure that her door was shut and locked tightly in case James felt the inexplicable need to call, she began to undress.

She was looking forward to a fresh new year at Hogwarts. Not only was she Head Girl and therefore a figure of authority (above that of the snot-nosed Prefects populating the school), but she was excited to take her new N.E.W.T. classes. She'd signed up to as many as her schedule would allow, of course, but not to just be obnoxious to all those under-achievers. She felt that she was quite alone in liking most of the courses taught at Hogwarts (she absolutely detested Arithmancy and Divination, however) and wanting to be as well prepared for the real world and for possible careers as she could. To her resentment, James seemed to be taking things just as seriously and had signed up for as many tolerable classes as she had. But no matter. He couldn't keep stalking her for the rest of their lives. She knew only too well he wanted a career in Quidditch, and there was no doubting his skill, but Quidditch, and any other sport for that matter, was a very unstable and rocky path. Lily, however, had decided she wanted to pursue a job as a Healer at St. Mungo's, and if that didn't workout, she'd always have other fallback options. Just what those options were, she had no idea. Being a Healer, (or a muggle doctor, her dream job as a kid before learning of Hogwarts) had always been her number one choice. She'd never really thought about what would happen if she never made it that far, simply reasoning that the details would all fall into place. As organized as she was, Lily had a knack of getting a little out of whack when it came to stuff like that. The future and failure were two topics that always scared her. But, she rationalized, there was no need to worry about that right now.

Tammy, some of her other friends, and a few teachers had recommended Lily shoot for a job at the Ministry of Magic. She knew full well her scores on her O.W.L. and every other test she had ever taken would permit it, but somehow, organizing the lives of every witch and wizard in the country was less than appealing. Her own life was screwed up enough as it was. Kim Sharp, another of her very closest friends, had even suggested a job as an Auror, but Lily had never considered it, and was sure she never would. The career path of an Auror had to be the toughest she had ever heard of; it took three years of hard training, character and aptitude tests, five N.E.W.T.'s (an Exceeds Expectations or higher), and, above all, die-hard perseverance. Lily wasn't quite sure she was up to the challenge. No, being a Healer was a much steadier choice. At least you weren't in immediate danger of being blown to bits by Dark Wizards on the way to work in the morning.

She pulled her nightgown on over her head, sputtering as her mouth was filled with red hair. Reaching for the dark blue plastic brush on her dresser, she swept her hair out of her face with her other hand, then began to comb through the matted mess. A sudden loud knock as the door made her jump.

"What?" she asked sharply. It was amazing how that boy could always make her emotions spin off in the opposite, usually negative, direction.

"Can I come in?" James' muffled voice said from the other side of the heavy wooden door.

"No."

"Please?"

"Why?"

"Because...I have to ask you something."
"I can hear you just fine, you know," she scoffed.

"I need to borrow something."

"What?" He sounded very suspicious. Then again, he always did.
"Can't you just be civil enough to open the door?"

"Swear you won't do anything!"

"Define 'anything'."

"Swear it!"

"I swear on my honor as a Marauder that I, James Potter, also known as Prongs, will not touch you." He sounded very amused.

"That's not good enough."

"Or make a move on you or say anything carnal, etceteras."

She scowled at the door, but picked up her wand, which had been lying next to her hairbrush, and waved it at the golden key to her room, glistening on her bedside table. The key slowed levitated, then drifted over to the door and inserted itself in the keyhole. It turned, and with a click, the door opened.

In walked James, clad in blue and gray striped pajama bottoms and a charcoal gray nightshirt that was barely decent, with only one plastic button in the middle holding the entire thing together. Tammy would be very disappointed to discover that he didn't sleep in boxers, and nothing else. Yet despite his unpredicted modesty and Lily's best efforts, a warm flush crept up her cheeks as he gazed at her in her nightgown. "Do you like my pajamas?" he asked with an annoyingly roguish grin.
"Lovely," she said shortly. "Now, what do you want?" She tried very hard to keep from kicking him out of her bedroom before he could put any of his nasty ideas, which were undoubtedly brewing in his perverted mind, to action. "Or have you come to model your pants?"

He folded his arms and leaned against the doorway with a smirk. "Well, that, and I lost my schedule." She scoffed, but couldn't keep her eyes from wandering over the long, white scars running the length of his half-naked chest and his hands. There was that particularly bad one on his face that skimmed his eye and extended down his cheek that she had noticed in the train. She wondered why she hadn't seen it before then; it was really bad The ones on his torso...well, she knew perfectly why those had never been revealed to her. "Can I borrow yours?"

"Huh?" she asked with red cheeks, dragging her eyes back up to his. Oh goodness, she had to look up.

He didn't bother concealing a satisfied grin. "I asked if I could borrow your schedule. You know the one...with all the patrolling junk and meetings and important events and what not."

"You lost yours?" she asked somewhat amused; she was still trying to gain her footing.

"Yes," he said tonelessly; "I did."

"Of course," she muttered, rolling her eyes.

He straightened and flashed her an intensely arrogant look. "May I see yours?" He left the door and came to stand in front of her, though a safe distance away, and ran a slow, penetrating gaze up her body, obviously taking in what he thought was a delicious opportunity to see her in a nightgown.

She crossed her arms over her torso, red as wine, and tried her hardest not to squirm. The last thing she needed to show around him was a sign of weakness. She hated it when he looked at her like that. It made her feel so vulnerable...so transparent. "Fine." Keeping him carefully under her watchful eyes, she grabbed the paper labeled "Head Student's Duties" off of her bed table and thrust it at him. "Don't lose it, or rip it, or anything."

He scowled. "I'm not a two year old. I can manage a piece of paper."

"Really?"
"Really."

"You didn't seem to do a very good job with the first one," she remarked coldly.

"I know that."

"So what's to stop you from doing the same thing again?"

"I don't know." He ran his eyes over her again.

She squirmed. "Don't...don't look at me like that."

"Why not?" he asked, grinning arrogantly.
"I don't like it."

"And why is that?"

"Because it makes me feel uncomfortable," she said quivering, turning her back to him.

"Aw, there's no need for that," he said. "I swore, remember? By the way," his voice now sounded much closer; "you look lovely tonight."

"You stop it!" She whirled around and stabbed his (covered) chest with her finger, "You're so horrible! Just...get out of here!"
The golden flecks in his hazel eyes flashed with annoyance. "Well excuse me!" he said indignantly. "You know, most people are pleased when they get a compliment. I shall have to remember never to say anything intended to flatter you ever again."

"You...you stop being such a great prat!" she scowled. " Why can't you ever be sincere?"

"I can," he said flatly.

She was deeply confused. What in the world? He was so difficult to...

Her head began to buzz as her took her hands in his. "Sorry," he said with a smile. Not grin. Not smirk. But a smile. He was definitely up to something. She sharply pulled her hands from his, feeling surprisingly reluctant to do so. His hands were really quite warm.

"Stop it!" she shouted mentally. "He's just playing with your head!" And she was angry to discover that he was quite good at it.

He held out his hand, a prompt to shake it. She looked cautiously at it, then back up at his face, searching his eyes for insincerity. There was no sign of poorly concealed humor, nothing to suggest he wasn't about to pull another prank, but all the same, she sniffed, annoyed, and turned away.

"You're not going to shake on it?" He sounded amused.

"No," she said shortly. "I'm not."

"Night then!" he said brightly. "Thanks for the schedule!"

She snorted.

***

James turned and walked from the room drowning in his own smug satisfaction, noticing, as he shut the door, the burgundy flush covering Lily's face. He walked into his own room (he had left the door open), and with a smirk at his image in the mirror, tossed Lily's schedule alongside his own.

***

James grinned at her scowling face, then snored loudly and tossed in his sleep.

"It's no use, Potter," Lily snarled, neck-and-neck with him. "You'll never get the Snitch!"

"But I'm on the team! I'm a Chaser!"
"Not a Seeker," she said. "And anyway, I've got the newest model. You're stuck on that Comet two-sixty."

He knew she was right; that Transfiguration book way outstripped his broomstick. But she was holding back. He mentioned this.

"You're right, no use giving you false hope," she smirked, speeding off.

He urged his broom forward, the Snitch was much closer to her...but now, it changed course...and came right at him!
"Go Prongs!" yelled Sirius, stomping his feet on the bleachers. He was wearing right pink robes, just like James'. Pink suited him.

"Come on Lily!" Tammy screeched, decked out in a toga made of Gryffindor scarves.

The Snitch was inches in front of him...Lily was gaining...she was going to grab it...he reached out his hand...

He flung an arm over the edge of his bed, cracking his knuckles on the hard wood of his nightstand. He was wide awake in an instant, rubbing his stinging fingers, which were steadily turning blue and purple, and cursing under his breath.

After five minutes of vigorous massaging, he deemed his hand permanently bruised, then put on his wire-framed glasses, slid out of bed, and walked over to the window.

The Hogwarts grounds were black; the monotonous color was only broken by a sliver of moonlight dancing across the lake. The water sat undisturbed and glassy. The sky was a dark navy that was almost black, sprinkled with tiny stars. The scene was so tranquil, so poetic. He opened the window to let a cool breeze seep into the room, feeling very at ease and peaceful despite the painful throbbing of his knuckles. The fire cracking in the hearth cast his flickering shadow on the wall.

On his first ever day at Hogwarts, James Potter had made it known to all, girl, boy, and teacher, that he had a theory. He had worked on said theory since his second year of primary school, the year he was accosted by cooties. All the information he had discovered and mentally filed pointed to one thing: all girls, of any race, age, and hair color, were delicate, fragile creatures; shrieking and leaping onto tabletops when they saw anything even vaguely resembling a mouse and fainting at the sight of blood.

Then he met Lily.

She was so incredibly pretty; with her shiny auburn hair, her deep green eyes, and her flawless white skin dotted with the occasional freckle. But that didn't keep her from being annoyingly confusing. She was vulnerable and reserved one moment, forward and bitter the next. She was amiable and pleasant to most, smiling with utmost sincerity at the few choice boys who made her laugh and giving up sleep to help her friends with whatever problems they encountered. Yet she had a bold, unyielding spirit, quite unlike that of any other girl, that flashed from her eyes. He was never really sure whether that contradiction was a good thing or not.

He sighed deeply through his nose, and after a few more minutes of staring out the window at the quiet, dark scene laid out before him, shut the window and wandered sleepily over to his bed. He pulled his nightshirt off over his head and tossed it to the side, then climbed back under the covers. All in all, he thought he thought it had been a very good day. Well, except for the theft of his money, Tammy nearly strangling him, and the water balloon ambush courtesy of Hogwarts' most maddening poltergeist. The train, however...

His spine tingled as the encounter in the Head Student's compartment flashed in his mind like a filmstrip. The sunlight gently dancing in her hair; her face, tinged with pink, only inches from his own; her eyes on fire; her skin, soft beneath his fingers...

He grinned.

James Potter had plans for this year. Big plans. N.E.W.T.s or not, he was going to spend every waking hour doing all he could possibly do to seduce that hotheaded little beauty right into his arms. He was tired or waiting for her to come around, tired of searching for someone else to take her place in his mind, tired of going out of his way to get her attention. Now, there would be no more games. Lily Evans would be his this year, or chances were very good that he was going to spend the rest of his life miserable, single, and one of those bitter old men who always drink themselves to death in novels. No, he would make her fall in love with him this year, even if it came to getting down on his knees and groveling. Well, maybe he wouldn't go that far.

"Six years is a lot of time to change your mind, mate," Sirius had remarked wisely that morning as they dragged their suitcases onto the Hogwarts Express. "If you don't snag her now, which might be a little more difficult than you thought, I don't reckon you ever will." The words hadn't exactly been comforting, but James had seen his friend's point. Lily was difficult, however it was only a matter of time before she was worn down. He hoped.

Already, he had a plan formulated, thanks, in part to his father. James' dad seemed to be the only person he knew who enjoyed divulging their creative girl-snatching schemes to their sons for future use. In fact, he did this periodically, going on and on for hours whilst James sat at his feet, scribbling down every tantalizing hint and tip he could. The latest "Father/Son Chat" had resulted in a sound smack on the head for the both of them, courtesy of his mother.

"Don't you go telling him that rubbish!" she said shrilly, glaring at her husband.

"Just helping the boy out, love," he mumbled, rubbing his head.

"James doesn't need any of that kind of help," she snarled. "He's perfectly capable of finding a girlfriend without you getting into his head." Then she turned to her son. "Is it this Lila girl?"

"Lily, mum," James muttered.

"Yes. Lily. Just be nice to her. It works wonders. You don't need to...send her roses, or serenade her by moonlight or anything..."

"Though it helps," his father interjected.

"Whatever," his mother hissed.

"It worked on you," he said, displaying that same grin that James had inherited.

"Oh, just stop it, both of you!" And with that, she stomped right back on into the kitchen.

The memory brought a smile to James' tired face. Dinner that evening had been nothing more than pork chops and a tirade of insulted huffs, but he had gotten the gist of his parent's advice. He had no intention of wooing Lily with twelve dozen red roses and a heart-shaped box of chocolates, but he did intend on having her soon.