Prongs and Prejudice

Imagine this. A boy--gorgeous, smart, and popular. Prankster with a heart of gold. Slight bad boy that you could heal with your sweet, sweet loving. Sounds dreamy, doesn't it?

How about not.

"Lily, I need to ask you something," he shouts, running through the corridor to catch up with me.

"Please don't," I respond coolly.

"Oh, c'mon. You don't even know what I'm going to ask!" he whines. Of course I know what he's going to ask... the same thing he has been asking me for years.

"I might have a vague idea, considering you asked me a question five minutes ago." Hah. Go me.

"You don't know that it's the same one." Pfft. Yeah right.

"It is, Potter. Because that's the only question you ever ask me."

"Is not."

"It is too."

"Not."

"Too!"

"Too."

"NOT! Oh...damn it Potter, just go away!" I huff. He is the most irritating wart I've ever had the misfortune to come across.

"Not until you let me ask you my question," replies the insufferable boy. Hate.

"Okay, just bloody fire away. Then, you have to go away," I say slowly. Potter may have good marks, but he seems rather thick to me.

"Great! Now, Evans...go with me to Hogsmeade this weekend?" A lock of hair falls into his eyes, and by something I can't explain, I reach out and push it away.

Eww. I touched Jam--Potter, I touched Potter, yuck! Now he'll think I have fluffy bunny feelings for him, ready to say "James Potter, take me!" and swoon into his arms, rather like the couple on the cover of Bewitched by Lust. At least he has strong arms, from what I've observed.

Ugh. Bad thoughts, Lily, bad thoughts. Potter. You hate him. Remember when he keeps reminding you about that horrible incident involving spiked butterbeer? I don't recall much, except for a lampshade on my head. I think I might have danced on a table, singing 'It's Raining Wizards!' Oh God, I can't think about it right now.

Rather unexpectedly, all Potter does in the midst of this first physical contact is blink. A lot. He then peers at me through uncharacteristically timid eyelashes.

"T-thanks, Lily." Whoa. He may have dyed Snape's skin orange, discovered photos of McGonagall singing karaoke, and managed to break records of the most Hogwarts detentions, but he does not stutter. His mouth upturns slightly, and I do not take that as a good sign. The shy, human side of Potter is gone: he is back to his normal, exasperating self. A slight sense of sadness envelops me at that thought.

"I take that as an overwhelming yes, then?"

You foul, infuriating insect! I am being nice to him for once, and of course, in typical 'I'm James Potter and I think I can get away with anything!' fashion, he decides to irk up the moment. I'm absolutely sick of him. Argh!

"Listen, you ogre. I'm going to explain this as nicely and calmly as possible. I want you--"

"Ooh, I knew it!"

I growl at him. Seriously. Did not know I could growl. Does this mean I can roll my r's?

"You stupid berk, go away and never speak to me. Please. Well, except at prefect meetings, where you will be polite and avoid all contact if possible. I hate you, James Potter, rot in hell!" I practically scream. I can feel the blood rushing to my face, but I don't care. Let him see me all splotchy. Maybe then, he'll realize how ugly I am and stop stalking me.

He narrows his eyes.

"You know what, Evans? I'm over you. That's right, over you, Miss Center-of-the-Universe. While you were in your cave, or wherever you lurk, I began dating a very agreeable Hufflepuff--"

"Oh, come off it. You snogged girls at the same time as proclaiming your 'love' for me."

"Shut up, Lily. The point is: you've had your chance. Many. Too many, really. And I've wasted too much time on you. I'm completely over you and I'm glad. I thought we could go to Hogsmeade so we could get to know each other. Maybe even get along, if only for the sake of our Head Boy and Head Girl functions."

I feel an unfamiliar emotion of regret. No. I'm delighted that he's stopped liking me.

Why do am I so miserable, then?

James looks at me, expecting me to speak. When I say nothing, he shakes his head. As he turns the corner, I think I see him wipe his face.

Oh, Merlin. What have I done?

Let's see: I've managed to break his heart, and all during that merciful process, develop a crush on him.

I need to get him back. Make him fall for me again. He just can't bury those feelings six feet under, can he? I'm pretty cruel to him, though. Again, the painful question of the moment--what have I done?!

A plan forms in my head. A brilliant plan, in my opinion. I'm Lily Evans, damn it! Smartest witch in my year. I'm going to win him back. Must make plans for Hogsmeade this weekend. Oh bugger. I haven't been to Hogsmeade since the butterbeer incident.

I think karma has come to visit me. And instead of giving me riches and perhaps a pony, it has decided to beat me to a bloody pulp. I get the feeling that day's events might be somehow life-altering. How right I will prove myself to be.