A/N: This is my edited chapter 1. For first time readers, welcome to my James/Lily fic. I love them dearly. Hope you enjoy.
"Flatter me, and I may not believe you. Criticize me, and I may not like you. Ignore me, and I may not forgive you. Encourage me, and I will not forget you. Love me and I may be forced to love you." ~ William Arthur Ward
Mum told me I was the sort to make a list. I didn't think it was much of a compliment either. She caught me scribbling at the kitchen table the day before I left for school, etching out my long list of goals and notes for the upcoming schedule.
What Mum didn't realize was that it was her fault I did this. She had to go and raise such an organized, careful and mildly obsessive daughter. Or two of them, actually. Petunia was the neat freak. Everything was clean and orderly and perfect. I was the planner, lists and lists, and goals, and day by day schedules for homework and other work. My friends liked to make fun of me for it.
I tucked the list into my favorite, most prized black leather notebook, folding it in quarters and marking my current page with it. Emmeline and Alice were bouncing on their beds excitedly, jumping back and forth between each others as Marlene watched skeptically from her bed. Mary on the other hand had not yet reappeared in the dormitory after dinner, and if I hadn't known her so well, I would've put my Head Girl powers into action and hunted her down.
"Marlene, Lily, come on!" Emmeline begged, springing up and down and nearly strangling herself in Alice's bed hangings. I shook my head, kicking my shoes off, and entering my bed into the mix. I shook my robes off so that they didn't get in the way, and the three of us nearly clunked heads bouncing between our beds like children.
"I don't want to break anything," Marlene said huffily, stretching out on her bed. Alice raised her eyebrows, sighing heavily, and springing from my bed onto Marlene's, a very dangerous leap from one side of the dormitory to the other. She landed a little less gracefully than usual, narrowly avoiding Marlene's feet.
Acting like children? Yes. But this was a tradition. We always did something weird the first night, and it usually culminated or began with us jumping on the delightfully squishy Hogwarts beds. And without fail, it always took Marlene a good half an hour to digest her feast enough to join us in our fun.
I was glad to be back. Things were changing this year. I was becoming more assertive, more proud, more thoughtful, tactful, intelligent, and perhaps, a little more lenient and patient at the same time. I knew I had my work cut out for me as soon as I stepped into the compartment at the front of the train.
James Potter was Head Boy. It proved to me nothing except for the fact that our darling headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, had finally fallen off the deep end. I didn't know what he was thinking, putting an arrogant, player, arse of a person in that position of power, but he had done it, and that was that.
The first words out of Potter's mouth had been the usual attempts to get me to date him, followed briskly by his insistence that he would not tarnish the title of head boy and had every intention of upholding his position, complete with every duty and expectation that it carried. He then proceeded to glare at me heatedly while I laughed at the absurdity and likeliness of all of it.
But I would handle it. With poise and dignity, I might add. And as soon as he had vacated the compartment to stir up trouble I would have to put a stop to, I added the words "To not kill James Potter" on the end of my list, before heading out of the compartment to make sure he wasn't hexing anyone.
After the feast, when we had to help direct first years and prefects, James Potter and I ended up walking to Gryffindor Tower together, and I was forced to accept that even arrogance had a good side, and as he offered to help me through the portrait hole, I was only half insulted. The other half of me was impressed at his chivalry. But that lasted only a matter of seconds when he asked me to go to Hogsmeade with him. I declined yet again and stormed up to my dormitory, leaving him sheepishly standing in the common room, where Sirius found him later, I assumed.
I would survive him. Tolerate him. And perhaps, working closely with him, I could file down his rougher edges and mold him into a person actually worthy of his title—and in his opinion, I was certain, worthy of me, but that would truly never happen.
Marlene finally joined our fun, deeming herself not nauseas enough to vomit while we jumped on the beds and the four of us, later joined by Mary, began our enjoyable fun as seventh year Gryffindor girls.
"We own this school," Sirius declared, a Gryffindor flag tied around his neck as a cape.
"Calm down, Padfoot," Moony said, yawning from his bed, where he was lounging comfortably with his arms behind his head, looking a little worse for wear.
"But it's true!" Sirius said. "We owned it before, but now, finally, we truly do. We are seventh years."
"Good job," I said. "You know how old we are."
"We're seventeen," Sirius said.
"You're drunk," I accused.
"You gave me the booze," he pointed out.
I shrugged. "You didn't have to drink it."
'You are a miserable head boy," Moony informed me. "Providing alcohol."
I grinned at him. "No one said I had to be perfect."
"But it's your first day and you're already tarnishing the title," Wormtail pointed out. "Didn't you say you were trying to avoid that?"
"No one is seeing me tarnish the title, and therefore the title isn't tarnished," I said
. "We're seeing you tarnish the title," he pointed out.
'Yeah, but you're not going to tell anyone," I reminded him, rolling my eyes. I flopped onto my bed, throwing my tie on the floor and gently putting my Head Boy and Quidditch captain badges on the bedside table.
When I got the letter in the mail, I was shocked, appalled. I actually stared at it for a moment and started laughing. I'd never been so in shock in my entire life. My mother started hyperventilating she was so proud, and my father, who I was always a quite a bit like, was equally in awe. Sirius, present at the time, ripped the badge out of my hand and deemed the letter apocryphal.
But it turned out it wasn't. I wrote Moony, shocked that he hadn't gotten the honor. And a real Hogwarts letter didn't come in the mail. It was true. It was, for one thing, unheard of for someone who hadn't been a prefect, to earn the badge. I hadn't been trusted enough to be a prefect, and yet the Head Boy badge was given to me? This didn't make sense.
Padfoot argued that it had to have come to me because of my talent. I was the best in the class, with him and Evans, and well, I'd done some pretty fabulous spellwork in my time at Hogwarts, under the watchful eyes of Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall, young head of Gryffindor House. And I had, I supposed, shaped up a bit in the sixth year, mostly because I was mortified that Evans would never actually like me…
Obviously she was Head Girl. The honor could go to no one else. She was good, deep down inside, through and through, organized, thoughtful, and she was smart, talented, and witty. I was lucky to be able to work beside her this year. Very lucky. My crush from her, fostered in first year, had only gotten a little more annoying—and according to Padfoot, definitely more obsessive—as the years went by. At this point, I only had the school year left to make her realize that we were perfect for each other. She would get it eventually.
We would balance each other out. For one thing, she was anal, and sometimes stuffy. I would loosen her up. And she could knock me down in the arrogance and obnoxiousness. It was a perfect match. She just seemed to fail to realize this. I would just have to wake her up. Which hopefully would happen this year as we worked together to fulfill our Head duties.
"So what's the game plan this year?" Padfoot wondered, unbuttoning his shirt and relaxing on his bed.
"Lots of fun," I said. "Secret fun so as to not get me stripped of my powers."
"Secret fun is the best type," Padfoot said, yawning loudly. Peter nodded his head eagerly from where he was sitting on the top of his footboard, feet on his trunk.
"James Potter and Sirius Black defining fun," Moony said thoughtfully. "Let me contact Webster."
"Who?" Peter said.
"Muggle Dictionary?" Moony offered. "No? Okay."
"Why were you perusing a Muggle dictionary?" Padfoot wondered.
"I wasn't perusing. There was one in a shop in London," Moony explained.
"And then you perused it," Padfoot said. "Because it was a book, and Muggle or not, you can't keep your hands off of it."
"Right…" Moony said. "Go to sleep, Sirius."
"I'd rather not."
"Why am I friends with you?" Moony wondered. "My drinking rebellious friends?"
"Because we're your roommates, and you have to be our friends no matter what," I said. "Take Frank for instance." I pointed over to our third roommate, who was sleeping contently, already unconscious despite the amount of noise we were making in the dormitory. "He's our friend. And yet… he's so different from us. We're not particularly close, but yet… well we're friends. Even though he doesn't walk on the wild side, and is good and all that, and he gets along quite well with Evans's group of people that do no wrong… And yet he's our friend. Because he's stuck in our dormitory, so he sort of has to be."
"I can't imagine being stuck in a dormitory with us and not tolerating us," Padfoot said.
"Our group has a unique flavor," I said.
"Flavor?" Moony said. "What a word for it."
"But back to this year!" Padfoot insisted, throwing a pillow at our werewolf friend. Remus threw it back at him.
"I don't know what wonderful things we'll be up to yet, Padfoot," I said. "Be patient. You and I will come up with something… fun."
"Fun," Padfoot echoed. "Secretly."
"Secretly," I said. "With the occasional detention."
"What would a school year be without the occasional detention?" he agreed.
"Occasional?" Moony said skeptically. "Don't you two know that the definition of occasional is 'every once in a while?' You had a detention almost every week last year."
"I wouldn't say every week…" I said, looking at Sirius for backup.
"It was pretty much every week," he allowed. "it really is a miracle they gave you a badge of such prestige, Prongs. The name's already been tarnished at this point, just being a title attached to you…"
"Thanks for the support," I said, rolling my eyes.
"Honestly, I give it a week before they strip you of your powers and hand the title on over to Moony there," Padfoot said. "And I mean that in the kindest way possible, Prongs."
"Thanks," I said again. "but I hope not. That would look really bad in front of Evans."
"Oh… I forgot about her," he said, rolling his eyes. "Why does she always appear in our conversations, I ask you?"
"Because James is positively taken with her," Moony said dramatically, rolling on his back so that his head was hanging off the side of his bed. "I don't think it will ever go away. She could give him the cold shouldered death glare for the next fifty years and he would never relent."
"Hopefully she won't be giving me a cold shouldered death glare much longer," I said content with the concept.
"Good luck," the three of them said together (with Peter a little behind, of course).