Disclaimer- I own nothing, except my lack of sanity.

The Girl or the Game?

Chapter 1

James' point of view

Bugger. I'm running as fast as possible to the common room to meet with the Head Girl apple-of-my-eye-Evans, but I know I'm late. And not by just a few minutes, which she gets significantly annoyed over because she has the time-keeping of my mother; which happens to be very precise. But I'm late by at least half an hour.

She's going to rip off my testicles.

I finally manage to get to the portrait of the Fat Lady and tumble inside in my Quidditch gear and sweat that's not only mingled from the Quidditch practice I've just had, but by the major sprinting I took to get here. She better be bloody grateful.

I spot her over by the fire; her hands are full with parchment for our usual Head Girl-Head Boy meeting.

"Lily," I greet her, putting on a rogue smile. We've been on the first name basis and quite sociable terms ever since the start of this seventh year when she discovered we were Heads together, forcing her to finally agree on making an effort to be friendly with me.

I think I'm actually starting to grow on her.

"Are you some kind of idiot?"

Or not.

"Er...is that a rhetorical question?" I ask.

She stands, putting the parchment aside as she eyes me up. Is she actually...checking me out?

...No wait, she's just glaring at me. False flirt alarm.

"Where the hell've you been?" She presses, poking me in the chest. She realises I'm currently sweltering and wipes her sweaty finger on my Quidditch shirt...which is also sweaty. She makes an infuriated groan. "You're thirty three minutes late, James!" Again, freaky mother time-keeping. "Do you think I like waiting around for you all day? Huh? Do you think I enjoy wasting my time waiting for you to even bother turning up?"

"Well, considering you did wait...and...er..."

Okay, one of her eyes is bulging. I better stop talking and make her happy with a 'no'.

"Er, no?"

"Where have you been?" She asks again.

I pull an apologetic face. "Look, I'm really sorry. I had Quidditch practice and I was going over these new moves with my team. It's where both chasers do intertwining flying. So let's say Chaser A flies with the quaffle and Chaser B and C fly with them either side, and either Chaser B or C drops below and then—"

I stop because Lily's exaggeratingly put her head in her hands, faking snoring. I forgot she's not really a fan of Quidditch. Of course, she'll support the Gryffindor team every match and purposely ignore my gallant calls of "I shot that last goal for my Head Girl!"

Any other girl would find that a very heart warming gesture. She acted like it was some sort of death omen and attempted to rip out my internal organs.

She finally opens her eyes and shakes her head at me. "Merlin, all you ever think about is Quidditch."

That is not true. I think about a lot of other important stuff! Like...global warming! But I never really understood it no matter how much Remus tried to explain to me. But still, I do think about it!

"I have other interests too," I say feebly.

Lily cocks an eyebrow, "Example?"

Okay, think this through, James. Tell her things that will make her like you. Okay, here are some choices:

a) Pranking.

b) Girls.

c) Hating Snape.

d) Hitting Sirius.

Okay James, you're not thinking this through are you?

"James?" Lily waves hand in front of my face as I'm spacing out.

Think faster, nobhead! THINK FASTER!

"...Um..you?" I say with a damn sweet smile, if I do say myself.

She smacks me upside the head.

Wrong answer, moron.

"Wrong answer, moron," Lily says. For a second, I think she's just read my thoughts and repeated them, but apparently she was just thinking the exact offensive feelings.

I think it's time to bring out the reinforcements.

I move close towards her. "Why don't we stop this charade, eh?"

"What charade?" She grits through her teeth. How adorable she is, trying to act oblivious! She knows exactly what I'm talking about.

"You know there's this...thing...between us."

"What thing?" Her eyes make into dangerous slits.

Okay, now her obviously fake obliviousness is a little annoying.

"You know we're meant to be together," I tell her. I see her shaking; I'm not sure whether it's from nerves or general anger. "Me Head Boy, you Head Girl. Too much of a coincidence, I say."

I somehow think it was Dumbledore trying to get us to get together. Gotta love that old kook.

"We are not having this same conversation again, James."

I pout in a way that many girls have said is adorable. She asks why I am puckering like a fish and I put my lips back to normal.

"But why won't you go out with me, Lily?"

"Because all you care about is bloody Quidditch!"

Maybe she has a point. My passion for Quidditch does overthrow other duties, such as hurting Snivellus. I've been too busy to prank him in quite a while now; I must be getting ill.

"I do not just care about Quidditch," I protest.

Suddenly Sirius bursts into the common room; a shit-eating grin on his face with a hand wrapped around a rolled up magazine. He runs up to me, completely ignoring Lily's presence.

"Prongs, there you are!" He literally bounces on his feet like his hyperactive puppy dog Animagus self. "I just got the new Quidditch Weekly!" He wags the magazine in front of my face. "There's this new broom and it's so stunning. You look at it and your eyes burn, mate! Trust me! They water like they're drooling!"

"OH WOW!" I can't help but shout in excitement. "Quick, lemme see! Lemme see!" I grab for the magazine but then notice Lily out of the corner of my eye, scowling.

"Um." I bite my lip. "I mean, I'm not that bothered. I'll look later." I hand Sirius back the magazine and push him away. "Or, maybe I won't look at all," I add to Lily, raising my eyebrows impressively.

I turn back to Sirius who looks absolutely appalled at my words. He may even be crying tears of disgust.

"I will look later," I reassure him in a whisper. Lily snorts, which makes me realise that my whisper wasn't low enough. Sirius looks happy and gives me a wink. In one quick move, he points and me, points at himself, points at the magazine, holds up a hand of five fingers (which I assume in Marauder sign language is five minutes) and hurries up the common room stairs.

I'm so going to smack him one later.

"So, what were we talking about again?" Lily doesn't seem to be keen on carrying on with the conversation. "Oh yeah, why you won't go out with me," I frown in remembrance.

She shakes her head, somewhat tired. "Name one dialogue we've had together that doesn't involve me arguing or telling you off for aggravating me."

Oh...that's a hard one. This whole 'questions and answers' thing I am not enjoying. She isn't even giving me any multiple choices. It's unfair tactics.

"I can count two conversations we've had in the past seven years of Hogwarts. Two," she repeats, with much mockery.

"Care to share?" I say lightly. Apparently my light tone is not appreciated.

"The first one was last year," she explains, "beginning of February. Location: the Great hall at breakfast."

I like how she documents things.

"It went like this: I said, Will you past me a slice of toast? You said, Sure, would you like butter on it? I then replied, No thank you."

Wow, I remember that conversation. She ate her toast and got jam on her nose. She was like a red-button nosed snowman. Not that's she's actually a man or anything...or made of snow or has stone eyes. Although she is occasionally cold towards me and stony glares are very much aimed in my direction.

"Very detailed," I mention.

"The next one," she carries on, "I'm not so sure about, because it was the Gryffindor celebratory party for winning the Quidditch cup and I think had a little too much Butterbeer. It went like this: you asked me how much I had to drink. I said lots. I then asked how much you had to drink. You also said lots."

I remember that conversation very hazily. I think she got her facts wrong; there wasn't even any Butterbeer at that party. I vaguely remember Sirius spiking the punch with Firewhiskey whilst Remus looked all disapprove-y. And Peter got sloshed out of his mind and tried to hump a table.

I try to get back to the point, "We've had many more serious conversations than that, y'know. How about the ones we had in fifth year? I remember one where you asked me if you could borrow a quill—"

"And you replied by saying, 'I will if you go out with me, Evans'."

I cringe. So maybe the quill memory was a bad example.

"Oh, I know! When we were in library and you couldn't reach a book. So you asked if I could get it for you, I said sure and I did."

I smile smugly. That was a rare gentleman moment of mine.

"You're leaving the ending part of that memory out."

Oh...yeah. Now I come to think of it, maybe that wasn't a good example either.

"Oh, I think I said I deserved something in return when I handed you the book. And er," I quickly turn red, "I said—"

"Go out with me Evans, so you can take your head out of books and into my crotch," she says in a deadly tone.

C'mon, don't give me that look. I was fifteen and a perverted berk. I was childish and didn't respect women back then. I'd like to think I've grown a little more mature.

"Heh...heh heh..."

Shit. I'm chuckling. I'm chuckling at the memory of being perverted at fifteen. Stop it stop it stop it! My Head Girl's getting angry. She seems to be grinding her teeth to dust. I like her teeth; they're shiny.

"Stop smirking."

"Only if you go out with me, Evans," I grin.

She does not look amused.

"I was joking," I clarify and put my hands up in defence. She doesn't find the joke funny and clenches her fists. I swear it was just a wisecrack...with not much wise thought. I was just trying to lighten the situation up; be humorous, which is something I'm not good at it - though my jokes are slightly funnier than Sirius' "A guy walks into a bar" ones. Girls always love the funny guy, don't they?

As I'm contemplating my theory on funniness, Lily suddenly has a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Why don't we make a bet," she says.

I lift an eyebrow. Lily Evans, Head Girl, betting? Now that's something you don't see everyday. I'm glad to say that I am great at bets and have won many in my time in Hogwarts, which have included holding my breath the longest, skinny-dipping in the lake and eating at least a hundred chocolate frogs in a row.

"What kind of bet?" I ask, intrigued.

This time she moves close to me. "A bet which involves, if you win, which is highly doubtful," she insists, with a snort, "me being your girlfriend."

This is the best bet I have ever heard in my life. I can imagine her lips on mine already. It's perfect. Almost...too perfect.

"What's the catch?"

"You have to give up Quidditch for a week."

Christ, she cannot be serious. She's raving mad. Those Head duties have affected her brain.

"And what if I lose?"

"I shave all you hair off," she smirks.

I, without hair, am not attractive. Trust me. It's not. Bald men repulse women. It's a fact.

"So, have we got a bet?" She holds her hand out ready to shake.

I cannot agree to this bet. It'll kill me. I swear it'll be the death of me. Don't get me wrong, I like Lily and everything, maybe even more than that. But giving up Quidditch? Pah! No way! My decision will not be budged.

"Okay," I say, and shake her head.

You stupid twonk! What part of 'no way' don't you understand? Stupid, stupid hand!

As we both shake and look each other intensely in the eye, I quickly pull her hand towards my mouth and peck a kiss on it.

Bad move.

She smacks me upside the head. "Bet starts tomorrow," she tells me as I rub the pain away. "Goodnight."

She turns on her heel and flounces up the common room stairs, humming.

I am so screwed.

Lily's point of view

I'm going to kill that twatty balls. I don't know where that James Potter is but I'm guessing he's probably snogging a nameless girl in the corridor and examining her tonsils. Oh yes, I may be on a first name basis with him but that doesn't mean I have to have nice thoughts about him.

I check my watch again. Thirty two minutes late! I try to distract myself by shuffling the parchment in my hand but only end up tightening it in my hands and making it crumple. I do not like crumpled parchment.

Thirty three minutes now.

I'm going to rip off his testicles.

"Lily."

I turn my head from the common room fire and spot James coming towards me, putting on that usual boyish smile.

"Are you some kind of idiot?" I yell.

Ha, that'll wipe that smirk off.

"Er...is that a rhetorical question?"

I don't know how even made Head Boy. He is incredibly smart in all lessons so I'm assuming he is just acting this dumb because he simply cannot be this stupid.

I stand up, trying to put my crumpled parchment down neatly and eye him. He's panting and wearing that Quidditch uniform, and he's quirking an eyebrow; that smarmy git. He must think I'm checking him out.

"Where the hell've you been?" I poke him a chest but it instantly gets wet on the tip. James Potter sweat is on my finger. Ugh! I quickly try and wipe it on his shirt but that's soaking too! Where the hell has he been, in the bloody lake? I groan, "Do you think I like waiting around for you all day? Huh? Do you think I enjoy wasting my time waiting for you to even bother turning up?"

"Well, considering you did wait...and...er..."

He's got a point actually. I did wait for him...Why? My left eye is bulging without my control at the fact that I waited that long for him and he looks freaked out.

"Er, no?"

"Where have you been?"

He makes a sort of puppy dog face, and for a second it transfixes me, but then I remember who exactly he is and this is his specialty. "Look, I'm really sorry. I had Quidditch practice and I—"

I instantly switch off. He's blabbering on about some 'intertwining moves' and chasers, but frankly, that bores me to death. I hate the technical stuff of Quidditch. To me, it's just brooms, bats and balls. His eyes light up as he explains and I put my head in my hands and make a loud snore, hoping he gets the message. He does and stops talking, thank-bloody-God.

"Merlin, all you think about is quidditch," I state.

"I have other interests too," he says, but weakly.

"Example?"

I wait as he looks above him as if he's thinking through all his possible options. I let him think because he rarely contemplates his thoughts before he speaks, so I might as well cherish the moment. But when it's been at least a minute of silence, I am slightly getting annoyed.

"James?" I wave a hand in front of his face.

"...Um...you?"

Oh God, he did not just say that. I smack him upside the head. I can't believe he's making a move on me at a time like this.

"Wrong answer, moron," I tell him. He looks a little startled at my words, as if I've just read his thoughts or something.

All of a sudden, he's moved closer towards me and I'm aware that it's just too close for me to handle.

"Why don't we stop this charade, eh?"

What? Where the hell has this come from?

"What charade?" I grit through my teeth.

"You know there's this...thing...between us."

He is making absolutely no sense whatsoever. And this so called 'thing' I am totally oblivious to.

"What thing?"

He looks annoyed that I do not understand. That doesn't really bother me.

"Me Head Boy, you Head Girl." I think I'm shaking; I try desperately to keep my anger under control. "Too much of a coincidence, I say."

I suppose I do have to agree with him here. I'm sure it was Dumbledore's conspiracy to get us to be a couple. He's a wise man and knows too much.

"We are not having this same conversation again, James." I now know where this little chat is going. He's going to ask my why I won't go out with him.

...He's puckering his lips like a fish. I tell him so and he reddens, making his face back to normal; whatever his normal face is.

"But why won't you go out with me, Lily?"

There you go. It's a wonder why I'm not so good at Divination.

This persistent question is really getting tedious. "Because all you care about is bloody Quidditch!"

He knows it's true. Sure, some people like it as a little hobby but his love for it go far beyond passion and lust.

"I do not just care about Quidditch," he says stubbornly.

Out of the blue Sirius burst in the common room with some sort of magazine in his hand. He's jumping on his toes and is grinning in way that makes me feel very uneasy. I'm about to carry on my conversation with James but Sirius has run up to him and starts going on about, guess what: Quidditch. I hear vaguely about something 'stunning' that makes me think that magazine may be some sort of porn, but then he mentions the word 'broom' and I instantly scowl.

"OH WOW! Quick, lemme see! Lemme see!"

I'll let him see my fist.

He turns to look at me and sees my scowl.

"Um...I mean I'm not that that bothered. I'll look later." He places the magazine delicately in Sirius' hands, as if it's the book of the Gods and must never be creased. "Or, maybe I won't look at all," he adds to me with raised eyebrows. He looks at me as if I should be impressed. I'm not.

I glance at Sirius and he looks like he's either about to vomit, or start sobbing. What is wrong with all the men around here?

"I will look later," I hear him 'murmur' to him. His murmuring is basically the same frequency as talking. It's not possible for him to lower his voice. It's as if he wants the whole world to hear because he's so arrogant.

Sirius looks happy at James' words. In a flash, he does some sort of odd sign language of pointing fingers and runs upstairs.

"So, what were we talking about again?" I cannot believe he just asked that. "Oh yeah, why you won't go out with me."

At least he remembered eventually.

I shake my head and ask him a question that's been pondering in my mind. "Name one dialogue we've had together that doesn't involve me arguing or telling you off for aggravating me."

Ha, that'll stump him. He's just opening his mouth in an 'o' shape, so I take it as my turn to carry on speaking.

"I can count two conversations we've had in the past seven years of Hogwarts. Two."

"Care to share?" He says lightly. Does he just think this is some sort of game? I don't think he can be serious for a second.

"The first one was last year," I explain, "beginning of July. Location: the Great Hall at breakfast."

I like to document things.

"It went like this: I said, Will you past me a slice of toast? You said, sure, would you like butter on it? I then replied, No thank you."

Yes, what a conversation, I hear you say dryly.

"Very detailed," he comments.

"The next one I'm not so sure about, because it was the Gryffindor celebratory party for winning the Quidditch cup and I think I had a little too much Butterbeer. It went like this: you asked me how much I had to drink. I said lots. I then asked how much you had to drink. You also said lots."

I think I remember James dancing on a table, then Peter humping that very same table minutes later. It was a hazy night. Now I think about, I doubt what I was drinking was actually Butterbeer.

"We've had many more serious conversations than that, y'know. How about the ones we had in fifth year? I remember one where you asked me if you could borrow a quill—"

"And you replied by saying, 'I will if you go out with me, Evans'," I finish.

"Oh, I know!" I start to worry if he's thought of something good. "When we were in library and you couldn't reach a book. So you asked if I could get it for you, I said 'sure' and I did."

I cannot believe he's leaving out the end of that memory. I tell him this and then he suddenly remembers the rest of the conversation, with much embarrassment I'm glad to say.

"Oh, I think I said I deserved something in return when I handed you the book. And er," he blushes, which is something odd to see on him. "I said—"

"Go out with me Evans, so you can take your head out of books and into my crotch," I finish acidly.

Can you actually believe he said that? I admit he's not as perverted now as he was back then. Maybe he has grown out of that childish stage, grown more respect for women and is more matu—is he chuckling? He's bloody chuckling! My teeth are grinding. My teeth...are grinding.

"Stop smirking."

"Only if you go out with me, Evans," he says, and he's bloody grinning, too.

I will pull out his teeth and impale them into his forehead, spelling out the word wanker.

"I was joking."

I don't mind a joke now and then. Yes, I'm Head Girl but I'll let my hair down and join in the laugh with my friends. But that... That was not funny.

I don't think I can take this anymore. I need to teach him a lesson - and suddenly, an idea springs to me. It's completely ridiculous. Totally absurd. I'm not thinking it through at all.

"Why don't we make a bet," the words pour out of my mouth. I don't know who exactly is speaking but apparently it's me because it sounds like my voice.

"What kind of bet?"

I daringly move closer to him, attempting to be intimidating. "A bet which involves, if you win, which is highly doubtful," I snort, basically because I never lose, and partly because I must win. He winning is not optional, "Me being your girlfriend."

His face lights up like a Christmas tree and I'm aware that he's staring at my lips, but he shakes himself back to reality.

"What's the catch?"

Catch? Oh. I didn't really think of that part. Um...What thing does he love in the whole world that I can take away? Something he'll miss? I can't actually steal a Marauder...though I could fit Peter into the wooden chest beside my bed, but I imagine he would smell.

"You have to give up Quidditch for a week."

Har har! I am victorious! He could never give up Quidditch for a week. I am an evil mastermind!

...I think these Head duties have affected my brain.

"And what if I lose?"

"I shave all you hair off," I smirk. Yes, it's random, but he loves his hair. And plus, no other girl would go out with him if he was bald. Bald men repulse women. It's a fact.

"So, have we got a bet?" I say, and stretch out my hand ready to shake.

...I'm not sure if I can go through this. If I lose this bet, there is a lot to lose. Me, going out with James Potter? It just cannot happen. Maybe James is stronger at resisting Quidditch than I think…I steal a glance at him and he has a frustrated expression, as if he's arguing with his thoughts.

I've decided. I can't go through this bet. It's ludicrous. Me, betting? I'm not a gambling person. I can't believe I even suggested it in the first place.

But suddenly James touches his hand against mine and he's shaking it, before I can pull away. It's too late.

"Okay," he says, without a hint of concern in his voice.

As we're staring each other in the eye, trying to see who will snap first, James startles me by pulling my hand forward and pressing it to his lips. I get a tingle and I'm absolutely furious.

I smack him upside the head. Fool.

"Bet starts tomorrow," I tell him, "Goodnight."

I turn on my heel and flounce up the common room stairs, making sure to act calm by humming. Humming is normal, right? Right?

Oh God. What have I done?

The second I shut the dorm door, I look down at my hand he kissed and somehow find myself not wiping it; even though it's sweaty.

I am so screwed.