A/N: And so here it is (finally – I know, I know – I left you on a cliffie, and I'm forever apologetic, but the words just wouldn't flow until today, and I wanted it to be its best), the final chapter. Unfortunately, I don't feel it channels the humour I've tried to create through this story as well as I'd have liked, but as compensation of sorts there is some lovely fluff and obviously the plot finds itself tied up (hopefully without any mistakes…). I'd also like to add that the reference to crashing the bike into the rubbish bin is inspired by my older sister learning to ride a bike. I never intend to let her live it down, and so I mention it here (little sisters rule!). So without further babbling on my behalf, I present the tenth (FINAL!) chapter of Dealing With A Marauder.

Dedication (because I'm a sap): To all the readers & reviewers who've lent their eyes, brains, other complicated body parts, time and hearts to this nowhere near perfect story – thanks and love, this chapter's for you.

Previously, we left – rather up in the air – with Lily thinking murderous thoughts about James Potter, of course. She's beginning to work out her feelings, and this, predictably, only adds to her level of insanity and frustration. And here, we find out why, exactly, she wants to kill that Potter guy…

Chapter Ten: Feelings not withstanding

"It's just like flying; only not in air!"

As an optimist – which many people don't believe, which is of course rid-ic-u-lous. I mean, just coz a guy's last name is the most ominous of colours… and his whole family is a bit insane, evil, dark and twisted… and the fact that he's burned down that many buildings… It doesn't mean anything. Really. I'm optimistic.

Not at all brood-y.

Anyway, as an optimist there are certain hopes and expectations one may have for their life.

You know. Moments of absolute elation… joy… happiness and so on, so forth.

A list of such moments may include riding a bike for the first time (providing of course, you don't tragically run it into the nearest possible garbage bin), getting married (I, uh, think? -- You know, if you're into the eternal commitment "til death do us part, and beyond!" type-thing) and, of course…

Waterskiing on the lake of your favourite, and only, magical high school.

This was pure bliss.

My water-skis bounced off a wave, sending me airborne for a moment, before I landed again on the water. A perfect show of skills, I'd wager.

I could only wonder why no one had told me about this great sport before. It almost outdid Quidditch.

Almost.

It felt like I was flying, except there was a constant take off/land factor going on that made it ten zillion times better. And harder, I suppose. Which would explain why Peter isn't the one on the skis.

I bounced off another wave; I felt weightless and then –

SMASH! Or, more appropriately, SPLASH.

And it hurt (since when was water this hard?). And it was freezing. And was that –

James bloody Potter! Laughing at me?!

Well, I spose that wouldn't really be a first.

Then, in my true optimistic colours, I got up and continued battling the waves.

--

"Submission to Peer Pressure, the Consequences of"

It had never occurred to me that I had been peer pressured into anything particularly significant.

And by that I mean 'life or death' significant.

No, I had always had my wits about me. I'd had the strength to say, in a deep, strong voice: "No! For the sake of all things morally correct, and common sense, no!"

That is, at least, up until now.

A realisation which hit me when I was a couple of hundred metres above the ground, on a strip of wood, travelling at immeasurable speeds, where I was contemplating the end of my life.

Firstly, I haven't written a will. Which, I suppose isn't such a big deal since I am not an adult, and therefore technically speaking, don't own a thing.

Secondly, I had been peer pressured into this broom-ride and therefore into my death: smooth moves, Pete!

Thirdly, I haven't experienced the bliss of life adequately! No love, no loss, no firewhisky…

This was not at all good.

I couldn't die now.

My knuckles were white from my extreme grip on the broomstick.

It seemed to have mind of its own as well. I mean, steering? Near impossible.

You know, it sounded like a good idea at the time.

"Hey, Pete! Why don't you try the enchanted broomsticks?" Sirius had said.

"Yeah, Pete – that'll be fun!" James had encouraged.

"I don't see what could go too wrong with that, I mean, we tested them and they're safe…" Remus had added.

"Oh, yeah, well… sure!"

And that was all it took to convince me to take the ride of my life – or, more appropriately - death.

As if on cue and to my ultimate terror, the broomstick began to nose-dive.

Shit, shit, shit!

I leant back in the hope that this would somehow save me, and closed my eyes: this was it, this was how I was going to die.

And then I felt cold…and wet…

Gosh. What a weird place the afterlife was.

Something was tugging me upwards, and then a rush of sounds pierced the silence.

"Pete?"

That sounded a whole lot like Sirius…

"Pete?"

Well if Sirius was in my heaven, I'd just have to kick him out.

But Heaven-Sirius seemed to have beat me to that one.

"Ouch!"

My stomach was not accustomed to being kicked, and despite my not-quite-petite size, it hurt.

My eyes flicked open, right into those of Sirius.

I screamed.

This was not Heaven. This was hell.

Sirius grew perplexed.

"Pete, mate?"

"… Sirius? Is it really you?"

"Yep. The one and only. Are you really Peter? Because you're really starting to freak me out…"

I huffed. 'Was I still Peter'! Honestly.

"Yes," I said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, because it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Right. Well that was one mighty big crash you had."

"Yeah. Well, thankfully my life's over now."

"What are you talking about?" Sirius' eyebrows knitted together in complete confusion.

"Oh don't play dumb – you know I'm dead," I sulked.

And then he smacked me upside on the back of my head.

"Ow! What was that for!?"

The afterlife was turning out to be more painful than it was worth.

Sirius rolled his eyes impatiently. It wasn't my fault – this whole 'death' thing was rather new to me, how was I supposed to know all the answers?

"Look around, you wang."

I complied, and noticed that indeed I was a 'wang'.

In fact, I might've even been a 'donkey-Dora', whatever that was.

(I assumed that it was bad and humiliating).

As I scanned my surroundings, it became extremely apparent that I was still in Hogwarts, in the Great Lake, and quite obviously on planet Earth.

Indeed, I was not at all dead. I checked my pulse. Yep, definitely living.

All I could manage was a meek, "Oh."

Sirius promptly laughed his head off.

"Shut up, I thought I was dead!" Didn't he care? This was significantly distressing.

"I know!" He continued his cackling before sobering up slightly, "Maybe you should take it easy with the broomsticks, eh?"

"Alright," I grumbled, resembling something not dissimilar to a drowned cat.

Note to self: submission to peer pressure equals bad.

--

"The Mastermind's guilt"

I looked at Peter and Sirius in the lake from my spot at the Beech Tree.

Peter didn't seem so happy about his crash into the lake, as he clung, frustrated, to … whatever that was Sirius was sitting on.

My stomach was in a significant amount of pain, due to the fact that the image of Peter speeding into the lake on a broomstick he couldn't control could most possibly be the funniest of all images I'd seen.

I chucked once more, and then turned to the grass field in front of me.

I frowned slightly, feeling a twinge of guilt.

The grass plain had been skilfully – if I may say so – transformed into an obstacle course of sorts, whereby people could enter and experience various charms and spells which made them do 'fun' things: be temporarily suspended in mid air, be tickled for twenty seconds, grow springs off their feet, et cetera, et cetera.

It was a fascinating display of magical skills, pretty much all my magical skills – but I was just fine sitting here pretending I had absolutely no part in this whole thing.

--

"Hell hath no fury…"

I scanned the grounds, unable to believe they were the grounds.

But in the great mess, there was only one thing – one person – I was looking for.

I was like a tiger and he was like my prey, and… analogies never work for this kind of thing, do they?

I was looking for him. So I could express various forms of hate.

Until finally I spotted him: standing proudly – arrogantly – at the opposite side of the lake, overseeing his chaos.

My mind was set, I began my journey to him.

Ironically, and extremely inconveniently, I tripped as I crossed the doorframe.

"Confessions & Expressions"

Well, I had to hand it to Pete: this plan was truly spectacular – in the never preceded kind of way.

Of course it was a team effort, but the unique idea…we'd never mastered something so complex; so visually rich.

However what I loved most about it was that it would certainly do more than just settle the score with Miss Evans.

But did I really care about settling scores with her anymore? The competitive part of my nature seemed completely diminished; and it scared me. It was scary.

I was so far past the 'crush' stage with this girl.

Her gorgeous hair, her determined eyes, her smart words – chosen carefully, when she wasn't completely flustered, the way she could think of endless insults to throw at me…which of course, I saw right through. It wasn't just the things I could see either, there was so much more than that…

Deep down she felt something for me, I knew it - I just wasn't sure how deep exactly those feelings were.

I sighed, ruffling my hair. Regardless of how buried those feelings were, I'd come to a conclusion: I wasn't going to make her love me. I couldn't make her love me. Refraining from asking her out every thirty seconds had taught me a thing or two, the most important being what I liked to call "don't smother the lover". I could settle for being friends, if it meant that I could talk to her.

As long as we weren't enemies trying to kill each other through annoyance or deals or whatever, I could live.

"James Potter," the aforementioned girl-of-more-than-crush barely spat out, her voice indicating more so than the wand she had pressed into my throat that attempts to kill were quite apparent.

"Lily!" I tried to sound as pleasant as I could, knowing how in trouble with this witch I was. Unfortunately the fear in my voice was audible. And there goes my masculinity…

"What, exactly is this?!" she withdrew from her lethal proximity and crossed her hands over her chest, clearly unimpressed by the very impressive prank.

I'd have liked to have answered her question with: Just the best prank ever. Ever.

But I didn't think she'd appreciate that very much, judging by the frustration exuding from each of her words.

"I do believe that the most appropriate term would be 'ultimate prank'."

I think I felt her fuming from a good forty centimetres away, and quickly added in my best 'please don't curse me!' voice, "Well, you know… the challenge was on, Lils."

"Yes, but this – this –" Lily Evans knew how to gesture, "is dangerous and just…"

I couldn't help it; I smirked. She knew how fabulous this was. How much magical skill it demonstrated… Well, at least how much of Remus' magical skill it demonstrated.

"Why are you smirking?!"

Shit. I'd come across as arrogant again. And it was all I could do to refrain from laughing at Lily's near-perfect McGonagall impression.

"I -" I began to defend myself, but clearly she was having none of that.

"Look, I don't need this. I don't need this at all. I think the Headmaster ought to know about what's going on out here, since there's a good chance half the castle will be destroyed before lunch time."

I felt guilty; a new thing for me. Everything was new when it came to her. Especially how much of a girl I was turning into whenever I thought about her.

Lily promptly marched off at intense speeds towards the castle, leaving me to contemplate the situation.

I wasn't at all worried about what the Headmaster's reaction would be, since Sirius and I had been to see him quite a few times regarding this type of prankster behaviour.

And then, for once, my thinking did me some good.

The Headmaster… technically, if she told him… that would be breaking the deal…

I whirled around and sprinted after Lily, not entirely sure why I cared if she lost or not.

--

Once again, I found myself extremely pissed off, walking at an incredible pace, wondering who exactly James thought he was.

Who did he think he was!?

I rounded a corner, and there he was. Leaning casually against the wall of the corridor. I had no idea how he had gotten there so fast to look so perfect…ly calm, but I ignored him, and continued my path to the Headmaster's office.

"Lily!" he called after me – like I had not just blown up at him for his idiotic actions, "Wait up one second!"

He quickly caught up, keeping up with my pace effortlessly. The advantages of extra height and muscle.

If he thought I was about to have a chat about the weather, or how much he 'loved' me, he had another thing coming. Crazy or not, I would not converse with the reaper of havoc.

"I just wanted to inform you," why was he so persistent with the conversation-making? "that what your doing… kind of breaks the terms of the deal. In the most possible kind of way, since it's the Headmaster, I suppose…"

Oh crap. The deal… to think I'd be the one breaking it again.

"Anyway, since you're about to break it, I was just going to inform you that this means I win, and we'll be dating soon."

That caught my attention.

I stopped, and snapped my head towards him.

Images flashed through my head like a movie trailer of the dream I had last night. James looking down at me, his eyes full of something I couldn't pinpoint – honesty?; me shoving him up against the doorframe, without leaving room for negative space between us.

I flushed, and subsequently wished I could run away. And yet there he stood, waiting for my reaction.

"Deal, or no deal, I'm telling Dumbledore. Even if it means I have to date you."

He appeared hurt, and I felt mean, but then his expression was replaced by a dazzling smile.

"Well, I feel the need to accompany you, then, since I'd like to present my side of the story should your account prove biased."

"Fine."

And so we continued walking.

And so we walked – literally – right into the Headmaster.

"Oh – I'm sorry professor!" I exclaimed, embarrassed that I'd pretty much crashed into the world's greatest wizard.

"That is no problem, Miss Evans. These corners are unpredictable!" Dumbledore smiled at me warmly.

He would so be the best grandfather.

"'Sup Professor," James greeted with a tilt of his head.

"James! How's it going my boy?"

"Not bad, sir, not bad," James continued casually, as if Dumbledore was his best friend.

And then they did a handshake.

Not the generic, 'how do you do' shake that the rules of polite, advanced society would demand.

No, to my astonishment (and yet again, fear for my sanity – this bloody boy), it was more like a 'yo bro, wassup in da hood' kind of handshake.

My eyes widened to an impossible extent at this exchange, and I was so completely shocked that I hardly heard the conversation continue around me.

"So what brings you two inside when everyone seems to be outside?" Dumbledore asked James. He then added with a well-practised wink and twinkle of his eyes, "Or should I not ask?"

I had no idea the Hogwart's Headmaster could use such innuendo.

James laughed, and for the first time ever, I saw him flush a faint pink.

"No, uh… no. Professor, Lily just wanted to inform you of something," James prompted.

"Oh – uh… yes, that's right," I glanced at James briefly, and my brain stopped working.

"….Yes?" Dumbledore encouraged.

Fantastic. Now the Headmaster thought I was an incompetent and in the meanwhile, is gangster-buddies with James.

"W-well," throw in a stutter for good measure, why don't I? "There seems to be a problem with the grounds sir."

"A problem?" Dumbledore's Santa Claus eyebrows knitted in a frown of confusion.

"Yes Sant-Sir," the price of letting your thoughts run wild, likening the eyebrows of your high school's Headmaster to the eyebrows of the one and only Father Christmas, a mythical character with rosy cheeks, comes a little too high.

"And… could you elaborate on this problem, Miss Evans?"

By this stage James was smirking in a ridiculously annoying fashion.

"Well, you see…him!"

I pointed dramatically at James, who was clearly stunned.

Dumbledore merely laughed. He definitely thought I was batty. Damn, no chances as Head Girl, then…

James recovered, and his smirk returned to aggravate me further.

I'd had it – between a Headmaster who laughed at me because I was crazy, and the smirking idiot who was the reason I was crazy – I exploded.

Well, in a semi-polite kind of way.

"Professor, with all respect, it's not funny! There are people – Sirius Black – is waterskiing on the lake… Peter Pettigrew, of all people, is being trusted on a broomstick. And then there's all sorts of curses being fired this way and then that. I mean, don't you think something should be done!?"

That was a little dramatic for my taste, but desperate times, desperate measures.

"Actually, Miss Evans, no I do not," he replied ever so calmly.

"What?" I couldn't believe my ears.

The Marauders had pretty much sent the entire school into total chaos, but that was okay?!

"I see no harm in a little spot of harmless fun every now and again, Miss Evans. Don't you agree?"

I nearly choked on the air I inhaled.

Coughing slightly, I shook my head, seeing no point in arguing with the headmaster.

"Excellent," he continued, his eyes infuriatingly placid, "Well, if you'll both excuse me – that waterskiing sounds … what's the word you use?"

"Awesome, Professor?" James offered.

Headmaster's pet.

"Ah yes, 'awesome'!"

And with that, Dumbledore – one of the greatest wizards there ever lived ever – walked out of the entrance to the castle to try his luck on the waves; a concept I couldn't quite get my head around.

I finally caught up with time, and made the mistake of looking at James.

He was smirking, hair perfectly ruffled, a look of triumphant I-told-you-so plastered to his face.

My patience had grown far too short for him.

"I hate you, James Potter," I spat in the most horrible way I could – which wasn't very, since I'd been humiliated just moments earlier – before storming off in a way only I had mastered.

"Lily, wait!" he called after me, but there was no way I was waiting for him.

The sound of his footsteps following me subsided and I breathed a little easier: I'd lost him.

Some nerve that boy had.

I cried out in shock, and almost died, when 'that boy' decided to spontaneously appear in front of me.

How could he? Oh –

"I hate the fact that you know this castle inside out and back-to-front," I informed him, not at all impressed at his appearance, nor the fact that he had blocked my way.

"Anything else you hate me for?" he inquired. He left me no time to answer before he continued, "Listen, I know you're mad -"

Mad?!

Mad was a whole billion worlds back from whatever I was feeling now.

"- but please, just… listen."

"Listen to what, James?" I asked scathingly, "Your latest declaration of love? Tell me – did you write a poem this time?"

I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling somewhat triumphant with my choice of words.

"No, I -" James sighed, slightly pissed off.

I raised my eyebrows expectantly.

"You…" I prompted impatiently.

He snapped.

"I'm sorry you're so bloody pissed off about this prank – even though you probably secretly think it's the most damn amazing thing you've ever seen – and I'm sorry I feel a hell of a lot for you – believe me, because this -" he gestured between us, " – is not at all good for my health."

Perhaps, had he said it any other way, I would have brushed his comments off lightly. But there was guilt in my gut.

"I'm not pissed off about your pranks, James!"

I ignored the feeling in my stomach.

"Then what the hell is it?!"

"I don't know!"

We stared intensely at each other, in a short silence, before I continued.

"The bet. Deal. Whatever you want to call it."

He looked at me, completely disbelieving, or confused – I couldn't tell.

"Well, why did you agree to it then?" His voice was high-pitched, frustrated… and I would have laughed, except I was distracted by our argument.

"You were there – and Sirius too! All 'Mr Intimidation'!" I said accusingly, waving my arms spectacularly – yet another sign of my insanity.

"That may be so, but when you broke the deal, you threatened me to keep it going!"

"I was hardly going to lose! I don't lose. Especially when that would mean you would win."

Childish, but true.

I heard him mutter something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like 'bloody women'.

He looked at me squarely.

"So it's about winning then?"

What was that supposed to mean?

"Isn't that what it's always been about?"

He looked away, my guilt-gut felt worse, and I got the impression there was a lot more to it than winning.

But hadn't I known that already?

--

I looked back at her again. She couldn't be that oblivious, could she? I mean, the girl was an academic – she had to have some wits about her.

I sighed heavily.

"No. It's not just about winning – as much as that would be nice. I don't know if you've noticed that I have spent a whole lot of time with you since this thing started."

"Yeah, I had noticed that one…" she mentioned, her mind absent.

"Yeah, well – I know you now – more than ever -"

She opened her mouth to protest, but I held up an arm to stop her, which to my surprise actually worked.

"- And if I thought I had feelings for you before… let's just say that was tiny; insignificantly small compared to what I feel now."

I deliberately excluded the word 'love' from my statement, anticipating the scepticism that word would stir in her.

Lily remained silent; stunned, if that was possible for her.

"But the thing is," I continued, taking advantage of her silence, "I'm not going to make you love me – I clearly can't, since I've tried just about everything. I can settle for friends, if that's the best relationship I can have with you."

There, that sounded very un-arrogant-ish.

Lily remained thoughtful before she responded.

"Friends…" she played with the sound the word created.

My stomach sank. She was going to laugh in my face, I knew it.

That's what I get for putting my cards on the table.

"Can we be friends?" I asked, in spite of myself.

She hesitated, and my self-doubt skyrocketed.

"Yes, James, I believe we can, on one condition."

And so my heart promptly skipped a beat.

--

James looked like he could jump over the moon – a look which made him far too handsome.

"Okay, what's the condition?"

"The deal's off."

"Okay, deal."

I rolled my eyes.

"Friends?" he extended his hand.

That sounded like a good.

"Friends," I smiled and shook his hand.

A couple of seconds later and our hands were still together.

And then I saw his perfectly messy hair, his eyes glimmering with happiness, his defined jaw-line, and the doorframe directly behind him.

--

Words couldn't really describe the shock that being shoved (none too carefully) against the doorframe and being lip-smashed by Lily Evans created.

My mind whirled into some other dimension, and I thought I was dead (something that, ordinarily, only Peter would think).

But death couldn't be this nice.

Unfortunately, the need for oxygen prevailed and I managed to pull away, gasping for air.

"Friends?" I asked, with an eyebrow raised sceptically.

"Screw it," she paused, "I think I should get to decide our relationship status."

A woman in charge… Nice.

"And what would be your decision?"

"Well… I was thinking something along the lines of 'more than friends'."

I raised my hands in surrender, unable to hide my smile.

"No problems here." – and there really weren't.

"Good," she leaned in (or up, for height reasons) and kissed me again, something I wasn't sure I could ever get used to.

Thankfully practise makes perfect.

"So…" I murmured between our lip-age, "Any ideas as to what we can do to fill in time now?"

I received a whack on the head for that and winced. Apparently her kisses made me lose control over thought and speech, allowing me to say things I really shouldn't.

"Too sleezy?" I ventured.

"Too sleezy," she clarified, but kissed me again anyway.

The end.

A/N: Well there you have it. It's complete. Yay! There's probably going to be an epilogue chapter posted, which is why this won't be marked as "complete". Let me know what you'd like to see happen, and I'll see if I can work it in.

100 Love,

Michelle