Author's Note:

I'm not the best at updating. So I apologize in advance. The good news is that I have several chapters written already so it shouldn't be a huge wait. However, because I'm a busy 18-year-old girl, I really can't promise anything more than an update once a month. If that's a huge problem, you may want to rethink starting this story. On the other hand, I personally think it's really good so you should definitely read it. This story has been my brain child for almost 2 years now so I hope you enjoy!

So without further ado, I present: "How to Woo" (title pending possible alteration)

Ch. 1 Your Type

I always loved Lily. That much was an understood fact. The grass is green, the sky is blue, James Potter is in love with Lily Evans. Just as potions class is always awful, I always loved Lily. It just took me until I was eleven to discover that I loved her, and much longer to figure out how to love her.

Unfortunately, eleven-year-old boys show their attraction in odd ways; they tease the object of their attraction. My closest friends and I, the Marauders, used her as our main target for our many pranks. But we didn't pull just any pranks, we went to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, so any prank we pulled was infinitely more extravagant and destructive then any prank a Muggle could pull.

The Marauders and I were popular; there wasn't a single soul in Hogwarts who didn't laugh at our pranks. We were always the center of attention and when we weren't around it just wasn't as good a time. Even the older students appreciated our jokes and treated us as equals, probably because they didn't want to end up at the butt end of one of our pranks; we didn't discriminate based on age. This unfortunately swelled my young ego so that I simply assumed Lily Evans loved me back because I was James Potter, one of the Marauders and the most popular boy at Hogwarts. I was so cocky as to believe that she was in denial for six years, a foolish mistake on my part. It never occurred to me that I might not one day convince Lily Evans to return my love.

Reality finally settled in on July 21st of the summer before my seventh year, the day my father died. All my foolish self-obsession was ended when I finally realized that life wouldn't be served to me on a silver platter. It struck me then that if Lily Evans had told me seventeen thousand six hundred and ninety-two and a half times that she didn't love me, she probably wasn't lying.

I remember the funeral vividly. There were many Aurors there, friends of my father. He had died in the line of duty, fighting a rising group of dark wizards called the Death Eaters. The wake had been closed coffin.

A yellow rose with a single thin bow of black ribbon hung listlessly from each person's hands. My sweet mother was crying silently into her handkerchief and she held my shoulder tightly. I didn't cry; I wanted to be strong for my mother. My cousin, Antoinette sang a compelling and almost eerie hymn in her high, sweet, angelic voice. She was in my year at Hogwarts and has remained one of my closest friends since childhood.

After the ceremony it was Antoinette who found me sitting in the childhood tree fort my father and I had built together—Muggle style—with just a little magic to make it warm in the winter. She didn't say anything to me but she didn't need to. She sat on the grimy, weatherworn plywood floor next to me, ruining her pretty silk dress, and held me, pulling my head onto her shoulder and quietly stroking my unruly hair. We sat together like that till the sun set and I knew my mother would be looking for me. I never did cry for my father; I didn't feel the need.

Antoinette, affectionately known as Toinette, is best friends with Lily and has always supported me in my attempts to win Lily over. She is also the girlfriend of my closest friend and fellow Marauder, Sirius. Lightly put—and Lily would certainly word this differently—Sirius was a bit careless with girls' hearts for most of his life. Regardless, he dated almost every girl in the school, with a few exceptions (obviously including my Lily), and they all seemed to believe that he was truly in love with them and wouldn't break their heart as he had so many girls' before. You may call him heartless but it's not like every girl wasn't forewarned every time he "ended" the relationship with some girl or other.

He had a hell of a time when he fell for Antoinette though. She wouldn't take any of his crap and it took him a year (as opposed to my seven thus far with Lily) to convince her he wasn't just screwing around. Of course she had the assurance that no friend of mine would ever hurt my favorite cousin. She was the first girl he dated for longer then a month. I told them they would have to get married one day and I made Sirius promise I'd be the best man and the godfather of their first-born.

Anyway, with my father's death and my realization of Lily's lack of loving feelings toward me weighing heavily on my mind, I returned to Hogwarts. The first time I saw her again I completely forgot my previous resolution and returned briefly to my old antics.

"I dreamed about you again," I told my angel, as I sat down besides her, completely ignoring the Sorting Ceremony beginning behind me.

"Is that so?" More like my demon, she tortured me endlessly. She turned her head to look vehemently towards the front of the hall and even more vehemently away from me.

"Mmm, hmm," I followed, pretending not to notice her disinterest. "You didn't hate me."

"That's nice." Her voice was politely distant; she was barely listening, toning me out within the applause as a pale, blonde and curly haired girl was sorted into Ravenclaw.

"Don't you want to hear about it?" I whined, hating her for making me work so hard but loving her for being so impeccably Lily.

"Not really." How could she keep missing how bad it hurt? The curt dismissals, the abrupt interruptions corroded my very soul but I still kept chugging down the burning, acidic gulps.

"How come?" Maybe I'd get a real answer for once…

"How come you won't leave me alone?" She finally looked at me; I forgot to open my mouth to speak when I saw those eyes.

"How come you won't go out with me?"

She turned back towards the front, avoiding my gaze again. "That's none of your business."

"Oh come on Lily," I begged, so easily frustrated. "Just answer the question. Besides, if it's anyone's business I'd definitely say it's mine, as I'm the guy you keep rejecting." I carefully kept my tone casual and as un-hurt as I could manage.

She frowned in irritation, calculating how to get me to shut up I assume. "You aren't my type." It seems she decided on the truth.

"Then what is your type?" I was hopeful; I could be anything for her. Just then Dumbledore interrupted with his start of the year announcements and I was forced to shut up, at least for a little while.

"So will you tell me what your type is?" I asked Lily later as I dug into the treacle tart, my favorite.

"That's none of your business," she told me again, and this time she was kind of right but I didn't care.

"Well, how can I become your type if you won't tell me what 'your type' is?" I insisted, using air quotes. From across the table I saw Antoinette look anxiously at me. She clearly saw Lily's rising temper even if I chose to ignore it.

"Because I don't want you to be my type, okay?" Lily responded, her eyes flashing. Antoinette almost said something but she held back.

"No," I shook my head ruefully, unfortunately making her even more furious. "That's not okay. You see, I have a slight problem; I'm in love with you. And if you won't let me be your type then it'll never work out and then I'll be damned to eternal suffering." I was a bit melodramatic. Honest, but melodramatic.

"James," Lily glared at me as forcefully as she could. I was too deliriously happy that she'd called me by my first name to notice. "You are not my type, and you will never be my type. Even if you were, I'd probably still hate you as much as ever so would you please leave me alone?"

I must have done a good job at hiding the feeling like a knife in my gut because her expression didn't soften a bit. "Just let me try?" I begged. "Just tell me what your type is and I'll try to be that. If I fail, then so be it, and I'll be right where I am now. If I succeed then I'll be the happiest man alive." I held my breath.

Lily glared at me for a moment. I loved watching her think, seeing her calculating look as she decided on the best way to get me to leave her alone. "Fine, I'll tell you," she finally said, giving in. She grimaced at my look of sudden elation and complete joy. It went against the grain for her to make me happy. "But not now." She had to deter my happiness somewhat. "After the feast."

"Do you promise?" I wasn't taking any chances.

"Yes," she sighed in exasperation. "I promise."

"You promise what?" I knew I was really starting to bug her but I desperately needed it to work.

She glared daggers at me. "James," she warned. I kept my face patiently waiting. "I promise to tell you what my type is later tonight," she hissed at me. I swear I could feel icicles forming on the ends of my hair.

Those were the last words she spoke to me at that meal, and I didn't try to get her to talk to me either. I didn't want to push my luck. She had a pleasant but boring conversation about N.E.W.T.S. with Remus and I laughed with Toinette about anything that came to mind, mainly the most recent family spat over some foolish and insulting words passed after too much alcohol; the usual.

At the end of the meal I was just about to stand up, laughing as Toinette grabbed another brownie (she was still eating non stop back then), when Dumbledore called us to attention. "I have one last thing that I forgot to mention earlier," he informed us, "I'd like to introduce to the school, our two Heads for the year; they know who they are." I smiled to myself, "Miss Lily Evans," polite applause as she stood and beamed about the hall, "and Mr. James Potter." The hall was silent as I stood and then broke out into wild cheers and applause. I laughed aloud at my overly enthusiastic welcome but my smile froze when I saw Lily's incredulous and fuming expression.

Once the clapping and laughter died down Dumbledore spoke again. "I'd like to speak to the Heads now and I bid the rest of you a very good night's sleep."

As benches scraped back and first years stared openly at us, Lily and I made our way up to the Headmaster. She kept a few steps ahead of me and didn't even acknowledge that I was behind her.

"Lily, James," Dumbledore smiled warmly upon us. "Come, come. Follow me." He led us through a small door behind the teacher's table into a series of dark passageways. I'd been through them before of course, due to my many nighttime wanderings, but I was reasonably sure Lily hadn't. "I want to show you two your private rooms, made just for the Heads. They're particularly suited to the two of you. I think you'll like them."

We approached an aging portrait of a slim Elizabethan woman in a fashionable (in that time period) ball gown. "This is Rosalie," Dumbledore gestured to the woman. "How are you today, madam," he addressed the lovely, brunette woman in the painting.

"Quite well, Headmaster. And you?" she responded with impeccable pronunciation and a demure smile.

"Positively dapper, thank you," responded Dumbledore with no outward signs of noticing his unique vocabulary. "These are our new Heads, Miss Lily Evans and Mr. James Potter."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Rosalie said.

"The pleasure's all mine," I told her with a slight bow. Rosalie giggled, Lily glowered, Dumbledore grinned.

"The password is 'armada'. I'll leave you two to settle down in peace. The house elves unpacked for you," he told us as the portrait swung forward. "Oh," he paused before he walked away, "And don't bother giving the password to anyone else. Rosalie will only open for the two of you and myself or Professor McGonagall. The password is just an extra security precaution against Polyjuice potions and such."

Without a glance back at the Headmaster I led the way into the Head's Wing. I could feel Lily glaring at my back. The main room was rather like the Gryffindor common room except a bit smaller and much more personal. There were separate desks for Lily and me, stocked with parchment, ink and quills. Directly across the room was a door that, on further investigation, opened to reveal a gleaming bathroom of polished marble and a huge bathtub/hot tub that resembled the one in the Prefect's bathroom with some thirty different taps. (I was never a prefect but I blackmailed Remus to tell me the password once.)

My room was perfect for me. I walked through it slowly, touching everything briefly with my fingertips. There was a massive four-poster bed, with tons of pillows like my bed back in the Gryffindor dorms, dominating a large portion of the space, as well as my trunk at the foot of my bed with a quilt draped over it and a dresser against the opposite wall. A small piano sat in the corner. I didn't approach it right away, however, knowing that I wouldn't be able to resist spending half the night at it if I did. There were Quiddich posters up on the walls, a special stand just for my broom in the corner, and, most importantly of all, a picture on my nightstand of Lily and Toinette laughing together from the end of last year. They weren't looking at the camera, because otherwise Lily would have been scowling, but just smiling together. It was my favorite picture, of my two favorite people. I held it gently in my hands and sunk onto my bed, gazing at it.

A cough interrupted my thoughts. "Excuse me," said a portrait of an old, wrinkled wizard in a dark corner of my room. I hadn't noticed the drab, gray-blue canvas before. "The Headmaster would like me to inquire if you are in need of anything and if the rooms are to your liking."

"Oh yes," I set the picture frame down too rapidly, cringing as it made a loud bang. "Yes, tell him I'm quite comfortable. If you don't mind," I added.

The man smiled at my politeness; my charm worked on everyone, almost. "Yes I will," he answered with a nod. "Just so you know, I'm a messenger from the Headmaster to yourself to let you know of any emergency. I'll spend most of my time in the Headmaster's office. You're best off not hearing from me. I'll hopefully not be in touch." He nodded again and then disappeared.

"Odd little man," I murmured to my self. I gave the photograph one last longing glance and walked from the room, rubbing away the ceaseless disappointment my love for Lily entitled and the start of a headache that tended to accompany it.

Lily's door was adjacent on the other side of the room. She was gazing out of her huge bay window at the lake, clearly lost in thought. I knocked lightly on the doorframe, looking around at the French style furniture that looked as though it belonged in Versailles. She spun around quickly, her eyes flashing when she saw me. She stormed across the room, her nose flaring in a most terrifying manner, and slammed the door in my face.

I stood quite still for a moment, surprised the door hadn't hit me and broken my nose. I didn't really care either way; it was already slightly crooked from being hit by multiple Bludgers. I knocked again on her door.

No answer.

I knocked harder.

No answer.

I pounded. "Lily. Come on Lily. I don't even know what I did, this time."

No answer. I slouched against the door. "You can't avoid me forever," I told her. "We have to patrol the halls together, you know."

At that the door opened. I almost fell over. She glared at me for a moment, her cheeks hollow as though she was sucking on a lemon. I scrambled to my feet, hopeful. Then she slammed the door in my face again. This time it did hit my nose, but not hard enough to break it. It was bleeding and would just be sore for weeks.

"Okay, Lily, look." I called through the door, pinching my nose to stop the blood flow, almost laughing at my nasal voice. "I apologize most earnestly for whatever I've done to get you so angry. I'm sorry this is such a bad apology but I really don't know what I did."

She opened the door again, looking, if possible, even angrier. Her expression softened, however, when she saw the blood on my face and hand. She seemed to struggle with herself for a moment, but compassion won. I shuddered to think what would have happened if it hadn't.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, looking down at her feet. She disappeared into her room for a moment and then returned with a handkerchief, which she handed to me.

"It's quite alright," I told her, rejoicing at her apologetic smile. "Will you please tell me what I've done?"

Her mouth twitched into a cynical, self-deprecating smirk. "Sit down," she told me with a sigh, gesturing to one of the couches. I sat slowly. She sat beside me but with about a foot of space between us.

She looked at me for a long minute, weighing different explanations and predicting my reactions. Finally she spoke, slowly and undecided in tone. "I was angry, because you're Head Boy." She held up her hand to cut off my response. "You're everywhere," she explained. "It felt like you were following me, showing up everywhere I went. You're already in all of my classes."

I cringed at that; I had stolen her timetable from last year so I could request all the same classes. "I was absurdly selfish," she admitted, "I thought you'd become Head Boy just so you could harass me more." I was staring at her, my face shocked and uncomprehending. "I'm usually not this stupid," she added.

I came to myself at that. "You're not stupid," I told her.

She blushed. "You aren't angry?" she sounded like she couldn't decide to be relieved or wary.

"I couldn't be angry with you," I told her honestly. She blushed again. "But you do need to tell me what your type is." I reminded her.

"Oh yeah," her tone was dark and I was afraid we'd lost this brief, rather pleasant, moment. "My type," she twisted a piece of her beautiful auburn hair between her fingers. I stared, transfixed.

"Yup." I turned to face her on the couch and sat with my legs criss-crossed, perching my chin on my fists, the very picture of attentiveness. Lily smiled a little at me, a golden moment I tucked away in my mind to cherish later.

"No mocking me," she warned.

I made a hand motion of zipping my lips and she rolled her eyes in response.

"I guess I just like guys who are considerate," she said, glancing up at me. "I like it when someone's really old fashioned, the girl never asks a guy out, he buys a corsage for her when they go out on a fancy date, he carries her books for her and escorts her from class to class." I absorbed every detail word for word. "I want a guy who will make me chicken soup when I have a cold, and if I sneeze he'll get all nervous and ask if I'm getting the flu." She was smiling slightly now. I had to look away or else I would have gotten lost in gazing at her perfection and forget to breathe, or worse, forget to listen and memorize.

"I want him to be okay with meeting my family, I want him to be a musician." I was instantly thankful to my mother for forcing me to take piano lessons when I was younger; though I grew to like it I hated learning a 'girl instrument' at first. "I want a guy who's athletic and not too obsessed with himself." She shot me an accusing look, though I chose to keep my face completely innocent. "I want him to make me feel special, but not crowd me so much that I can't have my own life. He has to be thankful for me, to make me feel appreciated. I hate typical terms of endearment like baby or honey, I want him to call me—" she stopped, realizing whom she was talking to.

"What?" I encouraged.

She blushed, looking at me through her eyelashes. I could barely stand being so close to her but not allowed to grab her and kiss her when she looked at me like that. "I would want him to call me 'lady'," she admitted in a half-whisper, turning almost the color of her hair. I realized we were unknowingly leaning towards each other.

"Lady," I echoed. Then I just stared at her, waiting for her to continue.

"He has to have plans for his future," she continued, clearing her throat and sitting back. "He has to know where he wants to go and be determined to get there, and he has to have me planned into that future somewhere," she told me, her face slowly cooling. "And I want it to be a serious relationship. He has to be able to talk about marriage and kids, and he can't try to convince me to have sex before we're married." She blushed again.

I watched her face change color, completely entranced. "Must be hard to find, a guy with all those characteristics."

"Mostly I just find someone with most of the traits I want," she shrugged, "And then hope he changes to fit the rest."

"You should never compromise in love," I told her.

She blushed again, a habit of hers. "And what about you?" she asked me. "What do you want in a girl?"

I deliberated for a moment, and then decided on the truth. "I want a girl with the first name Lily and the last name Potter."

She blushed scarlet yet again. "That must be hard to find," she commented.

"I'll settle for a girl with the first name Lily, and then hope she changes to fit the rest," I answered.

"You should never compromise in love," she echoed my words with an ironic smile.

I raised an eyebrow. "Touché." I let her win that one.

She smiled and stood. "How's the nose?" she asked.

"I'm surprised you care," I said, too quiet for her to hear. I removed the handkerchief and touched my nose gently. "I think it's stopped."

"Well, keep the handkerchief anyway," she said, heading towards her room, "you may still need it." She hesitated at the door. "Goodnight," she told me.

"Night." I stared after her, completely mystified. I fought the sudden dizzy feeling spinning through me and the need to go bang her door down, grab her and snog her senseless. I chuckled to myself at how she would receive that gesture.

I washed my nose off in the bathroom and cleaned her handkerchief. I walked back to my room, dropped onto my bed and fell asleep hours later after much pondering and pleasant daydreams.

A/N: So how'd I do? Please let me know. As I said, updates should be forthcoming in about a month's time.