Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The Great Hall felt wrong when it wasn’t full.

It wasn’t empty, not quite, but the noise had thinned into something scattered and uneven, like a song missing half its notes. Plates clinked without rhythm, conversations rose and died too quickly, and the enchanted ceiling above—pale winter blue streaked with soft clouds—only made the long house tables seem paler in comparison.

James Potter sat slouched at the Gryffindor table, one arm hooked lazily over Sirius’s broad shoulders, the other pushing scrambled eggs around his plate without much interest. His glasses were slightly crooked, his hair (predictably) refused to lie flat, and his attention was very clearly somewhere else.

“Oi,” Sirius said, flicking a bit of toast crust at him. “You’re brooding. It’s unsettling.”

“I don’t brood,” James replied automatically, though his eyes weren’t on Sirius. They were scanning the Hall again. And again.

“You absolutely brood,” Remus added mildly, not looking up from his book. “It’s just less tragic and more pathetic.”

Peter snorted into his pumpkin juice.

James ignored them. His gaze swept over the Gryffindor table, then Hufflepuff, then back toward the entrance doors as if sheer determination might summon her through them.

She wasn’t there.

“She’s not coming,” Sirius said, following James’s line of sight with a knowing smirk. “Evans has better things to do than watch you pathetically pine over her like Jeff Buckley.”

James straightened a little, frowning. “I’m not pathetically pinning—what does that even mean?”

“It means,” Sirius said, grinning, “you’ve been staring at the door for ten minutes like a man starved when there’s food right infront of you.”

“I have not.”

“You have,” Peter said, far too cheerfully.

Remus turned a page. “Thirteen minutes, actually.”

James dragged a hand down his face. “I’m not waiting for her,” he muttered.

“Of course not,” Sirius said. “You’re just watching who goes in and out for fun.”

James didn’t respond to that, which was answer enough. Because the truth was—annoyingly, persistently, undeniably—he was waiting for her.

Lily Evans.

It wasn’t new, this… thing. It had been years in the making. Years of trying, failing, trying again. Years of clever lines that never quite landed, of smirks that got him nowhere, of detentions he half-suspected she secretly enjoyed assigning him through sheer spite.

But this year— this year was different.

He could feel it.

Something had shifted. Maybe it was him. Maybe it was her. Maybe it was the way she didn’t immediately walk away anymore, or the way her eyes lingered just a second longer than before when he spoke.

Or maybe he was completely delusional.

Either way, James had decided that by the end of this year, Lily Evans would fall for him.

It was truly a brilliant plan, maybe his best one yet.

A flicker of movement near the entrance caught his eye.

Red hair.

James was on his feet before his brain caught up.

“Where are you—” Sirius started, but James had already abandoned his plate, his friends, and any pretense of dignity as he bolted across the Hall.

He pushed through the doors, nearly colliding with a pair of Hufflepuffs, and caught sight of her just ahead— walking down the corridor, books stacked in her arms, her hair catching the light like a flame.

“Evans!” he called.

She didn’t stop.

James grinned despite himself and quickened his pace, catching up easily. “Evans, wait— don’t tell me you’re avoiding me. I’m wounded.”

“That would imply I was ever seeking you out,” Lily said, not breaking stride.

He fell into step beside her anyway.

“Harsh,” he said. “Especially considering I was just about to offer you the opportunity of a lifetime.”

She shot him a look. “If this is another attempt at asking me out, save it.”

“It’s not just that,” he said quickly. “It’s a holiday attempt at asking you out.”

“That’s not better.”

James ignored that. “Hear me out, yeah? Christmas break. Two whole weeks. You and me—Muggle London.”

That got her attention, if only slightly. Her grip on her books tightened as she glanced at him. “What?”

“You could show me around,” he continued, warming to the idea. “All those places you always go on about—cafés, shops, whatever it is Muggles do for fun. I’ll be charming, obviously. You’ll be impressed. It’s a whole thing.”

“You?” she said flatly. “In Muggle London?”

“I’d blend in beautifully.”

“You don’t even know how to dress like a normal person.”

James looked down at himself. “What’s wrong with how I dress?”

“Everything.”

He grinned. “You could fix that. See? It’s perfect already. Educational and romantic.”

“It’s neither of those things.”

“Come on, Evans,” he said, nudging her lightly with his shoulder. “You, me, the city, twinkling lights, festive spirit—”

“I’m staying at Hogwarts.”

James blinked. 

“You’re—what?”

“I’m staying,” she repeated, her tone matter-of-fact. “For the holidays.”

He slowed slightly, thrown off. “Why?”

She hesitated, just for a second. “I just am.”

James frowned, studying her more carefully now. She wasn’t looking at him anymore, her gaze fixed straight ahead, her expression a little too composed.

“Well,” he said after a moment, quickly recovering, “that’s… convenient.”

She arched a brow. “For who?”

“For me,” he said, as if it were obvious. “Means I don’t have to compete with all of London for your attention.”

She snorted softly despite herself, then caught it and shook her head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’ve been told,” he said easily.

They walked in silence for a few steps, the echo of their footsteps filling the corridor. Then, “You’re really staying?” he asked again, quieter this time.

“Yes.”

“For the whole break?”

“Yes, Potter.”

He exhaled slowly, then nodded once. “Alright.”

She glanced at him, clearly expecting more. Another joke, another attempt, another something. But James just shoved his hands into his pockets and offered a small, crooked smile.

“Guess I’ll have to adjust the plan, then.”

“There is no plan,” she said.

“Oh, there’s always a plan.”

She rolled her eyes, not dignifying him with a response.

He walked with her a little longer, until they reached the staircase that would take her up toward the library.

“Well,” he said, rocking back on his heels, “enjoy your thrilling holiday of reading books and… more books, I assume.”

She shifted her stack slightly. “I will.”

“And Evans?”

She paused on the first step, glancing back.

“Try not to miss me too much.”

She stared at him for a moment like she was trying to decide whether he was actually serious. “Goodbye, James,” she said finally.

Then she turned and climbed the stairs, her red hair disappearing from view.

James stood there for a second longer than necessary.

“Right,” he muttered to himself, scrubbing a hand through his already disastrous hair. “New plan.”

Because if Lily Evans was staying at Hogwarts for Christmas…

Then so was he.

And two weeks was more than enough time for him to charm her and get her to fall deeply and utterly inlove with him.

A slow grin spread across his face as he turned back toward the Great Hall.

Yeah.

This was going to work.

🦌۶ৎˎˊ˗ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶ🐦‍⬛

“It’s not going to work!”

Sirius Black’s voice rang through the Gryffindor boys’ dormitory, sharp with disbelief and just a hint of betrayal.

James Potter didn’t even look up.

He was sprawled across his bed, one leg hanging off the side, hands tucked behind his head like he hadn’t a single worry in the world. His trunk at the foot of the bed sat wide open and completely empty.

“I don’t see why not,” James said lazily, staring up at the canopy above him.

“You don’t see why not?” Sirius repeated, incredulous. “You don’t see why abandoning your best friend to suffer through Christmas with your parents alone—”

“My parents love you more than me,” James cut in.

“—and staying here,” Sirius continued, ignoring him, “for a girl who doesn’t even like you is a bad idea?”

Remus, seated cross-legged on his bed with a neatly folded pile of clothes beside him, sighed quietly. “To be fair, Sirius, Lily doesn’t hate him anymore.”

“That is a low bar, Moony,” Sirius snapped.

Peter, who was kneeling beside his trunk trying (and failing) to fold a jumper properly, nodded. “She only insults him, like… half the time now.”

“Progress,” James said, grinning to himself.

Sirius stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “No,” he said flatly. “No, I refuse to accept this. You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re absolutely joking.”

“I’m staying,” James said simply, finally pushing himself up onto his elbows. “Just me, the castle, and Evans.”

Sirius let out a strangled laugh, dragging a hand down his face. “You’ve gone mad.”

“Madly determined,” James corrected.

“Oh, that’s worse.”

Remus folded another pair of socks and set it aside. “James,” he said carefully, “you do realise that staying here doesn’t automatically mean Lily will spend time with you?”

“I’ll make it happen.”

“How?” Sirius demanded. “Are you planning to corner her in the corridors until she agrees to date you out of sheer exhaustion?”

James considered that for half a second.

“…No,” he said. “Though that’s not a bad idea.”

“Merlin help us,” Sirius muttered.

James swung his legs over the side of the bed and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. His usual joking expression softened. “She’s staying,” he said, like that explained everything. “That’s… new. She never stays.”

Remus’s expression shifted, something thoughtful flickering behind his eyes. “Maybe she has a reason.”

“Yeah,” Sirius said. “Maybe that reason is not wanting to be followed around by you for two weeks.”

James ignored him.

“I just—” He hesitated, searching for the right words, which wasn’t something he did often. “I think this is it. You know? This year.”

Peter blinked at him. “This year for what?”

James looked up, and there it was—that certainty, that stubborn, unshakable confidence that somehow managed to survive every rejection Lily Evans had ever thrown at him.

“I’m going to win her over.”

Sirius groaned loudly and flopped backward onto his bed, staring at the ceiling like it had personally offended him. “I can’t believe this is my life.”

“Think about it,” James went on, undeterred. “No classes. No distractions. Just… time. I can actually talk to her.”

“You already talk to her,” Sirius said. “She just tells you to go away.”

“Not always.”

“Usually.”

Remus leaned forward slightly. “What exactly is your plan, then?”

James paused.

“…I’ll figure that out.”

Sirius sat up again so fast he nearly fell off the bed. “You’re staying here— with no plan?”

“I have the outline of a plan.”

“You have nothing.”

“I have charm.”

“You have a problem.”

James just grinned. “You’ll see.”

“Oh, I will,” Sirius said darkly. “From the comfort of your massive, warm, fully decorated house, eating your mum’s cooking while you freeze to death here and get rejected repeatedly.”

“Hogwarts is also fully decorated,” James argued, ignoring the rejection part. “There’s also snow, peace and quiet, very romantic.”

“For who?” Sirius shot back. “You and Filch?”

Peter snorted, quickly covering it with a cough when James shot him a look. James stood, stretching his arms above his head. “You’re all just jealous.”

“Yes,” Sirius said flatly. “I’m devastated I won’t be here to watch you make a fool of yourself.”

“You do that every day anyway,” Peter added.

“Traitor.”

Sirius pointed accusingly at James. “You’re really not coming home then?”

James shook his head.

“You realise I’ll have to explain this to your mum,” Sirius said.

“Tell her I’ve finally matured and chosen to focus on something meaningful.”

Sirius barked a laugh. “She won’t believe that for a second.”

“Tell her I’m in love, then.”

Sirius’s mouth opened, then closed again. He shook his head, like he was trying to dislodge the moment. “You’re unbelievable,” he said, but there was less bite to it now and more annoyance.

“I’ve been told,” James replied lightly.

There was a pause, filled only by the sound of Peter finally managing to shut his trunk with a loud click.

“Well,” Remus said, standing and brushing off his trousers, “whether it works or not… I suppose we’ll find out.”

“Oh, we will,” Sirius muttered, grabbing a shirt and shoving it aggressively into his trunk. “And when it fails, I expect a full apology.”

“You’ll get a wedding invitation instead.”

Sirius rolled his eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t get stuck. “Fine,” he said. “Stay. Freeze. Pine after Evans like a lovesick idiot.”

James grinned.

“Glad we’re in agreement.”

Sirius snapped his trunk shut with unnecessary force. “I hate you.”

🦌۶ৎˎˊ˗ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶ🐦‍⬛

The castle felt different the moment the last of the students began to leave.

The usual chaos of footsteps, laughter, and shouting echoing through the corridors had thinned into something hollow.

“Write to me when it all goes horribly wrong,” Sirius had said, slinging his trunk over his shoulder.

“I’ll write to you when it goes brilliantly,” James shot back.

Peter had waved enthusiastically. “Good luck, James!”

James watched them go.

The common room felt too big without Sirius sprawled across the sofa, too quiet without Peter’s nervous chatter, too still without Remus turning pages in the corner like a constant, steady presence. 

Their laughter lingered for a moment after the portrait hole shut behind them and then it was gone.

Holiday break had officially begun.

James stood there for a second, hands shoved into his pockets, rocking back on his heels.

Then he grinned.

“Right,” he muttered. “Game on.”

The Gryffindor common room was nearly empty.

A couple of younger students sat near the fire, quietly playing a game of wizard’s chess. The Christmas decorations glittered faintly in the warm light—tinsel, enchanted baubles, a tree in the corner that shimmered gold and red.

But no Lily.

James frowned, scanning the room anyway, just in case she’d somehow materialised behind a sofa. “Alright,” he said quietly, thinking. “If I were Evans…”

Where would I be?

Library.

Of course.

He took the stairs two at a time, cutting through corridors that felt strangely hollow without the usual rush of students. The castle had that odd, echoing quiet it only ever got during holidays.

By the time he reached the library, he’d already smoothed his hair back (pointless), adjusted his glasses (unnecessary), and mentally rehearsed at least three different opening lines (all brilliant, obviously).

He pushed the doors open.

Silence.

Rows of shelves stretched out before him, dust motes drifting lazily in the winter light pouring through the tall windows. A handful of students were scattered around, heads bent over books, quills scratching faintly.

No Lily.

James’s shoulders dropped slightly.

He stepped further inside, scanning between the aisles and then stopped.

Severus Snape sat alone at a table near the back, hunched over a book, his dark hair falling into his face. He looked exactly the same as always—pale, greasy haired, completely absorbed in whatever he was reading.

For a moment, James considered turning around and leaving.

Ever since that night. Since Sirius’s reckless, idiotic prank that had nearly gotten Snape killed—things had… shifted. 

He hadn’t been part of the prank. He hadn’t known. But that didn’t really matter, did it? Not to Snape. Not when James had spent years making his life miserable anyway.

So, James had backed off. 

They existed now in a sort of tense, unspoken truce, if you could even call it that.

James exhaled slowly, then squared his shoulders. He needed information. And unfortunately, Snivellus was the only lead he had.

So he walked over.

Snape noticed him before he even spoke.

His head snapped up, eyes narrowing immediately, suspicion flashing across his face like a reflex. 

“Potter,” Snape said slowly, like the name tasted unpleasant in his mouth. 

“Snivellus,” James replied automatically, then winced at the name. Old habits die hard.

Snape’s lip curled in annoyance. “Come to gloat about something, or are you just lost?”

“Relax,” James said, holding up a hand. “I’m not here to start anything.”

Snape didn’t look convinced. If anything, he looked even more suspicious.

His gaze flicked briefly toward the library entrance, then back to James, like he was trying to piece something together. “…What are you doing here?” Snape asked.

James shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking back slightly on his heels. “Funny. I was about to ask you the same thing.”

Snape’s lip curled faintly. “Some of us value our education.”

“Right,” James said. 

There was an awkward pause.

The air between them felt… different. Less explosive, somehow. Still tense, still sharp but missing that immediate spark of hostility that usually sent them both reaching for their wands or their worst insults.

Maybe it was the emptiness of the castle.

Snape studied him, eyes flicking briefly toward the door, then back again. “Why aren’t you on the train?”

James shrugged. “Decided to stay.”

That seemed to throw him. Snape straightened slightly, frowning. “You’re staying. At Hogwarts.”

“Brilliant deduction.”

Snape ignored that. “Why?”

“Evans is staying,” he said simply.

Snape went very still. Something unreadable flickered across his face—too quick for James to catch properly.

“…I see,” Snape said after a moment, his voice quieter now.

James shifted his weight, suddenly aware that this conversation had taken a turn he hadn’t quite intended.

“Look,” he said, clearing his throat. “I just… have you seen her?”

Snape didn’t answer immediately. He just stared at James, eyes cold and calculating, judging him, despising him. “You came all the way over here,” Snape said slowly, each word dripping with disdain, “to ask me where Lily is.”

James grimaced, hating how pathetic that sounded coming from Snape’s mouth. “Don’t make it sound so dramatic. I’m just checking all possible sources.”

“How should I make it sound, Potter? Charming? Noble? You trailing after her like a lovesick puppy is exactly as sad as it sounds.” Snape let out a soft, humourless huff—closer to a sneer than a laugh. “Why on earth would I help you?”

James exhaled, glancing briefly at the rows of books towering around them. “You don’t have to.”

Silence stretched between them.

Snape’s fingers tapped an aggressive rhythm against the cover of his book. “She was here earlier,” he spat out finally, like the admission physically hurt him.

James blinked, genuinely surprised he’d answered at all. “Yeah?”

Snape nodded once. “Left about ten minutes ago.”

“Did she say where she was going?”

Snape paused, his eyes narrowing further, as if he regretted saying anything at all. Then, reluctantly, venom dripping from every syllable: “No.”

James sighed, running a hand through his already messy hair in annoyance. “Brilliant. That narrows it down to the entire bloody castle.”

Snape didn’t grace him with a response. James turned slightly, glancing back toward the doors, already thinking of the next place to check.

Then he hesitated.

“…Thanks,” he muttered stiffly, the word tasting foreign in his mouth.

Snape looked horrified by the courtesy which James thought was a bit dramatic. “Don’t,” he snapped, cold and sharp. “I didn’t do it for you. I did it so you’d leave sooner.”

“Right,” James muttered. “Won’t make the mistake again.”

He started toward the exit, then paused again, glancing back over his shoulder.

Snape had already returned to his book but he wasn’t reading. His eyes were unfocused, distant. James frowned slightly, something uneasy tugging at the back of his mind.

Then he shook it off.

“See you around, Snivellus,” he said, the nickname slipping out before he could stop it.

Snape’s grip on his book tightened, knuckles turning white, but he refused to look up.

James winced inwardly, he really needed to let go of that habit.

🦌۶ৎˎˊ˗ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶ🐦‍⬛

James had spent nearly an hour searching for her.

By the time he pushed open the portrait hole to Gryffindor Tower, he was cold, annoyed, and beginning to wonder if she'd lied and had actually gone home for the holidays.

Luckily, Lily Evans sat curled into one of the armchairs by the fire, a book balanced on her knees. The orange glow from the flames illuminated her red hair and painted shadows across her face.

She looked up at the sound of the portrait hole closing.

Surprise flashed across her features.

"Potter?"

James suddenly felt foolish for how relieved he was to see her.

"There you are."

Lily raised an eyebrow.

"There I am."

James shoved his hands into his pockets. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

“…Why?"

James opened his mouth.

Then closed it again.

Honestly, he hadn't thought that far ahead. He had spent so long searching that actually finding her hadn't been part of the plan.

"Because I wanted to talk to you."

A smile threatened to appear on her face before she suppressed it.

"About what?"

James sat down across from her.

For a moment neither spoke. Then Lily glanced toward the windows where snow drifted outside. "The train left hours ago."

"Yeah."

Lily’s brow furrowed in confusion, her eyes narrowing as she looked across at him. “You missed it?”

"Not exactly."

Realization slowly dawned on her face as her eyes widened.

"No."

A slow, playful grin spread across James’s face. “Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“James Potter,” she said his name like a warning, though there was no real heat behind it yet. He was enjoying this far too much.

“I’ll be staying at Hogwarts for Christmas,” he admitted finally.

Lily stared at him for several long seconds, simply blinking as she processed the words. Then, very deliberately, she closed the book she’d been holding and set it down. “Oh.”

James recognized that tone instantly— it was the calm before the storm, the kind of quiet that almost always preceded a thorough scolding. “Oh?” he repeated, trying to keep his voice light.

“You’re staying,” she said, standing up slowly.

“Yep.”

“Have you completely lost your mind?”

“Possibly,” he shrugged, though his heart was beating a little faster now.

“You stayed because of me.”

James opened his mouth to speak, closed it again, then opened it once more. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Her eyebrows shot up.

“Okay—yes,” he conceded, lifting his hands in surrender.

Lily threw her hands up in exasperation, pacing a short distance back and forth in front of the fireplace. “Why!?”

James looked at her, genuinely confused as to why this wasn’t obvious. “Because I like you?”

“You cannot honestly think this is romantic,” she said, stopping to look at him like he’d grown a second head.

“I thought it was a little romantic.”

She started pacing again, and James couldn’t help but watch her. The thing about Lily Evans was that she was beautiful when she was happy. But she was somehow even more beautiful when she was furious. Not that he would ever dare say that out loud; he valued his life far too much to add fuel to that particular fire.

“This is exactly what I mean,” she said, turning back to face him.

“What?”

“You never listen!”

“Sure I do.”

“No, you don’t. You only hear what you want to hear.” She folded her arms tightly across her chest. “You think that if you just keep chasing me long enough, eventually I’ll give in and say yes.”

“That’s not fair,” he said, his smile fading.

Lily shook her head, her expression hardening. “You know what I see when I look at you, Potter?”

James swallowed hard, suddenly unsure if he actually wanted to hear the answer.

“I see a bully,” she said plainly.

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away.

“Someone who thinks being talented and popular excuses every cruel thing he does,” she continued, her voice steady and unflinching. “Someone who humiliates people just because he can, because he knows no one will dare stand up to him properly. And someone who still believes he’s entitled to my time, my attention, and my affection just because he wants them.”

The fire crackled softly between them, the only sound in the room.

James felt his stomach drop. He’d heard these things before, shouted across corridors or muttered behind his back— but tonight there was no crowd, no friends to laugh it off with, no audience to perform for. 

It was just Lily, looking right at him, and the terrifying realisation that she truly believed every single word she’d just said.

“You really think that little of me?” he asked quietly.

For a moment, her expression softened, the sharp edges of her anger smoothing out into something sadder. “I don’t,” she said, her voice quieter now.

James looked up, meeting her eyes again.

She sighed, letting her arms fall to her sides. “I don’t think that little of you. I think you’re better than that.”

The words caught him completely off guard, and he sat in stunned silence. Neither of them spoke for a long moment, the weight of what she’d said hanging in the air. Then Lily walked back and sat down in the armchair opposite him, leaning forward slightly.

“I think you’re brave,” she said softly.

James blinked, completely thrown.

“I think you’re fiercely loyal—to your friends, to the people you care about.”

He blinked again, unable to quite believe what he was hearing.

“I think you’re brilliant, one of the smartest people I’ve ever met.”

Now he was thoroughly confused, frowning slightly. “You’re doing a very strange job of insulting me right now.”

“Be quiet,” she said. 

James obeyed immediately— partly because he didn’t want to risk making her angry again, but mostly because Lily almost never gave him compliments, and he wanted to hear every word she had to say.

“I think you have the potential to be a truly good man,” she said finally.

The common room seemed to go quiet around them, the firelight dancing softly over the stone walls.

“But you aren’t one yet,” she finished.

James stared into the flames, feeling the truth of her words settle heavy in his chest. 

Part of him wanted to argue, to defend himself, to list all the ways he’d changed or tried to be better— but he knew she would simply remind him of every cruel joke, every hex, every time he’d used his power to make someone else feel small over the last six years. And she would be right.

“You really don't think I'd ever have a chance?" he asked finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lily looked at him for a long time, studying his face as if she were deciding exactly how much to say. 

“I didn’t say that.”

James’s head snapped up so quickly he nearly tipped backward out of his chair. “You didn’t?”

“No.”

His heart felt like it was trying to beat its way right out of his chest, hope rushing through him so fast it made him feel lightheaded. “Then—”

“Don’t get excited,” she warned, pointing a finger at him firmly.

It was too late for that, he was already grinning, hope blooming bright and warm inside him.

“Would you do anything for me?” she asked, leaning forward again.

James nodded immediately. “Anything.”

“Then prove it,” she said simply.

There it was—an open challenge, a chance to show her he could be the person she believed he could be. James sat up straighter, his resolve hardening. “Okay.”

Lily watched him carefully, searching his face for any sign that he wasn’t taking her seriously, while James knew without a doubt that he would do whatever it took to prove her right.

"Befriend Severus."

The Gryffindor common room had fallen silent once again after she'd spoken. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting golden light across the empty room, and James stared at her as though she'd just suggested he wrestle a dragon—which he would much rather do.

“Befriend Snape?” James repeated, the words coming out disbelieving, he didn’t think he had heard her correctly.

Lily simply crossed her arms over her chest, her expression unyielding. “That’s what I said.”

James opened his mouth to reply, paused, closed it again, then tried once more, looking thoroughly perplexed. “Lily, he hates me.”

“How funny,” she replied coolly, tilting her head slightly. “Because I seem to remember you hating him first."

A grimace twisted James’s features at that, and Lily immediately caught it. She raised an eyebrow, her gaze sharp and challenging. “What’s the matter, Potter? I thought you said you could change."

“I can change,” he insisted quickly.

“Then prove it.”

James rubbed the back of his neck, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. This was absolutely nothing like the scenarios he’d played out in his head for months— years, even. He’d imagined dramatic confessions, long romantic walks beside the Black Lake under moonlight. He had certainly never imagined that his path to winning Lily’s heart would involve spending his Christmas holiday trying to win over Severus bloody Snape.

“I still don’t see what this has to do with us,” he muttered.

Silence stretched out between them, and James hated it. Not because she was shouting or angry (he could handle that easily enough) but because she wasn’t. Her voice wasn’t sharp or furious; it was just quiet, and laced with deep disappointment, and that was far worse.

“I know you can be good, James,” she said softly.

“Then why won’t you give me a chance? Why won’t you go out with me?” he asked, the frustration finally slipping into his tone.

She sighed, a long, weary sound, and looked at him with steady eyes. “Because being good when it’s easy doesn’t actually count for anything.”

James frowned, confused. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means anyone can be kind and decent to people they already like,” she explained, leaning a little closer so there was no space for him to miss her point. “But what about the people you don’t like? What about the ones who annoy you, or insult you, or make your life difficult on purpose?”

Her voice softened, turning almost gentle as she held his gaze. “What do you do then?”

James stayed silent, because the honest answer wasn’t one he wanted to admit out loud. Usually? When someone irritated him or stood in his way? He hexed them. He mocked them until they were humiliated. He turned it into a joke and made the whole room laugh at their expense.

“If you can genuinely be kind to Severus for an entire holiday without expecting anything in return, then maybe I'll believe you've actually changed."

For a split second, James seriously considered walking straight out of the castle and throwing himself into the freezing waters of the lake. It felt like it would be infinitely easier. 

He could just walk away right now, laugh it off, tell Lily she was being impossible, pack his bag tomorrow morning, and go home for the holidays, forgetting this conversation ever happened.

But he knew if he did that, nothing would change. Lily would keep looking at him exactly the way she was looking right now— like she could see the person he could be, but was endlessly disappointed that he refused to become him.

James swallowed hard, pushing every protest down. “When exactly does this challenge start?”

A small, triumphant smile tugged at the corner of Lily’s mouth, transforming her whole face. “The moment you decide it does.”

He let out a loud, dramatic groan, dropping his head back in mock despair. Lily’s smile grew a little wider in response, and for a moment James forgot entirely about Snape, about the difficulty of the task, about everything else.

Merlin, she was beautiful when she smiled. Dangerously beautiful, in fact— beautiful enough to make a perfectly sane man agree to try and befriend Severus Snape. Which, he realized with a sinking feeling, was exactly what he was about to do.

“Fine,” he said finally, lifting his head to meet her eyes.

Lily blinked, clearly not expecting him to agree so quickly. “Fine?”

“I’ll do it,” James confirmed, nodding resolutely. “I’ll be nice to Snivellus. Consider it done.”

James Potter was never one to back out of a challenge.