Title: How Many Bullets?

Author: Sara Chappelle

Genre: Angst/Romance

Rating: PG-13 for sexual references, sexual jokes, violence, language, and James Potter in general.

Extended Summary: I've been chasing after Lily Evans for six years, and I've never gotten a response out of her. I'm not one to give up easily, but this just might be the last straw. How many more bullets can I take?

Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. Not the characters, nothing. (And I'm not using this to make money.)

Platform Nine and three quarters was packed with wizards and witches of all ages. They milled about, students hugging their parents before leaving on the day-long journey by train to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The students would stay at the boarding school for three months before they saw their parents again, during the winter break. Hence, the partings were emotional for some, aloof for others, and many of the younger students were slightly nervous about leaving home for such a long period of time.

The older students were quite the opposite; some had even convinced their parents not to come to send them off to school one last time. These older students were scattered into various groups of four or five, sharing stories of their vacations, as well as new hopes for the new term. One of these groups had just managed to find each other, picking through the crowd for their friends. "Hey, Prongs!" One of them said, capturing his companion's attention. The youth who turned around was quite handsome, and both his eyes and his mind were obviously on other things.

"Padfoot? Moony? Where's Wormtail?" He nodded at his friends, and the small, scrawny Peter Pettigrew seemed to appear just as the teen known as 'Prongs' said the name. James Potter grinned, a smile that made most girls dive into his hazel eyes, and he nodded at the new seventh-year to appear. "How were all your summers? I was going to Apparate into Lily's bedroom, but…" His voice drifted away into nothing. "I thought better of it. It is my sworn duty to be well behaved." James laughed openly, knowing full well what kind of trouble all of the Marauders (as they called themselves) would be in by the end of the first week.

The boy who responded first was the one called Padfoot, possibly the most attractive of the group. He had wild black hair that fell, uncombed, to just past his ears – his mother had insisted on cutting it. His warm brown eyes smiled at his friends, and he raised his black eyebrows at James' statement. "You should have. It might have surprised her into shagging you." He laughed. "Well behaved, my foot."

Lupin shrugged. "Summer was okay, I guess." Then again, he had just recovered from the last full moon, and was dwelling on what was always a traumatic event.

As if sensing this, Sirius clapped Moony on the back. "Are you kidding? You spent the whole summer in the French Riviera, and the girls were really hot! You had an incredible time, and now you're coming back to school. We're going to play a record number of pranks, and you're going to snog Christine Schiedel." Remus turned bright red immediately, and rather pleased, Sirius continued, "And Potter's going to get married. To Evans, of course."

James was instantly infuriated. "Excuse me? I… I what?"

"What? I thought you liked Evans. Enough to dream about shagging her, anyways. Besides, Potter, you just strike me as the kind of guy who gets married and has thirteen kids." Sirius noticed that the Seeker's eyes remained narrowed, and found himself trying to duck out of the group in order to escape the wrath of the Gryffindor Quidditch team captain.

Unfortunately, a certain redhead had overheard this, lurking behind a nearby post the whole time, listening to their conversation. It wasn't until now, however, that Lily Evans chose to emerge. "I just want to make two things clear to you, Potter, before you get any ideas. One, I hate you. Two, stay away from me, because I will hurt you. Oh, and by the way, there's no way I'm shagging you. Consider yourself lucky you didn't Apparate into my bedroom!" she smacked James hard before stalking off, her long, red hair falling in its usual cascades of curls around her narrow shoulders.

James turned in order to watch her go. He gingerly rubbed his left cheek, shouting some choice words after the redhead, "Like hell am I giving up!" He sighed when she didn't respond, or turn around, and his heart shattered for the thousandth time. "I'm gonna go find a seat before it's too late. See you." Slightly dejected, the seventh-year departed from his fellow Marauders, climbing onto the Hogwarts express. He made his way towards the compartment reserved for Head Boy and Girl, dragging his trunk behind him.

Finally, Potter reached the compartment, praying that he'd have gotten there prior to Lily. She was already there, however, her nose buried in a book, her feet propped on the wooden chest that was her trunk. "Hello, Potter. In case you haven't noticed, this compartment is reserved for the Heads, okay?"

"Yeah, I know," he mumbled, lifting his trunk into the luggage rack above them. Lily looked uncertainly at the seeker, not sure whether or not to tell him to go away. After all, there was no way that Dumbledore would ever make James Potter Head Boy. No freaking way. James ignored her curious glance and flopped down across one of the other upholstered seats of the train. It was then that he noticed her stare that seemed to challenge whether or not he belonged here. "Evans, I'm Head Boy. Get used to it."

The redhead looked up, her green eyes wide with shock. She seemed frozen in place for a moment, but was quickly able to recover. Well, not completely. "You… You what?" There was a pause, and James didn't answer. "No, you can't be. This is not happening."

"Evans, why is this so upsetting to you? Don't you want me to stay out of trouble? Or maybe you like to think you have some control over my actions. Maybe you like yelling at me," James teased, never really noticing how Lily was dealing with his words.

"Potter, you just don't get it." She looked like she was about to either smack him or start crying, and James, who had finally noticed this, was feeling a bit guilty at this point.

"Evans, I'm sorry…"

"Shutup, Potter. Just shut the hell up." Why did he always have to be like this? He was treating her like she didn't understand. He was the one who didn't get it. She didn't like yelling him, and she did want him to behave himself. And she most certainly didn't want to be patronized.

They fell silent, and James buried his nose in his worn-out copy of Quidditch: A History. It wasn't until the train pulled out of the station that they even looked at each other, and James found himself staring out the window, watching the countryside go by, thinking about what he might have done wrong this time. Lily, on the other hand, was still absorbed in her book, her eyes gradually falling shut.

Her thoughts drifted for a moment before she settled into a dream. How on earth had James managed to become head boy? Someone like Remus was so much better suited for the job. And how did Dumbledore expect Potter to be responsible? Would she be the only real head? And what if he had really Apparated into her bedroom? The dream took over with that thought….

Lily was back in her bedroom, lying among the tangled sheets of her double bed, her red hair fanned out across the pillow. It was dark, the only light streaming in through the open window, falling in a luminous pool across the floor. She was perfectly calm, and the only sound was the soft summer breezes that often came with the July heat. Suddenly, a small, unexpected noise disturbed the evening's perfection: the creak of the door opening, and a dark shape appeared at the end of the room. The redhead sat up, suddenly alarmed. "Who's there?"

"It's me," he whispered, making his way across the room. Lily knew the voice, but she didn't quite recognize the man until he stepped into the single pool of light halfway across the room. When she finally recognized him, her breath caught in her throat, and she didn't let it out until he was seated on the edge of her bed, his eyes meeting hers. The bottom dropped out of her stomach as she lost herself in the depths of his hazel eyes, and she could feel him moving closer to her, his fingers entwining with hers as he finally climbed all the way into bed. She could feel his muscles under his robes, the result of countless Quidditch practices, and didn't protest as he leaned closer… And then, he poked her.

James Potter was, in fact, poking her, when she awoke to all the familiar sounds of the Hogwarts Express. Lily brushed his finger away impatiently, trying to slip back into the dream. Oddly enough, she wanted to know what happened next. But why would she want to know something like that? It wasn't as if she actually wanted to shag James Potter. He poked her again. "Potter. Enough."

"I'm not touching you," was the seventh-year's only reply, and his customary smirk returned to his face once he had gotten a reaction out of the object of his affections, as he liked to put it. James watched, amused, as Lily rolled her eyes at him, sighing with exasperation. It was an obvious ploy to buy time in order to come up with some clever remark.

Or that was what the Head Boy thought until he heard what the redhead had to say. "Potter, stop it."

He almost laughed at the thought. 'No,' Prongs answered silently, continuing aloud. "Sorry, you're far too pokeable." His finger jabbed in Lily's direction once more, and once again, she failed to avoid it.

Gracefully taking the hit, she raised one eyebrow at James, a habit he found quite attractive. Of course, Lily hadn't spent nearly enough time around him to know this, and if she had, she would have broken the odd habit immediately. "Pokeable?" she inquired, puzzled by the word. "What in Merlin's name is that supposed to mean?"

Potter didn't miss a beat, and poked her once again. "It means that I'm not touching you." He smirked, satisfied with the reply, as well as with Lily's reaction. He liked seeing her get mad, for some odd reason. Maybe it was more attractive to him. Maybe he liked the fire in her personality. Maybe he was used to that being the only reaction he ever got out of her. Abruptly, James found her wand directly under his nose, staring down the highly-polished wood.

"I'm warning you, Potter. Don't push it." The Head Girl glowered at her new, unwanted colleague, not quite sure that he would leave her alone.

"Head Girl." He smirked, a facial expression that she hated more than anything else about him. Except maybe his I'm-all-that attitude and his hair that always refused to lay flat. "What're you gonna do?" He stood up, his lanky body stretching to a height of six feet. Deftly, James reached down, his fingers closing around her wrists, pulling her to her feet. Now that both of them were standing, two things were clear: Lily didn't look too intimidating, her head barely reaching his chin. "You might get in trouble," the seeker murmured in his warm, pleasant voice, as he felt the tip of her wand against his chest.

"Then again, I might not," Lily replied, confident that he wouldn't say anything. He never did, and no one else was around to see her do this. He felt his fingers jab once, simultaneously, into the one point on her side that could make her shriek, and that was, indeed the last straw. Regaining her composure, Lily narrowed her eyes and spoke the words to the first hex that came to mind. "Sanguinem Mittere!"

James reacted to the words instantly. Blood gushed from his nose, flowing over the hand he had raised in a feeble attempt to stop the flow of blood. It came with quite a bit of pain, and he was feeling lightheaded from the loss of so much blood all at once, but he quickly recalled the counter curse. "Sanguinem Incruentus!" Next, he turned his wand on Lily. "Expelliarmus!" Her wand was yanked out of her hand, and the seeker caught it easily, pulling it out of reach, which wasn't too difficult, seeing as Potter was a foot taller than the redhead.

"Give it back," she demanded, reaching up towards the arm that now held her wand. "James, I'm warning you…"

"What are you gonna do, hex me?"

"Arrogant Bullying Toerag," she muttered in reply. "Potter, this is exactly what your problem is! You think you're so popular. You think that everyone likes you. Well guess what? No one does! I hate you, and so does everyone else!"

Potter swallowed his emotions, trying to calm his racing heart as it shattered for the second time in less than an hour. He had backed up against the wall, his eyes shut against the pain that only she could inflict upon him – she was the only one who ever could, and every time, he had to go through the same self-torture afterwards. "Evans, shut up," he snarled, not opening his eyes, trying to make all his feelings go away.

A/N: So that's it. Review for me, and I'll love you all forever. Yeah, This fic is depressing me already. Oh well. :-D.