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“I’m running for Prom Queen,” declared James triumphantly, throwing himself on the field alongside two of his best friends.
“Congrats,” said Sirius, voice full of sleep as he sprawled out in the sun.
Without looking up from the book his nose was stuck in, Remus said, “Can we talk about this later or never? Some of us actually care about passing our A-Levels.”
“I’m not kidding,” said James.
“Why not? It would be so much better for everyone if you were,” said Remus, gaze snapping up.
“Okay, we’re leaving in a couple of weeks. After prom, it’s just exams, and that doesn’t give me much room for grand gestures.”
“So this is about Lily,” sighed Remus, returning to his reading.
“Obviously,” said Sirius.
“It’s subversive! Girls like it when guys are subversive.”
“I love it,” cried Sirius, sitting upright with a heavy yawn. “Just one question, how is it subversive for a guy to do something irritating and narcissistic to get a girl to notice him?”
“You just said you loved it!”
“I do. It sounds like you’re going to make a real arse of yourself in a very public setting. I think, and I can’t believe I’m saying this unironically, prom night is going to be the best night of my whole life.”
With that, Sirius stretched back out on the ground and closed his eyes.
“Did you consider just asking her to go as your date?” asked Remus.
“That’s a bit desperate. Only couples are going in pairs,” said James.
“Whereas the Prom Queen campaign is breezy, yeah?”
“Yes. Now, other than the obvious three votes-”
Remus interrupted, “How did you get to three?”
“You two plus Peter makes three.”
“Pete’s not gonna even be out of hospital until the end of the week. He’s not going to be signing any Prom nomination sheets.”
“Fuck!” cried James.
“I know. It’s awful when a friends’ appendix bursts and ruins your stupid plans.”
“Get off your high horse, Remus,” said Sirius, eyes still closed, “You didn’t speak to me for a straight week when I broke my leg and missed your eighth birthday party.”
“I was only eight though. I like to think that in the past ten years we’ve all emotionally matured, just a little.”
James and Sirius both let out a long-drawn, “Ehhhh.”
It wasn’t that James wanted to be Prom Queen, but he needed to make it through the nomination period or else the whole thing would be pointless. The driving force behind the entire antic was to butt heads with Lily as often as possible. So he needed ten votes.
James, Sirius, and Remus handed around sheets for people to sign. James could only assume the other two were met with equal confusion.
“Hey, want to nominate me for Prom Queen?” he’d ask.
“King?” was the frequent reply.
“Nope. Queen.”
“Why?”
It wasn’t until his final bell rang that he received his final signature. Adopting the tactic of simply holding the sheet out for people to sign as they walked past proved ineffective. The majority of students were in a rush and had already expressed disinterest in his campaign.
Then, Lily walked out, and James’ breath snagged on his heart.
“Hi,” she said, wearing a look of both interest and suspicion, “What are you doing?”
“Hi,” he replied, exuding a confidence he certainly did not feel in that moment. This whole thing was so very stupid. “I’m collecting signatures.”
“Like, for charity?”
“No,” said James, full of regret, “No, this is to get me nominated for Prom Queen.”
Lily froze for a second, nothing moving but her eyes as they slowly squinted.
“Okay,” she said, “Why?”
“It’s subversive.”
Lily snorted, “Sure. How many more signatures do you need?”
“Just one.”
“Okay,” she said. “I can sign it and give it in to McGonagall while I’m at the committee meeting this afternoon.”
“Oh? Really? Thanks. That’d be great. Erm… do you want me to sign your form? Or do you have enough signatures already?”
“What? No,” she laughed, “No, I’m not running. I was against the idea of having a Prom King and Queen. This is the first year we’ve done it and it feels very old-fashioned and American all at once, but Dorcas insisted.”
“Really?”
James gathered Sirius and Remus at his house for a crisis control meeting (and a couple of games of Mario Kart) after school.
“She’s not even running!” cried James. “That’s way more subversive. I can’t compete with that.”
“Shave your head,” said Sirius before cursing under his breath as he drove Baby Rosalina off of the side of Wario’s Gold Mine.
“Stop suggesting that,” said James.
Just as Baby Rosalina was placed back on the track, James drove Gold Mario right into her.
“… Shave your eyebrows.”
“What’s that subverting?”
“Eyebrow culture. There’s too much pressure for eyebrows to be perfect these days.”
“Just drop out,” said Remus.
“I can’t. I already told Lily I was doing it. She took my form. She’s probably handing it in as we speak.”
“Then nominate Lily for Prom King.”
“Remus, you’re an actual literal genius sometimes, you know that?”
“It was a joke.”
“Our first dance will be to Let Me Love You by Mario.” When nobody asked why, James added, “Because it’s the anthem of our love story.”
“How? How is it the anthem of any aspect of either of your lives? Neither of you have a cheating boyfriend. Or any boyfriend,” said Remus.
James groaned, “That’s what that song’s about?”
“Yeah, Mario’s trying to convince someone to leave their cheating boyfriend and let him love them instead.”
“Bit desperate.”
“Not desperate enough,” said Sirius.
“Sorry?”
Sirius continued, “To be your anthem. Have you considered something by the cast of Glee?”
“They just do covers,” said James.
“They had a couple of originals,” said Remus.
“Why and how do you know that?” asked Sirius. “How long did you keep watching after they butchered Quinn’s character?”
James asked, “Which time? Wait, no, we’re getting side tracked. I’ve thrown my hat in the ring now, we at least have to make some sort of spectacle. Or… posters.”
James very quickly learnt that even though Lily had no interest in becoming Prom Queen, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be butting heads with anyone else for the title.
“What the hell are you doing?” cried Dorcas, storming down the language corridor towards him, her blonde ponytail bouncing with rage. “Are you trying to ruin my life?”
“Not actively.”
“What is this supposed to be?” she asked, holding up a crumpled piece of A4 paper.
The other shoe dropped in James’ stomach.
“That would be… my campaign poster.”
“Why?”
“I thought it would be funny.”
“Well, it’s not funny for me! You’re making a farce out of the whole thing. And it wasn’t supposed to be a farce. God, it’s bad enough half the year’s planning on voting for Snape for Prom King.”
“Disgusting. Why?”
“Because they thought it would be funny! Which is apparently the only reason anyone does anything around here.”
She let out a groan and buried her face in her free hand.
“If it helps,” said James, taking a tentative step forward to place a comforting hand on her shoulder, “The more competition you have, the less chance there is of you having to slow dance with Snape.”
“So, I have a rival for Prom Queen,” said James, taking his usual seat between Sirius and Remus in Tutor. “And she’s pretty fired up about the whole thing.”
“Dorcas?” said Sirius, sucking the dregs out of of a carton of apple juice in spite of the rule that only water was to be drunk in classrooms. “Yeah, she cornered me while I was hanging posters for your campaign.”
“God, this is right out of season three of Glee,” said Remus.
“There were three seasons?” cried Sirius
“There were at least five,” said Remus sombrely.
“God, why don’t we let things die anymore?”
James caught sight of one of Dorcas’ posters on his way out of school that afternoon. There’d obviously been a lot of effort put into the thing. It was much larger than his own, which hung, dwarfed, beside Dorcas’ smiling face.
“Getting nervous?” came Lily’s voice.
James started.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s fine,” he said, “I was a million miles away.”
“You’re taking this joke the whole way then?” she asked, nodding at his poster.
“Never half-ass a joke, Evans, that’s the mark of half a man.”
She laughed a little, but it was enough.
“You know,” she said, “it wasn’t even called Prom until a couple of years ago. It used to be called the Leavers’ Ball. Which made sense because it was a ball for leavers, but apparently that sounded too boring. Here’s the thing though, etymologically speaking, Prom is way more archaic. It comes from the word ‘promenade,’ as in a walk down the promenade, as in escorting a lady down the promenade, as in you shouldn’t come without a date. Which is stupid. Nobody is going with a date unless they’re already dating. Which isn’t even the stupidest part. We’re democratically selecting a monarchy. I know it’s not a literal monarchy, but the entire concept is redundant. It should be Prime Minister of the Leavers’ Ball.”
“Doesn’t exactly roll of the tongue.”
“Well, it’s not a serious suggestion. I’m just pointing out how ridiculous the thing is in general.”
“You seem to care a lot about this.”
“No, I don’t care, I just don’t understand why everyone else does. They shouldn’t care.”
“So you did research into a subject you don’t care about just so you could be angry that other people do care?”
“Well when you put it that way. I don’t know, I don’t want to be a killjoy, but I don’t think pitting ourselves against each other in a popularity contest is the best way to celebrate our time here. We should just be enjoying ourselves and making empty promises about keeping in touch. It just all feels very Glee, you know?”
“Why do people keep comparing this to Glee? Other shows feature proms.”
“It’s just I think they had about a million prom episodes.”
“Well, I wouldn’t know. I stopped watching after they butchered Jessie’s character. I can’t stand narrative inconsistency.”
“You like Game of Thrones.”
“It’s not inconsistent the majority of fans just don’t understand the subtle shifts in the character’s development.”
“Maybe it would be clearer if they sung their feelings.”
“That would be the greatest show of all time.”
“Yeah I know, I said it as a joke at first, but now I want it to exist.”
“It has to exist. The internet is so vast.”
“I’d want the dragons to sing.”
“The dragons should be the backup singers for every single song.”
“Man, if I had dragons to harmonise with, I’d burst into song every minute of the day.”
“And for the first time I’m grateful dragons aren’t real.”
Lily gave him a playful punch on the shoulder.
James feigned injury before saying, “Good thing you punch as well as you sing because otherwise that would have been assault.”
“Why did you nominate yourself for Prom Queen, James?”
“I thought it would be funny.”
“It’s just a lot of effort to put into a joke.”
“Well, I never do anything by halves. And I wanted you to take notice,” he admitted.
“Okay. Yeah. I noticed. Happy?”
James fumbled for an appropriately witty response, but could only lie and say, “Yep,” with an uncomfortably heavy emphasis on the ‘p.’
Euphemia Potter was growing increasingly impatient with James’ mood as she helped him get ready for Prom.
“I won’t finish fixing your bowtie if you keep frowning so much,” she said, fumbling with the fabric beneath his chin.
“Sorry,” he breathed.
“Nothing snappy to say? What’s gotten into you?” asked Euphemia, pulling back from the bowtie so that she could probably examine her son’s face.
“I was kind of hoping Lily would be my date for tonight, but it seems like my whole plan was pointless.”
“Oh, come on, it’s not like you actually expected that Prom Queen thing to work,” she said, returning to her work on the bowtie.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, you know, you’ve always been one of the smartest kids in class, the best on the football team, popular with the girls… but you’ve never been particularly good at things you don’t have a natural talent for. You’ve got a bit of a pride issue.”
“Mum!”
“I’m just saying!”
“I’m too proud so I make myself look like a complete idiot? How does that make sense?”
“It’s easier to fail when you set yourself up for it. It’s easier to hide behind humour than actually put your feelings out there. Maybe, just maybe, you’ve never asked that poor girl out under normal circumstances is because if she rejects you then you’ll have no grand farce to blame it on.”
“How do you know so much about my personal life?”
“Sirius keeps me updated. It’s very entertaining. Now, what do we think?” she asked, spinning him so that he could properly take in his reflection.
“You sure it’s not too much?”
“I thought the point was to make a peacock of yourself,” she said, smiling at her own pun.
“Thanks, Mum.”
Each student was given a single ballot upon entry and asked to deposit it before entering the main room of the venue.
And there James’ name was, under Prom Queen Nominees.
Classmates were dressed up to varying degrees. Some wore cheap party shirts and dresses they’d been seen in a hundred times before, others were dressed for a Disney ball. James felt comfortable falling shy of the over-dressed mark. Especially as there were a couple of top hats floating through the crowd.
He spotted Lily almost immediately, without meaning to, eyes trained to pick her out of any crowd.
She wore a white dress, cut off at the knee, billowing sleeves, and lace gracing her neck. He wondered if there was any way he could have done things in the past that might have led up to him standing beside her in that instant; hand in hand.
But choices had been made and time had compressed those choices into this reality.
So he danced with Remus and Sirius during the fast songs and made excuses to leave the floor when the odd ballad came on. Until, eventually, it was time to announce Prom King and Queen.
McGonagall took to the stage and cleared her throat.
The music had been cut, but deafening conversations still sat heavy like fog on the dance floor.
“Excuse me!” she cried out eventually.
Silence fell immediately.
Any shift in weight, rustle of fabric, scratch of a nose, was heard.
“Now, it’s time to crown our evening’s royalty,” said McGonagall.
A few groans and murmurs of irritation rang throughout the crowd. All were ignored as McGonagall opened the first of the two manila envelopes a bored-looking site manager held out for her.
“Our Prom King, this evening,” she said, pausing a moment for effect, “Is Mr. Severus Snape.”
Laughter rippled throughout the room and did not quieten until McGonagall called for silence once more.
“Now, is Mr. Snape here tonight?” she asked, patience visibly wearing thin. “No, I assumed not. Moving on to the Queen.”
James was suddenly entirely certain that he did not want his name to be called out.
“Severus Snape also.”
The laughter that time was raucous and unquellable. Not that McGonagall made much of an effort.
“Okay, thank you, a perfect example of why we will never be doing this again,” she mumbled angrily, voice carrying through the speakers until the DJ got the hint and hit play on the music.
James let out a breathy laugh of relief before pushing through the crowd to where he knew Lily danced.
She had Dorcas’ cheeks cupped in her hands and was saying, “At least it didn’t go to a prettier girl and we can all agree this was stupid.”
Dorcas scrunched up her nose before nodding and smiling.
As Lily released Dorcas’ head, James decided he could no longer stall. It was not the time for cowardice.
“Lily,” he said softly, giving her a gentle tap on the shoulder.
“Oh,” said Lily, starting just a little before smiling in acknowledgement, “Hi.”
“Can I talk to you for a second? In private?” he asked, tentatively finding the words in spite of the weight of his heart on his tongue.
“Okay,” she said, a frown of something akin to concern forming on her face. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. Everything’s great. I’d just rather not have an audience right now.”
“Okay.”
He led her to the small bar which was unattended and abandoned.
“We’re gonna steal booze?” asked Lily.
“Oh. No. Unless you want to?”
Lily narrowed her eyes thoughtfully for a moment before saying, “No. That seems unfair to the supervising staff. It’d probably come out of their paycheques.”
James felt his nerves and head both lighten a little.
“So what did you want to talk about?” she asked.
And the nerves resurged.
“So,” he began, slowly, cautiously, carefully, “It’s come to my attention that I hide behind theatrics.”
“You?” she cried, “Never!”
“Okay, well, sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.”
“I thought the lowest form of wit was running for prom queen.”
James tried not to laugh, to stay on course, but they were standing very close, and he was so nervous, and she was so pretty, so smart, so funny.
As he failed to swallow his sniggers, Lily mirrored his smile, scrunching her nose up just a little.
Every single thing she said and did made the conversation he’d planned all the more daunting.
“Sorry,” she said, “Sorry. You were in the middle of saying something.”
“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.”
A solid stretch of ten seconds passed before she pressed, “Yeah?”
And he laughed again.
“What’s going on?” she asked, expression softening.
“Okay. So, I wanted to apologise, I guess, for the ways I’ve tried to get your attention in the past.”
“Oh. Okay.” Lily swallowed visibly hard and dropped her gaze to the tacky carpet below, “Thanks.”
“It was cowardly. And stupid. And I’ve realised that I never gave you a real chance to reject me.”
“And yet I’ve managed to reject you anyway!” she cried, all full of humour, before meeting his eye and saying, “Sorry. I’m not used to you talking to me like this.”
“Yeah, that’s the whole point,” he sighed. “I wanted to give you the chance to properly reject me. In a normal conversation.”
“Okay?”
“I like you,” said James, “I like you a lot. And I have for a really long time. And I’ve never been very good at expressing genuine affection because it’s so much easier to turn everything into a joke, but it’s also meant that I’ve fucked up any chance I might have had to go out with you. So, since we’re probably going to never see each other again after our exams, I was wondering if I might take this last chance to ask you on a date.”
Lily was frozen, not even her eyes squinted in thought. He’d broken her.
“And now,” he prompted, “Is where you reject me.”
“Oh. Right. No.”
James sucked in a dry breath and stammered, “Great, this feels great, I’m glad we did this.”
“No,” said Lily.
“Okay, you only needed to say it once.”
“I haven’t finished. Stop interrupting!”
Seconds of silence stretched on.
“I don’t want to interrupt you again,” said James, “But, you’re not saying anything.”
“I meant ‘no’, as in ‘no, I’m not saying no.’”
“Okay. So. Wait. Hold on,” said James, “So that’s a double negative?”
“Yeah.”
“So that’s a yes?”
“Yes.”
“That’s it. I’ve finished speaking now.”
“Okay.”
“Do you want to dance?”
They both paused for a moment and allowed the sound system to flood them from a room away.
“It’s the Cha Cha Slide,” said Lily.
“That’s what I always dreamed our first dance would be to,” said James.
Lily laughed. Hard. Before offering James her hand with an immovable smile.