Baby, Just Say Yes || Jily & Scorily || ✔️

They Are Insanely Stubborn

James Potter I

He didn't understand Lily Evans. He didn't understand her distaste for him, her friendships with certain slimy haired Slytherins, and he certainly did not understand her muggle sayings.

The first time James had asked Lily out, she had made a reference to some muggle play of sorts: Romeo and Juliet. Wanting to know more about her muggle life, James had gone to the library and dug through the archives to find a ratty old copy of the script.

He checked out the book, brought it to his room, and promptly fell asleep after getting through the first page.

"Oi, James, we're going out to the Quidditch field. You coming?" Sirius called from right outside the door.

James shook himself awake, his glasses laying askew on his face and the book making itself a tent on his chest. He pulled himself up and fixed his glasses. "Yeah, coming mate!"

Dog-earing where he left off, James shut the screenplay and placed it under his bed. He would get to it later. The next time James asked Lily out, he was prepared to woo her with his knowledge of muggle culture. However, since he only got through the first few pages, the only information he knew was that biting thumbs was apparently rude and the Montagues and Capulets hated each other. Not much he could do with that.

But this time, Lily had a different comeback for him. It was another muggle colloquialism. One he was not accustomed to.

"I'll go out with you, James Potter," she said defiantly, "when pigs fly."

"When what?" James tilted his head in a quizzical manner.

"You heard me." Lily had her hands on her hips, "When. Pigs. Fly."

James watched her walk away, her head held high. Running his hands through his hair, he muttered to himself, "When pigs fly..."

"Mr. Potter, I swear I see you in the muggle section more than anyone else, including the muggle-borns!" Madam Pince declared, surprised to find the boy sitting on the ground surrounded by a multitude of books, scouring through them all.

"When do pigs fly, Madam Pince?" He looked up at her desperately. "When?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Lily Evans said she will go out with me when pigs fly! I need to know if that's some muggle tradition where they strap pigs to flying machines or something. Maybe it's a holiday! I need to know when pigs fly!"

Pince looked at him with deep sympathy, "Mr. Potter," she said firmly, "If you must know, the saying, 'when pigs fly' means it's something so absurd and impossible, it would never happen."

"I don't...I don't understand..."

"She says it won't ever happen, Mr. Potter."

"But... pigs can... fly."

"Can they?" Pince's lips quirked upwards; she was certainly intrigued.

"We are wizards after all," James said, rising up from his spot on the ground, "We can do anything."

James's eyes lit up as he looked at Madam Pince, the wheels in his head spinning with ideas. "If Evans wants flying pigs, then she'll get flying pigs."

Irma Pince did not have a good feeling about this.

And the next morning at breakfast, James discovered that neither did Lily.

"Oi, Evans. When did you say you would go out with me?" James asked, quite loudly in the middle of the dining hall.

Lily looked up from her bowl of oatmeal. "Excuse me?"