Mischief Managed!

27.

Much to Sirius' surprise, James met his eyes and grinned. "I think it's brilliant."

"Youwhat?" Sirius' voice cracked.

"You're free! They've been sitting smugly waiting for my parents to get sick of you, which they won't, by the way, and for you to come home with your tail between your legs. Don't you see? You'll never have to ask them for anything ever again!"

Sirius blinked. Well it certainly wasn't the reaction he had expected.

"You know, I don't think we've had such a good feast in a while," Sirius announced happily, making Tibby the house-elf beam with pleasure.

Peter grinned. "Didn't expect anything less," he reassured the elf, scratching his sandy blonde head.

Snape made a noise of displeasure from the ceiling, where he had been levitated and gagged some half hour previously.

"Don't even think of spitting in our food," James told him sternly.

"Well, here's to inheritance," Remus grinned, raising his bottle of butterbeer.

Sirius grinned. "No. Here's to us winning the game tomorrow. That's much more important."

"To Gryffindor!" James echoed, clinking his bottle with relish

James stumbled up to bed, hoping to Merlin that Lily hadn't waited up for him. He had decided during the course of the day that Lily probably wasn't lying: if she said she wanted to go out with him, she probably meant it. Nevertheless, James' parents had brought him up as a gentleman, and if one disregarded the pranks he pulled as a Marauder, he had more or less honoured that upbringing so far. Now was not the time to change.

Lily had indeed not waited up for him, and although James was secretly relieved, he was also a little disappointed. He prepared for bed quietly, and just before he drifted off to sleep, he made a secret resolution: if he was going to woo Lily Evans, he was going to go about it the right way.

When James emerged from his room the next morning, he found Lily waiting for him on the lounge.

"Morning," she smiled brightly, eyeing his messy black hair with what she found to be a surprising amount of fondness.

James grinned. Lily's hair was down, rich red waves cascading over her shoulders. Her cheeks were pink, and her Gryffindor scarf hung loosely around her neck.

"Coming to the match today?" he asked hopefully.

Lily's eyes glittered. "I wouldn't miss it," she said, so sincerely that James' stomach gave an uncomfortable yet pleasant flutter.

"May I walk you to breakfast, Miss Evans?" he asked gallantly, offering his arm to her.

Lily laughed. "You may, Mr. Potter. It would be my pleasure."

"And it's Barrow with the Quaffle – passes to Fletchley – Abbott – Barrow – narrowly avoids Reaser's bludger – Potter intercepts! – Back to- Fletchley intercepts, flies for Wood, and it's Fletchley, Fletchley… Hufflepuff scores! That's 160 – 0 to Hufflepuff."

Lily winced. The Gryffindor team regrouped in mid air, all looking solemn. Peter, next to her, shook his head and loosened his Gryffindor scarf.

"This is just embarrassing," he muttered. "I've never seen Prongs play so badly."

Lily looked at him, startled. "I thought he was doing well!"

Indeed, James had spent the better half of the last hour swooping around the Quidditch pitch in a remarkable display of flying prowess; in fact, Lily concluded that it was very unfortunate that he had not managed to score any goals. For that matter, it really was very unfortunate thatno one on the Gryffindor side had managed to score any goals.