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Lily by Secret Lily

Format: Novella
Chapters: 15
Word Count: 23,755

Rating: 12+
Warnings: Mild Language, Mild Violence

Genres: Humor, Romance
Characters: Lupin, Snape, Sirius, James, Lily, Pettigrew, OC

First Published: 08/29/2005
Last Chapter: 05/31/2006
Last Updated: 05/31/2006

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Lily Evans is not the sort of girl who would normally be found writing in a diary. Yet, when she starts, she finds that the easiest way to overcome all the obstacles in life is to let her emotions out onto paper.

Chapter 1: Welcome To My Life
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Chapter 1-Welcome To My Life

Normally, I try to steer clear of stereotypical trends, but yet, I find myself writing inside of a silly book and recording the inner workings of my mind. A diary. Yes, I, Lily Evans, am writing in a diary. The thought of it is absolutely mortifying, but here I am.

It feels awkwardly uncomfortable writing inside an empty book. What do you even know about me? Why should I pour out my soul into a complete stranger? I suppose I should start off with introducing myself and filling you in on why I have to write in a silly diary.

I’m Lily. My name’s not exactly unordinary, but it’s not common. Let’s just say it fits me well. I’m neither dull nor extraordinary; I’m simply me. I am your average fourteen year old girl with red hair and green eyes. I also happen to be a witch. Now, I know what you’re thinking, a witch? Yes, a witch. They exist so get used to it. I attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and am going to enter my fourth year.

Hogwarts is like a second home to me. I’ve grown in more ways than I can even imagine by attending that school. Unlike most of the students, I’m from a Muggle family. Not one of my relatives has a bit of magic in them, which makes me sort of rare. For the first couple years of my life, the fact that I am Muggleborn upset me. I felt like I had something to prove to everyone. I still get harassed, but now, I’ve learned to stand up for myself. Bravery is not to be taken lightly.

My parents were thrilled, maybe a bit shocked, when they found out the news. They’ve always known I was a bit different and that I would go on to do great things. For that, I love them so much. My sister, Petunia, has always had a problem with it. Her and I have never truly been close, but after my years at Hogwarts, we’re extremely distant. During the summer, she tries with all her might to make my life hell. That is partly the reason why I’m writing in this blasted diary.

My mum bought me this book after a particularly nasty comment from Petunia that involved the words, “freak”, “freak”, and even more original, “freak.” Yes, she doesn’t exactly embrace her creative side too often. Anyways, mum felt that it wasn’t right for me to always bite my tongue and that writing down my feelings would be a constructive outlet for my sadness/hurt/anger/etc.

What she doesn’t know is that what Petunia says doesn’t bother me. In fact, I’ve grown used to it. I don’t think I’m a freak, so why should I care that she thinks I am? Secretly, I think that Petunia wishes she could go to Hogwarts as well. She’s always been interested in rarities and Hogwarts is quite unusual in the Muggle world.

Hogwarts is indeed my passion, as well as my schoolwork. I prefer sitting down to a good Potions assignment to detention any day. A lot of people in my house, which happens to be Gryffindor, don’t really understand me very well. Let’s take Sirius Black for example. Sirius is a fellow fourth year and is known for his uncanny ability to completely neglect the rules. He has no desire to even lift a book and can’t stand being in the presence of someone who can. Yet, he’s from a pureblood wizarding family and doesn’t find everything as fascinating as I do.

Every aspect of the wizarding world intrigues me. Every single class I take is a new learning experience. I particularly enjoy Charms and Potions, most likely because I’ve been told I have natural ability. Professor Slughorn, the Potions teacher, reckons I could go on to become an Auror at the Ministry of Magic. I had to look up what an Auror was after this comment, but once I started reading, I couldn’t stop. Aurors have such dangerous and demanding jobs, but it’s truly wonderful to read about the process of becoming one.

My best friend, Holly Spinnet, has absolutely no interest in becoming an Auror. Her brother, Neal, is a professional Quidditch player and Holly has every intention of following in his footsteps. I love watching Quidditch, but there is no way I could do what Holly does. A rare fact about myself is that I am terribly afraid of heights. I am entirely satisfied by simply watching from the stands. And preferably not looking down.

I miss Holly. She is the only person at Hogwarts I can say truly understands me. Actually, well, I don’t think she understands me. I’m a bit of an odd duck, I guess. What I should have said was that she’s the only person who comes even remotely close to understanding me. We have our disagreements, but she understands the person that I am. If it wasn’t for her, I don’t know how I would have survived the first couple of years at Hogwarts. She never once felt any sort of prejudice against me because of my bloodline, which is usually an uncommon thing. I knew from the first day I met her that she was a friend worth keeping.

I guess we’re not exactly strangers anymore. I suppose it might be useful to have someone to confide in. With summer ending and the school year approaching, there is sure to be times when I’ll need that assuring feeling of having someone to talk to. I guess mum wasn’t completely wrong about this diary idea. But, on a side note, she was wrong about cuffing the sleeves of my robes. No matter what era, it will never be fashionable.

Until next time,

Lily Evans.

A/N: So, what did you think? It’s short, but it’s only the first chapter. This was a sort of prologue. Should I continue it? Let me know & please review. Thanks.

Chapter 2: Frizzy Hair
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Chapter 2-Frizzy Hair

Well, today has proven to be very interesting. As you know, it is September 1st, which means back to Hogwarts for me. Let me tell you, it was a day from hell.

I woke up this morning, extremely ecstatic, jumpy, and anxious (as I always am when I go back to Hogwarts) and immediately started dancing around on my bed (another ritual which shall never be repeated outside of these pages).

After I finished brushing my teeth, I looked up at the mirror to smile at it (I’m an odd one, I know) and I think I nearly cracked it when I screamed. I had a wad of pink bubblegum stuck in a huge chunk of my curly red hair!

Mum rushed up the stairs with a baseball bat and slowly eased it down as she saw that no one was trying to murder me. Instead, she tried getting the gum out of my hair. You see, if I could do magic outside of Hogwarts, I would have been able to get the gum out in a cinch. Sadly, I didn’t think of this until later. We tried peanut butter, but that definitely didn’t work; my hair is far too tangled for that. Then, Mum threatened my locks with scissors, to which I responded by screaming my head off at her about not coming near me without a beauty license.

So, after about an hour and a half of screaming and running away from my mother, I remembered about magic. Yes, sometimes even I, Lily Evans, forget about being a witch. I remember thinking to myself, “We’re allowed to use magic in special circumstances. If this isn’t an emergency, I don’t know what is.” So, I went for it. And you know what happened? I got a warning from the Improper Use of Magic Office (again) and they told me that if it happens again, I’ll be expelled. And you know what the worst part is? When I did the spell, my hair literally frizzed out as if I’d been electrocuted. Not cute. Not cute at all.

So, you can only imagine how enthused I looked to be entering the Hogwarts Express with my cat, Jules, clawing my arm and my red mess of a hair all over the place. Enthused is precisely the word to describe it.

Worst of all, I ran into someone that I completely and utterly loathe. James Potter, another Gryffindor in my year, bumped into me while I was walking, very quickly mind you, down the aisle and towards a compartment. He managed to catch a glimpse of me and ran off snickering with his friends about ‘that red head Evans sticking her finger in the toaster’.

When I met up with Holly, she couldn’t stop laughing for about fifteen minutes straight, at least. I stared across the compartment enviously as Holly sat, composed, with her perfect strawberry blonde curls and soft blue eyes. It is quite scary sometimes how striking she is; not beautiful, just striking. She is very poised, yet she is a complete slob behind the scenes. I am surprised at how she can present herself so neatly in public. This thought only made me fume even more.

I’m the neat, collected, organized one and somehow I always find myself in horribly embarrassing situations such as the one I went through. Ah, that’s the beauty of life. Nothing is fair and nothing is ironic.

For most of the train ride I continued moping about, staring out the window the entire time. Holly left a couple of times to go talk Quidditch with bloody James Potter. Today has only clarified the reason I don’t like him.

He walks around like he’s some sort of god, as if we’re all inadequate in comparison. It infuriates me. I hate people who feel they’re above everyone else. It’s snobbish and it disgusts me. The whole lot of Potter’s crew act like that. I don’t understand why everyone idolizes them. They’re four miscreants who feel they’re above the rules that the rest of us have to follow.

Anyways, back to the moment that reminded me exactly of why I disliked Potter…

He struts into mine and Holly’s compartment towards the end of the ride after we’d changed into our school robes. He peeks his big, fat head through the door and says in the perfect sneer, “I heard you did illegal magic, Evans.”

I was mortified. Forget about my hair. He had just told my best friend in the entire world about me breaking the law. I was ashamed of myself and I was very set on taking it to my grave, but then Potter comes and pops a big hole in that idea.

Apparently, his father is the head of the Improper Use of Magic Agency and Potter’s dad had to head off to work instead of escorting him to the train. So now, Black, Potter, and Pettigrew are having themselves a jolly good laugh about the gum in my hair. Remus Lupin, however, isn’t laughing, for which I’m very grateful. I’ve always liked Lupin. He’s sensitive, nice, smart. He is exactly the opposite of his three other mates. I don’t understand why someone like him would hang out with blokes like Potter and Black.

Holly didn’t even laugh, which I am also grateful for. She may laugh when it’s the two of us in private, but she’s very loyal. She never lets anyone bully her friends and nor do I. We both know the appropriate times for laughter and this was not one of them. She could see how embarrassed I was getting.

I can honestly say that the only highlight of my entire day was when Holly pulled the bubblegum she was chewing right out of her mouth and placed it right into Potter’s mop of hair. Now, that was hysterical. He darted out of the compartment, his cheeks are flushed. I’ve never seen Potter embarrassed. It was truly something to witness.

Now that I look back on it though, I feel a bit repulsed. I laughed at someone’s embarrassment, which is something Potter does. I’ll most likely grumble an apology tomorrow for my guilt, no matter how much the git annoys me. I know how it feels to be embarrassed and caught off guard and I know I hate it when people laugh at me. I suppose it’s just not right or fair for me to laugh at them, even Potter.

Even though I had the worst day of my life today, at the end of the day, I am overjoyed to just lay down on my bed and write in this diary. Holly was really surprised when she saw me writing in a diary, but she overlooked it. I think I saw her trying to make her own out of pieces of parchment. Ah, Lily Evans, trendsetter. Ha, sure, that’ll be the day.

Hogwarts is my true home and I am extremely pleased to be back. It’s hard to believe how much I missed this place, excluding Potter and Black.

Uh oh, Holly’s trying to read in this. I better go. I don’t want her to see the part about me being envious of her cool earlier. Got to go throw a shoe at her head.

Until next time,

Lily Evans

A/N: Alright, it was short. Sorry. I couldn’t make it any longer. I tried, but it just didn’t work. Well, tell me what you think. Please review. Thanks!

Chapter 3: Hatred
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Chapter 3-Hatred

As if the first day of school wasn’t bad enough, I was lucky enough to experience yet another ‘beautiful’ day at Hogwarts. I now thoroughly believe that my fourth year at Hogwarts is cursed. I don’t know exactly what I’ve done to deserve this torment, but whatever it was, it must have been excruciatingly horrible.

Last night, I laid down in my warm, soft, comfortable bed and closed my eyes, looking forward to drifting off into a peaceful slumber until morning. That is, until my sleeping cat, Jules, started having nightmares. I mean, the poor cat has always been a little out there, but the veterinarian says the nightmares are perfectly normal. I’d love to show him my leg full of nicks and scratches. I am going to go talk to Professor Kettleburn tomorrow about feline nightmares.

After enduring a very non-peaceful night, I awoke groggy and exhausted (having only slept about two hours). I managed to brush my teeth, get dressed, and gather my books, my red hair in tangles for the second time this year. Collected Lily Evans was no longer collected.

The entire irony of the situation was that Holly, as I’ve mentioned before, is a disgusting slob. I usually find candy in the sink and papers in my shoes. Yet, there she was, sitting down looking as tranquil and poised as someone should after having gotten nine hours of sleep.

I looked up at her, my emerald green eyes blood shot and watery. The rest of the Gryffindor table watched as I stammered out, “Someone want to pass the coffee?”

“Merlin, Evans, what happened to you?” someone asked. That someone happened to have his notorious arrogant smirk planted on his face. Of course, James Potter was wide awake.

“Mind your own business, Potter,” I managed to spit out before downing a hot cup of black coffee. It was strong, but I knew I’d need the energy boost.

“Lily,” Holly whispered into my ear, dragging me out of the Great Hall. “What happened?”

“What do you mean what happened?” I asked, still holding firmly onto my cup. “I didn’t get any sleep last night. Jules kept me up.”

Holly eyed my face carefully, her eyes skimming over my cheeks. “She did a number on you,” she commented. “We should take you to Poppy.”

“It’s not that bad,” I assured her. “I’m more concerned for her than I am for myself.”

“It’s just that, well, when you entered the Great Hall, you looked like you were ready to kill someone,” Holly told me.

Great, I thought. People are going to start worrying I’m going to murder them in their sleep.

“Have a rough night last night?” Sirius Black asked, winking in my direction.

“Not that it concerns you, Black, but yes, I did,” I told him, the coffee hot on my tongue. As I said this, all the males at the table snorted into their food. Holly gave me a bewildered look. She obviously had no idea what was going on.

I glared over at James Potter, knowing he knew exactly what was going on. I could tell he was intentionally averting my gaze. I felt my cheeks redden as the laughter and whispers began. I could feel eyes on my back, but I tried to ignore it.

When Bertha Jorkins, an older girl from Hufflepuff who is more infamously known as being the school gossip, approached me, I knew something was going on. It wasn’t because of my appearance necessarily. It was something else, something bigger.

“Lily,” she said into my ear quietly. “Is it true?”

“Is what true?” I asked her defensively.

“That you and Snape were snogging last night in the Astronomy Tower,” Bertha clarified for me.

Holly gasped and everyone must have seen the look on my face as they all stopped laughing and pointing. I looked over my shoulder at Severus Snape, who was looking down straight into his food darkly as everyone bombarded him with questions.

“Who told you that?” I asked menacingly. My voice was low and quiet, but Bertha heard every word.

“Well, it’s all over school,” Bertha explained. “Everyone’s talking about it.”

And then it hit me. My emerald green eyes snapped over to Potter and he was carelessly talking with his friends, most likely making an impersonation of me and Snape going at it.

I walked right over to him, tapped him on the shoulder.

“Shouldn’t you be off talking to Sniv--,” he began before I smacked him across the face. With that, I walked out of the Great Hall, my chin up and my eyes holding back tears.

I had never done anything to Potter to make him do such a cruel thing. Who could be so cruel? Rumors are ugly, nasty, vile things. Then again, it’s Potter we’re talking about. Holly came up to the dorm to talk to me. Yet, right now, I don’t want to talk to anyone.

This morning, I thought I was doomed this year. Now, I know I’m doomed. If only today had been as simple as getting my cat checked for sleeping problems.

And today, my rivalry with James Potter turned into more than rivalry. I hate him.

A/N: Short, but this story is giving me writer’s block. Not my finest. Please review anyways.

Chapter 4: Ugly Duckling
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Chapter 4-Ugly Duckling

One month is a very long time to hold onto a rumor. Yet, Hogwarts seems to have risen above my expectations and lingered upon this so-called gossip. Yes, I, Lily Evans, have apparently been very busy. James Potter may have started the talk, but he certainly didn’t finish it. I can’t go anywhere without people calling behind my back, “Evans, going to go give Snape’s lips a bit of exercise?”

Ew. No.

Why Snape? I mean, I hardly ever talk to Severus Snape. It’s beyond me why the two of us, who hardly ever associate in social situations, are on the receiving end of these rumors.

Thank Merlin for Holly though. She’s been doing her best to try and shut everyone up. Might I let you know, that Holly can be very forceful when she wants to. After I slapped James Potter across the face, she managed to clobber him over the head with her schoolbag. I had never been more proud.

I’m not even sure if Potter feels remorseful in the least. He carries on as if the world should worship his every breath. I’ve never met someone so full of their self. Well, maybe Sirius Black, but then again, he never really lets on to his arrogance. You’ve got to actually talk to him to know. Potter, on the other hand, would scream it from a building that he thought he was Merlin’s gift to the world.

Let me tell you, I’m not in a very thankful mood. Sorry, Merlin.

I’m only fourteen years old and only yesterday, I swear to God, I saw a gray hair. I nearly had a heart attack. Holly had to come in and settle me down. I’m telling you, if I go gray at fourteen, I will bloody murder James Potter. And while I’m at it, I may as well give Snape a grand snog because he’ll be the only one willing.

Reasoning Behind So-Called Gray Hair

1) School--Fourth year is not supposed to be this hard. I may have developed a slight hunchback due to the exuberant amount of books I’ve been forced to carry. Not only will I be gray, people will lock me away in the Astronomy Tower and call me Quasimodo.

2) My cat--I really am worried about her. Despite the nightmares, she really is an odd cat. The poor thing only has one eye, which is pretty unique in itself. Frankly, I have no idea what happened to the other one, but I really am not all that willing to find out. I bought her at an animal shelter in London with my sister and my mum. Petunia was absolutely appalled that I chose, in her words, ‘the most demented cat in the entire lot’, but I knew that I had to have her. I mean, the chances of someone else finding the beauty in a one-eyed cat was slim to none. The world is sadly filled with a bunch of Petunias. I couldn’t just leave her there to rot. The eye has sort of grown on me too. It still freaks Holly out, but we love Jules all the same.

3) Transfiguration--I suppose that this would qualify under school, but let me tell you, Transfiguration in itself is a burden. I just can’t bloody concentrate. Hard enough as it is, it’s even worst when I hear James bleeding Potter boasting about how he managed to achieve the assigned task with his eyes closed whilst hopping around on one leg. Yet another reason to smack him across the face.

4) Bad Genes--Mum doesn’t have gray hair and she’s extremely ancient in comparison to me. I suppose that I must receive all the recessive genes in our family. Maybe premature graying is one of them. I mean, I am the only witch in the family. It is highly possible that I received the worst genes.

5) Maybe it wasn’t a gray hair at all. Maybe I am simply evolving into a slob and have taken to getting food caught in my hair. That seems simply preposterous though. And disgusting.

Finally, the true reasoning why I feel I’ve developed a gray hair,

6) James Potter

Lately, I’ve taken to noticing the changes around me. Maybe I’m just sentimental or I don’t deal well with change, but everything seems to be getting so different without any warning whatsoever.

Only just yesterday, I noticed the change in my best friend. Holly has always been striking and a wonderful person to look at, but something seemed so mature about her. She seemed very adult-like yesterday and I could hardly believe that the two of us were in the same year. Why had she changed so much and I so little?

I still look the same as I did when I came into Hogwarts back in first year. My hair still gets frizzy, my eyes still bagged and bloodshot when I don’t sleep enough, I still get blemishes on my face when I eat too much chocolate, my clothes never fit right, and I still seem younger than I really am.

Holly’s gone from normal to extraordinary in less than a year’s time and well, frankly, I am a bit jealous. She always seems much more collected than I, even when she endures the same situations as I do. It’s enough to make one miserable.

Plus, she didn’t find a gray hair on her scalp.

I must be like that old muggle fable, the Ugly Duckling. Holly’s the swan, while I’m still caught in the before phase.

And it’s not only Holly either. Others in our year have transformed, so to speak. It makes me wonder when my time will come. Will I know?

According to the entire school though, I’ve matured a lot since last year, snogging Snape and all. That rumor has got to stop. It really is getting tiring. Well, at least people won’t mistake me for a first year anymore. Now, that was unfortunate.

Great, Holly the new queen of perfection has just strode in and told me that now people are talking about Snape and I becoming an exclusive item. There is going to be hell to pay, James Potter.

Got to go deliver a beating,

Lily, the graying duckling

A/N: Let me know what you think. This was sort of a perspective chapter. I wanted everyone to get to know Lily & her friend a bit more. Hope this helped. Please review.

Chapter 5: Hall Brawl '74
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Chapter 5-Hall Brawl ‘74

I am starting to believe that there is an elaborate scheme taking place at Hogwarts. Honestly, how else would the Marauders have become so popular? There is no other explanation. They’re illegally persuading the whole school into believing them gods. Even Holly has started to rave about how funny they are, how cute they’re becoming, and how brilliant their pranks are.

Gag me.

1) They’re not funny. Not in the least. Every single joke that they make is at another’s expense. Cruel. Now, cruel and funny hold two completely different meanings. When I pointed this out to Holly, she simply rolled her eyes at me. I’m starting to notice that she’s gotten into that ugly habit. Rolling eyes is extremely offensive. She’s lucky I love her so much. I mean, has she even considered that it might offend me? Jules, my beloved cat, can only roll one eye. I’ll make sure to point this out to her next time she goes defending those blasted Marauders by rolling those eyes.

Anyways, back onto my rant…

2) Cute? As in physically cute? No, no, no. Each and every one of them is extremely loathsome. Well, at least ¾ are. Remus isn’t perhaps that bad. But don’t get me started on the school’s latest fixations, Sirius Black and James Potter. For some reason, messy hair and tall limbs has become suddenly dreamy, their words, not mine. I mean, maybe Black could be considered somewhat attractive, but honestly, his personality definitely takes care of any romantic feelings I may have had for him otherwise. He is absolutely repulsive.

Now, James Potter doesn’t seem remotely cute in the least. His hair is unmanageable, although I suppose I can’t really talk, and those stupid glasses always sit crookedly on his nose. What can possibly be charming about that?

3) Their pranks are not witty, nor are they hysterical, comedic, amusing, humorous, entertaining, laughable, priceless, side-splitting, etc. Now, if by witty she meant stupid, brainless, vindictive, irresponsible, idiotic, senseless, or moronic, then I would agree with her. Holly, by definition, was extremely off on her adjective.

Now, diary, you may be wondering exactly why I hate the Marauders so much, particularly at this point in time. Let me tell you:

They locked me in a blasted broom cupboard with Severus Snape. Yes, oh so witty.

You should have seen the faces as I exited the closet. There had to be hundreds of kids, no, maybe thousands, waiting to take a peek at Snape and myself. It was hard to explain that nothing whatsoever had happened, considering my hair was a wreck once again and Severus Snape was blushing in all his glory. The stupid git didn’t even attempt to explain that we were simply toys in this elaborate scheme.

So, now, I don’t even feel bad for him when the Marauders prank him. Alright, I do a little, but merely out of concern for his undergarments. They are exposed to the public FAR too much.

Do you know who was laughing his merry little arse off as I walked down the hall shamefully. Oh, yes, Mr. Dreamy himself, James bleeding Potter.

So, for the second time in one semester, I hit him. Although, this time, I didn’t stop with a measly slap. I found myself literally throwing my entire body weight onto him and pummeling him onto the ground as hard as I could. I was so angry. I just hit and hit, hoping to break those bloody glasses that wouldn’t sit straight on his stupid nose. Every single angry, resentful thought I felt against him came out as I hit him. Yet, he refused to defend himself.

Stupid superior male and his stupid morals. It’s some unwritten law that guys can’t hit girls. And here I was, ready to duke it out with him.

I only stopped as I felt two pairs of hands grabbing onto me, pulling me off of him. At this point, I was in tears, up to my brim in hysterics.

“Let me go,” I shouted. “He deserves it.”

As I turned out, I saw Holly and Remus pulling me off of him. Holly, my own friend, watching me with her sympathetic eyes.

“I don’t need your pity,” I spat at her as I walked down the corridor angrily. Yes, temperamental comes to mind as of right now. Yet, most people chose not to refer to this incident as a ‘temper-tantrum’. No, it was affectionately dubbed, ‘Evans-Potter Hall Brawl ‘74’. I even think they’re making a memorial plaque to put up in the Great Hall.

Even as I felt victorious, leaving the scene of the crime, I knew I was going to have to pay. I knew that I was going to probably be punished extremely for my actions.

And I was right. Oh, yes, I was to be serving my first detention.

If that wasn’t bad enough, I was to be sharing this momentous occasion with none other than my snog mate, Snape, and my victim, Potter.

Oh, yes, one could definitely say I was thrilled about this.

So, here I am, sitting in this mangy, dumb classroom with two of my favorite people, James Potter and Severus Snape. I brought you along, diary, because, well, I need something to keep me sane.

As McGongall led us into this room, her thin mouth grim and disappointed, she told us, “The three of you obviously have some issues you need to work out. It will be detention every night until progress is made.”

Every bloody night? That witch (yes, excuse the pun) expects me to spend my evenings with these two nutcases?

So, right now, I am surrounded by a cruel silence and even crueler company. Snape seemed to be drawing on parchment. Merlin only knows what he could be drawing. Probably himself drowning poor, innocent puppies or something along those lines. One day, I saw him killing frogs by the lake. Normally, I would say something, but that is too demented for words.

Potter seems to be biting on his nails. It’s rather disgusting if you ask me. All I hear is click, chew, chew, click. Very annoying. He’s been doing this for the last hour so I guess you can say it’s long past the verge of annoying.

Oh, and the chew-click combo has stopped.

Swoosh. Swoosh. Swoosh.

And now he’s found a new way to make noise. I have no idea how he’s producing these so-called swooshes, but he certainly is becoming extremely irritating, even for his standards.

He keeps trying to see what I’m writing, which is perturbing, not to mention nosy.


There. Problem solved.

We’ve been here for two and a half hours and I honestly don’t know how much more I can take of his. It’s just so boring. All I can do is sit here and think about what I’ve done. I mean, it’s not like I have any choice. When teachers say, “Sit here and think about what you’ve done”, they really know what they’re talking about. There’s nothing else to think about. My mind’s already skimmed over the normal topics; Have I done my homework?, Did I feed Jules before I came?, Potter resembles a baboon, etc. So, now, all I can think about is what happened.

I mean, I don’t feel guilty in the least for hitting Potter. I actually feel pretty empowered that someone finally gave James Potter a black eye. For all he’s done in the past, he deserved it.

I do, however, feel guilty about lashing out at Holly. She was only trying to help. I mean, Remus and her were the only ones thinking practically. They knew both Potter and I would get in a lot of trouble if teachers caught us (which they did) so they tried to prevent it. Everyone else, Sirius Black especially, sat back laughing. They seemed to find the Hall Brawl ‘74 extremely amusing.

I do hope that Holly knows now what I was talking about when I told her the Marauder’s pranks are the farthest thing from amusing. I’m living proof, as is Snape, stupid, demented git that he is.

Oh god, now he’s staring at me. Actually, staring. So, diary, all I can really do is stare back.

Why isn’t he blinking?!?



Come on, Potter, blink already.

Alright, so now I guess we’re having some sort of staring contest. I refuse to participate in such a childish game.

Ok, maybe I lied. I just don’t want him to win.

Don’t blink, Lily. Don’t do it. Don’t let him win.

Great, he blinked. Yes, there was sarcasm attached to that last statement. Because, along with blinking, the stupid prat winked at me. How immature. Sore loser.

Get me out of this mess,


A/N: Alright, so I found that this chapter was kind of easy to write. It wasn’t too short. I personally am starting to like writing for this story a bit more now that Lily’s developing some sort of character. I honestly don’t know how long this story is going to go. I’d imagine until she graduated. Maybe. Don’t take my word on that. Hope you liked it. Please review.

Chapter 6: Curiosity About The Cat
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Chapter 6-Curiosity About the Cat

Woe is me, diary. Yes, I am throwing myself a dignified pity party, thank you very much. If anyone deserves sympathy at the present time, it’s me. The hell I’ve had to endure, the torture, the suffering. And well, that’s only detention. I suppose life in general’s been pretty disappointing as well.

I find that talking to a one-eyed cat and a one-eyed cat alone can probably be considered unhealthy, as well as socially awkward. Yet, Jules is the only company I have outside of classes and detention.

Holly attempted to patch things up with me, but I, Lily, always the stubborn one, merely brushed her off. I can’t say it was ridiculously uncalled for, but it would have been easier to share my woes with an actual human being opposed to a cat.

Woes indeed. It seems that Severus Snape actually is as demented as the Marauders make them out to be. He spends the entire detention drawing really disturbing images that I can’t even understand half of the time. One time, he caught me staring and actually hissed at me. Yes, hissed! I wasn’t sure whether I was supposed to be embarrassed or confused. Let me tell you, I was a little bit of both. Actually, no, I wasn’t really embarrassed at all. Mainly just confused.

Plus, he seems to be enjoying this ‘glory’ he’s received from being associated with both my lips and the Hall Brawl. In the halls, he always makes a point of curling up his lips when I pass or brushing by me in the classroom. It’s enough to make me want to vomit. Snape? Severus Snape? Even if he was a nice person, well, he’s extremely whacked, if you ask me. You just don’t go around hissing at people.

I mean, it’s only common manners not to. When you’re young, your parents establish the basic principles that guide you through life. Manners, right and wrong, birds and the bees, etc.

Now, I don’t really know how Snape’s family conducts the do’s and don’t list, but well, I imagine it must look like this judging from poor Severus’ behavior.

Draw creepy, demented drawings AS OFTEN AS POSSIBLE!
Kill innocent insects without any guilt whatsoever (I mean, come on! Even if they are disgusting and annoying, a little pity here and there wouldn’t be frowned upon)
Pretend to be Lily Evans’ boyfriend despite the fact that she wouldn’t be caught dead snogging anyone with such horrible manners.
Hiss at attractive red headed fourth year girls

Hold respect for hygiene. Clean the grime, commit a crime.

Hm, I haven’t really gotten to know him so I don’t actually know much about the ‘Don’t’ part of the list. Severus Snape seems oddly fascinating, even if he is an ignorant git.

Yet, Snape I can handle. Snape is quiet, minds his own business, and divulges himself into those creepy drawings. I really would prefer being in a room with ten thousand Severus Snape’s opposed to one James Potter.

I never knew Potter could be so bloody annoying! I always thought he was rude and superficial, but I never expected him to be so irritating. Well, actually, yes I did. Strike that.

What I meant to say was that because he’s so popular, I never imagined he’d be so unlikable. I could be a brick wall and yet, Potter would still find a medium topic of conversation.

“So, what’s it like being a brick wall? Must be pretty boring, huh? What do you do all day?”

Merlin, the boy’s questions are endless. It’s “Evans” this and “Evans” that. He knows we have detention every night, yet he deliberately comes empty handed. Both Snape and I always brings a notebook with us. Not Potter. Nope, he insists upon bugging me.

Questions I’ve Been Asked By James Potter
Pt. One

001. What’s your middle name?
002. Do you have any pets?
003. Really? One eye? That’s weird. How’d that happen?
004. You don’t know? Aren’t you ever curious?
005. You can’t just tell someone that and expect them not to be inquisitive. I mean, does the one eye give your cat problems? Can she still go on with her daily life?
006. No, Evans, it was not that obvious. Why do you always have such a chip on your shoulder?

At this point, I believe we’d had exactly two minutes and twenty three seconds of silence before the questions continued, sometimes without me even having to answer.

007. Evans, you ever wonder what it’s like to walk on the moon?
008. What is gravity in your opinion?
009. Did you know Sirius has a star named after him?
010. Have you ever gotten heart burn? It’s really uncomfortable and well, I think that everyone should be made aware of it.
011. Does the one eye bother Holly? Does it bother you?

He just wouldn’t shut up about the eye. He wants to meet my cat now. James Potter wants to meet my physically handicapped cat. No way in bloody hell is that ever going to happen. Laughable.

As if I’d ever let anyone as balmy as Potter near my perfectly normal cat, Jules. Alright, well, she’s not exactly sane, but that’s another story entirely. And you know what fascinated him even more than the eye thing (which he brought up at least another twelve times before the night was through)? Her nightmares.

“What, are you some kind of cat fiend, Potter?” I inquired as we made to leave the door. I heard Snape snort, an unusual sound effect for him. Hissing must have become overplayed.

“No,” he insisted sullenly. “Can’t a guy just be curious.”

“No, Potter,” I told him harshly. “A guy can. A normal, perfectly sane guy can. But you, Potter? You always seem to have an ulterior motive to everything. Going to blackmail me anytime soon? Hold my cat for ransom? What? What are you going to try and pull this time?”

He stared at me, as if seeing me somewhat differently now, and shrugged angrily. “You just don’t get it, Evans,” he told me.

Get what? How am I supposed to get it if he doesn’t explain himself? He is not an open book, despite however much he believes he is.

I’m starting to think there’s something seriously wrong with him. First the questions and now the stares. And not only in detention either. He stares at me in class. It’s really weird. I mean, maybe I’m paranoid, but I feel like at any moment, he’s going to spring some humiliating prank that will further prove my point regarding his despicability.

It’s because of him that the entire school thinks I go have my way with Snape each night and that I have frequent rage black outs. Furthermore, it is his fault that Holly and I are no longer on proper speaking terms. If he hadn’t started that blasted rumor to begin with, Holly would more than likely be criticizing the fact that I didn’t straighten my hair this morning.

I miss her and I know I’m being stubborn about it, even though I still hold all the blame on Potter. I can’t just give up my pride though. Too much of my dignity has been stolen and laughed at by the student body of Hogwarts. I no longer have a squeaky clean reputation. I’m tarnished. Bruised. Broken. Lonely.

And even more so, I’m thoroughly annoyed with everyone. Everyone except Jules. Bless her and her one eye.

I really wish I wasn’t so stubborn. Bah.

Let me wallow,

Please review.

Chapter 7: James and Jules
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Chapter 7-James and Jules

Reluctantly, I decided to patch things up with Holly. She still disapproves of my so-called ‘temper tantrum’, but the two of us have decided to pleasantly agree to disagree. So, now that I have her back, she won’t shut her bloody trap.

I mean, I’ve told her about the detentions I’ve been serving as of late and well, she finds them extremely fascinating. Why? Couldn’t tell you. If I’d have to pinpoint her object of interest, I would say James Potter himself. She’s been raving about the boy. I mean, she’s not romantically interested in him or anything. She’s just been awfully curious and well, she won’t share those blasted suspicions of hers.

Always the same questions, over and over again.

“He stares at you a lot?” she asked me, her eyes excited and full of dancing revelations. “He wants to meet Jules?”

“Well, yeah, but who wouldn’t? She has one eye,” I pointed out. It was true. Often, people just found the oddest quirks interesting. I mean, if I wasn’t so used to it and I didn’t love my cat dearly, I would probably be somewhat repulsed. But the fact of the matter is that I am used to it and she is my little pride and joy. So there. “And it’s not like I’d even think of exposing my precious cat to that absolute nightmare.”

“Why not?” Holly inquired thoughtfully. “I mean, Jules really does need more human interaction. Not many people want to pet a one-eyed cat. Sure, they want to look at it. They want to laugh at it. They want to marvel over the possibilities pertaining as to how exactly she came about being one-eyed. But, they normally don’t have any desire to pet the poor dear.”

“Yourself included,” I reminded her once more.

“That is completely besides the point,” Holly dismissed. “I am trying to say that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, for everyone actually, if you and Potter tried hanging out outside of detention. I mean, lord knows we could live without any public displays of violence.”

She was out of her mind. I told her just this and she simply rolled her eyes and passed me the cat. I think I saw her flinch a bit, but I overlooked this.

And when I refused once more, she literally pushed me down the stairs. I could have died! I could have acquired a fracture of some sort or even a permanent affliction, such as an irrational fear of stairs. I do believe that I shouted this up to the closed door that Holly was lurking behind.

However, I did not develop any mental or physical injuries. I only managed to topple onto my behind, landing at the bottom of the stairs in front of nearly every Gryffindor in the common room.

And to my surprise, it was Potter who helped me up. Yes, scrawny, stupid, slippery Potter. If I weren’t so polite, I probably would have screamed. And yes, to answer any and all questions, I was cringing on the inside.

He provided a shocking smirk and eventually noticed that I was carrying Jules, who happened to be clawing my robes vigorously.

“Is this Jules?” he asked me, petting her carefully. If things hadn’t been bizarre enough, Jules actually stopped clawing me to release a satisfied purr of some sort. And she hates almost everyone.

“Do you know any other one-eyed cats?” I responded, hoping that didn’t sound rude. He didn’t seem offended in the least, only mesmerized with the one-eye.

“Does she still have nightmares?” he asked. I was sort of surprised he even remembered that tiny, insignificant detail.

“Nearly every night,” I told him quietly.

I really didn’t like where this whole ‘befriend Potter’ idea was going. It was sort of flustering, especially so considering that the whole common room was watching us as if we were some highly amusing circus freak show.

So, as Potter was petting Jules, I mumbled out, “I really do have to go do some homework. In my room. So, I guess I’ll be going.”

“Can the cat stay?” he asked, as I headed up the stairs.

And, reluctantly, I let Jules trample down the steps to go sit with James Potter in the common room. I am such an idiot.

A couple of days later, I was scurrying around the dorm room, attempting to find a sketchbook to bring with me to detention. No, I was not going to draw creepy Snape-like images, thanks. I was only bringing it to doodle in. Anything to distract me from that incessant twerp so affectionately named Potter.

Holly entered, a devious grin adorning her face.

“You know who I saw getting cozy on the Gryffindor couch?” she taunted, nearly laughing.

“Don’t care,” I managed to spit out, while fervently searching in my trunk.

“Potter and Jules,” she told me, despite my lack of interest in the conversation.

“So?” I inquired, looking up at her from the ground.

“Just saying that they make a remarkable couple, is all,” she said, whistling as she flopped down onto her bed.

What was she trying to get at anyways? So what if Potter liked my cat? That didn’t mean anything. Even though she had one-eye, she is a very likeable cat. Pft. Holly just never got to know her. I mean, just because she has some weird phobia, doesn’t mean that everyone does.

But, now that she mentions it, I am rather curious as to why he is so interested in my cat. It’s really irking me, truth be told. At least I have something to do in detention now.

Potter & Jules-- How did this happen?

Possibility 01--Potter was deprived as a child and is using my cat to fulfill his youth-filled dreams of owning a pet of his very own.

Possibility 02--Fate. Maybe it’s written in the stars that Potter and Jules belong together. If so, I will NOT be attending the wedding.

Possibility 03--He’s extremely desperate.

I’m leaning towards the third possibility, if I must say so myself. I spent so much time pondering the idea of Potter enjoying the company of my cat that I, well, lost track of time and barely noticed his eyes straying on mine every so often. Alright, I did notice this, but it bugged me a bit less since I had something to focus my attention on.

As the three of us, Snape, Potter, and myself, drifted apart after detention, I came across none other than Sirius ‘Love My Body’ Black. I heard him chanting that one day in the common room and now he has officially been dubbed so.

“Why, Evans, what a surprise to see you on this very beautiful night,” Black told me suavely.

Let me refrain from hacking all over this diary.

“Has anyone ever mentioned how the hall light brings out your eyes?” he questioned, as charmingly as he could.

Not charming enough, Black. Sorry.

“No, but I’m oh-so glad you noticed,” I told him coldly, walking away.

He ran to catch up with me, shouting, “Wait, Evans!”

“What is wrong with you, Black? The two of us hold a mutual understanding of the fact that neither one of us cares for the other. We both find the other loathsome, irritating, and insufferable. Now, please, let’s leave it at that,” I told him.

“You have a point,” he told me. “But I’m not here for me. Well, I’m not here on anyone’s behalf, actually. Merely trying to be a good friend.”

“Enlighten me,” I told him, pausing to roll my eyes.

And as he told me exactly why he was there, I think I bloody fainted. I woke up in my dorm room, with you, diary, clenched so tightly to my chest, and the feeling of immense motion sickness overcame me.

I now know why James Potter was becoming buddy-buddy with my cat.

Apparently, he likes me.


Sick until death, Lily

A/N: Please review.

Chapter 8: Goodbye Cruel World
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Chapter 8-Goodbye Cruel World

I, Lily Evans, have decided that this page is my last will and testament. There is no longer justice in this institution many refer to as Hogwarts. There is no longer peace. There is no longer innocence. I have come to these conclusions on my own and trust me, this decision is NOT entirely based upon the acquirement of recent information.

Alright, it is.

James ruddy Potter. If there was ever a more confusing boy, he’d probably like me too. I have the worst luck in the world. And that is why I have to decided to run away.

Vanish. Let everyone believe me dead. I am going to travel the world with nothing but dirty fingernails and a ragged rucksack to carry. Because, well, a girl can always use clean socks. That is, if I even decide to wear socks. It would be entirely acceptable if I didn’t seeing as I plan on living the life of a bum. Lily Evans, bum extraordinaire. Not a bad ring, if you ask me.

Holly probably won’t understand and that is why, you, diary are going to be left in her possession. She will have to read every cryptic word I’ve written within your fragile binding. And Holly, if you’re reading this, please disregard all the nasty things I wrote about you when we were fighting. And when we weren’t fighting. I’m just a brute. And that is why, I must leave this existence I’ve so comfortably become fond of.

I don’t own many valuables, but I figure that this is only a will if there is an according property distribution.

Desired Wishes of Lily Evans
From the ugly duckling herself

1) To Holly--

a) It is in my last hope that you can come to live with my ‘death’. And it was death, I tell you, even if no one is able to find a body. The ‘killer’ has cleverly hidden my remains. And no, I’m not going to tell you who the killer is. Wait--yes, I am! It was Filch. I bloody hate that man. He was jealous that his cat had two eyes, while mine is special and has one. There’s your motive. Anyways, in order for you to properly understand the events preceding my death, you can have my precious diary.

Blast! I can’t give her the diary if I want her to believe me dead and gone. I already wrote myself that I’m running away.

b) When I said I was running away, the killer (Filch) was placing the Imperius curse upon me. Awful, I know. I died a hero’s death.

c) Don’t worry, I won’t be leaving Jules with you. I know how much you hate her (even though I also know how much you secretly harbor feelings of deep love for the cat you claim is ‘out of it’s nearly non-existent mind’) Jules will be given to safe (dare I say) hands.

2) James Potter--

a) Yes, you’re included in my will. Don’t get your g-string in a bunch. I am only including you in my will because I know you have a strong fetish for my cat. Therefore, as much as it pains me to say this, Jules is all yours. I won’t be able to properly care for her now that I’m a lady on the run. Er, I mean, now that I’m dead.

b) Actually, truth is, the reason I’m leaving (yes, I know, shocking that I’m not actually dead) is because your so-called mate fed me the truth. And now that I can no longer yell at you, I feel it is my duty to say this: Are you out of your mind?!? You liking me? Disgusting. Horrible. We have no chemistry, whatsoever. I don’t even find you attractive. You’re despicable and I hate you.

Suck on that.

Probably not the best approach. Ah, well, at least he can hate me in peace.

3) Jules--

Now, darling, you’re not getting a thing merely because I’m afraid you’d tear whatever it is I give you to shreds. So, I’m writing you this farewell note in hopes you can forgive me.

I want you to forget about me, Jules. Forget you ever clawed up my entire left shin. Forget that you ever slept in my extremely frizzy hair. Forget that I ever swore at you about your quite disturbing nightmares. Just forget about me.

James, your new master, will take good care of you. He likes cats, especially you. He’s the one that you sit with in the common room, despite my many wishes that you wouldn’t. So, go off and have mixed-specie babies. I’m sure they’ll be---cute.

Oh, and really, give Holly hell. I mean, it’s not your fault you only have one eye.

Now that all this official business is taken care of, I’m going to go and take a roam around the castle for the last time. I’m sure it won’t be too hard to leave.

I can’t do it, diary! I just can’t. The castle is too beautiful. Too magical. It’s too much of a home for me to leave.

Sorry, fellow bums. Sorry, cruel world. I’m staying. I just can’t bare to leave. It’s too hard. What would I do without my daily classes? Without the view of the Great Lake? Without the house elves’ delicious cooking? I think I would actually die.

Why is it that I’m talking about death an awful lot today? Really, it’s bizarre.

Oh, wait, I remember. Potter.

Now that I’ve decided to live, I can further examine the mystery I have entitled..

James Potter 101
How and why did this happen?

Who: According to witness #1, Sirius ‘I Don’t Know His Middle Name’ Black, James ‘I Couldn’t Give Two Crumpets About’ Potter has a so-called crush on me, Lily ‘I Wish I Really Was A Bum’ Evans.

What: This has been classified as a tragedy.

Where: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, an institution for learning. I don’t remember hearing ANYTHING about inter-gender relations. None, whatsoever. So, clearly, it would be absolutely appalling for anyone on the administration for find out about this newfound infatuation. Interesting indeed.

When: 1974, a year from hell.

Why: I’d really like to know. Why couldn’t it have been Holly or someone else who can at least tolerate him? But no, Potter’s difficult and chooses the one person at this school besides Snape who is absolutely repulsed at the mere thought of him.

And to make things even better, I’ve got to go to detention. My life is so swell. And yes, there was immense sarcasm attached to that statement. But, on the bright side, I’m not running away.

Some bright side, if you ask me.

Well, diary, after returning from detention, I now know that life was indeed worth sticking around for. Hogwarts, glorious Hogwarts, sing me your praises! I love my life! I love it, I love it, I ABSOLUTELY love it.

This world is so beautiful, so compassionate, that I can hardly ponder as to why I wished to leave. So, I know you’re wondering, why the change of heart?

I’ll tell you; Remus Lupin.

After detention, I was so frustrated at Potter, who coincidentally stared at me the entire time, I ran into Remus in the halls. He’s always been a good friend, has always been someone to talk to. So, the two of us went walking around the lake. He must have sensed that something was bothering me. I was distraught. Upset. On the verge of tears. Plus, well, I was extremely confused as to whether I should keep the will or not. When I explained the mess (well, part of it. I kept the Potter bit out), he gave me this goofy sort of smile. And you know what he did? He kissed me.

I, Lily Evans, have been kissed. And no, it was no by my cat. Or a blind person.

And you know what? It was incredible. Filled with as much cliché as any girl should hope for. Thank you Merlin for the air I breathe, the ground I walk on, and the experienced lips I now adorn.

I never even knew Remus Lupin thought of me that way. James Potter who? Yes, that’s right, Potter no longer bothers me. I’ve had something happen to me that was good. A surprising, but pleasant change for once.

Wait until I tell Holly about this. Oh, she will be so jealous.

The snog queen herself,
Lily Evans

Chapter 9: Grinning Prats
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Chapter 9-Grinning Prats

Lily Evans, scarlet woman extraordinaire. I am young, gorgeous (alright, I won’t get carried away here. A girl can dream though), carefree (again, an exaggeration), and awaiting another excellent snog from a Mr. Remus Lupin. Yet, for some reason, he hasn’t really shown any inclination to lead me into a romantic, secluded broom closet.

Boys, odd creatures if you ask me. I mean, how do you just kiss a girl one day and not the next? Kissing is an addiction that merely needs to be fed every couple of hours. It’s been a week and well, he still hasn’t carried me away for a proper make-out fest.

Good gosh, I sound like Black, the womanator himself. He’s obsessed with snogging and that, my friend, is not an exaggeration. I always pitied him for that incurable disease he seemed to develop, but now I’m suffering from the love bug as well.

I mean, before he kissed me, I guess I never really looked at Remus any differently than any other male at this school. He wasn’t ugly, by any means, but I was never really attracted to him. Yet, he’s shown me the light. I’ve been having to occupy my time waiting for him in odd ways.

Conventional Activities Used To Avoid Desperation Blame Lupin

1) Knitting--I’ve developed quite a knack if I do say so myself. Yarn isn’t hard to come by these days and it’s extremely practical. I made Jules a lovely sweater, but well, she tore it to shreds. Had myself a good cry over that.

2) Gymnastics--Yes, I’m sure I do look fairly odd attempting to do a cartwheel down on the grounds, but see what boys do to your brain? I know for a fact that I’m a lousy athlete and am not flexible in the least. But, I still go out and try. If I had any sense at all, I would stick to the knitting.

3) Quidditch--I tried flying and well, the end result was not darling. I fell on my head. Madam Pomfrey nearly slapped me across the face. She said, in her exact words,
You of all people should know not to fly’. What she really meant to say was, ‘Merlin, Evans, why do you have to be so bloody uncoordinated?’ She was a bit peeved that I interrupted her daily soap opera.

4) Straightening My Hair--Didn’t work. At all. But I did manage to receive a large burn on my neck, which in turn led people to start hickey rumors about me and Snape. Apparently, we like it rough.

However, as much as I try, it all leads back to me wanting a boyfriend. A snog. A friend. Someone to complain to. I want someone who will find pleasure in my small idiosyncrasies, my irritating quirks. Is that so much to ask?

In detention with Potter and Snape. Lovely company, let me tell you. Potter keeps trying to read this diary. I think he might have seen some of what I wrote before. It’s a bit odd, him seeing my personal thoughts. I hardly imagine anyone would even understand what I was rambling about if they did read it. Now that I think about it, I’m a bit whiney. Oh, that bastard. He’s smirking a bit. Why is he smirking? What should he be happy about? Maybe he’s got gas.

After detention, Potter and me headed back to the Gryffindor Tower and he was still grinning like a madman. It was irritating and a bit creepy. I mean, he was just smiling. Smiling for no apparent reason.

Finally, after a few minutes of silence and incessant grinning, I asked him in my most irritated tone, “What?!”

He just chuckled a bit, putting his hands into the pockets of his robes. What a skinny jackass. Yes, that’s what I said. I’m Lily and this is my diary. I can swear my blasted head off if I want.

“I saw what you wrote,” he told me coyly.


I could feel my face literally heating up, not really in anger, but in embarrassment. This diary is a place for my thoughts and my thoughts alone. It’s not meant for prying eyes. I write some fairly demented stuff, if you ask me.

Plus, this was Remus Lupin we’re talking about. Remus Lupin, as in Potter’s best friend.

“And what did you think about it?” I inquired, somewhat curious and a bit afraid of why he was reacting so shockingly.

“Well, I’m just kind of glad that you’re lightening up,” he confessed. “And well, I know Sirius told you about--well, me liking you.”

With a wink, he strode off, and if mine eyes did not deceive me, skipping in the air a bit.

And then it hit me. He thought I liked him. He thought I actually was interested in him. I must say, I’ve never had a better laugh in my life. Me and Potter? Least compatible people in the entire world. Plus, his head is heavier than Hagrid.

Finally, with so much on my mind and so many confusions, I dragged Remus Lupin out onto the grounds for a walk. He didn’t seem all too surprised or irritated about it at all. He merely walked with me, as a friend would.

“So, what’s this all about, Lily?” he inquired quietly.

Boys are so dumb. Do you they honestly go around serial snogging? If they do, let me say that’s sick and I’m a bit worried about mono.

“Remus, why did you do--what you did--last week?” I asked him, not really wanting to spell it out, although I seem to have no problem writing it all down here.

“You mean when I kissed you?” he responded casually.

No, when you walked around in your underwear and dove into the lake screaming, “Beard of Merlin!” Of course when you kissed me, you blasted fool.

Instead of that simply oh-so-witty remark, I merely nodded. Didn’t want to scare the poor fool off, now did I? I wanted some answers!

“Well, you seemed sad,” he told me. “And I thought that maybe I could cheer you up. You’re a good friend, Lily, and you don’t deserve to be treated unfairly. It just seemed like a good moment.”

If that was the answer I was expecting, well I must not have shown it.

“Did you think I had a ‘thing’ for you?” he asked politely. Again, I nodded in embarrassment. “Sorry, Lily, but well, you’re just a friend and I don’t really feel that way about you. I’m sure that somewhere out there, a boy’s just dying to go out with you. Don’t give up all your hope on me.”

Of course he was probably talking about Potter.

“Don’t mention this to James,” he told me, knowing that if he asked, I’d keep any secret he had. I think I liked the fact that only he and I would know who my first kiss was. “He probably wouldn’t understand.”

“As if I talk to Potter about anything more than necessary,” I insisted bitterly, his wicked smile still flashing in and out of my mind.

My red hair was flowing in the breeze, becoming more frizzy than ever before. I sighed. Honestly, what was the point of all that hair anyways? Why couldn’t I have been born bald? Then, maybe perhaps I wouldn’t boy problems or hair problems.

“Yes, I know, he can be a bit of a prat,” Remus said, laughing and scratching his head warily.

“Then why’re you friends with him?” I asked, probably a bit more nosily than I had intended. Could he really blame me for wondering? Potter is seemingly the least likeable person in the entire school and well, he was popular. It was ironic, really.

“Because,” he told me. “He’s the only person who has truly shown me loyalty.”

Gah! Remus Lupin and his vague, mysterious answers. He didn’t elaborate at all. Can you believe that? Leaving me hanging. Psh, lunatic. My snogs must have sent him out of his mind. What a great thing to know. ‘Lily, you kiss so horrible, boys would rather lose all mentality whatsoever if it meant forgetting’

I want my Mummy.

Well, after telling Holly all about the James Potter and Remus Lupin situation (which she found extremely fascinating), she gave me the best advice she can.

“Move on.”

Thanks so much, Miss I-Think-All-Gryffindor-Boys-Are-Charming.

But, surprisingly, I’ve decided to act somewhat along those lines. I’m going to make people think I’ve moved on. Maybe, eventually, the boy I choose could become Mr. Right. But who to pick? Who to pick?

Well, let me start with who NOT to pick.

Not It

James Potter---Prat and a half.
Sirius Black--A walking disease.
Severus Snape--Lord of the Hiss (still a bit confused about that)
Jules--She’s my cat. Inappropriate on several levels.
Remus Lupin--Platonic, sadly.
Hagrid--Illegal and just WRONG.
Rabastan Lestrange--Avada Kedavra doesn’t make me swoon.

Who’s Left?

Peter Pettigrew--Hasn’t ever given me a problem. Not really a believable choice, seeing as he has this sort of twitch that bothers me.
Amos Diggory--Holly would absolutely kill me. She’s been in love with him since second year.
Frank Longbottom--Hm, I don’t think I even know him.
Logan Johnson--Perfect. We have a winner.

So, now if I’m going to be obsessed with this boy, I’ve got to write about him day and night. Please forgive me if I start incessantly babbling on about Logan’s socks or something. It probably means I’m in the public eye.

Oh, damn, he’s leaving the common room. I better go follow him. Be stealth, Lily, stealth.

New to the stalker scene,

Lily Evans

A/N: Please review.

Chapter 10: Mrs. Logan Johnson
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Chapter 10-Mrs. Logan Johnson

It’s official. I am now believed to be deeply infatuated with Logan Johnson. I’ve mentioned it lightly to Holly over the past week or so and I’ve upped it a notch as of late. I must say, I’m a stealth little thing. I seem to have a knack for this sort of business.

It’s almost as if I’m pranking the entire student body. Someday, when we’re all gathering at some class reunion and all of the flamboyant airheads are gathered near the bathroom, the arrogant prats by the bar, and the most-likely-Death-Eaters-by-this-point-in-time crowd are sending evil glares to nearly everyone in the room, I’m going to announce it to them all. I’m going to shatter their pride. I’m going to put a huge dent in any ideas they were given during this year of school.

“I never liked Logan Johnson. You were all just too gullible and stupid to believe otherwise. Ha. And let me say it again, ha!”

It’ll be beautiful. Absolutely delightful. Lily, the almighty master of spite.

Anyways, since I’ve sort of embraced the stalker in me, I’ve learned quite a bit about Logan Johnson, who I virtually knew nothing about before taking on this wondrous task. When I say nothing, I mean nothing. I knew his name and well, his house, but that’s about it. I’ve never spoken one word to him throughout my entire four years. Yes, I’ve learned loads…

Logan Johnson
My Beloved

-Logan is in every single one of my classes. Honestly can’t say I knew that before I started giving him a bit of extra attention. He’s even in Arithmancy with me. I didn’t even know any fourth year Gryffindors besides myself took Arithmancy. Well, now I know.

-Logan’s best friends are Frank Longbottom and Amos Diggory. Alas, I’ve been on friendly terms with both Frank and Amos for several years and I can’t say I knew that they were friends with Logan, let alone best friends.

-He’s the Keeper for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Ah, yes, I feel kind of bad I didn’t know this. Whenever I referred to the Keeper, I sort of just pointed at him, opposed to figuring out his namesake.

-Apparently, he asks me to pass the pumpkin pasties during every meal. Normally, Holly has to pass them, but when I finally did pass them to him last night at dinner, both Holly and he went into states of complete shock. I’m hard of hearing, I tell you. It’s completely understandable that I hadn’t heard him during previous meals.

-He’s allergic to cats. Last week, in the common room, I asked him to watch Jules for a bit while I ran up to get a book. When I came back, he was covered in hives and begging me to take my cat back. Yes, I can see that this could be problematic…

I can tell already that he’s growing suspicious of my newfound appreciation for him and his well-bring. I dragged him to the nurse’s office, making sure that Bertha Jorkins and Rita Skeeter, two of the biggest gossips in the entire school, saw us.

Word does travel fast. And you know what? I’m starting to like the fact that nearly everyone at Hogwarts is nosy. I really am. The Snape rumors have officially stopped. I hereby declare this month, ‘Lily Evans Appreciation Month’. This institution could have done me no bigger favor than that.

I’m not entirely sure if Holly believes me about Logan though. She’s been eyeing me funny these past couple of weeks. She just doesn’t see me as the ‘crush’ type, I suppose. I’m a very convincing actress, if truth be told.

Well, right now I’m sitting in detention and I’m completely bored out of my skull. I’ve been doodling in you, you poor diary, for the last forty minutes. An entire two pages, two good and useful pages, might I add, have been wasted on scribbling Logan Johnson. See? I really am devoted to making those stupid prats pay. I am so slick that I’m even convincing unconsciously.

I did notice Potter glancing over a few times. He seems a bit disgruntled for some odd reason. Couldn’t possibly be because the berk likes me, could it? This’ll teach him for being stupid. Why the hell would he choose to like me? We loathe each other. He’s been nothing but mean to me for four entire years. And now, I’m going to give him a reality check. He needs to realize it’s never going to happen.

Wow, I really am wicked. And I’m completely loving it. Now, tell me this isn’t a GREAT touch; Mrs. Lily Johnson, Mrs. Logan Johnson, Auror Johnson, Lily Johnson.

I’m bloody brilliant. Now, I must explain something to you, diary. If I start babbling incessantly about how adorable Logan’s ears are or something equally revolting, you must forgive me. It most likely means prying eyes are gazing onto your pages. Potter’s really nosy, I tell you. Too nosy, if you catch my drift.

All of those Marauders are a bit too ‘involved’ with everyone in this school. I mean, people like Bertha Jorkins gained their reputations early on. Yet, Potter’s gang just never seemed the type. That is, until this year. I’m suspecting that perhaps, just maybe, James Potter is stalking me.

Oh, Lord, he just looked over! Damn, damn, damn. I think he saw that. His neck’s turned red. He did see that.


Ah, revenge is sweet. I just hope that was enough to throw him off of what I wrote before that. Probably not. Potter’s far too annoying and incessant to forget what I want him to.

Maybe if I sit here and concentrate real hard.

Forget, Potter. Forget, forget. What you just read was complete rubbish. I indeed don’t notice that you have your friends trail me like leeches. Don’t notice at all. Honestly. I think about you as little as possible. Even when you annoy me. Forget, you bloody ignoramus.


Wow, I’m sickening myself. I really am. I feel like I’m going to vomit a little. Perhaps that’s because Potter read that I think he’s stalking me. Ah, well, maybe he was just blushing because Snape accidentally brushed legs with him.

Please, Merlin, please! Let that be it! As disturbing as that image is, please let that be the reason!

Great, time to go. I absolutely hate walking back to the tower with him. My little legs can only carry me so fast though. I hate being short. Damn my mother for passing along the recessive genes!

Right now, I’m sitting in Transfiguration and have managed to sneakily (so stealth, baby) place you on my lap so that I may record all that happened last night. It was bizarre, let me tell you. This coming from a girl who owns a one-eyed cat. When I say bizarre, I mean bizarre.

So, as fast as my little legs could take me, I walked down the hall, James Potter following closely after me. Of course, seeing as he’s at least three inches taller, he caught up.

He had this odd expression on his face, somewhat put out. It was as if someone had stolen his broom. And a broom to Potter is like magic to Dumbledore. Can’t live without it.

“’Lo, Evans,” he said, almost miserably. And shockingly, I sort of felt sorry for him. Don’t ask me why. I hate the boy with every fiber in my entire body.

“Potter,” I replied politely. He eyed my diary, which has now been covered with Logan’s name. I swear it, when I get the chance, I’ll have you re-covered diary. For now though, you must endure this horrible torture.

“Been hearing lots of news about you lately,” he mentioned casually, his hands settling comfortably in his pockets.

“Suppose you have,” I retorted, laughing so hard on the inside. I know, I’m vicious.

“And also, surprisingly, Logan Johnson’s name has been one of the hot topics of this month,” he informed me.

“Spending time snogging Skeeter, have you, Potter?” I asked him sarcastically.

He swore under his breath. I only caught small parts such as, “Cow” and “Over my dead, decapitated body.”

“It’s just a strange thing, you know,” he told me. “I mean, Johnson’s never really been a conversation starter. I should know. We’re on the same Quidditch team. I don’t have a thing against the guy.”

“And I care, because…?” I asked, even though I knew why he was mentioning this. He was jealous. Don’t ask me why. As said, I don’t know what makes sense in Potter’s mind.

“From what I can see, you’re madly in love with the bloke,” he told me. “I would think you’d care.”

“Madly in love? That’s carrying it a bit far,” I insisted, smiling slightly at my own ploy.

“Whatever you say, Evans. It’s just curious, is all,” he told me, turning a bit too soon down a forking hallway. He must have been off to cause some sort of discomfort upon the school. “Seeing as you haven’t said a word to him before last month.”

And that’s where he left our conversation. It was hanging midair and he just left it. He’s an odd one, I tell you. Odd. At this point, I’m not too sure about what he’s feeling. Is he jealous? Or unconvinced? A bit of both?

“Lily, your so-called love interest is leaving,” Holly announced, interrupting my thoughts abruptly.

Great. Now I’m going to have to stampede the halls.

Off to swoon my test subject,

Lily Evans

A/N: Please review.

Chapter 11: It All Falls Down
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Chapter 11-It All Falls Down

Operation Logan Johnson has been aborted, diary. I know what you’re thinking, ‘Why, Lily, why?’ It was such a brilliant plan. I was going to gain my revenge, my spite, my vindication upon all those who had tortured me through this boy. I was going to prove myself to the school of Hogwarts. I am Lily Evans; don’t mess with me. That idea’s up in flames. Burning, decaying, molding into ash.

I suppose you’re wondering what happened. The curiosity is bubbling up inside of you at this very moment. How could Logan Johnson let me down? He was such a wonderful boy. Pft, wonderful. Duller than a box of rocks, that boy. Yet, I will give him credit for his perceptiveness. I’ve always seemed to be lacking in that department, or so Holly informs me.

Ready to know how my elaborate plan crumbled? Are you really ready to know? I can’t say it really surprises me.

One name. One foul, inconsiderate, wretched name.

James Potter.

Yes, I know, it made me gasp dramatically as well.

Thanks to my great friends Bertha Jorkins and Rita Skeeter, the entire school was talking about Logan Johnson and I. Apparently, we’d already bought matching friendship rings, snogged in the library stacks, and chosen the names of our four (four? Do they think I’m some sort of machine?) children.

As much as it would normally pain me to say this, I was thrilled that everyone was buying into the rumors. That is, everyone but Holly and Potter. Both were watching me like hawks, their eyes burning into my head in a very disturbing manner.

Before my plan crumbled, my success was at it’s peak. The gossip mill was overflowing and well, I was fueling the fire as much as I could. I publicly tried knitting sweaters with Logan’s name stitched into the front. Although knitting is definitely not my forte, I must say, it was doing the trick splendidly.

The day to which I’m going to speak of is well, pivotal to my tale of disappointment. It shall live on in infamy forever. I’ve already scribbled the date vengefully all over the cover of you, diary, thus replacing Logan Johnson’s name. I must say, I like this a whole lot better.

Anyways, the day started off normally. I made sure to cleverly bump into Logan several times between classes. I’d been sincerely hoping that he was daft enough not to notice my reoccurring appearance in his life.

In Transfiguration, things started to go downhill. Holly and I started scribbling notes to one another, diary, and now, I shall try and recollect them for you.

Hol, are you paying attention?

Yes, aren’t you?

Um, no, not really. We all know Transfiguration isn’t my cup of tea.

Too busy staring at Johnson, are you?

Well, if you must know, yes. He is extremely fit, is he not?

Fit? Since when are you using such terminology?

Since I fell hard for Logan. Isn’t he breathtaking?

Hey, I’m a girl of my word. I told you, diary, that I would do whatever it takes to convince both Remus, Potter, and well, the world, that I wasn’t desperate, dependent, and/or depressed.

Well, you’ve really got me fooled.

Hm, well, I wasn’t really sure what that meant, but I’m pretty sure she was being sarcastic. So, at this point, Holly knew that my love for Logan was fraud. It was to be expected that she’d find out though. She is my best friend after all.

So, instead of lying to my friend and denying her accusation, after classes were through, I spilled the whole plan to her. I laughed, I cried, I even managed to make a sort of squeamish squeaking noise sometime in the middle of it all, but the point is, it was very emotional.

And do you want to know what Holly said after hearing such a bitter tale?

“Yes, yes, I knew the entire time, Lily.”

She knew the entire time? How could she have known the entire time? I thought I was stealth! I thought I was clever!

I stopped talking to her for an entire fifty three minutes. Let me tell you, it was hell. I had nothing to take my mind off of the situation. Normally, I would knit, but now that the whole ‘plot’ is out in the open, what would the point be in knitting a sweater for Logan Johnson? I tried knitting a sweater for Jules, but predictably, she tore it to shreds. Lousy cat.

I haven’t even gotten to the worst part of my story yet, either. I mean, I knew Holly wasn’t going to tell the whole school I was just pretending to like Logan. I think she understood why I was doing so, but I don’t think she approved.

No, the worst part about it was my little confrontation with Logan Johnson. There I was, sitting in the Common Room with an extremely fascinating book in front of me. I was absorbed, completely and entirely. Alright, so I’ve had a thing for romance novels lately. Shoot me.

Rebecca and Frederick were kissing passionately, while Rebecca’s fiancée gazed on angrily. It was so heart-wrenching. Her fiancée was helpless, unable to do a thing. I was just waiting for him to say something.

And what do you know it, just at the good part, Logan Johnson taps me on the shoulder and asks me for a word.

Excuse me?

Naturally, I followed him, mainly because nearly everyone in the Common Room was watching us. As he led me out into the hall, I felt someone's gaze penetrating sharply into my back. Of course, I didn’t even have to look to know. James Potter. Surprisingly, he was smirking in a sort of satisfied manner. I didn’t really think anything of it at first, but now I know and well, I could have smacked him.

It was really odd to actually hear Logan speak since I can’t say I’ve held a conversation with him. He seemed a bit scared of me, which was also something new. I hadn’t really instilled fear into anyone. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel good.

“Um, Lily, I’d really appreciate it if you’d stop telling people I was your boyfriend,” he told me, blunt as anything. What if I really had liked him? What if it wasn’t a game? He would have been breaking my already damaged heart. But, I didn’t like him and it was a game so really, I found it quite entertaining.

“Me? You? Relationship?”

It was sort of a rhetorical question that wasn’t really meant to be answered. I’d hoped to confuse him, but I guess he was smarter than I gave him credit for.

“That’s what people have been saying,” he told me. “And I really don’t know where it’s coming from. Some of the things I’ve been hearing though are starting to creep me out.”

“Like what?” I inquired innocently, knowing all too well that I had spread some very false rumors.

“For one, you sleep with two pairs of my socks,” he told me, an expression that clearly read disgust adorning his face.

“Well, Logan, I don’t sleep with any of your socks, nor do I sleep with anything pertaining to you whatsoever. I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Lily, everyday you walk up behind me and smell my robes,” Logan pointed out.

“Oh, you noticed that?”

“Well, yeah I did. It’s kind of hard not to,” he explained. The two of us remained silent for quite some time before he elaborated a bit more. “Do you want to know what James Potter told me?”

This caught my attention. What the hell did Potter have to say to Johnson anyways? They’re on the same Quidditch team, so what? Me and Sirius Black are in the same house and I make a point of not talking to him as often as possible.

“He told me that only last month you were referring to me as ‘The Keeper’ because you didn’t even know my name,” he told me.

If it hadn’t of been true, I’d have probably gotten extremely offended.

“Well, Logan, keep doing a spiffing job on the pitch!” I mumbled quickly as I ran back into the Common Room and into my dorm.

James Potter ruined everything! He ruined all my plans. I could kick him in the neck right about now.

Now that the school no longer can gossip about me and Logan, they’ve moved onto bigger and better things. Or should I say, moved back.

Now that me and Logan have split, I’ve apparently gone back to Snape for a reconciliation.

I’m going to go rip every single hair out of my head! Bye now!

Lily, the disgruntled.

A/N: Please review.

Chapter 12: If Slughorn Were My Grandfather
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Chapter 12-If Slughorn Were My Grandfather

I have come to realize that, well, I’m officially over this entire boy business. I’m only fourteen. It’s never too soon to give up boys. So, as of now, my mantra is this; boys have cooties. At least, I hope they do. It would explain a lot about them.

I’ve been going a week without saying a single word to any of them (Potter, Lupin, Black, Johnson, Snape, even sweet ol’ Frank Longbottom) and I feel so much better already. It’s amazing to think about it. I never realized what a huge part the male species plays in my life each and every day.

Holly has been quite sympathetic about all of this, I tell you. In the past week, I’ve heard a variation of all of the following,

“How is this going to do you any good?”

“Lily, would you have Peter pass the potatoes?”

“This plan is swell, Lil. And by swell, I mean absolutely bonkers.”

“This little charade of yours is going a bit far if you ask me. Diggory’s hand set fire in Potions and you didn’t do a thing to help him!”

Thanks for holding back, Hol. Sheesh, you’d think I was some sort of madwoman the way she talks to me. Last night, I had this really strange, demented dream, which only adds to the problem. It involved Holly, a straight jacket, and Sirius Black manically laughing. Maybe I am mad.

Ha, no.


Right now, I’m sitting in Potions and let me tell you, the atmosphere has never been more nauseating. Although Amos Diggory is still absolutely peeved at me for catching flame to his hand (honestly, what a girl), he’s still merciful he has me, Potions master extraordinaire, for a partner.

Professor Slughorn, jolly good man that he is, has taken to inflating my ego as much as he possibly can. Although I sort of feel bad about enjoying it, I can’t help but notice I have a semi-permanent grin plastered to my face.

I’ve always enjoyed this class particularly because, well, it’s something that comes naturally to me. It’s no Charms, but I enjoy it nonetheless. It’s good to know I’ve got one thing in my life under control.

A little sea grass here, a little boomslang there, and voila! I’ve suddenly become worthy of recognition. I’m beginning to believe that Holly’s gotten a bit sick of this class. She’s been stuck with Severus Snape, which has only added to the rumor mill. I don’t know what she’s sulking on about. Snape, despite his social retardation and insistent hissing problem, is a very capable Potion maker.

He’s developed a bit of a grudge against me, I do believe. Not that I care really, but that snarky birk seems to be carrying out some sort of sabotage against me. Why me, really? I thought we were star-crossed lovers (tragedy plus time is the equivalent of comedy, they do say).

Now, let me inform you, diary, of how exactly I came about this somewhat disturbing revelation.

Reasoning Behind My So-Called Paranoia

The Sabotage Evans Plan

1) The hissing-- It must mean something. I daresay people don’t go around hissing at other people, particularly me, for no good reason. I’m beginning to think he’s hoping it will serve as some sort of distraction. Well, I have news for him. I am Lily Evans and well, I was a born Potion brewer.

2) The comments-- Yes, words, actual words, have been escaping that scoundrel’s mouth. Alright, so it was only one comment, but it was full of implication. “So, Evans, do you bathe in pineapple perfume or does Slughorn just like muggle?” How rude was that?! I mean, insinuating that Slughorn favors me for more than my overachievement?

3) His target-- Since when has Snape started hating me more than the Marauders? Since when, I dare ask? That lot is immensely more deserving of such sabotage. Not that they need it, really. The four of them happen to all be failing Potions. To Sirius Black’s dismay, Slughorn doesn’t take bribes. At least not from a Gryffindor. Lucky for me, I don’t need to bribe him.

4) Those eyes-- Holly thinks I’m just out of my tree, but really, he has this omniscient, conniving look about him. It’s as if he’s going to strike at any moment, waiting for my back to be turned or my vulnerability to be exposed. I’ve taken to letting Jules sleep near my face--which, might I add, is an extreme safety hazard--just for defensive purposes.

So what if Slughorn likes me better? It’s based entirely on my skills, my intelligence, and my eagerness to learn. When I told Holly this, all I received was an incomprehensible snort. Wasn’t attractive in the least. And she claims to have a crush on Diggory. Psh, if she did, she wouldn’t be risking him hearing her pig noises.

“Lily, you don’t honestly believe that Slughorn only likes you for your Potion making?” she asked me, laughing her stupid little head off about the entire predicament.

“Enlighten me,” I told her, becoming extremely annoyed and hot-faced, never a good combination. “Fumigate me with your wisdom.”

“Well, as an example, let me remind you of what our professor said after you set Diggory’s hand on fire,” she said, her grin resembling that of the balmy cat from Alice and Wonderland. I still have nightmares about that movie and she knows it. “I believe his exact wording was, ‘Lily’s so cheeky. Five points to Gryffindor!’. If we weren’t all underage, he’d have broken out the mead.”

Blast her and her ridiculous insinuations. I much prefer being paranoid about Severus Snape, who I believe bites the heads off of chickens, than Horace Slughorn, who I would love to be my grandfather. And to prove this point to Holly, I believe I’ll let Amos take the wheel on our Potion and I’ll write this lovely editorial discussing exactly why Slughorn deserves more appreciation. Who knows, it might make a wonderful Christmas gift someday.

If Slughorn Were My Grandfather

Written by Lily Evans, the Potions whiz

If Horace Slughorn were my grandfather, the world would make a bit more sense. I can just envision Slughorn taking me and Petunia upon his knee, a big, fat cigar in his mouth, and a walking staff resting in the palm of his hand. We would listen to his crazy, adventurous tales regarding his days as a soldier in the war, the reasoning behind his bum knee, and the many loves of his life.

He would recall his days as a boy, buying soup for his sick mum and helping his brothers and sisters take care of her. He would share his dislike for afghans, coffee, and bad wine.

He would watch golf on the muggle tube and complain about the troublesome youth in the world.

“Lily, that sounds a lot like your own grandfather,” Holly said abruptly, causing me to send a nasty, perturbed look her way.

So, she’s a bit right. It does sound like my grandfather. A girl can dream though, right?


The best thing about being best friends with someone like Holly Spinnet is the fact that we’re not afraid to be honest with one another. She calls me a mad shell, I call her a blazing witchdoctor and yet, we manage to tolerate one another for more than five minutes. I guess that’s friendship for you.

For instance, just now I reminded Holly of that very unattractive snort she let loose in front of Diggory and she called me neurotic. That didn’t bother me at all either. You see, if Potter had called me neurotic, he’d be recuperating from a shattered spinal cord or something equally as gruesome. But, since Holly is my friend, I see neurotic as a term of endearment. Basically, the moral of this story is that, well, friendship is demented. James Potter and Sirius Black, two of the most insufferable human beings to walk the Earth, seem to have a friendship that resembles that of Holly and mine. Not that I’d ever point that out to Potter, especially since I’ve taken an oath to never speak to another boy again.

I feel so grounded, so focused. I am proud of my cause, my ability to restrain from socialization with anything of the male species. I’ve banned Jules as well. She can no longer go and frisk Filch in the middle of the night. It’s for her own good, I must say.

Ah, well, have to go and argue with Holly a bit more regarding my ‘Stand Strong’ plan.

Toodles, Lily

P.S. Yes, I said toodles.

Chapter 13: The Turtleneck
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Chapter 13-The Turtleneck

Why is it that all the supposedly good plans I come up with manage to shatter within the time span of about a month? I mean, just for once I’d love to revel upon how good fortuned I am, what with my quick wit and abnormally large brain power. Am I not allowed to enjoy myself just once?

Obviously not. I mean, I have gone to bed the past twenty-nine days with my mantra constantly buzzing through my brain, “Boys are bad, boys are bad.” And now, it all means nothing. I mean, my mantra was as good as any. I suppose it could have used a bit of time and creativity, but I was absolutely sure it would prove to be simple, yet effective. Once more, I’ve been proven wrong.

And it all goes back to a simple set of Charms notes. Honestly, why did I have to be so blessed in the subject? Why does Flitwick have to pointedly thank the powers of fate for bringing me to him? Why, why, why? I just want to be normal.

Alright, fine, I guess normal is a slightly unreachable goal.

This all began at the end of a particularly masterful Charms class, in which I’d just mastered the art of the Banishing Charm. Honestly, it’d only taken me a total of three tries and I had it down. I could banish anything and everything I wanted. So, when Potter came over to me with his band of miscreants, I was dead set in simply banishing them away. I even had my wand out and everything!

I wasn’t about to let the Marauders ruin my perfectly good game plan. No boys meant no boys. Period.

Yet, that stupid Sirius Black just can’t keep his fat mouth shut for more than two seconds.

“Put that thing away before you knock someone’s eye out,” he instructed, taking my wand before I had the chance to properly defend myself. I must have looked like a blubbering fool, standing there, my eyes wide and fearful, my mouth agape and silent in a state of shock.

Remus must have noticed how confused I was, what with the sudden bombardment I was facing. “James, here, has something he needs to ask you.”

I briefly let my eyes stray from my wand, which Sirius was whipping about in an absolutely obscene manner. I never handled my wand so carelessly. It was making me very, very nervous. Perhaps that was what forced me to break my previous oath.

“What?” I asked him sharply, sounding much ruder than I had intended. Or maybe not. After all, he was most likely deliberately enjoying the torment I was facing. I mean, breaking my word and having my wand stolen by Sirius Black can be considered a tragedy to anyone.

“Um, well,” he began nervously, his eyes resting upon my shoes as my foot tapped impatiently. “Sirius, here, has a cold, as you may have noticed. He’s become awfully congested and has been blowing snot during any given opportunity. Stupid swine seems to be enjoying his illness.”

“I really am,” Black insisted, taking a moment to sneeze obnoxiously, his whole body wobbling as he did so.

James rolled his eyes and sighed as he waited for Sirius to finish. I was really becoming annoyed, despite the fact that I had a free period after Charms. “Obviously, the constant coughing, hacking, sniffling, and snot blowing can serve as a distraction, a gross one at that. Seeing as Sirius and I have always been the closest, Peter and Remus took it upon themselves to declare that I was in charge of providing tissues for him, as well as an optimistic ear for him to complain into. So, while I was doing that, I missed all the notes that we were forced to take on the Banishing Charm. I was wondering if, perhaps, you’d let me borrow yours?”

What was I supposed to say to that? “Oh, better luck next time, Potter?” I may be a bit wicked, but I’m not heartless. Black’s nose did look rather red and used tissue was flowing from his pockets. Potter was right; it was disgusting.

“Sure, fine,” I told him hurriedly, handing him my notes and just wishing to get away from Black’s germs. I really could not afford to be sick. Not right now, anyways.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Potter said, putting the notes carefully into his bag. Sirius rolled his eyes and clapped his friend on the back.

“One more and then Evans will fully understand the extent to which you’re grateful,” he told James, hurrying him along with a slight hand gesture.

“Thank you,” he said finally. “I’ll get them back to you as soon as I can!”

I hadn’t even thought of it when I’d loaned him the notes. Not only would I have to see the stupid delinquent in detention, but he’d also make a point of returning the notes on a different occasion. As the boys left, I smacked myself against the head in frustration. The red mark is still there as living proof of so. Holly thought I’d gotten in another hall brawl, which would have been dubbed, “Hall Brawl ‘75” due to the passing New Year.

I should have seen that this ‘borrowing of notes’ ordeal was just another excuse for interaction between the two of us. Why else would he have asked me when Peter, Sirius, and Remus all (most likely) had perfectly reasonable notes? And since when does he even take notes?

Sometimes, I, Lily Evans, am a complete idiot.

Holly seemed immensely overjoyed when I told her that the plan had been diminished, sadly enough. That girl honestly has no sympathy within her tiny little body. She could have at least pretended she was sad about it. But no, she was practically doing back flips over it.

She also doesn’t seem to consider my predicament melodramatic. I told her, I really have been trying to avoid boys entirely. It wasn’t just some crazy, whacked out scheme hatched to bring attention to myself. I just wanted to lead a quiet, simple life without needing to bring out the stealth-impaired part of me.

But now, I need to bring ol’ stealthy back out. Again, Holly seemed to bark into my ear that it wouldn’t work. But when have I ever listened to her?

I’m thinking, black glasses and dark turtlenecks? I mean, when have I ever worn a turtleneck? I have one, of course. I mean, my grandmother practically lives for turtlenecks. What would Lily rather have? A turtleneck or something she might actually enjoy? Turtleneck, it is. Apparently, the turtleneck is not only attractive, but slimming. My grandmother explained to me that I bring a whole new meaning to the term turtleneck. I’m sure that explains a lot about my upbringing and why I’ve turned out to be prone to insanity.

“Remind me again of why you’re breaking out the turtleneck?” Holly inquired, watching as I fumbled to fit my mess of red hair through the top of the ‘shirt’. Can it even be considered a shirt?

I didn’t even try answering, knowing it was extremely probable that my words would become muffled and Holly would spend hours pouring over exactly how she was supposed to decipher them.

So, to save time, I decided to just go along with my plan and leave her with Jules, a perfectly reasonable companion during my absence. Not that she even likes Jules, which I might add, I secretly resent her for.

I had to get those notes back. I just had to. So, I broke out my biggest, thickest book (Transfiguration, who could have guessed?) and hid myself away behind it, black glasses and turtle neck in tact. If Logan Johnson, who was seated across from me in an opposite arm chair, didn’t think I was crazy before, I’m sure he did after that.

I watched as all four Marauders strolled out of the Common Room, Black being set behind a bit due to the impetuous hacking he was ailed with.

So, despite the fact that Logan Johnson was clearly an occupant of the same dorm as the Marauders, I ran up the stairs leading to the boys dormitory. Yes, the antic probably did cause some rumors, as well as suspicions, but sometimes I become afflicted with desperation and it blinds my sense of reason.

Now, let me tell you how putrid and disgusting that dormitory is. I thought Holly was a slob. Trust me, she is anal in comparison to Peter Pettigrew and Sirius Black. I found a half empty jar of jam just lying innocently in the middle of the floor. What in the name of all that is sanitized is a jar of jam, half empty at that, doing in the middle of the floor? I didn’t even want to know how the jar came to be half empty. There were socks spewed…everywhere.

As horrified as I was, I knew I had come to the dorm on a mission. So, I walked as quickly over to James Potter’s bed (or so I assumed, what with untouched hair products) and began rummaging through his school things. I needed those notes back. I didn’t want to have another encounter with him. If I had those notes back, I could avoid talking to him for the rest of eternity. I mean, with such a pleasant thought as that serving as my motivation, it’s a wonder I had loaned the notes to him in the first place.

Yet, when I heard a slight cough come from the doorway, I froze. I had never felt more like a criminal than I did at that very moment. And the worst part about it was that the first thought that came to mind was, “God, I’m wearing a turtleneck. I’m going to be expelled in a turtleneck.”

I turned to see Logan Johnson, that stupid, boring bugger, standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. Honestly, doesn’t he have anything better to do? Maybe I could get Holly to date him and then, perhaps, he wouldn’t always be so nosy and intrusive. Hell, I wouldn’t place that burden upon her. His dullness is an annoyance to anyone. I swear, talking to a crumpet would be more interesting. No wonder I referred to him as ‘the Keeper’ for three years. Thinking about it, I didn’t refer to him at all before he even landed on the Quidditch team. That is how dull he is.

“Lily,” he said, his tone obviously full of judgement. As if he’d never gone through someone else’s things. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” I told him quickly, dropping the text book that had been in my hand.

“Listen,” he said, rolling his eyes a bit at the situation. What was he doing rolling his eyes like that at me for? If anyone should have been rolling their eyes, it should have damn well been me. “I know that you like me, but I thought I made everything clear last time we talked. I mean, I just don’t find you all that interesting, Lily. So, I think it’d be best if you just stopped stalking me.”

Excuse me? First of all, me? Boring? That ship had sailed, Johnson, and I believe it was you who was first mate. Secondly, how in the hell did he come up with the impression that I was stalking him? I mean, I was stalking him, but couldn’t he just get over that for one tiny minute? He flatters himself far too much.

“I’m not stalking you,” I told him, clearly, and I repeat, clearly annoyed.

“Then why’re you going through my backpack? And why are you uncomfortably close to my bed?” he asked, raising his eyebrows suspiciously.

I sighed. Of course I’d gone to the wrong bed. I obviously wasn’t meant to lead the life of a criminal. I couldn’t even steal from the right bloke.

“You mean, these hair products aren’t Potter’s?” I asked him, blabbering the first thing that came to mind.

“James? James doesn’t even use hair products,” Logan said, as if I was currently residing on the intellectually challenged rung of the social scale.

“Well, that much is obvious,” I grumbled under my breath before looking up at him and smiling. “Do you happen to know where Potter has my Charms notes?”

Logan scratched his head before answering thoughtfully, “Probably with him. I mean, his bag is missing.”

And I call myself observant. How had I not noticed that Potter had left with his blasted bag? This entire klepto act was a waste of perfectly adequate time.

“Thank you for your help, Johnson,” I said quickly. “Have a nice life!”

And with that, I ran out of the dormitory, through the Portrait Hole, and exited the Common Room. And all the while I was doing so, that damn turtleneck was itching.

Currently, at this present moment, I am residing in a broom closet. Don’t ask me how or why I climbed into this storage facility, but I did. I blame the turtleneck. It’s getting quite carried away with this stealth business.

And do you know who’s sitting on the ground outside of this broom closet? The Marauders, of course. You know what this means, don’t you? This means that I can’t leave this damn broom closet until they get their lazy arses off the dirty, scummy ground. I don’t know who in the world would prefer studying on the ground opposed to the library, but I never said the Marauders were in their right mind.

I could hardly call what they’re doing studying anyways. I mean, they’re chatting their bloody heads off about anything and everything known to man. Right now, I believe they’re talking about pranks. Boys are so predictable. And I really have to pee.

“We haven’t had a proper prank in so long,” Potter sighed, tapping his pen annoyingly against his text book. I knew it was him doing it as he does it frequently against the table in detention. Drives me out of my mind.

“Speak for yourself,” Black declared, his voice sounding distinctly raspy and stifled. “Only yesterday I was pranking that complete bubble, Aubrey. It was glorious, I tell you. There he was, just minding his own business when wham! Out of nowhere I came like a bat taking an evening fly out of hell! I was all, ‘Aubrey, you’ve got mustard on your robes’. Which, of course, he didn’t. I was just making it up, you see. The stupid git fell for it! You should have seen the shock in his eyes as, to his surprise, he found the exterior of his robes perfectly clean. There was no mustard! No stain at all! But he looked and now, I am officially a god.”

The way Black talked about himself, you’d think he’d been trapped alone in a room his entire life with no one to talk to but the wall.

“Sirius,” Remus commented, sort of whigged out by the sound of it. “That wasn’t a prank. Or at least not a good prank.”

“Yeah,” Sirius sighed. “I suppose you’re right. I guess it’s this damn cold that’s got my spirits down.”

“Sirius,” James said, angrily. From the way he said it, you’d think he’d have had to repeat it a million times. “How many times have I told you not to mention any illnesses you may develop? You know as well as anyone that Peter apparently ‘comes down’ with whatever illness others have.”

“Do not,” Peter protested, causing the others to snort in recollection of previous instances. “I don’t!” he insisted. “Sirius’ germs just spread rapidly. It’s not my fault if my immune system is weaker than others. I was born prematurely.”

“Peter,” Sirius began, hardly audible through Remus and James’ laughter. “Do I have to bring up the one instance in which you claimed to be menstruating because you heard Sally Weathers use that excuse during Quidditch?”

Boys have no shame whatsoever. I mean, how much more of their mindless banter could I take? I thought my head was going to explode. Luckily, I heard them stand up, someone bashing their head accidentally into the broom cupboard door. Probably Potter. Not that it matters, anyways. His big head is awfully durable, I’ll tell you. Size truly is everything.

Today I’ve not only endured over an hour of Marauder babble, but also, I’ve been wearing a turtleneck for even longer. And yet, I still haven’t gotten my notes back.

Plus, I’m itchy. My stupid grandmother probably laced the shirt with mothballs before she gave it to me.

Going to go slump my way back to the dorm.

Hopefully I’ll have those damn notes back tomorrow,


A/N: Hope you enjoyed! I, personally, liked that chapter. There will be a total of 15 chapters in this story, three sequels following. Please review! I'd love to hear what you all thought about Lily's adventure in the turtleneck.

Chapter 14: Slug Club Debacle
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Chapter 14 - Slug Club Debacle

Now, as the end of my fourth year at Hogwarts is approaching, only two things come to mind; exams and the notorious Slug Club. And, alas, I’ve been dreading them both. For a moment, I thought I’d escaped the latter, considering Slughorn hasn’t been in his normal, chipper mood. He still fancies seeing me, of course, but who wouldn’t? Good thing you can’t answer that.

I wouldn’t have had any inclination that Slughorn was throwing his annual end-of-the-year bash. Normally, when he’s about to orchestrate some sort of event involving myself, Severus Snape, loads of other prats, and plenty of alcoholic beverages (consumed by him and him alone, of course), you’ll notice a significant change in not only his appearance, but the atmosphere around him.

But this year, he caught me completely off guard.

There were no signs this year. There was no hint of the usual mustache twitching, the jelly belly laugh we’ve all become accustomed to. Nope, no warning at all. I suppose he was going for the element of surprise because immediately after I received my invitation, he sort of sprung out of nowhere and practically jumped on my back. To say the least, I’m scarred for life.

I’m not even sure if I want to attend this stupid party anyways. They’re always so bothersome. I mean, I have to dress up, I have to make nice with all the arrogant Fabios of the school, and then, worst of all, I have to deal with the endless taunting of the Marauders.

Yes, I scribbled down the word Marauders. That stupid word is bound to end with some sort of embarrassment, harassment, and/or annoyance. This case is surely no exception.

You see, out of four Marauders, none have been offered the chance to attend one of Slughorn’s parties. Sirius would probably be the most likely out of the four to even be considered, but he ruined his chances by smashing one of Slughorn’s pineapples against the wall back in first year. Poor bloke has received the cold shoulder ever since.

So, to shorten things up a bit, they’re jealous. Not only have I been invited, I’ve been greeted with open arms into every single one of Slughorn’s events. And, even worst, Snape gets invited every year as well. Puts a damper in their egos, to tell you the truth. And that is normally enough incentive for me to go.

So, I think I will.

Whoever’s idea it was for me to attend this stupid party was a complete moron, I tell you. All hell has broken loose in my dorm room and right now, Holly’s chasing me around with a spare Beater’s bat she picked up off of the ground. Honestly, it wasn’t until she did so that I started considering whether the shape of my head really did resemble a bludger. Thanks for the boost in self-esteem, Hol.

You see, this afternoon immense, immeasurable boredom struck and I thought to myself, “Why don’t I give Jules a bath? It’s only been three hours since her last and I certainly don’t want her to develop some sort of dandruff problem.” So, since she absolutely hates water, I had to crank the water temperature up really, really high in order for her to sit still. And even then, she wouldn’t let me properly bathe her.

Well, I was later enlightened into the fact that cats don’t need baths. They clean themselves. To which, yes, I scrunched up my nose and muttered, “Why on Earth would they do that?” Holly explained that it was in their nature. And all these years I’ve been forcing my precious darling into a tub of scalding hot water for nothing.

When it came time for me to take a shower, I was mid-shampoo and abruptly, the water just stopped. Well, it didn’t just stop. It made a brief, ear-shattering noise and then it abruptly shut off. Apparently, the house elves are rather mad at me due to the amount of hot water I’ve been using. I’ve slowed down their progress on tomorrow’s breakfast by using so much hot water and now, they’re penalizing me for my actions.

I won’t include the brief note, but I can say that those house elves sure do know how to use their profanities.

There I was, in my fluffy white robe, with shampoo just clustered randomly in my hair, and no water to wash it out. A few girls made empty threats towards Jules because I guess they were planning on using the shower later on tonight to get ready for their dates.

I, personally, don’t see the big deal in any of this. I mean, Sirius Black must shower six times a day and the house elves still don’t get mad at him. Those house elves are sexist, I tell you.

After much exasperation, a few tears, and several of our own profanities, me and Holly cooked up a great way to remove the shampoo. Magic! Yes, I know, rather obvious. But, we don’t work well under pressure.

So, now, I have curlers in my hair and my head is starting to itch and Holly’s chasing me around with a Beater’s bat because, I guess, I’m not supposed to be scratching at my head.

This night better damn well send the Marauders overboard if I’ve gone through so much personal sacrifice!

Wardrobe Plans
Constructed by Lily Evans
Commentary by Holly Spinnet

Option 001 -- I could go with a simple, but elegant black dress. It’s long, goes to my ankles, and was given to me by my demented grandmother.

This is going to be a party, not a funeral, Lily. Try again.

Option 002 -- I have this spunky chicken costume stored away in my trunk in case of emergencies. I could be the belle of the ball, you know, if I showed up in a chicken costume. People would be raving all night, “Cheeky Lily Evans, she can really pull off the feathers.”

I really don’t want to know what kind of emergency would require a chicken costume. And I doubt cheeky would be the word they’d be using to describe the person inside of the chicken costume.

Point well taken. Option 003 -- I have a rather fetching poncho I could wear. It’s colorful, comfortable, and classy. Alliteration is my friend, Hol. And since the poncho inhabits alliteration, it is thus coined my friend, as well.

Never, and I mean never, use the words poncho and classy in my presence again. Have I taught you nothing?

Pft, ponchos are classy. You just have horrible taste. Option 004 -- Nothing! I could go stark naked if I really wanted to, which I don’t. That’d be gross. It is an option though.


Option 005 -- A boring old summer dress with a boring old cardigan. Happy?

Lily, face it, you work boring well. The cardigan is calling you. Embrace it.

So, the night was not fun. Not fun in the least. I swear to god, if I decide to walk around with a bag over my head for the next three years of my life, you’ll know why.

So, I decided to go with the fifth option, embracing the boredom. As soon as I arrived, I could see that I’d gone with the right choice. I swear, I could already tell that I’d be going out of my mind.

I even made a nifty little list on my cocktail napkin that I shall cleverly insert into you, diary.

Things I Would Rather Be Doing

Because This Party Blows

001) Knitting -- We all know I’ve just grown into it. Actually, I’m still horrible and I always manage to mutilate my fingers, but it’d still be better than this party.

002) Running over hot coals -- I’m sure it’d hurt, but at least I wouldn’t be mistaken for a borderline narcoleptic.

003) Giving Jules a bath -- And we know how well that works out.

004) Duking it out with those blasted house elves -- I really would like to give them a piece of my mind. For the rest of the year, I’m going to be worrying about whether they’ve poisoned my food.

005) Talking to the wall -- Hey, I can actually do that here!

Even my mind had started to lull into a lethargic state. I couldn’t even come up with any clever things to do. I was beginning to contemplate whether I should actually spark conversation up with the wall or whether I should just dart over to the punch and hope someone had spiked it.

I went with the latter because I didn’t want to be remembered as a literal wallflower.

I really did have some interactions. Slughorn came up to me and introduced me to some snooty lad with excessive gray nose hair. I don’t know what the bloke did, what his name was, or anything he may have said because, well, I was too preoccupied looking at the appalling nose hair. I didn’t even know it could get that long.

Just as Slughorn was saying something or another to that nose-hair lad, I heard someone burst in through the entrance way and, of course, I knew the party wasn’t going to be boring any longer.

Sirius Black and James Potter, two of the pureblooded crowd’s finest, had emerged. Seeing as the party was mainly composed of Slytherin, you heard several hissing sounds coming from one, distinct area. I don’t know what it is with the hissing, but I guess they all do it.

“Slug!” Sirius cheered, a bottle of fire whiskey in his extremely underage hand. Why is it he gets to have all the fun? “Thought we’d just stroll in and give our salutations.”

Obviously, everyone was watching Black with a sense of curious astonishment. It took us all awhile to comprehend exactly what was going on. I mean, it wasn’t everyday that a Slug Club party got crashed. They were normally complete snooze fests, hence my comatose state.

It only took me seconds to realize exactly why Sirius was being so obnoxious; he was diverting attention from his oh-so-clever friend. Yep, one minute I was listening to Sirius Black apologize for the pineapple incident back in first year and the next I felt James Potter tapping me on my shoulder and grinning at me like a fool.

“Hello, Evans,” he said brightly. He didn’t appear to be drunk, unlike his good friend. I suppose Black took one for Team Potter. Of course, this plan was so transparent to me. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Potter, you knew I was going to be here,” I reminded him, my tone anything but polite. I was completely frosty and now, I’m not too sad about it. “I told you about it in detention.”

“Ah, yes, our last detention,” he recalled. We’d had our last detention the previous week and now, we no longer had to attend. McGonagall was under the distinct impression that we could all get along and play nicely now. I’d never considered that woman oblivious to anything, but honestly, Potter and Snape? Potter and myself? Snape and I? We all despised one another. Well, Potter doesn’t despise me, but the feeling is not mutual.

“About that,” he proceeded, leading into what I knew was bound to happen. “We won’t be seeing each other all that much anymore, I suppose, which shall make it harder for us to stay friends.”

“We’re not friends,” I told him quickly, making my way over to the punch bowl and downing a glass in annoyance. Why didn’t he just cut to the chase? Always had to skirt around everything. Potter had to be the biggest girl I’ve ever met aside from Logan Johnson.

“Oh, I know,” he assured me, following my rapid feet and leaning against the table awkwardly. He was fourteen. There is nothing suave about being fourteen. “I was just hoping that maybe you’d consider spending some time with me outside of detention? In Hogsmeade, perhaps. Over the summer, even.”


“I don’t think you understood,” Potter told me blatantly, panic rising in his eyes. It was rather enjoyable to see his pupils dilate. Did he really expect another answer? It’s not like I’ve been leading him on. “I was asking you out. To be my girlfriend.”

“I got that.”

“And your answer’s still no?” he asked in disbelief, his mouth hanging agape.


For a moment there, he stood in a state of shock. I really wasn’t too fond of watching the grieving process take place, so I quickly rushed off to the opposite side of the room.

James Potter is really brainless sometimes. I mean, I felt sort of bad about letting him down, but then I reminded myself that it was Potter. James Potter was a boy who’d made my life hell since the beginning of this year. I don’t know how it works with him and other girls, but I really don’t find anything remotely cute about him embarrassing me year-round.

And, here I was thinking the night couldn’t get any worst. I guess I tend to be brainless sometimes, as well. That was before James Potter decided to scream his bloody lungs out to the entire party. Stupid, stupid, stupid git.

“Let’s give a round of applause for couple of the year, Lily Evans and Severus Snape!”

The Snape material had honestly gotten old, I tell you. And that, diary, is where I justify the punch he received from me. And no, I’m not talking about the beverage either.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Oh, and since this question has been posed on other sites, Lily didn't know that cats don't need baths because she's rather oblivious. She needs to start paying attention to things more often, huh? Hope you enjoyed! Please review. The next chapter is the last chapter of the first installment of the four parts I have planned. Please review.

Chapter 15: Midnight Rendezvous
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Chapter 15 - Midnight Rendezvous

It has been exactly three weeks, four hours, and thirty two minutes since I punched James Potter and I am still reveling in my glory. Of course, my knuckles did hurt like mad for at least three days afterwards, but it was indeed worth it. The entire school was talking about James Potter’s mysterious black eye for the longest time. But, sadly, no one seemed to believe that it was me who caused the imperfection in their Quidditch champion.

Even those who were present and first-handedly witnessed the deflation of James Potter’s ego fail to recall exactly what happened. And that, my friend, is where the rumors begin. Oh, yes, over three weeks I have heard the most ludicrous stories. I mean, is it so hard to believe that I caused bodily harm to someone else?

Possible Explanations
Blunder of the Black Eye

001) Severus Snape -- Apparently, James Potter was getting fresh with Lily Evans and her steady boyfriend, Severus Snape, was sent over the edge in a manic rage of jealousy.

There is no way that Snape is a more likely possibility than myself. I sometimes question whether the boy eats, he is that gaunt. He brings new meaning to the term unhealthy. If for some reason, Snape and I happened to go and work out together, don’t ask me why, I guarantee you I could do more chin-ups than him. Actually, I’d rather like to put that theory to test just to shut up the babbling birks of our school.

002) Slughorn Is On The Verge Of Being Sacked -- Dumbledore and the Ministry were seriously considering whether to keep Professor Slughorn on the staff, considering the fact that when an unwelcome James Potter tailgated the party, the Potions Master lost his cool and repaid the fourth year with a blow to the face.

Do I need to reinstate the whole, ‘I Wish Slughorn Were My Grandfather’ bit? Because, really, Slughorn is the most harmless being to walk this pathetic, easily misled Earth. And, for one, Slughorn losing his temper wouldn’t really upset Dumbledore. It’d probably give him a good laugh. I know it’d make me chuckle. Quite a bit, actually. I’ll have to suggest it to him next year. He loves me, as you already know. Wouldn’t take much convincing.

003) Alcohol Intake -- James Potter got so sloshed he tripped and fell on his face, thus causing the disgusting war wound he carried around for an entire week.

Dear Merlin, James Potter sober is exceedingly annoying. Just imagine the prat drunk.

I hate Holly. She definitely just took a stab at my liberation. Although it’s been three weeks, she hasn’t had the will to discuss the events of Slughorn’s most recent party with the likes of me. Instead, she’s taken to allowing me to have extremely one-sided conversations with myself. Actually, normally I’m talking to her and she’s merely pretending to listen.

When I finally demanded that she give me her opinion, she retorted with a, “You should really look into anger management.”

Although this only caused me to get even more ticked off at her, she has a point. I have been displaying extremely violent behavior. But, really, I don’t need any professional to explain why. All this anger has been directed towards a single entity; James Potter. Before this year, I was an innocent, harmless girl with a slightly askew personality. Now, not only am I exceedingly quirky, I’m also a menace to society.

Think I’ll write mum about it. See if we can fit anger management into our expenses.

For the past eleven days, I’ve done nothing but divulge myself into my studies. And do you know why? I forgot about exams! I literally forgot about them. That is, until eleven days ago. I’ve been so preoccupied with my life that I’ve just let them slip my mind.

I don’t even know what test I took this morning. I’m pretty sure it was Charms, so I guess I shouldn’t be too worried. Or maybe it was Transfiguration. Well, I know it involved me using my wand.

Damn James Potter for being such a bloody imbecile. If he hadn’t been such a moron at Slughorn’s party, I wouldn’t have punched him. And if I hadn’t punched him, I wouldn’t be contemplating whether I’ll end up in Azkaban sometime down the road. But, now I don’t really have to worry about Azkaban. My fate’s been sealed. I’m destined to be expelled from Hogwarts. I’m going to end up living on the streets, alone and destitute. People’ll end up calling me ‘that old bag with the creepy one-eyed cat’. And I’ll constantly reek of cabbage because I’ll have to scrape through ol’ Mrs. Figg’s garbage.

I need to calm myself. Really, I do. For the past hour, I’ve been slumped over on my bed, in a state of numb shock. These exams are literally going to be the death of me. I won’t even live long enough to become a bum.

Thank God that today was the last one though. I don’t think I could handle repeating the process again tomorrow. But, the sad thing is, I’ll be wracking through my brain and wondering what exam it was that we took today for the next three months.

I’m completely wrecked today. Completely. And no, Jules wasn’t having nightmares again last night. It was worst. Much, much worst. Which means that it’d have to be the monstrosity of bad to be considered worst than my cat consistently scratching up my poor, innocent legs while she made loud, retching noises.

I suppose I should walk you through it. Bring the entire effect upon you. Because, trust me, diary, you won’t believe it even after I write it down. I’m having trouble comprehending it myself.

Last night, I was having a particularly difficult time getting to sleep. My mind was racing through the exams I’d taken, how I’d done on them, and answers I’d provided. And, well, I was still trying to recall what exam I’d taken that day. It was rather hazy and would not stop bothering me. Holly, who was still giving me the cold shoulder, refused to put me out of my misery. I don’t know what’s wrong with her. That girl is exactly the opposite of an open book. Holly “Closed Book” Spinnet should be her new title.

And so, naturally, I was the only person who saw a dark, tall figure approaching the main window to our dorm. And let me tell you, it scared the living blazes out of me. I couldn’t move. I was frozen. But, well, I did move. Eventually. It took the intruder quite some time to catch his balance. Plus, I found that Beater’s bat that Holly had been swinging at my head before the Slughorn party and well, thought it’d make for a useful way to defend myself. I wasn’t going to just sit there, helpless, although I’d thought about it.

And as the figure opened our window, I could literally hear my heart beating in my chest. I thought it was going to jump right out and clobber the guy. That’d be an interesting headline. ‘Intruder Taken Down By Pacing, Manic Heart’.

But, this wasn’t exactly a stereotypical break-in. The intruder wasn’t stealth in the least. Honestly, he wasn’t even wearing a turtleneck. It’s an unwritten rule that when performing some sort of illegal and/or frowned upon activity, one is required to wear a dark, slimming turtleneck. I remember thinking, “Obviously, this guy didn’t get the turtleneck memo.”

I’m not even lying when I tell you that the intruder literally fell through the window. I don’t know how, but he managed it. And I swear to you, there were limbs..everywhere. And immediately, I knew who it was. No one else was that lanky, that awkward around me. So, I dropped the Beater’s bat and sighed in exasperation, walking over to help the stupid git to his feet.

But, not before I heard Holly scream from her sleep, “Get the bloody hell out of here!”

Obviously, she wasn’t all too concerned about whether the intruder was ready to kill her in her sleep. She simply rolled over and continued snoring.

Once James Potter had regained his composure, he muttered under his breath while running a spare hand through his already messy hair, “Good lord, she snores worst than Sirius.”

Thankfully, Holly’s snoring was only the focus of James Potter’s attention for mere seconds because I distinctly heard someone scream, “James! Did you get through? Is Evans awake?”

Following James over to the open window, I spotted the three other Marauders huddled down on the ground, their wands out and panicked, curious looks about their normally relaxed faces. I didn’t even bother asking how James had gotten up to the dorms, but I’m assuming they levitated him up. If only I had gotten out of bed earlier. That would have made my year, seeing the Marauders levitate James Potter onto the window ledge.

“Padfoot, stop screaming,” he half-whispered, half-shouted down. “Let me talk to Evans, you blustering sausage.”

Obviously, Holly and I aren’t the only best friends who abuse one another with horrible pet names. Potter and Black seem to have an interesting relationship as well.

Before Potter attempted to shut the window, I distinctly remember hearing squeals of girlish laughter protrude from the ground below. Could have been my imagination, but really, I don’t think it was.

Slamming the window shut in infuriation, he practically woke up the entire dorm. And, of course, Holly proceeded to insert her extremely horrific commentary that would surely make any intruder back off, “Go jump off a broom, you lousy lard.”

I swear, she says the oddest things when she’s half-awake. If the determining factor between my life and my death resided in Holly’s ability to ward off a murderer, well, let’s just say I wouldn’t be too well off.

It was really, really odd having James Potter in my dorm room. I probably looked like a complete mess. I mean, if I’m a mess during the day, it’s nothing in comparison to how I look when I go to bed. And, of course, I decided to suddenly feel self-conscious. Stupid Potter and his abilities to make me feel uncomfortable.

He eyed the forgotten Beater’s bat at my feet and an amused grin crossed his face. “Were you going to hit me with that, Evans?”

Biting my lip, I shook my head. Of course, I was lying. But, I really didn’t know what to say to him. He’d just gotten over the last black eye I’d given him. Did I really need to tell him that I was planning on giving him another?

“Now, this might sound a little crazy, but has anyone ever suggested that you receive anger managemen-”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” I demanded, ignoring Holly’s protesting grunts voiced in the background. I knew she wouldn’t even remember what had happened in the morning. “You’re the one who broke into my dorm. If anyone should be suggesting therapy, it should be me. Now, why are you here, Potter?”

I could tell that he’d only been trying to avert the attention off of his more than unwelcome appearance in my dorm. I should have been sleeping. But, of course, James Potter was set to ruin everything from my social life down to my sleeping cycle.

“I just wanted to talk to you,” he told me, refusing to look me in the eye. He looked slightly intimidated by me, which is rather odd considering he’s a good five inches taller than me. But, then again, he’s also been the outlet of my frustrations all year. “And since tonight’s our last night at Hogwarts, I figured this was my only chance to. Alone, you know?”

“You’re not alone!” Holly called from her bed, raising a limp arm quickly, but letting it fall pathetically back onto the sheets and continuing to drool into her pillow. I thought I was a mess at night.

“What do you mean this is our last night at Hogwarts?” I inquired quickly, my hand going to my hip in concern.

“I mean that today was our last day of school,” he told me, laughing a bit at the fact that I obviously was too stupid to know such a thing. Or, at least, that’s the way it looked to me. “How could you not know that?”

“Potter, I don’t even know what exam we took this morning,” I confessed, my voice tired and irritated.

“Charms,” he told me, to which I responded with a celebratory fist in the air. “Now, please, can we talk? It’s rather important.”

Who was he to get antsy? Rather in a hurry to spit out whatever it was that he’d wanted to say. Although, I should have realized that it was important. He had gotten levitated up to my dorm and fallen through my window.

“And what more do we have to say to each other?” I asked him, sounding a bit more dramatic than I’d intended. So, the wounds weren't exactly healed. I personally hated him for starting the entire Snape rumor in the first place.

“Well, I don’t know what you have to say to me,” he told me. “But, I have a lot I have to say to you. And, well, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to say it all without sounding like a prat. And so, these words have been brewed over for three weeks, Lily. And, believe it or not, Peter was the one who had the best advice. He told me to just say what I felt. And normally, this is a problem. But, I guess I should just say it. I’m really sorry, Evans. About it all.”

That had caught me off guard. James Potter was genuinely apologizing to me? And, even worst, he’d had to spend three weeks figuring out how to say those measly two words?

I let the first thing I could think of slip out of my mouth, “Do something to make me hate you.”

I couldn’t just forgive him. Not after all he’d done, all he’d said. Not after this year of hell he’s put me through. The transition would just be too difficult.

“I could hiss if you’d like,” he offered, which actually caused me to snort a bit.

“Kicking my cat would suffice,” I insisted, knowing he very well wouldn’t. Not after all the bonding the two of them had done this year. Which still creeps me out, might I add.

“Can’t do. I’ve formed an unholy conspiracy against you with your one-eyed cat. Currently, she’s torn between sucking the breath out of you while you sleep or planting a rat in your bed. Personally, I recommended the latter because, let’s face it, I’m a lover, not a fighter.”

And, for once, we actually shared a moment of laughter with one another. I mean, there were no hard feelings between the two of us. I could actually tolerate being within three feet of James Potter. But, of course, it didn’t last.

“Listen, Evans, maybe we could do something over the summer? You know, like a date?” he asked hopefully, tugging on his ear nervously, but bringing his eyes to mine.

And, as expected, I let out an exasperated sigh. “Couldn’t just leave it alone, Potter?” I asked him, grabbing his arm and dragging him out of my dorm. I believe I heard Holly clapping. Girl’s odd, I tell you.

“Lily, wha-?” he asked me before I shut the door in his face. He didn’t even get it. I’d finally been willing to at least forgive him for being a prat and well, he goes and acts like one yet again. It’s like he’ll never learn.

And now, I’m dead tired because he spent the entire night knocking on my door. At least he’ll have a whole summer to mull over what he did wrong and maybe, just maybe, he’ll learn from his mistakes.

But, I’m not counting my chickens before they’ve hatched. I never do. Alright, I do, but at least now I’ve learned from my mistakes.

Until next year,