Chapter 1 : Lily
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chapter one: Lily
It's a cold night, I twist and I turn, but I can't get to sleep. It's two in the morning, and everyone's been asleep for ages, everyone but me, as usual. I look around, and find everything just as it ought to be; Dorcas Meadows was talking in her sleep, Marlene McKinnon was snoring loudly, Alice was drooling peacefully, and the two other girls were sound asleep.
The window caught my attention, it showed the invitingly lonely grounds outside, I bit my lip, deciding it couldn't do much harm; I went to take a closer look, there was a hint of breeze rustling the tree branches, the lake looked calm and peaceful, not a soul could be seen moving on the grounds, and the sky was clear so the stars were shinning extra brightly tonight, just the way I liked it.
"You shouldn't, it's against the rules!" Spoke my voice of Reason.
"Sod the rules! It's not like you haven't done it before!" I argued with myself.
"But you promised you wouldn't do it again! Don't you remember what happened when you got caught out in second year? The whole school hated you!"
"Don't over exaggerate; they were only mad for two days! Come on! You know you need the release, you need to relax, you'll never go to sleep, until you go, and you know it!
I gave an exasperated sigh, gave in, and got dressed. I was going to beat myself up for this latter, but for now, I better focus on getting it over with so I could sleep. I had potions tomorrow, and I'd need to be able to concentrate.
I cautiously descended the stairs and checked that the common room was empty. I stopped suddenly, I could have sworn I'd heard a creak of a floorboard in the far corner of the room; but it was probably my imagination, it tends to get out of hand late at night. "Who in their right mind was up right now?" I asked myself, slightly bemused.
Making my way through the castle, I craftily avoided random teachers, ghosts, and Filch. As Potter would put it, he and the Marauders had had a bad influence on me; if I hadn't been trying to catch them breaking the rules all these years (which I had on many occasions), I'd have never gotten to know Hogwarts so well, not that I'd ever admit it. I grinned slightly to myself, as I ducked into a secret passageway; which acted as a shortcut into the grounds.
Once outside, I took in a deep breath of the fresh and cool night air. The grounds are pitch black, my surroundings serene, and quite. I light my wand so that I can see; the black lake is invitingly calm tonight, the moon was nearly full, and the forest looked, as it always did to me, exceptionally creepy.
I look around, no lights up at the castle and not a soul out on the ground. A grin spreads on my face; I take off at a sudden run. I knew I looked ridiculous running around like this, it was why this is my favorite part of every night; I didn't have to care what anyone else thought, for now, I had no worries, self-doubts or regrets; for now I was free, and come tomorrow, I can be shackled again.
I tripped, and fell, as I ran; I rolled across the grass, laughing happily, until I finally came to a stop just before the lake. Had I tripped like this in the morning; I would have practically died of embracement, I would have blushed blood red, and I would have picked myself up, and would have sulked the entire day, if not the entire week.
But at night, when I was all alone, I didn't care. I could laugh, I could cry, I could do whatever the hell I liked, and not worry about what everyone else would think. I know I'm not supposed to, but I can't help it; I've tried and tried, but I just can't help paying attention to the whispers and rude remarks that seem to follow me around everywhere I go.
I don't like it when people talk about me. I know they do, thanks to Potter that is. I'd have much rather fade into the shadows, but Potter's never let me have that luxury. All I've ever wanted to do was to make a few friends, have a little fun, and get out of this school alive. But with Potter around, that's never been possible.
Potter pushes my buttons, and I can't help my temper. Especially when he picks on people, most of the time on Snape. He picks on him just because he doesn't fit in. Sure Snape's a world class git, but he's never done anything to him now has he? The rest of our class doesn’t do anything about it; most just stand there and laugh. Others, like Lupin for instance, know its wrong, but just bite their lip and look the other way. Nobody helps him, so I make it a point to help him whenever I can.
What Potter doesn't know is that a couple years back, I was Snape. Before I came to Hogwarts, before I knew where I fit in, before I had any friends, I was just as much of an outcast as Snape was. I talked big and I mouthed off just like Snape does. I still got picked on, I didn't have any real friends, and I had nobody to help me. Which is why, even though he insults me on a daily bases, I still help him, because I know what it's like. I know that hurt, and nobody disserves it, not even someone like Snape.
But Snape's only part of my ongoing war with Potter. It's true that without Snape Potter wouldn't get to drag me into the limelight so much, but Potter –Snape or no Snape- would always put me in awkward and extremely embarrassing positions. He'd ask me out at the top of his lungs in the middle of the school feast, he'd propose on a bended knee in the middle of a crowded hallway, he'd once even "confessed his undying love" to me in the middle of Hogsmade.
I wish I could understand what was going through his head when he does something like that! Is it because he knows it embarrasses me? Or is he just trying to impress me like my friends say? Well, whatever his intentions are they are irrelevant (Isn't the road to hell paved with good intentions?) because the second he puts me in one of those situations, my short fuse takes over, and I do something rash, which I regret latter and feel horrible about for weeks, months, and sometimes years!
Opposed to what everyone else thinks, I don't like being mean to anyone, Potter included. I don't like making mistakes, either. But, every time he's around I make them, I can't control myself, and the worst of it is, I can't hate him for making me mad at him! He embarrasses me, and he torments me, and he makes me want to pull my hair out, but I can't hate him!
I can't hate him because I've seen another side of him, (not that I'm going to be admitting that anytime soon), when he didn't know I was watching. I'd see him stand up for his friends, when they're not able to stand up for themselves (Namely in the case of Pettigrew), I've seen him be nice to people (with the exception of Snape), and I've seen him actually sitting still for more than a few minutes, thinking about something. But why isn't he like that when he knows I'm around? Why can't he be the nice guy everyone says he is?
He's cocky and arrogant, he has that ridiculous goofy grin, that messed up hair and he causes trouble at every turn, especially for me. It’s driving me crazy, because, to my own dismay, I like that Grin, and that messy hair, and sometimes, I think I like that he gets in trouble so much, it's a nice change from my "by the book" lifestyle. Whenever he's around logic and reason loose meaning, mainly because I'm to busy going ballistic to be sane, but sometimes, loosing control a bit is a good thing.
But, what I don't like about it is how he drags me out of my comfort zone, and puts me on display for the entire world to see, and then I can't control myself, at all; I shout, I scream, I curse, I hex, I stomp my feet, and yell at him until my voice goes hoarse, but he still won't stop, he won't stop making me crazy, he just won't.
I swore to myself, when McGonagall came and explained to me what I was, that when I got to go to Hogwarts, I'd be different; I'd work hard, I'd get good grades, I'd make some friends. I swore that I would be kind to everyone, like no one was kind to me, I wouldn't let anyone push me around, I wouldn't take anymore crap thrown at me, I wanted to be a better person, and for the most part I was, except when he was around.
He pushes me to my limits daily; he makes me so angry that my high principles, my morals, my nearly spotless reputation, and all that I pretended I was, falls apart. I wasn't the patient or nice Prefect, I wasn't the someone I wanted the first years to look up to, I wasn't the friend to all I wanted to be; I was friend to all (at least I hoped so) and enemy to James Potter.
I sighed and shifted my position; trust Potter to be a pain even when he wasn't there. I looked up and stared at the sky, and I immediately relaxed. It was why I snuck out to the grounds so much; it's amazing how insignificant a person's problems seem to be when they take a look at the night sky. It puts things into perspective, it calms my nerves, and it soothes my restlessness on nights like this. I've definitely had too many of them for my own good.
I take a deep breath, it calms me down slightly, and I can examine my thoughts more closely. I close my eyes for a minute, and think. Every time I come out here, I seem to think about the same thing, and immediately I see the root of all of my problems; "Potter"
I don't know what to do about him, he's going to be the death of me, and I can't understand why he bothers me so much! He's just a bit showy and he likes attention, and if I trust any of thousands of people at Hogwarts who've talked to me about Potter, then he's just like that because he wants to impress me.
But, it just doesn't make sense! Potter is one of the most popular people at school, he can have any girl, what does he want with me? I'm not a beauty queen, I'm not too smart, but I work hard (I'll give myself that), I'm not that brave either (I have no idea how I got into Gryffindor!) And Potter is captain of the quiditch team; he's got some of the top grades in our class, he's practically fearless, not to mention that he's positively gorgeous! (Oh, dear Merlin! I can't believe I let that thought cross my mind.) So what could he want with someone like me?
I don't know what to make of Potter; is he a genuinely good person? Or, is it just a mask he wears? Is he really interested in me? Or, is it all just an act? Just something everyone laughs about behind my back? Or is there more to it than that? Oh just great I'm rhyming!
It's nearly dawn, I have potions tomorrow, and I'm wasting hours of precious sleep, just to whine to myself about Potter! This is really starting to sink to even bellow pathetic!
I can't make heads or tails of it; it's rather a long time to keep up act, nearly three years, as a matter of fact, it started in our fourth year. But he's been torturing me since the first train ride. I still remember it as well as if it had only been yesterday. It was the start of the Evans-Potter feud.
I was sitting in the train compartment with three other girls; I had barely been their ten minutes, and I was already making friends, I was keeping my promise! Pretty good so far.
We heard the sound of shouting from outside, I looked out in time to watch a black haired boy with hazel eyes and glasses, blast a small looking, greasy haired, kid into the wall.
Half of the students had come out of their compartments, and were just watching the greasy haired boy get picked on; I knew that no one was going to help him, just like no one had helped me. I looked at him and I saw myself in him, he had the same look in his eyes that I used to get, when I was picked on.
I felt angrier than I ever had before; I shouted at the hazel eyed boy until my voice became hoarse. An indignant look crossed his face, and he yelled, in his own defense "You don't even know what he did!"
Truth be told, I don't care what he did, I just can't see anybody get treated the way I did, and I will do everything in my power to make sure that this "Bully" will never get away with doing that again.
I had sworn that I would make Potter's life hell, and Potter had sworn revenge on me for embarrassing him like that in the middle of the train. I never found out what had sparked the fight between him and Snape, but it didn't matter, because as soon as he could Potter had gotten his revenge on me. Via a series of rather spectacular, pranks (that's how he got started playing pranks), and then I retaliated. It went on like that till fourth year, when Potter and I had been forced, by our friends, to sign a truce agreement. But after the pranks were over the "asking me out" song and dance had begun. I REALLY miss the pranks.
Oddly enough, the first time he asked me I had told him that "I'd think about it". But the very next day I walked in on him snogging the life out of some fifth year blond bimbo, whom I happen to despise with a passion. So I had forbid him from asking me out ever again, not that he had paid that any attention. According to him, that's not what I really wanted.
Who on earth was he to tell me what I want and what I don't want? But, Potter is weird that way, he sometimes tells me what I'm going to do before I do it, he can read me like a book. He knows when I'm angry, he knows when I'm upset, he knows when I'm happy, he knows me, I don't know how, but he knows me. At times, I think he knows me better than I know myself.
Sometimes, I turn around, and I catch him staring at me, as though entranced, I don't get why though, I'm nowhere near entrancing! Why does he look at me? The only rational explanation I've ever come up with is that it's some kind of game. But, nobody else thinks that explanation is logical!
I let out a sigh of frustration, and try to take my mind off of it, but the stars aren't being much help tonight, and they'll be fading soon. Damn Potter, why can't I figure out what to do with him? I ought to just curse the hair off of his head; just for keeping me awake this late. I smirked, as I pictured yelling at Potter tomorrow, but what on earth was I supposed to yell at him for? I laugh out load; picturing myself yelling at him tomorrow.
"POTTER! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" I would scream.
"What did I do this time?" He would ask, probably with a patronizing grin.
"YOU KEPT ME AWAKE ALL NIGHT"
I'd be laughed out of the school, and talk about how to give Potter a big head. He’d get that annoying all knowing smirk, he'd rumple up his hair, and I'd want to decapitate him, but for some reason I wouldn't want him dead. How could I want to detach that annoying head of his, and not kill him?
As much as he annoys me, I can't picture a day without having him there to annoy me. Potter's, to my sever displeasure, a permanent figure in my life. But, for how long now? Our seventh year has just started, but it's only a couple of months till it's all over. And after seventh year, I might not see him again.
It’s a chilling thought, but why was it chilling? Why was I dreading not having Potter around to annoy me? It's not like he means something to me, but if he didn't why was I out this late at night thinking about him?
I got up, and I started pacing. I need to get my facts straight; this was starting to get scary. Did Potter really mean something to me?
I struggled to calm myself down, and try to forcibly marshal my thoughts into order. I keep at it for nearly ten minutes before I decide to leave it for another day, I need to get out of here, I can't be thinking about Potter, he's Potter! My sworn enemy, the slim of Hogwarts, I can't care about him!
I turn on my heel quickly, and I really like the idea of getting back inside, back to sanity, and out of the cold, even if I don't get any sleep.
I collided with something solid, there's a thud, like something falling to the floor, but there's nothing there. Instinctively I look around, wondering what I could have hit. I get on my knees and feel around on the floor. I feel like an idiot, but nearly seven years in the magical world had taught me that just because you don't see something, doesn’t mean it's not there.
My hand comes into contact with the solid something again; it feels like some kind of fabric. I pull at it and I almost scream in horror, as an invisibility clock falls off, revealing just the person I've been thinking about all night; Potter raises himself slightly off of the ground, turns to me and says in uncharacteristically nervous voice "Err…Top of the Morning to you, Evans?"
I stare at him for just a moment. Then I can feel the shock starting to wear off, and the anger starting to kick in. How dare he spy on me when I was thinking about him? I try to force myself to remain calm, but I don't have enough self restraint, Potter is turning quite pale, and I only manage to whisper in an extremely low, but deadly, voice "You are so dead Potter."
A/N: This is my first Marauder era fic, so any CC you guys might have I'd really appreciate
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