Before we get started, let me just take a moment to state that I am not a fiance-stealer. Well, Victoire might tell you differently, but I swear I'm not.
My name is Lily Potter, and I may have accidentally kissed my cousin's husband-to-be. And the entirety of the magical world may know about it. And I may not be completely sorry about aforementioned accident.
But don't tell anyone about that last bit.
Back to my story. I am having some serious issues. See, there's this boy... well- boy isn't the right word- more like god... and he's been a family friend for as long as I can remember. And he's engaged to my cousin, Victoire (who I'm not all that fond of to begin with, mind you). So he's basically family. And being a Potter, obviously everyone knows us, our business, what have you. Basically anyone related to Daddy is boned, privacy-wise. So when Victoire got engaged to Teddy- or as the tabloids put it so sweetly, Theodore Lupin, metamorphagus and orphaned son of Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks- of course everyone knew. And of course, while celebrating said engagement with a huge party like my family enjoys so much, I, Lily Potter- daughter of THE Harry Potter- accidentally kissed him by tripping down the stairs (no, I'm actually not lying) and had enough people who couldn't keep their mouths shut witness it.
First rule of gossip: everything gets lost in translation.
So the innocent act of me tripping on my brother's sneakers that he foolishly left on the stairs turned into me dragging Teddy by his shirt collar to the bathroom and shagging him senseless for hours and a whole slew of other ghastly rumours- some of which may be slightly accurate, but still not anyone's business in any fashion.
Let me start from the beginning of that day and why it was bad from the the moment I got up.
1. I woke up to my mother screaming at my brothers and I about not being up and dressed already.
2. James hogged the shower for 45 minutes. Seriously. What guy needs forty-bloody-five minutes in the shower? WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THERE?
3. Albus ate all the bacon, which is just not okay and entirely unethical.
4. I had to walk the dog. I didn't even want the damn thing. I'm allergic to them as it is. Albus should be walking the bloody dog, it's his.
5. My mother then berated me for 30 minutes about how jeans and a jumper are not proper "engagement party attire." Bollocks they aren't.
6. If all of that wasn't bad enough, by noon, our property was covered with about ninety people - be they reporters, paparazzi, or family- and I literally had no where to run and hide.
By about four in the evening, I was so worn out that I had to escape for a few minutes. So I went where everyone goes when it's crowded and there's nowhere you can get a moment of peace.
I retreated to the bathroom.
Locked the door, sat on the side of the tub, and just breathed deeply for about five minutes, attempting to drown out the incessant chatter on the other side of the door. I was not drunk enough to handle that at all.
As I came to the realization that I needed more... some kind of liquor or wine or beer or whatever I could get my hands on... I let myself out of the bathroom to a line of about 5 women waiting, rolled my eyes at them, and headed back downstairs.
This is where everything got really, really ugly really, REALLY fast.
I trudged down the stairs like I always did, with the same annoyed face that I had been wearing for hours, turned the corner of the stairway, only to trip on James' stupidly large, oaf-ish sneakers and crash face-and-lips first into the man of the hour. Day. Whatever, who cares.
Yep. Lips crash landed on my father's engaged-to-my-bitch-cousin godson's lips.
And I knew I was dead.