In the fifth year, he kissed me, in front of the WHOLE school and my life was ruined from then on. So I pushed him away, punched him in the eye and hexed him. Any normal person would take my violence as a hint to leave me alone, but not James Potter. You see, James Potter isn’t a normal person. Then he asked me out a billion times, and I said no, and hexed him, and gave him detention. As a prefect, it was my responsibility to punish him for asking me out.

“Lily Evans?” I put up my hand, and Slughorn gave me a big, warm smile. He he, I’m his favourite student. Go me. I’m a teacher’s pet. I’m a teachers pet. I’m a –
Wait, that isn’t good, is it.
I’m Slughorn’s favourite student, but I’m not a teacher’s pet.
That’s better.

We climbed into the portrait hole, and everyone in the Gryffindor common room fell silent.
Oh, it appears the news of my recent escapade with the Marauders has spread.
“I heard James Potter poisoned her because she wouldn’t go out with him.”
“Really? ‘Cos I heard she ate a lot of peanuts for dinner and she’s very allergic.”
I turned and glared at two second years, who jumped.
“What the hell are you all looking at?” Grace said to the common room, who all unwillingly turned away.

“My, that was fun. Fancy a walk?”
“I guess.” I shrugged.
What am I doing?
What exactly am I doing?
With him?
It’s called reconciliation.
Ahem, I am not reconciling with James Potter.
What would you call it then?
I would call it walking.
I see…

Lying on my bed were four parcels.
I know! Four of them!
I am a lucky girl.
Wait a second, four?
I recounted the parcels and crossed my arms in confusion.
Last time I counted, I had three best friends.
I have four parcels.
Someone has sent me a present and I haven’t sent them one!
The embarrassment!

“Oh! I see. Is Lily jealous?” Maria smirked.
“Uh, no! Jealous? Haha!” I pretended to be extremely interested in some fluff on my jumper.
Maria’s brown eyes widened.
“Oh my God!” she squealed. “You are!”
It ISN’T that exiting.
“Maria, shush!” I begged her. Adeline came over and raised her eyebrows at us.
“Lily fancies James!” Maria whispered, although it might as well been a yell.

“Lily,” Grace came down the stairs behind me. “Why are your knees wibbling?”
“Wibbling?”
“You know, trembling, shaking. Wibble wobble. Wibbling.”
“I, err, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stammered. She walked past me with an evil smile on her face singing that old jelly on a plate song.