A/N: So theoretically I'm working on 'the look out' which is like seconds away from being ready to post a big fat chapter but Lily just wouldn't leave me alone. CasaKitten and I brainstormed about all of the next gen peeps and our favorite by far was always this idea of Lily being this completely OCD person that Ginny just has trouble wrapping her head around. Like she had given birth to Percy times 10, I hope that you stick through this story, or chapter one of this story even if it's a totally new set of characters for me. It's taking place in the same 'verse as everything else but from Lily's POV.

A few Introductions

She couldn't help the counting. It was constant and beyond her control. Footsteps, stairs, bites before swallowing; her world was a ever growing collection of numbers. Prime numbers were her least favorite and for luck she always tapped her middle finger against her leg when she walked. Not that Lily would openly admit this to anyone; even neurotic people can be sane enough to know what's crazy.

No, Lily Potter had learned long ago that while most people feel different than everyone else around them, she was one of the few that were actually correct. She had always been particular about certain things, most things really. The difference between a tea plate and a saucer was obvious; there really was no excuse for mixing them up. It was just proper, the way things should be done. Though as a five year old she hadn't been able to come up with a convincing argument when her cousin Rose hadn't seemed to care at all about the appropriate etiquette of such things and so she'd resorted, in her frustration, to a massive tantrum.

Lily was just not a girl prepossessed of social graces. In consequence, when a lifelong male friend sat down at the table across from her with a nervous smile and a newly acquired awkward hello, instead of smiling back she simply furrowed her brow at the fresh ink blotch on her parchment from the sudden movement and pull out a fresh roll to re write her completed foot long potions essay.

Her lack of the skill to understand normal daily interactions lead her to forget that a wiry built boy had just sat across from her. Her focus was entirely drawn to the harsh blemish marring her hard work. It screamed out to her, ruining any possible chance to converse normally with the disheveled young man who was busy biting his lip nervously awaiting a response to his friendly greeting.

He received none.

After a full minute and a half of studying the long straight red hair glistening in the dim light spilling in from the window and pondering the cosmic meaning behind the freckles gracing the bridge of her nose, he gathered the courage to try again.

"Hi Lily," She didn't notice the slight quiver in his breathy voice. "What are you working on?" or that he was leaning forward in his seat, childishly optimistic in the hope that she would look up at him with her wide brown eyes and smile widely.

She didn't.

No, instead of having the natural instinct most people take for granted, an instinct that would have told her this was simply an attempt to engage her in conversation, this very lack of intuition lead her to respond in a bland tone without bothering to look up.

"Attempting to rephrase my introduction to include Gopalot's argument for the use of Acrumantula venom in paralysis drafts," Which was exactly what she was doing, so it answered the boys question without the slightest variance from the truth, but did little to encourage conversation. The boy wrinkle his long nose, only momentary deterred by disappointment before endeavoring further.

"Sounds fascinating," there was a pause that Lily didn't even register as awkward since she was too busy having a mental debate over the merit of the word colloidial. Though after an unbearably long time, from his perspective, he found words to fill the ever expanding space between them; so heavy that it was threatening to suffocate him if he didn't speak or stand up and bolt for the door. "Sounds like fun."

This comment was the first clue to Lily that Lysander might be interested in a conversation, since even to her unskilled ears this sounded like a stretch. Acknowledging his efforts though, were not the same as knowing what to do with them. Her lifetime of knowing Lysander did little to help her along the path of enlightenment of interpersonal interaction with him so she simply looked up with a confused stare. After an extended awkward pause though she did manage to come up with what she thought was a funny come back.

"Not as exhilarating as the Tentacula practical examination, but I manage." He smiled warmly at her as he laughed and she took a moment to bask in the glow at the successful interaction. It was one of the things that she enjoyed most about their friendship; he understood her sense of humor. Most assumed that she was always serious, even members of her own family wouldn't catch her jokes.

"So I was wondering if you were going to the Quidditch match tomorrow." She noticed his cheeks color as he spoke and he used his thumbnail to trace the grain in the table's worn surface. She didn't understand it but she noticed it none the less.

"Since two of my cousins and a brother are on team it's a fair assumption that I'll be in attendance." What an odd question, she mused. She attended every match, she loved Quidditch. She may not be an over grown baby over the outcome like some of the others (her parents for example) but Lily had a great appreciate for the skill and talent that went into mastering the sport.

"Right, of course," Lysander drew his thumb nail in between his teeth, she shuttered. Does he know how many infectious bacteria live on the hands? Why was he doing that, it was a terrible habit that he seemed to have taken to particular amount of use lately, though formally he'd saved it for when he was anxious about something. She stared at his teeth mangling the nail until he spoke again, mesmerized in her own horrification at the sight before her.

"Well I was just wondering, I mean, well it's just that you're going and I'm going, it might be sort of nice to go together or something like that." He gesticulated animatedly as he spoke but seemed to lose pace with what he was saying by the end and simply let his hands hang in the air like limp deflated balloons.

"Alright," was Lily's single worded answer. They usually sat with their respective houses for Quidditch matches but if he wanted to sit with a bunch of rowdy Gryffindor's as they play against Hufflepuff then so be it. His face broke into a wide grin, lighting up his whole countenance.

"Great, that's great." He said, a little too loudly for the library. He stood up from the table, once again bumping it and sending a long splotched streak of ink across her perfectly penned introduction. She furrowed her brow again as she reached for another roll of parchment. He swung his bag over his shoulder but stood facing her instead of walking off. "It's a date then, I'll meet you after breakfast by the big oak doors leading outside, and we can walk down together."

His cheeks looked like they might split apart from the size of the grin on his face. 'I wonder what he's so please about; he must just be excited for the match.' She concluded as she turned her attention back toward her fresh piece of parchment. She wasn't able to get very far as a lanky red head slipped into the newly unoccupied spot.

"Doth mine ears deceive me fair cousin?" Lucy said with a grin. At least she'd had the decency not to bump the table. Her hair was bursting out of its ponytail though it took a considerable amount of will power not to imagine smoothing it down.

"I don't know, are you experiencing hear problems?" Lily answered, not understanding the Shakespearian-esque reference. Lucy rolled her eyes, all to use to her exact interpretation of things.

"Lysander Scamander just took up from this very spot before saying, and I quote. "It's a date." That is what I am asking about." Lily shook her head slightly, attempting to clarify the misunderstanding.

"No, he just wants to sit with me for the match tomorrow." She stated this as though it cleared up any and all confusion. She was surprised to see Lucy's eyebrow rise in a manner she knew to mean mischief.

"You mean sort of like a date?"Lily frowned; Lucy was just not getting this.

"I'm sure he just wants to sit with the Gryffindor's so he doesn't get razzed for supporting a rival team. "

"Ravenclaw's go either way for a Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff match. No one would care; he just wants to sit with you." These last words were exaggerated into a childlike taunt.

"What's wrong with that, we've gone to matches together before." Lily did not understand why this was such a big deal.

"Yeah, but he's never made a point of asking you before hand and then clarifying that is in fact a date." Lucy punctuated her words with her pointer finger bouncing on the table. So much for that fresh and clean piece of parchment; Lily rolled up the now ink blotched parchment and pulled out another fresh one. She would have to pick up some more in Hogsmeade on the next trip. She was getting low. Lucy stopped her mid movement though by placing her hand on top of hers.

"How many times have you restarted this essay?" Lucy demanded.

"This will be my ninth." Lily admitted sheepishly.

"Lily," Lucy said softly in chastisement, this was not the first time they'd had this conversation.

"Yes," was Lily's quiet response as she inspected her hands? One finger nail was longer than the rest, she'd have to fix that, she thought as she mentally avoided what she knew was coming.

"Have you finished writing this essay out?" Lucy's strict tone demanded.

"Yes but Lysander sat down and it got ink scattered all over it. It was totally ruined!" Lily defended herself in a cool and collected tone. Lucy's only response was to hold out her hand and tap her fingertips on the table. Lily sighed and pulled out the parchment containing her completed essay, sighed again at being caught, and handed it over to her cousin.

"As you can see I simply had no alternative then to restart." Her defense would seem feeble at best to her cousin and she knew it, but it was her reasoning all the same. Just as she suspected, Lucy pulled out her wand and siphoned off the offending blotch of ink.

"See, it's as good as new." Lucy offered, though Lily simply glowered at it. "Don't be like that. It's just the same as it was before, now take it and stop wasting all your parchment."

"But it was there." Lily attempted the defense she knew wouldn't work, her voice showing the hint of sulking as she over emphasized 'was'.

"Yes, but as you can clearly see, it's not anymore." Lucy pushed the roll further toward her and Lily felt obligated to take it. On one level She knew her cousin was right, but that didn't change that fact that when she looked at her essay all she could think of was its state of former ruin; the black ink streaking blotchily across her straight lines, maiming the perfection. She closed her eyes and took long deep breaths, trying not to ripe it into little pieces, perfectly sizes pieces that she could throw into the fire.

Not that Lucy would let it go that far, she's simply repair the paper and then it wouldn't just be blotches calling out to her but a grid line of slices disfiguring it despite the outward perfection.

"That's right; breathe deeply, in, out; in and out." Lily both appreciated and resented the verbal affirmation of the mantra she was repeating over and over in her own mind. Lucy was by far the most understanding with Lily's 'little quirks' or so her family had taken to calling them. In truth Lily knew that when her mother said it she was thinking something like 'spaz attacks'.

Lucy understood her, even if she didn't understand. Just like Lily, Lucy didn't fit into her family. Her father and mother as well as her older sister Molly were as up tight and as straight laced as they come. That was Lucy's verbiage of course. Lily rather liked her Uncle and Aunt, their house was always clean and organized. They also seemed to hold the same reverence for following preset guidelines that she did. When having a sleep over with her favorite cousin in their childhood Lily had always wanted it at Lucy's house while Lucy fought for the opposite.

Lucy fit more in at the Potter's house, a place that wasn't that big on caring about putting your feet on coffee table. It was still clean mind you, but there were times that instead of making it all the way up the stairs, the laundry might sit on the landing for an afternoon until one of her brothers got caught in doing something wrong and were told to put it away.

It was a long standing family joke that Lily and Lucy were switched as babies; an all too real possibility since they were only 2 months apart and looked basically the same. Straight red hair, lean build and fair freckled skin, some of their classmates had a difficult time telling them apart.

This was something that bothered Lily greatly. If you actually looked at them, their facial features weren't anything alike, not to mention personal demeanor. It was just the coloring people got hung up on.

Though the annoyance she felt when a teacher, ones they'd had since first year couldn't tell them apart was nothing to when her own mother mentioned this. Not that she ever really mixed them up, but that they were switched. Lily's insecurities about not fitting in or being a welcomed member of the family were only punctuated when this was bantered about at family dinners and holidays.

If you look, really look she was just like her mother. The eyes the same rich chocolate brown, their noses were the same and they both had the same slightly crooked smile. So when she overheard her parents whispered conversation, her own mother saying she just wasn't sure. That Lily was just so different, that Lily worried her, it had hurt.

It was that night as she snuck out of bed for a cup of milk that all of her fears that her mother didn't love her were confirmed; she'd wished Lucy had been her daughter. She was the Quidditch playing, rough house with the boys Lucy that her mother saw herself in. Her open acknowledgement that she was her favorite niece, though she said it was because Lucy was the only Harpies fan. In her heart Lily knew it was because wanted her as a daughter instead.

Just as Lily stuck out like a sore thumb from the Potter family, Lucy stuck out from her family. Pranks and misbehavior weren't something Uncle Percy and Aunt Audrey had experienced with their elder daughter Molly. Molly, 5 years older than Lucy was simply the perfect daughter. Prefect, Head Girl, job offers pouring in before settling on her parent's dearest wish and working at the ministry.

So despite not understanding about ink blotches and poorly folded bed linens, she understood how she felt. Lucy was her confidant in all things, and it was Lucy, despite the vast differences in personality, that Lily leaned on for support. It was Lucy who knew how and when to step in to deter one of Lily's 'little quirks' from getting out of hand. Like when she felt the compulsion to rewrite her essay nine times though four of those copies would have been fine to turn in, it was Lucy who stepped in and reminded her to breath.

"Alright, now that we have all of that out of our system," Lucy paused, an effect that was lost on Lily social ineptitude, "Tell me about this date!" Lily groaned.

"There is nothing to tell." She answered blandly, feeling little emotion about this whole thing. "He came over, made a blotch on my parchment," Lily was still on the defense about the whole essay situation, "asked if I was going to the Quidditch game and when I said yes said it would be nice to go together. Then I simply agreed and he left."

"Did he say it would be a large group, all walking down together? Or was it a clearly defined you and him sort of thing?"

"Does it matter?" Lily asked, genuinely confused at the semantics she was being grilled on. This was greeted with an exasperated huff of annoyance even Lily didn't miss in a way that clearly said 'Yes, it matters.' Lily though back to what the exact exchange had been, she had been distracted by the mangled chewing of his fingernail and hadn't found anything too pressing in the conversation.

"Well, he said that since I was going and he was going that it would be nice to go together. Then he said we'd meet by the oak front doors to walk out to the pitch together." Something in what she'd said had sparked Lucy's interest; it had caused her to open her mouth wide before covering it with her hands and squeaking in an unexplainable fashion.

"What? Tell me why you're squealing like a baby piglet," Lily pleaded with her cousin. She hated this, knowing she was missing out on something basic that everyone else understood was humiliating. It was like everyone else was speaking a secret code that she was suppose to know but had misplaced the decryption key.

"Lily, that was very bold of him." Lucy explained slowly, knowing she would have to take baby steps to clarify the situation. "He specifically asked that it be the two of you, together and then instead of just finding you in the stands like he would any other day if he wanted to sit by you, he set up a meeting time and place."

Lily thought about this, yes it had seemed over kill to clarify such easily managed details. He could have just walked over to her as she finished eating to walk with her or found her in the stands and sat with her. No, Lucy's reason's made much more sense and yet, they made no sense at all!

Lysander? Little Lysander, for that is what they'd always called him because he and his brother were shorter than all the above average in height Weasley clan. They were of slighter build, more wiry and frail looking than the rest of the brood. 'What just happened?' She thought as she replayed the conversation back to herself.

"It can't be, inter brood dating isn't allowed." It was the only thing Lily could think of. Rules, by laws, bonds of brood hood sealed with blood under a round full moon watching over them from above. They had howled, she had been told it was the cementing of a pact by becoming a pack, and so she had howled despite the feeling that it was ridiculous; they had all done it.

Lucy didn't seem to feel this was too much of a deterrent though, not like Lily, ever the keeper of order and rules Lily, for Lucy merely waved off the protest.

"Oh please, if he's willing to break such a stupid rule I say go for it." Lily didn't say anything knowing from experience how little good it did to convince Lucy of the merits of keeping a rules.

"Lysander?" was Lily's only response, still reeling from such an unlikely turn of events.

"Come on, at least sound a little excited about your first date."

"It's not my first date." Lily defended quietly as she began putting everything neatly into her bag.

"Lil's, a reoccurring study appointment with a teacher is not a date." Lucy replied flatly, and Lily deflated a little. She stood up and placed situated her bag over her shoulder before smoothing out her skirt and assuring her hair hadn't gotten messed up in the process.

"Not in the traditional sense no, but I get to spend two evenings of every week with a handsome man who I can carry on intelligent conversations with. There is a chemistry between us that you just don't understand." With this she turned and headed toward the door. She was half hoping and half dreading Lucy's following questions as she carelessly slung her own bag over her shoulder and jogged to catch up.

"Chemistry is it? Well that makes sense since you are studying potions. It's all just chemical reaction after all." Lily glared and kept walking, not really mad but knowing that acting more upset than she was would eliminate much of the teasing. Lucy was like the rest of her cousins who were all under the delusion the 'mock 'em til they cry' was a motto to live by. And after a few more minutes of teasing to which Lily responded very little Lucy gave up.

"Fine, fine, be all dramatic and whatever; just know this." Lucy grabbed Lily's by the arm and forced her to stop and turn, meeting her eyes. "He's a Professor, I don't care how good he looks in his lab robes, nothing, and I repeat nothing will ever come of this little crush you've been nursing. So if I were you, I wouldn't turn down real guys who are nice and asking you on dates. Go with Lysander to the Quidditch match; let him hold your hand to keep it warm even if you know half a dozen charms to do the same job better. Don't ruin it over insane fantasy of Professor Abernathy."

Lily shook her head in agreement because she didn't think she could talk just then without spilling over with tears. She knew all of that made sense from Lucy's perspective, that Lily was only a fifth year and that he was thirteen years older than her, but when she was with him none of that seemed to matter.

They met Tuesday and Friday nights to work on her early acceptance into St. Mungo's research potioneer internship. It was a tough field, admission into the programs was so tight they didn't even limit it to numbers per year, some years they didn't accept anyone because the applicants weren't good enough. St. Mungo's was the top most sought after program in Britain, there were a few private research facilities but nothing else was in the same building as a working hospital.

When Professor Abernathy had asked her at the beginning of this year if she was interested in the early application; that despite being only a 5th year she should think about it now since they lean heavily on your O.W.L's. She had immediately agreed, since she had always had a knack for potions. It was the one class where being particular and specific was rewarded.

She had confided in Lucy completely about her growing feelings for her Professor, the looks they shared as they worked. They way he touched the small of her back when he leaned over to check her work or when he passed behind her. Things he never did in class, only when they were alone together.

It was with these thoughts that the cousins parted way, Lucy back to Gryffindor tower and Lily for her Friday night potions lesson. When she stepped over the threshold of her favorite room in all of Hogwarts castle she found his office to be just the way she liked it; pristine and perfect, smelling faintly of antiseptic potions.

She had barely walked into the lab area and began pulling out her lab robes from her bag when Professor Abernathy stepped into the room from a private door by his desk. He smiled and she felt her knees go weak. He was her perfect idealized dream come true. Tall, dark and handsome just like all those romance novels Aunt Hermione hides in her study so no one will find them. He wore thick rimmed glasses and his dark hair was perfectly in place. A cleft in his chin made him look handsome and rugged while the dimple on his right cheek when he smiled made him look young and sweet.

"Hello Miss Potter, how is my favorite potions genius today?" The handsome professor asked as he walked in her direction.

"I don't know yet, I haven't asked how you're doing?" She smiled as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and smiled.

"You know its answers like those that will keep you my favorite student." Professor Abernathy looked over his shoulder at her with a wink as he began unloading ingredients from the cupboard. Lily felt her cheeks flush with color at the gesture.

"Of course Professor, but I only say them because you're my favorite teacher." She felt her blush deepen at this confession, though she made it every chance she got; she couldn't help but blush at the truth of her words being laid out for the whole world to witness. He set down the ingredients on the table and she began sorting them by order of when the potion called for them. They're hands touched as she moved them, over and over again, she wondered if he was reaching for the same bottles on purpose. The idea that he did made her feel too warm for how close she was to the fire set beneath the cauldron.

"You know, we are in these little study sessions on our own free time. I don't think that it would be too out of line for you to just call me Nicholas when we're alone like this." She looked up at him; he was leaning forward onto the table between them and looking at her like he could see through her.

"Alright," she paused, "Nicholas." The effect of his name falling from her lips, so intimate a thing in this scholastic setting was unsettling in her and though she reveled in the cherished permission the part of her more comfortable with all things ruled and regulated had to acclimate to this new familiarity.

"So Miss Potter, are you ready begin where we left off with the Veritaserum?" He asked rubbing his hands together in excitement. She swallowed with some difficulty.

"Well, Nicholas," she said again, feeling more comfortable this time as she did so. "it seems strange for me to call you by your first name only to have you answer me with a 'Miss Potter', wouldn't it seem only right to call me Lily?" She was confident in her question, though several of her teachers had known her as Lily as a child they had all conformed to the standard 'Miss Potter' upon her first year, she felt a closeness with Nicholas that she didn't even associate with Professor Longbottom who was routinely called 'Uncle Neville' outside of school.

"I have always wondered," he began walking around the large table toward her. "The class list says Lillian Potter." He paused as though waiting for an answer, though he hadn't technically asked a question, Lily remained silent; hanging on his every movement as he walked toward her. "You don't really seem like the sort to go by a nickname, much like myself disliking being called Nick. Tell me would you prefer Lily or Lillian?"

No one had ever thought to pose this question to her before. She was always just Lily, after her father's mother. She had often thought of how pretty a name Lillian was, elegant and graceful as it rolled off the tongue, but she had never thought to change it though. This suddenly struck her as a huge oversight on her part.

"Lillian, I'd like you to call me Lillian." She looked up at him, close to her and hovering over her. He raised one hand and held it beside her cheek.

"Well Lillian," he brushed a stray hair behind her ear and she shivered at both his touch and his use of her name. Her name reserved just for his use, like a pet name of sorts. "Let us get things going then shall we?"