Lily Evans and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day:

Chapter 1: Ninnyhammers and Greasy Gits.

So, here's how it starts.

She wakes up, on one cloudy spring day, with this little tiny twinge of pain in her shoulder – must have slept in one of those strange positions she sleeps in, she thinks as she begins to roll her shoulder back and forth, in the hope of finding relief. It doesn't really work, but she thinks that if she does it a tiny bit harder, her shoulder will just pop in the right position, and everything will be alright. Yes. It has to.

But when she tries a tiny bit harder, nothing happens. So she tries again, one more time. And another one after that, she feels the creaking bone rotating, but never quite settling the way she wants it to. So, she sighs, rolls her shoulder back one last time, for good measure, pushes herself off her bed, and grabs her wand off her bedside table, and heads for the bathroom with eyes half closed. She bumps her foot on her trunk and has to stop herself from shrieking in pain, biting down onto her fist as she holds onto her leg with one hand and hobbles around on one foot.

She really needs a shower. A good, long, scalding hot shower. Yes, this is what is gonna fix everything. Maybe it will even help set her shoulder right.

The thing is – because there is always a thing, she thinks, gloomily – that the door to the dormitory's bathroom is locked. She groans, loudly, not even bothering to hide her discontent from the rest of her sleeping roommates. Of course one of them is already locked in the bathroom. Of course. This is going to be one of these days. Sure. Why not? As if yesterday wasn't bad enough, she scoffs mentally, as she slides down the wall next to the bathroom door. No, she will not think about yesterday. Yesterday is banned, forgotten, erased, nothing happened yesterday. Nothing happened between her and… No, he doesn't get to have a name anymore. She will not say his name, she will not think his name, not ever again. She will not think about him, period. Not after this. He doesn't deserve this much from her. She feels her resolve tightening in her guts, she is quite sure of this. She knows this much. One night of sleep has settled this for her. Good.

She could go to the Prefect's bathroom, she ponders as she rests her head against the cold stone behind her and closes her eyes for a second, but she's still wearing her pajamas and her dressing gown and she doesn't feel like walking around without proper clothes on. Whose stupid idea was it, anyway, to place a bathroom on the 5th floor? It was so far away from all the dorms! Who, in their right mind, wanted to walk down the several levels of stairs to the common room and then walk around all those cold corridors that led to the bathroom in their pajamas? Not her. No thanks. Not today. Today wasn't a day for public humiliation.

She could maybe just go back to bed. Could? Should? Her Transfiguration O.W.L. isn't set until 2p.m. She has plenty of time – or, err, what time is it, anyway? She tries to look around the room for a clock, shifting her body around and leaning sideways to try to get her own clock in her line of sight. She's pulling on her shoulder a little, and she thinks that it might set it straight. It doesn't, but she gets a glance at her clock: 7:37a.m.: good. She considers the prospect of going back to sleep one more time, before deciding that she needs to go get breakfast if she doesn't want to ruin the rest of her already bleak-looking day. Bleak, dreary, gloomy, sad, cloudy, and – dare she say it? Shitty. Yes, very shitty indeed. Her day was going to be a shittingly bad day, and she would hate every second of it. Especially the Tranfiguration O.W.L. that was bound to ruin her life. It wasn't that she was terribly bad at Transfiguration, no, far from it, but she would have much rather not have to deal with that exam right now. And it's not like she's terribly good at it either. Unlike some people she knows. Lucky bastards, the whole lot of them. She sighs again, leans forward to try and soothe the still-slightly-throbbing pain in her toe.

The door next to her opens suddenly and she jumps to her feet, caught by surprise. A half naked Mary MacDonald walking into the room, leaving a trail of droplets of water behind her. Today will be a day for small victories. This is one of those.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Mary mutters, shifting her towel around with one hand. "Have you been waiting long? You should have banged on the door, I thought everyone else was still sleeping. I mean, besides her."

"It's fine, don't worry. Who's her?"

"You know who!" Mary says exasperatedly. "I'm not saying her name!"

She does know who. Mary has been fighting with one of her other dormmates, Jane Holloway, since last March. Two months of petty fights and name calling has left a bitter taste in her mouth at the sheer thought of having to deal with those two in the same room. She'd much rather not stir the pot any further.

"Are you telling me Voldemort has taken up permanent residency in our dorm?" She asks her, swiftly changing the subject, ignoring the small shudder the sheer utterance of the name gives Mary. "Should I be worried? Is he going to try and steal my lip balm too?"

"Ha-ha. You're a right funny gal, aren't you, Lily Evans?"

"I try," she says, with a shrug, flashing her a grin.

"And I don't steal your lip balms, I borrow them and I lose them."

"Wow, that makes it all better. Thank you for clarifying the situation! Just so you know, I'll put tracking charms on them next year."

"You wound me, Lil', you wound me so," Mary replies, dramatically holding onto her chest with both hands.

"Yeah, yeah, you poor soul. I'm a very cruel person."

"Nice of you to admit it… You never quite told me what happened, last night, by the way."

"What do you mean?" She hears herself say those words, a lump forming in her throat. She knows what Mary means. She can only mean one thing.

"Between you and Snape."

And there it is. Lily feels her heart tug at the mention of his name and figures he has the same effect on her as Voldemort has on everyone else these days. He probably would enjoy that, she begins to think bitterly, before realizing she's doing exactly what she said she wouldn't do. She sighs, rubs her hand over her brow, and bites her lip.

"Oh… Him… Nothing. There was nothing to discuss. I don't even want to talk about it. It's over and done with, it should have been over a long time ago."

"But are you okay, though? You've known him for a long time, it mustn't be easy, right?"

"I'm fine, really, it's okay," she mumbles as she heads for the bathroom. "I just need to take a shower, I'll meet you in the Great Hall, alright?" she says over her shoulder, with a wave, not quite daring to look Mary in the eyes.

"Yeah, sure..."

She closes the door behind her before Mary even has time to finish her sentence, shuts her eyes tight and refuses to let any of the tears forming in her eyes fall. Mary is clearly confused, and worried, but it doesn't matter. Soon enough, the school year will be over, and none of this will matter. No one will remember any of it come September. He won't try to come bother her in the summer, not with Petunia here. He won't come to her house. She'll be safe, there. There's a sob threatening to break free and she has to grab onto a towel to stifle the sound as it escapes.

She just needs to take a shower. Showers solve everything. A bath would be better, but she doesn't have much time if she wants to go get breakfast with Mary. So, she strips down, takes off her slippers, feels the coldness of the stone beneath her feet and turns the taps on. She ends up on the floor, sitting under the hot stream of water and lets it soak her hair even though she hadn't planned on washing it. Might as well do it now that it's wet. She spends a good 15 minutes in peaceful silence, doesn't even feel the tears slide down her cheeks, and when she's done, the tears are gone. Showers are good. Who needs Cheering Charms when showers are right there?

She feels better now, the warmth of the water still hanging on to her body, it is newly soothed and freed of the feelings she's been trying to avoid since yesterday. She feels lighter now. The pain in her shoulder lessened by her liberation. Crying is good. Crying is part of the grieving process. And he is dead. The boy she'd met all those years ago had died, probably a long time ago. She just hadn't realized it yet. And now she would grieve and she would get over it and life would go on and she would be okay.

The plan for the day was set: going on as per usual. Yes, good.

So, as per usual, she puts on her uniform, and before she even considers brushing out her hair or putting on make-up, she wakes up her unsuspecting dormmate by using a tickling charm on her. This is usual. Some sort tradition in her dorm, even. She tries to stifle the laughter bubbling in her chest by clamping her mouth shut with one hand when Dahlia Fletcher starts kicking at her sheets and begins to shriek.

"Ahhhh! For f-fuck-fuck's sake! Li-lily E-vans! St-op, stop it! Sto-o-op!"

She gives up trying to stop her echoing laughter, and jumps onto Dahlia's bed. She mutters the counter curse and begins to tickle her by hand, dropping her wand onto the ground. There's a loud groan from a nearby bed, but she ignores it.

"How'd you even know it was me?"

She doesn't really answer, probably because she's laughing way too hard to do so, and so Lily continues her assault on her ribs.

"Are you awaake? Hey, tell me, Dahlia-dearest, are you awaaaake?"

She's giggling as she fights against all four of Dahlia's thrashing limbs, she ends up having to wiggle her way out of Dahlia's reach, she leans back and pretends to give up only to pounce back onto her a second later.

"Are you awaaaake, noooow?" She repeats, drawling out the vowels in a purposefully high-pitched tone she knows Dahlia hates.

"Y-yes!" She screams out as her hand slaps Lily's, trying to make her stop. "Now, leave me alone you… You ninnyhammer!"

"A what?" Lily blurts out loudly, laughing even harder, as she makes an unladylike snort, forgetting to tickle her poor victim for a second. "That's a new one!"

That one, tiny, seemingly insignificant second of carelessness ends up being Lily's fatal flaw, and her – tragically very short lived – reign of terror upon Dahlia Fletcher's still drowsy body ends with her being tortured mercilessly by way-too-apt fingers. They've been down this path before, she should have known better.

In the end, she has to beg for mercy, not before she manages to throw in a couple of ridiculously outdated insults, but still, Dahlia Fletcher has won this battle. She hears Dorcas groan loudly once more before she huffs and starts to make loud noises around the room.

"Alright, you rascal, I think we've pissed off Meadowes again," Dahlia says, as she puts both of her hands in the air to show she's done with her assault, and Lily is finally set free. "We're sorry, Dorcas! Tell her you're sorry, Lily," she nudges her in the ribs to try and get Lily to comply.

"We're sorry, Dorcas. I know you hate mornings," she says, a smile still tugging at her lips, as she rolls around to look at her frumpy friend.

"It's not just mornings, I hate," she snaps as she stretches out her arms behind her head and yawns.

She still hasn't opened both of her eyes, and that fact alone makes Lily smile. Dorcas Meadowes hates waking up and she hates the noise Lily and Dahlia are prone to make in the morning. This is typical. Typical is good – great, even. Typical is normal. Typical means everything is the same it has always been.

"Oooh, alright, let's not get in over our heads," Dahlia says warily, as she tries to smooth out the situation. "You need coffee, Dory."

"I know," Dorcas sighs.

"Alright," Dahlia says, slapping her hands on her thighs, "I'm gonna go take a shower. You'll wait for me, won't ya, Lil'?"

She's getting up and Lily has to scoot over to avoid getting hit by her decidedly dangerous limbs.

"Yeah, sure. I'm not even done getting ready yet, my hair is still wet."

Dahlia nods and yawns, and continues on her way. Dorcas ends up sitting back on her bed as she rubs both of her eyes with one hand.

"Where's Jane?"

"She was already gone before I woke up," Lily shrugs. "I think she wanted to avoid seeing Mary."

"Oh, not this again! What's it been now, 3 months?"

"Almost, yeah."

"All this over a boy. A boy! It's not even like we have a shortage of those around, they're everywhere, Lily!"

"I'm aware, yes. We live in the same school. They surround me everyday too, you know."

"They're just a bunch of loud, irritating nuisances," she groans, and Lily snorts. Typical. "Oh, by the way, how did it go last night with, err… You know, that creepy, back-stabbing, blood-purist greasy git?"

And there's that pang in her stomach again. Great.

"Nice one," Lily mumbles, not looking her in the eyes.

Can she just not spend the day not having to be reminded of the "greasy git"'s existence? Is it too much to ask? Is he going to just haunt her like this forever, his dark, looming presence ruining every enjoyable moment she will ever try to have? She wants to bury her head in her pillow and kick her feet around, for good measure. This is already getting frustrating.

"I know. I mean, I've been saving this one for a special occasion like this for years now."

"How many of those do you have laying around?"

"Oh, I've got plenty. I've had plenty of time to conjure up some good ones. All those years, Lily. All those years we told you, time and time again –"

"Can we not do this now?" She cuts Dorcas short with pleading eyes as she gets up to grab her hairbrush and fumbles around her bedside table for a bit, looking for her wand.

"Sure, we can do it tomorrow, I'm free all afternoon too, if you'd like, we can arrange a meeting. I should have written them all down. Meet me in that abandoned classroom on the fourth floor, on the left corridor. I'll read them all to you, alright? It'll be fun!"

Lily snorts, shakes her head and kneels down on the floor, looking under her bed. Her wand isn't there, but she finds one of her hair ties she'd thought she'd lost forever. Small victory number two.

"You're not even funny, Dory… Hey, have you seen my wand, by any chance?"

"No… Oh, wait a second… Here," she says.

Lily gets up and whirls around, grabs her wand from Dorcas' hand and thanks her. She begins to brush her hair with one hand as she uses her wand in the other to put a heating charm on her hair, it takes a while, and it's certainly not as effective as her hair-dryer at home, but it works.

Dorcas ends up getting ready way before she does, one of the perks of taking her showers at night and not wearing make-up, she tells her smugly, watching Lily try to "bloody, fucking damn it" make her eyeliner look symmetrical. She's on her fourth try. It's probably not happening today. She hates today. She gives up after that, uses the remnants of her eyeliner as eyeshadow.

"D'you think it's too much?" she asks Dorcas, pointing at her eyes.

"Hun, half the girls around here wear bright blue eyeshadow, I don't think anyone is going to even notice this. It kinda looks like you've done it on purpose. I dig it."

Small victory number three.

Dahlia finally comes out of the bathroom after what feels like forever and Lily's stomach is grumbling by the time the three of them are finally climbing out the common room's portrait. This is where she saw him last. She wants to pinch herself for thinking about it. Bloody stupid ghost.

"I told Mary I'd meet her in the Great Hall," she recalls aloud, her fingers playing with the strap of her rucksack.

"I think Mary's probably left the Great Hall a long time ago. She's either in the library or by the lake with that sixth year Ravenclaw… What's his name anyway?"

"Mike something," Lily mumbles.

"It's Matt! I think his last name is Williams? Can't be sure. Isn't he related to that 7th year Hufflepuff prefect, Lil'?" Dahlia corrects. She, in Lily's opinion, always knows too much about other people's love lives.

"Who, Amelia? I'm pretty sure her brother isn't here anymore."

"No, not Bones. Sourpuss face, what's his name?"

"Oh, Rafe? Rafe Walters?"

"Yeah, that's the name. She said he was 'helping her study' Herbology last week, but I saw them in the library… Let me just say that there wasn't a single book opened at their table."

"Well, I don't know why she's still so hung up on what happened with Jane if she's dating again."

They all sigh, this is a thing that unites them all: the shrieking fights, dirty looks and insults have become unbearable. They walk down to the Great Hall in silence. Mary isn't here, and neither is Jane. She doesn't dare to look towards the Slytherin table, but she swears she can feel his eyes starring at her. Bloody ghost.

Dahlia picks up someone's forgotten Daily Prophet on the table, and starts reading the important stuff out loud between bites of her raspberry jam scone. Lily tries to shut off the words, she does not feel like hearing about the deaths of the family members of some renowned Auror, or the seemingly endless torture of a Muggle woman whose apparently unforgivable mistake was dating a witch. She can not bring herself to think about those horrid things today. They hurt too much. She doesn't have it in her to feel that pain today. There will come a time, a day, where she will pick up the newspaper herself, read those things and feel the pain, the anger, the revolt bubbling in her stomach, and she will want to fight harder than ever has. Today is not that day, and it is okay. It has to be. The burden is too heavy to bear today.

So, she finishes up her eggs, drinks her pumpkin juice in silence and finally speaks up. The girls have kept talking and she lost track of the conversation a long time ago. They're used to it, anyway. This is a thing Lily does. She gets lost in her own thoughts, forgets about the concept of time and space. Her friends don't mind. Dahlia thinks it's funny, Dorcas says she's a weirdo but doesn't care, Jane doesn't even notice and Mary would just throw food at her if she were here.

"I'll see you later, alright? I'll just go study some more in the library. I think Transfiguration is going to be the death of me."

"Tell me about it" Dahlia says, she's been telling them all week she's going to fail all her exams and she'll have to leave Hogwarts out of shame.

"Oh, you'll do great, stop it!" Lily replies, furrowing her brow. She's trying to make a point. Dahlia always worries too much.

"Bye!" calls Dorcas with a wave. Lily waves in return, picks up her bag from the ground and takes off.

She's already walking away when Dahlia calls her name.

"Lil'! Wait! Wait! Come back here!" Lily turns around, half-expecting Dahlia to be running after her. She's not, she is still very much sitting at the table, only she's brandishing a wand – her wand.

She sighs, walks back and thanks her.

"What's wrong with you today?" Dorcas asks her, a twinge of concern showing on her face. She's prone to notice things like that. Bugger it all.

"I think the exams are wearing me thin."

"Last day, alright, hun. One last day. Tomorrow all we're doing is trying to get you pale freaks a tan."

"Yeah… Thanks for the compliment, by the way, Dory," she calls over her shoulder. "Find me in the library, alright? I'll be the pale, red-headed freak having a mental breakdown!"

She can hear her laughter behind her, and so she heads for the library with a smile on her face, wand firmly held in her hand, not quite daring to let it go. She sees James Potter walking down the stairs and swiftly avoids him. She thinks she's safe. He probably hasn't seen her. She hides behind a tall 7th year Gryffindor boy, whose name she should remember, but doesn't, and manages to escape what would be a most disastrous conversation. He's stuck on one of the stairs directly above her now, and she sees him stick his hand in his hair. Typical. Still not good, though. He definitely hasn't seen her or he'd have yelled out her name, by now. Relief seeps into the depth of her stomach and loosens the ball of angst she hadn't realized had been forming. She makes a quick exit to her right and lets out a sigh. At least she wouldn't have to deal with that mess today.

Once she gets to the library, she tries to spot Mary, but there's no sign of her blonde hair or pink hairband. Tell-tale signs she's probably outside, flirting with Matt Walters by the lake, as Dahlia had foretold. She'd be great at Divination. So, Mary isn't here, but Jane is. Her sleek black hair neatly held up in a ponytail and her quills scattered across the table.

"What have you done to your eyes?" Jane asks, squinting at her questioningly when she sits down next to her.

Small victory number three? Oh. Yeah. Not a thing anymore.