Summary: Lily Evans isn't a normal girl, she's already unknowingly become a target in the war, she's still mourning the loss of her oldest friend who has allied himself against her and she thinks she might be the only girl on earth not in love with James Potter...
Authors Note: This is my first attempt at fan fiction, I'm constantly reading it and when I read one I don't like, I find myself getting really irritated, then feel guilty about it. So I guess it was my conscience that prompted me to attempt writing this, I don't know whether it will be any good, I've never thought myself to be much of a fiction writer, I get awful writers block, but I promise to give this a good go! I am going to attempt to keep the story true to the time period in terms of cultural references, but some of the turns of phrase and their attitudes will probably be a bit more modern. Any Brits who get annoyed at the Americanisms used in Potter fan fiction shouldn't have to worry here, I'm a Brit myself. The rest of the story won't be the same style as the Prologue, but I wanted to write it a bit differently to give a bit of information as to how I think Lily's feeling at this point about everything as every author portrays her slightly differently. For this reason, I am posting the Prologue and Chapter 1 at the same time, so that you have a bit more to comment on in terms of the actual story if you choose to review (please do!).
The lyrics from the start of the prologue are what inspired me to finally start writing this story, although I had been thinking about it for some time already! I imagine a lot of you will have heard of Arctic Monkeys, but those of you who haven't I suggest listening to at least the song the lyrics are from, it will give you a good insight into what got me all inspired to write! But they are an amazing band anyway, hands down my favourite Haha! ;) Anyway, I am going to sign off before this A/N becomes a story in its own right!
Until next time!
weasley-is-your-king
Disclaimer: All belongs to the God that is JKR
Prologue:
"Do me a favour and ask if you need some help,
She said do me a favour and stop flattering yourself!
And to tear apart the ties that bind,
perhaps 'fuck off' might be too kind,
perhaps 'fuck off' might be too kind..." – Arctic Monkeys 'Do Me A Favour'
I rarely used to have nightmares, my sister Petunia was always the one who suffered from them, but since I ran into my former best friend during my pre Hogwarts trip to Diagon Alley, I've been having the same dream every night. They begin with my earliest memory of using magic, I was 6 and Polly Cooper was teasing me over my red hair one afternoon at the park, she had been doing this since we started school, but that day I had finally had enough, and I caused a branch to break from the tree Polly was stood under and to fall on her head, unintentionally of course, even though at the time I couldn't explain how, I knew I'd caused it. She had needed 8 stitches. Then, I am 9 years old and had inadvertently caused Petunia to choke on her dinner when she had tried to tell on me to Mum after she saw me sneaking into our parent's wardrobe trying to find the Christmas presents, luckily she was ok. Until I went to Hogwarts, there were many smaller incidents that were similar to these; they were a common occurrence as a child, when I had neither my magic, nor my temper, under control. In between these two main memories and each night different ones will feature in my dream. Memories of these incidents all build up to the same day and the final memory that features in my dream. Nothing scares me more than when I think of how I felt the day my best friend betrayed me, the day I finally realised I had lost Severus Snape.
Severus had been my first true friend, before he told me that I was a witch, I had thought myself a freak, the name Petunia's continued to refer to me as since she found out and when she first spat it at me on Platform ¾ he was the first person to make me feel that it was still ok to be what I was, it was her problem, not mine, it was born out of a fear of what she didn't understand, because she wasn't special, like us.
By 4th year he had become my first love, I never managed to work out whether it was a platonic love, or romantic, I was never attracted to him in the way that girls are supposed to be with boys, I didn't stare at him across the classroom when he thought I wasn't looking, I didn't stay awake late at night and think about kissing him. No- it was his mind that I loved, he matched my intellect and we could talk for hours about anything and I fully believed that he understood me. I had felt proud of myself for staying away from the shallow crushes that most of the girls in my dorm had succumbed to; I thought I had found my soul mate, a kindred spirit as it were. Yet the thought had always plagued me (most often when I saw the likes of Potter and Black with whichever girl they were dating (or as rumour had it, fucking in an empty broom cupboard) that week) where was the passion?
But we found the passion, not the kind Potter, Black and their girls had, the kind I thought I wanted, a different kind of passion was in his eyes when he had called me a mudblood in front of the entire year, and that was that, 6 years of friendship had been unwoven by that one word. I wasn't upset- I was angry, angrier than I had ever been, angry that he had dared throw my love for him back in my face! In my blinding fury memories of Polly Cooper and Petunia came back in full force, along with memories of defending Severus year after year, how I had severed any friendship I may have had with the majority of the Gryffindor boys, how by third year I had gained the pity of the girls for being deluded enough to think any friendship I'd had with him might withstand the house rivalry and differing blood status. This dangerous cocktail of memories and emotions combined with the sounds of branches cracking, choking and the word mudblood echoing in my ears lead to a familiar feeling of the air crackling around me, my blood boiling and my muscles tensing, all leading to a perverse pleasure at the thought of whatever comeuppance he was about to receive, my common sense won out, but I knew all I could do was run, I was losing control of my powers for the first time in seven years and if I hadn't been so furious at the time I would have registered the fear I had felt at how quickly and to the extent I was losing control of myself. It's that fear that plagues me in the nightmares.
I could hear Potter shouting after me, but I couldn't stop, I could feel the fury bubbling in my blood stream, knowing it will combine with my magic to produce something potentially deadly. As I reached the prefect's bathroom the pounding increased, starting in my head and spreading through my body until I had no choice but to throw myself into the bathroom, letting my scream of rage out, as the shower rained fire onto the tiles and the large bath quickly filled with what looked like lava, before overflowing and coating the floor in the molten substance, giving the room an ominous red glow. As the feeling of pure rage subsided, I sat on the floor and began breathing deeply until the constant streams of flames stopped and the lava faded away. I eventually returned to Gryffindor Tower, embracing the calm after the storm of my first outburst of unintentional magic since I was 10 years old, and the worst of my life so far. It's at this point I wake up and attempt to console myself with the fact that thankfully no one was hurt.
However after that day my life at Hogwarts changed. It was later that night, sat by the fire with my best friends Alice and Marlene that I realised, I wasa mudblood, and proud of it, it was just a word and I shouldn't have to be ashamed of my heritage, which I was beginning to realise, I had been. If that was the label the junior death eaters wanted to give me then why give them the satisfaction of allowing them to let it cause me pain? Just because I had ignored the rumours surrounding Sev and his friends, it didn't mean I hadn't heard them. I didn't fail to notice that the end of my friendship with Severus had managed to coincide with the war finally reaching inside the walls of Hogwarts. So I manage to rise above the Pure blood mania, I don't let the words hurt me and I'm remarkably better for it, I no longer feel the dread of not being good enough and the constant need to prove myself that I have now come to associate with Severus' friendship.
Now 17 and being about to start my 7th and final year at the school I realise that my timing going to Hogwarts had been unfortunate. I had been thrown into a magical world I had no knowledge of while a war was in full swing. This war was based around contrasting views on my kind: muggles, mudbloods. My parents, who have lived through the second world war don't know about the war in the wizarding world, the way I see it, telling them of the raging war which happens to have striking similarities to the one they've only recently survived seems cruel. Besides, they would be unlikely to let me return to Hogwarts if they believed I wasn't safe and it would give Petunia an excuse for another rant about "disgusting, unnatural, freakish magic!"
After the incident at the lake I felt as if I had been confronted by the effects of the war, finally realising exactly what it meant for me. So by the time I returned for sixth year I decided to switch my focus from Potions and Charms to Defence Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration, no longer having the ambition I'd had since second year to become a Healer, instead I'm aiming to be an Auror when I graduate next July. Of course The Marauders don't approve of this, when have they ever approved of anything I've done? Apparently I don't have the nerve to excel in Defence, or the quick thinking apparently! I feel like all I heard sixth year from Black was "Back to your books Evans- leave the fighting to the men!" of course, I had my retorts ready for him!
Despite the massive changes that were occurring in my life, one of the few things that remained the same as ever was my intense dislike for James Potter. However, the unsettling fact was that what used to be the infamous Potter/Evans arguments that the student body had learnt the hard way to avoid at any cost, had since the Snape incident evaporated, replaced on his part, with awkward platitudes. The usual insults and the sarcastic remarks we had previously exchanged in lessons were left unspoken, leaving a light awkwardness felt by us both; which whilst still annoyed me to no end, didn't have the same heat between us that had used to leave me wondering how I had managed to refrain from hexing him into the middle of next week!
Needless to say there was something about James Potter. I had long since shrugged off the initial reaction to blame him for the demise of my friendship with Severus, but that day it was as if he had realised a line had been crossed, after that day The Marauders stopped the extra pranks on me, turning their attention to Marlene, Potter stopped asking me out, (something that he had been doing every day since I had come back to school in third year with boobs and a decent figure) and while there were obvious exceptions, I felt because of this I was no longer able to chastise them for most of their pranks. For once in his life, Potter was toeing the line around me, being overly cautious, aware of the consequences that day in fifth year had.
Since everyone else was also aware that he had pushed me too far that day and the of change between us since, most believed that the volatile nature of our relationship was over, that we were friends; only those who knew us best sensed the irritated tension that often arose, the bit back insults, the witty retorts swallowed. Occasionally, in the awkward silences that would have previously been filled with insults I can see a kind of passion in his eyes that I can't indentify and it makes me want to shake him until he just says what he's holding back. Of course this only further aggravates the prickling irritation that always comes with an encounter with Potter- and I think the real reason I so strongly dislike him more than anyone else is because of the difference in him around everyone else, around everyone else the laughter, the joking, the flirting, the teasing, the fierce loyalty and most of all the passion; the winning personality that makes all the other boys want to be him and all the girls fall at his feet, comes back in full force. It makes me feel like I draw the life out of him.
However as I walk through the barrier to board the train to Hogwarts for the final time I try to convince myself I've made my decision:
I really couldn't care less.
A/N: The rest of the story will be written in third person :)
