Eternal Soul

Redux of: How I Hate Him

By Lady of Masbolle

Disclaimer: I don't own Lily, James, Sirius, Remus or anyone you can recognise. I do, however, own characters you can't recognise, such as Ciara, Eleanor and Adele.

This is dedicated to the wonderful people who helped me re-write this chapter: Nelle, Nati, Kirstine, Chris and Beta. I love you!

"How the hell are we meant to raise 5 000 galleons for the orphanage?" the dark haired, cobalt eyed girl asked angrily, her normally sweet lilting voice harsh in frustration.

"And why did we sign a bloody binding contract?" sighed the normally affable blonde with hazel eyes hopelessly. She slumped on to the bed with tiredly.

The dark haired girl soon followed suit and collapsed on to her own bed. She gazed out of the window and onto the Hogwarts grounds, trying to find some inspiration – in whatever form it might come.

"Come on Ciara, we have to go to lunch." Muttered the blonde eventually, unfolding her long legs and standing up.

"Wait for about a second, will you Elle?" groaned Ciara. Her gaze rested on a shady oak tree, residing near the lake. Something vague stirred in her memory, but she couldn't quite pin down the exact image. It lurked, dancing just out of her reach, almost mocking her – she could feel it there, tantalizingly close – what was it about that tree?

"Damn it!" she cried in frustration, her hand hitting her pillow with a muffled 'thud.'

"Ciara?" called Eleanor from the corridor, sticking her puzzled face back around the door.

Ciara sighed. "Coming!" she called, falling off the edge of her bed. She stood up, tugged her skirt down, straightened her shirt and joined her friend in the corridor.

They came out of the portrait of Caradog the Clever, wandered round the corner and joined the usual crowds' of students heading towards the entrance hall.

It was said that they always stood out; the some-what klutzy black-haired Scottish girl and the supposedly elegant English blonde. They seemed like complete opposites, but they were the only ones who knew how similar they really were.

They made their way to the Gryffindor tables after spotting their friends – a red head and a brunette- sitting there. They may have stood out slightly, their dark-blue Ravenclaw ties contrasting against the usual crimson and gold Gryffindor ties, yet they seemed to melt in perfectly with the crowd. The students didn't mind and the teachers all turned a blind eye.

"…Sitting here today, are we?" asked Ciara, although it was clear from the food on her friends' plates that they would be remaining here.

The brunette, in the process of raising her fork to her lips, paused and mock glared at Ciara.

"Adele Clement, don't you look at me like that, young lady." Ciara replied sternly, although the effect was spoiled by the large smile on her face.

"It doesn't quite work with your accent, Ciara M'dear," said Eleanor, smiling at the display.

"Are you insulting my accent?" Ciara asked, feigning anger.

"Oh, shur'rup Ciara and eat some lunch," said the grinning brunette, through a mouthful of potato.

"As you say Milady." replied Ciara mock bowing, shuffling a place for herself between her friends.

The four of them - Ciara McEwen, Eleanor Windsor, Lily Evans and Adele Clement – were best friends, practically sisters. The difference in house wasn't even a minor barrier, and, since all of them were prefects, they resided in a dormitory separate from the usual house dorms which had a separate entrance and password, so, no one noticed a Ravenclaw Prefect in a Gryffindor Dorm or vice versa.

Ciara briefly glanced up at Lily, and the look on her normally amiable face would have been enough to stop a charging at 50 paces. She turned around and saw a certain dark-haired person walking past with his usual cult following.

The hazy memory that resided in Ciara's mind started to take shape….

-Flashback-

5th year

"Only 1 more day of exams until we're out of here," sighed Adele happily, stretching out flat on the soft grass with her eyes closed; relaxing in the cool shadows beneath the ancient oak tree.

"I'm going to Spain," Lily said irritably with a bored look, leaning against the tree's weathered trunk.

"You lucky bum! I wish we could go!" exclaimed Ciara.

"I wish you could go too – I'm stuck going to stuffy parties for the whole summer." She replied sadly.

"Merlin knows who you'll meet there… Probably some dishy Spanish guy…" said Eleanor with a dopey look on her face. This was quite unusual for the normally composed 16-year-old.

"Tell me if he has a brother." Adele said with a wink.

"Oh, I will," replied Lily with a laugh. "Hopefully he'll have a whole bunch of brothers to cater for your needs. Better still, you can have him."

"Aw, thanks Lils," said Adele, giving her friend a hug.

"Mind you Addy, you'll probably date some hot French guy this summer." Ciara said with her lilting voice

"Not if Grandmère's anywhere in sight".

Lily shuddered… "Argh. Grandmères. They force you to dance with some awful boy of their choice but if you even glance at some one else, they pounce on you. That works with the Spanish thing – 'not if Grandmere's anywhere in sight.'"

"Did you hear that?" asked Eleanor; a small frown marring her face.

"What?" Ciara asked, somewhat confusedly.

"Yeah, I hear it too," Lily answered, standing up. "I'll be right back."

She wandered to towards sound, and found herself hiding near the Whomping Willow.

"… Merlin, Padfoot. What the hell is wrong with you?"

Sirius laughed nervously, "C'mon, Prongs, that was just an innocent joke!"

"… Innocent my arse. It could have gotten us killed!" replied James angrily.

"Oh, come off it. You're just jealous 'cause all the birds came to me after that."

"I AM NOT BLOODY JEALOUS!"

"Well then, why the hell are you acting like you are?

James threw a punch at Sirius' head – Sirius ducked just in time – so that James' fist skimmed his darkly elegant hair.

Lily stepped out from behind the Whomping Willow, the expression on her face was an unknown combination.

James stopped abruptly and raked a hand through his hair. He greeted her with the same, age-old expression which usually brought back dire memories.

"All right, Evans?" said James, and the tone of his voice was suddenly pleasant, deeper, more mature.

"Leave him alone," Lily repeated. She was looking at James with every sign of great dislike. "What's he done to you?"

"Nothing to worry your pretty little head over," he replied, shooting her a charismatic grin.

Little did they know they had an audience, hidden behind where Lily was once hiding – The Whomping Willow.

"Bad idea Potter." Ciara muttered, as Lily clenched her fists.

"Extremely bad idea." murmured Adele, intent on watching the exchange of words.

"You think you're so superior to everyone, Potter," she said coldly, "But you're just an arrogant, narcissistic prat. Leave him alone, Potter, or you won't have any friends left to beat up."

His jaw dropped in surprise, but he quickly replied to her furious onslaught on words. "I will if you go out with me, Evans. Go on… go out with me and I'll never beat up poor iddle Sirius again," he said, shooting his best friend a malicious look.

-End Flashback-

"I have an idea." Ciara said quietly to Eleanor. She then continued to whisper the rest of the idea into Eleanor's ear.

A grin slowly spread across Elle's face. "Perfect."

"Tell Addy, will you?" Ciara asked. "We need her help."

"Of course – I'll do it later." Elle replied, her hazel eyes twinkling in a Dumbledore like fashion.

He's two inches, maybe three, over six foot. His fairly broad shoulders and leanly muscled body make most girls, and some women (like our astronomy teacher) lose control of their senses, and his stylishly messy ebony-coloured hair, mischievous hazel eyes and charismatic smile only add to his irresistible charm.

He plays Quidditch, and switches between the positions of Chaser and Seeker. Most people regard him as the future of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, (including his best friend and fellow quidditch player, Sirius Black.)

Include being more than extremely rich, the ex-Minister of Magic's (in England and in Ireland) Grandson, the son of a brilliant auror and world diplomat to the list, and it's no wonder that practically and army of swooning girls follow him where ever he goes.

That's on top of being fluent in 6 languages French, Spanish, Italian, Latin, Gaelic and Welsh apart from English.

So it's no wonder why some muggleborn witches regard him as a wizarding 'Romeo', and most teen witches think of him as god's gift to women. Then, of course, there's that extremely large section of wizards that predict him leading the English Quidditch team to victory (but let's not go into that.)

We, Ciara, Eleanor, Lily and I, regard him as James Potter.

Well, maybe in Lily's case it's just "Potter."

Or "the bullying toerag", "bloody twit", "He-who-has-his-head-stuck-up-his-arse."

But we'll stick to it as "James Potter."

Oh, and Lily never swears in public, so most people wouldn't be familiar with the 2nd and last nicknames.

However, they're exceedingly well acquainted with the first.

Merlin… How do we get the self-confessed and only loather of James Potter in this bloody universe to go out with him?

Hmm…

Here's an idea: Use the charity part and play the guilt card.

Ahh, the good old guilt card.

That's one thing I'm very well acquainted with.

The last Five minutes of Lily's Persuasion:

"Absolutely not. There is no bloody way I'm going out with him," said Lily, shaking her head so furiously Ciara feared that she would develop some sort of spinal problem.

"We need 5 000 galleons, Lils, and quickly." She pleaded, "Just give it a go."

"We've spend 3 bloody weeks trying to think of a solution and this is the only thing we've been able to come up with" added Eleanor, desperately.

"Well that's your own fault."

"Its for an orphanage – we couldn't help but say yes to raising money for those poor, innocent, orphaned, homeless children."

Lily winced. Homeless. It wasn't her fault she had several extremely-larger-than-average homes and that one was practically bigger than Buckingham Palace. Richard Evans was extremely generous, but getting rid of one of his homes was not exactly at the top of his priority list.

Well. She could do whatever she could for those poor people, even if it meant dating Potter for a while.

"And if I agreed, how exactly would you raise the money?"

"Betting."

"…But that's-"

"It's for children, Lils."

She cringed, before replying. "I know, I know."

"So your answer is…?"

"Okay."

"Goodie," replied Adele with a devious grin.

The three girls quickly disappeared for a "walk," leaving Lily to contemplate her decision in silence.

Damn bloody Ciara! Damn Elle! Why should I have to date that self-absorbed arsehole?

Because of the orphanage. Of course. There's no other bloody way I would ever date him.

Having money doesn't make you're life perfect. It probably makes you vulnerable in some other aspects of life. For instance, when I see poverty, like in India, or Africa, I tend to cringe.

That's people like me. Insensitive Twits like Potter would probably laugh manically and dangle a hundred pound note out of their reach.

I mean galleon.

Hold on a minute, how do you dangle a hundred galleons put of someone's reach?

Oh yeah, a money pouch.

But then how do people know its a hundred galleons?

A translucent money pouch.

And they would have to waste even more galleons getting one made.

What a waste.

I've noticed that richer people like wasting more money on stupid things.

Well I don't like wasting money. Isn't this stupid? The fact that I betray my own observation?

Why am I thinking about all this drivel?

Oh, Merlin… Imagine if Grandmère could hear this.

I would be royally screwed.

I mean, we can't go thinking about disgustingly frilly dresses and boring socialite events all the time, now can we?

Mind you, I swear then too. In Welsh. No one understands. Unless of course I'm in Wales.

Then I swear in Italian.

It's lucky that I know languages. Then I can swear at James all I want.

Where did James suddenly come from?

Merlin, I'm calling him James and I'm not even dating him yet.

Dating? Where to all these abysmal thoughts come from? It's not like I'm looking forward to it.

Do Not Answer That.

It's official – I've gone abso-blooming-lutely bonkers.

Now, where's that mental institution?

…Oh Merlin. What have I gotten myself into?

"No Mandy, I will NOT go out with you!" answered an extremely fractious James Potter as he walked out of Transfiguration.

The crushed blonde closed her mouth and stormed off to sulk in private.

"Merlin, Sirius why are they so bloody clingy?" asked James, slinging his bag on to his shoulder with one hand and gently massaging his temple with the other.

"I can't wait until the exams are over." Sirius said with a tired sigh as he rubbed his eyes.

"They haven't even begun yet," replied Remus, joining the pair.

"I know – but – it's just so bloody stressful!" Sirius groaned.

"James!" A high, cringe-worthy voice shrieked.

"Jamie!" another voice shrieked. It was a higher pitch than the previous voice if that was even possible.

"Remind me to get earplugs," Sirius said, wincing.

'Merlin's bloody beard! What on earth have I done to deserve this torture?' James thought to himself as he came to the portrait of the fat lady.

"Password?" she asked in her usual demeanour.

"Sotto Voce" answered James dryly. He didn't see the point of enforcing the "Be quiet and study" rule through Italian passwords. No one, except a select few who understood Italian would even realise that "sotto voce" meant "with a soft voice"

Even if he agreed with the meaning of the Password, it didn't stop ditzy teenage girls screaming his name in the common room to his obvious irritation.

He didn't want a leggy blonde, or a voluptuous brunette. They weren't his type.

Truth be told, he didn't have a type – just a sole woman who was permanently ingrained in his thoughts.

And if you weren't that fiery red-haired, emerald-eyed female, then you have absolutely no chance.

I can never get away from this cursed castle. I can never imagine or ever have time to myself – it's almost like I'm a wild animal kept in a cage for everyone to fawn over.

And I don't enjoy it one bit.

But flying – it's something different. It's just the air and you.

No Irritating girls, no forceful grandmothers, no stuffy dinners or social events.

Like I said, it's just the air and you.

Maybe that's why I like it so much.

Flying at a seriously high speed is oddly calming and mind-blowing at the same time. I suppose it's all the adrenaline that rushed to your head.

For some reason unknown to me, it's easier sorting out my thoughts when I'm in the middle of performing a supposedly dangerous stunt in the air than when I'm sitting in the common room, or lying down on my bed.

Must I add that those thoughts are generally about a certain redhead?

And no, that's not Amelie, you twit.

It's Lily. Lily Evans.

Oh, Merlin.

There are 2 possible things that you're thinking right now:

This has psycho teen stalker written all over it.

Or

So he only thinks about 2 things: a girl and flying. How idiotic.

I'm not that stupid, or that shallow.

Sirius might be though. Just joking.

I think he's getting a flat this summer.

I know we're going to Ireland this summer - to visit Grandma and Grandda, remember?

I can't remember what it's like – the last time I went there I was very young – about 5 or so.

Yet I still know Gaelic.

Odd.

I have a feeling that this is going to be an incredibly interesting summer.

Either that or a complete bore.

A/N: This was my first LJ fic – it had an ok plot but the way it was written was incredibly disgusting. So I decided to re-write it. I'm just angry that no-one told me how crappy this was the first time around…

Thank-you for reading and reviewing!

-Lady of Masbolle-