I had always lived in my cousin Rose's shadow. She was older, prettier, and much more popular than me. Though she was my only friend, when I was younger I never really could get over the fact that I was the smaller version of her in every way. Rose was tall, with bright orange hair and green eyes, where I was short, with light strawberry-blonde hair, and green eyes.
When I was with my cousin, (which was most of the time before Hogwarts started..) I was always cast aside by others- no one paid attention to me, and I learned to expect that from them. Rose was my only friend, while I was only a minor friend from her large group of buddies.
The only time I felt comfortable to be myself was when I was alone. There I felt that I couldn't be judged every moment. While in front of people, I was quiet, passive, and agreeable. When I was alone it was only slightly different; I liked singing when I was alone. No one had ever heard me, except for Rose of course. She sometimes would barge into my room at the most unexpected times, and I was caught off-guard.
When I came to Hogwarts for the first time, my cousin was in her second year, and was already the center of attention. At first I tried desperately to meet the standards for being her friend, but one day she took me aside.
"Look, Lily," Rose had said to me. "During the summer we're always friends, but here its different- I can't be seen hangin' out with a first year." Her words stung, but I pretended to agree.
"Oh- that's fine," I had said in a subdued voice, forcing a smile. She beamed before bouncing off towards her waiting group of friends, and I didn't dare follow.
After Rose had told me the truth about how she felt about me, I became a complete outsider- I didn't talk to anyone apart from the teachers, and occasionally to my room-mates. When I was alone I would sometimes cry, and write long stories about this-and-that.
Writing became my passion in life. I wrote stories, essays, and poems. My shabby notebook that I had gotten as a birthday present when I was six got full of compositions very quickly, and I continued to buy more, and as time went by, I even wrote songs.
When I came back to Hogwarts for my second year on the Hogwarts Express, I didn't know where to sit- last year I had sat with Rose, but this time I felt utterly lost. I wandered around idly as the compartments got filled up with chattering students with their friends.
Only once did I catch a glimpse of my cousin, and she was laughing and joking with her very-large group of friends. Like usual, I thought with a sigh. I didn't try to stick myself to her.
I had no hope in finding an empty compartment- they had all been filled, or at least had one or two people in them. The train whistled, warning the students that it was going to leave, and the ushers from the train walked up and down, making sure the hallways were cleared. I was left standing vulnerably by myself, as one of the ushers approached, her eyes narrowed.
"What are you doing out?" the woman barked at me, and I flinched away at her tone.
"I- I-" I couldn't find words to express why I was still out here.
The woman picked up my suitcase, and marched me up to the front-direction of the train, and for a second I was worried that she would throw me off. "Here- you can sit in here." She said harshly, opening a door to a compartment, and stuffing my suitcase on the rack above the chairs. I hoped desperately that there weren't too many people inside.
Seeing that I wasn't making any effort to go near the compartment, the woman pushed me inside, and I sat down, my cheeks containing a faint pink tinge.
The door shut with a snap, making me jump slightly. For a while I didn't dare look up to see who was sitting there, afraid they might make fun of me, which was a hobby many students enjoyed.
Finally, mustering up my courage, I looked up. A boy sat across from me. He had blonde hair and gray eyes. I recognized him at once- he was the boy that Rose had a crush on. Scorpius Malfoy, I thought grimly. He was an outsider like me, though many people would usually badger him because his family was very rich.
I sighed with relief, for Scorpius wasn't a bully, and he was quiet, like me.
Scorpius was fast asleep, his head leaning against the window. He was wearing his school robes, and his blonde hair was slicked back slightly, as if he had just washed it.
I didn't dare make very much noise, not wanting to wake him. Quickly I took out my note-book and a pencil, and began to write.
He didn't wake up until the lunch trolley arrived.
I didn't notice him move, for I was so lost in what I was writing. When he yawned and stretched, I jumped from shock. He saw my reaction and smiled.
For a moment I was scared that he might bully me, but anxiety seemed to disappear when I saw his smile- it was so sincere and happy, that it was contagious.
"You're Lily Potter, aren't you?" Scorpius asked, still smiling.
I nodded. "Yes," I said, my voice shaking slightly. "You're Scorpius Malfoy," I said, thrilled at how my voice was clear and stronger.
He frowned slightly, having misread the tone in my voice. "There's nothing wrong with my name," he began in a slightly defensive tone.
I blinked. "No, of course not!" I said quickly.
He shrugged slightly, and glanced down at my lap, where my large notebook was. "Are you doing homework?" he asked curiously. "I didn't bother with mine- I can do them quickly tomorrow morning." He mused.
"No, I finished my homework last month," I said. "I'm writing a story," I said slowly and deliberately.
He blinked. "What's it about?" he asked curiously.
I debated whether or not I should tell him. What if he makes fun of it? I asked myself. I didn't really think he would make fun of it- he seemed nice and sincere.
"Its about a girl who lives by herself in the arctic," I said finally.
Scorpius seemed intrigued. "By herself? With no parents or anything?" he asked incredulously.
"Her parents are dead," I told him. "She doesn't have any friends- everyone thinks she's strange..." My voice trailed off, and I hoped I hadn't made him think that I was strange myself.
"That sounds really cool," Scorpius said, his eyes bright. "Is this the first time you're writing a story?" he asked conversationally.
I shook my head. "I write all the time," I said, smiling slightly. "I love writing."
Scorpius grinned when he saw me smile. "Can I read one of your stories one day?" he asked hopefully.
I stopped dead. No one had ever read my stories, so I hadn't ever received any feed-back. "I-" I stuttered. "Sure," I said finally. I could always hope that after we stopped at Hogwarts he would forget about it.
He continued to smile. "Cool," he said, scratching the back of his head thoughtfully. "I don't write very much- I'm more of the artistic kind." He joked.
"Writing is a form of art," I pointed out.
Scorpius nodded. "Yeah, but I meant I like drawing." He shrugged, turning a faint shade of pink. "Most people think drawing is for girls..." His voice trailed off, and he looked away, embarrassed.
I shook my head. "Drawing isn't for girls!" I exclaimed. "Some of the most famous artists were male."
"I know, but..." Again he was at a loss for words. "I'm not ever going to bed famous- my drawing sucks." He made a face.
I laughed, something I usually didn't do in public. "Can I see?" I asked.
Scorpius seemed slightly shocked that someone was interested in his art. "Really? Most people don't like seeing my art," he muttered, but he was already rummaging around in his trunk, looking for his sketch book.
I waited patiently until he emerged again, grasping a medium-sized sketch book. It was very battered, like my writing note-books. He handed it to me. "Don't make fun of it," he warned.
I took the book, and smiled reassuringly at him. "I would never do that!" I exclaimed, putting the book on my lap. I opened it up, and my eyes widened.
I found myself staring at the most beautiful drawing ever- it was of a landscape, with a large lake in the distance. The picture seemed to jump off of the page it was so realistic. I seemed to be gazing at photograph. "That's amazing," I breathed, staring as if I were hypnotized. The sun was shining on the water, making the lake seem to glow and shine.
Scorpius smiled slightly. "Thanks," he said, his eyes bright. "I draw things that inspire me..."
I turned the page in the book delicately, not wanting to accidently rip the page. The next picture in the book was of a woman. It was done with only pencil, making it seem black-and-white. She was gazing out into the distance, a single tear streaking down her cheek. The picture was so breath-taking, that I was transfixed.
"That's my mom," Scorpius said, motioning to the woman in the painting. "This was when my dad died."
I choked slightly. "Your father died? That's awful." I felt horrible for him- my father held such an important role in my life, that I couldn't imagine how my life would be without him.
Scorpius didn't betray any emotion, though I knew he felt sorrow within him. "Yeah, I was ten."
I blinked. "You drew this when you were ten?" I asked in amazement.
He nodded. "Its not one of my best ones- I think my drawing has improved."
"Wow," I repeated. "You're an artist." I turned the page again, looking down at the sad woman once more.
The next painting was of a casket. It too was in only pencil, making the portrait seem dreary and depression. Despite the sorrow it portrayed, it was beautiful as well. A single rose was laid delicately on the top of the lid. A woman stood not far away, and I realized it was the same woman that was in the other portrait; Scorpius' mother. She stood with many other people, though her face was the only one visible within the blur that Scorpius had created. She was looking down, her eyes closed.
Scorpius watched my reaction closely, as if afraid I was going to say that his beautiful portraits were frightful.
"This is beautiful," I said, my own yes pooling with tears. I quickly turned the page, not wanting to look at the picture anymore in fear that I would burst into tears.
The next picture in the book was happier- it was of a kitten, its tiny paw reaching through the bars of its cage. Again this painting seemed to be a photo it looked so beautiful. "Is this your cat?" I asked.
"Yeah," Scorpius nodded. "His name's Noel." He smiled at the thought of the little cat. "I got him for my mom, you know, to make her feel better after..." He couldn't finish his sentence, though I knew what he meant.
This painting was in color, making it seem like a photograph that you would see in a calendar. It seemed so realistic that Rose was tempted to reach out and stroke the painting.
"He's beautiful," I said, smiling. He returned the smile, and motioned me to turn the page again.
I obliged, turning the page again. I was looking at a painting of Scorpius himself. I glanced up at the real Scorpius, comparing the similarities.
"It looks just like you!" I complimented.
He smiled. "That one was hard, I had to do it facing a mirror." He grimaced at the memory. "It was really difficult not to move for a few hours." He laughed.
I turned the page again, and a smile lit up my face. The painting was merely of a cat paw-print, smudged slightly.
"I dipped Noel's paw in paint and stuck it there," Scorpius laughed. "He wasn't too happy about it."
Again I laughed, imagining how the fluffy cat would have protested.
"There are more, but you can see them some other time," Scorpius said. He seemed to want to do something else- perhaps his homework he had neglected.
"Okay," I agreed quickly, though I wanted to spend a long time looking at his beautiful paintings. "I really love how you draw," I said, trying to make him see how much I had enjoyed looking at his work.
A smile lit up his face. "Thanks!" he exclaimed. "I usually don't show my paintings to anyone."
I nodded, feeling honored that he had chosen me to show them too. "Thanks for showing them to me,"
He sat back in his chair again, casting his sketch-pad to the open seat next to him. "So," he said, glancing out the window. "This is your second year going to Hogwarts, right?" He seemed to want to talk, which surprised me.
"Yes," I said quickly. He was in third year. "Do you like Hogwarts, or do you find it boring?"
Scorpius looked thoughtful. "I love hanging out there, but sometimes I don't like how they give so much homework."
I nodded. "I don't mind the homework much- but it is annoying sometimes."
Scorpius was silent for a while. "You don't have many friends, do you?" His tone wasn't accusing, just faintly curious.
"No," I said, looking down at my feet. The shyness I usually obtained crept into me again. "No one likes hanging out with me much." I didn't want him to feel sorry for me- just wanted him to understand that it wasn't me that was anti-social.
"Why not?" He seemed honestly confused. "I know I just met you and all, but you seem really..." He searched for the right words the say. "...Likable." He finished.
I was slightly shocked; this was the first compliment I had ever recieved that didn't come from my family. "Thanks," I said happily, though I didn't show my emotion through my voice. "You seem really pleasant too."
He grinned. "Thanks!" He stuffed his hands into his robe pockets. "Hey- what if we hung out together in Hogwarts?" he asked hopefully.
Was he serious? "You really mean it?" I breathed, my heart skipping a beat.
"Sure! Why not?" He seemed as eager as I was.
"I'd love to hang out with you!" I exclaimed. My heart was beating so fast I wouldn't be surprised if it burst out of my chest.
Scorpius was still smiling. "But you're in Gryffindor," He said suddenly. "I'm in Ravenclaw." He seemed upset.
Was this his way of saying he re-thought? "I wouldn't mind hanging out with you, even if we're in different houses." I said boldly.
His smile returned. "Great! I was afraid you'd be unwilling to hang out with someone from another house." He looked out the window for a while. "I don't understand why some people are like that." He said finally.
I nodded. "My brother thinks that all Slytherins are scum." I made a face. "I don't agree with him on that- everyone should be treated equal."
He nodded. "Yeah! I hate when people are prejudice against someone because of their house. I mean before- when the war was going on- I can sort of understand, but now it makes no sense."
"Yes," I agreed. "Some people dislike other houses because their parents were like that."
Scorpius nodded. "Our parents were from different houses, and they didn't like each other."
I looked away, feeling uncomfortable. My uncle Ron had always spoken badly about Draco Malfoy, and Harry would usually agree with him. "Yeah," I murmured. I didn't want to offend him by saying what my parent's opinions were.
As if he were sensing my discomfort, Scorpius changed the subject. "Do you think we'll be arriving at Hogwarts soon?" he wondered.
I shrugged, glancing out of the window. It was dusk, and I was slightly shocked to see how time had flew with him. "Maybe in an hour," I estimated. "I should go put my robes on." I stood up and took my trunk down from the luggage rack.
Scorpius watched me, looking inside of my trunk as I opened it. It was mostly full of notebooks that I had used in the past, and he smiled. "Are those your school books?" he asked politely. They were battered and full of splotches where I had tested my quills.
"No," I laughed slightly. "My notebooks." I pulled one out, and handed it to Scorpius. "That's my poem book," I said, as he took the book and turned it over so he could read the title. "You can read some while I'm gone," I allowed, picking up my robes and heading for the door.
He seemed thrilled. "Okay!" he exclaimed, plopping down onto his seat again and opening my shabby book. "Seeya soon, Lily!" he called as I shut the door behind me.
I liked how he said my name. It wasn't jeering or unfriendly as most others would say it; it was sincere and nice. It made me smile slightly.
When I returned, I found him still reading from the book. He had a delighted expression on his face, and he glanced up when I came in. "These are amazing!" he exclaimed. "I love the one about the feather." He turned pages back to the poem that was about the feather that fell from far above.
I smiled and sat down next to him. "Thanks," I said. "I wrote that one last month."
He glanced over at me. "You wrote this whole book since last month?" He seemed amazed; the book had been more than half-way filled out, and this poem was at the beginning. "You write fast!"
"Thanks," I said again, smiling.
He continued to read, smiling and pointing a few details that he liked out. We talked for a long time, and I began to enjoy his company very much.
And so, it was the beginning of a new era, and to my pleasure, this era contained a friend.