A/N: This has taken me so long to write! I prbably could've gotten it out a couple days ago, but I wanted to check some things over, and , yeah. Idid, and it's out now, and I'm so very very proud of it, you won't believe. So, yeah. It's a rather strange one-shot. At first it was going to be 7 chapters, but they were too short to be chapters, so I just made them into one long one-shot.
Disclaimer: I only taken credit for the plot and writing style.
When I was 5, I was a princess.
"Mummy! Petunia hurt me!" The small red-head shrieked, crying fake tears.
My favorite days were spent in my Garage-sale princess dress and my cardboard crown. I would dance around the house, pretending to be in my own fantasy world, where Daddy didn't go away so much, and Mummy was always home.
"Petunia! Don't pick on your sister! Lily, are you all right?" The mom said, picking the girl up and holding her in her arms.
I would wear that dress until it became dirty and muddy - and even then, I would shriek and cry when Mummy tried to take it off. I loved that dress. In it, I was a princess.
"Petunia!" Go to your room!" The Mom said, and the seven year old blonde stormed off to her room in a seven year old rage.
I knew I was always Mummy's favorite, but it didn't matter as long as I could dance around in my Princess dress and pretend to be somewhere and someone I wasn't.
The small red-head then snuggled into her mum's arms, but only for a short moment, for the next second the mom said, "I have to go now, love, your Nana will be here soon."
I had a different Nana every month, and none of them ever knew how to be a Princess. I liked to pretend that my Nana at that time was the evil Witch who, if she caught me, would lock me up in a tower or cook me up for supper. It was great fun, but Nanas were never good at such games. They always won.
The mother sat the small red-head down on the beat-up couch, and the five-year old began to cry. The mom, with a sigh, snuck out the door and drove off for work, knowing the Nana would be there soon.
When I was five, I wanted desperately to be a princess, but I never seemed to get what I wanted.
When I was seven, I met a Knight.
A car pulled up in the driveway, and the red-head sitting next to the brunette boy jumped up excitedly. "Daddy's Home!" She squealed.
Davey Smark was my best friend and next-door neighbor. Whenever I could, I would go over to his house, and we would hide in this corner of his back yard and pretend that I was the Damsel in Distress, and he was the noble prince coming to save me.
She ran out the fence and to the driveway, where a man stood arguing with the woman next to him. The red-head ran up and gave the man a big hug around the legs.
Davey always knew how to pretend right, and when I was with him, everything seemed perfect.
"Why are you doing this George!" The woman asked loudly. "What about our kids? What are they supposed to do when we split up?"
Sometimes, it wasn't just pretend. Sometimes, Davey was my knight in shining armor. Sometimes, he did save me.
"They'll still see me on weekends, Violet. I'm not saying goodbye forever, I'm just saying-"
Davey had been right there for me, crushing me in a pure hug between friends. Davey, being two years older, knew what had happened.
"Go, George," the woman said. The red-head, still hugging her father's legs without a reply, looked up at her confused. "I signed your papers. You can go now."
Davey hadn't told me then, but everything in his family wasn't going so well either.
'Violet -" The man began.
Davey and his family had moved away about a month after my Dad left us.
"Go," the woman interrupted. "Just Go."
To this day, I don't think that I had ever cried so hard.
The red-head, sensing something, let go of the man's legs, and the man got back into the car. He drove away, leaving the woman with her two daughters, standing alone on the front lawn.
When I was seven, I met a knight, but lost my King.
When I was nine, I was de-throned.
"Lily you're going to be late for your bus!" The woman called out through the box-filled house.
We had just moved to a new, smaller, house. My mom had worked hard to keep our old one, but couldn't manage to afford it. I didn't mind. At the time, I was thinking that I was just changing Kingdoms. I could still be a Princess.
"Coming, Mummy!" the red-headed nine-year old girl called from down the hall where she shared the small bedroom with her 11-year old sister. The nine-year old was decked out in a grubby dress, with an old hand-me-down jacket over her. She tumbled down the hall.
I always knew our family was different, but I loved it none-the-less. It didn't matter then that Mummy worked all the time, or I only saw Daddy once a year, or Petunia still hated me, all that mattered was I still had my imagination, and my old, worn-out Princess dress.
The bus honked outside, and the red-head ran out the door, as fast as her small legs could carry her. In her hand, she clutched her princess back-pack and a brown paper lunch-bag. She climbed quickly onto the bus.
I had never seen anything wrong with my Fantasy life. I liked to be a Princess, and people got that. Kids at the other school didn't care, but these kids were different - way different.
The kids in the seats laughed at the red-head. They all wore perfectly pressed clothes, and brand new packs, fit for the biggest things they'd ever need to carry. The red-head walked all the way down the aisles, not knowing why everyone was laughing at her, until she finally found a seat at the back, next to a girl with perfectly curled blonde hair and a pink, flowery dress.
If I had known then what type of person that girl I sat next to was, I wouldn't've asked the next question, but, desperate for friends, and still very naive, I did.
"Are you a princess too?" The red-head asked. The blonde looked over, smirked, then started laughing at the red-head. Soon, the whole bus was laughing, some were even jeering at her.
That was how the rest of the year was. Kids would laugh in the halls, or whisper things behind my back. That year was when I realized I could never go back to my other life - my fantasy.
The red-head began to cry, holding her hands to her eyes to block the tears, sending the bus into more hysterical laughter.
Sometimes, kids can be really cruel.
The bus-driver, sitting in the front, sighed. The red-head continued to cry, most likely wetting the seat, meaning that he'd have to go back and clean it up.
When I was nine, I was de-throned, and never got back up.
When I was eleven, something magical happened.
The doorbell rang in the now-very-much-lived-in house. "LILY! GET THE DOOR!" The blonde thirteen year-old with a horse-like face yelled out from the couch where she was watching TV.
I was very much changed, then. After my fantasy life ended, I put away all my dolls and dived headfirst into reading.
The red-head ran up to the door and opened it, surprised to see a man standing out there, wearing a funny type of dress.
I didn't have any friends except for the characters in my books. So, I would lock myself in my room and read for hours on end. I always loved reading all the fantasy books. They were my favorites.
"Hello, are you Lily Evans?" the strangely dressed man asked.
While everyone else would play at Recess, I would work in the library, or sit reading by myself on one of the benches. I didn't need friends, they would only laugh at me some more.
The red-head nodded shyly.
In books and fairytales, dreams would come true, and sometimes, when I knew I was all alone, I secretly wished mine would come true, too.
"Lily? Have you ever heard of a place called Hogwarts?"
When I was eleven, something magical happened that would change my whole life forever.
When I was thirteen, I faced a Dragon.
"Hey look! It's Princess Evans!" A bespeckled boy with untamable black hair yelled out, standing behind the thirteen year-old girl. "Make way for Princess Evans!" The boy jeered, tugging on the red-head's red braids.
James Potter was the bane of my existence, my arch-enemy, the ruthless foe. If I was Cinderella, he'd be an evil stepsister. If I was Hercules, he'd be Hera. Need I go on?
"Cut it out Potter," The red-head said timidly, clutching her books to her chest. "Please."
He made my early days at Hogwarts awful. Everyone would pick on me, and no one would be my friend because they were all afraid he would start picking on them too.
"Cut it out, Potter, please," the bespeckled boy said in a soprano voice, clearly mocking the red-head.
So, I dug further into my books. But, this time, I would read books on magic. On spells, on whatever I could get my hands on.
"Leave me alone!" The red-head said a little louder, stopping in her tracks.
I quickly rose to the top of my class. All the teacher's adored me, and I was known for being a kind of Teacher's pet and a bookworm.
"Or what?" the teenage bully asked. "You'll get precious Slughorn to give me detention?"
I learned things in these books, not Dark magic, I would never do Dark magic, but jinxes, curses, hexes, that none of them had ever seen before. And when I got mad, my brain used this knowledge in ways I never would've used them had I been thinking properly.
The red-head whipped out her wand, and made a slashing movement with it, not saying any words. With a yell of anguish, the messy-haired boy clutched at his eyes yelling "My Eyes! I can't see! I'm blind!"
Sometimes, I didn't regret the things I did. Sometimes, I wouldn't cry. Sometimes, I didn't have any tears left.
A look of horror danced across the red-head's face, before, sobbing, her books still held tight in her hands, she pushed through the crowd and ran off down the hall.
When I was 13, I faced a Dragon I didn't know how to properly tame.
When I was 15, I began to regain my throne.
"Have a good break, children!" an old, fat, balding man shouted out to his class as they all dashed out of the classroom. One red-head remained behind, and a messy-haired boy waited in the doorway.
Something happened in my 5th year. I suddenly developed, and then quickly found the girls in my dorm to be much more friendlier - and the "Marauders" as they called themselves, to have given up on bullying me. I was almost popular, and I didn't like it.
"Miss Evans, why are you still here?" The old professor asked the red-head.
The only good part about my new-found popularity is that I could study with Remus Lupin, my long-time crush. We had been working on Potions at the time, and I wanted to check something beforehand.
"Sorry Professor," the red-head began, "I just wanted to ask. Um, do you think that if you tried changing which way you mixed the Draught of Living Death, it would work better?"
I did enjoy our studying sessions, Remus was very smart, so he didn't slack off like some others I had tried to study with earlier. All the girls in my dorm were hopeless with stuff like studying.
"I doubt it, Miss Evans, but if you wanted to try, I wouldn't stop you."
Potions and Charms were my best subjects. I never really needed to study for them. But time with Remus was never wasted.
"Thank you Professor Slughorn!" The red-head said, throwing her bag over her shoulder. The bespeckled boy in the door-way rolled his eyes. "I will!"
One of the main problems with my popularity was that it came with James Potter. The bane of my existence.
The red-head left the classroom, blatantly avoiding the boy in the doorway. "Evans!" the boy called as he ran after her, "Hey, Evans!"
He insisted he wanted me to go out with him to Hogsmeade or wherever the Marauders would take their dates.
"What, Potter?" The red-head asked spitefully, throwing his arm, (from where he had thrown it around her shoulder) off of her.
I never believed him.
"Evans, go out with me?" The boy asked, walking persistently next to her.
I could never get over the way he would taunt me, he was an immature prat, and Princesses, (even if they were de-throned) shouldn't lower themselves to that level.
"How many times do I have to say this?" the red-head asked. "No, Potter."
But, sometimes, I sort of felt bad for treating him so badly. Sometimes, I actually thought of saying "Yes."
"But, Evans!" The boy exclaimed.
But then I would see him treat someone else badly, as he once did to me, and my resolve to make things better between us left me in a flash, and I became angry once again.
"I said no, Potter." The red-head said spitefully, leaving the boy left alone in the abandoned hallway. As soon as the red-head passed a corner, the boy sighed, scuffed a foot on the floor, and turned around and began to walk in the opposite direction.
When I was 15, I learned that each throne had a price.
When I was 17, I had my fairytale romance.
"You know, Lily," A sandy-haired sallow-looking boy said, sitting up from his hunched-over position, "James hasn't done anything awful all year. He's working extra-hard, now."
I had soon got over my crush on the brilliant Remus Lupin when he began to go out with one of the girls in my year. I was heart-broken, I admit it, but it was easy to get over. We became simply very good friends.
"I noticed," the red-head said softly, hunched over her homework.
Through this friendship, I began to know James a little better. He had changed, and that, even if I pretended it didn't, meant a lot to me.
"Good," the boy said, standing up from his homework. He threw his bag over his shoulder. "I need to get back now. Sirius said he was planning something. I need to go stop it."
Potter had made Head boy this year. At first I was outraged, and convinced myself that he had bought his way in. But, as we began to work together more, I realized that he did make a responsible Head boy. And this was what started the change.
"Okay," the red-head said, looking up from her homework. "Bye Remus!"
I began to call him James when he had began to call me Lily. One of my friends, (the one that was going out Remus) had told me that it was only fair to call him by his first name in return. I agreed.
She sat alone for several moments, until a messy-haired boy with large glasses came up to her table. "Hey, Lily," the boy said softly.
I hadn't noticed the change in him until one day, when I caught Sirius out in the hall planning some prank with Peter Pettigrew, I went to give him a detention, but James came up and, ignoring Sirius' and Peter's protests, gave them both month-long detentions and took off some House Points. Sirius hadn't spoken to James for days.
The red-head didn't look up. "Good evening, James."
I began to see him in a different light. And sometimes, I could begin to imagine us at Hogsmeade, holding hands, or talking over Butterbeers. And sometimes, when I imagined these, I began to want it, and dream about it. Countless nights, I lay awake, not wanting to dream about him.
The boy sat down in the empty chair with a hesitant look on his face. When the red-head didn't look up, he began. "Um, Look, Lily. I know you don't like me and all that, but I needed to try one last time. If you say 'No' again, I'll leave you alone," the boy spared a glance from his hands to look up at the girl. She had stopped writing, but she hadn't looked up. "But, Lily, I really hope you say 'Yes', because I really think I, um, well, I think I love you Lily. And that's a truly terrifying thought because I've never felt this way about anyone else before and I – Well, I guess I'm rambling, but I didn't mean to ramble and I only wanted to say that - But, I've already said it, haven't it? Well, I've said my part, and I'm truly sorry if I just wasted your time."
I found myself wanting to be around him. And, under the pretense of wanting to hang out with my friend, (remember the one that was dating Remus?) I began to hang out with his lot more often.
The red-head looked up, a slight smile on her face. "Okay," she said softly.
The scary part was, I really enjoyed it. And, soon, I began to do it unintentionally. Sit a little closer to him in Transfiguration, switch seats with my friend so I could be nearer to him, and make -up duties I needed to talk to him about.
The boy looked up quickly, "What?" he asked.
And soon, I found myself wanting to say yes, and I had promised myself that I would, when he finally stopped asking me out. I waited for 3 months before he asked me again.
"Okay, I'll go out with you," the red-head said at a normal tone of voice. "I haven't anyone to go with to Hogsmeade this weekend, so . . ."
He never had to ask again.
But the boy was already jumping up and down whooping and hollering with joy, so he didn't hear the rest. But he found out, and he replied back jokingly, and the red-head almost changed her mind, but, as it is with most couples, they made up. And while it would be lying to say they didn't ever fight again, which they did, because it wouldn't've been Lily and James without the fights, they got along a whole lot better.
When I was 17, I began to live Happily Ever After.
A/N: Yay! okay, that ending always makes me happy! Feedback is much appreciated, and always used. (If you leave an e-mail addres, I'll reply)
A bunch of authors and I are getting together and writing a Round Robin story. It should be much fun and very interesting to read! Right now, our author name is The Round Robin Ducklings, but that may be changed, and the title hasn't been decided upon yet.