A/N: 37 years ago exactly!

I mourn the end of summer the way one may mourn the death of a distant aunt: false sadness coated over somewhat shameful anticipation of what happens next. In the hypothetical scenario, what happens next is being granted a generous sum of money from the woman's will. In my real life, the road ahead of me is paved in red and gold bricks, painted with the words "Head Girl."

False sadness may convince my parents I don't really want to leave, but Petunia snarls that she knows I'm thrilled to return to the freaks. I agree with her.
Then I'm on the train, and nothing else matters but moving forward.

Several times I've sat in the Prefects compartment on the Hogwarts Express, but this is the first time I'll be part of the usually stuck-up and unbearably straight-edged duo that lecture the lesser Prefects on how to… I don't really know; make sure some second years don't set the train on fire?

I, Lily Evans, could be classed as stuck-up and straight-edged, but the same cannot be said of my partner this year. When I slide open the door to the first compartment on the train, I am only mildly surprised to see James Potter sat there.

Only a few weeks ago, much to Petunia's horror, an owl delivered a letter to me at the breakfast table. I recognised the owl as belonging to Remus Lupin, and immediately I knew that the letter would say that Remus had been made Head Boy. My shock when I read that James Potter, of all people, had taken the title ensured that, now, I meet the current situation with a cool head.

Smirk. "Evans." Smirk.

"Potter," I reply slowly, then correct myself. "James."

His eyebrow rises as he gestures to the seat next to him. The matching badges pinned to our clothing tell me to sit down. We are equals, after all.
I don't sit down.

"You know as well as I do that this," I point to him, and then at myself, "isn't going to work unless we move forward. Any animosity between us from the past six years is gone. It doesn't exist anymore. I'm guessing Dumbledore had some reason to make you Head Boy, so I'm going to trust the old man and give you the benefit of the doubt."

James nods. "Right," he says. "And I'm guessing that Dumbledore wouldn't give this kind of power to someone with such a skewed perspective as the Lily Evans of the past six years, so I'm going to trust the old man and give you the benefit of the doubt."

Did he just…? Breathe, breathe, breathe. "Excuse me?"

Tilting his head backwards, James looks me straight in the eye. "Severus Snape."

I blink, and then I blink again. He's right. This summer just past saw me sever my relationship with Sev for good, and finally see that he was – is – on the wrong side of good vs evil.

I'm beginning to think James Potter and I will never be able to work alongside each other, and I open my mouth to say so, but what comes out is: "I think the old man must be right."

James lets out a laugh, so sharp at first that I know he's surprised. His laughter turns normal, and then stops. He holds out a hand. "In the interest of moving forward," he explains in response to my questioning look.

When I grasp his hand to shake it, he tugs me forward so I stumble into the seat next to him. Ungracefully, I right myself as I ponder hexing him. In the end, I decide against it, in the interest of moving forward.

We wait in silence for the Prefects to arrive.

Although neither stuck-up nor straight-edged (at all), James manages to convince most of the Prefects that he's a changed man and embodies both of these qualities. I, for one, don't buy into the act at all. As James rambles on about responsibility, I catch Remus' eye. He smiles and shakes his head slightly before focusing an enraptured gaze on his friend. James speaks so well I can't tell if Remus' look is put on or not.

I hadn't expected James to take his role seriously, so I had my own speech prepared. But when the last of the prefects trailed in, James stood up with a flourish, first introducing us both, gesturing grandly to me. He then continued with the same enthusiasm, telling the prefects how exactly they should do their job.

James wraps up his speech with a demonstration on how to handle a dragon infestation in the castle. Most of the prefects realise James is joking when he wields an imaginary sword and begins swinging it at an equally imaginary dragon. Stepping in would be the right move now, but I see the respect in the laughing faces of the prefects, so I wait for James to finish slaughtering all of the dragons before standing up. It doesn't escape my notice that all of the faces instantly dull as eyes move to me.

I clear my throat. "Well, I think James has summed up the exact requirementsof being a prefect. Make sure you check the carriages a few times before we get to Hogsmeade, and be on the lookout for imaginary dragons."

"Invisible dragons," James protests.

"Of course," I say before I dismiss the prefects.

I decide to walk the length of the train a few times before returning to my compartment. I tell myself it's because I need to set a good example, but really it's because of what awaits me in the compartment. Or rather, the lack of anything awaiting me. When I first got on the train, I shoved my trunk into the first empty compartment; I'm sure it remains empty. I could've found the other Gryffindor girls from my year, but they wouldn't want me: the girl who used to hang around with Severus Snape and only spent time with them when Severus was off with his other friends. Now I've broken off mine and Sev's friendship, it would feel wrong somehow to go running to the girls I ranked below him so many times before.

Before I reach the last carriage, where my compartment is situated, I turn around with the intent to patrol the train once again (read: avoid sitting alone in the compartment). That's when I see him. He's alone and reaching out for my arm. I yank it out of his reach.

"Come on, Lily."

The whole situation becomes approximately five hundred thousand times worse when I see James Potter enter the carriage. He glances at me and Severus, creating a battle plan I assume, then leans against the side of the train, obviously needing to do further planning on how to hex my old best friend. All of this is done so silently, I wouldn't know James was there if I wasn't looking in his direction. Which is exactly why Severus, turned to me, is none the wiser.

I retrain my eyes on Severus. "No, I won't 'come on'."

"Please, you know I would never do anything to hurt you."

Over Severus' shoulder, James rolls his eyes. I find myself fighting the urge to do the same. "I know that."

Relief spreads over Snape's face like a blooming flower.

"But," I say, "your friends would hurt me. You would hurt others with exactly the same blood as mine, and you think that exempting me gives you some sort of moral high ground, when in fact it makes you much more cowardly than even your spineless group of friends."

Paler than usual, Snape opens his mouth. "It's not like that!"

"It's exactly like that. Leave me alone." I make sure I enunciate the last three words clearly. Snape gets the message, because he turns around and is gone in a blur of robed, hunched shoulders, too preoccupied to even connect the pair of legs he sees before he leaves the carriage to his sworn enemy.

"I would've stepped in, but it looked like you could handle him yourself."

I can only nod, not used to this strange version of James Potter who at least pretends to take his responsibilities seriously, and who thinks before brandishing his wand whenever he sees greasy hair.

James grins. "Though if you do want me to hex him, just say so." He taps the pocket of his robes.

"Thanks, but I won't be taking you up on that offer. Now, if you'll excuse me…" I try to push past James, but he blocks my exit.

"You go back to your compartment; I'll make sure the dragons aren't going wild."
I refuse, but James insists. This starts a five minute long argument. More like a debate – a heated debate, with threats of the body-bind curse. Eventually I give in, but only when James starts saying the incantation. I trudge back to my compartment, ready to face the next five hours in solitude.

Although when I get to my compartment, it's nearly full. I must be mistaken, so I look to my left for my empty space – this is the end of the train.

Through the glass, I see someone stand up and the compartment door slides open.

Mary MacDonald smiles at me. "We saw your trunk in here and thought we'd join you." She gestures behind her and I look into the faces of my roommates. They're all looking at me, and I find myself at a loss for words, which is, to say the least, very unusual for me.

When I don't reply, Mary's smile falters. "Dorcas said she saw an empty compartment a few carriages down, if you'd rather…"

"No, no!" I cut in hastily, my voice returning at a slightly louder volume and higher pitch than usual. "It's fine, this is great."

Mary returns to her seat and I place myself next to Marlene. The happy shock of seeing them all here disappears as I realise they're all going to continue their previous conversations about their adventures together over the summer. I resign myself to politely smiling at anecdotes that don't involve me until the train arrives.

Dorcas turns to me as soon as my robes touch the seat. "Congratulations on making Head Girl, Lily, you're going to do a great job."

I smile and mentally kick myself. "Are you trying to butter me up so I won't bust you for sneaking out?"

Everyone laughs, and I recline comfortably in my seat. Summer is dead and buried, and I'm not sorry. I can already feel that this year is going to be exciting. Different, but exciting.

"Have you met the Head Boy yet?" Marlene asks, waggling her eyebrows.

Contentedly, I retell the story of James Potter and the Invisible Dragons.