A/N: I was just listening to Broken by Lifehouse, doing some free writing, when this story just came to me. I tried to ignore it but I just couldn't and I swear I wasn't planning on posting it, but an annoying, little voice in my head kept nagging me to do it, so here you go. I have no idea what sort of reaction this story will have and I'm a bit worried to tell the truth. It's slightly AU, because, among other things, I kinda changed Lily's birthdate. I know Rowling said Lily's birthday was somewhere around January, but I'm playing around with the dates here, so please don't point that out: I ALREADY KNOW. It's set in the summer before their 7th year, just so you guys know and I'm just going to stop rambling.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, except the plot, and a few other characters I'll introduce as the story progresses.
Prologue
Beautiful.
That's the first thing people think when they look at her. At first glance, she's nothing more than a pretty face in this sea of superficiality. It wasn't long ago that Lily Evans would have agreed with them. Her flawless skin, her delicate figure, her almond-shaped eyes that are an intense shade of green, and red, red locks the colour of old wine are all synonymous to a misguided person's misconception of what true beauty really is.
She had to admit that she is attractive, yes. It wasn't being overly conceited; it was just something anybody with a good pair of working eyes can see.
She wondered then, if she'd been blind all of this time, because now, as she stared at the broken image of herself, she knew that nothing could be farther from the truth.
Because beauty, true beauty is more than just a pretty face and perfect figure. Beauty comes from within, captivates the soul and empowers the spirit and she was none of that. Her pretty face had not been enough two years ago, when her mother had been torn away from her, leaving her to try and pick up the broken pieces that was her life. It hadn't been enough to stop her best friend from calling her that foul world or enough to stop her sister from abandoning her.
It hadn't been enough tonight, to stop him from striking against her, to stop him from shouting at her how pathetic and useless she was as he threw her mother's vase at her head in all his drunken glory.
And she hadn't been quick enough, hadn't jumped out of his line of fire in time. She hadn't been brave enough to stand up to him. And how stupid was that?, she thought to herself. Gryffindors were supposed to be brave and courageous, after all, but she was none of that.
She was a coward.
She stared into the mirror hanging over her bathroom sink, taking in the reflection in front of her. She could barely recognise the girl blinking back at her; her eyes were large and bloodshot and had lost their shine. Her once perfect curls were now matted around her face, which had once been flawless but was now host to several cuts, the biggest of which was just above her left eye.
She leaned closer to the mirror, inspecting the cut. It wasn't big, but she could tell it was deep; nothing a few drops of the magical vial under her cabinet couldn't fix. She knew it wouldn't be enough, knew that it would leave a scar, but it was all she trusted herself to do at the moment. She knew spells, of course, that would completely heal her skin, but she wasn't of age yet, so it was out of the question.
And going to a Muggle clinic for sutures? Definitely a no. They would start asking questions and right now, that was the last thing she needed.
The redhead sighed, reaching down under the cabinet where she kept the small vial of magical potion she had purchased on her last visit to Diagon Alley.
She let herself fall back on the toilet seat, her head leaned back against the cold wall as the purple liquid made contact with her skin. And, even though the cut on her temple protested violently and it hurt like hell, she found herself indifferent to the pain. She had experienced worse.
She proceeded to cleanse her other cuts, paying special attention to the ones in her hands from when she had tried picking the broken pieces of her mother's favourite vase, forgetting entirely about her bruises. Nothing could be done about them at the moment, not without using magic, except covering them up.
There were other bruises, deep within her, that even magic couldn't heal.
Just two more weeks, she told herself as she stood once more, peering at her reflection. Two more weeks and she would be of age. She would be free, free to leave this place that had once been her home but was now her personal hell, her private prison.
It was with this comforting thought that she put on her smile, the same one she had perfected over the years. If anybody looked closely, they would see it was fake, see the overwhelming sadness lingering behind it. But nobody ever did.
Everybody else just saw what they wanted to see: lovely, little Lily Evans who was the envy of all the girls in her year, who lived a perfect life. Nobody knew the truth. Nobody knew how broken she really was.
She admired her reflection for a little while longer, her eyes lingering on the almost-healed cut. It wasn't perfect, but it would do.
After all, neither was she.
A/N: Let me know what you think, yeah? I'm dying here to read all of your opinions! This is just a prologue-I promise the chapters will increase in length. Anywho, thanks for reading!