Love is a Four-Letter Word

Disclaimer: The usual. Not mine at all, none of it nope no way no siree Bob. (Except Lily's friends & a couple of others.) I only wish.

Please R&R!!

Chapter One

Train and a Baked Potato

I staggered onto the platform clutching my purse in one hand, owl cage in the other, and forcing the trolley, overburdened as always, ahead of me. Stacked on top of the usual mess was a baked potato, dripping cheese and half-fat sour cream all over my trunk, as well as a smattering across my front. Very attractive.

The hustle and bustle of people coming and going and popping in and out was overwhelming. Overwhelming yes, but gratifying. My last year at Hogwarts - I couldn't wait to see Abby and Trish, and of course, Lydia. I couldn't believe how much I'd missed them, pent up in my parents' house all summer with that barmy little whiner Petunia. Sister, yes. Friend, no. Not even chums, pals, buddies. Hah! Sisters? Barely. Just a blood relation. Everyone we've ever met says the same thing, "It's hard to find two sisters as different from one another!" Thank Merlin for that!

Licking a smudge of cheese from my wrist and checking on the precarious tower of my school things, I continued on towards the train. The instant I stepped out into the bright lights of the platform, I was tackled by three screaming girls.

"Oh, my, Gawd, Abby! Your hair looks great!"

"Muggle salon, mum took me - Trish! Oh my God, I so need to talk to you…."
"Here Lils, I got you some of that Shineazy's from the Potionette salon-"

"Oh, it comes in grapefruit? Mine's coconut… Not as nice…"

"Thanks Lyd!"

"Baked potato?? For moi?"

"My breakfast."

"Share??"
"Okay!"

Feeling the familiar crush of their care, I surrendered and sliced the potato in two. Trish downed her half in one bite. So like her. Lydia pushed a bottle of something into my hand. Shineazy's by Sleakeazy, guaranteed an 18-hour healthy, natural shine that's guaranteed not to fade! Looking at my flat, drab hair as we somewhat floated towards the train, bags carried along as well, I felt totally and completely… well, okay. This was where I belonged, here, with my friends. With people who accepted and acknowledged and especially shared what Petunia referred to as my "instability." Tuney didn't even know what she was missing.

We finally made it to the compartment, me squeezed between Gloria, my owl, and Abby, who was rifling through her trunk for something.

"I just have to show you… You'll love them, they're hilarious!" More rifling.

Suddenly, a cool female voice interrupted my consumption of the baked potato, now slightly cold.

"Prefects of fifth, sixth, and seventh years, as well as Head Boy and Head Girl, are reminded to make their way to the Prefect's Carriage immediately."

I nearly choked on a particularly large piece of chive garnish. "W-what?" I sputtered.

"Prefects. Prefects Compartment." Trish repeated from across. She had a small, amused smile settled on her fine features. "Not like you to forget, Lily! You're such a one for rules!"

"Well, at least I'm not Head Girl or anything. I'd be burned if I was late!"

"You will be burned if you don't get out there, you red-headed arse! Move!" Lydia shoved my backside as I teetered out of the door, still clutching my potato. Remus Lupin was waiting for me in the hall, a little smile playing across his lips.

"Forget, Lily? I was just coming to collect you." he said, quickly leading the way to the front of the train.

"No, I didn't… I didn't forget. What do you take me for, Remus?" I retorted, wiping the corner of my mouth with a finger. Sour cream likes to stick there.

Remus sighed, still smiling. Then, his grin turned wicked. "I don't know what James would say, Lily. You've always been such a little Prefect. It's part of the appeal, I think."

"Well, you don't need to advocate for him!" I snapped, staring into my baked potato with an undeserved fury. I could almost see it shrink back in fear. "Potter's the one who walks around with his head up his a-"

"Now, now, Miss Evans," Remus cautioned, putting on his half-mocking Prefect face. "Don't say anything you might live to regret."

"Oh, yes. I tremble in fear whenever James Potter is mentioned!" I responded tartly. I did not want to talk about Potter. He just an insufferable toerag, end of story. But Remus persisted.

"This is his last year to win you over." I swear I saw Remus smirk as he said this, and Remus is not the smirking type. I took another bite of potato. "He'll be sorry to hear it's off to such a bad start."
"Look, Rem, he is the last thing I want to think about while I'm eating," I responded. "My pity is mingled with acute disgust."
Remus' lips quirked in a smile. "That's the nicest thing I believe you've ever said of him."

I opened my mouth to let out some of my rage when the door to the Prefect's Compartment slid open. Professors MacGonagall, Slughorn, Sprout, and Flitwick were seated inside.

"Good of you to show up, Miss Evans, Mr Lupin." MacGonagall said, the tone betraying the words. Professor Slughorn, however, gave me a cheerful wave. I waved halfheartedly back. He looked like a walrus stuffed into wizard's robes. Sprout and Flitwick merely watched as I sheepishly dropped into my seat. Lupin slid silently into the seat beside mine, a comforting hand placed on my upper arm. It was a touch that said "everything'll be okay, just live it out." I wished I could be as sure as he seemed to be. Brushing a few strands of dark red hair from my eyes, I lifted my gaze to the Head of my House, Gryffindor.

"Now that the Gryffindor Prefects have condescended to sit," she announced, special emphasis on the word 'sit.' My face burned a little redder. "I have a couple of announcements. As we all may be aware, the Head Boy for this year is Adrian Pucey of Hufflepuff." Polite applause. Professor Sprout's wide face beemed joyfully. It was a grand day for Hufflepuff, it seemed. "Head Girl is Rebecca Stuart of Slytherin." Polite applause for Rebecca as well, although it was considerably quieter. I clapped twice and then lowered my hands, while Remus only made the appearance of clapping; his hands never touched one another. Professor Slughorn, however, beamed even brighter than Sprout had - apparently this was one of his favourites. Not that I paid much attention to who was at the Slug Club dinners with me. I always sat with Nicholas Waffling, a Gryffindor who was going into sixth year. He was the nephew of Adalbert Waffling, some magical theoretician. I was still trying to figure out how I even got into the Slug Club in the first place when the applause died off. Mac Gonagall's curt voice continued. "I shall now call roll, to see if anyone may be missing." I looked back down at my hands. "Starting with seventh years, then sixth, then fifth. Angleton, Rhonda? Boyle, Franklin? Evans, Lily? Gordon, Christoff? Kai-Feng, Lao? Lupin, Remus? Moncton, Liza? Stephens, Kerry?" We all responded with a polite raise of the hand. Once I heard my name, I stopped attempting to focus… I was drifting off a little, staring into the flames, those hypnotic, waving flames…

"Miss Evans, are you capable of staying awake for ten minutes, or must I send you to the hospice car?!" MacGonagall snapped. I shook awake with a jolt, face reddening by the second. Oh Merlin, oh no!

"The instant we arrive at the school I will be docking points from Gryffindor! I don't believe my House has ever been in the negative numbers before the start of term!"

Still looking at my hands, I didn't even attempt an excuse. "I'm sorry, ma'am." I muttered. Mentally, berating myself, I left the carriage as fast as possible, followed by the crush of the other Prefects. Remus' face, once he caught up to me, was a bright, bright red. One hand was clapped over his mouth. I narrowed my eyes dangerously. "You've really outdone yourself, Lily!" he gasped. I folded my arms over my chest. Unfortunately, he didn't realize that I was in a dangerous mood. "What…HAH…What would've happened if you h-hadn't woken up?"

I pressed my lips together, my eyebrows contracted, and I snapped. "One morning, Remus Lupin, you won't wake up!"

Leaving a sputtering, redfaced Remus in my wake I ploughed through the sea of people. Just as I was approaching my compartment, somebody stepped out of the loo, right into the hall. Untidy black hair was sticking up all over the back of his head. I should have recognized him --- if I had, I would have turned tail and ran in the opposite direction. I saw, as he turned around, that he was the last person I ever wanted to see.

"Hey, Evans. In a rush?"

It was Potter.

"Yeah, get out of my way!" I snapped.

"Hey, calm down, Evans, I haven't even said anything yet!" He threw up his hands and looked down on me. He'd grown maybe four inches since the last time I'd seen him. Infuriating imbecile.

"You've said quite enough, Potter. Get out of the way!" I cried. All I wanted was to get back to my car… Sleep off the embarrassment that was my life. But he refused to move.

"What is it Potter? Don't you understand a simple request? Get out of the way!"

He was still smiling that infuriating half-smile. Suddenly, he stepped back a pace. Letting his eyes sweep up my body shamelessly, he merely responded, "Alright, alright, don't get your knickers in a twist."

My jaw dropped open. He was still giving me the one over. Rage welled up inside, but I spoke with icy calm, "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" turned on my heel, and stormed away.

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"I don't know, Prongs!" Sirius exclaimed. He was sitting across from me and Remus, with his long legs stretched out, feet propped on the window. "I've been counselling you about the same girl for, what? Seven years?"

"About that, yeah," Remus responded, not taking his eyes off of his book. Some Defence Against the Dark Arts rubbish, about as heavy as Remus was himself.

"If she doesn't like you, well…" Sirius trailed off. But he was smiling. The prick. I sighed.

"But she's not just some girl, Padfoot, she's…" I shook my head. "Different. I know it."

Sirius rolled his eyes. Remus, face still buried in his book, just smiled slightly. Peter, squished in between Sirius and the compartment door, was nervously searching his pocket for something.

"Just… forget about it, okay? Forget I ever said anything."

I could swear I heard Remus mutter something like, "Finally."

Now, don't get me wrong, I wasn't obsessed with her. She was just incredibly beautiful, incredibly funny, incredibly nice, incredibly…incredible. I just pissed her off. Not my fault. But for some reason, she thought I was, like, Voldemort or something. You'd think I'd murdered her family. She avoided me like the plague. Not that I could blame her, I mean, sometimes I'd get this self-loathing complex. Not fun, but again, not my fault. My friends, however, were really starting to get tired of my odd affection for one (1) Lily Evans.

"So…" I said unsteadily, "So… Yeah, um… What kind of song d'you think the Hat'll come up with this year."

"Terrible stab at a conversation, Prongs. Dreadful. But I imagine it'll be the same - that one-two-three-two rhyme scheme it always has." Remus shrugged.

"Life must suck as a hat," Sirius commented.

"Insight on life from the brilliant Padfoot," Remus muttered, still smiling.

"Very observant," I added.

Peter didn't say anything, as per the usual. Only laughed at Sirius and I. "No, shut it, I mean really. It must suck. I'd rather be… I dunno. Maybe the train?"

"James would be Lily's knickers." Remus said placidly. His voice was so flat, face so expressionless, that for a moment Sirius and I just looked at him in confusion. Then, Sirius started howling with laughter.

"NOT FUNNY!" I roared. "SHUT IT! AND YOU TOO, WORMTAIL!"

Sirius fell to the floor of the compartment, quaking with laughter.

"MOONY, ONE MORE CRACK LIKE THAT AND I'LL STRANGLE YOU!" I bellowed, fuming. "IT'S NO LAUGHING MATTER!"

"So… so you ad- hic -mit it??" Sirius stuttered, tears of glee spilling from his eyes. I folded my arms over my chest.

"Not funny." I growled. The irritability I felt was overwhelming. I tried to tune them out, but I knew my face was heating up. I wasn't even breathing.

See how she leans her cheek upon her hand? I would I were a glove, that I might touch that cheek.

Some Muggle literature I had found in my parents' attic crept into my head. But it was not the same thing. Something in my gut told me I would rather be her glove than her knickers, no matter what stupid Moony had to say.

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Lily was in the compartment, squished between Hooper, her owl, and Trish, who was going on about some new hand cream that promised full dexterity and neater writing. She was fuming. Insufferable, wretched nitwit. They're probably laughing in their compartment about some innocent girl's knickers as we speak. I had the feeling that this thought was very right. I almost thought I heard some boy or other bellowing "NOT FUNNY!", but at what I did not care to imagine. Probably something terrible. Probably something very boy-like.

"It's just amazing," Lydia was saying, "I went from a B to a C overnight…" But I wasn't really listening. Putting two fingers into the cage to stroke Hooper's midnight black feathers, I tucked a strand of dark red hair into the messy bun on the back of my head. Hooper was warm and reassuring as always. She nibbled the side of my index finger affectionately before scratching her belly with her yellow-black beak, intelligent, golden eyes sparkling cheerily. She was, in essence, my one connection with the wizarding world during the summer. Trish was now talking about some hair-growth serum her cousin Chelsea had used.

I wasn't even trying to pay attention, but the sound of my friends' cheerful, excited voices was reassuring. I was where I belonged, Potter the Pervert or no, and nobody was going to take my last year at Hogwarts away from me.