I never presume to be amazing at writing, and this probably isn't one of my better pieces, but at the moment this story is kind of dear to me. For all those who have been reading my longer works, 'In My Dreams' and 'Lost and Found', I am so sorry that I haven't updated those recently but I've had alot on my mind. I don't know when i will be getting back to them but hopefully it will be soon. 'Till then.

One request? Please don't flame this story, if you're gonna criticise it at least be constructive. Thank you

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any characters relating to it. I do, however, own a nice, new pair of jeans that I bought at the weekend (from Topshop, in case you're wondering).

I never liked the way I looked. My stupid, ugly ginger hair. My mum always said it was beautiful, gorgeous, but the kids in the playground in primary school never said that. "Quick! Someone call a Fireman," The jeers would start, "her head's on fire!" They would dance around me in circles, closing me in. Sometimes I would get so upset accidental magic would happen, but I never knew what it was and it only added fuel to the fire they already insisted was on my head. Ginger. Carrot top. Tomato. I could never escape their taunts but I tried not to let it show, Petunia always helped me. She made me feel better…

And then I got my Hogwarts letter.

She turned on me then, she called me all the names she had insisted were never true… and then some. Freak. Unnatural. Monstrosity. And so I escaped into the Wizarding World with a passion, desperate to finally feel as though I belonged…

It never happened. At first, Severus made me feel welcomed, he explained everything to me and when I found out about the conflict between Muggleborns and Purebloods he assured me it didn't matter to him; that we would always be Best Friends Forever.

But even he eventually deserted me. I had pushed all my other friends away by then, by insisting that Sev wouldn't let me down, that he wasn't like the other Slytherins. I should have listened to them. And now I'm all on my own, for my only remaining friend spends all her time with her boyfriend. Her pureblood boyfriend, Frank Longbottom. And I know that blood status shouldn't matter, but it does, and I have no control over it, and I just want some control.

Control. I just wanted something in my life that I could control.

So I starved myself.

But I was still a freak. My hair, my blood… My obsession with counting calories. But I just couldn't stop; the thought of me even eating what would be considered a 'normal amount' made me throw up. Besides, I told myself, you're fat, you need to loose weight if you're ever going to have even a semblance of the life a normal person would have, because why would someone want you… The Freak.

And then I hit six stone.

Suddenly people started noticing me, and I felt good. The looks people were giving me were looks of horror but I mistook them for jealousy. It felt good. Then Alice, my once best friend and newly engaged to Frank Longbottom broke down in front of me. "Merlin, Lils." She had sobbed, "I'm so sorry, I've been so caught up with Frank and the N.E. this year that I haven't spoken to you for ages. I'm so sorry Lily, but you've got to start eating. It's all my fault; I shouldn't have ignored you so much. You need to eat, Lily, it's not right to be so skinny. It's unnatural…" Unnatural. That word again, couldn't I do anything right? Maybe she was right… Maybe I did need to eat more? But no, I thought again, maybe she just means that I'm not thin enough?

Oh, I know what it is, I should have known, Alice is jealous. She didn't want to see me looking so good, when she wasn't this thin. She was jealous. I felt phenomenal.

But as I did every night I gazed into the mirror that night, naked and alone in my Head Girl quarters, and felt revolted by what I saw. Everywhere I looked I could still see fat, whenever I turned I felt I wobbled. It was disgusting. I couldn't believe that someone could look so horrid, until I looked at myself in the mirror.

I had failed. Tears spilled down my cheeks, I needed to loose more weight. I needed to do something.

It was almost as if in a trance when I reached for my wand, the appropriate spell seeming to materialise in my head, I knew it would make me feel better, my parents been killed in a car crash only weeks before and I hadn't came to terms with it yet but I knew, with this, I would get some relief.

So I cut myself.

It felt so good when I cut myself, the stinging, burning sensation on my wrists. Watching the blood trickle down my wrists and form into various blobs before it dripped onto the floor below. It mesmerised me. The pain was always welcomed; it cleared my head, made me feel alive.

Every night I would sit alone in my room, cutting my wrists with a light cutting curse, watching the blood flow and the pain ebb and eventually fade. I always craved more once the initial adrenaline rush faded but normally I was too tired, back then even a the simple cutting curse was almost too much for my frail body. I thought my magic was failing me; instead, all of it was being used to simply keep me alive. I thought I was becoming a Muggle. It scared me. One night, however, as per the routine, I was cutting myself, but more power than usual had somehow been placed behind the spell…

And then it cut too deeply.

I had cut too deeply and knew the blood loss would be too great. No one was around; I was all alone in my Head Girl dorm. I could feel my Magic slipping from my grasp, further and further away. I knew that even if I tried I would not be able to heal myself with spells. Merlin, I couldn't even drag myself to the door only feet away from me.

But somehow it seemed all right – dying – it wasn't as though I was going to achieve anything worthwhile in my life. And it wasn't as though there were people who loved me and would miss me in this world; I would even get to see my parents again, the only two people whom had loved me with all my flaws. Merlin, this would even be one less Muggleborn left for He-Who-, Voldemort, to kill…

No! I don't want to die! I don't want to give in! I can't. I won't. But I knew I was and there was nothing I could do about it.

I could hear voices in distance. I wanted to shout out. To cry for help, but I couldn't… All I could manage was a weak moan.

So I had basically killed myself.

I had always hated James Potter. From the moment I first saw him I knew he was just how he was: spoilt, vain, arrogant. He would humiliate people in the worst way through his pranks, especially Severus. He and Sirius Black would swagger through the corridors as if they owned the school, sleeping with every girl fourth year and above. Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew were almost as bad, at first I thought Remus was alright but then I saw him and Peter going along with whatever Potter and Black had organised. Remus even created some of their pranks! 'The Marauders' they called themselves as though they were a part of some London street gang. Almost every time I would see them, Potter would strut up to me and ask me out, expecting me to fall at his feet. Obviously I said 'no' every time but he would still continue, even claiming he was 'in love' with me. The Marauders were selfish and immature, taking everything for granted. So you can believe my surprise when James Potter, of all the people, was named Head Boy.

And it's his and his gang's voices that I can hear now, a bitter voice in my head reminds me that I really must be desperate if I'm so willing for Potter to help me.

But I'm slipping in and out of consciousness, and possess nowhere near enough energy in my wasted and scarred body to call for help. The hopelessness rises up in me, the same hopelessness I felt all those years ago when I was being tormented in the Muggle School.

A bang seems to explode from my body as my Magic tries one last desperate attempt to call for help. I can still hear the Marauders' voices and pray to all deities known and unknown that they will hear and come looking to help me, even if I had threatened them on pain of death to never come in my room.

Please… I don't want to die.

And then suddenly I can hear their voices moving closer; I can hear them outside my door. I painstakingly shift my gaze to the door as if to almost will them inside my room and to find me.

The handle starts to twist to open, but I think they're too late.

My sight goes black and I hear and see nothing.

"…C'mon Lily wake up, Merlin Lils, please wake up. I promise to never call you those silly nicknames again…"

"… Hey again, Lily. Listen, you got to wake up, yeah? I promise I'll never ask you out again – well unless you want me to, but first you have to…

"…Lily Evans! Don't you dare die…"

"…How am I meant to be at least a half-way decent Head Boy if you aren't there to shout at me for getting it all wrong? C'mon Lily… C'mon…"

"…It's been a week now Lils, and I think you'll be proud to know that I haven't pulled a prank all week. 'Course Sirius isn't happy about that-"

And then I opened my eyes.

"-Madam Pomphrey! Quick! She awake!" I could see Pott- James sitting on a chair by my side, holding my hands. Surprisingly, I didn't care. I was breathing in deeply, savouring the feel of the air running through my nose, and the tastes, textures, sights, smells and sounds I could sense. I could feel more than see Madam Pomphrey bustling around my bed, which I, realise is in the hospital ward, and casting spells.

"Miss Evans! You're awake! Although I don't know how, you were severely underweight and malnourished and lost a lot of blood. If it wasn't for Mr. Potter, Mr. Black, Mr. Lupin and Mr. Pettigrew finding you so quickly and Mr. Potter's quick thinking you would most likely be dead! As it is you will have to stay in here, in bed, for at least another week and take 5 different potions, 3 times a day for 6 weeks, just feel lucky it isn't longer. Now…"

I've never believed in fairytales, even when it turned out I belonged in some of them, as a witch. But even so, I never did believe that the Handsome Prince would rescue the Lowly Girl and they would live Happily Ever After… But I guess this is my fairytale. And James Potter isn't so bad after all. I could hear him, when I was almost lost to the living world, talking to me and it made me feel kind of… safe.

But this is real life and there are no 'Happily Ever After's. There are, however, the moments where people can think 'Hey, this isn't so bad" and every now and then a man, or a boy, can come metaphorically charging up in his shining armour to unexpectedly help you. So I guess that makes James Potter my Hero. He's certainly not perfect but maybe I should get to know him better before I judge him this time round and although I won't get my Happily Every After, maybe I can find with him my More Than Good Enough For Me.

So I guess this is my fairytale?