A/N: Couldn't resist. ((Sheepish look))

Disclaimer: Only own the characters I make up.

Chapter 1: A Chance Encounter

Lily walked down one of Hogwarts' corridors, Transfiguration textbooks clutched tightly to her chest. She kept her head bowed and moved quickly through the throngs of people, weaving in and out with her eyes glued onto the floor.

But of course, she didn't get through entirely unnoticed.

Ever since that Felicity O'Connor spread around rumours about her doing something or other which she certainly hadn't, Lily had to endure hisses from numerous girls and insults flying in her general direction.

This was not the most savoury turn of events for Lily Evans, Head Girl and seventh year Gryffindor.

She was naturally shy, and Felicity fed off this weakness and got the other girls to taunt Lily, putting her in the spotlight everywhere she went. Not just the girls in Gryffindor either. Felicity had whole school support, and her loathing of Lily came to a new high when the red head became Head Girl.

That was when the 'accidental' accidents started to occur.

Lily would suddenly trip up for no apparent reason, sending her books sprawling. She would have to kneel and gather them – hot tears of mortification running down her cheeks – to Felicity's mocking.

Another favoured punishment of Felicity's was the whispered, "Mudblood" which she would purr with sadistic pleasure into Lily's ear, the latter biting her lip and bowing her head so that her hair would hide the tears that fell.

This caused the already reclusive Lily to become accustomed in hiding behind statues and walking with shadows. She resided mainly in the library, her only true companions being the books around her and the black journal she kept.

The black journal was a normal hard-backed leather book with a black ribbon bookmark. On the front was a silver engraving of a single lily. It had been a present from Petunia, the last present from Petunia. Lily felt it impersonal to write to a diary, so instead she wrote it to the one friend she'd never had

Dear Rose,

She would put in her neat, fine handwriting.

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be Felicity O'Connor. Just for one day.

She chewed her quill in lack of something to say. When nothing came to mind, she sighed and closed the journal. As she stood up and gathered her Transfiguration textbooks, she placed her precious journal on the top of everything, where she could see it.

Lily blanched at the upcoming sight of Felicity and her right hand evil, Diana Mackenzie. She raised her head and looked for a way around them, but found none. With a resigned sigh she walked right past them.

Lily's eyes and head were directed downwards, not really facing where she was going. It wasn't long before she felt herself trip over something.

She squeezed her eyes shut, getting ready for the inevitable sharp pain that would inflict her from the front. She didn't bother to try and stop falling, but her books flew out of her hands at the surprisingly soft impact she met.

Lily opened her eyes cautiously, emeralds widening half in fear and half in surprise at the hazel eyes she met.

"Sorry," she whispered and pulled deftly away from him, dropping to her knees immediately to pick up her textbooks. She noted that Felicity and Diana had disappeared, and as a result the entire corridor had emptied.

"Here." His voice was soft and his eyes were gentle behind the wire rimmed glasses as he handed Lily her textbooks. "Sorry about bumping into you like that."

The witch blinked in disbelief at this sudden kindness. She accepted the help with murmured thanks, but she couldn't get away from the scene fast enough.

As James stood up, something caught his eye. He turned around and picked up the black book that lay on the floor. "Lily," he murmured, eyes entranced by the silver engraving. James looked around for the girl, but saw to his dismay that she had disappeared.

"Well," he whispered to himself, opening the book. "One glance can't hurt."

Journal Of Lily Rosanna Evans
Daughter of Lois Green and Roger Evans,
Sister to Petunia Kayla Evans

Proceed at your own peril.

James smiled. "One glance can't hurt," he repeated, half to himself and half… Almost to the diary it seemed. As if he needed permission to look at this.

One glance can't hurt.

A/N: I know I shouldn't have, but I couldn't resist. Constructive criticism would be appreciated, and flames would be used to bake my beloved Chocolate Fondants.