Maybe, if it had started out differently, everything would have gone smoother. Maybe, if he had walked up to her, if he had introduced himself with that cheeky smile and the dimples in his cheeks had shown, maybe she would have offered a timid smile in return. Maybe, if they had met upon being partnered in class, if some sense of cordiality had been established at the start, maybe they would have got along. But if he had done any of those things, then he wouldn't be James. And if things had gone as planned, they wouldn't be Lily and James.

The first time Lily met James starts with a quiet drip, drip, drip. It starts out soft, a young boy's hesitant attempt at magic he wasn't quite comfortable with yet, despite all his boast and show. Just a drip, drip, drip. Enough to turn her eyes skywards, enough to send emerald orbs scanning the high ceiling for a cluster of dark storm clouds. Lily knows, rationally, that it doesn't rain indoors. She knows, logically, that her search to find a source of the raindrops will come up empty. But her normal, rational, logical life has been shaken up just enough with the arrival of that letter - that letter that changed everything. And so, she finds her eyes narrowing as she squints up at that one patch on the ceiling, that one patch that could be just a stain, but that might, could maybe be, a miniature cumulonimbus.

And then, with no warning in the least, that drip, drip, drip turns into a whoooosh. She blinks. Once. Twice. Then once more. Still, she feels like her eyes are brimming with water and her pale eyelashes stick together. Water pools at her feet and her soggy black robes cling to her skin, leaking small droplets of water that add to the puddles beneath her. She can feel the heat rising to her cheeks, feel the embarrassed flush spread over her entire face until her skin matches her hair and she knows she must look like a tomato. The other first years nearby are covering their laughs, pointing and nudging their friends, so glad not to be the ones made fools of on their first day but not glad enough to be understanding. Lily wants to die. She wants to sink into the ground and disappear. Angry, humiliated tears well up in her eyes, mixing with the water already there and she wants to hide behind her curtain of hair at the very least. But the damp, lank auburn curls are pinned to her cheeks, securely fastened to her skin and offering no protection.

Her ears perk at the sound of a quiet, muffled snickering from behind her and she whirls, small, pale hands coming to rest on her hips, a gesture she'd picked up from her older sister that she thought made her look intimidating, despite barely reaching a height of five feet. As her gaze lands on two boys that look to be her own age, the snickering turns to chuckling, then to full out laughter. Loud, raucous, knee-thumping type laughter. The scrawnier boy, with hair like a bird's nest and round, dorky glasses, is dying. Lily finds herself wondering if he can breath through the guffaws racking his skinny frame. The darker of the two, the taller one with the too-long black locks framing a well-defined face, even at the age of eleven, catches her gaze and smirks condescendingly. Lily fumes silently at these boys who think they're so much better than her, because she can see it in their faces, the pride and arrogance plain for all the world to see. Indignation bubbles up inside her, rising and rising and rising until she can't take it anymore and it just bursts out.

"What," she tries to hiss threateningly, but her voice is high and shrill as it always is when she's trying to contain more emotion than she can. "What the bloody hell was that?" She never swears, never. Her mother would blanch to hear such language spout from her mouth. But the look on the scrawny boy's face is so irritating, his mouth open wide to let out all the laughter spilling from inside and his eyes crinkled up behind the frames and the small dimples creased on his cheeks, that she can't help but let the words slip out.

"Problem?" the taller boy asks, his tone indifferent as he lifts one eyebrow, arms crossed casually across his chest, the picture of aloofness. This sets off another burst of laugher from his companion and Lily watches as he has to fight to compose himself, pursing his lips shut and taking large, raspy breaths.

"We thought we were doing you a favor," glasses-boy adds once he regains some semblance of control, his tone full of false earnestness and his eyes widening to help his ploy at innocence, like that will help his case at all at this point.

"Problem? Favor?" It's all Lily can do to repeat their words back to the pair. Her eyes focus solely on them and she ignores the other students in the hallway who are watching the confrontation raptly. She is shaking, though whether it's from the chills the cold, soggy school robes are sending through her or from rage, she can't be sure. "Yes, I have a problem! How was dumping water, soaking my clothes, my books, everything, doing me a favor!" Her voice rises with each word she utters until she's practically screaming. She knows she looks like a drowned rat right now, knows that she's causing a scene, knows that sooner or later a teacher or a prefect is going to hear of the commotion, but she cant bring herself to care.

Scrawny boy nods vigorously, his hazel eyes twinkling with amusement as his lips stretch up in a large grin, so different from his friend's haughty smirk. "Oh, yes," he assures her frankly. "You see-" Here he has to pause, gulp back another burst of laughter. "We thought your head was on fire. We were only trying to help, you know. You shouldn't be so ungrateful."

Lily stares blankly at him, unable to understand how such a person can even exist. Her mouth opens and closes a couple times, leaving her gaping like a fish. One hand lifts to touch the previously fiery red locks attached to her head, the water having turned them a darker, less striking shade a red. "You.. you what?" she stutters, still having trouble wrapping her mind around what had happened.

The darker boy spoke then, elbowing scrawny boy in the side as he stage whispers, loud enough for the entire hallway to hear, "Looks like we found a dim one, mate." Turning back to Lily, his voice raises to a louder decibel. "YOUR. HEAD. WE. WANTED. TO. PUT. OUT. THE. FIRE." The words are carefully uttered, loud and precise, as if he is talking to a slow person. He makes a gesture towards his own head to demonstrate, tugging at one of his dark locks.

She shakes her head quickly, dispelling the haze of incomprehension surrounding her. "Y-y-you… you bloody prats! You think this is funny?" Lily accuses. "It's not! You… you-" she cuts off there, unable to find words strong enough to express herself.

The darker boy lifts his shoulders in a careless shrug, flashing Lily his cool smirk once more before turning to the boy next to him, slinging his arm around the shorter boy. "Guess she doesn't want our help, eh, Potter? We'll be sure not offer it, next time." With that, the two turn, heading off in the opposite direction, their shaking shoulders a surefire sign that they are still gathering amusement from the event. Lily is left standing in the middle of the hallway, still staring disbelievingly after the pair.