(A/N) Obviously, everything belongs to the lovely JK Rowling. This is the very first fanfic I've ever written and any reviews whatsoever would just mean the world to me.
1.
It wasn't yet three weeks into September but there was a homey fire on the Gryffindor common room's fireplace and the flickering flames projected purplish shadows over the many students that gathered around the sofas and various armchairs of the room. It was already dark outside the high-framed crystals and a rather furious late-summer storm made it impossible to see as far as the forest that stretched behind the dark lawns that surrounded the castle. Over in a corner besides a window, their ties undone and their hair dishevelled after a tenuous day of lessons, sat three girls huddled together in what appeared to be carefree chit chatter.
'I reckon McGonagall's trying to do us off. I am positive not one of us, not one I say, can possibly figure out what that essay she assigned today is about. I've absolutely no sodding clue.' said one of the girls. She had deep brown, slightly wavy hair that almost covered her eyes with a fringe. Her irises were the palest shade of blue, almost transparent, and she had an angelic look about her that clashed radically with the fast, histrionic way in which she spoke. 'Well, bloody Potter could probably be done with it in around thirty seconds, but that means nothing – we are six years in and have yet to find something the prick cannot do. No offense there, Dearborn.'
'I'm not offended.' answered the girl besides her, leaning her head back into the windowsill. She was sitting cross-legged on a worn, velvet crimson cushion on the floor and she did not turn her eyes from whatever she was gazing at through the window as she spoke. Her voice was low and soft, harsh yet appealing.
'Well, you two are sort of related. With your mums being best friends and all, I mean. I never quite understood why your brother and he aren't friends - you do see each other all the time when you are back in Godric's Hollow.'
'I can answer that for you, Mary.' intervened the third girl, sneering. 'While Declan is a decently lovely bloke, Potter is an arrogant, megalomaniacal git and I can easily see why they wouldn't have much in common.'
'Blimey, Evans. Merely wondering why Declan and Potter aren't practically lovers like Potter and Black are. No need to give you heart failure.' said Mary Macdonald mockingly.
Lily Evans rolled her eyes at the smirking girl and huffed loudly. She was tired, exhausted even, and she did not need to discuss James Potter when he was the very cause of her weariness. She hoisted her dark red hair up and twisted it around, the recoiling strands holding up unaided at the crown of her head. She tightened her grip on the small, folded piece of parchment that had been caged against her palm for hours now and attempted not to think about how many times she had read it already. It was a short and unsigned missive but there had been no doubt whatsoever about who had written it from the moment it landed graciously above her Arithmancy textbook during the last lesson of the day.
I like it when you wear your hair up.
James Potter's spidery, elegant handwriting was unmistakable to her by now.
'You people are so boring.' Mary said, the look on her pink-cheeked face that of a bratty child in discontent. 'We have Dearborn here staring out the window like she's watching thestrals getting it on, and Evans over there being bitter and mean.'
'I am not bitter!' answered Lily indignantly.
'You are.' retorted Faye Dearborn. Her eyes did not part from the big, roundly full moon above the trees of the forest. 'I'm hungry.'
'Finally, an idea!' cried Mary in delight. 'We go find Dorcas and the rest of the lot and go down to the kitchens and eat - like people who aren't boring do!'
'We do not go down to the kitchens after curfew, Mary Macdonald. In fact, we ought to go upstairs in a little while. Going out after curfew is a gateway drug to becoming the Marauders.' said Lily, faux-sternly, tapping a finger over the Prefect badge that gleamed upon her chest. She smiled briefly at her best friend's shocked look of disbelief and nodded towards Faye. 'Besides, Faye's got loads of food in the dormitory. And she loves to share.'
'Oh, but theyare upstairs!' pouted Mary. 'Dawlish and Dawlish and Crenshaw and the lot of them. And I won't – won't, I say – spend my evening listening to Melberta Dawlish telling her daft, brainless cronies about how much Eugenius Mortlake adores her and how hot Sirius Black is in our dormitory like she hasn't got her own.'
Faye Dearborn broke away from her trance abruptly and stood up in one gracious, seamless move. After being so quietly still for so long, the subtle irritation in her tone was hard for Lily to understand, though she had long ago realised that coping with Faye's mood swings came along with being her friend. 'I do not want them in our dormitory either, Mary. Melberta is a self-satisfied little brat and Maittena Dawlish could not come up with an original thought on her own to save her ruddy life. And do not get me started on Susan Crenshaw- whatever Will McKinnon sees in her is as much of a mystery to me as it is to Marlene.' She looked down at Lily, who was gazing up at her at from her own cushion with a condemning frown. 'Oh, don't be condescending, Lily. Even you can't possibly tolerate the Dawlishes. Besides, twins give me the creeps.'
'You and Declan are twins!'
'We are not identical' said Faye, rolling her eyes. Her freckled nose quivered with disgust as she continued, 'and we do not dote on each other. And most certainly, Declan does not puppet me around like Melberta does Maittena. How could Theodora Dawlish possibly come out a decent girl with older sisters like those completely escapes my comprehension.'
There were two sixth year Gryffindor girls' dormitories and six girls slept in each of them. They were civil to one another, occasionally spent time together and they would never hesitate to stand up for each other whenever their Gryffindor pride was compromised, but they weren't friends. Lily herself privately though Susan Crenshaw was the Devil's spawn.
'So what do you suggest we do, Faye? Stump into our dormitory and say "Oh, you really must leave, twins give Faye the creeps"?' asked Lily patronizingly.
'I reckon we could, actually.' said Mary, getting up from her armchair to stand besides Faye, who towered a nice four heads above her. Her dark hair flied around her in sheer excitement. 'Or just blatantly tell them we are tired and require they sod off so we can sleep.'
Both girls were grinning madly above her so, with great effort, Lily stood up herself. She closed her eyes for a moment – she was just so, so tired – it wouldn't really be her fault if Faye and Mary gave the Dawlishes and Susan Crenshaw some hell. After all, she was a Prefect, not their parents. And Potter's note was still tightly kept inside her fisted hand. Why hadn't she binned it yet? For a moment she felt again the tingling sensation of his eyes burning at the back of her neck, fixated.
'You go along.' said Lily resignedly. 'Just please don't tell them to sod off. Be nice. Hold yourselves back.'
'When have dear Faye and I been anything but nice to someone?' said Mary, but she had already caught Faye's hand and begun to drag her towards the spiral staircase leading to the girls dormitories before Lily could even attempt an answer.
She sat down in one of the sofas opposite the fire - which was surprisingly empty - and watched how the last of the Gryffindors came back from dinner just as some people begun to make their way up to their dormitories. She was drained, of course, but for some reason unknown to her she did not feel like going to bed. In fact, it was not even nine o'clock yet.
I like it when you wear your hair up.
She crumpled the bit of parchment up and was almost about to throw it at the flames before her when her hand was seized softly by someone standing behind her. Lily turned around in a flash to meet Marlene Macmillan's piercing chocolate brown eyes peering down at her.
'You don't want to do that, Lil.' Marlene sat beside her and patted her knee gingerly, as if tickling a sleeping dragon. The look on her face was both pitiful and sympathetic, and this made Lily blush a furious shade of fuchsia.
'I don't know what you're talking about, Marly.' said Lily tartly.
'James's note – don't burn it.' Marlene laughed quietly as Lily's eyes grew to the size of saucers in astonishment. 'I sit with you in Arithmancy, remember? And I sat next to you at dinner. You must have read the thing half a million times.'
Lily said nothing, just shook her head and furrowed her brows. Marlene went on. 'It's all right, Lil, you know. I'm not one to talk, at all, but I surely understand you. And he's right, of course – you do look quite nice with your hair up.' That last bit Marlene said with a mocking smile, but Lily didn't laugh.
'I just detest him too much.'
'Oh, I know you do.' said Marlene. 'You wouldn't make it so difficult if you didn't.'
Lily looked pleadingly at her friend and Marlene thought it was quite enough. Lily would eventually see, of that much she was certain, but for tonight Marlene felt satisfied.
'Look, I'll say nothing more – but you should know I understand you. In fact, I hoped to talk to you in Arithmancy before lover boy – before James,' Marlene corrected herself when she saw the look of sheer panic in Lily's emerald eyes. 'let us say, disrupted our peace. I run into Willemsworth with Susan Crenshaw.'
'You mean Will? Will McKinnon?' asked Lily. She looked relieved the topic of the conversation had been shifted.
'We do not speak of that little slag in such a friendly fashion, Evans.' said Marlene. 'We call him Willemsworth or "that little slag". We most certainly do not call him "Will".'
Marlene Macmillan was one of the girls Lily shared dormitories with. She was tall and rather pretty, and Lily thought that besides Alice Fawley, she truly didn't know anyone kinder. Her platinum blonde hair was cut straight just after it reached her shoulders and her round, deer-like brown eyes where rimmed with many long, thick white-blonde eyelashes.
'I didn't even know his name was Willemsworth. And I though you two were quite close friends.' Lily said defensively. Marlene told her Will was named after his mother's maiden name and Lily found it funny that she knew that. 'You oughtn't to be surprised by now, Marly. He's been seeing her since the end of last year.'
'That much I do know, thank you.' huffed Marlene in exasperation. She pulled a strand of her pin-straight hair behind her ear as she went on, 'I just didn't quite enjoy running into their little snogging session while I was trying to find a bathroom. And he is sort of my friend, perhaps.'
'Oh Marly!'
'It's not such a big deal, really. It's not like I still fancy the prick – I mean, I fancied him when we were fourteen or something. But still...' Now Marlene wasn't meeting Lily's eyes and her arms were tightly crossed around her chest, her hands fidgeting with her Gryffindor tie.
Lily felt incredibly sorry for Marlene. If she remembered correctly, it had been during their second month at Hogwarts that Marly had asked if anyone knew who that quiet, nice-looking second-year was. And now, Lily would bet anyone her right thumb that Marlene feelings hadn't changed at all and that she would jump at Susan Crenshaw's throat if anyone was foolish enough to leave those two alone. Yes, Marlene was indeed an unbelievably caring, kind-hearted person, but she also had a fiery temperament, was as inflammable as a house made of parchment and a tad judgmental. Perhaps that was why she was best friends with Faye Dearborn.
'I get it, Marly. And it's going to be OK, you know. One can only tolerate Susan Crenshaw for a rather short period of time before succumbing to the need of strangling her – and I bet Will's no different.'
'Why, Lily Evans, speaking ill of someone!' Marlene cried in fake glee. 'You must really care for me if you'd go to such extents to see me smile.'
Lily let slip a short smile and looked straight at the fire in front of her. Marlene's troubles appeared to have mildly erased, though not absolutely, Potter's handwritten note from her mind, which hours before seemed to have been marked with a red-hot iron to the back of her eyelids so she'd see it every time she closed her eyes, but that now looked more like it had been etched in a very, very deep black ink.
'Fuck Susan Crenshaw.' said Marlene, more to herself than to Lily.
'Fuck her.'
January 5th, 1971
'Do you think he'd ever fancy me?' whispered Marlene Macmillan to Dorcas Meadowes and Lily Evans, who were hovering over Alice Fawley trying to get a look at the copy of Witch Weekly her mother had sent her with the morning post.
'Who?' asked Dorcas, as she reached over the breakfast table to snatch the magazine away from Alice. She flipped through the glossy pages and stopped at a rather extensive article about a non-verbal charm to curl hair.
'Will McKinnon. You know, he's a second-year. Shares dormitory with Eugenius Mortlake and that lot.' answered Marlene, looking around as if she feared everyone was paying close attention to every word they said.
'I'm sure any boy would fancy you, Marlene.' said Lily smilingly.
'He's so good-looking.' whispered Marlene enthusiastically. Every a few seconds her eyes wandered off down the Gryffindor table towards where Will McKinnon was picking up another piece of toast as he talked with Remus Lupin and her white eyelashes fluttered furiously.
'I, for myself,' said Dorcas, not even nearly as quietly as Marlene had. 'think that Sirius Black is rotten fit. I'd say James is quite OK too if he wasn't my second cousin and I didn't see as much of him as I do.'
'James Potter!' cried Lily indignantly. 'You can't be serious!'
'Oh, Lily, James Potter is gorgeous.' said Alice Fawley, looking up from the plate of kippers before her. 'Of course, not even close to how cute Fabian Prewett is. You see, even though they are identical, Gideon is nowhere near as attractive as Fabian is...'
'I still like Will McKinnon best, though. Not that I fancy him, obviously. My mother says eleven is too young to fancy boys.' said Marlene and the rest of the girls pretended not to notice that her whole face was suddenly as red as the Gryffindor banner on the wall behind her. 'Besides, we've chatted a couple times now and I sort of believe we are friends. You aren't supposed to think your friends are good-looking.'
All the other girls nodded their heads at this reassuringly, but Marlene continued after taking another look at Will McKinnon. 'Do you think Severus Snape is good-looking, Lil?'
Lily chocked on her tea. 'Excuse me?'
'Severus Snape, Lily. He's your friend, isn't he?' Marlene waited for Lily to nod at this before asking again. 'Do you think he is attractive?'
Lily studied the Slytherin table for a moment and whispered when she answered. 'Of course not. Severus is my friend. You aren't supposed to think your friends are good-looking unless they are really, really, undeniably good-looking and I'm afraid Severus isn't.'
'Will McKinnon is really, really, undeniably good-looking.' Marlene said, but her words came out so quietly that none of the other girls heard her.
(A/N) Thanks so much for reading! I really love the plotline I have in mind for this story, and I'll upload the next chapters if people like it this far.
