I know the last thing I need is a new story in the works, but I just can't help myself when inspiration strikes! This is a James/Lily with a bit of a twist. As ever, my only wish is for you to enjoy and if there's enough interest I will continue it. Thanks all!

'Cause in my head there's a greyhound station
where I send my thoughts to far off destinations

-Death Cab for Cutie

Chapter One: And Other Misdemeanors

Some people spend a lot of time deliberating over what they want to do with their lives; deciding whether they throw themselves out there and make a difference, or become one of those wizards who spends the remainder of their days trapped behind a desk trying to decide whether a cauldron is an illegal size because it's half a centimetre out of proportion, as it really can be a difficult decision. Not that I'm belittling Illegal-Cauldron-Judgers of anything, I'm sure it's a perfectly legitimate career path. If you're into that sort of thing. And as dull as a board. I, of course, am neither, so find myself quite contentedly falling into the first category. Throwing myself out there, making a difference.

Well, that's the plan anyway.

For me it was never a tough decision. I'd always known exactly what I wanted to do with my future and I stuck with it. Well, that's a lie, when I was really little I rather fancied myself becoming a rock-star-master-chef, but that's a story for another time. And if you laugh I'll hate you because that is what you call a legitimate career path. I just didn't have the strength of will to follow it through. My one true regret, I can assure you. Anyway, I'm going off on one – the fact that I'd been pretty clear on what I wanted to do after Hogwarts made things a lot easier for me, and made all of those Careers Advice interviews they'd given us throughout seventh year completely pointless.

Well, I suppose not completely pointless. Professor Marsdale had an impressive rack.

The job I chose was a toughie, anyway. Had to get Exceeds Expectations in all my subjects, which was actually kinda easy because I'm basically a straight O student. No, it's not arrogance; I kindly refer to it as "self-assuredness". But I digress. Everyone always assumes that graduation is this wonderful experience, where every teacher at Hogwarts sends you off with kisses and hugs and warm wishes for the future, leaving you bright and optimistic about the path you're going to take.

Lies. And. Slander.

It's quite the contrary, actually. Once you're no longer a student there and they can't have charges pressed against them for sticking a boot up your ass, they do exactly that. Hell, they practically pack your bags for you and yell "don't hurry back!" as you're leaving. Or maybe that was just me. And Professor Sinatra. I'm sorry, okay, but Divination is a crap subject and Sinatra was a manipulative mood-swinging son-of-a who was probably just as pleased to see the back of my head as I was at her favourite pet rat hanging from the chandelier in her classroom in fourth year. She had an unhealthy obsession with it; it was really for the better of the animal that I put it up there. I was essentially an activist acting in its defence. I was a hero. Basically I'm just a saviour for the whole animal kingdom.

Obviously.

This hero was busy trying to push himself through a busy London street, rucksack over one shoulder and pocket full of optimism at the ready as I reached my destination – with any luck I wouldn't be late, but my roommate/best friend/relentless-tormentor chose not to wake me up at the time I asked him to, so the chances are I'd end up less punctual than I would prefer on my first day at my new job. I reached an old brick building which, if I'm honest, looked a bit doomed, a battered metal sign swinging overhead reading Purge and Dowse, Ltd being the only clue that I'd made it to the right place. Don't worry, I haven't ended up throwing myself into some weird career in some rundown muggle department store – no, this sign was only a ruse. Where I was really going involved me stepping through the glass much as I had a certain barrier between Platforms 9 and 10 for the last seven years of my life.

I felt a coolness wash over me I'd come to associate with magical barriers, and the busy room I'd stepped into felt, if possible, even busier than the street outside. Along the wall to my left and spiralling around the circular reception were rows of not-too-comfortable waiting chairs, occupied sporadically by the odd man or woman sporting an extra arm, an elephant trunk, and even missing vital extremities in others. I winced as I passed a man clutching very tightly to his Niagara's, and could only sympathise with whatever he'd managed to do to them. A few turned to me with pleading looks when they spotted my white uniform, but I could only helplessly point to my bright red armband citing me as a Trainee, and try and make a hasty exit as I headed towards the front desk.

If you haven't figured it out yet, let me help; this is St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, and yes, I am a Healer in Training. So basically I really am a hero, if you get what I mean. Unfortunately currently this hero was running really very late, so as I reached the front desk I tapped it lightly to gain the attention of the pretty brunette receptionist.

"This is St. Mungo's, how can I help?"

"I'm one of the new trainees? I know I'm so late, I just had an issue with my roommate this morning and..." I could tell by her knowing smile she probably didn't need further elaboration. Stupid smug cow. I bet she's slept with Sirius. Maybe she even put him up to it?

Her chestnut eyes sparkled with good-natured amusement, but I was frustrated. "There's always one, Mr. Potter, don't worry," I wondered how she could've known my name before remembering I was wearing a name badge. "Down that hall, eighth door on your left – that's the conference hall, where you'll be starting your orientation. Have a nice day."

Offering her a muttered thank you I charged down the corridor in question, taking a moment to compose myself before opening the door and mentally bracing for whatever would be on the other side. By all accounts it seemed pretty normal, the entrance I'd just used sitting at the side of a large hall kind of area, rows of grey-topped tables, each with a place set with a quill and ink for taking notes like a knife and fork at a table. Most of these seats were taken, attendees to a figurative last supper with the dreading looks to boot, and a room full of eyes swivelled around to face that guy who was late.

(That was me. Keep following.)

"Ah, welcome," a firm tone came from my right – what I had seemingly decided not to look at was the authority figure, standing looking incredibly bored at the podium with a neatly trimmed buzz cut and a jaw line that had a firmness that rivalled the sleek trim on the new Cleansweep 5. I mean holy cow, I could slice bricks in two with a jaw like that. Unfortunately, he didn't look too impressed with me. He made a show of looking at his list slowly as I hovered uncertainly by the door, not sure where I should try and find a seat. "You must be the elusive Mr. Potter, punctual as a star. Congratulations, you just made it onto the list of Healer Hopkins' Most Despised."

I was unsure what to make of this.

"My name is Healer Hopkins; find your ass a chair, Mr. Potter."

Having the good grace to look guilty, and mildly mortified at being on my superior's "Most Despised" list within twenty minutes of being on the job (I would kill Sirius), I made a beeline for the nearest available seat on the end of a row with a bunch of other guys dressed in white robes, all with red armbands to match mine indicating the Healer-In-Training status. Unfortunately for me, I had to pick the worst possible vacant seat in the room.

"Ugh, I forgot you were going to be here," came the tired sigh from beside me as a hand reached to brush an auburn bang from an emerald eye.

Instead I rolled my eyes. "Don't get too excited Lily, this was the only free seat in the house."

She clicked her tongue before hissing back. "I can't believe you actually think you get to be funny right now. You walk in here twenty fucking minutes late and you think you have the right to be funny?"

"You think I'm funny?"

A loud throat clearing had me thinking our conversation wasn't as quiet as we thought. "When you two are finished, I actually have the next generation of Healers to start lecturing, requires full-frontal focus, thanks."

I coughed and decided that this man had an even crappier sense of humour than old Professor Sinatra. What I wouldn't give for a mood-swing Divination-induced sandwich-throwing competition like we all had fun in during fifth year to get myself out of the overhanging awkwardness. Instead I waved a hand for him to continue and decided burying my face into the overly bushy curls of my ex-girlfriend would grant me more ills than favours, and sat through my embarrassment alone.

Healer Hopkins milked it. Sweet baby Merlin I thought he would keep staring pointedly and never get back to the shit he was supposed to be doing.

"Let me clear one thing out right now, before we get started in anything serious. All of you bright-faced bucks who entered this room hoping to make a difference need to prepare yourselves for some serious bullshit over the next few years," he hesitated, as if something he said might've been wrong. "Afterthought - if my language bothers you, you'll hear worse once you're removing a child's-first-broom from the rear end of their overly indulgent father, while the mother screams 'I should have married your brother'. Been there, and I've had worse. You think people come in here with real problems? I can guarantee you eighty percent of the people outside that door are here because they fucked up magic. So get that into your head before you start trying to change the world."

I chanced a look around; I couldn't be the only one feeling like I'd walked into the wrong seminar. 'Um, sorry, I was here for Healer Training? My James-Potter-versus-the-world class isn't until this afternoon. I've been practicing my why-am-I-so-much-sexier-than-everyone-else face especially.' From what I could gather, I wasn't entirely alone in my discomfort. I was half tempted to turn around and try and gauge the reaction of the redhead beside me, but I think if I look at her too long I might turn to stone. She seems to share this feeling, although if she looked at me she'd probably be trapped in a whole other way, if you know what I'm saying. I'm sort of irresistible.

"To the next order of business," Hopkins' sharp tone cut across my thinking, and I found myself actually staring at his jaw line a little more than I should. No but seriously, I bet he bends razors on that thing. "At the moment, each and every one of you is a killer. Each and every one of you will kill someone, or injure someone, or remove some necessary appendages with a badly-placed sharp object if you work without my direct supervision."

I leaned very slightly to my left and whispered quietly; "You know, you really came close to that with your Charms textbook on the day before graduation."

"Don't talk to me."

"You're kind of moody, right? It's unbecoming."

Lily's smile, saccharine sweet, didn't fool me for a second. "You're kind of a prick, you know that?"

I grinned. I knew.

"As of this moment," Hopkins said louder, as if to draw attention back to his podium and perfectly sculpted chin. "None of you will touch a patient unless I tell you to. Understood?" There was silence, none of us really sure if he wanted some kind of response. "Excuse me, ladies, I can't tell if you understood me or whether I'm just wasting air and seconds of my life on a pack of idealistic pygmy puffs. Do you. Understand?"

A murmur of assent rippled through the crowd and he seemed content with this, shuffling a few more of his papers. What the fuck did I just walk into, boot camp?

"I need a volunteer." No one wanted to take up the mantle; actually, I'm pretty sure almost everyone shrank back in their seat. Hopkins rolled his eyes. "Potter that means you." I blinked in surprise and he stared at me as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Of course, how silly of me not to realise.

"Right," I muttered, standing up and raising my eyebrows in silent question. What did he want me to do?

He waved a hand. "Get down here asshole; I said I need a volunteer not a traffic cone." Doing as I was told, I wandered, albeit a little warily, down to where he was standing and he pulled me closer still as I reached him. "Your first lesson today involves the most basic aspect of healing - no matter where you are in this dump, you will remember this." It felt distinctly more like a threat than a lesson. Up close he was a little less scary - his grey eyes spoke of a battle-worn weariness and the wrinkles suggested age, but there was a hardiness about him I could only identify as being the price of experience. I found myself wondering how many people he'd watched pass on in his time at St. Mungo's.

"I call them the three B's, and they are the most important thing about a diagnosing a patient's immediate problem. First - breathing," he grabbed my chin painfully and forced me to look upwards, placing his other palm just above the base of my neck. "Is your patient breathing? If they're not, you're fucked and need to think about resus - that's something we'll get into later. Second," to this he kicked the back of my knee and I winced, the reflex causing me to fall forwards and lose my balance, landing painfully on my knees. "Bones. Do you see any bones? If you do, are they in the right place? The right shape? If you don't, should you?" Man was a fucking madman, and yet he held the whole room in such fixed rapt attention that I admired him for it. When he wasn't causing me physical harm. For the final part of his apparent lecture he stood behind me and put one hand on either side of my face and tensed them, his grip so firm I could barely move. "The last one is blood. If you see some, your patient is in trouble. Those are the essentials to an emergency. Remember them, and you'll be one penguin step closer to transforming yourself from a killer to somebody useful."

His vice like grip didn't release, and instead he knelt down on his haunches beside me and hissed in my ear. "Turn up late for one of my lectures again, Mr. Potter, and I'll make sure you never set another foot inside this Hospital. Are we clear?"

I swallowed. "Crystal."

Healer training is really a far from complicated thing, as was explained to us. In the mornings you attended seminars to do with the basics of healing; this was where you learnt all your theory, and what I'd just sat in on with Hopkins. After lunch we did rounds, heading around Mungo's with a Healer-in-Charge to try and get to grips with the workings of the well-oiled machine known as the whole hospital, and to try and apply our newfound knowledge into treatments of patients. After that, we go our separate ways and rotate shifts. Essentially, we're supposed to help out where we can, but we're not supposed to perform any sort of procedures without the supervision of a fully trained Healer or Medinurse. Which totally suits me, because with Hopkins' charming speech this morning on how all I was at the moment was an untrained killer, I didn't much feel like going within five feet of a genuine sick person.

Which really wasn't where I was planning this whole Healer thing to go.

Rounds had been reasonably uneventful; mercifully we'd been passed over to the charming Healer Mullins who proved to be patient and witty in equal measure, rather than the condescension and belittling we'd come to expect from Hopkins in the few short hours we'd spent together. It looked like not every Healer in the place was a narcissistic prick who, as of a few hours ago, officially had it out for me. Mullins had let us go around four in the afternoon, and she'd advised us to spend the next few hours trying to find our own way around the hospital and getting comfortable with the information overload we'd been given over the past few hours; which of course we all interpreted as "go to the staff lounge and chill out". It'd been a long day, and there was still each other to get to know.

There actually weren't as many Trainee Healers as the crowd in the conference room had initially suggested - there had also been Trainee Medinurses, Mediwizards, Researchers, and various other support staff, characterized by their green, orange, blue and yellow armbands respectively. I won't bother going into detail about what they involve - if you're interested, you should go to those Careers Advice meetings and work it out. Tell Professor Marsdale I send my love, am single, and no longer a student. Unless Sirius has gotten there first, in which case I'd rather you said nothing at all. I do have some standards.

As for the Trainee Healers, we were a bit of a ragtag group; six of us in total. Myself and the charming Lily Evans, an ally I'd recently made in the shy, stuttering, unfortunately named Hippocrates Smethwyck, the thirty-year-old Eddie White (it's never too late?), an old classmate Mary Macdonald and the so far silent-but-deadly(-maybe?) Anneka Milaine. It was to this group I was heading towards when I made my way back to the staff lounge, but loud noises from one of the supply closets to my left caught me off-guard, and I paused to listen.

I'm not a pervert, okay? I know what people get up to in those closets, I've heard all the stories - but this certainly didn't sound like a cheeky bit of rough and tumble, in fact what I could identify as insults seemed to be flying back and forth. I'm a Gryffindor at heart, and just at the sound of that I opened the door and blinked at the sight before me. The supply closet consisted of narrow rows upon rows of medicinal and healing supplies, in what appeared to be an almost endless room - as far as I'm aware, every supply closet door around Mungo's leads into this room, and from what I've heard it really is endless. Ah magic, how I love thee. But what garnered my attention was not the vastness of the space, but the young man sat hunched against one of the shelves trying to protect his face from two men standing over him. I identified the younger man as Hippocrates Smethwyck, a fellow Trainee, and the white robes sans the armbands of the two others cited them as fully trained Healers.

"Isn't this place for curing injuries, not making them?" I looked from one to the other and they stepped back; I could spot blood on the knuckle of the first and I narrowed my eyes.

One of them glared at me, before grabbing Smethwyck by the collar of his robes and pulling him into an upright position. He whimpered. "Stay out of what you don't understand, trainee."

Now that didn't sit right with me at all. "I understand that it's two against one, and call me old fashioned but isn't that a little unfair?"

"You wanna make it two on two?" The second guy stepped up, reaching for his wand and I reached for mine in the same moment. I was spared from having either to think of a spell super fast or having the shit kicked out of me by the door I'd just entered through opening, and Healer-in-Charge Jack Hopkins stepping in, whistling a merry tune before taking in what he'd walked in on.

He shot all four of us a feigned confused look, his tone as patronising as ever. "Is it some kind of mating ritual? I see wands and I see blood, but it better not be a fight because that sets a very negative example in a place of healing." Well, I know what they say about great minds, but I wasn't sure I enjoyed the prospect of being compared to Hopkins. He dropped the act, gritting his teeth. "Ladies, put them away and get the fuck out of my supply closet."

The first thing I did was head over to Smethwyck and see if he was alright – as far as I could tell only his bottom lip was bleeding and he looked a little shaken up, but the Healers hadn't done much to him. I turned and saw Hopkins muttering angrily to the pair of them before shoving one and looking back over to us as they left, the first throwing me a particularly rude gesture which I suspected didn't bode well for any potential future friendships.

"You okay, Smethy?" He asked as he came over, ignoring me completely and checking on Smethwyck.

"Yeah, I – I think so, they just caught me off guard."

Hopkins gritted his teeth. "I told you not to come into the closet alone, you're just setting yourself up to get cornered and pissed on."

"I came in for some spare robes for a Medinurse, she said she got blood all over hers, sorry Hop."

Hopkins jerked a thumb at me. "Fourth shelf on your left, Potter." I did as I was told and pulled out some neatly folded white robes with a pigment green sash visible across the top. "I'm not always going to come to your rescue, so you need to man up and learn how to punch back." Smethwyck nodded.

"I don't mean to interrupt," I frowned. "But if those guys were just in here beating the crap out of a trainee, isn't there some kind of disciplinary measure that needs to be taken? Shouldn't you fire them?"

"It's not up to me," Hopkins returned, and for a moment I thought I saw a hint of genuine compassion there when he lifted his wand to tap Smethwyck's lip and the blood disappeared. "We've got too few Healers and too many patients to start booting out fully trained medicinal men. Now get out you bunch of girls before I make you." We didn't need telling twice, and Smethwyck and I practically tumbled out of the door in our haste to get away from him.

"I wouldn't want to run into him in a dark alley," Smethwyck mumbled, straightening out the robes in his hands.

"You're telling me. Did you see what he did to me in orientation this morning?"

Smethwyck gave me a shy smile. "Thanks for coming in. I have a feeling I might have lost a little more blood if you were any later."

"Well you've got Hopkins pretty well trained, so I doubt you really needed me," I waved a dismissive hand but smiled nonetheless. "How did you do that so fast, anyway?" If it were me in there, I doubt Hopkins would have done a thing. "Scratch that, I'd much rather know what the hell was going on back there."

Here Smethwyck's steps faltered and he hung his head sheepishly. "I, um, I was here last year. Hop knows me pretty well by now. And don't worry about those guys, I deserved it."

"That's bullshit, no one deserves that," I insisted.

"Yeah, well, when you fail your exams and end up stuck in general training for another year you kinda feel like having the crap beaten out of you once in a while."

Now I felt like I understood. "Were those guys trainees with you last year?"

"Yep. And I'm the failure."

"Hey, come on, I've heard stories about loads of great Healers who failed their first year. What about Carly Montello, right? The only Healer to ever complete the twenty-four-hour shift, and she failed her first two years." I read about that in one of the textbooks I'd been obligated to buy for training – the twenty-four-hour shift was an old unofficial competition to see if you can stay awake and on the job for twenty-four hours, and you have to treat a minimum of fifty patients. Carly Montello managed sixty-seven, and so far she was my hero.

Smethwyck grimaced. "At least people liked her."

"I like you," I shrugged, but Smethwyck looked doubtful.

"That's Mungo's social suicide."

"Well, Hopkins already hates me so I don't see the problem with the whole hospital following his example."

At this Smethwyck chuckled. "Hop is just a big puppy, he likes to pick on someone every year. Last year it was this trainee called Marvin, and he nearly ran him out of Mungo's it was so bad – he finished the year top of his class. Hop picks on the guys he thinks have potential." This didn't sound right to me, he'd never even met me at the point he put me on his 'Most Despised'. I was late, now he hates me; it sounded pretty textbook without all the psychoanalysis crap.

"Wish I could believe you Hippo, wish I could," I sighed.

"Um, I better go get these robes to that Medinurse, she's up in Creature Induced Injuries. Maybe I'll see you later?" He looked at me hopefully, and I gave him a reassuring smile.

"Absolutely."

So maybe he was no Sirius Black, but he was nice enough and I have a bit of a chivalry complex when it comes to damsels in distress, regardless of gender. If nothing else maybe I could help keep the older Healers off his back, and considering the amount of enemies I seem to have made so far it'd be nice to get myself an ally. Sheesh, I've been here, what, seven hours? I didn't exactly cut myself many breaks. Mungo's was supposed to my chance for a fresh start; where I could leave all the pranks behind and establish my new persona as being hardworking and capable, something which is really needed in this day and age.

I know, I know. It was a tall order. But a kid can dream, right?

Speaking of hardworking individuals who didn't cut me any breaks, I spotted Lily Evans talking to a Medinurse and perusing a chart animatedly and I couldn't help but smile. Trust her to get stuck in straight away. We actually discussed the healing programme together, you know? Back in seventh year – besides the fact it was something we were both really interested in, it seemed like the perfect thing to do together. Of course that was before everything got shot to shit, but what can you do. If you have questions, let me answer them plain and simple; we were juvenile, and couldn't sustain it. I know after three years of pursuing her I expected us to last a little bit longer than five months, but when you're pushing something that just won't go you know when to call it quits. And throw Charms textbooks at each other. Yup.

"Lily," I slid up behind her and gave her a dazzling smile as soon as the Medinurse left her. "What'cha looking at?"

She gave me a withering look. "None of your business."

"Hey, listen," I swiped the chart from her grasp and held it out of her reach when she tried to grab it back, settling for hiding it behind my back as I tried to garner her attention. "I know we're not really friends right now –" She snorted. "But this Healer thing is crazy, and I was hoping we could just be adults and let bygones be bygones so we can get along for the next year. You know, so I don't have to fear for my favourite appendages because of those dangerously heavy healing textbooks in your possession." This elicited a very small reluctant smile from her, and my triumph was unparalleled. Despite being angry with me this morning, she could at least still appreciate my sense of humour.

She pursed her lips, as if pondering this. "I say... while I'm sure that would be the right thing to do and I commend you for your maturity," she surprised me and grabbed for the chart while I was distracted. "You did really screw me over, James," I blinked. "And I don't really want to be your friend."

I opened my mouth to protest but she held up a hand. "It's nothing against you personally, although you did strut around like a royal prat in orientation, praise Merlin for Healer Hopkins –"

"Hey!"

"– But if anyone else had done to me the same thing you did, I wouldn't want to hang around with them either. Yeah, it's sad, and I'll miss the banter, but a girl's got to survive the best way she can. So do me a favour and bugger off, okay James?" I was completely dumbfounded and she offered me a coy smile and tapped me lightly on the cheek as she left, my gaze unwittingly following her as she went.

I called out after her. "We can't even be civil?"

She looked back over her shoulder with a nonchalant shrug. "Depends on my mood."

Damn, I missed the banter.

About to continue my path up to the staff lounge where I'd been heading to initially, I turned a corner and collided right into an older man in a purple dressing gown – about to utter an apology and head on my way, I found my arms reaching out instinctively to catch his limp body as he fell to the ground, and my heart slammed into overdrive.

"A little help over here!" I called out immediately, assessing the man as best I could before remembering what I'd learned in orientation that morning. Three B's. Blood, bones, and –

"Clear his airway James, now!" Lily was at my side in a flash and I did as I was told, pulling at the collar of the tight pyjama style shirt. I knew some basics, and pressed a finger to the base of his throat.

Panic was now rising through me in waves. "He's not breathing." Holy, holy fucking crap. Lily remained completely calm though, and pulled out her wand and muttered something, touching the tip to his lips and then to his chest. Nothing happened and she frowned, and I remembered that quirk of her eyebrow meant she was worried. I repeated my call for help to anyone else who might be around the nearby corridors, and thankfully I spotted a few Medinurses sprinting towards us.

Just like that, though, the man convulsed and began gasping for breath like a fish out of water, clutching onto me as if his life depended on it. In a flash we were being ushered out of the way as one of the Medinurses conjured a floating gurney and levitated him onto it, jogging to some far off room without another word. It was like clockwork in this place.

I turned to Lily, pocketing her wand and wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead as I tried to calm my racing heart. "What the hell was that?" I asked, pointing at her wand and still trying to wrap my head around what had just happened. That man hadn't been breathing; that man had nearly died.

She shrugged, staring in the direction of where the man had been taken. "Basic resus. Resuscitation, like Hopkins said this morning," I remembered, but frowned because we hadn't actually been taught it - he'd only mentioned it. "I read ahead a few chapters."

And there it was. Just like that she was exactly the same girl I'd known throughout the whole of my time at Hogwarts, and she'd saved my ass for what must be the hundredth time. "You sly fox," I grinned appreciatively.

I could tell by the way she glowed that she appreciated the compliment, but she tried to wave it off flippantly. "Anyone could've done it. Even you."

"That was harsh."

"Good thing we're not friends, then." She arched an eyebrow at me before picking her chart off the floor and making to head back the way she'd come. It was as I watched the flow of her red hair, tied into a practical ponytail, and the white robes swishing about her that I felt the all too familiar gnawing in the bottom of my stomach and in the recesses of my heart that could only mean I'd realised one thing, three months too late.

Breaking up with Lily Evans was one of the worst mistakes I'd ever made.

Shit.

Thoughts? Good, bad, ugly? I'd love to hear from you!

~MyWhitelighter