Lily hated flirts. Her friend Mary was the prettiest girl in Hogwarts, so she knew all about them: they told you how good-looking you were, winked as you walked by, even got you presents just so that they could get handsy and smooch around with you for a while. Then when they were tired of you – or if, Merlin forbid, you started wanting a less superficial relationship- they dumped you like a copy of yesterday's Prophet.

Mary didn't mind though. She liked getting handsy and smooching around. But Lily hated it. And she hated James Potter for making her want to give in so badly. He would smile and wave at her over breakfast, and call over, "Hey beautiful!" He winked at her from across classrooms, and sent her white lilies and red roses on her birthday. It was all wonderful and despite all of her good sense, Lily got a warm glow whenever James looked her way… but she had no faith in flirts.

Yes, it wasn't easy to keep on turning the handsome boy down, but Lily told herself that she was waiting for something better, something more everlasting. By the time she reached sixth year though, she began to lose faith that such things even existed.

Mulciber was another one. He was cruder than Potter, but he his intentions were clear all the same. It started with him gaping at her whenever they were in a room together. Soon after he began following her around, sometimes bringing his Slytherin friends with him. Finally, he cornered her in the library, and told her he could ignore her low blood if she would go out with him. Then, as if it would help to convince her, he added that he thought that her hair was really nice. Lily had never met anyone so simpleminded.

When she turned him down, he told her he'd get back at her… and the twisted boy was true to his word. That very night, while she was on patrol in the dungeons, he set fiend fyre to her hair. True, she didn't actually see him do it, but she knew that it couldn't be anyone else.

Not for nothing was she top of her year though – Lily cut her hair before the flames reached her scalp and contained the cursed flames before they could harm her – but even so the incident was jarring. Of course, being Lily, she didn't admit this to her friends. Oh, they panicked when they found out what happened, but not her. Lily was tough as nails, unflappable. She was the muggleborn Head Girl who dared to speak her mind in a time when even the bravest wizards didn't, and she wasn't about to tell her friends how sick she felt inside. Because she did feel sick. Mulciber – stupid, weak, cowardly Mulciber – had scared her. Badly.

Later that night, when her friends were all asleep, she looked at herself in the mirror and cried for the first time in years: Lily hated how she looked without her long red hair. Even more than that, she hated that she cared so much about it. But she felt smaller now: her flaming locks were her trademark, and if that could be ruined so easily by someone as pathetic as Mulciber, than how much damage could real Death Eaters cause? Besides, the scraggly, boyishly short mess she had remaining seemed to mock her – she couldn't grow it back with magic. Fiend-fyre had ruined it for good.

The following morning during breakfast, no one said anything to Lily about her hair. Some stared at the large bald patch above her ear, and some people noticed that Mulciber was mysteriously absent from the Slytherin table… but if they managed to put two and two together to make four, they kindly kept it to themselves. Lily, for her part, couldn't bring herself to look anyone in the eye. If it wasn't for her pride, she would have worn a hat.

"Evans?"

James Potter had just walked into the hall. Trust him to be the only person lacking the tact to leave her alone. Swallowing and turning to face him, Lily glared, "What is it, Potter?"

He met her dark gaze unflinchingly and gave her a small smile: "Good morning, beautiful."

His tone wasn't mocking. Nor was it pitying. Actually, it was exactly the same as it always was: flirty. And, though Lily could hardly believe it, it had the same effect on her as it always did: James' words made her feel prettier… and also less sick and scared somehow. That one little compliment was all it took for Lily to feel her courage begin to return.

Then James winked at her with a "Ciao for now," and left to find a place to sit down.

But he was stopped in his tracks by Lily calling after him, "James?"

He turned, giving her the most dazzling smile, "Yeah?"

"Er… have a good day."

James's expression turned to one of surprise for a moment, and then he was smiling even wider than he had been before, "Well, now I definitely will! But do you know what would make this day even better?"

"What?"

"If you went out with me, of course!"

Lily rolled her eyes melodramatically, but as James chuckled and walked away to sit with his friends, he couldn't help but realize that technically, she hadn't turned him down.

And Lily? It wasn't until a few more minutes had passed – once that glow had subsided - that she noticed that her hair was once again as long as it had ever been.

Years later, Mary told her that it had started growing the moment James called her name.