Prologue
Lily Evans had a legitimate reason for despising James Potter. Most people thought it was for some stupid reason, because of a prank or something of that ilk. But the truth was, Lily Evans hated James Potter because she loved him, because she couldn't stop loving him. No matter what she did, she couldn't get him out of her head, and that made her furious.
Every day she was forced to put on a mask and hide how she felt. She had to keep secret that every single bloody time she looked at James she remembered; the feel of her small hand wrapped in his larger, warm one, the sound of his laugh and the gentle rumble of his chest under her hand or head when he chuckled, and especially her first kiss. Oh bloody hell did she remember that with alarming clarity. It had been his first kiss too, and it had been silly and sloppy and a bit awkward, but it had been absolutely perfect. She remembered all the kisses they had shared afterwards, and the feel of her hands in his constantly messy hair, and the sounds of his voice when he had whispered that he loved her, thinking she had been asleep and unable to hear him. Merlin, did she remember.
And she hated him, because she couldn't forget, because she wanted it back, and because she knew she couldn't have it. Ever again.