A/N: The first chapter of a new fanfic! I hope this turns out well, I really do.

The first day back is like being at the zoo. The first years are like little mouse-deer, gazing around with huge eyes at the platform (have they never seen a train?), scampering around like timid deer on spindly legs (my goodness, have their parents been feeding them enough?) and being trampled on by gorillas of seniors. And I meant that last bit literally.

"Hey you!" I yelled at a fellow seventh year, Anthony Gorrila, as he squished a little eleven-year-old kid under his size seventeen feet, "Watch where you're going!" Anthony turned towards me, scratching his gorilla head and probably launching a shower of dandruff onto the first year's head. Poor kid.

"Huh?" He asked, not knowing that there was a kid squashed under his hairy foot. Of all the oblivious guys! I pushed through the throng towards him, dodging three speeding trolleys and a large woman dragging her son through the crowd.

"Hey Lily," Anthony waved, "Had a nice holiday?" He stuck out his hand to shake, but I pretended to ignore it. Goodness only knows where he last stuck his hand. Hopefully not in his pants to scratch that huge baboon ass of his. Obviously, he wasn't into hygiene, although he could use a bottle of hand sanitizer and a bath now and then.

"Uh Anthony? You might want to look down," I replied. He looked down. The first year was thrashing under the monster shoe, his face red from yelling, though he could not be heard over the din. Yes, that's how loud the platform was.

"Oh," said Anthony very intelligently, "Sorry." He looked at me, then looked down again at the screaming first year. The first year was still trapped under the shoe. I resisted the urge to smack Anthony. Honestly, seven years in Hogwarts and still missing some vital brains?

"Uh Anthony? You might want to move your shoe," I hinted.

"Oh, right." He lifted off his shoe and parked his shoe on someone else's luggage, flattening it immediately. The poor luggage stood no chance against Anthony's killer heel. Oh well. At least the first year was safe. Standing beside me, he looked like a shaken mouse. I could almost see his whiskers twitching from his traumatic experience. He shivered from fear and shrinked from Anthony.

"Hello," I said gently, "I'm Lily." He quivered and squeaked, despite my gentle tone.

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you. I'm the head girl for this year, I'll look after you." He seemed calmed by my words and I hoped he felt better.

"What's your name?" I asked and he met my eyes for the first time.

"I'm Bobby. Bobby Mouser," He answered shyly. Mouser. Okay, so that explained his behavior. I brought him to the first years' compartment, where he wouldn't be trampled on by large seventh years'. My good friend Alice Prewett was there taking charge of the youngsters and I waved to her.

"Shouldn't you be patrolling the train somewhere?" She asked after we exchanged hellos.

"I'm on a more stressful job," I replied dryly, "I'm patrolling the platform." Alice clucked sympathetically, then shooed me away.

Right, back to the zoo.

"Hey! Stop climbing over the trolleys!" I yelled to two boys climbing over a pile of discarded trolleys. They saw me, thought they were in trouble and scampered off.

"Wait, stop! You're going to crash into the-" A crashing noise "wall." I finished. Too late. I rushed over to the two boys.

"Are you okay?" I asked the boys, after giving them a once-over. They were twins, so it was practically impossible to tell them apart, except that one sported a giant bruise and the other a nosebleed. And possibly a broken nose. Stupid little boys.

"Ouch," The one with the nosebleed said, clutching his nose, "I dink my dose is boken." I sighed, then decided to bring them to the school nurse. Thank goodness Dumbledore had the foresight of having a nurse on the train. I mopped up his nosebleed with some tissues, then headed towards the nurse. His twin jumped around me, disregarding the lump on his head, which sadly did not give him a concussion, asking me all sorts of questions as we made our way to the nurse.

"What's going to happen to Matthew? Is his nose broken? Are you a seventh year?" He asked, bouncing like he was on crack.

"I don't know. I think so. Yes I am a seventh year," I tried to keep calm and answer him.

"Are you in Ravenclaw? Are you smart? Do you think you're pretty?"

"No I'm in Gryffindor. I guess? Uh I don't think so?"

"Why not? I think you're pretty," He said seriously and I could almost hug him. How sweet-

"Which professor do you like best?" He asked again. Okay, maybe again, not so sweet, I thought as another barrage of questions came my way.

"Why are clouds blue? Do you like James Potter? Do you-" Wait, what?

"What?" I asked, "James Potter? Ew no way ever! How did you know him anyway?"

"Everyone says you like him! It's so obvious!" I stared at him incredulously.

"What? Since when? No way!" I sputtered, "I hate him!" He cocked his head to the side, like he was thinking about something. Oh. No. Please, no.

"Why don't you like James Potter?" He asked innocuously. Not that question again!

"Oh look! We're here," I exclaimed with fake enthusiasm. The nurse saw Matthew and beckoned to me. Thank goodness I evaded the question.

"Stay with your brother and don't run around anymore," I instructed the other boy. He nodded his head vigorously and turned to go.

"Wait!" Someone tugged on my robes, "I'm Matthias Munk-Key and that's my brother Matthew. We're twins." Like I didn't know they were twins earlier. Munk-Key. That would explain it.

Why do I dislike James Potter so much? Truth was, I didn't know the answer anymore. I mean, he annoyed me to no end for the past six years by asking me out. Is it just me, or does it seem like a really juvenile reason to 'hate' someone? Hear my resolution, I will give James Potter a chance this year and not pass judgment on him until I am sure he is utterly detestable. Or decent, although the latter seems downright impossible.

At the exact moment I made my resolution, James Potter levitated Severus Snape and hung him upside down. He and his group of friends were the center of attention on the busy platform, and the man of the moment himself was smirking arrogantly.

Breathe, Lily.

Throw all my good resolutions away. That bloody James Potter! Must he always hold stupid grudges? Severus never did anything to him other than an occasional verbal insult, which did not deserve a public humiliation at the hands of Potter and gang. Marauders. What rubbish. They were more like playground bullies. Honestly, grow up! You might think, seventeen-bloody-years-old guys would know how to control themselves.

"Potter!" I screamed, my throat hurting from all the overuse. He looked at me and let Severus down. I was not surprised that he already knew what I was going to yell at him for.

"Hello Lils. Had a good holiday?" He asked me, smirking. I fumed. That bloody idiot was still so happy after bullying Severus? What a fart.

"Let Severus be, Potter! He doesn't deserve your bullying!" I yelled at him. His smirk disappeared.

"You didn't see what happened before that. Your precious Severus was bullying the first years. I came in to protect them, not bully Severus. Believe me, I want to wipe that oily smile off his greasy face, but I'm on patrol. I can't misbehave," He said very seriously. I was momentarily stunned. Since when had James Potter ever been serious? He waited my reply, his face not breaking out in a megawatt smirk that was his 'Potter trademark'. I was about to tell him that I made an error when realization dawned on me.

Wait, what?

"Patrolling? But you aren't a Prefect," I asked, confused. He flashed a smile.

"You're right. I'm not. Dumbledore made me Head Boy," He replied.

Wait, WHAT? My brain must be going crazy. How could James Potter, prankster extraordinaire, be Head Boy?

"Wait, what?"

"Unbelievable, isn't it?" James shrugged, "My mum nearly had a heart attack when she saw my badge." He pointed to a shiny badge on his robes, almost identical to my own, except with 'Head Boy' on it.

My jaw dropped wide open and for once I was rendered speechless. How? How? How? Countless 'Hows' ran through my brain and I stared at his badge, uncomprehending.

"Close your mouth, Lils. It isn't ladylike," He smirked at me, snapping me back to reality. I glowered at him. Piss off, Potter. I was angry and no one likes dealing with an angry Lily. Uh-uh.

"I can't believe I have to put up with you for my last year!" I exploded, "What have I done to deserve this?" I made to punch him, but he caught my fist easily.

"Easy now, Lils. We're going to have to work together for the whole year," He said calmly, trying to pacify me. Hearing his words only made my blood boil.

"Don't call me Lils! You're a bloody jerk and a freaking pain in the bloody arse!" I yelled at him, "Not to mention you're an annoying git and an arrogant prat of an arsehole!" He pulled my fists and clamped a hand over my mouth, effectively stopping my tirade. I tried biting him but he held on firmly. When I licked him, all he did was give me a disgusted look. He didn't need to do that. I was already gagging from the possible Potter germs I could have gotten from his hand.

"Thanks for the insults, luv, but shush, you're making a scene here," He whispered once I had stopped squirming.

Shit.

Belatedly, I realised that the whole platform of people had stopped to look at us fighting. The Head Boy and Head Girl. How dignified. Oh dammit, I thought, as I caught sight of a group of first years staring at us with wide eyes and open mouths, shocked by our, okay, my outburst. My language was not for their ears! It was my first day at school and already managed to spew inappropriate language and cause a scene. How bloody awesome. Not to mention I probably looked like a wild animal myself, with my hair mussed up and my face red from shouting. Shit. I glared at the Marauders, to whom I utterly blamed for the entire mess. Sirius saw me glaring at him and practically howled with laughter. Reminder: Kill Sirius later. But what an embarrassment! Right after what I was disgusted by James Potter and co's lack of control, I displayed the same impulsivity. Damn. Damn!

"Shit!" I cursed in a whisper just loud enough for Potter to hear, "What do we do?"

He winked at me then announced, "Gentlemen, Ladies, we appreciate your kind attention, but Miss Evans and I are heading to our carriage now. So long, folks." With that, he dragged me off to the sound of wolf-whistles and claps. As we left, I wrenched my arms from his grasp. He relented, sauntering beside me towards the heads' carriage, looking as if he had not a care in the world, whistling as he strutted with all the arrogance of a peacock. No, worse than a peacock. Peacocks are prettier. His attitude infuriated me, and I could not help but get steadily more pissed at him.

"What does that mean, you beanhead?" I whispered angrily, "Did you just imply-"

"That we were somehow romantically involved? Yes I did, luv," Potter replied mischievously, "Give them something to talk about."

"Eurgh! You arrogant prat! I hate you!"

"That's old news, luv. I already knew that. But there's a fine line between hate and love, that's what they all say."

"I am not with you and I will never be!" I whispered back.

"Hey, want to hear a pick-up line?"

"No!"

"Okay. Let's go to my room and do some math. Add some condoms, subtract our clothing, divide your legs and multiply."

"What is on your brain? I don't want to hear another pick-up line!" I whisper-yelled at him. He shrugged and smirked.

"I only think about you, luv," He whispered huskily in a supposedly sexy voice.

"Sorry, that doesn't do anything for me. I will never like you. Never. Understand?" I hissed.

"Oh, you wish. All the girls are throwing themselves at my feet because of my supreme hotness."

"What hotness? I'm sorry, I don't see any hot guys around. And hotness isn't even a word!" I retorted.

"Ah, luv, you wound me," He clutched his heart in mock-hurt.

"Stop calling me luv. Why are you even calling me 'luv', you arse?"

"You called me arse so I call you luv. Duh." He waved at someone carelessly.

"And arse has nothing to do with luv! Stop it!"

"You went all British with your 'bloody' and 'arse', didn't you, luv?"

I slapped him and hissed angrily, "I don't like it and I don't like you, so stop it!"

"Stop what?" He asked innocently.

"Stop calling me 'luv', you ugly imbecile."

"I'm not ugly! Even my mum thinks I'm the epitome of hotness," He preened arrogantly.

I snickered. Him and his stupid ego.

"Of course you're ugly! Can't be your mum's side, she's nice and nice-looking enough. Must be your dad and all his horrible genes that-"

"Stop." He cut me off tersely. Suddenly, his whole attitude and demeanor changed. The easy smile was replaced by a grim line. His lips were pressed together tightly and his smiling eyes turned hard and cold.

"What?" I asked, confused by his sudden change.

"Just stop talking." He said stiffly, then walked off, his eyes steely. I tried walking faster, but he reached the carriage ahead of me. He pushed open the carriage door viciously and slammed it as he entered. Mystified by his actions, I hesitated upon going in. I figured it was probably what I said about his dad, although I had no idea why my comment sparked his anger. Perhaps he and his dad were on bad terms? I had no idea. In my six years of knowing him, I had never seen this James Potter, the cold, brooding one, simmering with silent anger. I suddenly felt afraid of him.

I debated whether or not to go in but I was determined to at least apologize for something I had unknowingly done. When I walked in, he was buried in a book, though I could tell that his attention was not on it.

"I'm sorry," I offered hesitantly, then flinched in anticipation of his reaction. There was nothing. No movement or sound to acknowledge me.

I sat down on an opposite seat and busied myself silently. Potter was silent.

"What happened between you and your dad?" I ventured. The moment the words left my mouth, he sprung up from his seat, eyes burning with cold fire.

"I said don't say it," He spoke in measured tones, yet the controlled anger in every word frightened me more than if he had shouted. I looked down onto my lap, not daring to meet his piercing eyes that shot daggers of ice and held a warning that he was at the edge of his tether. I clamped my mouth shut, too petrified to even make a sound.

I heard a thump as he sat back onto his seat.

The carriage drowned in silence, except for an occasional rustling of my bag and a flipping of my book.

He didn't say a word for the rest of the journey. He didn't turn a page of his book either.

A/N: Nothing recognizably Harry Potter belongs to me