Lily Evans

I'm not an irrational person, I really am not. It's the rest of the world that is so damn bonkers. Really, I mean, getting on a wooden stick and flying hundreds of feet in the air just to toss a fucking ball around does not seem normal. I, however, like any rational person, know that people shouldn't want to fly that high. I, like normal people, get nauseous and feel sick and start to hyperventilate if I even go a few feet from the ground, because I know that humans were built to walk, not fly.

It was the end of the school year, end-of-school exams were finished up, and summer break would start in just a few days. Throwing my belongings aimlessly into my trunk, I slowly found the floor to the pig-sty the sixth year Gryffindor girls called a dormitory.

"Marly, this is yours, right?" I ask, picking up a D-cup bra, much too large for her chest. All the girls in the room giggle as she snatches it out from my fingertips and turns a beet red color.

"It was a dare," she grumbles, before shoving it to the bottom of her trunk. After a good chortle, we go back to cleaning up. Objects are being tossed left and right, and after only an hour of cleaning, the dormitory is somewhat clean. Plopping down on Alice's four post bed, I lie, spread eagle, pretending to be winded.

"Whew, that was a lot of work," I titter. "Alice, darling, would you mind bringing me a glass of lemonade from the kitchens?" She grins, before shoving me off her bed and onto the floor with a thud. Frowning at her, I jump to the bed and started tickling her frantically. Somewhere throughout our tickle fight, Mary and Marly (our two roommates) leave the room and are replaced by an unwelcome visitor.

"Girls, please," says the suave, familiar-sounding speaker, "If you're going to do that, at least take your clothes off. It would be a much more interesting show." I whip around, as does Alice, and my eyes snap to the tall boy standing at the door of the dorm.

A raven-haired boy stands there, his hair growing past his ears and almost reaching his chin. He's wearing casual robes and a pair of Muggle jeans.

"Black," I spit. "How did you get up here." He gestures to a broom, which is leaning up against the door frame. When I glance over to Alice, a slight tinge of red adorns her cheeks and she is glancing down at her lap.

"Wow, I've never seen the girls dorm look so clean…" he ponders, looking around and surprised. When has he been up here? Has he been snooping?

"No, I have not been snooping!" he exclaims. Shit, did I say that out load? Oh, whatever, I was going to ask anyway.

"I'm going to get my stuff from the bathroom," I say, ignoring Sirius's obviously untrue denials of his inquisitive problem. Slinking over to the bathroom like the sloth I am, I start to grab my shampoo and conditioner from the shower and place them in my toiletries bag. After a few minutes of grabbing my belongings, I walk back out into the dormitory.

When I get there, I become quite confused. Sirius is sitting quite close to Alice, with a hand on her face and lips only inches apart. Her expression seems scared and confused. God, he's trying to make a move isn't he.

"Sirius Black!" I cry, and they jump apart. "Stop trying to make a move on my best friend. Sheesh, will you flirt with anything that has legs?" Alice chuckles nervously and Sirius jumps up off the bed in a very hyper, Sirius-like manner.

"Only if they have legs like yours, my Lily-flower," he flirts, giving me a huge wink. Rolling my eyes, I shove him out the door, and then throw his broom out after him. After slamming the door, I walk over to Alice and chuckle.

"See, this all happened because of Quidditch. He used his broomstick to get up here, and then he practically molests you. They should just outlaw the sport entirely. And, I mean, doesn't he know you have a boyfriend?" Alice looks at me, cheeks still slightly flushed.

"Lily," she says, her voice slightly timid, as always. "You know you have to be able to fly to be an Auror." I almost break out laughing at this statement. See, Alice is always trying to get me to fly, one way or another. This is just one of her stupid tricks.

"Oh, okay Alice," I say mockingly and sticking my tongue out at her.

"Go check the sheet requirement for an Auror on that pamphlet you got at career day," she says, nodding over to my trunk. I roll my eyes for what feels like the millionth time that day, walk over to my trunk, and start rummaging through it. My fringe starts falling into my face, and I pull my red mane back with the elastic on my wrist. Finally, my fingers find the smooth surface and I pull the pamphlet out, dusting off the pink substance that somehow found its way onto the paper.

"Hmm, let's see, must pass such-in-such OWLs, must be able to Apparate, must be able to fly—what?" My eyes start watering and my head starts spinning just thinking about having to fly.

"Alice, I can't be an Auror! Alice, I can't be an Auror if I can't fly!" I feel queasy now, so I shove my open trunk off my bed and flop down. The contents spill everywhere, but I don't care.

"Stop being too melodramatic," she laughs and walks over to my bed. She sits next to my head, and combs my hair back in that motherly-like manner. "Just take flying lessons."

"Even if I wanted to, where could I get flying lessons?" I yelp, feeling as though my world is going to crash down. Now, I know what you're thinking, I'm acting crazy. But you don't understand, this is my life goal! Plus, as Alice said, I carry the trait of being very overemotional.

I hear a loud sigh from where Alice is sitting. I'm assuming it's her, unless another stranger has kidnapped her from out of the room and is imitating her. Though that is very unlikely, I don't feel like opening my eyes, preferring the dark world of my eyelids.

"Lily, have you been listening to a word I've said this past month? I'm going to be coaching a Quidditch camp!" I can hear how annoyed she is, and now I vaguely remember hearing her talk about some Quidditch camp. She had been droning on and on about it at dinner to Mary and me, talking about the logistics of all the moves and such, and I had been staring at Potter—no, I had been staring at pie. I remember very specifically staring at pie that night, and remembering how it had been ignoring me the entire year. It didn't even say hi to me in the hallways, or flirted with me, or anything! That goddamn pie was ruining my life.

For a few moments, I zoned out (thinking of pie, of course). "Lily!" cried Alice, shattering the daydream I had just been in, where a certain pie was slowly leaning toward me, crust puckered… damn it, what was with all these daydreams I had been having lately?

"Oh right, hello Alice, lovely child," I say, snapping fully out of my dream now. She gives me one of those 'I know you're my best friend but you're an absolute nutter' looks. She gives these to me quite often, if you can imagine.

"So…" she looks at me questionably.

"Wait, what were we talking about again?" I ask with a guilty shrug. I get a look so horrifying I almost fall off the bed.

"Do you want me to get you into the camp?" she bellows angrily. I give her an apologetic look and nod.

"How much is it?" I ask nervously. Alice comes from a wealthy family, and I know she used to spend her entire summers there. It couldn't be that expensive, could it?"

"Two Galleons an hour," she says, calm again. My mouth falls open though, as I hear the price. Who has that kind of money to waste? At my expression, she quickly speaks up again. "I get free lessons though, because I'm coaching there. You can have them."

I shake my head and say, "No, you'll probably want to save those. I can find another—"

She cuts me off and says, "Lily, take the lessons, I won't be using them." I nod my head awkwardly, knowing she will just keep insisting I take them. My family isn't poor, not at all, but we aren't wealthy either. We're smack in the middle, but that doesn't mean I have Galleons to waste. It was uncomfortable for me, whenever Alice offered to buy me sweets or gadgets down in Hogsmeade, claiming "it's nothing." Seeing her deal out the Galleons, though, definitely made it feel like something.

"Thanks Alice," I mumble, my face turning that awful shade of red it did when I was embarrassed.

"No problem," she replies sweetly, her temper having now disappeared. "I'm going to go send an owl to the head, and tell them you're coming. It starts the first week of summer, at ten o'clock. It's a big commitment Lily, are you ready for it?" she asks, a smirk coming across her face. She knows I'm always up for a challenge.

"Always," I say, determined to cure this fear of heights I have had since I was a child. She nods, and starts off for the Owlery, but pauses in the doorframe.

"Hey Lily?" she says, turning around to face me.

"Yeah?"

"You're going to make a great Auror."

"What do you mean I'm not in your class?" I gasp on the first day of camp at Mr. Chandler's Quidditch Academy. The sun is hot against my back, though I'm only wearing a tank top with a sports bra underneath. I'm also clad in a long pair of 'Quidditch shorts' as Alice calls them, though they just look like Muggle basketball shorts to me. Apparently, no one wears Quidditch robes like normal, because of the sweltering sun beating down on us.

"Well, I'm teaching intermediate, and you're taking beginners'," she scoffs as if it was obvious. I have an urge to stamp my foot and tell her to switch me, but realize how weird people would look at me if they saw my childish acts. Choosing a few choice words, I mutter under my breath.

"What was that, Lily?" asks Alice, a scolding look playing across her face. I shake my head and clamp my lips, not feeling like getting a talking-to in front of all these people. Shit, how did Alice become my mother?

"Nothing," I murmur, looking down at my shoes.

"Here you are," says Alice nervously, and I snap my head up to look at her.

"What's wrong?" I ask, seeing a knowing look in her big blue eyes. She runs a hand through her shoulder length, short blonde hair and bites her lip, before whistling a tune to herself randomly.

What the hell is that about.

I turn around, still slightly pissed about the fact that Alice has gone all weird, when I see it...er, him rather.

The pie is standing in front of me, his eyes connecting with mine, both of us frozen on our feet. A kid is dangling in the air, one he was obviously helping, and I can vaguely hear his cries of help from the broomstick. But I don't move, because all I can think about is him being there; of spending my entire summer with some God-awful piece of pie. He is mince pie, when I am craving apple.

His lips are moving, the words slowly moving out like molasses, but my ears are still ringing. The pie, otherwise known as James Potter, will be teaching me how to fly. For years I perfected the art of making him think I was flawless, that I was perfect. And now, with one stupid summer camp, he would discover my greatest fear: my fear of heights.