A/N: I think this will end up being about seven chapters long.


The warmth of the sun embraces her like a long lost friend, and she lets herself get lost in the sensation. With all of the stress that sixth year has been piling up on her, it feels positively blissful to just lay there doing nothing. Nothing matters while she's under the distant star's watchful gaze; schoolwork, family problems, and friendship dramas fade away like darkness exposed to light.

No plans. No thoughts. No worries.

Distant cheers rise up, sounding so very like the roar of the ocean, and she smiles at the sound. Her peaceful reprieve is, really, thanks to a group of fourth year Hufflepuffs who decided to organise a friendly intra-house Quidditch gala day and managed to convince Madam Pomfrey to referee. Although the games themselves are restricted to the badgers, most of the school went down to the pitch after breakfast to watch the festivities, leaving the rest of the grounds virtually uninhabited.

I needed this, she thinks as she languidly lifts her wand to cast another Sun Protection Charm over her freckled skin. It, so much more efficient than sunscreen, is one of her favourite practical spells, saving her from the woes of having such sun-sensitive skin. All work and no break drives Lily stir-crazy.

Humming softly under her breath, she tilts her head back so her face can soak up more of the sun. Just as her eyes start to flutter closed, a booming laugh cuts through the tranquillity, violently tearing her out of her zone.

It's not the laugh itself that does it; it's the fact that she recognises exactly who it's coming from.

Twisting around, she scampers behind the nearest tree. Then, cowering in the cover of its shade, she flicks her wand and mutters a quick charm to pack up her gear. The blanket and her notebook fold themselves up and levitate into the shoulder bag she brought down with her. Peering around the thick trunk of the tree as the spell finishes working its magic, she spots the group – small horde, her brain supplies; like demons – of boys working their way across the grounds. It's tempting to summon the bag immediately, but she decides to wait until she has had a chance to appraise the situation.

"Not here, Prongs," Remus chides Potter, his voice fairly quiet but still audible against the backdrop of silence. "At least wait until we're back at the dorm."

Black grins, and surprise rushes through her at the realisation that he actually uses that smug grin in contexts other than harassing younger students. Apparently, it's just him… grinning. She honestly isn't sure if it's worse or better this way. "But teasing you is so much fun."

"Besides, no one's here. Everyone's watching the games," Potter adds, turning in a slow circle as he sweeps an arm out at the wide open space as if to prove his point.

Remembering some advice from a book she once read, Lily forces herself to move slowly as she starts to shuffle back behind the tree. Unfortunately, amateur camouflage isn't her forte; a chameleon, she is certainly not.

As soon as Potter's brown eyes glance over in her direction, his gaze locks onto her like one of those heat-seeking missiles Tuney's friends gossiped about the last time she saw them. She's sure that he would insist it is more like a boat finally reaching port, but, to her mind, he's fixated and deadly. Her muscles clench up under the force of his gaze. His specific combination of arrogance, charm and pigheadedness make him a pest to be reckoned with, and she is determined not to underestimate his propensity for chaos.

When she first told her parents about him, they insisted that there was surely more to him than met the eye, encouraging her to put herself first but to have an open mind about him. Years and multitudes of examples of his widespread harassment, however, managed to convince them otherwise. Given that everything she has seen seems to point towards the idea that he is vain and uncaring, she can't imagine there being any deeper levels hidden inside that unfortunately popular jerk of a boy, let alone something truly positive. If a dendrochronologist were to cut him down to size to discover his age, they would find only a thin stump with very few growth rings.

He's a small, arrogant child with nothing to him but a powerful name and a sadistic proclivity for harassing people, she thinks venomously as he tells his friends something that draws all of their gazes towards her. Besides, it's a false metaphor, anyway; he's not the tree here. Everyone else are the trees, and he and his little friends are the hobbyists who hack away at other people just to watch them fall apart.

Forced to accept that she has been seen, she quickly summons her bag to her, deciding that her best bet is to make a run for it. When the satchel reaches her, she swiftly grabs it out of thin air and slings it over her shoulder. Fleeing really is her only option now; there's no way that Potter will ever simply leave her be. Fixing her gaze on the castle, she starts to stride across the expansive grounds, wishing – not for the first time – that the walk weren't quite long. She knows she won't be able to get there in time, but it is nevertheless her best chance of evading them.

"There you are, Miss Evans!"

The familiar voice of her favourite professor startles her, and she spins around in shock. The older wizard is still a distance away from her, but he awkwardly jogs to catch up. "Professor?"

"It's wonderful to run into you. How is that essay going? I was worried it might be too hard, but your class needs a challenge. Of course, I daresay you think it's as simple as pie."

"It was a bit confusing at first," she replies, "but I like a good brainteaser."

"Indeed, indeed." Appearing to notice the empty grounds for the first time, the scatterbrained professor suddenly asks, "Why aren't you at the games? I thought you enjoyed Quidditch."

"Oh, I do." Out of the corner of her eye, she notices that Potter and his friends are still approaching them, albeit much slower. Talking to a professor won't buy her a total reprieve, then, but at least it will buy her some time. "I just prefer it in small doses. I watched a rather exciting close game earlier, but I left when the next one started. Did you just come from there?"

"I did. It was most exciting. Such a good idea, don't you think? Giving people who didn't make the team a chance to play… I might have to have a little chat with the students behind it sometime soon. Unfortunately, however, I have a stack of first and third year papers to mark, so I must be off if I'm to have any chance of finishing them by Monday." He gives her a frown that is comically emphasised in a way that she knows is meant to draw her in. "A few of them have potential, you know, but most of them are still determined to stick to the textbook. What is Potions if not experimentation? But I'm afraid some of them will never see that."

An idea crosses her mind, and she flashes him a charismatic smile. "Would you like some help?"

His eyes light up at the idea, but he politely asks, "Wouldn't you rather do something else? Your own homework, perhaps, or just relaxing?"

"Not at all," she replies with complete honesty.