When Lily Potter received her acceptance letter to Hogwarts, she thought that maybe it was the best day of her life.
Albus Severus, thirteen by then, had congratulated her with a grin and a hug. "You'll be in Slytherin," he said, and she didn't point out that maybe he had created a tradition, just then.
She had instead looked to James, who shrugged indifferently. "Doesn't matter," he said, and she half expected him to follow it up with, 'you're a girl.'
But instead he looked at her, and grinned as Al had, and started on the joke about the lion and the friendly snake; a favourite of his. She had pushed him from the room, and ran to owl her father.
When Lily Potter was sorted into Hufflepuff, she thought that maybe it was the best day of her life.
From the Slytherin table, Al had smiled at her. He mouthed something, but she couldn't read lips; instead, she waved back and watched a brown-haired boy swing his legs back and forth up on the three-legged stool. He sat next to her four minutes later, and she spent the evening pretending not to be bothered by his pointy elbows.
When James cornered her after the Feast, she'd thought she was done for.
"You didn't wave to me," he said, frowning. "I was waving and yelling and I think I hit Wood in the face, but you didn't notice." She had apologised, and James said he was proud of her, and he joined a familiar-looking Slytherin by the doors.
She'd wandered around the castle, lost, for an hour. Then the brown-haired boy had shown up, introduced himself as Smith, and led her to the Hufflepuff common room.
Lying under the covers that night, she'd smiled through her tears. She missed her parents, and Al, and James—but she reckoned she had made history, like Al before her.
A Potter in Hufflepuff. What a laugh.
When Lily Potter kissed Smith, she thought that maybe it was the best day of her life.
Even if the kiss was a bit wet, and their teeth kept clashing. She rather liked the feeling of his lips, even if they were chapped, and she didn't mind the lack of fireworks.
She was thirteen, and growing up, and it was all a little overwhelming. She found that she didn't care.
They huddled by the fire in the common room that night, delighting in stealing all the warmth. She was still reliving The Kiss, hours before, and Smith was still slightly pink.
"What's your name?" she asked suddenly. Smith looked at her for the first time since they had sat down.
"Thought you knew," he said, and he blinked.
"Nah," she blushed. "I was trying to talk to Al when you were called, and when I looked up you'd already sat."
Smith bit his lip. "Smithers," he said eventually. "My dad, he tried hard to make mum laugh. She thought he was being cruel an' divorced him."
"Smithers isn't that bad," she reassured him. "I'm a flower, and I grow in a pond, only I can't swim and everyone spells my name wrong."
Smith grinned at her, or maybe at himself. She couldn't quite tell.
"Smithers Smith," he clarified, and she fell silent.
When Lily Potter went to Hogsmeade with Smith, she thought that maybe it was the best day of her life.
It was December, they were fifth years, and they were freezing.
They kept their hands in the pockets for fear of frost-bite. Smith was making awkward little remarks, his breath coming out in puffy little clouds. She saw his nose was pink, and tried to squash the butterflies in her stomach.
In the end, they crammed themselves into a corner booth at the Three Broomsticks and sipped Butterbeer.
"Your hair looks nice today," Smith said.
They looked each other in the eyes, and left to start a snowball fight.
Maybe that's what made it perfect.
When Lily Potter left Hogwarts, she thought that maybe it was the best day of her life.
She sat with Smith on the train back to King's Cross and made small talk. Neither wanted to discuss what would happen after Hogwarts; it was too alien, too strange.
"Think I might be a Healer," Smith muttered, turning red.
"The robes wouldn't suit you," she said, and kissed him.
When Lily Potter got engaged to Smithers Smith, she thought that maybe it was the best day of her life.
Maybe it had been she who had proposed to Smith, but she thinks she knew all along that it would be her job, anyway. Smith was certainly ecstatic enough, if not a bit embarrassed, and she was happy and glowing with excitement.
Her knee hurt from when she had kneeled on it, but subtle attempts at proposing over the past week hadn't worked. (Smith took such questions as 'Hey, d'you fancy being married?' as jokes.)
"Hey, Smith, d'you fancy being married?" she whispered to him later that night. Smith curved an arm around her waist, drew her in close, and laughed.
Within ten minutes Smith's soft snores filled the room, and she thought of Mum and Dad. She thought of Al, who was an Auror, and of James, who disappeared abroad two years ago.
She's lucky to have Smith, but as she fell asleep that night, she dreamt of Potters.
When Lily Potter became Lily Smith, she knew without a doubt that it was the best day of her life.