Chapter 2 Underneath this Smile

Underneath this smile

My world is slowly caving in

All the while I'm hanging on

Cuz that is all I know

Underneath this Smile by Hilary Duff

The next morning she woke up early again, and finished packing her trunk. Then she raided the kitchen, finishing two boxes of cereal by herself and then threw it all back up. It was her daily summer morning routine. Wake up, lay in bed for about an hour, get up and eat, throw up, and go back to bed for a few hours. It was habitual now; she'd been performing this same routine for about four years now, ever since her sister had moved out.

She took a hot shower, scrubbing every inch of her body until her skin was pink and her scalp was sore. Then she stood in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom naked and examined her body. It had been while since she had actually looked in the mirror at all. Normally she hated it, because she was forced to confront what she thought of as her disgusting, fat body. She pinched the parts of her body she viewed as fat: her stomach, her upper arms, her thighs and butt and her calves. It was all gross.

No wonder nobody loves me, she thought miserably. She was disgusting, she decided. A walking bag of fat, plain and simple. Her eyes settled on the patches of colour over her body. Black, blue and purple where the fresh bruises were, and yellow and green where the old ones were trying to heal. There was a deep gash down her right shoulder where her father had shoved her into a kitchen chair that had broken on the impact. That had been last night. She fingered the cut carefully, thinking that it would probably leave a scar if she didn't get it fixed. She probably needed stitches, or at least a good healing potion. Unfortunately, she didn't have access to either one, so she would just have to deal with it.

Finally she got dressed (again, jeans and a shirt chosen at random), dragged her trunk downstairs, and wrote a note for her father, who still wasn't awake yet.

Daddy,

Gone to school. Will write later. Take care.

Lily

She taped the note to the fridge (he would go there eventually for a beer) and left the house. She hailed a taxi to take her to King's Cross, where she would catch the Hogwarts Express. At least she was safe from Dean at Hogwarts. He couldn't beat her there. People would ask about the bruises—mostly the professors—and she would shrug them off, passing it off as just summer injuries playing soccer, and eventually they would forget. Of course she didn't play soccer, but the teachers didn't know that.

At long last the taxi reached the train station and she paid the driver, hauled her trunk out of the boot of the taxi, and wandered over to get a trolley. All around platforms nine and ten people she recognized from school milled about with their families, saying goodbye and making last minute preparations before the train departed.

Lily pushed her way through the crowd with little polite "Excuse me" phrases periodically. She walked through the barrier separating platforms nine and ten, using the crowd of people as cover from the Muggles. She was transported to platform nine and three quarters, standing in front of the scarlet steam engine that would take her away to her sanctuary.

Near one of the doors to the train, a tall boy with black hair stood waving at her. Her heartbeat sped up, and she rushed toward him, working her way through the throng of students. He held out his arms for her, and she sank into them gratefully, holding back tears.

"Hi Brady," she said when she finally managed to rein in her tears. Brady Johnson was a seventh year Slytherin who also happened to be Lily's boyfriend.

"I saved you a seat," he told her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "We have a whole compartment to ourselves."

She set her head against his chest and sighed happily. She had barely seen him all summer, and had missed him terribly. He helped lift her trunk onto the train, and then took her to where he'd saved their seats. Brady sat down in one of the seats, and Lily lay down on the rest of the seats in that row so that her head was in his lap, and he told her about his summer. As she lay there she listened to his deep voice, feeling it vibrate through his chest and just appreciated being with him. She still had no idea how she had managed to snag such an excellent boyfriend with her looks and social status, but they had being dating for a little over a year now.

"How was your summer then?" Brady asked after a while, playing with a stand of her hair.

"Oh you know, the usual," she replied vaguely.

"You cut your hair," he observed. "It's quite short now."

"Yes. I decided a change might be good," she replied, looking up and smiling at him.

He frowned and touched her eye. "Where'd you get this?"

She fingered her black eye tenderly, wincing slightly. "Soccer practice last week. Caught a ball to the face. I wasn't really paying close enough attention I guess." She laughed a little.

"Why do you play that Muggle sport if you always get hurt?" he asked. It was an on-going discussion they had quite often.

"Because it keeps me in shape over the summer," she responded, her smile disappearing. "I need some good exercise sometimes you know. I don't want to get fat."

He rolled his eyes but let it go for the time being, for which she was grateful. "I missed you a lot over the summer," he told her in a husky whisper as he leaned down to kiss her.

"I missed you too, Brady," she said, kissing him back. "More than you can possibly know."

"What do you say to doing a little catching up then?" he asked, pulling her into a sitting position on his lap.

She laughed. "Oh Brady."

"What? I'm being serious." He kissed the side of her neck, holding her hips. He brought his lips up to meet hers, and she returned his kiss eagerly. He pulled her tightly against him, crushing her breasts against his chest somewhat painfully.

"Right here on the train?" she asked hesitantly. The last time she had seen Brady was at the beginning of the summer. He had invited her over to his place, and they had ended up having sex. She hadn't been very sure about that, since it had been her first time, but she had done it for fear of him leaving her. She knew that she would probably continue to do it with him if he asked, for that same reason. She couldn't stand the thought of being without him.

"Why not? It's better that way," he told her seductively. "The rocking motion of the train is quite stimulating you know."

"What if someone walks in on us?"

"They won't. We'll lock the doors." He stuck out his lower lip. "Please Lily. I've missed you so much. I just want to be with you."

She finally gave in. "Okay, alright, but let's lock the doors right now."

Brady took out his wand and locked the compartment door and drew the shades on the window behind him. He was seventeen, which meant that he could now do magic outside of school, unlike her. He turned back to her, smiling, and slipped his hands up her shirt to undo the clasp of her bra. It came undone, and he tossed it aside.

Around an hour later, Brady left the compartment in search of the food trolley. Sex always made him hungry, he told her. She was putting her bra back on when there was a knock on the compartment door.

"Who is it?" she called, slipping into her Hogwarts skirt.

"James Potter," a voice called back from the other side. "I'm coming in."

Damn! "Umm, wait just a minute—"

But the door was already sliding open—Brady hadn't locked it again after he left. James Potter strode through the door to find Lily Evans in her black silk bra and Hogwarts skirt. He stopped dead in the doorway, and for a moment they both stood, frozen to the spot.

"Could you close the door or something?" Lily asked finally, blushing brightly and trying desperately to hide it. "I don't want the entire school to see me here."

"Oh," he said, and stepped inside the compartment, closing the door behind him. "Sorry to barge in like this, but we have a meeting in five minutes up at the front of the train."

She glared at him, then whirled around to locate her shirt. "You come in my compartment while I'm dressing to tell me that? Why couldn't you tell me from outside the door?"

He shrugged, and when she turned back around to face him he had an odd look on his face.

"What?" she demanded, feeling extremely self-conscious.

"Where'd you get all those bruises from?" he whispered, looking down her body to the discoloured splotches that marred her skin.

Automatically her heart sped up. "Soccer," she managed to say calmly. "It's a Muggle sport."

"I know what soccer is, Evans," he said. "I took Muggle-studies."

"Well then you know that it can be a very rough sport," she shot back. "You can get pretty beat up, lots of bruises and stuff. But it's fun, so I think it's worth it."

"That might explain the bruises," he answered, "but what about that gash on your shoulder? I doubt a soccer ball caused that."

"How is it any of your business?" she snapped irritably, pushing her arms into the sleeves of her blouse roughly. She busied herself with the buttons so she wouldn't have to look at him.

"It was just a question," he said, but Lily could tell that he was suspicious of something. Stupid Potter; he was too smart.

"Somehow I doubt that," she muttered, rolling her eyes.

At that moment Brady opened the compartment doors, his arms loaded down with sweets from the food trolley. He stopped at the sight of James Potter standing in the middle of the compartment.

"Hi sweetie," Lily said, fixing the collar on her blouse before tying her scarlet and gold tie around her neck. She walked over and kissed Brady's cheek. "There's a Head meeting shortly. I have to go."

"Oh," was all he said. He bent down and kissed her on the mouth. "See you then."

"Bye," she said, smiling sweetly at him. She turned back to James. "Come on then. We'd best be off or we'll be late."

They stepped out into the isle and she slid the compartment door shut behind them. They walked toward the front of the train in silence for a few feet, before James decided to break it. "He's using you, you know," he said casually.

"Oh? And what the hell do you know about Brady?" she snapped.

"I know that he's a Slytherin," he replied. "And Slytherins hate Gryffindors and vice versa. Don't you find it the least bit suspicious that he seems to pay such close attention to you?"

"What, I'm not good enough to be with him or something? Is that what you're trying to say? That he's too good for me, so he must be using me?"

"No! You're too good for him. He's a Slytherin, Evans!" James said heatedly.

"So? Who cares? Besides you, that is," she snapped. "Brady and I are very happy together. You're just jealous."

"Yeah sure," he mumbled sarcastically. "And I'm also the Queen of England."

"You're fairly ugly for a queen," she responded, and he glared.

"Here I am just trying to be a good friend and protect you from having your heart broken and all you can do is poke fun at me," he said crossly, clearly loosing his patience.

"A good friend? Please. Potter, you and I are nothing even close to resembling friends," she replied. "You aren't trying to protect me. And if you are, don't. I don't need protection, especially from you. Brady loves me, and I love him. End of story."

"Whatever, Evans, whatever. But when he drops you don't come running to me crying your eyes out, because all I will say is 'I told you so.'"

"Why on earth would I ever come to you for anything anyway?"

"Forget it! You're impossible to talk to! It's no wonder you haven't got any friends!"

It was like a cruel slap in the face, and stung almost as much. She remained silent, hurt by his comment. One part of her knew that he really did mean well, even if he was way off base, but another part was furious with him for even suggesting that Brady was like that. What the hell did he know, anyway?

This was going to be a long year with James Potter being Head Boy, she already knew.