Lily found herself alone in the common room, much to her relief. Right now, she could not be Head Girl Lily Evans; she could not handle nagging the first years for their constant chatter, lecturing the Marauders for their nonstop pranks, or attempting to guide her prefects through patrol schedules and their O.W.L. exams. No, it was best she be alone.

A hot tear slid down the redhead's face, but she made no attempt to brush it away. Instead, she slumped over in the nearest chair and just let it flow, allowing it to be joined by others.

She was so confused. She hated James Potter; she always had, and according to her plans, she always would. And why shouldn't she? He was arrogant and self-serving, and he was far too concerned with keeping his bloody hair a mess. He was awful to the people around him, and his goal in life seemed to be drawing attention to himself.

No, that was unfair. She didn't hate James. Detest, absolutely, but the hatred had died out somewhere in past years. And though he was arrogant, and he did ruffle his hair too often, the rest was a stretch. He looked out for Peter, she reminded herself, and this all started because of his concern for Remus today, remember? The only person he was truly awful towards was Severus, and as for drawing attention, he didn't want it from everyone. Only her.

No, she would be lying if she said she hated him, and Lily had been lying to herself often enough these days. He's not attractive, she'd told herself every time he'd flashed her that bright, toothy grin, yet every time her stomach flip-flopped. And throughout the last few months, the stereotypical teenage girl inside her had squealed with delight each time the infamous James Potter asked her out. But she didn't like him; there was no school-girl crush. That would be impractical.

Why, then, had her heart been abandoning practicality? The school-girl crush, the one that wasn't there, had certainly been flaring up a lot lately, but worse, it was developing. She'd finally seen James. Not Potter, the arrogant bigot, but James, the compassionate, loyal, never-say-die Head Boy.

But if he were truly compassionate, would he have used her? Would he have made her his trophy, the last piece of his collection? And had she confused loyalty and persistence with a blind, unending infatuation? Probably. For all she knew, this "James" persona was just a mask, a tool in drawing her to him. Maybe the arrogant bigot, Potter, really was all that existed.

Why, then, did this still hurt? Why did she have tears running down her cheeks? If he really was only the jerk she'd always expected, why did part of her still long to find him, to feel his arms around her, and to say yes to every date invitation he'd ever issued? Because part of her still believed that the underlying James existed, and she had very much fallen for that man, whether her mind okayed it or not.

But that wasn't an option, she argued again. James didn't exist. There was Potter and only Potter; she needed to get this other persona out of her head. It was just a matter of how.

It was days like this that she found herself missing Petunia most. When surrounded by magic and friends, it was easy to think that she didn't need her sister's support, that being labeled a "freak" didn't matter. But on the nights when she was confused and at a loss, Lily couldn't help but think back to the nights spent in their shared bedroom, gossiping about the boys they would someday find and exchanging secrets. On these nights, she wanted nothing more than to go back to her Muggle days in which her sister was right there on every issue.

'You could always write her,' she reminded herself again. 'You haven't written her a letter in a long time... Maybe things have changed.' She knew that was less than likely, much closer to the point of foolishness, but Lily needed her big sister. If it didn't work, she could always talk to Alice... No, of course she couldn't. She didn't want to admit to herself that she might like James, let alone that anything he'd done had hurt her. She was supposed to hate him, and she needed to be stronger than that. She was stronger than that. There was no way she could ever admit to anyone who had watched their ongoing battle that he was getting under her skin. Alice was not an option. Besides when she was a kid, she'd always pictured going to Petunia for her first boy advice. She had to try.

Accio parchment and quill.

Without any extra thought, Lily began to write.

Dear Tunie,

I know it's been... A long time, to say the least. And I know that you probably don't want to talk to me. But it has nothing to do with my kind or my schooling... It's something we talked about almost all the time when we were little.

Tunie, I'm so confused. James- he's the boy I told Mom and Dad about- asked me out again; he has every year since we were eleven. But for once, I almost said yes. Then he messed it up again. I don't want to be his trophy, but I don't know what to do.

I'm sorry this couldn't come by normal post. We don't have a Post Office out here... It's a bit remote. But you can attach your response to the owl. Her name's Apolla, and she's a sweetheart.

I love and miss you, Petunia,

Lily

With that, she rolled and sealed the parchment and took off towards the Owlery feeling a bit better. Petunia would know what to do. Lily had always been able to ask her advice, and so far, she'd never had to regret it. Hopefully this time would be no different.