James Potter was planning something… Something sneaky, of course, as that was the only thing he was good at planning. The only question was: what?

I found myself staring at him and his three friends as we sat eating the first day feast. Dumbledore had just finished giving his speech and the sorting hat and done its job.

As soon as food had appeared on the table, I watched as James Potter gathered his friends close to him and start whispering urgently. I glared at them, unabashed by the people seeing me stare.

I concentrated so hard that I hardly noticed my food—and I missed my mouth with a spoonful of mashed potatoes and it ended up all over my face. Spluttering, I reached for a napkin as Zoë burst out laughing. Honestly, I was surprised she didn't wet herself. At least Anna and Mary had enough courtesy to giggle into their napkins.

To add to the moment, I gulped quickly and started choking on my own spit. Zoë thumped me hard on the back, making the situation worse.

"Jeez, Lily, I never knew you were this clumsy," Zoë snorted as she turned back to her own food.

I didn't reply, my attention focused elsewhere. Unlike the mash potato incident, my choking on spit wasn't my fault—well, not entirely.

It was because I had looked over at the Slytherin table.

Severus Snape had been staring at me. Actually, it was more like he was trying to penetrate my mind with those dark eyes of his. When he saw me looking at him, his frown deepened, and he raised his eyebrows, as if daring me to show some form of recognition. That was when I had started choking.

I glanced at Severus again. His eyes hadn't changed at all.

I felt myself blushing and looked away. How dare he even look at me? I hadn't forgotten the stuff he had said about me, and I never would. Though, by the look on his face, I didn't think he would ever forget it either…

I frowned and looked back at the Marauders, as James Potter's gang like to be called.

"What could they possibly be planning?" I asked Mary, who shrugged looking uninterested.

"Why do you care what they are doing, anyway? I thought you hated James Potter," she said. I waved my hand dismissingly at her.

"I don't hate anybody. Well…" I glanced at the Slytherin table again. "Almost anybody… But I don't hate Potter; I just strongly dislike him. There's a difference!" I concluded.

Mary looked unsure and Anna said, "If you choose to strongly dislike him, that's fine by me, but I hate him!" Her eyes narrowed as she thought of her second year. I couldn't even bring myself to think about it—it was that bad.

"And who is this that we so strongly hate?" a voice behind my ear said. I snapped my head around and saw Potter. My limited patience was running on thin ice (not something I suggest doing, by the way).

"Why are you spying on us?" I asked, anger making my face red.

Potter shrugged, trying to look calm and collected. "I could ask you the same thing," was all he said.

"Hey look, no hard feelings. Right, James? Lily has just been having a bad day. She even spilled her mashed potatoes all over herself," Zoë told him to my dismay, while pointing to the gravy stains on my robes that I had tried so hard to hide.

If I could have strangled her and thrown her body to the hungry Slytherins, I would have. But I had a feeling that, while nasty, they hadn't gone as far as cannibalism yet.

So instead I had to settle for jabbing her in the rib. She yelped, and I made a guilty face, pretending I had accidentally jabbed her harder than I meant to, but secretly basking in her pain. Best friend or not, she couldn't go around telling Potter all my secrets—even if they were about mashed potatoes and gravy.

I went back to glaring at Potter. "What do you want?" He held up his hands as if they would stop the effect of my penetrating glare.

"I only came over to ask you about our duties and Head Boy and Girl. Aren't we supposed to help the new prefects usher the first years to the dormitories?" I felt my heart fall as I realized Potter was right. Again. And I was wrong. Again.

This was starting to happen too often.

He must have seen the defeated look on my face because Potter said with a grin, "Evans, I think you should think about giving up your badge to ol' Peggy—" He pointed at a seventh year Gryffindor, who was notorious for her lack of ability to do… anything. Her dull hair was in a wild black mane as she talked to herself while swirling potatoes around with her spoon. "I think she would put more heart into the job," Potter finished.

I stood up with such a speed that the bench tipped and Zoë fell off the and onto the floor. I didn't even look down to apologize. Instead, I yanked Potter's sleeve and said, "Well, come on then. If you're so concerned about our duties let's not waste our time talking."

I marched him out to the entrance of the Great Hall where we were meeting the prefects. Potter kept glancing at me, but I refused to look at him—or talk to him.

It was still only the first day of school and I had to remind myself yet again that it was going to be a long year.

It was now after the feast, and Potter and I were watching over the prefects, making sure they knew what they were doing. Most of the students had already left the hall. I watched as the last of the Ravenclaws walked by Potter and me.

I caught a glimpse of blonde in the back of the group and realized it was the girl who had talked to me on the train earlier. Her eyes met mine, and my heart felt chilled by the stony expression on her face. Her grey eyes glared at me, and then she looked at Potter, who didn't seem to notice her.

I grinned to myself at this, somewhat foolishly too.

After the hall was empty I said to Potter, "Do you know that blonde Ravenclaw girl who just walked by?" He looked confused.

"Who?"

I shook my head. "Never mind."