Looking back, she'd realise her flirtationship with his faults wasn't really that kaleidoscopic; it never changed, merely stemmed itself in secrecy and bloomed in public, although it didn't seem like it in the beginning.
The first time she'd seen him was in the middle of the great hall, hundreds of students swelling around her. His face was perfect; shiny eyes winking out behind round glasses, cheeky grin that was confident yet calm, coal black hair that looked stylishly dishevelled. Even the sorting hat (a mangy old thing by anybodies standards) suited him.
She looked at him, singled out from the crowd, and had the insane urge to tidy him up. Fix his rumpled shirt collar. Straighten his slightly crooked tie. Run her fingers through his hair to make it lie flat. She looked at him in that moment, a perfectly unperfect student. Lily Jane Evans was nothing if not obsessed with order. Later she would realise, as he went to sit at the table of red and gold badged students (bravery the predominant trait, she noted), that it wasn't his singularity amongst the crowd during the sorting that made her look. It was him.
She kept looking, days bleeding into weeks, weeks into years. She'd never allow herself to sit in with the marauders, but she'd sneak into a neglected nearby seat and listen anyway. She soaked up their adventures like she did the magic; fascinated, enthralled, utterly absorbed... and more than a little wary. Lily's life was entwined with magic, sure, but they lived it - breathing magic as other children did oxygen. It was compelling and terrifying, both.
He was her guilty obsession; an addiction she'd never admit she had. She'd continue to live her inane life, complete with private good-girl parties, freshly ironed clothes and permanently done prep. Who needed adventure when you had someone to live vicariously through? A seemingly oblivious mask hid her private fantasy that she was one bad decision away from a good time, but she'd never tell.
As she got older, her Professor's exclusive parties switched from the bane of her existence to her favourite part of it; the Slug Club's salacious gossip flew around the room faster than a golden snitch, and she practically marinated in the tales about the marauders. "Did you hear?" they'd whisper, honeyed tongues belaying whispered secrets in scandalised tones. Lily would shake her head and lean closer; even if she had nothing bad to say it didn't mean she couldn't listen to those who did.
"They stole Filch's detention slips and stuck one on McGonagall's door." She would blink, unimpressed, before they'd drop their decibels to a record breaking low. "It read 'You're a bad, bad girl who needs to be punished.' Filch is furious, but he can't prove anything..."
Sometimes the gossip was specific, revolving around 'The Black Heir' or 'James Potter' - subtle hints at their impressive inheritance. Mostly, it was about girls. "He's found himself another girlfriend. I can't keep track!" They'd laugh hysterically, big smiles adorning their wishful delusions of being the next one to seduce the boy in question. It made her sick, the pregnant silence that followed their tales as they condemned and envied the marauders in the space of a single breath, but she didn't stop listening.
And yet... over time, the whispers reached her ears less and less, stolen rumours begged attention from other's minds, not Lily's. It wasn't that she avoided the gossip, merely the students spreading it.
But as it didn't reach her, it began to include her instead. She never asked for trouble, trouble was for those far more brazen than herself. Trouble was perfectly unperfect boys, boys she still itched to organise.
Therein lay the problem. Her relationship with 'trouble' began when she partnered with him in Potions; and she starting caring more about the organisation than caring about what she was organising him for. The project ended but her interference didn't, and thus neither did the rumours. Lily had miscalculated. Her unblemished record was a hinderance rather than an asset; false claims begged to blot her reputation. Organising James was a mistake... but some mistakes are too fun to only make once, she'd argue, and so trouble became part of her routine. She changed her whole life just to incorporate it.
Or had she? Her kaleidoscope cleared and she saw herself plainly. To be out of trouble's sight was to play in the garden of danger, and Lily wasn't all too fond of jeopardy. It was difficult admitting it, but she'd needed to organise him just as much as he'd needed to be organised. How could it have been any other way?
And if it didn't work out, there would never be any doubt that the pleasure was worth all the pain.
It takes two to get one in trouble, after all.
A/N: Originally titled 'Trouble', I changed it to Kaleidoscope because K is a challenging letter.
Also, Ran, there's always adoption! Just think about it ;)
oh oh oh and I got a tumblr! It's for all the people who have PM'd me asking about 'Jelly'. Do it anonymously now, yay! Link on profile :)