'You may think you know someone, but you never really do. You may think you can trust someone, but you really can't. You may think you're in love with someone, but it's just a silly crush. I'm famous and that is the only reason James Potter loves me.'

Unpredictable

Chapter 1: Complications and Durations

It's something unpredictable

But in the end is right

I hope you had the time of your life

~Good Riddance (Time of your Life)

By Green Day

It is one thing to be sixteen and still dealing with hormones, but to be a famous hormonal sixteen-year-old witch is something entirely different, something I hope no one else ever has to go through. It's not like I even should be famous; I didn't make any special discoveries, or create a brilliant invention that would change mankind as we know it. I wasn't even an actress or a singer.

No, I was only me, Lily Evans, a part of the first family ever to be attacked by the dark wizard, Lord Voldemort. I didn't see what the big deal was. I felt it was only an excuse for people to go around and pity some poor orphan, so they could distract themselves from realizing that the whole wizarding world was in a tribulation. Which was entirely correct, unfortunately; maybe if people had paid enough attention, something could have been done before thousands of more lives would be killed in the years to come.

It started in the summer just before I entered my third year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the most prestigious magical school in Britain. Petunia, my elder sister, though I dearly hate to admit it, had been bribed into taking me out for ice cream so our parents could get some work done. You would think that when we returned our house would be in flames and our parents would be dead on the floor, like in all the other stories of such murders; but no, clichés never happen in reality. There were visitors in our house, all dressed in black robes, and Mum and Daddy were talking to them in the living room.

Daddy excused himself when he saw us, saying he had to put us to bed, and it was then that I knew something was wrong. We were never forced to go to bed at 7:30 at night. Daddy grabbed my arm and pulled me upstairs, Petunia in tow; he led us into the attic, and made us get in a dusty closet, which I wouldn't be surprised if it had been full of spiders and other creepy insects.

'Daddy, what are you doing?' Petunia hissed.

'Now I want you two to stay in here,' he whispered hurriedly, and tears formed in my eyes; my nerves were confirmed, there was something wrong. 'Do not move until I come to retrieve you, all right? If--if I'm not back within an hour, sneak into Petunia's room and down the fire ladder. Understand?'

Petunia and I nodded.

'I love you girls. So does your mother. We always will.' He closed the door, the last I saw of the man who had raised and cared for me.

Petunia and I both had a silent comprehension of what was going on by then. We waited five minutes, ten, twenty… One whole hour. I was about to leave when I felt Petunia grab me back, and that's when I heard it.

The visitors were below us, in our parents' bedroom. I could tell by the sounds of their voices and the slamming and crashing noises, as if things were being hurled out of the way and doors thrown open, that they were looking for us.

They never did find us, or even find the attic door, but it was seven hours after the cloaked men left that my sister and I had finally enough nerve to leave.

Luckily, I had no visible wounds from the incident. True, most people recognized me, because my face was in the papers for months afterwards. And those who didn't soon realized who I was by my appearance, which nearly everyone knew me for; because, let's face it, there aren't a whole parade of witches marching about with red hair and green eyes. If they didn't know me by appearance, they certainly knew me by name.

It's strange how things like that can change your life in ways you would never expect. I was depressed for my whole Fourth Year, but I think I would rather have been in a depression than what happened to me in Fifth Year. It soon came to my attention that people were suddenly noticing me. Not that I hadn't been noticed before, I was actually pretty popular, but now people whom I had never talked to in my entire life were coming up to me and acting as though they were the greatest friends.

It was obvious. They were trying to get me to like them, just because I was famous. I stopped trusting, I stopped socializing; I stopped doing everything that had anything to do with confronting and talking to people. I pushed everyone away, and the only person that I still kept close was my best friend, Elizabeth Franks, who had stayed by my side before the murder, during my despair, and every day afterwards.

From then on, my life revolved around three simple rules:

You may think you know someone, but you never really do.

You may think you can trust someone, but you really can't.

You may think you're in love with someone, but it's just a silly crush.

I added the last one because there was one certain boy who could not get the hint that I was not a people person. A certain boy with messy black hair, framed blue eyes, and Captain and Chaser of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. A certain James Potter, who had claimed he loved me so many times, that I expected no other words to come out of his mouth while he was around me.

Most said that we were perfect for each other, that he was my "soul mate". Or a pathetic stalker, as I liked to call it. But you see, I knew the truth--I knew that he did not love me, Lily Evans, for whom I really was. No. That wasn't it at all.

It was very hard to think so, because of the stupid things he did to prove his devotion. He asked me out to Hogsmeade several times, but I refused. He sent me small gifts and candy, but I laughed. He then publicized his feelings by screaming it at Quidditch games, writing it on the walls with magic in the Great Hall, standing suddenly in the middle of class and announcing it to everyone; I found it cute, but I knew it wasn't the truth. Which is why I woke up every morning and convinced myself by saying:

'I'm famous, and that is the only reason James Potter loves me.'

Nearly everyone thought I was absolutely mad to decline James Potter's offers; according to them, James Potter was James Potter, and his feelings should always be taken into consideration. But I certainly couldn't give a damn.

Another strange thing about me is that I completely hide my feelings from everyone, even Elizabeth. I'm quite good at it, mind you. I use a sarcastic and spunky façade to hide all of my emotions, and all my classmates (excluding Elizabeth, although I appreciate her pretending so) think I've returned to my normal gingery self.

Oh, if only they could know the truth…

It was almost as hard to keep my feelings from Elizabeth as it was to tell myself James Potter didn't love me. She knew me better than anyone else, especially since I stayed with her during summer holidays, but I proved my courageousness once again by blocking her out with a good quipping argument.

'You look like a candy cane,' she said one morning, after I was feeling especially needy to break down and tell her everything.

'Good, that's the look I was going for.'

'Really?'

'No.'

'I didn't think so.'

'I appreciate your help, Liz.'

'Anytime.'

'I was being sarcastic.'

'I know.'

'Sure you did.'

'So what do I look like?'

'Um…'

'Something blue and yellow?'

'Exactly the words I was looking for.'

'I knew it. I can read minds, you know.'

'Oh, so you're a Seer now?'

'No. Just very smart.'

''Could've fooled me.'

'Shut up, Santa Clause.'

'Now you're saying I'm a fat man with white hair and a beard, that goes around in a bright red suit?'

'No. Just saying only someone with hair like yours could pull off a look that… Christmas-y.'

'Thanks for your intellectual input.'

'What are friends for? Now, if you don't mind, I'm going down to the Great Hall before breakfast is over. You coming?'

'I'll be down in a moment.'

I turned to my mirror, scowling at my reflection, after she left. I did look awfully like a holiday treat. I was wearing my red and white striped night clothes, and with my strawberry blonde hair, I couldn't help but agree with Liz. I looked horrible, despite Liz's comment the night before, claiming I looked "magically delicious"--and that was before the invention of Lucky Charms, mind your Ps and Qs. She, and almost everyone else I knew, said I was pretty, or more commonly expressed as gorgeous, but I personally thought I was about as good-looking as Petunia's slim face, which had an uncanny resemblance to an ugly horse.

I stripped off my pyjamas and pulled out jeans and a cute sweater--despite what you may think, I did have some fashion sense--and quickly tugged them on. I slipped on my sneakers and ran down the steps, only having ten more minutes until breakfast was over. I was about to run out of the Common Room when I felt myself fully collide with something solid and hard.

'OW!' I cried, falling to the ground and landing on my arse.

'Oh, sorry!'

I looked up and saw James Potter himself, smiling down at me (I didn't even want to think about why), his hand outstretched to help me up.

''S okay,' I grumbled, grabbing his hand and standing. 'Just watch where you're going next time, alright?'

'Yeah,' he said, running his hand through his hair nervously. 'I was just trying to hurry…breakfast is almost over.'

'Me too,' I said. James smiled wider, but I kept my face indifferent; I could feel myself becoming sardonic, as if on instinct. 'Well you're going to miss it if you keep standing there.'

'Not that I'll be able to eat, I'm too nervous about the Quidditch game and all, but why don't we walk together?'

'Why should we?'

'Dunno… it was just a suggestion.'

'And that was just an answer.'

'You're awfully bantering, aren't you?

'You think so?'

'Yes.'

'Good for you.'

'Thanks…I guess.'

'Sure. Now, if you don't mind me, I'm going down to breakfast.'

Before waiting for an answer, I ran out of the portrait hole and kept running until I reached the doors of the Great Hall, with only five more minutes 'till the end of breakfast.

'Hey! Where've you been?' Liz asked me as I took a seat at Gryffindor Table. While I was fortunate and didn't look like a candy cane anymore, she was still clothed in a puffy and frilled blue dress; and with her blonde hair, she still looked like something blue and yellow.

I inwardly made a face at her own clothes, pitying the girl. It wasn't her fault her family was of a very high-class, and she was forced to wear atrocious things…

I shrugged. 'Got held up by Potter.'

I noticed her interest perked at once. 'What did he say?'

I shrugged again, helping myself to the last blueberry muffin. 'Nothing much.'

'Oh.'

I may be thick-headed sometimes, but I'm not stupid, and I definitely saw the sidelong glance she threw my way.

'So,' Liz said, changing the subject, 'are you coming to watch the Quidditch game?'

'Hm…' I pretended to think for a moment. 'Well, since I usually go to all the games…' I said pointedly. I hated Quidditch. I never went to any games, I never cheered on any teams, and I never wanted to hear about them afterwards.

'C'mon, Lily!'

Liz wasn't stupid either.

'You never go!'

'Exactly my point,' I said. At that moment James Potter joined the table, a few feet down with the Marauders, and I stared determinedly at my plate as I felt his eyes flick towards me.

The Marauders included him, James, and his three best friends: Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. They were so many things of Hogwarts that sometimes I wish I could bash them over the head senseless, so just for a moment they would forget who they were, and could be average Sixth Year Gryffindors--for they were the pranksters, the most-wanted, the players, the hottest guys, the most popular, the smartest, the most talented, the funniest, the cleverest, they were nearly everything. And I hated them all, just because my internal disguise made me do so.

The bell rang and everyone filed out, heading towards the Quidditch Pitch for the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff game. I told Liz that I would be spending time in the library while she was gone, and she could find me in there when the game was over.

I grabbed my bag from the dorm to bring with me, so I could finish a Potions essay that was due on Monday. I was heading down the stairs when I heard James's voice in the Common Room. Must he always be around when I was trying to leave Gryffindor Tower?

Although I still hated James Potter with a passion, I liked him best when he was with his friends; he acted the exact opposite as when he was with me. He didn't get that funny look in his eyes--which he called love, and I called stupidity--but they held a childlike curiosity and a sense of mischief, which he was well known for within the walls of Hogwarts. He joked and he laughed, and he didn't give the slightest care as to what people thought of him; I hated when he tried to act perfect when he spoke to me, as if trying to impress me, which he could never do. He loved to play pranks and fight with Severus Snape, a 6th Year Slytherin whom none of us liked, and Snape's Slytherin friends. Yes, that was the James I somewhat liked, not the lovesick puppy that turned into puddles when he saw me.

Taking my chances, I walked down the stairs and towards the portrait hole, pretending like I didn't see them. Unfortunately for me, not one solitary member of the Marauders was that stupid. In fact, that were actually quite smart.

'Hey Lily!'

I stopped in my tracks. I couldn't just ignore them when they had obviously seen me, that was entirely too rude, even for me. At least it had been Sirius Black who called out, and not James.

I slowly turned around to see that they had been headed towards the portrait hole, too.

'Hi,' I said. 'Shouldn't you be down on the Quidditch Pitch? The game's starting soon.'

'We were just coming up here to fetch James's Quidditch robes, he forgot them,' said Remus Lupin; I liked him the best. He was so subtle that I couldn't help it. And because he was relatively the first one to speak to me, I grew irritated at once that my derisive cover-up didn't appear at once. 'Besides, we could ask you the same thing.'

'I don't like watching Quidditch games,' I said, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice. 'Besides, I have to finish an essay.'

'Trying to become Head Girl?' said Peter Pettigrew. I disliked him the most--just something about him ticked me off. 'Only someone who worked that hard would want to.'

'No,' I snapped. 'I'm a Prefect, and what good example would I be showing if I didn't get good grades?'

'James doesn't work hard,' said Sirius. 'He's a Prefect, too.'

I shuddered, remembering the nightmares I had had for weeks after finding out that James would be a Prefect alongside me. Still, my temper was gradually rising. 'Well he's naturally smart--things just come so easily to him, because he's so bloody clever!'

It wasn't until Sirius, Remus, and Peter broke into grins and James's face turned as red as his robes that I realized my mistake. My mouth dropped open but I quickly covered my embarrassment by barking, 'You perverts! Get your mind out of the gutter! I DO NOT LIKE JAMES!'

I felt my own face heating up and I ran from the Common Room before anyone else could get another word in.

Oh Merlin's beard was I going to hear it when Liz came back…

A/N: I hope you liked it! This is my very first fic, so be nice. J This is going to get better and make more sense sooner or later, I promise.

Love always,

Lily-White