A/N Yay new Lily/James fic. It seems like there just aren't enough of those on the site, which is odd cuz there is a LOT. Hm, go figure. Anyways this fic is written as Lily's journal that she kept during her 6th year.
Disclaimer: I don't own the song below and no I don't own Harry Potter…unfortunately.
I've known a few guys who thought they were—pretty smart
But you've got being right down to an art
You think you're a genius you drive me—up the wall
You're a regular original, a know-it-all
Oh-oo-oh you think you're special
Oh-oo-oh you think you're something else
Okay, so you're a rocket scientist
Have you ever had the feeling that you wanted to kill someone so badly that you didn't even care what the consequences were? Cuz that's what I'm feeling now—that the revenge and pleasure of murder would be worth the sentence to Azkaban that would follow…and even the severe whooping my parents would give me.
My chosen victim: Petunia Evans.
Yes, my own sister, my own flesh and blood. Good lord how I just wish I could wrap my fingers around her throat and—
Whoa, I'm getting a bit carried away there. Normally I'm not that violent or murderous; I'm just sweet little Lily Evans. True I am a very calm individual, but I do not have the innocence of a child. I am 16 years old. I can be assertive, hell; I can be bloody aggressive if you rub me the wrong way. It takes a lot to set me off, but when you do manage to do it; it's not pretty.
Petunia, however, seems to have an unusually consistent talent for heating me up way passed my boiling point, if you catch my drift. Take today for instance. It's the first day of my 6th year at Hogwarts, and what does that insolent little monster of a sister do? She breaks my wand.
You probably think I'm pulling your leg, but I am not the type to make a joke of a serious situation such as this.
I was sitting in my room this morning, double-checking that I had packed everything required for my last year at school, when I hear a knock on my door. Since it's more of a rude, impatient tap, I figure it's my sister Petunia, and since last night she had made a complete fool of me to her fat-arsed pig of a boyfriend, Vernon, I ignored it.
I have awful butterfingers so as I was picking up my wand to examine it and make sure it wasn't damaged in any way, it slipped from my fingertips and rolled across the floor towards my door, which Petunia had taken the liberty of swinging wide open.
"Could you hand me my wand, Petunia?" I asked her stiffly.
She looked at me like I was utterly insane, glanced down at my wand and flinched as if the sight of it burned her precious muggle-only eyes. I sighed knowing that there was no way in hell she was going to touch that thing and said,
"Really, Petunia, it's a stick of wood for Merlin's sake," Petunia narrowed her eyes at the sound of the name "Merlin" but I couldn't care less, "Just pick it up and hand it to me, it's not rocket science."
Slowly, and much to my absolute shock, Petunia reached out a hand and gently lifted my wand off the floor. She lightly rolled it between her fingers and then raised it up sharply, into a dueling position.
When she caught site of me staring she carefully lowered my wand and glared from it, to me, and back to the wand again.
"It's not fair," she muttered more to herself than to anyone else, her eyes never leaving my wand in her hand, "Why are you the one who gets to learn all the magic tricks; while I'm stuck in school learning Algebra and Biology and Spanish?"
"Well Petunia, I did teach myself French in when I was 12," I pointed out.
Petunia ignored me and continued ranting to herself.
"Our parents are so proud of Lily, so very proud to have a witch in the family. A lazy witch who learns how to pull rabbits from hats and turn teacups into rats at her 'school!' And while she does this, I'm studying for my math final!"
"You think my school doesn't give finals?" I cried in outrage, "You think I don't have to work hard at my school? Let me tell you something, Petunia, I work and study 10 times more than you do! You don't even know what hard work is!"
"How dare you!" shrieked Petunia, tightening her grip dangerously on my wand, "How dare you! You…you…you freak!"
"DON'T YOU CALL ME THAT, PETUNIA!" I roared at her, standing up so quickly and furiously that she recoiled about 2 feet into the hallway.
"But…but that's what you are!" cried Petunia, trying to gather up the dignity that had not been scared away from her, "You worship this pathetic stick of wood! Without it; you'd be nothing!"
Her last sentence echoed throughout the hallway. What a time to finally have a sisterly twin thing; we both seemed to register at the same time exactly what that last sentence meant…and exactly what Petunia was going to do…
"Petunia!" I gasped, panicking, "Don't—"
But it was too late. With a sickening crack, my wand snapped in 2 and fell at the feet of my muggle sister.
I stared at the floor, dumbstruck. Shards of willow were spread throughout the break in the middle, and I caught sight of the loveliest strand of hair I'd ever seen. It was long and so purely white; it almost looked silvery. It was the core of my wand; a unicorn hair.
I couldn't bear to touch my ruined wand. It had been delightfully swishy; a very nice wand for charm work. It was made of willow, filled with a unicorn hair, and 10 ¼ inches long. But the thing that hurt most, was not even how much it would cost to replace it; but the fact that there was no other wand in the world exactly like it, for no two wands are alike.
My eyes welled up with tears, and I didn't think I was being the least bit childish about this whole thing. What no one would ever get was that this wand had been my companion for 5 whole years of my life! Almost all of my time at Hogwarts; My most important years! All of my spells had been performed with this wand for the first, second, third and all the times passed that. And now, my oldest friend was dead. Gone and never to return.
I squeezed back the tears in my eyes and suddenly was filled with a rage so fierce, that I believe I would've actually killed Petunia. I am so serious; I was that mad.
But me, being the mature little frump I am, stormed away into my room to write this to try and avoid any murder attempts I would've otherwise made.
Oh dear, my mum's shouting at me that she's starting the car. I'd better go or I'll be so late; I'll miss the train!
So it's obviously quite clear that I didn't miss the train, even if it was by approximately 12 seconds. Ah well, all's well that doesn't start with my parents having to contact Dumbledore to send additional transportation to come and ship his tardy daughter's arse up to school. Haha.
Is it absolutely necessary for Potter to ruin my first day back at Hogwarts EVERY YEAR? I mean, really. Don't you think that if he just put a little effort into it he could spare me one first day back without a huge catastrophe involving his three hoodlums of best friends, Severus Snape and ultimately moi?
Of course not; because that's not the way James Potter operates. Allow me to elaborate on the course of the rest of the day, after my last entry:
I had just finally settled down comfortably in my compartment when I was joined by two of my three best friends, Rosemary Herring and Trina Sprocket. The first thing I noticed was the other member to our little quartet, Eva Meredith, was not present.
This was very strange, since the four of us are rarely seen apart from each other. We're like different parts of a single person. Rosemary's a wise-ass, Eva's a sweetheart, I'm logical and Trina, well let's just say she reminds me of Gilligan from the muggle TV show, Gilligan's Isle. She's a bit slow, a bit cowardly, and an utter idiot—a fool.
But we love her anyway.
Even if she IS a Slytherin.
I know, oh I know what you're thinking. Why the hell are you hanging out with her, Evans? She's going to be evil…PURE EVIL in the future! I am telling you; lose ties while you still can!
Well, apart from the fact that Trina is too stupid and cowardly to be evil (though she must have some cunning in her to be deemed worthy to follow in the slippery footsteps of Salazar Slytherin) I also strongly and highly oppose house racism. Does it really matter if some silly old hat deposited you in "The Big Bad House" instead of the "Good Strong House?" It's not where you're put, it's what you make of your years at Hogwarts.
That being said I am COMPLETELY OKAY with the fact that Trina is in Slytherin. And the fact that Rosemary's in Ravenclaw, Eva in Hufflepuff and myself in Gryffindor. What does it matter? We still care about each other and we're still the best of friends.
Anyway, getting back to the day's events, I therefore inquired as to where our dear friend Eva was at this point and time.
"Oh," said Rosemary shrugging my question aside, "I dunno, she's probably in the prefect compartment getting her death sentence—I mean badge."
"The prefect compartment?" I said, laughing a bit, but hoping I didn't sound too haughty, "Dumbledore made her a prefect this year?"
Don't get me wrong, I, under no circumstances, would want to be a prefect. Certainly I'd accept the opportunity if it came by, but I would never wish on it. It's too much extra responsibility and frankly, I'd just rather not be loathed by my fellow students any more than I have to be.
It must be a dreadfully boring position—poor Eva.
"I know, right?" said Rosemary rolling her hazel eyes, "We were all dying for the chance to be one, and the old geezer gives it to her. Rotten luck."
I raised my eyebrows slightly in disapproval at Rosemary's referral to Dumbledore as an "old geezer." I personally think he is the most remarkable wizard of our age. But to each his own.
And there was the fact that she was joking. Whatever.
"I know!" trilled Trina in her canary-like squawk of a voice, "I so wanted to be a prefect!"
Rosemary and I just look at her.
"It's people like her that give meaning and humor to the phrase 'dumb blonde.'" Rosemary says, shaking her head at Trina, who pulls a lock of her long blonde hair (that is currently in a ponytail) in front of her face and examines it as if to check if Rosemary had been referring to her.
Lord help me with the company I keep.
And while I am thinking this guess who strides into our compartment. Go on, guess!
James Potter. And his partner in crime, Sirius Black.
The door magically bursting open before him, Potter struts into the center of the room and surveys the area. Sirius just lies against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest, smirking in a way that suggested he would be a bystander in the upcoming events.
Good. That's one less ass-hole for me to have to deal with today.
Though it was all very considerate of the two to not have dragged their other two mischief-makers along with them, it did make me wonder as to where exactly the other two were.
Suspiciously, of course.
"Where's Remus?" I demanded cutting Potter off before he had the chance to utter a sound out of his now opened mouth, "And that Pettigrew boy?"
Though Pettigrew was as 16 as were all of us, his height begged to differ, so it's sad to say, that even his own best mates didn't bother to correct me on my use of the word "boy."
What was that emotion flickering in Potter's eyes? Was it jealousy because I wanted to know where his other 2 friends were, for the safety of all life forms on this locomotive?
Ha, serves him right, the arrogant little prick.
I'm not even concerned about the other two, really. If you ask me, Remus Lupin is the only halfway-decent one out of the four of them. And Peter Pettigrew, well, he's a blundering nincompoop to put it bluntly.
Now if Black had been the one absent, then there would have been adequate reason to panic. But seeing as to how this prankster was securely stationed in the doorway, he appeared, for once, to not be much of a threat.
"Lupin is with the other 'perfects' and Peter is around, what's it to you?" Potter sneered at me.
So Remus had been made prefect again. That's the second year in a row, that is. The poor bloke…
And Pettigrew was…around? That answer didn't satisfy me, but my large almond shaped eyes swiveled up to where James Potter was advancing towards me, and Pettigrew's absence was suddenly forgotten.
There was something about the way he moved, his pace steady and well—cocky that just really made me want to issue him a swift kick in the groin, but at the same time, I felt the nagging desire to be…closer to him…for some unexplainable reason.
I mentally shook off this disturbing new feeling and focused my emerald eyes on Potter in a defiant glare.
Since I was still sitting down, when Potter reached me, in order to speak to me face to face, he placed both his hands on either side of my seat and leaned over me.
"Well, Evans," he said, his voice deep and seductive, "I'm here."
Umm…yay?
His breath smelled heavily of chocolate; which wasn't a bad smell. Actually it was kind of nice, but it did suggest that he had recently been wolfing down chocolate frogs by the ton, which struck me as highly unappealing. I just hated it when men inhaled food like that. They always eat as if there's no tomorrow.
"Congratulations on successfully boarding the train," I said flatly, "And no, I will not go out with you."
Potter scowled at me, trying to look angry, but I saw his cheeks flush the shade of his Quidditch robes. He would've actually looked kind of cute; if it weren't for:
1) The fact that he's James Potter
2) The fact that, due to fact #1, he is completely infatuated with me
3) The fact that, due to fact #2, he is obsessive compulsive with asking me out and stalks me in a way that makes him seem completely and utterly desperate.
All of the above are way less than attractive, and #2 is probably just all lust, because James Potter seems incapable of loving anyone other than himself.
And maybe his Nimbus 1000 broom.
Though it seems equally unlikely that anyone could feel lust for me. I mean, I know I'm not horribly disfigured, but I refuse to believe that I am the next Jennifer Anniston (a beautiful muggle actress).
Potter's probably only lusting me because I'm the only girl in the whole damn castle who he hasn't slept with. I mean really, how hard is it to NOT jump under a guy's sheets in your starkies and yell, "Okay, I'm ready to lose my virginity now!"
Especially when that guy is James Potter.
Potter stared at me, frustration and embarrassment clashing horribly on his face, and then slowly cracked out a sinister looking smirk.
"Fine, Evans," he spat, "Have it your way. Now if you would be so kind as to follow us up to the roof there's—"
Suddenly I heard a HUGE crash come from the top of the car. A highly painful sounding yelp followed and I could feel something fairly soft yet large, thudding into the window behind me.
Potter's mouth dropped open as he looked over my shoulder, and then he and Sirius exchanged looks and doubled over laughing their egotistical heads off.
Rosemary and Trina, who had remained silent for the most of this escapade, widened their eyes in fear and gasped.
I spun around, my long auburn hair nearly giving me whiplash, and let out a shriek of sheer horror.
There was a body hanging outside the train window, smacking into it as the train sped on faster and faster towards its destination. The body was barely recognizable, because it was blurred by the speed of the train, but it was definitely distinguishable as a 6th year male.
There was a rope bound around the guy's ankles and wrists, and the holder of the ropes seemed to be situated on the roof of the Hogwarts Express. Every time the train crossed over rough terrain, the guy would slip farther and farther down towards the tracks. He was now level with the windowsill.
The guy let out a yelp that informed the 5 passengers in the car that he was somehow still alive, but if he slipped any further…
The train thrust over a bump in the landscape, and the guy did a 180 degree turn as he slipped even lower towards the tracks, leaving his face momentarily pressed up against the window before he slid down it.
It was Severus Snape.
A/N well umm…bit of cliffhanger there, I suppose. Lol Review and I'll update sooner! Let me know what you think so far!