AN: Nothing to say. Thanks for the reviews and read Bella Catherina's stories. Champion. Keep reading, heaps to come.
Life didn't come to a crashing halt because I was now parentless. The funeral was moving and beautiful, but I barely moved. I didn't cry, didn't move. I watch my parents lowered down at the committal, and just stared up at the ceiling. I don't know why I didn't break down, but I just couldn't.
I went back to Hogwarts the very next day. I had been kindly informed by my sister that I was to have no contact whatsoever with her, that she was boarding at her school and getting married to her boyfriend, Vernon, next year. I was not invited to the wedding.
Hogwarts was bustling, people in the halls were laughing, joking, carrying on. It seemed like I was immune, apart from everything. People looked at me strangely and avoided me, as if I had a disease they were afraid they might catch. The only people who treated me remotely the same were my friends and, strangely, James Potter and Remus Lupin. Although, Potter seemed slightly different lately. No surprise. This year was to be quite... different.
I sighed and picked at my breakfast. All around me Gryffindors were chattering and I caught the tail end of a few conversations.
'... she wanted me to bring my old robes, just in case, but I wanted new ones. I mean, I'm not going to wear the same dress robes twice, that's just ridiculous!'
'... I reckon Divination is ridiculous...'
'Mail!'
My head snapped up like everyone else's as the owls flew in and swooped around, letters, parcels and newspapers flying everywhere. The final owl winged its way out of the Great Hall and the room exploded with chatter. No black envelope... not one.
I glanced up in amazement and spotted Potter sitting across from me. He was very pale and quiet, moving his food around his plate, just like I was. My jaw dropped as I saw him shrug his shoulder and tuck something back into the pocket of his robes.
A black envelope.
I found him later that day. It didn't seem right, unlike the day I'd... I'd found out, it was bright and sunny, the odd fluffy white cloud gliding across the sun. He was standing beneath the willow, exactly where I had sat crying my eyes out just last week. The letter was dangling from his finger tips but he wasn't crying. His face was white, entire body trembling. I knew I should walk away, but I couldn't help myself. I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear and tiptoed up to him.
'Are you ok?' I asked tentatively, resting my hand on his arm.
It was like I shot him. He leapt back from me and whipped around, his lips white with fury.
'Don't touch me!'
I gasped and took a step back. 'I was trying to hel-.'
'Yeah, sure,' he sneered, nodding sarcastically. 'You just love to help, don't you? More like you want to rub my nose in it! You march around this school thinking you're so good, better than everyone else! Well, I have news for you, you're not! You're no different to me or Sirius or anyone else around here! Just because you're smart and beautiful doesn't mean you can look down your nose at me! I've grown up a lot over the holidays, I've changed and you still look at me as if I'm some sort of ape in robes, waving a wand around, like some worthless stick! I'm still not good enough to be friends with! I tried so hard since the holidays to be friends with you but you don't give me a chance! Well, I give up, you win, see you later, Lily!'
He glared at me and marched off. I sat suddenly on the grass, his words ringing in my ears. My mind reeled, not only because James had finally spat out the truth. He called me Lily.
I never told my friends about James and what he'd said, his sudden explosive revelation. I never knew he thought of me like that but, typically, within a day I had reached the opinion that he had no reason to judge me and he hating me would probably be a good thing. At least the chance of him asking me out was now null. I convinced myself that he was wrong, he's always wrong, what right did he have to say such things to me? Deep down I knew he was right, but I wanted to believe it was all him.
'You and Potter had a lovers tiff?'
The question was so absurd, I ignored it, but Aoife nudged Sam in the arm anyway. They had a whispered debate which, I assumed, Aoife won, because Sammy buried her face in her book again, scowling. Potter and his mates were sitting across the other side of the common room, studying quietly (which astounded me in the first place) and Sam had noticed the look of vehemence Potter had shot at me. I felt my cheeks burn as I stared at the pages of the book, and the black letters in front of me shifted as a sudden wall of tears blocked my clear view. I blinked them away. Why was I crying? It was his problem, not mine. Sixth year was going to be very different...