A/N: I have decided to re-write this story, though there will be certain elements that are kept the same. The diary entries, I suspect, will be kept the same just used in a different context.

Mea maxima culpa for letting this story die a long, slow death, so I think it is time for a resurrection. Look out for 'Losing Her Wings', which will be the title of said re-working. My reasons for re-writing this story are numerous, the main one being that I have no idea what is happening or why it happened. This story erupted from a little chapter intended to be a one-shot that spirited out of control.

And just so I don't feel quite as horrifically guilty, this is part of the eighth chapter I had written but not finished until I decided to discontinue.

Chapter 8

Lily cracked one eye open and immediately regretted waking up. She whimpered as she felt reality deal a hard blow to her head, giving her a headache to add to her aching eyes. Crying all night until you fall to sleep from exhaustion is not good for your health, Lily thought bitterly as she sat up in bed.

Rubbing at her eyes with the back of her hand, Lily stumbled into the bathroom to get washed and changed. She emerged a few minutes later in a white T-shirt and jeans, her hair left to the four winds (despite the fact she had forced a comb through it). As she looked at her reflection in the wardrobe door's full length mirror, she noticed that she looked exactly as she felt: Battered, defeated and borderline depressed.

Cross that, she was already depressed, if not manically so.

She wouldn't go to Hogsmeade. McGonagall and Filch were sadly mistaken if they thought they could have invisible chaperone Lily Evans on the trip today. She would much rather eat her own head then see Felicity simper over James Potter.

Picking up the hot mug of chocolate on the desk, she walked to the window and started to look out when something caught her eye. A window seat, adorned with cushions so she could lie down and watch Hogwarts as it passed her by. Now that was something that wasn't there before.

Sighing, she collapsed down onto the window seat, careful not to spill any of the sweet liquid that she cherished. The sky was a brilliant shade of azure, the sun's beams reaching over the horizon and directly into her eyes.

Lily averted her gaze downwards and began to feel the heaviness settle on her shoulders again. By some weird, twisted way, such a perfect day had made her feel even worse. If only it was cloudy, or better yet, raining. Maybe she could have done something to make her feel better then.

The witch drained the last drop from her mug and placed it back on the desk. She wasn't hungry; she was never hungry in the morning. She doubted she would be hungry during the course of the day. Contrary to rumours, she wasn't anorexic. She just wasn't hungry enough to obtain the stylish voluptuous figure of this season.

Lily cracked open the portrait and peered out of the slit. No one noticed the inquisitive pair of green eyes as she spied on all the people who headed to the Great Hall for breakfast. Once again, she saw the irony of having her room hidden by Joan of Arc, one of the bravest women in history housing one of the weakest women in history.

Her already dark mood was further shaded in by the sight of Felicity hanging onto James' arm, with Diana not far behind languishing in the attentions of Sirius Black. Remus trailed behind, nose buried in a book with Peter and Clare chatting animatedly beside him.

Even Peter had somebody to talk to apart from the boys he worshipped. Clare, a friendly blonde from Ravenclaw had taken to the boy and they had formed a close friendship. Nothing romantic, of course. She was by no means pretty enough for him, and he was by no means smart enough for her.

Lily retruded back into her shell and threw herself, face-first, onto the bed. She then proceeded to scream into her pillow and attempt to smother herself with it.