A/N: Now, before you say ANYTHING, I apologise profusely for the humungous wait. But I had to do all the stuff people normally do during holidays - you know, buying presents, wrapping presents, recieving presents, using presents, cleaning up the bloody wrapping paper that gets everywhere, going on holiday - which I have been doing for the past three weeks. Now, as fun as lying on beautiful, sunny beaches is, I had no internet. In fact, I only just got back today, and I'm utterly exhausted.
Thischaphas not been betta'd, because I knew that if I didn't update soon, you would all go feral on me and try and rip out my throat. Or just remove me from your alert lists or whatever. Its also not brilliant, because, as I said, I am very tired. Also, its short.
All in LilyPOV, and yes, YES, I will eventually do something from James' point of veiw. Next chapter, I swear.
Happy readings. :D
I was in Ancient Runes today, and me and Sarah sit together on a four seater desk. Across from us sit two Ravenclaw girls.The first one has long dark hair with high cheekbones and slanted eyes, one of those intimidatingly beautiful people that look like they descended from Olympus or something. And her name is Helena Smith. And then there's another one that has an infuriating smirk, a heart shaped face and huge brown doe eyes. And her name is Dorcas Meadowes.
I hate them both.
Dorcas is the bimbo that is going out with Potter. Only the annoying thing is, she isn't a bimbo. Sure, she's blond, pretty and she won't shut up, but she's clever.
Really, really clever.
More clever than me.
I understand that I am not the most intelligent girl in the year.
Well, I understand that now.
When I think about it, I'm good at most things. I'm top of the class at Potions and Charms. I'm quite good at Transfiguration, although that bloody Potter is better. The DADA teachers have never had cause to complain. (And I mean teachers - the school hasn't been able to hold a professor for more than a year for as long as I've been attending Hogwarts)
My Herbology marks aren't bad – mostly thanks to Sarah, mind you. She has a bit of a knack for the subject. My History of Magic isn't too shabby either (of course, nobody gets higher than an E in HOM. I'd like to know if there is anybody in the world who is fully attentive in that class).
Arithmancy isn't my best subject, but I work so hard at it that I end up with O's. I absolutely detest Muggle Studies, but I'm best in the class at that – its not like I don't have an advantage. I was raised by Muggles.
And I used to think I was the best at Ancient Runes.
Until I met Meadowes.
I'm not used to being beaten. Sure, I resigned myself to the fact that I'm not the best at Transfiguration or Herbology. But in Ancient Runes, I felt secure in thinking that I was damn good. However, it would seem that Dorcas' deciphering skills far outstrip my own, the cow.
Her obvious talent has been bugging me all year. But I gritted my teeth and tried to get used to being second best.
It didn't work.
Today we were translating this really difficult piece of the Book of the Dead. And I was a bit over halfway and feeling very proud of myself. So I looked up to see how everyone was doing.
And Meadowes was finished.
I sat there for a few minutes gaping at her. She saw my expression and smirked at me.
"The next phrase is 'Auset began to collect the pieces of her dead husband.'" Meadowes whispered to me, with what she must have thought was a conspiratorial smile. I honestly felt like punching her face in.
But I did the breathing exercise that I always use to contain my temper.They weremasterfully designed in the summer before third year, when Petunia decided that having a witch for a sister was not cool. I spent the whole holiday sobbing my eyes out and yelling at her.
It was during this troubled period of my life that I developed 'Lily's calming Breathing Exercises'. They go something like the following:
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
They help me keep level-headed. I returned to my translation, still practicing the Breathing Exercises.
"Why are you doing Pregnancy Breathing?" Meadowes asked, obviously amused. Sarah snorted with laughter next to me, but was quickly silenced by a steely glare.
"I was doing no such thing." I must have sounded really pompous, because both Sarah and Smith were trying to conceal their giggles, and doing an appalling job of it.
"You so were." Sarah informed me.
"I wasn't!"
"Yeah, you were." Smith said.
"It doesn't matter." Meadowes addressed Smith, and they returned to their work. Well, the former did. Meadowes, however, looked across the classroom and sighted something that made her beam. I turned around to see what it was.
Potter.
To any sane girl, Potter is a sight to make you retch, as opposed to a sight to make you simper. He was grinning back at her, with his stupid irritating smile, that looks so smug and arrogant, showing lots of his straight, even, white teeth. I don't know how he gets his teeth so perfect. I've tried every tooth spell in the history of creation, but I've still got a mouthful of wonky molars. I've developed a habit of smiling with my mouth closed. It looks stupid, but its better than showing my hideous canines to the world.
Potterscribbled something on a piece of parchment and threw it in Meadowes direction. She opened it and smiled to herself, and sent her reply sailing over my head and into his hands. He read it, smirked and showed what was written there to Black, who was sitting next to him. They shared one of those looks – those priggish grins that boys do when they are very satisfied with themselves.
"What does she see in him?" I muttered under my breath. I didn't really intend for her to hear, but she did.
"S'cuse me?" Meadowes looked affronted.
"Did you hear that?" I winced.
"Well, obviously. Thats why I responded" she said icily.
"I'm sorry."
There was a silence for a few minutes, before she said
"Why do you hate him so much?"
I thought about that. And I remembered why I hated Potter. Its not a happy memory. More the type that makes you want to hide.
It all started in second year. Now, before that, boys were worse than vermin. They had Germs. They were Ugly and Stupid. They were Stinky.
(The only exception of this rule was Frank. All the girls loved him. He sat with us at meals, and talked to us all the time. He was nice, and deemed an honorary girl)
In second year, this all changed. No longer were boys the enemy. No longer were they gross or disgusting. Oh no.
No. Boys became potential boyfriends.
Fancying a boy became sort of like an accessory – every girl had to fancy one, otherwise she was just too uncool for words.
Well, Nina decided to fancy Gideon Prewett, a ginger headed fourth year, who was, at the time, seeker of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.
And I fancied...
Don't laugh.
I fancied Potter.
Well, I was only twelve. And to a girl of twelve, Potter could seem like boyfriend material.
If you had a couple of screws up in your head loose.
One day, in Transfiguration, Nina and I were sitting with Sarah Thompson and Jessica Wood, both of whom shared our dorm. We didn't really know them, though – we stuck together, me and Nina. We didn't need anyone else. But we were in awe of Sarah, for she had what we all wanted.
A boyfriend.
He was Ronan Davies, and he was in third year. She told him a week previously that she fancied him – and he asked her if she wanted to go round with him. Well, every girl and her owl had seen Ronan and Sarah holding hands between classes. Despite the boycraze of the second year girls, psychical contact as extreme as hand holding seemed almost obscene. And to do it in public!
Well, sitting across from Sarah, and hearing her story first hand rather emboldened me and Nina. It was unfortunate that Gideon wasn't in the room, but Potter was. So me and the other three girls excitedly composed a letter to 'James', telling him of my affections.
It went something along these lines:
James,
I like you.
Do you want to go round with me?
-Lily.
Cringeworthy, isn't it?
Well, Sarah threw the note over to him (My aim is rubbish) and he raised his eyebrow at us, in a way that, back then, I thought was absolutely SMOULDERING.
Well, then he read the note.
And he showed it to Black.
And they burst into laughter.
I was horrified. But as if that wasn't enough, he wrote back.
Dear Lily,
I wouldn't go out with you if it were a choice between you and the giant squid.
Sincerely,
Your one and only true love,
-James Potter
I'd like to say that I sneered at him and decided he was an arse right then and there, but that would be lying. What I did was flee from the classroom in tears, sob all the way up to Gryffindor tower, fling myself on my bed and cry my little heart out for hours.
Overreaction? Yeah. But I was only twelve.
I bawled myself to sleep, and when I woke up, Sarah and Nina were sitting on my bed, looking worried.
Nina had brought me some Every Flavour Beans from her secret stash (these were the days her secret stash was totally non-alcoholic) and Sarah braided my hair, and Nina told me that she'd lived next door to James for years, and that he was the biggest prick in all of humanity, and that it was a good thing that he was too stupid to realise how wonderful I was, because I deserved better. And Sarah said that James was far too immature to be a good boyfriend, and that she bet his hands were all sweaty and gross and no good for holding anyway. This made me feel a bit better, although I pretended I was sick and skipped the rest of my classes for the day.
Oddly enough,itis also the story of how Sarah became my friend. Funny, that.
Its weird, but, looking back, I wouldn't have thought I would have reallywanted a boyfriend at all. I mean, at the moment, my hormones are going mad and I really want to pop over to the boys dorms and give Remus Lupin a bit of a shag, but this was pre-pubescent Lily. I was skinny, I was completely flat-chested, my hair had not encountered a comb in a long while, and I was a tomboy. Girly things didn't interest me, so it follows logically that I would not allow myself to be dragged along in the second-year torrent of boylove. But I did.
I never much liked Quidditch, which would be reasonable grounds to question my claims to tomboyhood, but I was always a fierce competitor. However, competing was restricted to non-athletic activities, because I am possibly the most uncoordinated person to ever grace the halls of Hogwarts. So, instead, I became passionate about winning at academics.
I am, to this day, still very combative, which brings us back to the here and now of Dorcas Meadowes and her stupidly precocious translating talent.
My reply to her question?
"Uhm..."
Before Meadowes could try and pry a more articulate answer out of me, class ended, with the homework to complete our translations, and Potter walked past, grabbed her round her waist, and steered her out the door, her giggling like a lunatic all the while.
Stupid bitch.
A/N: Lily so isn't jealous. shiftyeyes
Reveiw and make me a happy banana. And DO NOT BE NICE. BE OVERLY CRITICAL.
But... don't be too overly critcal. You don't want me getting all depressed and going emo on you, do you? Fuck canon, I could make Remus top himself over the agony in his life, James turn goth, Lily turn Death Eater, Sirius kill his mother and Voldemort come and Avada anyone that I haven't killed off yet.
I kid you not. Hamlet was a big hit and look what happened to all the main protagonists in that.
- Banana
(As always, marshies to anyone who reveiws. Sometimes I thinkmallows arethe only reason you ever reveiw! -angst-)
