-9-

"Yeah..," he blushed. I felt a fleeting stab of irritation. "What is it?"

He looked a bit startled at my curtness. "Why, what's wrong?"

The glass was cool and frosted, when had I last seen frosted glass? Oh yes, Mr. Walter's classroom….decades ago, at least it felt like decades ago. The carefree, bubbly Lily of those days was not quite akin to the crabby, jumpy Lily that I'd become. I leaned against it, hot skin and cold glass. "Nothing."

"Were you crying?" he asked, his pale face turning paler.

"Tuney hates me because of you."

"What-what did I do now?'' he asked.

I reflected back to the conversation I'd had with my sister the night before. We'd quarreled and quarreled some more, the subject being Severus. He'd come to know a startling fact: Petunia had actually written, written to the Headmaster of Hogwarts, asking him for a place at the school. He had written back, of course refusing, but ever so kindly. I'd seen the letter and had given her a piece of my mind ("A SCHOOL FOR FREAKS, HUH?") and she had in return, shouted stuff at me, words I'd never dreamed my once lovely sister capable of uttering. Whatever it was, it stung that a bond forged between us had been broken; thanks to a boy I'd met months ago. He was like nothing I ever knew. He'd changed my perceptions about the world.

But she was my sister.

"The letter."

"Oh." His face was etched with pain. "That."

"Yeah," I said. Anger surged up my forehead, into my green eyes. "That, as you call it."

We were quiet. The world seemed angry.

Then Severus said, very quietly, "But we're GOING!"

And that was it. I broke out laughing. Seriously, that boy was impossible. I laughed, and he did so too, although he probably had no idea why he was doing it. "You dolt, making me laugh."

He tried to become sober but failed badly. I loved the way a tiny dimple-actually, it was not a dimple but a mark, but it had the effect of a dimple-altered his entire face, made the serene features elfish, loved how his eyes had this beautiful midnight glow (as opposed to the usual cavernous black), loved how the sunlight made his face look like very luminous.

I loved it when he smiled.

There was a sudden yank, so sudden that I almost fell over him.

"We're leaving," Sev whispered excitedly.

And strangely, strangely enough, I found myself running to the door. And then I was leaning out, my eleven year-old self back to being itself as I sobbed out, "Maman, Papa, write everyday!"

Father smiled and nodded, and Maman cried out, "You take care, baby!"

Petunia, it seemed, wanted to tell something too. But just before she could, the train drew into a huge dark tunnel and took up speed.

I returned, shaking, to my compartment and took my seat.

"You're looking pretty," Severus ventured bravely.

We were sitting in a-surprise!-empty compartment. The sun flooded the scarlet seats in a gold glow. Outside, green hills and wooden bridges flew past, with the occasional faraway sparkle of some glen. We had had bacon sandwiches and pumpkin pasties from the sweet granny who had wheeled her food through the train, every year, as I came to know. There were also some sweets called chocolate frogs, but I refused to have those, although Sev promised they were just what they seemed to be, frogs of chocolate.

Frogs are just not my thing.

"What?" I asked him, not very politely, because my mouth was full of pumpkin.

"You're looking beautiful," Sev said. He was, I noticed, the exact shade as my hair. I smiled at him. I was wearing a white cotton blouse, its jade-embroidered collar cut Chinese-style, a tunic and flowing skirt of leaf-green velvet with gold rosettes for buttons, matching leaf-green boots and a green scarf. My red hair was done up neatly in two braids with dark green ribbons, and my bangs, just the way I like them, side swept. In this getup, I looked like a quiet responsible young 12-year old, not the usual wild child with long curling bright hair flying to hell.

"Green is your color," he said.

"I know."

There was a knock on the glass door. Before we had time to retort, a voice called out," Are there corpses within or something? For heck's sake, open up!"

"Coming, coming…" I mumbled. The voice sounded young, albeit sharp. I hoped it was a first-year.

Just as I pulled the door open, there was a chaos. Three boys tried to elbow their way within, with the result that the one right at front tumbled straight upon me. There was a bustle, a jumble within which I remember someone stepped upon my skirt, someone-a deep, nice voice said," Take it easy, chick," the tumbled one apologizing profusely and the sharp-voiced one snap,"Oh, in Merlin's name!" I also remember Severus stretching out his hand and pulling me out of the mess.

Straightening myself-and salvaging my dignity-I faced the culprit. He was tall, the tallest of our lot, with an unhealthy complexion and a mesh of freckles all over his sallow face. There was a bunch of sandy-brown stuff on his head. (Hair? Fur?) His eyes, like mine, were green- but they were more of a stormy, cloudy green, the dirty shade where you can't see the black pupils. Yet in spite of these unattractive features, he seemed nice-he had a gentle, embarrassed look which was extremely refreshing.

The first speaker, who had knocked-was another story altogether. He was tall too, but he had none of the gangly feel that made sandy hair so endearing- it was an easy grace that accompanied his height. Untidy, inky black hair framed his face, a face which would have looked drop-dead stunning if he didn't have that permanent sneer etched on it. His eyes were brown, no hazel-they were hazel, but they had the sensuousness, the soft liquid glitter of dark Asian eyes. He had light skin, high cheekbones and a rose-tint to them, and this made me realize he was of Irish parentage, or at least descent.

"James," he said, looking at me (looking at him). "You must be Mary Barton?"

"I'm Lily," I replied, wondering about the unknown Mary Barton.

"Lily?" he said, frowning. "Lily? Name doesn't really ring a bell."

There was something so disgusting, so highly superior about his tone, that I colored. He looked young, perhaps a tad taller, but not a day older than me, yet his attitude suggested he was not less than seventeen. Like "Hey girl, who the hell are you? Haven't seen chicks of your types lately!" I turned away and plopped down on my seat, saying "Neither does yours."

There was a dead silence.

"He's a Potter." Sandy hair finally burst, unable to bear the silence anymore.

"Is he?" I laughed. A potter.

"No, girl." James said. "I'm James Potter."

"Who?"

There was a collective gasp from the three boys. I sighed. Probably a rich spoilt brat of 'Pure'blood parents. Sev had warned me. I turned to face my friend, who had receded into the darkest corner.

"Hey, little goblin," I nudged him. "Say something."

Sev started, then said hesitantly (as though he was afraid the three intruders would eavesdrop), "You better be in Slytherin."

I smiled and was about to reply when James said, "Slytherin? I've heard they churn out Dark Wizards faster than gnomes breed."

"Hang on," the third guy said. "My entire family's been Slytherin!"

"And here we thought you were alright, Sirius!" James laughed. Sandy laughed too, but his eyes dwelt on us, apologetic and reluctant. Chancing a glance at Sirius, I was pleasantly surprised. He was extremely attractive, with curly, raven-black hair, classic regal features and beautiful, beautiful deep turquoise blue eyes with aqua rings (like mine). He was the most beautiful thing, among all of us.

At least back then, he was.

"So where would you go?" Severus asked. I snapped back to James.

"Gryffindor- where dwell the brave at heart!" sang James, pretending to swing a sword. ''You'd be better off in Slytherin," I thought.

"Gryffindor?" Sev sneered. "So, like, you prefer brawn to brains, huh?"

"Where'd you go?" James asked, snorting. "Seeing as to how you've got neither?"

"Alright, enough." I said. I got up, pulled down my bags and reached for Sev, who looked simply furious. "Let's get out of here. These are just some random stupid jerks."

"With a face like that, what are you doing with a Snape?" Sirius asked me, his voice not arrogant, just surprised. It seemed like being a Snape was the equivalent of being a cockroach. Or a lizard.

"Enough!" I literally hauled my friend out of the carriage, and pulled our bags out to the corridor. As I slammed the door shut on the trio's faces, I told James angrily, "With an attitude like that, you are not going to get anywhere in Hogwarts."

The idiots stared at me, and I thought I'd made my point. But then, they burst out laughing like the absolute loons that they were.

And then Sirius said, "With a friend like that, you'll not get anywhere. In life."

They began chuckling again. Sandy hair seemed a bit reluctant, but he went along anyway. I went away, disgusted.

The journey seemed to last forever. It was dark outside, and it felt cold, cold for a September night. I had taken a nap, read a book, and counted sixty-eight students passing to-and-fro outside our compartment. Yet I felt jittery. Sev, on the other hand, merely sat and stared at his hands. He had retreated to the inky depths of his mind since our tryst with the boys. Silence fitted him well, I realized. But not me.

And just as I was beginning to nod again, Sev exclaimed, "Lily! THERE!"

I jumped up, and my eyes darted in the direction of his pointed finger. At first, I merely saw the colors of the night. However, then I caught a distant glimmer. Some pointed spires. And then back to darkness.

Someone tapped upon our door. A senior with dreadlocks and tanned skin. "You better change into those robes, folks," he said, when Sev opened the door. "The train's drawing into Hogsmeade."

We nodded and looked at each other. I read Sev's mind, what he was unable to express.

The same as me.

We were there.