Disclaimer: I don't own anything but my plot, ideas and characters.

Disclaimer II: I don't own the song Stupid Girls. That belongs to Pink (one of my all time favourite singers!)

Disasters all around
World despaired
Your only concern
Will it f--k up my hair

"Stupid Girls"

Enjoy.

Lily

Oh, yay, look what sixth and last lesson of the day has brought us in 5G12. Social Education. Social Education is just a euphemistic term to describe 'torture inflicted on young adults (i.e. teenagers) to sub tone the harsh reality that is our lives.'

And yes, in answer to the question you're probably thinking, it really is that bad. Especially in a class which has Potter and his morons in tow. Well, moron is a bit harsh, because Remus is actually not that bad. Plus, he is best friend (or at least was) with one of my friends, so I kinda have to accept him. But it doesn't mean I have to accept Black, Pettigrew or least of all- Potter.

I mean, why should I, when all they ever do is make fun of me? Or if they're Potter, just drive me insane by asking me out every five minutes? He can't get it through his thick skull- I. Do. Not. Like. Him. At. All.

Jenna and Andie were talking quietly together, looking at a page filled with Andie's handwriting and doodles. Carrie was smiling wistfully at Ronnie Lyon. Why don't they get their act together and just… get together!

McGonagall finally remembered she had a class and promptly dragged her sweet derrière to her classroom. Sarcasm isn't my thing, can you tell?

'Hush. Settle down. That means you too, Mr Lyon,' she reprimanded Ronnie, a sweet but clueless guy with red hair, blue eyes and freckles scattered across his nose. Ronnie rolled his eyes but shut up.

McGonagall wrote up the date and title of today's work (Evaluation of fourth year- joy!) and flicked her wand at her desk. Leaflets flew around the room, landing in front of people on the desks, which sat four.

The screaming title equalled the screaming girls.

'A Christmas Dance! Oh my God!' screamed Eva Grid.

'I don't have a fancy dress costume!' screamed Lola Zehauski.

'I broke a nail!' wailed Delilah Simmons.

The only one of the perfect, bitchy little foursome who kept her mouth well and truly zipped was Andrea Wallis, who had so almost got her butt kicked by a good friend of mine, Dawn Jones. I never take advantage of people (except the Marauder boys) but I must say, I can sleep easier at night knowing that I'm a friend of Dawn.

'Quiet!' snapped McGonagall. I guess having our class last thing on a Monday really tested her frayed patience.

I reluctantly glanced down at my own leaflet and couldn't help the feeling of dread sneak over me the more I read.

CHRISTMAS DANCE!

Night of December 25th

8.00 'til late!

Costumed

Partnered

1-7th Years

(Prizes will be given to the best-dressed couple of each year)

Oh, Mary, Jesus and the other guy (as Andie would say.) Another chance for Potter to ask me ludicrous questions.

'It sounds so cool!' said Carrie so enthusiastically I felt bad for her when she saw the looks on our three faces, the smile faded instantly but the idea hung in the air.

'Well, it could be fun,' said Andie unconvincingly.

'We could go shopping in Hogsmeade for costumes! Pleeeeease?'

'I'll have work at the diner,' said Jenna, her face tightening.

'Duh! Lunch break! You must get one of those!'

I almost giggled. Carrie can be such a ditz sometimes. Once we were talking about exercise, and Carrie came out with: "Oh, I do that, except when I don't."

'Well, Mum might be happy that I want to go and shop, so she might even give me an afternoon off!' Jenna lightened up.

'We could take photos for our Femme Marauder Scrapbook,' Andie brightened up.

'What you talking about Marauders for?' Sirius said, his glum look cast aside.

'Saying you're a brainless wonder,' lied Andie fluently, completely brightened up now.

And guess who stayed under a cloud? That's right, me. Because-

'Lily,' said two voices in unison.

'Will you go to the ball with me?'

Great. The ludicrous question from Potter has started. Count One.

XxX.

By Friday the little patience that I had was close to meltdown. Potter was on Count Two Hundred and Seventy-Eight and all everyone is talking about is the Christmas Dance.

The only talk right now is: who's going with who? Who asked who? Who got turned down by who? What are you wearing with? Who are you going with? How are you wearing your hair? Where are you buying your costume? What is your costume? Did he ask her or did she ask him? Oh my god, she cannot be seriously thinking of wearing that? And how late is late?

SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP YOU BRAINLESS WONDERS!

I said as much to Severus Snape, who I'm sort of dating.

Or at least… I don't know. We have some sort of relationship but its entirely secret. It's kind of thrilling, actually. He's my bit of spice into my bland (love) life.

Hey, that kind of rhymes… I should tell Andie and Jenna and they can work it into a song. They are trying (and as far as I know, failing) to kick-start a rocking band that will sky plummet them to worldwide fame and recording studios.

Anyway, back to Severus Snape the spice in my life. I've only had two other boyfriends, and let's just say… they didn't work out. So it's always kind of fun and scarily cool when we almost get caught. Which have only been about forty-three… um, no, seven hundred times!

The reason for all the secrecy is well, no one would be thrilled if we went public would they? They wouldn't be happy and they wouldn't want it. But what about what Severus and I wanted? What about our happiness?

'Nobody's making a fuss, then?' Sev said dryly, gazing at our interlocked fingers. I look too.

We've both got pale skin, except my hands are dotted with a few oddly placed freckles. We're both nail biters, except mine are painted blue right now. His hands are roughish with a couple of calluses and mine are softish from the moisturisers I steal from Carrie, Andie and Jenna. (I know! I'm a scrounger!)

The big thick books that no one ever reads, they just scribble on, are piled up high as always, concealing us from the judging world. Sev scribbles all over his potions book, actually. He's doing it right now with his free hand. His handwriting is really messy, all scrunched up and small. He stared at me with that strange look he gets.

With a deep breath and all my courage-

'Do you hate what I am, Sev?'

He added another scribbled note to the margin.

'What, a Gryffindor? Yep,' he said, deadpan voice. I shoved his shoulder and I got a rare smile. It's like the sun shining on a cold day. He turned back to the desk and dipped his quill in more black ink.

'No, a…' I almost gagged on the word that had caused me so much heartache. 'A Mudblood.'

Sev put his dripping quill down and looked at me in shock.

'What?'

'Do you hate that I'm a Mudblood?' I repeated.

'It's just blood. If I was to slit my wrist and slit yours, the blood coming out would look exactly the same.'

'Well, yeah, but its not really…' I stammered my way through the sentence.

'OK, fine, have it your way. You're a Mudblood, right? And I'm a Halfblood? Where's the line in me that separates the Pure from the Muggle? There's not. Because it doesn't matter. Blood isn't people,' he said, passion in his voice and light in his unusually dark eyes.

'It matters to some people.'

'Yeah, because their blood is the only thing they have to be proud of. Imagine how ugly they must be.'

I giggled and he smiled at me again. Oh my god! Two smiles in five minutes! Miracle!

'You made a joke, Sev! That's not like you!' I said in mock surprise.

Sev rolled his eyes and finished his scrawl inside the margin. The whole thing was almost black with his notes. I sneaked a peek but all I saw was a confusing mess of arrows and unreadable writing. That spice is a mystery to me. I cannot stop calling him spice.

'So, what you were saying before. Are you sick of this dance before its even begun?'

'Yes!' I exclaimed. 'Its an epidemic and I'm scared there ain't a cure for all those stupid girls that won't stop screaming about it!'

'So does that mean you won't go with me?' Sev strived for casual but I noticed the nervousness in his voice.

I was so surprised I could only squeak.

'You want to go to the dance with me?'

'Yep. Only as a last resort, of course,' he informed me loftily.

I made an indignant noise, the kind Jenna always makes. What can I say? Friends pick up habits form each other.

'Of course,' I drawled, 'You do realise if I get a better offer you're dropped like yesterdays Daily Prophet?'

'And you do know that I'm only taking you because all the good-looking ones are already gone?' he drawled back.

'You had better be kidding, spice.'

Oh Mary Jesus and the other guy!

'What!'

'Oh, just shut up.'

Then I kissed him. It's the best way to distract a man on the spot. Well actually there are other ways, but if you miss out food, then its one of the only ways you can fully distract a man (publicly) without getting arrested! Get what I'm saying!

'Course you do. You're not a brainless wonder.