Disclaimer: I don't own it.
Chapter 2: Getting to Know the School
(September 1st- Christmas Holidays, First Year)
My first thought as Mummy shook me awake on September 1st was that, if I had to wake up this early every day during the school year, I might just snap. I moved so slowly and so sleepily through the morning that, not only did I not have to chance to finish my breakfast--toast with a generous serving of butter--I also forgot my drawing supplies in the rush to leave on time. Mummy and Daddy were furious when I insisted we go back home, especially since I refused to tell them why. In the end, though, after I let out a few (fake) tears, Daddy gave in and speeded back home.
Even with Daddy's speeding, however, we barely made it to Platform Nine and Three Quarters on time. Hugo and Céline were nowhere to be found. I figured they'd already gotten a compartment and spent the next twenty minutes dragging my luggage through the train before I finally found them in a compartment with Rose and Al (I wondered how he'd managed to get there before me). The four were in the middle of an animated discussion about the latest quidditch match between the Appleby Arrows and the Wigtown Wanderers, though Céline looked as if she were about to die of boredom from the topic. As soon as she saw me, she quickly gestured to the seat next to her and started to talk.
"Where have you been?" she demanded. "I've been dying to talk to you! Guess what I heard coming on the train?"
"What?" I asked, plopping tiredly down next to her and letting out a sigh.
"Fred--our dear, immature, idiotic cousin Fred--has a girlfriend." I let out a gasp. Fred had always been, well, childish and untactful, more into pranking people and wreaking havoc than dating girls. I was amazed that he'd been willing to commit to a girl, and even more amazed that a girl would agree to go out with him. "Her name's Savannah Woods."
"The Gryffindor Keeper?" I asked, and Céline nodded. "Is she really good at quidditch?" I already was worried that, when I tried out for the quidditch team next year, she'd be much better than me; how could I get the position over someone with seniority?
Céline rose an eyebrow. "How am I supposed to know? I haven't exactly seen her play yet. But," she added, seeing my anxiety, "I'm sure you're a better player than her."
"Well," I said, shrugging, "maybe it won't matter. Maybe I'll be Sorted into another House."
"What are you talking about?" asked Céline. "Of course you'll be a Gryffindor. How could you not be?"
"I--" I began, but I was cut off as the compartment door opened.
"Have you seen Ch--" a boy started, but he broke off once his cold gray eyes had swept over the five of us in the compartment. The first thing I noticed about him was the fact that he was tall--much taller than his youthful face seemed to warrant. The second, Rose's clenched jaw and narrowed eyes. He glanced once more at us all, curtly muttered, "Never mind," and left.
As soon as he was gone, I turned, as did Hugo and Céline, questioningly towards Al. "Malfoy," he quickly explained, staring with evident dislike at the closed door.
"What a git!" exclaimed Hugo, looking towards Al for approval of his assessment. Rose, however, was the one to praise his opinion.
Personally, I didn't find him to be too much of a git. Sure, he acted rudely, but it was obvious from Rose's glower and Al's quiet hostility that he wasn't wanted, and I knew I'd be rude if placed in the same position. Besides, I had made a vow not to judge anyone until I had enough evidence to do so fairly, and I intended to keep it. I was nothing if not truthful to my promises, even when I was the only one who knew about said promises.
I mused on this manner for a while, until the food trolley came by. As I was starving--my stomach needed more substance than half a breakfast could provide--I spent over three galleons to buy a towering mound of my favorite sweet, Cauldron Cakes. Hugo unthinkingly reached for one of my Cakes, but I immediately slapped his hand away.
"Come on!" he exclaimed in exasperation. "It's not like you can eat all of them on your own!"
"Want to bet?" I asked him, protectively putting an arm in front of the pile.
"Lily, don't," Al warned me, "you'll make yourself sick."
Hugo, however, seemed eager to take the bet, so I chose to ignore Albus' advice. I won the bet, but, less than an hour later, I was wishing that I hadn't; my stomach felt as if it were writhing, and the swaying motion of the train only exacerbated the feeling. I definitely wasn't looking forward to the Welcoming Feast that Hugo kept asking Al about. I managed to suck up my queasiness for most of the journey, though, until Hugo mentioned--so very stupidly, considering the fact that, at that point, we were in the unsteady first year boats traveling across a vast lake--the one food guaranteed to make me sick: cheese. I turned pale and vomited straight into the water. ("Remind me never to swim in here," Céline said, scrunching up her face in disgust).
"Sorry," said Hugo sheepishly. "I forgot you hated cheese." I could understand why he forgot, since most people lovecheese, but I was still inclined to be mad at him. As my best friend, he really should have remembered; he was, after all, the one who teased me most often about my inability so much as look at a pizza without feeling ill.
The story of my upchucking spread quickly, as gossip is wont to do; by the time that we first years were called into the Great Hall, I was known by most of my peers as "vomit girl." I knew James and Al would love the nickname once they heard it; they'd probably think the story was a riot. For this reason, I couldn't look at them when I entered, even though I knew that the gossip hadn't yet spread to them.
"Food," Hugo moaned, seeing all the plates on the House tables. "I need food."
"Don't talk to me about food," I warned him, my stomach already beginning to twist again at the thought.
"Shut up, both of you," Céline hissed. "I'm trying to listen." She nodded her head towards Professor Longbottom--I had to remind myself not to call him "Uncle Neville" at school--who, as Deputy Headmaster, was reading off a list with the name of the first year students. Hugo opened his mouth to reply, but he wisely closed it again at Céline's glare.
Eventually the time came when my own name was called out, and I turned bright red. Now my peers had a name to attach to "vomit girl." I was thankful, therefore, when the Sorting Hat, tattered and dusty, fell down past my nose and blocked out my view of all the smirking faces. I felt downright small in that Hat, though; it hadn't covered anyone else's face as completely as it did mine.
"Slytherin, eh?" the Hat said, the voice sounding so much like it was coming from within me that I jumped. "No need to be frightened, it's just me, the Sorting Hat. You're not going crazy."
'I'm not frightened,' I reflexively thought, and I heard the voice give a wheezy chuckle.
"Of course you aren't. You've got a lot of bravery in you. Gryffindor bravery. Maybe it's not the flashy sort that your eldest brother has, and maybe it's not always as obvious, even to you, but it's there. You're courage is a steady as a rock; it'll allow you to remain true to your morals and beliefs no matter what obstacles you face. Yet, a part of you doesn't want Gryffindor, does it? A part of you wants Slytherin. How unusual, for all the Potters that I've ever known have always begged me not to place them in Slytherin."
'Well, why not Slytherin? It can't be as bad as everyone says.'
"Of course it isn't; it has as many strengths to balance out its weaknesses as any of the other Houses. These strengths, however, you do not possess. You lack the ambition, the thirst to prove yourself."
'How do you know?' I thought back, because, really, the nerve of that hat, trying to explain myself to me.
The voice laughed again. "I can see into your head, Lily Ginevra Potter. I know you better than you know yourself. You don't feel the Slytherin need to show your talent; you're confident in yourself with or without others' praise and recognition." I couldn't deny that, as much as I wanted to. "You know I'm right. This desire to defy all stereotypes only strengthens your Gryffindor qualities; it takes true courage to overcome prejudices. You clearly belong in GRYFFINDOR!"
My groan was drowned out by a storm of clapping. I took my seat next to James and Al feeling somehow disappointed, though I knew I shouldn't have been. I had, after all, always wanted to be with my family in Gryffindor; and, even at its strongest, the part of me that wanted Slytherin was small. I had just felt like, as stupid as it sounded, my destiny somehow lay with the Serpent House, but apparently I was wrong.
"Weasley, Céline!" I heard Professor Longbottom call out, and Céline confidently walked up to the stool. Half of the male population let out a collective gasp at her beauty, and I rolled my eyes at their shallowness. She was only eleven years old and they were already lusting after her; it was pathetic.
A few seats down the table from me, I saw my cousin Marie sit up straighter in her seat. No doubt she was hoping that one of her sisters would finally join her in Gryffindor--Victoire had been in Ravenclaw, as had the twins, Sophie and Angelique--no matter how much she liked to claim indifference to her separation. I wished Céline would become a Gryffindor, too, but I'd be lying if I said Marie was the reason; I just wanted my best friend to be with me.
The Sorting Hat took about fifteen seconds to make a decision about Céline before it shouted out, "RAVENCLAW!" Our eyes met across the Great Hall, and she looked as heartbroken as I imagine I did. What was I going to do without Céline in Gryffindor?
"Weasley, Hugo!" came next, and I clenched my fists anxiously. What if Hugo, too, was Sorted into a different House? I didn't think I could take it. Thankfully, however, the Hat announced, "GRYFFINDOR!" within three seconds of being placed on his head.
I refused to eat any of the food that magically appeared on the plates after "Yates, William!" took his place at the Hufflepuff table, though Hugo kept waving food at me in what I assume he meant to be an appetizing way, but which in actuality made me want to never eat again. I was thankful when the food vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. Headmistress Sprout recited a speech about the new year, and as soon as she finished, Céline rushed across the hall and threw her arms sadly around me.
"I tried to get the Sorting Hat to put me in Gryffindor," she complained, her eyes swimming with unshed tears, "but the Hat was adamant about Ravenclaw." I wanted to tell her that the same type of thing happened to me, but I couldn't. I knew that, even though she was my best friend, she wouldn't understand--nor would Hugo, for that matter. To them, Slytherins were and always would be evil, so how could I tell them that I wanted to actually be a Slytherin?
I entered my dormitory later that night assumed I'd like my new roommates, of which I had two. Rarely before my entrance to Hogwarts had I ever disliked someone--excepting, of course, of my cousins Priscilla, Andrew, and, on occasion, Fred--so the fact that, within five minutes of meeting Abigail Chambers and Melinda Fudge, I already hated them shocked me.
I had barely entered the room when Abigail asked, "You're Lily Potter, right?" And then, before I had a chance to respond, "Aren't you the girl that vomited?"
"That's so gross!" squealed Melinda. "You must be so embarrassed."
I opened my mouth to reply, but Abigail cut me off to say, "Of course she's embarrassed. I mean, what a horrible first impression. 'Vomit girl.' There can't be anything worse than that."
"You're so right. It--"
"I'm tired," I loudly interrupted, forcing my face into a stiff smile. "So, if you'll excuse me."
"Oh," said Abigail, taken aback, "of course." She turned to Melinda and whispered, loudly enough for me to hear, "It's probably for the best. We'll look bad by association if we're friends with 'vomit girl.'"
It took all of my self-control not to punch them both right then and there. I remember thinking to myself that this would be a long seven years. I lost no time in voicing that opinion to Rose the next morning, to which she gave me a sympathetic smile. She offered to let me sleep in her dormitory, but I suspected her roommates wouldn't be pleased with that arrangement so I declined. "I'll just suffer it out," I told her, "or die trying."
"So melodramatic," she chided me, but she was smiling as she did so. "But I'm proud of your endurance, Lily. It's admirable."
James, during those first few weeks of school, took extra care to make sure Hugo and I--though I suspected that he wasn't thinking of Hugo when he did it--found our way to our classes on time. When I mentioned that I didn't want him to be late to his own classes, he said, "Don't worry about it, Lils; I'm in trouble so often it doesn't even matter. But, it's my duty as your big brother to make sure that you don't get into trouble." A few of James' friends seemed surprised by this, but I couldn't imagine why; James had always taken care of me like this. I had never realized that he wasn't so thoughtful where other people were concerned.
My days quickly became so full to the brim that I put my plan to get to know the Slytherins on hold--though, I told myself, I wouldn't give it up. I rarely had any peace from classes and homework, but the little free time I did have was spent chatting with Céline and Hugo in the library or on the grounds. I didn't have enough time to do anything else.
Charms with Professor Hopkins quickly became my favorite class, if only because I had a natural talent for it. I wasn't into studying or doing homework--I always did it, but I did it grudgingly at best--as Céline was, so any class that I had to work less at to understand was fine by me. I suppose the fact that my wand--nine and a half inches, made of beech with a unicorn hair core, flexible--(according to Ollivander's) specialized in Charms also helped.
Transfiguration, on the other hand, proved to be my weakness. James couldn't understand why--Transfiguration was his best subject--but Al shared my pain; his best subject was Defense Against the Dark Arts, which I also had some talent at--well, as long as I was mad, because my magical potential had the tendency to skyrocket with my temper.
I suspect, as unfair as it probably is, that Professor Longbottom was too nice when he graded me in Herbology. I was never a bad student in his class, but I certainly wasn't an "E" student. Most classes I only half-listened to his lectures while I doodled plants along the margins of my parchment and schoolbooks.
The only class I really worried about failing, however, was History of Magic. I don't know what I would've done without Céline--Gryffindors had that class with Ravenclaws--because I, no matter how hard, just couldn't pay attention. Thankfully, however, she let me--and Hugo--copy her notes after every class.
Towards the end of October, I finally got my chance to talk to a Slytherin. Hagrid was letting each of the Houses carve a giant pumpkin to display in the Great Hall, and I was running late--I'd been drawing in my dormitory, so I hadn't noticed when the entire House left Gryffindor Tower--and, apparently, so was Scorpius Malfoy. Fate, it seemed, was urging me on.
I was, I remember, a bit unsure at first about trying to get to know a Malfoy, of all the possible Slytherins to talk to, but I figured, if I was destined to be a brave Gryffindor and not a sly Slytherin, at least I'd live up to that destiny.
"Hello," I cheerfully called out, plastering a big smile on my face. Scorpius stopped in his tracks, looked at the Gryffindor badge on my school robes, and regarded at me as if I were unhinged. "My name's Lily Potter."
"How nice for you." He started to move again, his hand buried in the pocket of his robe, no doubt fingering his wand. I thought he was a bit of an idiot to be so hostile because, really, how could a first year like myself--one who'd only ever performed spells as harmless as levitation--ever overpower a third year?
"And you're Scorpius Malfoy, right?" I received no reply, so, desperate for something to discuss, I called out, "I'm sorry about your name." I winced right after it came out because that seemed to be exactly the type of thing my dreaded roommates would say. But, really, I hadn't meant to be rude, and my idiocy did, at least, get him to stop.
"Excuse me?" he asked, his gray eyes narrowing. "Got a problem with my name?"
"Of course not! My brother's name is Albus Severus, which is just as bad. I was just--"
"Because," he continued as if I hadn't spoken, "if you have a problem with it, take it up with my father, not me. It's not as if I chose my own name."
"I know you didn't," I quickly assured him. "I just said the first thing that came to my mind, I didn't think--"
"Clearly," he said, walking away yet again. "Because, if you had been thinking, Potter, you would've realized that I don't have any desire to talk to you. Especially not if you're going to insult me the entire time."
I wished, at that point, that the ground would open up beneath me and swallow me whole. Could I have been any meaner if I tried? To make it up to him, I made yet another promise to myself; I'd go out of my way to prove to him that I wasn't as uncivil as I had appeared in that moment. I'd show him that I wasn't the type of person to start a conversation with him with the intention of insulting him.
I'm not sure how long I stood in that hallway before I remembered the pumpkin-carving festivities, but it was long enough that, by the time I arrived in the Great Hall, the carving process was almost finished. I had barely entered before an arm reached out and grabbed me, and I was spun around to face Alice Longbottom.
"Hey," she greeted me, smiling widely, "I've been looking everywhere for you."
"For me?" I asked, slightly confused. What could she possibly want from me? Did she want to reinstate our quasi-friendship? The latter I found unlikely because, honestly, what fourth year goes out of her way to friend a first year?
"Yes, you! I wanted to talk to you about, er--" a crimson blush spread across her already pink face--"James, actually."
"Is he okay?" I asked, slightly alarmed.
"Oh, he's fine, just fine," she assured me, and I let out a sigh of relief. "It's just, remember our letters last year?" I nodded. "Remember how I asked you once if he was dating someone, and you said the idea was laughable?" Again I nodded. "Well, is the idea still laughable? Because he seemed awfully cozy with Cassandra Meadowes during break today." She looked distraught at the very idea, yet also somehow hopeful, as if I could alleviate all her fears.
And suddenly I understood why Alice had gone out of her way to talk to me not only now, but last year, too. She fancied James. I felt like a bit of an idiot for not realizing this sooner; it seemed so obvious. "Oh, er, I don't really know. But," I added, seeing her face fall, "I hope not."
That seemed to cheer her up somewhat, and it was truthful. I didn't want James to date anyone--it meant that he was growing up, that things were irrevocably changing in our family--but I'd rather he dated, if he had to, someone like Alice, whom I knew, than a Cassandra Meadowes, whom I just an hour earlier had no idea even existed. "Me too," Alice confessed in a sad whisper before heading back to her fellow Hufflepuffs.
Seconds later I heard Céline ask, "What was that about?"
"Love issues," I answered, turning around.
"Poor girl," she said, and I nodded in agreement. After a pause, "It's a bit odd that she came to you, though, isn't it? Not that you don't give great advice," she quickly assured me when she saw my pointed glare, "because of course you do, but she's a fourth year and you're a first year. Shouldn't the roles be reversed?"
"She fancies James," I explained, but I immediately regretted it. What if Alice didn't want me to tell anyone?
"James?" Céline repeated disbelievingly. "As in, my cousin and your brother James?"
"Yep."
"Why?" she asked, positively gaping. "What could she possibly see in him?"
"He's not that bad, you know," I said defensively because no one, not even Céline, was allowed to insult my brother in my presence.
"Not with you," she agreed. "He's an absolute angel with you. But, with everyone else, he's a nightmare. How could someone as pretty, nice, and…" she paused, searching for the right word, before she finished, "responsible as Alice fall for one of the Gryffindor slackers?"
"Well, he's smart, too. He never gets below an 'E' grade in any class--except for History of Magic, of course, but who, besides you and Rose, could pass that class?" Scorpius Malfoy, I immediately answered myself, because wasn't he beating Rose in nearly every class?
Céline shook her head. "That's all very nice, Lily, but he's still a slacker. And an annoying prankster, too. He and Fred've had seven detentions this month alone for turning someone's skin purple or making someone break out in hives. Neither is exactly the type of boy that a normal girl fancies."
"Fred has a girlfriend," I pointed out, and Céline laughed.
"Yeah, well, let's see how long that relationship lasts," she said, and I grinned. "Now, go to your Gryffindor friends because Hugo's hand is about to fall off, I swear, from all that gesturing" before I could.
I asked Al about James and Cassandra later that night, but he seemed as clueless as I was. It was a nice excuse to talk to Al, though, because I hadn't had much of an opportunity to do so lately. I was able to vent out a lot of my fears and worries; I even confessed how I had asked the Sorting Hat put me into Slytherin. He, to my very great surprise, told me how the Sorting Hat had been about to put him into Slytherin until he asked it not to. We both laughed at the irony, and I hope he came away feeling as cleansed as I did. It was nice to get that secret of mine off my chest, and, as for the James matter, Al had cheered me up by promising never to date a girl without first receiving my permission.
Nothing too eventful happened during the next few weeks. James continued to date Cassandra--though, having no doubt been notified by Al, he tactfully asked for my approval before officially asking her out. I met her once or twice during this time, but I no longer can remember exactly what we discussed; I only remember those meetings being quite awkward.
I also sought Alice out during this time period to offer her my encouragement because I felt miserable for her. She obviously liked James very much, and it saddened me to think that she'd spent over half a year developing a close owl correspondence with me to no avail; I didn't want that effort to be a complete waste, and a friendship--a real friendship--between us seemed the only way to ensure it had some use. Most fourth year girls, I'm sure, would've scorned the idea of being friends with a first year, but Alice, being as kind-hearted as her father, embraced me with open arms--in the metaphorical sense, of course.
James got Hugo into detention during the second weekend in November, which caused a lot of problems for me, torn as I was between an irate best friend and a unrepentant brother. He had put some fireworks in Hugo's school bag that with slow-burning wicks so that, in the middle of Tranfiguration, they suddenly exploded with a huge bang. Professor Burroughs refused to believe that Hugo was innocent and sentenced him to clean the classroom that night without magic, no matter how long it took--a whooping six hours and thirty-minutes.
Also concerning James, I had my first experience watching him play for the Gryffindor quidditch team. My memory might be overexaggerating James' skill, but I thought he played spectacularly; he clearly was Mummy's son. No one, not even the seventh-year Chaser on the team, outscored him. Gryffindor defeated Slytherin easily, two hundred and seventy points to ninety. Best of all, Savannah was definitely not at her prime during the match, and while that sounds horrible, I couldn't help my vindictive pleasure; maybe I wouldn't have such a hard time becoming Keeper after all.
The game proved to be great fodder for my drawings. I drew a couple of sketches of James scoring a goal, one of Gryffindor's Seeker, Edmund Westerly, catching the snitch, and one, particularly well-done, of Savannah missing a quaffle (though I threw my hard work into the Common Room's fire once I had finished it because I felt guilty for drawing it in the first place). Abigail nosily asked me a few times what I was doing, but I lied and said it was a sketch Professor Longbottom wanted of some plant in Herbology, so she dropped the subject--she hated schoolwork even more than I did. In fact, compared to her, I looked like downright studious.
I finally, about a week after Gryffindor won the quidditch match, talked to Scorpius outside of the Hospital Wing (Hugo had been practicing a spell to transform an bottle cap into a button and missed his target, hitting his sister instead and somehow transforming her hair into yarn) where I'd been headed to visit Rose. His friend Chase Zabini, Slytherin's Seeker, had gotten a concussion during an intense quidditch practice--the Slytherin Quidditch Captain, a Beater, was displeased with the team's performance the previous week and had decided to vent out his anger on his Seeker--I later learned, which led Scorpius there in the first place.
"Hey," I greeted him slowly, afraid that my mouth would make a fool of me again.
"You again?" was the only reply I received.
"Yes, me," I said awkwardly. "So, er, how have you been doing?"
"Fine." He paused, then smirkingly asked, "And you? Vomited lately?"
I winced at that because, Merlin, no one had mentioned that little incident since the second week of school. "No," I answered, forcing my tone to remain friendly, even though I was dying to yell at him. "I'm glad to say that I haven't. You see, I had eaten three galleons worth of Cauldron Cakes that day, and then Hugo mentioned cheese, which is always guaranteed to make me queasy--"
"Do I look like I care?" he interrupted, rolling his eyes.
I waited a few seconds to respond, but when I did, I had to smile. "Yes. You look thrilled, in fact. So, as I was saying, cheese has always disgusted me. Both of my brothers are crazy about it--James sometimes even eats it plain--but, and I don't know why, there's something about cheese that I just can't stand. The smell, the taste, it's all so…" I trailed off and shuddered.
Meanwhile, Scorpius had been looking at me as if I were crazy, which I chose to purposely misconstrue. "I can tell you're a fan of it, so please don't hold my disgust against me. After all, as a wise boy once told me, I can hardly help how my taste buds react to cheese."
"You completely missed my point."
"Yes, well, I might be paraphrasing." I waved my hand impatiently. "But, even though I hate cheese, I absolutely adore potatoes. Especially mashed potatoes. Do you like mashed potatoes?" And then, without waiting for a response, "I doubt it. You don't seem like the mashed potato type. You seem like the cheese type. Not that they're mutually exclusive, of course, because I know Hugo loves both--but he loves everything, so that--"
"Do you ever stop talking?" Scorpius interrupted me, practically gaping.
"Sometimes. Only, when I'm nervous and I can't think of what to say, like now, I tend to ramble."
"If you're nervous, then why bother talking to me?" he asked. "I certainly don't want to talk to you."
"Because the most uncomfortable things in life are usually the most rewarding," I told him, and his jaw literally dropped.
He eventually closed his mouth, then opened it to say something, then closed it, and finally opened it again. "What is wrong with you?" he asked me disbelievingly. "You've got to be the weirdest person I've ever met."
I laughed at that. He had no idea just how weird I was. "I'll take that as a compliment," I told him, grinning. He shook his head a few times as if he were unsure what to make of me before he walked uncertainly away, looking over his shoulder at me every few seconds. This only made me laugh harder, and I fear I sounded a bit mental. At least, that's what Hugo told me when he came out of the Hospital Wing to see what all the commotion was about (Scorpius had disappeared from sight by that point). I told him I was just excited about the snow, for a sheet of white had just settled over the Castle the previous night.
Along with more snow, December brought more excitement for me than November, if only because I was so excited for Christmas. I loved the decorations springing up around the castle and the carols being sung by all--especially by me, despite the fact that Hugo informed me at least twice a day that my voice sounding like "the gurgling of a dying cat."
Leo, who'd been surprisingly well-behaved during first term--except for one incident when he scratched up Melinda for trying to pet him with gaining his approval first--flipped out once December began. People had started their packing for holidays back home as early as the first week of December, and all the commotion and confusion set him on edge. In the first two weeks alone I had nine students and one teacher--an irate Professor Sinistra--complain to me that he'd bitten, scratched, hissed at, etc. them. He even growled at Hugo once, which absolutely shocked me, for he'd always seemed to like Hugo.
Hugo got really paranoid after that; he was sure Leo was out to get him. I told him to cut it out--Leo might've been temperamental, but he was my temperamental cat and I adored him--but he wouldn't listen. In fact, he spent an entire week avoiding even me because Leo, in his anxiety, had taken to following me around. He didn't want to make it easy for my crazy cat to find him, he later told me, once he had calmed down a bit.
Leo was there when, a day before the holidays started, I once again talked to Scorpius Malfoy. Shockingly enough, Leo didn't seem to mind Scorpius, but maybe that was because our conversation lasted less than thirty seconds.
I was heading towards the library to meet Céline and happened to pass by him. I was going to say something to him, but he seemed to be in a rush, so I didn't want to distract him. To my very great surprise, however, he slowed down as he approached me and said, with no greeting at all, "I'm not a cheese person. I like it well enough, I suppose, but not enough to be offended if someone else dislikes it. Potatoes don't bother me, either; it's pickles that I avoid like the plague."
"I don't like pickles either," I told him, smiling.
"Good to hear," he said, passing me by. I could've sworn, though, in those few seconds before he his face disappeared from my view, the ghost of a smile formed on his face. His gray eyes seemed less cold, at least, and more amused. This knowledge made me smile even wider; I had just had my first pleasant conversation with a Slytherin.
"See," I said to myself, proud of achievement, "there is some good in them." I just hoped that all my progress wasn't lost over the holidays.
"Good in who?" a voice behind me asked, and I turned around to see Rose standing there, eyeing me suspiciously.
"No one," I quickly answered. I couldn't imagine what my family'd do if they found out I'd even attempted to associate with Slytherins; probably refuse to let me return to Hogwarts after the holidays ended, or something to that effect. James, in particular, would flip out; I could already imagine him saying, "Merlin, Lily, you talked to Slytherin alone? And a Malfoy at that? What if he had hurt you?"
"Uh huh," Rose murmured skeptically, and I could tell by the look in her eye that she wouldn't leave me alone until she found out the truth. This holiday, I knew, was going to be far too long and stressful.
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A/N: LiMQ--Thank you! I was going to put her in Slytherin (because Harry never thought he had worry about his daughter, did he? ;) ) but, for the sake of this story, I wanted her to have the option of fitting in when she "dares to be different"; it'll take more courage for her to stand out when she's capable of blending in. She's already very unlike her family, though, even if she's in the same House; she views the world in a different way than many of them do because none of them was ever--in this story, at least--affected by a Mary Collins when young. Still, I think I'll end up writing a story with Lily in Slytherin once this is finished because it's such a fascinating idea.
xEmmax--Thanks! I'm glad you liked it!
100-percent-Harry-Potter-obsessed--Thanks! Rose won't be with Scorpius (Rose, the way I imagine her in this story, wouldn't mesh well with him at all; her bravery isn't the sort that would draw the hermit Scorpius out of his shell. Her bravery works in the way that she can face an challenge or obstacle without allowing fear to overcome her; she can face even her worst fears with a calm demeanor and logical thoughts--sounds so much like I'm describing superpowers or something, doesn't it? Haha), but maybe Scorpius will end up with another red-haired Weasley girl. ;) I'm not sure why I chose drawing for Lily--I know next to nothing about it, except what I learned years and years ago in elementary school art class (which isn't much)--but it was the very first hobby that I connected to her. It's almost as if she chose drawing herself.
Ramzes--Thank you! I hope you like this chapter, too!
Jessiquie--Thanks! I was going for a different angle on Lily in this story. I've seen her portrayed a lot as an overly-cheerful girl who's incapable of any other emotion, so I wanted her to give her more depth, make her capable of feeling worry and sorrow and keeping secrets. And it put such a smile on my face to know that, even though you don't usually like second gen fanfics, you like this story, so thanks again!
