MY LIFE IN A NUTSHELL
NARRATOR: Ms. Lily Evans
SUMMARY: It's the start of 7th year and things are beginning to spiral out of Lily's control. Follow her day-to-day adventures in this multi-chaptered fic about love, hate, and the many aspects of a 17-year-old witch's life.
RATING: T, for language, some visual imagery, and attempted humor.
Disclaimer: H-A-R-R-Y-P-O-T-T-E-R. What does that spell? J..
Enjoy this chapter, readers. I worked fairly hard on it because it's the beginning of several exciting things. Review, as always.
Bon appetit!
Shuddering out of a nightmarish hell, I came to, a pair of hazel eyes looming over my head.
It took me a minute to comprehend where I was, and why I was looking into two beautiful earthen-colored irises. Still a little out of it, I reached up and stroked the face in front of me, running pale fingers over the finely carved features, sculpted cheekbones, and gently caressing a pair of perfectly formed lips.
"Er...Lily?"
"GAH!"
He jumped nearly a foot in the air and I dove underneath my covers, my face flushing bright red. Why had I done that? Why had I listened to my stupid, stupid impulses? I felt like taking an anvil and dropping it from the ceilings above, directly to where I stood. Thinking about this, a little delusional still, I imagined the anvil dropping over and over, flattening me like a cartoon and then floating back up while I straightened out my comically flattened body.
"Er, Lily?"
I peeked out from behind my covers. I probably looked ridiculous, a pair of bright green eyes and a tomato red forehead protruding from billows and waves of white puffy sheets.
"Erm...yes?" My voice was hesitant, and the sound waves probably were absorbed by the feathery cushions surrounding my face. Luckily, though, James heard what I said.
Instead of acting like his usual suave self, he opened his mouth and closed it several times, giving me the image of a gaping fish (albeit, a good-looking one). (Wait, can fish be good-looking?).
Flushing bright red, he chose to mumble, "I'll wait for you outside," and stumbled his way out of the door.
Taking a moment to right the world so everything wasn't so topsy-turvy, I carefully hoisted myself out of bed, blinking when my vision blurred and blackened for a moment. Shaking my head as if to shake water out of my ears, I seemingly floated around the room, thoughts flashing through my head. Hazel eyes, defined cheekbones. Lightning and fallen turrets.
It was all too much to handle at once. Flinging myself out the door without exactly knowing what I was doing, I collapsed into a surprised James' arms and fainted.
It was only fifteen minutes later when I came to, James watching me nervously from the chair beside the fire. I noticed I was sprawled across the couch.
"I broke the faint pact," I said quietly.
He chuckled slightly, but there was a nervous edge to it. I could tell he was worried about my mental and physical state. I couldn't help but agree that the worrying was totally appropriate. I wasn't so confident about my current condition, either.
"Care to tell me why you fainted?" he inquired, his voice just as soft as mine had been.
"Maybe later," I said, stretching, staring into the flickering embers of the Head fire place.
"7th year is busy. There will be no later. Tell me now. I swear, Lily, I'm a very persistent person," he said. He arched an eyebrow and I sighed.
"I, of all people, should know that," I responded. "Remember the day I met you? I think you've been talking to me ever since, even if I jinxed you and ran away." I decided that I could trust James. He wouldn't tell
"Do you think-" I started off, but then a faint buzzing noise sounded against the window. Oddly enough, a snitch was hovering outside the window, tapping repeatedly at the glass panes.
"Sorry," James said. He eyed the odd little object for a moment before swinging the window open. There was a very faint creak as the rusted hinges gave way.
"James," I asked nervously. "Can snitches be jinxed?"
"Anything can be jinxed," James said gravely, watching the clearly charmed snitch zero in on the two of us. Suddenly, the snitch attacked me with an unexpected force, entangling itself in my morning hair. James rushed to help me, but I had managed to get the snitch out and clamped in my fist.
"Bugger," I said, as the snitch opened.
There, clearly inscribed in loopy, girlish cursive was several warning words.
You better watch out, Evans. If it's a competition, I'm going to win.
I had little doubt on who wrote the note. Furious, I tore the paper to bits, and left a bewildered James, taking long strides toward the direction of my dormitory.
Eva Kimble really needed to be taught a lesson.
I was all settled down, not a hair astray and my collar folded perfectly. I prudishly held my skirt as I sat down and wolfed down several mini waffles before looking up at James, who had taken the seat across from me. He was staring at me with an amused, if not slightly skeptical, gaze and I didn't know how to react.
I decided to ask the question that was nagging at my mind.
"Please, tell me why you were in my room last night," I snipped to James, who had been indulging himself on an early morning feast.
An echoing wolf whistle rang in my ears as Sirius Black took the seat next to James, making sly, innuendo-laced glances. "Getting it on last night, were you two? Wish I had been there to witness it!"
Thoroughly disturbed, I gagged. James actually turned tomato red and muttered, "Well, if you had been there, you just would've heard a lot of screaming."
There was utter silence in our portion of the table.
James broke the silence with a shocked, "Wow, thatcame out wrong."
Sirius cheered and clapped James on the back, causing him to double forward and nearly spill his morning pumpkin juice.
"Oh, you dirty-minded dog, he didn't mean it like that," I said sourly, swishing the leftover syrup around my plate.
Sirius waggled his eyebrows and James rolled his eyes. They were quite a sight.
Alice and Marlene came over, glanced at them, shrugged in unison, and sat down next to me. Miranda was nowhere to be found.
"Lily was screaming last night in her sleep," James was trying to explain to a smirking Sirius. His face was still slightly red, but he seemed to be recovering from his embarrassment.
"I was?" I asked, confused. I recalled my horrifying dream, and the series of images that had followed. Keeping back a shudder, I retained my blank expression.
"Yeah. You had a night terror or something, I heard you all the way across the hall. I came in and you were writhing around in your sheets and I couldn't wake you up, so I waited for the screaming to stop. You were quiet in a matter of minutes."
I remembered dreaming of him last night, too.
"Did...I ever wake up during that time?"
"Well, you opened your eyes after you calmed down. But a couple hours later the screaming started again. What happened?"
"Nothing," I responded a little too quickly. The joking manner surrounding our group of people had dissipated and been replaced with a gloomy, mysterious atmosphere. I didn't know what to make of my nighttime torture, but those hazel eyes that I had visualized had been so calming.
I couldn't quite place the feelings churning about in me, but I knew that if somebody had to be by my side during those nightmares, I'm pretty okay that it was James.
How strangely these feelings descend upon us, creeping into the corners of our minds, lining the edges of our hearts. I didn't know whatwas up with my emotions. However, I was positive that I was still too shaken, too confused, and definitely too delirious to process anything properly at the moment.
It being a Saturday, I had no other occupations as of now, and was lazing about the Gryffindor common room with Alice and Marlene. Marlene was painting her fingernails, charming each one as she went to make them spontaneously flicker and sparkle. When I gave her my opinion of them ("overly flashy"), she had stalked off into the corner, reached for her beauty spells book, and started figuring out the counter charm to remove them.
Alice and I were deep in discussion.
"I came up with an excellent idea for the club," I said excitedly.
"I'm happy to see you've made progress on the thought," Alice replied, sounding genuinely delighted. "What do you have in mind?"
I unfolded today's Daily Prophet to show her the alarming black and white headline: Mass Murder at Rowena's Glade: 18 Killed, Death Eaters Suspected.What followed was a fuzzy picture of homes and smoke, all foundations rubble. Fires still raged in corners of the photograph.
Alice shivered and her eyes clouded a bit; I had a feeling she would react this way.
"So?" she said, her throat closed-up.
"So, I was thinking we could form an anti-Death Eater organization," I whispered to her, anxious in my anticipation. I tried to gauge her reaction as I went on. "Because you knowthat Slytherins are probably already conspiring with You-Know-Who. And it's not like we're going to be going out and fighting those battles ourselves - it's just an idea, a support for the bright side."
Alice still looked wary of the idea. "Give me time to consider it, Lily. I don't think initiating a 'You-Know-Who Rebellion' club sounds like the sorta thing I had in mind. Why are you so aggressive? Why couldn't have it been, I don't know, gobstones, or something? Perhaps a friendly little pen pal group?"
"You're a wuss," I stated matter-of-factly. Alice raised her eyebrows.
"You're upset that I don't agree with you."
"Slightly," I admitted.
"Lily, the idea's wonderful, and it's noble and brave and all- but isn't it a bit, well, risky?"
I looked Alice tiredly in the eye. "Isn't everything we ever do risky?"
"Was that supposed to mean something?" Alice said blankly.
"Well, I was hoping you'd think I was deep and knowledgeable, and therefore would listen to my fabulous wit."
However, before she could respond, a 6th year boy had stumbled on the coffee table in front of us and had landed not-so-gracefully on the couch I was on. Quite surprised and blushing a bit, he straightened up and said, "Well! If you'll excuse me, lovely ladies, I have some important matters to address."
Alice and I stared off as the boy marched off toward the portrait hole, his face flaming in embarrassment.
"Ahh, Andrews. What a klutz," a voice spoke up from behind me. James's face was level with mine, since he was bending over the couch. Catapulting himself over the back of the couch and using it as a springboard, he landed next to me.
"Hello, James," I said stiffly, attempting to hide the Daily Prophet underneath a throw pillow. However, too late, James swiped the newsprint away from me. He examined the cover.
"Why would you ever keep this stored away underneath a pillow?" he asked, his brow furrowed in concern.
"Lily was considering it for a defense topic," Alice sighed without looking away from the fire. I passed her a furious glance; the Marauders were not supposed to know about this! Nobody else was supposed to even suspect it!
"Defense topic?" James asked, too curious.
I gave up and explained the anti-Voldemort support ideas I had. To my surprise, James actually took in what I was saying and gave it thoughtful consideration. He had a bold, strong look on his face as we discussed the matter. I had a feeling that this really was important to him.
"I like the idea," he said finally. "I think we should start as soon as possible."
I sent Alice a triumphant look. She ignored me.
"Alice doesn't agree," I pitched in.
"Prewett, c'mon," James wheedled. "You know it's for a good cause."
"We're only seventeen," she sighed. "We're still at Hogwarts. If we're going to begin this, right now, right here, then there has to be a directly related sign that will convince me that what we're going to do makes total sense."
"And I thought you were the logical thinker," James said, glancing at me. I shook my head fervently.
"I'll leave you two here, discussing your lovely death subjects," Alice said off-handedly. She stood up and joined Marlene, who was still working on her toes.
"Did you actually read this?" James asked quietly.
I nodded, feeling my head spin a little as I watched the burning flames flicker in both the newspaper picture and the fire in front of us.
Then something odd happened.
I felt a warmth move over my hand that was relaxing on the couch cushion; a rough warmth, encasing and enveloping, causing tingles to rush up and down my arm. In wonder, I stared at James's hand atop mine; tan skin covering pale, small fingers.
It was a little too much to handle. The feeling at my fingertips as his calloused hands entwined with mine, the strength and support that I could feel emanating from him, and his gaze, a gaze that was surely trained on me at the moment, anticipating my reaction with anxious, excited nerve. I avoided his stare and colored a little, and I could hear his low chuckle beside me.
"You're a right idiot," I muttered quietly.
"Yet, you still haven't killed me yet."
"Don't tempt me, Mr. Idiot. There's a strong possibility that I will, soon."
"I'll keep that in mind," James replied, his gentle hold on my hand tightening. I sighed.
Dinner had just ended, and I was walking back up to the tower with Marlene and Alice. I could see Miranda's figure ahead of us; she seemed almost shadow-like, and was very much alone. Every now and then she would glance back, her gaze holding surging remorse.
"I'll catch you guys later," I called to Marlene and Alice. "I need to return something."
I turned around and walked toward the hall where I had found the locket last night. Retracing my steps until I found the portrait of Og the Odd, I recalled that the locket had been near the Slytherin's common room. Shuddering in disgust, I walked in that direction, then tripped over a body that was crawling around on the floor, frantically searching for something.
"Sorry," I muttered, standing up and holding an arm out to the person on the ground.
He didn't accept my hand, and struggled to upright himself using the wall behind him. He was particularly scrawny with floppy black hair and familiar grey eyes. His features were refined and almost attractive, if not for the peaky look to his pale skin.
Regulus Black.
"That's mine," he said gruffly after a few seconds of silence.
Bewildered for a moment, I then realized that he was talking about the locket that was swinging from my wrist.
"Oh, really? I found it last night in this hall. Perhaps, it's what you were looking for just a few moments ago?" I inquired.
He gave me an odd, skeptical glance. "Please, give it backto me."
Feeling a little skeptical myself, I pressed on in order to determine whether or not the locket was his (he didn't seem the type for fine jewelry). "Do you have evidence that this locket is yours?"
He sighed, frustrated. A pucker appeared between his eyebrows. "Hand it back. Either that, or I'll have to take it out of your filthy hands before you contaminate it, Mudblood."
My vision turned red for a moment, and then I calmed. Picking up an icy tone, I responded, "I think I like your brother better."
Which really wasn't a compliment, because I thoroughly despised Sirius.
Though, right now, standing in the hallway with Regulus, I could see why Sirius was so spontaneously bitter when family matters came up; Regulus' eyes held a dark, hungry look, mixing with an odd element of something I couldn't quite recognize. Falsity? Hate veiled all other emotions. I knew Regulus' friends, if that's what he could call them. They skulked in shadows, formulating vicious plots and downgrading innocents. Right now, I was pretty convinced that next to his brother, Sirius was a saint.
Regulus rolled his eyes. "Oh, who cares about that blood traitor? Besmirching the family name, that's what Mum always says."
I got the drift that Regulus was talking to himself, but I couldn't help but let a tiny hiccup-giggle escape from my lips. Besmirched, I sniggered in my mind. What a funny word.
"Are you laughing?" cried Regulus, astonished.
"Besmirched," I giggled, muffling my nonsense with my hand. It seemed that I had a very extreme case of those always-awkward but never-ending church giggles.
Regulus rolled his eyes, but I swore I saw a glint of humor in them.
"You uncouth muggle-born Mudblood," he declared as he walked away.
"You're being redundant," I called to his retreating back.
After my unusual laughter subsided, I sat down and thought for a moment. Why did Regulus have a locket?
I think that it was about time that I consulted my "favorite" Black brother.
A/N:
I'm happy with this chapter, and like the author I'm supposed to be, have formulated something similar to a weak plot in my mind. Pride fills my being :)
I'm not going to be updating for another three weeks, maybe four :( Blame camp and vacation. However, as soon as I'm free, I'll attempt to whip something up just to satisfy appetites (however, I truly apologize if it ends up being horrible).
Review, as always, and have a great summer!
-.x.