Omg, hey guys! We're getting closer to the end, so remember, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE, if you find my stories even remotely good, make a girl happy and review! 118 reviews just for me? I'M SO HAPPY!

Voldemort: NO! HAPPINESS SHALL NOT PASS ME! DIE DIE DIE!

Dalek: Exterminate! Exterminate!

Hey, hey, HEY! This isn't a doctor who story, go away dalek! Okay, Voldemort has to go too.

Dalek and Voldemort: Awwwwww….*leave*

Anyways, after that EVENT you should not pay ANNNNY attention to…please guys, I'm begging. ON MY KNEES.

Literally. I'm going to stop typing and-I'm typing this on my knees. Begging. For. Just a few more reviews. 125. 7 more reviews.

I don't own ;)

"You're a ghost."

I gasped and lurched forward, almost falling. Jumping to my feet, I pressed myself against the pole-wall-whatever supporting the Astronomy Tower roof. "Bloody hell!"

She looked dead, but I couldn't see any injuries. Her eyes looked like they used to burn with fierceness and beauty, but now…the spark was still there, but they had dulled.

"You're a ghost." I realized.

She nodded. "Yes, I am."

"A Hogwarts ghost?" I guessed.

She laughed, a tinkling sound that made me relax a little. "No! That would be great, though, wouldn't it?"

"But you can't eat anything," I replied. "That's not good."

"No," she agreed. "I do miss the feasts, the butterbeers. My husband used to have one every other day." She laughed again.

"Why are you here?"

She nodded. "Oh, that. I come here to visit Harry whenever I can. It takes a lot of my energy; ghosts stay where they were murdered."

"Murdered?" my eyes widened.

"Yes. You only become a ghost when you are murdered-no, you become a ghost when you die in sickness, or accidents, or anything besides old aged death." The woman brushed her hair back.

Okay. I was having a conversation with a murdered ghost…yolo? Strange, this wasn't exactly on my bucket list…

"So…how's your husband?" What do you ask a ghost? How's life?

She snorted. "Mourning over his loss of food." At my laugh, she softened. "No, though. That's not all. Sometimes…well, all the time, I miss my being alive."

I watched her, my eyes raking over her once to take it all in. And no, I was not checking her out. Not like that. Gosh; you people have twisted minds.

She was wearing a sweater, colored red, maroon-ish, and orange. Her pants were worn down sweats, rumpled. She was sort of transparent…and her hair…the most familiar shade…her face, too…her personality…everything reminded me of…

Of Harry.

The woman brushed her hair back again, since the rebellious curls kept drifting down her face. She sighed. "And I thought these small problems ended after life."

I smiled easily. "I'm literally feeding you waves of sympathy right now. My hair is crazy frizzy, especially in humid weather. You should meet my friend Hermione Granger; we can have a pity party."

The tinkling laugh came again, and the woman started fading. She groaned. "Good bye, Cecelia Snape." At my name, she smiled and turned away. I wondered why.

"Er-bye-wait! I never did catch your name…though you caught mine…" I called, her face growing less solid.

She turned her head, her magnificent red curls lighting up her emerald green eyes, and it hit me. "Oh. My name is Lily Potter."

HHHHHHHPPPPPPPPPOOOOOOOOO

Once class started again, it was very odd. I had to ignore the sad gut feeling whenever a professor jerked his or her head at me to call on me, and said, "Miss Ce-Charleston?"

Nobody gave me funny looks anymore, either. No bob of head: "Snape." Or: "Hey, look, it's Snape girl-sh, she's coming…"

Theo, the trio, and the twins were extremely confused, but I wouldn't say a thing. I asked them not to say anything, and that I'd explain, soon, someday.

Walking in the hallways suddenly became a huge nightmare. I guess the trio finally snapped.

"Lunch," I noted dully, glancing quietly at my schedule. A passing Pansy sneered at me, and a couple of older Slytherins shoved me. I dropped my books, and instantly, Hermione dropped down to pick them up for me.

"Move it, mudblood!" I dodged a cuff and muttered a "thanks" to Hermione, who, in shock, dropped my book into my hand particularily hard.

Hermione grabbed my hand and dragged me off, Harry and Ron following furiously. I ducked past a Ravenclaw I nearly collided into, straightened my green collar, and followed unwillingly. One look and I knew we were running for the library.

The library was quiet and almost empty, and Hermione grabbed me towards a dark corner.

"Okay, talk." She demanded, brown frizz plopping up and down.

I blinked. "Um…what?"

"There's something really wrong, and I can't wait any longer." Harry said. "You're being called Charleston, you wait until curfew to slip off to Snape's-which everyone is suddenly agreeing that it's because you're sick and you're going to the Infirmary, and then the Slytherins are calling you…Mudblood. Which means muggleborn. But you're not. Snape's a wizard, if not a greasy g-sorry."

Ron nodded, though his face expressed obvious half-concern and half-i-need-food. "Fred and George say you haven't played a prank on anyone for a week now; that's a new record."

I made a distressed noise. "Guys, I promise I'll explain. Please, please, be patient. Please." No way-my eyes were pooling with tears, and I forced them down. Thankfully the large tear sucked itself in, on the tip of my eyelash.

The trio exchanged looks. By now I could read them pretty clearly; it was like having a silent conversation. By Hermione's look, she wanted answers now, and RIGHT NOW. By Harry's look, he thought they should wait, since it was my story to tell. And by Ron's look, he just wanted food.

"Okay," Hermione sighed, throwing up her hands. The librarian let out a loud shushing noise. "But you have to promise you'll explain soon."

"Soon," I nodded fervently. "When everyone that still knows me as a Snape is here, I'll explain."

Ron nodded urgently. "Okay, okay, okay…let's go…I'm starving…"

Hermione rolled her eyes and picked up her bag. "Let's go."

I straightened. "Yeah, or ickle Ronnikins will starve."

Ron's head snapped up. "Where did you hear that?"

"Fred and George." I waved my hand absentmindedly. "Besides, I shouldn't be so upset about the whole 'Mudblood' thing. It's just a name."

Outside the library, a late Slytherin ran by, hissing, "Hey, mudbloods!" At Hermione and I. Hermione stiffened.

Slowly, I raised my hand and waved. "Hey, pureblood!" The poor guy looked miserably confused, and I had to stop and rest before I could stop laughing.

"I've never heard of that as an insult," Hermione commented amusedly.

I grinned. "Last day of school, you and I turn that into an insult, okay?"

"Yeah! It'll be so funny!" Ron momentarily forgot about his whining stomach and guffawed. His stomach growled loudly, and this time mine did too.

"Okay, let's go eat, I'm hungry now too." I smiled sheepishly. We headed towards the Great Hall, my mood lifted.