I'll Fight For You
By Hazelmist/Summerskies
Disclaimer: I own Shakespeare and Grace Adams. Of course everything else belongs to the marvelous JK Rowling.
A/N: The prologue starts the flashback. This chapter begins just before the start of Lily's sixth year and the story continues on from there. I hope you give it a chance.
Chapter One: An Awful Awakening
"WAKE UP!"
My dreams are shattered, and abruptly I find myself once again in the waking world. That horrible noise that you're hearing - you know that noise that sounds like a banshee having a bad day? That sound is actually my sister Petunia. But for some reason I don't believe that I'm actually hearing her. I crack open an eye, and yes, she's still there. I'm not dreaming. That's funny because I dreamed I that I was dead. But I'm not. Petunia's here in the flesh with me in my room. I almost smile, but as soon as she opens her mouth again I immediately frown, and clap my hands over my ears.
I swear I heard a window crack.
"SHUT UP!" I yell. And she does. Amazingly!
She smirks at me, a smug look on her horse shaped face even as she cranes her long neck out the window to steal a glimpse at the neighbor's back yard. Usually she yells at me, but today she's only silent. What's her problem? As if she heard me, she turns to me and announces,
"It's September first."
"Congratulations, Petunia! You now officially know the months and days of the year." I clap my hands, and roll my eyes at her stupidity. In case you haven't figured it out yet, my sister and I don't get along.
"Lily, it's September 1st," she repeats.
God, she is so stupid. I know it's great for her to learn the dates and everything, but really, I only need to know what day it is once and not every five seconds.
"So I've heard," I say dryly, snuggling back into the warm sheets of my bed.
Petunia snickers as if she knows something I don't. It doesn't bother me though. She's so gossipy, that if she is trying to keep something from me she automatically blurts it out within three seconds. And this time is no different.
"Leave me alone Petunia," I groan, not in the mood for some of the latest details about Vernon - the beefy boy that lives across the street.
Of course Petunia is practically ready to explode. So, yes, about five seconds later she spills.
"Lily, don't you know that today is-" I cut her off.
"It's September 1st! I know Petunia that it's September 1st! Now for the last time stop telling me that it's Sept-"
Oh, crap.
I sit upright in my bed. My head whips to the window where the sun's out bright and shining. Then I glance at my calendar. The dates are all crossed off except for one. September 1st. That's today. And underneath it Kings Cross is written in my untidy handwriting.
"What time is it!" I yell, leaping out of bad and lunging toward the clothes that I left out the night before.
"Ten o'clock," Petunia replies, after an extremely drawn out pause. She's smirking again. I wish I could wipe that smirk right off her face, but just when I'm considering it, my mom walks in.
"Lily, are you ready? Lily! We have to go! You have to be there honey! Why aren't you ready?" my mom asks, her mouth dropping.
Uh, sorry mom. I had a dream that I died and so I slept through both my alarms. But of course I couldn't explain this to my mom because she wouldn't understand. I mean, how many people dream about their deaths? And I don't even really remember what happened. All I remember was these scary psycho red eyes, and lips mouthing something. Then everything went really quiet, and time slowed down. It was sort of cool, but it was really scary. I shudder remembering the laugh I heard just before time came to a standstill. It's been haunting my dreams a lot lately.
Before I can explain - which I wasn't going to - but at least before I could give her a good excuse, my father knocks on the door.
"Lily?"
My mother shuts the door impatiently before he can enter. My poor father gets his fingers stuck in the door. Ouch. But my mother is too frazzled to notice. It seems that she overslept as well, and that we're all behind schedule.
"I don't want to rush you Lily, but I don't want to get stuck in traffic like we did last year. So, I think that we should probably get going soon," my father calls through the door.
"She's getting dressed Matt," my mother responds.
"Okay she's - she's what!? But it's already ten o'clock! We left at nine last year, and Lily nearly missed the train!"
"I know Matthew!" my mom snaps as I frantically finish dressing, and the two of us start collecting my things and tossing them into the trunk. Petunia just sits there on the windowsill watching us. See! I do have a reason to hate her. I don't even have time to toss her a glare, because I'm too busy trying to gather up my things.
"Petunia, for God's sake get up and do something!" my mother finally scolds.
"Okay fine!"
Petunia gets up, but moves at an unbearably slow pace. Instead of placing things into my trunk she's picking them up and looking at them. Things she's never allowed to see - not that she hasn't tried before - are suddenly at her fingertips. The first thing she sees with those tiny grey eyes of hers is my diary. She swoops down and grabs it before I make a dash for it.
She knows I can't do anything. The moment I ask for the object back my mom's going to want to see it. I love mom dearly but she's been dying to know if I have a love life, and she can't understand why I don't have one. I caught her once or twice in my room looking through my drawers because she knows I keep a diary she's just never seen it before. Poor mom. I sort of feel bad because I used to tell her everything when I was little, but now it's different.
"Give it back to me Petunia!" I growl, as she scampers up onto the windowsill. I race toward her, ready to sock her, but the damage is already done.
"Why Lily, I thought you didn't keep a diary!" she exclaims, when I'm less than a foot away.
My mother's head snaps up, and suddenly the packing is forgotten. I see that look in her eyes. And I really do feel bad. I really do wish I could tell her everything. She understands me so well when we talk about "me". "Me" as in the person I used to be or little naive ten year old Lily. And I'm sure she would understand teenage Lily too. But I can't tell her anything.
You see, there are just some things that no matter how hard I try to explain, and no matter how hard she tries to comprehend she would never be able understand. And so she has to resort to this: stealing my diary. Even if it means missing the train.
I want to kill Petunia, because I know I can't let Mom see what's in that. I'm going to have to rip it from her grasp, and break Mom's heart all over again. And then she's going to look at me sadly. And then…
I wish I could tell you Mom, but I want to keep you safe. I don't want you to have dreams about death and I don't want you to have to live like I do. Because you'll never understand, because you're not a wit-
CRASH!
Petunia screams, and leaps off the windowsill. I jump up into the air and catch the diary, stuffing it into the deepest darkest corners of my trunk. Turning, I see that both Petunia and my dear mom have forgotten about the diary. Petunia is screeching like a banshee again, and pointing at the window. My mom is rushing over to the window, and talking to something. Immediately I deliberately step on the cowering Petunia, and run to my mother's side.
My mother smiles, and closes the window. When she turns around I see what she's holding so gingerly in her arms and I have to laugh.
The two of us share a knowing smile and a short laugh as she gently transfers the injured owl that just slammed into our window to my waiting arms.
"Will Shakespeare be okay?" I ask concerned, even though I'm partly amused, since the familiar creature - which happens to be my best friend's pet - just slammed into our window for the hundredth time.
"He'll be fine," my mother says, smoothing down Shakespeare's feathers. The owl opens its eyes and suddenly comes to life. It scrambles to its feet with its wings unfurling. I barely have time to snatch the letter from its leg, before it takes off and flies over to the opposite side of the room.
Petunia screams again and dives underneath the bed.
"Oh, you poor, poor baby. Come here beautiful," my mother coos. But she's not talking to Petunia. She's talking to the owl, attempting to coax it down from its post atop my bureau. Once the owl sees my mother it flies down and lands on her shoulder. And my mother walks out of the room, talking about a very special owl treat that she has waiting for it.
Now, you may think it's weird that an owl just flew into my room. But really it isn't. It's an every day occurrence in my life, and my mom who loves all animals has taken quite a fancy to the frequent resident of our household. Even if he is a little flighty. Honestly, I think the owl spends more time here at my house then with my best friend. And you probably think that my best friend's a freak since she has an owl for a pet and she's not in a loony bin yet. And you're probably wondering why I am still friends with her. But where she lives, everyone has owls.
I guess I better explain. You see, I, Lily Evans, am not your average teenage girl. I'm a witch.
There I said it.
So, now you know why I'm receiving a letter from my best friend's pet owl. And now you can see why I can't really talk to my mom, because she isn't a witch. Oh, don't get me wrong, she loves the fact that I'm a witch and so does my Dad. But some people -
"GET THAT THING OUT OF HERE!" My sister's sweet voice carries all the way from the kitchen, up to my room on the second floor. Ha ha. I take it Shakespeare found Petunia. I can hear her screaming like she's about to be murdered. Shakespeare wouldn't hurt a fly, and besides he's probably nowhere near her.
"I SWEAR IF I SEE ONE MORE OWL FOR THAT FREAK!"
That freak would be me.
"PETUNIA!"
My sister falls silent at my mom's shout, but the damage is already done. I'm used to it though. My sister and I used to talk, but then when I turned eleven an owl arrived saying that I was a witch, and that I was going to a school called Hogwarts to learn about witchcraft and wizardry and meet tons of other witches and wizards my age. My sister couldn't accept this, and well, you see the result. We hate each other now. I used to care, but now it doesn't matter anymore. In fact, it's easier this way for me.
I sigh, and sit down on the bed, trying to ignore whatever my sister's screaming about now (something about someone's head appearing in the fireplace). I almost forgot about the letter in my hand because I was so caught up in my thoughts. And then there was the whole train incident…
Oh, no! The train!
Oh Merlin, I've got to go right now! I jump off the bed and throw open my door.
"MOM I'M GOING TO MISS THE TRAIN!"
And then I run into someone. I literally ran into the body at full force. I swear there was no way I could stop myself. I had no idea that someone was going to be right outside of my room. He's not prepared either, because with a muffled yelp we smash into the opposite wall of the upstairs hallway and nearly fall to the ground.
"OW!" He yells as I hear their head connect with my mother's favorite portrait.
I look up expecting to find my nosy sister, my concerned mother, or my anxious father, but it's not any of them. In fact, it's the very last person I expect to find in my household.
My mouth drops, and my eyes must have gotten huge. I'm so shocked to see him inside my house that I can't move. I just sit there, crushing him against the wall and my mother's favorite portrait. I don't even notice that he's holding me, and that I'm clinging to him, and that we're closer then we've ever been in all the five or six years that I've known him. Our faces are so alarmingly close that I can feel his breath on my face, and that is extremely scary.
You know this could have been a very romantic moment. If only it had been any other guy. Even beefy spoiled Vernon Dursley from across the street would've been better then the guy that I'm currently clinging to that's holding me so painfully close to his body.
I blink, hoping he will go away and be replaced with a handsome Prince Charming ready to give me a kiss that would sweep me off my feet. But unfortunately of all the millions of eligible bachelors in the world it had to be him.
The most arrogant, bullying, self-centered, conceited, inconsiderate, perverted, selfish, big headed human being on the face of the earth…
"JAMES POTTER GET YOUR SLIMY HANDS OFF OF ME!"
He looks a little taken aback by my little outburst. But when he sees how serious I am, his hands start moving right away. Not fast enough though. He's like Petunia, moving slower than a constipated snail, and allowing his hands to pass over all the forbidden things that he'll never get another chance to touch.
My hands creep up to his collar, and I start pulling him toward me, only to throw him back against the wall with all my might. His head connects once more with the portrait, with a sickening crack, and another "OW!" followed by a few profane words that would make my mother's eyes widen.
That should teach him a lesson.
He closes his eyes and whimpers, touching the back of his head that connected not once but twice with the family portrait. What a big baby he is! He's moaning as if he's on his death bed and he's not even bleeding!
"Damn you Evans!" he hisses.
"You were asking for it Potter." I smirk.
If I'm lucky, he's got a one hell of a bump on the back of his head. It's a shame that it wasn't on the front of his face where everyone could see it. By the sound of his exaggerated complaints, the bump should last for quite a while. Perhaps, it will be a reminder to his wandering hands that my body is off limits.
Sadly, it probably won't get through that thick skull of his. James Potter seems to believe that he's god's gift to woman. With his messy black hair, his wild hazel eyes, his adorable smile, his charming manner, and his oh so suave moves Potter seems to believe that he has every girl at Hogwarts drooling, staring, worshipping, and kissing the ground that he walks on.
But he doesn't have every girl at Hogwarts brainwashed to think of him as their god. At least not yet…
There a few highly intelligent females who know that he's really biggest scum bag on the planet.
First, there's me. I personally hate - no, I despise Potter. He's so full of himself. He's always bullying everyone else. And for those few individuals who don't hold the door open for him or get down on their hands and knees and pray to him he makes sure that they pay the consequences.
It's disgusting to watch how everyone else kisses the hem of his robes, and practically licks his shoes. I swear if he told them to jump off a bridge they would gladly do it before he even finished saying the word bridge. I'm embarrassed and humiliated to call myself a female student at Hogwarts after watching some of those girls do back flips through flaming hoops just to get a mere glance from his direction.
Thankfully there are others who feel the same as I do.
Like…
Um…
Well, there are others. Their names have just slipped my mind temporarily.
As I sit here racking my brain for the missing names, someone's running up the steps. I look at James, who's still leaning against the wall trying to get an ounce of sympathy out of me (which is not going to happen in a million years). But suddenly, it hits me that James Potter is a male in my house, and that someone's going to see him. Automatically my brain kicks into panic mode. If my father sees his little girl within five feet of anything even remotely male, both James and I are dead. Daddy is very over protective of me. He seems to believe that all boys and men are going to hurt me. He doesn't seem to grasp the concept that I am a sixteen year old witch that can take care of herself.
Oh, don't get me wrong, he knows I'm not weak. He just loves me a lot, and he just doesn't trust guys at all.
My heart leaps into my throat. I have to do something!
Impulsively I grab James, and pull him into the bathroom. Then I lock the door behind us. James's eyes widen behind his glasses, when he sees me locking the door.
"Evans what--" I cover his mouth with my hand, immediately silencing him with my most urgent, desperate look.
I listen for the sound of the footsteps but it seems that they stopped. Slowly I remove my hand from James's mouth, and pressing a finger to my mouth, I tiptoe over to the door. I press my ear against it trying to listen. But I can't hear a thing because someone's breathing loudly in my ear.
I look up and come within inches of James's face. He's practically breathing down my neck. What is it with him? Does he always have to get so close to people? Doesn't he realize that it annoys people?
"Shut up!" I hiss.
"I'm not saying anything," James whispers back, a little too loud for my liking.
"You're breathing too loudly."
"I'm so sorry Ms. Evans. I'll just stop breathing altogether," James says sarcastically.
"Could you? Thanks that would do the world all a huge favor." I press my ear against the door again but once again I'm distracted.
James is panting in my ear. The git! He's doing it on purpose just to annoy me.
"Potter, I told you to stop breathing!" I snap.
"I can't, and even if I could I wouldn't!"
"Well, you better change your mind, because I can't hear a thing with you over there breathing like you just ran a marathon."
"Evans, I could hear you breathing from the other side of the room."
"It's amazing you can hear anything else when you're panting like a thirsty hot dog."
James starts laughing at my choice of words. He's so loud. He doesn't even bother to muffle it.
"Shut up!" I say, hitting him.
"Make me," he challenges, smirking.
James just laughs louder as I hit him again with a little more force. But it's hard to sock someone when you're squished against them in a small bathroom that you barely fit into. I try to cover his mouth again, but James is stronger then me and pushes my hands away. Instead he grabs my arms in his hands, holding me captive. The laughter stops and he smirks.
"So Evans, why don't you tell me why you locked us both inside of the bathroom." I squirm trying to pull my arms free, but James just tightens his hold on me.
"I was trying to save your life, but that obviously proved to be a mistake."
James looks both puzzled and stunned. Why couldn't I keep my mouth shut?
"You care about me Evans?" he asks.
Oh! How I hate him! Right now, I really wish I had left him out in the hallway. Or better yet, I should've told my Dad that he was harassing me. Why did I think for a second that the ungrateful spoiled brat would thank me? Why on earth would I ever wish to save his life? What possessed me to do that?
"You wish Potter!"
I pull back with all my might, and finally come loose from his grip. Then I fling open the door, and the two of us stumble into the hallway. Immediately, a hand grabs James and forcefully lifts him to his feet.
"I can't leave you alone for a minute! I turned my back on you for a second and you were gone! What in the Wizarding World were you thinking!" I get to my feet, and find to my delight that a tall raven haired girl is scolding James.
I recognize that voice immediately. When the girl turns her head, I find myself looking into yet another familiar face. As soon as her blue eyes meet mine she breaks into a grin.
"Gracie!" I yell, throwing my arms around her.
"Lily!" she squeals, hugging me.
Grace Adams is my best friend. We've been friends since we first started Hogwarts together, five years ago. We met in Diagon Alley with Potter, and then later we shared a boat with Potter, and then we were both sorted into Gryffindor with Potter. Even though I've only known her for five years, I feel like we've known each other our whole life.
The fact that she's immune to the Potter charm only strengthens our friendship. Gracie is related to James. Don't ask me how, but they're cousins, or second cousins, or something like that. I look at my best friend, and then back at James. How could someone so incredibly kind and selfless share the same blood as this selfish prat standing beside us?
If they hadn't told me I would have never believed that they were related. Gracie doesn't even look like him. Well, except for having the same hair color, and the same nose, she looks nothing like him.
I'm hoping that Grace is going to start scolding her cousin again, but she doesn't. Instead she looks at both of us.
"What were you doing in the bathroom?" she asks with a mischievous grin.
"NOTHING!" I shout.
"We were--"
"-doing NOTHING!" I interrupt, giving him a fierce glare. If he tries to make something up, I'm going to make sure that he wishes he was never born.
"Evans, we spent a whole blissful ten minutes in there, and you say that we were doing nothing? I'm hurt," James says with a very bad imitation of a sad face.
I punch his arm, hard. James yelps, and grabs his injured arm with yet another interesting curse word. When Gracie gives us a look, James immediately points the finger at me.
"She's trying to kill me, Gracie! First, she knocks me over when I arrive, and then she tries to crack my skull open with the family portrait!"
My mouth drops. He forgot to mention the part where he showed up in my house unexpected, and uninvited, and then he wouldn't let go of me.
"Lily!" Gracie groans.
"He was groping me!" I yell defensively.
"James!" Gracie hits him upside the head, her eyes flashing.
"I did not!" James lies.
"Then why did you have her locked in the bathroom with you?" Gracie demands.
James again blames me.
"Evans abducted me! After she unsuccessfully tries to kill me with a family portrait, out of the blue she grabs me and pulls me into the bathroom with her. Then she locks the door behind us, and tells me to shut up and be quiet. If that's not a murder waiting to happen, then I'll eat my sneaker," he says, feigning innocence.
"You better eat it, because I was trying to save your life!"
"So, you admit that you care about me Evans!" James grins triumphantly.
My blood's boiling. Boy, do I regret saving the git's life.
"Hell no!"
"Yes you do."
"I do not!"
"Come here Evans." He tries to grab me, but I shriek and hide behind Gracie. James tries to get around Gracie, but I wrap my arms around her and bury my head into her back.
"Please Gracie, make him leave me alone," I beg.
Gracie sighs, but when I refuse to let go of her, she tells James to sod off or she'll tell his mom. James immediately stops trying to chase after me, and I come out from behind my protective shield.
"You love me Evans," he whispers to me, when Gracie's not looking. She's rummaging around in her pockets for something.
"Only in your dreams Potter," I snort
"Will you two knock it off?" Gracie snaps.
"I wasn't doing anything!" we both say at the same time.
"Sure you weren't." Gracie at last finds what she is looking for, and removes it from her pocket. Her eyes widen and she stuffs the object back into her pocket.
"What?" I ask.
"Do you have your stuff?" she demands, looking around.
"It's in my room," I answer, blankly.
"Where's your room?" Gracie asks.
She's never been to my house before, neither has James. I suddenly realize how strange it is that they're here now. And my parents, wouldn't they have noticed that two teenagers showed up at my house? Not to mention that one of them was a teenage BOY. How weird.
I lead the way to my room. I hold the door open for Gracie, but slam the door in James's face. There's no way that he is coming into my room.
"Evans's trying to kill me again!" he whines, banging on the door. "Come on, let me in!"
"So this is your room?" Gracie asks softly, walking around and looking at all the objects cluttering my desk. She pauses to pick up a book here, and there, and a small photograph of my parents.
"Yea, home sweet home," I reply glumly. "Do you like it?"
"I love it!" she exclaims flopping down on my bed.
I smile and sit down on the bed beside her. I've missed her. My summer was so lonely, and boring, and now suddenly my best friend, and of all people, Potter, show up inside my house. I look at Gracie.
"Gracie?"
"Yea?"
"Um, what are you doing here?" I ask curiously.
Gracie who is currently inspecting the stuff on my bedside table, suddenly freezes. The moving portrait of Gracie, me, and our fellow dorm mates drops from her hands with a clatter. Hurriedly, she stands up, and moves to replace it in its original place.
"You know why I'm here Lily."
"Uh no, I don't think I do."
Gracie looks at me, frowning.
"Didn't you read my letter?" she asks sharply.
"You never sent me a let--" I stop. My hand automatically goes to my pocket where I put the unread letter that had arrived only minutes before James's unexpected arrival. In my haste to catch the train, I never even thought to read it. Oh crap, the train!
"We're going to miss the train!" I exclaim, springing to my feet.
Gracie laughs darkly, a weird expression crossing her face. Something's wrong.
"Forget about the train, it's not leaving today."
"What?"
"I take it you didn't read my letter," she says with a sigh, nodding to the letter in my hand.
"I'm sorry. I meant to, but I thought I was going to miss the train. And then my sister was yelling, and James showed up, and now you're both here. And you're telling me that the train isn't leaving, and I'm so confused. Can you please tell me what's going on?" I beg.
"I guess it's better if I tell you in person anyway." Gracie runs a hand through her hair, pacing for a moment. Then she stops and makes a gesture toward the bed.
"You better sit down, because this might come as a bit of a shock to you," she says.
Obediently I sit down. My heart's thudding in my chest, and I realize that I'm scared of whatever she's going to tell me. I notice for the first time as Gracie paces back and forth in front of me, wringing her hands, how upset and anxious she looks. It just adds to my growing fear.
"Just tell me!" I blurt out, unable to take it anymore.
Gracie takes a deep breath and faces me.
"I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE LET ME IN!"
Count on James to ruin everything. The selfish brat only thinks of himself. He's threatening to break down the door, and if he's not careful, he just might. I get up fully intending to give him a piece of my mind.
"LET ME IN!"
"NO!"
"GRACIE! MAKE HER OPEN THE DOOR!" James yells.
"Let him in," Gracie says, softly.
I open my mouth to protest, but Gracie shakes her head at me.
"Please Lily, just do it."
Sulkily, and reluctantly, I open the door and let the spoiled brat inside. He smirks at me, and I stick my tongue out at him. Real mature, Lily. Real mature. I close the door again, and James goes over to Gracie. The two of them are holding a whispered conversation when I turn around, but stop as soon as I come within hearing distance.
"Alright," I demand, folding my arms over my chest, and sitting down on the bed in front of them. "You're going to tell me right now what's going on."
A/N: So that's the first REAL chapter. What do you think? Constructive Criticism would be greatly appreciated.
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