Just Me

Just Me

EARLY MORNING - BED

I've never been the prettiest, or the smartest, or the nicest. Just me. I've never really stood out, but never really blended in. I've never been outgoing, but I've never been reticent, either. I've never been beautiful; I've never been ugly. I've never been kind; I've never been mean. Plain ol' Lily, that's me. The only thing I have going for me is that I'm smart; but you know, I've learned that most students here don't really care about your intellect -- not really. That doesn't end up being why they like you or don't like you. If you're smart, you don't even wind up with a status: you're not popular, but you haven't been deemed unpopular, so you're sort of stuck in the middle hovering near no-friends-at-all-'cos-I'm-a-bookworm-loser. And as for me, well, I'm not extremely popular and no one really cares much about me except for a few close friends: Faera, James, Remus, Leila, Veronica, Sirius... that's all, mostly, and Sirius -- well, he's usually too busy with his latest girlfriend to care about his friends. James is getting to be the same way, lately, and I have no idea why. We used to be really close, but not anymore; it's odd. I have no idea what's been happening.

Except that lately, around him ... I've been starting to feel really... I don't know. Uncoordinated and sick? More so than I usually am, that is. Uneasy and self-conscious and terrified and nervous and -- what's happening to me? It's frightening, really, just amazingly scary...

Maybe that's why we've--James and I, I mean--been growing apart. I wonder... it's possible, you know.

we're in a corner

playing gin rummy all night long

listening to your

absolute favorite song

I don't know what I'm writing! Lovesick ballads to James? This is pathetic, really! Is this what James does to me? I'd better not tell anyone -- especially not Leila, because even though she's very sweet and everything, she's a horrid gossip, and it'd be all over the school in hours. And I can't let anyone know... they'd think I like him or something! And I don't!

It's so hard, being sixteen. I'm so confused. My life is confusing, overall, but now I'm more confused than ever. I hope I don't like him; it'd be awful. I don't think you're supposed to like your best friend. I mean, I haven't seen it written down anywhere, but maybe it's one of those unspoken rule-things that you always have to watch out for.

I'm just plain admitting I like him, ain't I? Well, guess what, I think it's true.

Revelations, revelations.

How horrible of me to like my best friend! And he'll probably find out; I'm not good at hiding things. Then he'll engage in the laughing fit of the century. Great, just great.

I could be your Cinderella from the ashes

a phoenix rising, golden slippers

yes, I could be a Cinderella in my nightdress

all white and silver, like a faerie

but then, I only come out at midnight

only with you there - only with you there

Oh, and I wish I was his Cinderella...

Time for my lovestruck ramblings to end, dear Diary; time for them to end. Breakfast calls, and... well, I want to see him there. But he isn't always -- practice and all. Damn Quidditch, it takes all the fun out of your crushes!

--Lily

LATE MORNING - CHARMS CLASS

Yes, I'm being an awful student, but I've done my work, so Professor Flitwick won't mind if I take a break. I'm top student, after all! Just think, next year, I've got a shot at being Head Girl! Imagine that! Me, Head Girl!

Although I suppose it's because no one else is quite qualified. Leila and Faera and Veronica could have been be Heads if they'd tried really hard and gotten tutors, but they didn't, so they're out of the running. Leila's simply not good at Charms and Faera is hopeless at Herbology; Veronica just isn't interested in being Head Girl. She's more of an artistic person, I s'pose, which is why she's not too good at Arithmancy and Ancient Runes and such things. She really excels at DADA and Transfiguration, and is quite obsessed with Divination as well, although her obsession can't even compare to Sibyll Trelawney. That awful, bug-like Hufflepuff is positively a Divination nutcase. No, no, I mean really -- she once walked up to me and said, "I read auras. Your aura is demented. Were you in Azkaban in a former life? The Dementors have done a good job. You look almost normal. Let me see your palm."

I ran away from her, with good reason.

And the rest of girls in my year seem to be more interested in boys and hair-flipping than anything else, if you ask me.

As for Head Boy... I don't know. It's down to Remus Lupin or that boy from Hufflepuff -- John Kazoointoit, I think it is? I can't remember. Or James, who's got top marks in most things, and close to top in all the rest.

Yes, let's get back on the subject of my -- endearment, why don't we? I've finally admitted to myself that I like him... a lot. Merlin, I can't believe myself! I shouldn't like him, I really, really shouldn't. It's horrible -- and evil -- and embarrassing-- and --

God, he has a nice ass.

I did not just write that -- I know I didn't. I couldn't have. I'm Lily Evans. I'm a goody-two-shoes. I do not think about the arses of my best friends.

But it is a nice arse, and it happens to be right in front of me, because he just had to go ask Professor Flitwick a question, and he just had to ask him right in front of my desk. (Well, Flitwick's desk is right in front of mine, so it's logical, but whatever.) So, if he turns around and sees me staring at him, I can just say I was about to ask Flitwick a question. Except I'd probably blush, so it wouldn't work properly, but...

I'm not going to go into the details, just take my word for it -- he has an extremely wonderful ass.

Mmfh, he sat down. So no more ogling James' arse. Right.

Of course not.

Except for when he gets up again.

Hormones should die a long and painful death.

NOON - GREAT HALL

NEWS FLASH! It's not like: it's love.

Dammit!

THREE MINS LATER - ALCOVE OFF GREAT HALL

Alright, I don't know how it happened. I know everything you can find in books -- but this hasn't been written down anywhere. (It's not another one of those stupid unspoken rules, is it? I hate those! I think someday I'll write a book of unspoken rules...) See, I can't know this, because I have never fallen in love. That just doesn't happen. Lily does NOT equal love.

Except for now.

Because I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that when you're in like, you don't want to cry when you think of him snogging another girl in the back corner; that when you're in like, you don't turn pink all over (and I mean ALL over) when he brushes against you; that when you're in like, you don't dream about marriage and children and other such things.

Marriage. Family. Not marriage: oh oh, the sex! but marriage: I'm devoted to him forever.

So many people mistake like for love, but I'm not one of them. If it's like, it's like. If it's love, it's love.

No maybes about it.

LATE AFTERNOON - COMMON ROOM

Yeah, just great. James and Crista (one of his many girlfriends, a fourth-year Hufflepuff) have broken up (after only one day, five hours, and twenty-three minutes! I know because Leila told me Crista had been counting, and Leila knows everything), only for James to hook up with Rachayal.

What is with this womanizing stuff?

He never used to be like this. He used to be nice and talkative and find plenty of time to hang around his best friends. But not anymore. Now he just spends all his time with a stupid chick on his arm or in his lap, kissing his cheek and giggling constantly. Honestly!

Oh God. Do you think it's because he hates me? Do you think that's why? He's not hanging out with me anymore because he hates me? He's finally come to his senses and sees a bookworm fireball shrimp? And just when I realized I like him!

I hate my life!

easy I know

to leave me in the dust

my glass slipper is long since worn away

but you know -- I still care, even if you've

forgotten

oh god Cinderella has lost her glass slipper -- and her glass slipper was all she had left

Yes, I'm so good at explaining myself in my deluded, freakish poems, ain't I?

Well, I don't suppose it matters, because you can't laugh at my poems, which is good; I don't want my diary of all things throwing rotten tomatoes at me. (I don't know where you'd get the rotten tomatoes, and you don't have hands -- but whatever.)

You know, I really do think that he's forgotten all about me. That or he hates me. Take your pick.

I think I'll go curl up in a ball and sob awhile.

--Ever-Depressed Lily

EARLY EVENING - BED

I've decided. He doesn't hate me.

He just despises me.

And my guts.

Why else would he be avoiding me like this?

LATE EVENING - BED

I didn't go to dinner; Faera said James was worried; I told her that James has forgotten that I exist. She said that wasn't true, and I asked her if it wasn't, why hasn't he been spending time with me?

She wouldn't answer.

Faera is so aggravating.

"Lily, come on, you know James hasn't forgotten about you! You're still his best friend!"

Yeah, right, Faera. We both know that isn't true.

I said, "Fine! He hasn't forgotten me; he just hates me!"

"Lily, stop it. You know that isn't true either."

"Is so!"

"You sound like a two-year-old."

Gee, thanks, Faera. I feel loved.

Then she said (in that weird mysterious way Faera likes to say things), "those aren't the only possibilities."

"Then what, pray tell, are the others?"

"I'm not allowed to tell," Faera whined, because even though she loves giving out hints, she absolutely hates expounding on them.

I receded into my curtains.

I hate James for ignoring me.

I hate Faera for keeping secrets.

I hate Veronica for no reason.

I hate Sirius because he's Sirius.

I hate Remus because he's Remus.

I hate Peter because I don't like soppy fat guys.

I hate Leila for... er... no reason.

I hate Rachayal because I'm so jealous of her!

I hate the world! (And my life.)

LATE EVENING - BED

I still hate the world.

And I still hate my life!

MIDNIGHT - BED... AS USUAL

I've changed my mind.

Oh, God, have I ever changed my mind.

Well, this is how the story goes...

Apparently Faera told James that I thought he hated me, so he came in right after I had written my last entry and said that he didn't hate me and he never would and that he hadn't forgotten about me. I scowled something awful at him and buried my face in my pillow. He tried to get me to talk; I refused. Failing this, he picked me up off my bed (why, oh why can't I weigh more?) and carried me out of the room, down the stairs, and out the portrait hole.

At that point I was scared and extremely red (I told you, I blush whenever he touches me!) from being in his arms, and was shrieking into his shoulder-chest-area. His shoulder-chest-area because I didn't want to be discovered by a professor -- after all, I still want to be Head Girl! The professors don't really care what the situation is; damsel in distress or not, I'm out of bed, and James and I would both get awful detentions and points taken off.

So my screams were muffled and we were, miraculously, undiscovered by the professors -- who take midnight "strolls" (a synonym, in their vernacular, for patrols) around the castle -- or, worse, Peeves (because all of Hogwarts knows how his awful limericks go--it was horrible what he did to that little Hufflepuff kid... about whose newfound phobias I really don't want to know). Anyway, we escaped (well, okay, James did the actual escaping) to a grassy patch near the lake underneath a tree. Actually it was more of a shrub-ish thing, but I can pretend it was a tree, right? It served its purpose; we couldn't be seen from Hogwarts -- not in James' black robes and my navy sweater and plaid skirt. Anyway, James dumped me somewhat unceremoniously on the ground and proceeded to tell me:

"Lily--look, Lily--I don't--I don't--I won't ever--"

"What's with the stuttering?" I asked. I'm a little too blunt at times, I suppose.

"This isn't exactly easy!" he shot back. "You trying telling the girl you just happen to be in love with that you like her!" James has a very big mouth. He clapped his hands over this feature and shook his head. "Which wasn't how I meant it," he mumbled through his hands. I was just sitting there, completely and totally bowled over. I think my silence kind of unnerved him. "Oh, dammit, Lily, talk to me. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that..."

"So you don't like me?"

"Oh, Lily, that wasn't what I meant..."

"So you don't like me?"

"Oh, Lily, I--"

"Tell me, James! I'm sick of you skirting around stuff! You've been doing it forever, and just stop it, okay? Tell me, straight out, why you dragged me out here! Just tell me!"

"Dammit, Lily, I..."

"What?"

He slumped to the ground beside me and buried his head in my lap.

"I lusherku," he muttered. Or at least that was what it sounded like.

"What? Oh, get your head off my skirt, James, I can't hear you."

He lifted his head and looked at me with those horrible big brown eyes.

"I love you," he informed me. I stared at him, feeling a lump grow in my throat. I hate it when people tease me about something that matters to me!

"James, that isn't funny--"

"I wasn't kidding!"

"James, that really isn't funny!"

I stood up, whirled around, and attempted to march back to Hogwarts and my nice warm room where I could go to sleep. However, James isn't a Chaser for nothing; I was in his lap before you could say "lovestruck Lily".

"I love you, Lily Evans," he whispered huskily into my ear. "And please don't walk away without telling me your side of it all."

"Goddammit, James, you've got a girlfriend!"

"We broke up... you missed it..."

"So I'm going to be played just like Rachayal?"

"Was that her name? I wondered..."

"Answer me, James!"

"No, you will not be played, Lily, you will be worshipped and kissed and by God, you will be loved, Lily, you'll be loved." His lips were so dangerously close to my ear... I could actually feel his breath... not that his breath wasn't nice, mind you, because practically everything about James is nice...

"I don't want --"

"Like hell you don't."

"James..."

"Tell me your side of it, Lily. Tell me what you feel for me."

"Friendship, and -- and -- and --"

"And what?"

I don't know how it happened. I don't know anything; I can't remember anymore. All I know is that I turned my head to look at him, to kiss him on the cheek, to tell him it was just friendship, even if it wasn't, because -- oh, I don't know why; I'm horribly stupid at times.

Well, while I was making to kiss him on the cheek, he did something that resulted in the fact that, a second later, my lips were right up against his.

Kissing him.

Kissing James Potter.

Kissing James Potter, my best friend.

Kissing him.

And moreover, enjoying it... a lot. Even more than I would have expected to, had I actually had more time to think about what kissing him might be like.

I've finally figured out why all his girlfriends (who are obsessed with material things and kissing and that sort of thing and not inner goodness like I am... oh, fine, I like great arses as much as the next person) were so head-over-heels for him -- aside from his good looks and great arse and all, I mean. He's a damn good snogger. Damn good. And, God, I felt like I belonged there -- in his arms, at his mouth, cradled, rocked -- I felt so safe in his arms!

Of course, after about seven minutes of snogging -- gentle snogging, mind you, because I don't think either of us wanted to rush things (difficult when he dragged me out here and told me he loved me before anything else), but still, snogging -- McGonagall found us (I really do hate those "strolls," you know) and sent us straight to bed (our individual beds, she specified) with detentions and forty points each from our house.

And so I'm here. Having just snogged James Potter. With relish. I plan on it happening again. It's extremely interesting, you know.

And I've been thinking. I still think of me as just me, because that's really all I am. But the thing is, see, just me managed to get James' attention. Romantic attention. And just me managed to get Head Girl -- well, most likely, anyway.

I have no idea how long his love for me will last, or mine for him; but I know that when I wake up tomorrow morning, I'll wake up to the prospect of greeting him with a good morning kiss and holding hands with him as we walk down the hall and being the one that he is in love with. And even if our love doesn't last very long, we've got now. I don't know how that sounds to you, but to me it sure sounds pretty good for just Lily Evans.

--Lily

Oh, I rather liked the poems. [yes, but this is Lily writing, and I don't think her self-confidence is at an all-time high right now] Heh, I wouldn't change that line; it fits perfectly. I just meant that I like the poems.