DISCLAIMER: Does I seem like I'm JK Rowling?

So this fanfic basically continues on from a few weeks right after the start of sixth year. (So the incident with Snape being hoisted up a tree by James has not happened yet.)

Chapter One: Despising Deer

Oh, I just hate James Potter.

I hated everything about him— the way he was always ruffling his black hair to make it look windswept, the way he was always messing around with his stolen Snitch. I hated the way he pranked and humiliated others when they did nothing to him. And I especially hated the way he would never shut up for a minute in his bigoted life.

I fumed about it to myself for a while. "Hate" wasn't even the correct word. "Loathe" or "despise" were far, far better in describing my absolute disgust towards him. In case you don't know the holier-than-thou Potter, his head is so big I don't know how he's able to keep himself on his fancy broom. His arrogance is a mile wide, and he manages to seduce half the girls at Hogwarts in twenty-four hours with his so-called "charm." Doubtful. His "charm" consists of supposedly heart-melting pickup lines that cause your brain to drip out of your ears, horrible pranks he pulls with his friends, and revolting sexual innuendoes that make me want to forcefully vomit all over his freshly shined shoes instead of kneeling at them like the King of Conceit expects. As if.

In general, the main thing you need to know is that he disgusts me. The worst part isn't his charm, or his idiocy: it's the fact that he cannot take a single hint. Potter has been asking me out since first year for no other reason than that he thinks I'm pretty. How shallow can you possibly get? And have I said yes yet? Not even close. But still. . .

At breakfast yesterday: "Go out with me, Evans?"

In Transfiguration yesterday: A note that hit me square in the face. It said, "Will you go out with me?"

In the library yesterday: "Evans, I'll get that book for you if you'll go out with me."

EVERYWHERE YESTERDAY: "Evans, will you go out with me?"

No, James Potter. No, no, no, no, no. But that prat won't take no for an answer. Ever. Nor will he take the consideration of others into his bigheaded mind and shut his mouth. We're in the latter half of our sixth year, and Potter and his little band of comrades are still prancing around the school and playing pranks right under the Prefects' noses. Well, every Prefect except for me. Remus Lupin, the sensible one in the Marauders, is a Prefect, but does he every control his idiotic mates? No. So the job is left to me, and I swear, it's getting ridiculous.

I furiously stalked down the corridor, my feet clanging rigorously on the floor. Then I realized I was a Prefect, and therefore had to set perfect examples for all the younger students. I straightened up, quit stomping my heart out, and tried to regain an air of dignity, flipping my red hair over one shoulder and tightening my grip on the strap of my bookbag.

"Hey! Evans!"

Oh, no. Get the hell away from me, Potter. . .

I didn't stop to wait for him, spitting out, "What do you want, Potter?"

I threw a quick glance behind me, and sure enough, James Bloody Potter was shoving his way through students without any regard to see if he pushed them over or not. Prat. In his wake was the ever-present and equally obnoxious Sirius Black, trailing behind Potter like a sulky shadow.

I didn't really know what to think of Sirius. He was just as outrightly malicious as Potter and was half the mastermind behind every prank there ever was. Black was one of the lady killers of Hogwarts, aka the most eligible bachelor there ever was, with a new girl on his arm and a broken heart under his heel every Friday. He'd never seemed to like me much, and honestly, the feeling was mutual. I didn't loathe him, but it's not like we're all cheek-and-jowl. So, not mates by any sense of the world.

"Can we talk, Evans?" And just like that, Potter was walking in sync with me again. Noooo. . . .

"What does it look like, Potter?" I snapped. "I'm obviously busy at the moment, and I'm going to be late to Charms. Bugger off."

"Then let me walk you there," Potter insisted persistently. "C'mon, Evans." A sly smirk played about his mouth, and I wanted to smack it off for him like a pesky mosquito.

"You aren't giving me much of a choice," I remarked acidly, walking a bit faster. If only I wasn't so short. . .

"You know me so well," Potter said arrogantly. I looked at— or rather, up— at him, and he was ruffling his hair. My teeth ground together.

"No, I just know you're an arsehole," I got out through my clenched jaw, stating it like it was a fact. The sky was blue, I was a witch, and James Potter was an arsehole. End of story.

There was a small snicker from Black, and I whipped around the scowl fiercely at him.

"You can't dislike me that much, eh Evans?" If I hadn't known better, I would've said Potter sounded almost pleading. Ha. But that would be saying that Professor McGonagall was doing pirouettes in plaid knickers and yodeling a song of the Scottish highlands with a fiddle while simultaneously waltzing with Peeves on the seventh-floor corridor, which is to say, impossible.

"I mean," Potter continued as we went up a staircase, "what's not to love? I'm handsome, talented—"

"Deer," interjected Black with a smirk that spoke legions of an inside joke. I couldn't decide whether he'd said "deer" as in the animal or "dear" as in the salutation for a letter. Either way, it made no sense. "Watch out Evans, he might just impale you with a gigantic antler one day when he gets all riled up, if you know what I mean."

Knowing Black, that whole statement was one big, elaborate sexual innuendo. I felt my face going up in flames like Black had just doused me in gasoline. Oh, god.

"Shut the hell up, Black," I hissed as sourly as I could manage with my face as red as my hair. Just a normal day in the mortifying life of Lily Evans.

Potter paused his monologue of "Look-At-Me-I'm-A-Jerk" to toss a dirty look at Black, who barked out a mingled stream of swear words and laughter. Boys.

"Anyways, where were we?" Potter sounded like he was waiting for me to gush on about him like his past girlfriends or something, like all, "Oh James!" *swoon* "You're right! You are handsome, and so clever, and I love you, and eeeee!"

Really, what did the jerk make me for, a pliable and naive little girl? I was Lily Evans, and hell, Lily Evans despised James Potter. Even the lowliest first-year knew that. I mean, did he actually believe I was going to go fainting at his stupid feet?

Not a chance, Potter.

"Nowhere," I mumbled derisively. Black barked out another laugh. Why did he keep sounding like a. . . dog? Whatever. Probably just me over-analyzing everything because bloody Potter was in the vicinity. "Look, Potter, why don't you just f—"

"Language, Evans," Black spouted, pretending to brush a bit of lint from his clothes. Okay, I'd made up my mind: I definitely hated him too. The self-obsessed, idiotic little. . .

I ignored him. Who knows, maybe there were some first-years watching this soap opera unfold or something. . . "Well, Potter, I'm at Charms. Later. . . but hopefully not," I added under my breath.

Potter looked slightly dejected, and moved to block the Charms doorway. Now I was really going to be late. . . He opened his mouth to whine something, and I considered quoting Severus on how "life isn't fair" and all that jazz before I decided against it. Potter and Black would probably hunt down poor Severus then. So, being the hypocritical person I am, I shoved my way past Potter and Black with a hefty glare speared at each of them.

Good riddance.

"Who were you glaring at?" asked one of my friends, Marlene McKinnon. Beside her sat my other best friend, Autumn Killick. Marlene and Autumn were complete opposites— Marlene had hair that managed to be every shade in the blonde spectrum without dying it at all. Her eyes were a brilliant dark blue color, and she was tall and slender, almost like a bird. Marlene, however, was the bravest person I'd ever met.

Autumn, on the other hand, was petite, with very, very long dark brown hair. Her amber eyes were always glittering with some kind of mischief, and she was the daredevil of all of us— the one that would sneak into the boys' dormitories and cast itching hexes on them or fly the highest on her broom, locked in a competition with Sirius Black. Autumn and Black were two of the singlehandedly most competitive people I'd ever met in my entire life, and they were forever trying to outdo the other.

Marlene and Autumn were both on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. And I swear, they could never take no for an answer. . . No matter how many times I tried to convince them that flying made me nauseous, it was always "Lily, come fly with us" this and "Lily, come to Quidditch practice!" that. Sorry, but no. After my experience in second year where Autumn dragged me up on her broom and I vomited, I was done with anything that had the least bit to do with flying.

"Lily?" Autumn was waving a hand in front of my face. She shot a look at Marlene. Okay, so I was a little mad. . . But could you blame me? NEWTS were coming, and I was going to die.

"What? What's happening?" I jerked upwards, my head flipping from left to right like a card. "Merlin, did Professor Flitwick call on me? Am I in trouble? What's—"

"Lily," Autumn said reassuringly, "no one's calling on you. You're fine. Mar just asked you who you were glaring at. Wait no, I bet I can guess that. . ."

I groaned. Stupid Potter. Stupid, stupid Potter. "It was the prat, Potter. He's being a real tosser these days. . ."

Marlene sighed, and Autumn rolled her eyes. "Lily, maybe if you just told him yes for once. . ."

"Ridiculous," I snapped. "Potter is just screwing with me. We all know that. I'm not pretty, not really interesting. I'm a Prefect. He's popular. We're completely incompatible, basically. Add in the fact that I absolutely loathe and you've got the dream couple of the year in the making."

"I'm being serious," Marlene protested, and I scowled at her, ready with a nice retort until Flitwick marched in.

I straightened up in my seat, prepared to look like the perfect student, and glanced around the classroom. Under her desk, Autumn had Quidditch Through the Ages by Kennilworthy Whisp. She was on the Quidditch team with Marlene, and they were both Chasers and completely obsessed with Quidditch. Meanwhile, I was a rule-abiding prefect, which was sort of boring, but I liked it all the same.

As Professor Flitwick began the lesson, I swatted at Autumn and she jumped. Quidditch Through the Ages fell to the floor with a loud crash. Flitwick barely looked up, and Autumn fumbled for her book, shrugging as I shot her a disapproving look. Meanwhile, the two Marauders in Charms— Sirius Black and Potter, naturally— started snickering. I rolled my eyes. Great. They were probably planning some other kind of ridiculous prank, knowing them.

The last prank they played on Professor Flitwick involved them "accidentally" levitating him onto the Slytherins' heads, namely Severus's head. Charms was a Gryffindor-Slytherin class, just like Defense Against the Dark Arts, and the minute I stepped into those two classes, I knew they'd end in complete disaster.

"Today," Flitwick's squeaky voice went, "we will be practicing dueling. Times grow darker, and Professor Dumbledore has instructed me to educate students on the art of fighting."

I gulped. Art of fighting? In a Slytherin-Gryffindor class? Was he mad? The rivalry between Gryffindors and Slytherins had just gotten worse (thanks to the Marauders, mostly). It was practically a war zone. And Dumbledore and Flitwick were mental enough to try and attempt dueling in a war zone, apparently.

Bloody hell. Flitwick would be in luck if the classroom wasn't completely destroyed by the end of class today.

"Professor Dumbledore has instructed me to assign you all dueling partners for the end of this unit," Flitwick continued. Marlene, Autumn, and I all shot each other a three-way look. Maybe Flitwick would allow a group of three? It was doubtful, but I crossed my fingers under my desk. "The partners are. . ." Flitwick grabbed a long scroll. "Bulstrode and Lestrange. Avery and Snape. Killick and Black."

"Sorry, Autumn," Marlene whispered to Autumn. Autumn wasn't paying attention to her; instead, she was locked in a glaring match with Black.

". . . McKinnon and Vance. Bones and Malfoy."

I shuddered. Lucius Malfoy was a well-known dueler who specialized in cursing others. In my opinion, he was a slimy git. But Amelia Bones was equally skilled, if not better. It seemed like more than half of these pairings were to make sure they murdered each other.

Flitwick flipped the scroll over. "Potter and Evans."

She froze. Oh. No. He. Didn't.

Someone please kill me right now. Flitwick stuck me with James Bloody Potter for this whole damn unit!

Marlene and Autumn gave me sympathetic glances. I wanted to find a good wall and smash my head against it.

"Right, everyone." Flitwick rolled up his scroll with a slapping sound as he finished off the last of the partners. "Find your partners, please."

I looked desperately around the room. Could I pretend to be sick? I mean, cramps could get you out of anything. . . couldn't they? If I looked ill enough, Flitwick would have to send me to the hospital wing.

"Hey, Evans!" Potter was somehow standing a few feet away from my desk, where I was currently in shock. "Evans?"

I put on my best "I'm-going-to-vomit" face and scrambled out of my seat. "Don't, Potter," I choked. "I think I might be—"

Potter peered at me over the edges of his glasses, messing up his hair. That one little gesture set me off again— to hell with being sick, I'd like to curse his hair off!

"All right, Evans?"

I debated. Maybe it would be a good idea to stay. . . If I was lucky, I could even get a few hexes in. If I ignored his obnoxious comments, then I'd live.

I dropped my vomiting façade and smiled angelically up at him. "All right, Potter?"

Potter looked taken aback by my change in demeanor. He grinned, dug his hand into his pocket, and began playing with his nicked Snitch again. My teeth ground together. Calm down, Lily, you'll get your chance soon enough.

"The first thing that you'll be doing with your partners is engaging in a mock duel so I can assess your skill level," squeaked Flitwick. Damn, he's actually mad.

A quick look around the room showed me that it looked like the Slytherin-Gryffindor partners were about ready to explode. Autumn and Black were both glowering at each other, and I imagined the jinxes they had planned for one another.

Potter's stupid voice broke me out of my thoughts. "Are we actually dueling each other?"

"What does it look like?" I snapped, already irritated. This was going to be a bad, bad year.

"Do you even want to?" pressed Potter, his eyes searching for mine. I stared at my feet.

The obnoxious little git, I thought. He'd hit a nice chord in me. The truth was, I really didn't want to. Because I had a rather unfortunate quiz in Transfiguration (next class, go figure!) that I was in desperate need to study for. But on the other hand: a chance to kick James Potter's arse? Sign me up.

I readied my wand as Flitwick counted down. "Potter, why wouldn't I want to cause you humiliation?"

Something flickered in Potter's eyes, and then he snarled, "Want revenge for your slimy Slytherin sn—"

"—two, one!" finished Flitwick. Everyone froze for a second, and then it all exploded.

"Petrificus Totalus!" I heard Autumn scream. Black dodged her, barking out a mingled stream of swear words and laughter. It wasn't until she caught him with Densaugeo and his teeth had grown down to his collar that he jerked upwards with a snarl.

Beside me, Amelia Bones and Lucius Malfoy's duel had gone from petty to downright dangerous. A cloud of small yellow birds slammed into the wall above Potter's head and I laughed myself silly as he spit feathers everywhere.

Emmaline Vance was leaping daintily out of Marlene's jinxes, trying to keep her coiffed blonde hair in place while firing spells every which way. Marlene stiffened as a jet of light slammed into her arm and red, angry-looking boils began to sprout everywhere.

The room was full of light and shouts of defeat, rage, and victory. Professor Flitwick was squeaking something inaudible, and over all of this I heard, "Don't worry, Evans, I'll go easy on you!"

Bloody Potter. How dare he? This little comment decided my mind. Potter was such a. . . arse! I hated him. "Flipendo!" I yelled. Potter was still shouting something about "going easy" as the spell hit him. And fine, I'll admit it, it was satisfying as hell to watch Potter flip backwards.

"I thought you loved me, Evans!" Potter smirked at me as he pushed himself to his feet. On the other side of the room, Autumn had just Disarmed Black. I cheered silently for her.

"What are you, delusional?" I snapped as loudly as I could. "I don't love you, you toerag! You're a big-headed prat who hasn't a lock nor key for his damn ego! Engorgio!" I pointed my wand at his head, increasing the intensity of the charm as his head started to swell rapidly.

"Expelliarmus!" Potter tried witlessly.

"Protego!" The charm ricocheted off my shield speeding towards Potter. In all, the mindless idiot Disarmed himself. I leapt into the air and caught his wand with a triumphant smirk.

"Aw, you got me," Potter pouted over the noisy racket assaulting our ears. His head continued to swell. "Always knew you had it in you, Evans."

My eye caught Sev's over the duelers. I raised Potter's wand. Sev's gaze darted past me until it fastened onto Potter's (now huge) head and we shared a laugh.

"Sonorus," Flitwick squeaked. His voice magnified. "STOP!"

All of us froze. Flitwick undid the spell and his voice reverted to normal. "Hospital Wing, now, please. If you have won your duel, House Points will be awarded. Please raise your hand if you have won."

I surveyed the room. Autumn had her hand raised high, her chin set proudly. Black was staring daggers and something else at her as he walked oddly out the door. Malfoy had his hand up; Amelia Bones was passed out in a corner. The two Slytherins, Violette Bulstrode and Rabastian Lestrange were both limping off to the Hospital Wing. Severus, who had been versus Avery, had lost. And curiously enough, Emmaline Vance had won her and Marlene's duel.

"Ten points to Gryffindor. . . Ten to Slytherin. . . Ten to Gryffindor. . ." Flitwick went around the classroom distributing out House Points. I thought of the crimson rubies falling into the Gryffindor hourglass and grinned. "All right, class dismissed!" called Flitwick. "Remember, these are your dueling partners for this whole unit. See you next class!"

Okay, I know this WAS NOT the greatest chapter, but I wanted to put something up. . . Thoughts? Yes? No? Sorta? Also, the OC, Autumn Killick, came to be after Soaking In The Reign asked to be an OC. Cool stuff!

Read, review, follow, favorite pretty please? :-P Tell me what you think!