Here We Go Again

Chapter 4: The Development

POV: Lily

I didn't get it before, this obsession with bodies. They were just that—bodies. Skin and bones. If you were living and breathing, then they were serving their purpose, weren't they? To keep you standing on your feet, to help your soul navigate the world around you. I mean, of course I noticed differences in bodies, but the distinctions I saw weren't in shapes. I saw scars, freckles, tattoos, and missing limbs. 

I saw the silver scars that covered Dad's hands. I must not tell lies. I saw the famous one on his forehead, the lightening bolt that made him the Chosen One, that made his childhood be covered in blood, battle, and loss. I saw the less known ones, the ones scattered on his arms, cheeks, legs, and back, all little souvenirs from a war he fought and won. I even saw the ones that were invisible, the ones that hid inside his head. I could hear him screaming himself awake, see the emerald in his eyes become glossy with distance, feel the squeeze he gave my hand when we were in crowds like he was waiting for someone to take me from him. 

I saw the varying shades of freckles across Mum's cheeks. When I was a little girl, I used to count them. She would lay right beside me on my small bed, murmuring a lullaby in hopes I would drift to sleep. I never stayed awake long enough to count them all. Her Weasley trait. I marveled in their warmth whenever counting family scars terrified me that there ever was a time when people wanted them dead.

I saw the intricate tattoos that took up Teddy's back. In twirls, jagged edges, curves, and lines, they told his history. I used to call them pretty and my brother would say, 'yeah, my mum really was'. Innocence blinded me back then from understanding that he always carried the weight of what he lost  on his back, always reminding him of what could have been. Later in my childhood, I saw the haunting tattoo branded on Mr. Malfoy's forearm. In blotchy, scarred lines of black and russet, it told his greatest mistake. I used to call it terrifying and Mr. Malfoy would say, 'yeah, I really was'. Innocence blinded me back then from understanding the red, haggard lines among the black were not a part of the tattoo, rather the skin he had sliced when he tried to cut out the mark from his body.  

I saw Uncle George's missing ear. When we were younger, curious and unrestrained, we used to ask questions about it, and he'd laugh so loud the ground would shake, making jokes that we did not always understand. The adults chuckled along with him, entertaining us when he'd say, 'just call me Saint George because I'm hole-y'. When we got older, perceptive and learning restrain, we never pointed out his missing piece because we understood it wasn't an ear he was still mourning for but a brother. 

Then, years later, something happened and I wasn't just looking at the scar I got on my knee from when I jumped off Buckbeak, or the stray freckless on my nose that were prominent in summer, or the small patch of skin on my ankle I used to draw a stag on in hopes one day it will be a permanent tattoo, or the fingers I was so grateful I still had after I stole a sickle from Mum's purse and she threatened to cut all ten off if I ever took something that was not mine. I was seeing my body as something more than a vessel meant to transport my soul.

I was seeing my shape, my hair, my eyes, my skin. And none of it was perfect.

"What are you doing?" 

I turned away from the mirror in front of me, looking behind my shoulder to find Lucy frowning at me from the doorway. 

"Getting dressed," I told her.

She raised a dark, red brow at me. "Might have escaped your noticed, Lily, but in order to get dressed you have to have clothes. You're currently stark naked."

I looked back to the mirror, copying her frown, but directing it at my reflection.  "It's not right."

"You having no respect for the other girls who share this dormitory with you? Yeah, I agree."

I put a hand on my stomach. "I shouldn't have snuck into the kitchens with Hugo last night."

"I agree." I looked at her through the glass. "You shouldn't be sneaking around past curfew. You've lost Gryffindor several points already because you do."

I rolled my eyes at her, but turned to my side, inspecting the view from that angle. "I had an entire feast at midnight, while you woke up at five this morning to go for a run with Harper." I narrowed my eyes at myself, feeling a growing hate for the reflection crawl up my throat. "Why does she even run? She's perfect."

I was turning to my other side when the mirror disappeared. I looked back at Lucy, she had her wand out and her annoyed expression on. "Enough with your obsession with Nia—"

"I'm not obsessed," I clarified immediately. "I'm just trying really hard to understand how someone can possibly look like she does. You're suddenly friends with her, Luce, tell me, is it a potion? Or did she pay someone to enchant her?"

Lucy Accio'ed my robes and uniform from inside my closet, throwing them at me. "She runs because it helps her distress, which in turn allows her to stay in shape. If you feel the need to be in shape, then wake up early and have a run with us."

I scoffed, slipping on my underwear before pulling on my skirt. "Do you two actually get any running in? Because Harper tends to attract a long line of stupid, lustful tossers everywhere she goes. Usually with Lorcan at the front."

"Lorcan and Nia are just friends—they are," she stressed when I let out a loud laugh. "Merlin, I don't understand why you're so intent on disliking her. She isn't going to steal Greengrass from you, Lily. So get over it already."

I stopped buttoning up my shirt to take a step toward her, my brows furrowing. "What the hell's got your wand in a knot? Since when does my bashing Harper bother you? Fuck sakes, Luce, don't tell me you fancy her because I honestly could not—"

"I do not fancy her," she retaliated with a rolling of her eyes, too. "She's my friend. And I'm just sick of hearing you hate her for something she's never done."

"I'm your best friend," I reminded her a little too loudly, "and your family. Don't forget that."

"So, what? I'm not allowed to have other friends now? Like I said, get over it, Lily. And yourself, too, while you're at it."  She moved past me, heading for her four-poster. She was about to open her trunk, no doubt looking for a book, when she turned back to me and said, "You want to know why I've started spending more time with Nia? Because I'm tired of hearing you talk about your boyfriend and how angry you are that he won't stick his hand under your skirt. There are more things to life than that."

"How the hell would you know?" I countered. "You spend your days with your nose stuck in a book to even notice that life is happening all around you. And don't expect me to apologize for having a boyfriend just because you haven't been able to get one yourself. Let me worry about who goes under my skirt because you definitely need to be worrying about your shitty personality—or lack thereof."

"I can say the same about your sensibility," Lucy returned through clenched teeth, her brown eyes a shade darker than they previously were. "Then again, stupid, fanciful girls don't have any."

"Careful, Luce," I hissed as I reached for my shoes, "your Uncle Percy is showing. Bitterness and all."

She raised her wand at me, but I was already stomping out of our dormitory to even care how her hand shook and her eyes welled up with tears at my words.

X

They say that the first few days of a new term was the most difficult. They say that it takes up to three days to adjust to the pace of school and its works after weeks of being off in holiday, sleeping in, and running about without much responsibility. However, whoever had been spewing such nonsense was a proper tosser because they hadn't the foggiest about what they were talking about.

It had been two and a half weeks now since our return to Hogwarts and the pace of my schedule, the intense lessons that seem to get heavier every bloody year, was butchering me. My brain was completely fried, my eyes stung, and my fingers were sore from writing so damn much. And not to mention we were only halfway done with the school-day.

"Oh, ease up," Hugo laughed from my right side. "You've had all the easy classes so far."

"Double Potions is not easy," I snapped at him, putting my head on his shoulder as we continued to walk.

He put an arm around my waist. "It is when you're hatching up plans for world domination." I looked up at him and gave him a puzzled look. "And, of course, I'm a Potions genius. I don't know what Dad's been complaining about, having Rose date Malfoy and all. Ever since then, Mister Malfoy has been giving me extra lessons on the subject. Says I'm a natural."

"Does Uncle Ron know of these little lessons with his childhood nemesis?"

The Ravenclaw snorted. "Of course not, Mum refuses to tell Dad about it. But to tell you the truth, Lils, I rather it stay that way. Mister Malfoy is always in a better mood and the lessons are light since he enjoys the fact that Dad's been tricked. He's actually quite a funny person, you know?"

"What's your sudden interest in Potions, anyway?" I asked him. "That, and Transfiguration too. You're a brilliant student, my little Ravenclaw, but now more than ever you're hardcore about the subjects. I know you're up to something."

Hugo looked down at me with his blue eyes. They were sparkling with the mischief that tended to live in a Weasley boy's eyes.

"You are up to something," I said excitedly as I removed my head from his shoulders. I halted him on our way towards our History of Magic lesson. This was the excitement I needed to spruce up my boring day. "Come on, Hugo; fess up. You're up to something—or you're dating someone! Which one is it? Either case, I just need something fun to keep me going."

"My, you live a sad, little pathetic life, don't you?" He reached over at patted my head like a puppy. "And what if it's both?"

"It's always both with you," I replied, smirking at my double-meaning.

Catching that, my brilliant cousin laughed loudly. "Touche," he said. "But I'm afraid I have both under wraps, my darling Lily Luna Potter. A boy never kisses and tells; nor does he tell his bored cousin about his next big adventure."

"No fair." I pouted. "It's between you and your damn Ravenclaws, isn't it? And, oi, I tell you about my kisses."

He patted my head again, looking at me with amused sympathy. "No Gryffindors allowed, I'm sorry." His smirk contradicted his apology. "And, Lils, your kiss-and-tells are just kisses, sweetheart. There's nothing exciting about that."

My curiosity was instantly killed and replaced with anger. Hugo was a second away from facing my wrath, had it not been for the footsteps I heard and the sound of my name being echoed around the corridor I was standing in with my cousin.

Turning and appearing was a tall, kind-faced man with a small boy attached to his hand. "I hope I'm not interrupting an important conversation."

"Of course not," I told the man. "You interrupted Hugo's murder, Neville; so if anything, he owes you his life and me my freedom." Professor Longbottom smiled at me, but I ignored his gesture when I noticed that his First Year son was shedding tears and trying to hide behind his father's robes.

Noticing where I was looking at, Neville looked down at his son with sympathetic eyes and a gentle expression. "It seems Frankie offended a few Third Year Hufflepuffs when he was practicing a few spells and accidentally aimed one at the group."

Professor Longbottom nudged his son lightly, pulling him away from behind him so he stood in his own stance. And as little Frankie Longbottom came to full view, I saw that his nose was bruised, slightly crooked, and bleeding from the nostrils. "Those little—"

"Language, Lily," the professor interrupted me before I tainted his son's ears with my foul curses. "Besides, your cousin Artie already took care of the situation with that Weasley gusto you lot have. Which explains why the excuse he used when explaining the situation to the Headmistress was that he was just trying to see how products from the shop worked against enemies."

As I headed towards Frankie, I felt pride swell in my bones for Artie. He was the truest Weasley at heart, honestly. (And that was saying a lot from an offspring of Uncle Percy's.) Reaching the boy's face with my fingers, I wiped away his fallen tears and gave him a smile. "Someone has to start discrediting the stereotype that suggests that Hufflepuffs are gentle." I looked up at the professor. "Your daughter included, Neville."

The professor grinned and Hugo groaned from the background. "Oh, this is just great. He was doing so well."

"I'm sure Artie will get off the hook. He always manages to—"

"No, no," my cousin interrupted me. "I mean Uncle George. McGonagall had warned him about his products conflicting with student behavior."

Ruffling Frankie's hair, I said to him, "cheer up now, Frank. Hufflepuff is going to get what's coming to them. You mark my words, us Gryffindors stick together." The boy tried to smile at me, though rather embarrassed, and I glanced back at his father when I remembered that the man had called out for me. (And I doubt it was to come up with a plan to defend his boy from some Third Years.) "Was there anything you wanted me to do, Neville?"

"Actually, yes. I have a class I need to go substitute for right now, which I'm already late for, and I need him to pay a visit to the Hospital Wing. Think you can take him for me?"

I nodded my head and took his son's hand from him. "Sure thing, Professor."

"I owe you win, Lils." Neville ruffled my red hair in gratitude, and bent down to kiss his son's forehead. "Alright, Hugo, come with me. You're already five minutes late, and I can manage to spare you from Binn's detention."

And just like that, Professor Longbottom and Hugo headed off together.

When I heard a sniffle behind me, I turned away from the retreating figures to the small First Year. "You okay, Frankie?" I bent slightly towards him, gently removing his hands from his nose. "You must've put up a good fight if you escaped with only a bloody nose."

"They broke it first and then levitated me upside down," he told me with more embarrassment. "If Artie hadn't arrive they would've pulled down my pants."

I grimaced at the humiliating scene and he started shedding more tears. "Oh, it's alright, Frankie. You're a First Year, no one really expects you to know advanced spells like those idiots. But they'll get it, you watch."

"Yeah, but I'm a Gryffindor," he said sadly. "I should be brave. I shouldn't have let them—"

"That's the thing about Gryffindors, though, Frankie," I interrupted him. "We're not all about bravery and rubbish attitude. We're also loyal and just. And since you were sorted into Gryffindor, that makes you a true one at heart. Your courage is in there, kid, and it'll show up eventually."

Looking up at me with giant, hopeful eyes, the boy smiled at me. "Really, Lily?"

"Really," I confirmed. "And it's a good thing you have us crazy Weasleys to protect you, right? We'll be right there to cheer you on when you break out of your shell." And reaching for the cleanest hand, which was not as covered with dried blood from his nose, I said, "come, let's go get you all fixed up."

But as it was accustomed to be halted from important things, I heard familiar voices bounce off the corridor's walls. It was Louis, Freddie, and Liam.

"—It was your fault, prat!

"—My fault?"

"—Yes!" Their footsteps were loud, hinting that they were getting closer.

"Both of you, shut it!" Louis was the one speaking now. "We need to come up with a well-rehearsed plan, Freddie! You know Professor Rickman is always a pain in the ass when we arrive a few minutes late."

"You think you have a problem?" Ah, there it was. My man's turn to throw a hissy-fit. "I have Transfiguration, and McGonagall is subbing again!"

And the moment that the three figures came into my line of view, I crossed my arms over my chest and looked at them like they had just been caught red-handed. And by the obvious packages of Uncle George's products they each carried, they really were just caught with their hands in the cookie-jar.

"Well, well," I started, a little leer on my face. "It seems like the three of you have bigger problems than being late. Mcgonagall already knows about the new products and she's looking for the culprit that's been handing them out."

Louis scoffed, looking like he didn't believe a single word I said. He knew perfectly well that I liked to stir up trouble for them. "Shouldn't you be in class?"

I ignored the part Veela git. "Liam, why do you always have to join them? You know they aren't any good."

Caught in between the redhead and the blonde, the brunette boy smiled sheepishly at me. "James was unavailable so they asked for my help."

"Oi, hold it there." Raising a free hand in the air, Freddie waved it about to gather attention. "Before you two go off on a lovey-dovey rant, how the hell does the Headmistress know about Dad's new products? They just arrived today. We haven't put them up for display yet."

"Artie," I said to him, pulling little Frankie Longbottom in front of me so they could see the damage.

Louis cursed our youngest cousin, mumbling to kick the boy's ass. "He didn't use them against you did he, Frank?" He asked as he inspected the mess the First Year's face was.

Frankie shook his head. "No, but Artie used them against these Third Year Hufflepuffs that broke my nose."

The three older Gryffindor boys winced as the boy showed them his broken nose fully, tilting his head back so they could see the dislocated bone and the blood.

"Well, guess that leaves Artie off the hook."

"And it leaves us off the hook too," Louis added soon after Freddie's thought. He snapped his fingers, his smirk suggesting he had just thought of something thoroughly brilliant to help their scheme. "Alright, Frank, we're going to take you to the Hospital Wing. That way we'll get a slip from Madam Pomfrey that will let Rickman know we were assisting, and we'll just tell the old bat that your dad sent us. It's brilliant!"

Frankie nodded excitedly. I sighed. Boys will be boys, right? "Make sure they fix him up," I told my cousins sternly as I handed the First Year to them. "And don't give him any of those products, he's too young still. And not to mention Neville will kill you."

"Yeah, yeah," Freddie waved me off. "Come, Greengrass. We can get you an excuse—"

"No, no, no." Slapping away my redheaded cousin's hold on my boyfriend's arm, I pulled Liam to me and frowned at Freddie. "He stays with me. You two are such bad influences on him that I swear he'll be the one who gets blamed for everything."

Louis motioned Freddie and Frankie to take the lead, staying behind and frowning at me back. "Oi, Greengrass," but then he turned his irritated blue eyes towards my brunette boyfriend. "You say your goodbyes and you make sure my little cousin heads to class. If I find out you took this moment to run your slimy hands over her, you'll die a painful death."

"I'm not—" Punch.

"See you later, lads," was what Louis said after he so rudely punched Liam's arm. He proceeded to walk away in all his swagger, whistling nonchalantly and fading away from the corridor.

Glaring at the empty corridor, I turned back to the older boy. "Why do you always let them push you around like that?"

"They're not pushing me around," he replied as he took a few steps closer to me. "They're just protective, and I get that. Besides, it's in my best interests to get along with your family, Lily. It's better to have them on your side than against you."

I shook my head and didn't comment on that in that instant. Instead, I took the next second to wrap my arms around his neck, reeling him towards me, and letting the absolute feeling of love overwhelm me. "It doesn't matter what they think," I finally replied. "I'm the one in the relationship with you, not them. Focus on me."

A smile tugged at his lips for a moment, and in the next he pressed his forehead against mine; having to bend a few inches down to do so. "I know it's frustrating, but they mean good, Lils. They are your family, after all. And, like I said, I understand that they want to protect you. That doesn't offend me."

"But it offends me," I whispered. I didn't give him a chance to comment on that as I swallowed his reply when I pressed my lips to his. I pulled him closer to my body, tightening the hold I had around his neck and flushing him a few centimeters more. With skilled hands, I managed to snake my fingers through his brown hair and tug at the ends of it. And from that, I was given a throaty groan from him.

I could feel his frantic heartbeat, his pulse quicken, and his blood rush faster against my skin. Letting out a shaky breath at his body's reaction, I moved my mouth to his neck and started to lightly nibble on the skin, then running my tongue over it.

He copied me and let out a trembling sigh. He was starting to lose his composure, I knew, as his hands squeezed my waist a little too tightly; his fingers denting into me. A rush surged through my body at the flash of possessiveness in him, making me moan and not being absolutely embarrassed about it.

And it was due to that strange flicker of possessiveness in him that caused me more delicious surprise when Liam captured my lips with his, and his own fingers found the way to my red hair and gripped without the gentleness he always used on me when we kissed.

Unaware of myself, an almost animalistic sense took over me as I hooked my right leg over his hip. I brought him in closer, ending the space I didn't even know was still left to close. But I felt him, I felt him closer. My pulse was quickening too, especially when he groaned into my mouth and lifted me off the ground completely. His hands were now clutching the back of my thighs, touching my bare skin there due to my school-skirt.

I smirked into his mouth when I felt my back collide with whatever wall he'd chosen. He was always careful with me, always nothing but light pecks on the mouth, that I felt like I was winning something here. As such, I dared myself to move my fingers from his hair and hurriedly run my fingertips over the thin material of his button-up shirt.

I made a trail down his chest, on his flat abdomen, wishing that I was kissing that pathway instead. My fingers passed his bellybutton, and then they were hooked at the waistline of his trousers. Without a second thought, I tugged the ends of his shirt from their neatly tucked place. I bit his bottom lip as my fingers now felt his skin. And next, I reached for the waistband of his trousers again, my hands already trying to disappear inside.

"Stop!" The soles of my shoes slapped against the corridor floor, making me stumble and almost hit the floor face-flat.

As Liam backed away from me, breathing heavily, shaking his head like something awful had just happened, I glared intently at him. "What the hell was that!"

"I can't, Lily," he murmured, still breathing in and out like he'd run a marathon. His face was flushed, and his hair was in disarray due to my pesky fingers.

"Can't do what, Liam?" I snapped, adjusting my robes and skirt with fury. "You can't be a proper boyfriend? You can't touch me? Every couple does it, for Merlin's sake! It's not the end of the fucking world because we progress from hand-holding and kisses on the cheek!"

Liam sighed, but didn't say anything as he tucked his shirt back into his pants and then reached for his disregarded schoolbag on the floor. "I just don't want to move so fast, alright?" He looked at me in what he wanted to be as reassurance. "I love you, Lily, I do. And I definitely don't mind...I want to touch you, Lily. I do want to do everything with you and just give in, but I can't. You're too young at the moment and I'd feel like I'm taking advantage of that."

"Oh, fuck you!" I hissed at him. "Don't you dare give me that 'too young' rubbish, Liam! You say you don't want to take advantage, and that's sweet, but I want you to! I want you, damn it!"

My boyfriend's face looked sympathetic, a little tortured, but he was working on pulling on that calm expression that was always present on him. "I'll see you at dinner, okay?" He said in a light tone, backing away from me already. There was a half-smile on his face, and before he could turn completely from me, he said, "I love you."

Seething at his retreating figure, I felt deep hatred pool in my stomach. I was not a little fucking girl. And I was growing tired of everyone treating me as such. Didn't they see me? Didn't they see that I was a woman now?

Well, if they didn't, I was going to show them...