Fourth Year
I want a better body. I want better skin. I want to be perfect like all your other friends. You look so pretty, pretty like the wind. -Black Friday/ Tom Odell
Lily knew she wasn’t pretty.
She knew she wasn’t anyone’s dream girl.
She knew she was too fat, too bossy, too bitchy.
But still, James Potter wouldn’t leave her alone.
And she hated him.
It had to be a joke, probably something he dreamed up himself, to make fun of the nerdy, ginger girl, with too many freckles and too wide thighs.
Lily Evans may have acted like she was better than others, she may have had witty comebacks and a fiery attitude, but she knew it was all a lie.
Sometimes she wished she was enough to be liked.
Sometimes, she let herself believe, just for a moment, that James Potter really was in love with her.
Sometimes, Lily thought she might be in love with someone too.
Someone with eyes so dark they were like pools of endless deep, that she longed to fall into; someone with smooth, dark skin, so perfect that Lily wanted to run her hands over it, feel what it would be like to look so beautiful; someone who Lily wanted so badly, in those times she let herself want, that it threated to eat her whole.
Someone who belonged to someone else.