AN: Hello there, lovelies! I know I haven't written in forever. Forgive me. I've always wanted to write a multichapter Harry Potter fic, and have now acquired the inspiration to do so. You'll find that parts of the writing will resemble The Book Thief. These elements are Zusak-inspired, so all credit goes to him there. The cover picture is done by Viria, queen of all fanart.

Without further ado…

Disclaimer: Jo Ro owns all. I own nothing.

Matters of the Heart and Mind

Prologue

"Love me or hate me, both are in my favor. If you love me, I will always be in your heart; if you hate me, I will always be in your mind." –Unknown

There was not much to be said about the Day of Firsts. The sky was not particularly bright, and the air was rather humid. The train broke down once. She had forgotten her red scarf, the once that made her cheeks appear rosy. He, of course, did not notice. He didn't notice her at all, really; it was the greasy companion that drew his hazel eyes over to the other end of the compartment, tugging his dark eyebrows up his forehead.

They made eye contact once. She was straightening her shoulders with all the dignity of a disparaging eleven year old, frostily notifying her cohort that the next compartment down might contain more preferable company. She looked away first. And he laughed when she left.

And that was that.

An observation about fate:

It doesn't call much attention to itself.

Lily Amelia Evans didn't call much attention to herself, either—no— her hair did all the work for her. Shining rivulets of red swished to and fro behind her shoulders. Reader, they were the loveliest locks you had ever seen. The grandest bit of all? Lily Amelia Evans didn't know it.

Her companion, however, certainly did. You remember him, don't you? The bloke from the train compartment? He was called was Severus Stanislav Snape, and he bore the name like a curse. The world simply called him Snape, but Lily was hardly the world. No, Lily Amelia Evans was something entirely different.

A note about the Day of Firsts:

There were actually two days,

if you counted November 15th, 1971, too

(Like James Potter did).

So let's skip ahead, reader, to that second fateful day: November 15th, 1971. For this is why you are here, are you not— to hear about the love story of Lily Amelia Evans and James Jonathan Potter? A fair warning: it is not what you expect. There are several years of denial, a good deal of tedious bantering, and a severe lack of kisses in the rain. But bear with me. I promise, it is a love story worth telling.

But where was I? November 15th, 1971.

Lily wasn't frightened of Rebecca Lee Rollin. The girl wore her scowl like Lily wore her favorite scarf: delicately. It played gently across her countenance, not marring her features but giving her face a sort of fierceness rarely found in a child.

And Lily admired it. She grabbed the bed post with one hand and swung her body around until she was nose to nose with her hostile roommate. "Come on, Bex," she grinned. "I know you like it."

"Nicknames are impractical," Rebecca Lee Rollin replied, folding a shirt on her bed. "I was given a name; why use another?"

"Because it creates a tie between the nicknamer and nicknamee. Displays affection, seals a bond."

"Right," "Bex" muttered, tugging on a stocking, "and what sort of bond could I possibly have with you— a girl I have known for about two months?"

Lily just smiled again.

On Lily Amelia Evans:

She loved games, especially challenging ones.

And befriending the unfriendly

was the greatest game of all.

This explained why Lily was in such a bright mood as she headed to the Great Hall, a reluctant but amused Bex at her side.

"You haveto meet Severus now," she insisted, orange curls bobbing as she scanned the corridor.

"The Slytherin boy?"

"Yes. Please reserve judgment until you get to know him. He's just a bit…"

"Creepy?"

"No, quiet," Lily snapped. "This is my friend you're talking about here, my best friend. Believe it or not, you two have a bit in common."

"You better not be referring to looks," Bex muttered, tugging a black tendril of hair nervously.

"Be nice," she said, stifling back a giggle. And then all the mirth was knocked out of her short frame.

Someone wasn't being nice to Severus, not at all. James Potter was leaning against the wall, one hand in his pocket, one hand wrapped around his wand— which was pointed directly at Sev.

"I was trying to ignore you, Snivellus, but you keep insisting on insulting me. All that's going to do is drag me down to your level."

"What are you going to do, hex me?" spat Snape. "Don't flatter yourself, you snot-nosed prick. That would take skill. You think you're so talented, so funny and smart, but it's high time someone told you how idiotic you look, strutting about the castle like you own the place!"

"Sev, don't provoke him!" Lily shouted. She took a step towards the two, but Bex held her back.

"Don't do it, Lily. You'll only embarrass him," she said.

"What did you think?" Snape continued, scrunching his regrettably long nose in derision. "That you were special? Is that what your mum told you before you went to sleep each night, to keep you from pissing your bed? Well, let me tell you this, Potter, she was probably just as pompous and ugly as you are and—"

"How dare you!" Potter snarled, shoving Snape against the wall. "Insulting me is one thing, but if you insult my family I'll make you regret it." He turned to his friend, Sirius Black, who was watching the scene with crossed arms. "Sirius, what do you 'spose our friend Snivellus has got in his bag there?"

Potter snatched the pack off of Snape's shoulder and started rummaging through it lazily.

"What's this?" he asked, yanking a booklet out of the opening. "A diary? Where poor little Snivellus writes about her feelings?"

"Give that back," Snape growled. "Or I'll—"

"Go cry to your mummy?" Black crooned. He watched as Potter opened the journal, and Lily bit her lip, hard, because she knew what was inside.

"Drawings?" Potter hooted, incredulous. "Has no one told you that making pretty little pictures will not, in fact, make you pretty yourself?"

Snape's face was livid. He tried to slap the book, but Potter danced back. "Oh no, I'm nowhere near finished with this…"

Lily couldn't take it any longer. Yanking her arm out of Bex's grip, she marched up to the three and screamed with every bone in her small body, "Drop the book this very instant, Potter!"

"Oh look, Snivellus, your girlfriend's here to save your sorry, oily skin," Black crooned.

"I'm not his girlfriend," Lily said, still seeing red. "But I am his friend. And I won't put up with this childish pettiness a second longer!"

"Not his girlfriend, huh?" Potter said softly, flipping a journal page ostentatiously. "Then Snivellus just has a bit of a freaky crush, then?"

He ripped out the page, revealing a large drawing of Lily's own freckled face. Lily remembered the day clearly. She had weaved together a crown of flowers with magic and set it in her hair, claiming she was the queen of the fairies in a bout of silliness. And Severus had done a careful job of capturing every petal just right as he sketched her portrait, as she had requested.

It had been a lingering summer day, the kind that seemed to meander aimlessly through the ceaseless sunny hours, the kind that you folded into a deep crevice of your heart to remember during a dark time.

It had been a precious memory, and now James Potter was parading down the corridor with it over his head, laughing and ridiculing what had once been unspeakably sweet.

Lily swallowed a sticky lump that was rising in her throat. "I hate you," she whispered, but loud enough for Potter to hear. His eyes widened a bit, which gave her a kind of sick satisfaction. "That's right! I loathe you, James Potter, now and forever! Don't talk to me, or Severus, ever again!"

"Have it your way, Cherrytop. I'll be finished with our friend in just a moment."

"Cherrytop?" Lily said through clenched teeth.

"I thought you said nicknames sealed a bond," Bex deadpanned to her right.

"Not helping."

"Sorry."

Potter turned to the Snape, whose vein was now visible on his forehead. "You say I'm not talented enough to cast a spell, Snivellus? How I do love to prove people wrong."

He tore the remaining papers out of the notebook and thrust them into Black's hands. With a swish and flick of his wand, Potter enunciated, "Wingardium leviosa!"

The lovely sketches Lily had watched Severus labor over so meticulously soared out of Black's grasp, into the air, all across the corridor. A crowd of fellow first-years began to form now, as classes had just been let out, but Potter's concentration did not break. A dozen— two dozen— maybe three dozen drawings floated across the room, at least half of them picturing Lily. Lily frowning, Lily sighing, her head in her hands, her hands in the flowers, her eyes always somewhere else. And there were other sketches too— darker ones, of shrouded figures and shadows and snippets of night. She didn't understand. She had posed for one picture, only one…but Sev had made so many. And then there were the others. Sev had never let her seen those, he kept those to himself. Now everyone could see them.

"Let them down, Potter!" she yelled, bunching her fists together.

"As you wish." And with a drop of his wand, all the papers went flying across the corridor, into the eager hands of the students waiting below.

"You drew these, Snape?" McKenzie Forbes snorted. "All of these? Does your little friend know you're in bloody love with her?"

They all laughed at that, not kindly but harshly. Lily's hands were shaking as she regarded Potter, who was still reveling in the rain of sketches falling through the air. She glanced about desperately for Sev, but he had disappeared, as he was so good at doing. There was only one thing to do then.

She approached Potter in three large strides and punched him as hard as she could in the face. He doubled back in shock, blood pouring from his nose, with disbelief and pain and— awe on his face, but if he cried out, Lily did not notice. All she heard was a dull roar in her ears.

Reader, remember this moment.

The Second Day of Firsts:

The day Lily Amelia Evans fell in hate with James Jonathan Potter.

The day that James Jonathan Potter fell in love with Lily Amelia Evans.

Puppy love, perhaps, but love nonetheless; that's how he would describe it in the years to come. A shameful day, but a necessary one, as it marks the beginning of our tale— a story of hate and love, mind and heart, and the faintest sprinkling of fate.

Thanks for reading and reviewing.

Xoxo,

Jess