In life there are things that you can control: what you do, when you do it, and how you do it. And there are things you can't control: the weather, people, and the future. But there's a fine line between what you can and can't control. An event that occurs maybe once in a lifetime when two things of very different natures cross paths at the same time. Something so small, yet so powerful - enough to change the course of a life. An anomaly. A coincidence.

❁

Singing rings throughout the apartment in an off key rendition of Toxic by Britney Spears. Lily Evans rolls over in her bed, stuffing a pillow over her ears to drown out the horrendous noise. It alleviates the sound slightly, but not enough. She groans, forcing herself out of bed. The floorboards are ice when she steps on them from the nasty draft seeping through the window in her room. The heater has been broken since last December and the landlord still hasn't fixed it. Lily was certain that he never would.

The apartment is small, to say the least. And it doesn't help that her roommate was an absolute hoarder. Piles and piles of useless crap are stacked throughout the apartment that was about the size of a toaster oven.

Lily wraps a blanket over herself as she makes her way to the kitchen, which consists of a fridge, broken sink, and a handless cabinet. She shuffles through the narrow hallway when a cabinet shuts. The shower was still running, and Chrissy's singing could still be heard from miles away. Lily peers around the corner cautiously, sighing of relief when she sees Chrissy's late night guest rummaging around.

"Morning," Lily mumbles. She reaches down in a basket and tosses the guy a stack of coffee filters. "Here."

The blonde furrows his eyebrows, but none the less starts to brew a pot. "Thanks," he says.

"Who are you?"

"Tommy."

"I'm Lily." They share an uncomfortable look before going back to their activities. Lily opens the fridge, pulling out the creamer for Tommy. "Mind throwing this in the recycling bin when you're finished?" Tommy nods, and Lily wanders back down the hall unaffected. She stops outside of the bathroom, about to bang on the door when it's pulled open.

"Lily," Chrissy sneers.

"Number seventy-whatever is in the kitchen."

Chrissy rolls her eyes, shoving past the redhead. "At least I have a body count."

"At least I don't have an STD." Lily smirks when Chrissy storms away, walking into the bathroom.

Most mornings went like this. There's always a new guy in the apartment - sometimes they stay the night, sometimes they dip around three am. It's a gamble Lily had come to know after the first few months living with Chrissy.

The two year lease didn't seem awful at first - especially when the apartment was seemingly empty and spacious. Lily's older sister, Petunia, had introduced her to Chrissy and insisted that they would be a good fit. Of course, what was she to expect from Petunia. Chrissy was two years older than Lily, and an aspiring Broadway star. Every morning she can be heard singing some sort of song at the top her lungs, belting out notes in keys Lily didn't even know existed. She loves to keep everything from tea cups and hats to jars of buttons scattered about the place. Everything would one day sell for thousands when she makes her "big break."

Lily keeps to herself, for the most part. Her room is the smaller of the two, with one window and a bed consisting of two mattresses stacked on top of each other. The floor is almost always covered in a paint stained tarp, and the only extra space is taken by two easels. Her artwork litters the wall space, a mixture of finished and unfinished pieces, alongside photos of inspiration.

Cold water splatters against Lily's hand as she takes a temperature test. It's chilling, but slightly warmer than normal, which Lily was grateful for. Chrissy always got the hot water because she insisted that it helped her vocals. So for the past two years Lily had grown to accept cold showers. Even in the dead of winter.

Afterwards, Lily throws on at least three layers - a t-shirt, sweater, and sweatshirt - before hurrying out the door. She hikes her bag over her shoulder and squeezes past Chrissy's bike to get out. The apartment complex is only three stories with a newlywed couple below them and the landlord above them. She hurries down the stairs and out the main door to be greeted by a bitter breeze. Dead ivy vines cling to the aging brick building, rustling around in the wind.

Digging through her bag, she pulls out a knit white hat and tugs it on. The L is only a few blocks away by foot, but most mornings Lily takes a detour to pay visit to her favorite coffee shop in Wrigleyville: Padfoot's.

The aroma of coffee wafts between the walls of Padfoot's. It is always bustling with college students during the school year, and tourists in the summertime. It's small, with a handful of tables and mismatched chairs, lined with artwork of all sorts. The house dog, Snuffles, lays on the bay window at the front of the shop watching as customers flow in and out while the Beatles play softly in the back behind the murmurs of conversation. Lily often finds herself cooped up in the small shop before and after classes.

The owner is a young student like herself, but wealthy to a point which Lily could only dream of. Rumors circulate about the lavish 22 year old: he's roguishly handsome, wears expensive clothes, and is quite the ladies man. Of course, they were only rumors. Lily has never seen him in person, for he was hardly ever at his own shop. She isn't even sure if he really exists.

Lily's eyes meet the barista's. They're a light amber, almost honey, that could melt anybody's heart with one look; he has the type of demeanor you could trust without knowing why. He stands in his usual attire with a maroon apron over his clothes stuffed with extra straws and a snack for when he gets hungry during shifts. Since moving, Lily had come to know him quite well due to her frequent visits. In fact, she would consider him one of her closest friends in the city.

The cling of the cash register sounds as he shuts it with his hips, handing a woman a dog tag with a number. Lily steps up in line when he puts a hot latte in front of her. She raises a suspicious eyebrow and scoots it away. "Nice try Remus," she says.

Remus sighs, turning around and grabbing a pre-made iced coffee from behind the counter. "You know, one day you'll realize that hot coffee is just as good as cold," he tells her.

"Remus, if you ever see me drinking hot coffee, I've been kidnapped and that's my doppelgänger." Lily pulls out three dollars and forty cents exactly in exchange, taking the drink and moving to the bar top. She sits on the stool, swirling around her straw. The milk sifts through the cubes of ice delicately in swirls of white until the liquids fuse together in a milky fawn color.

"That'll be five seventy-four," Remus tells the succeeding customer. "Here's your number." He hands the dog tag to the young man and walks over to Lily. "I swear these orders get crazier and crazier. Who would ever drink a hot matcha latte with half coconut milk and almond milk poured over ice with a cinnamon stick and a shot of espresso?"

Lily chuckles, watching as the previous guy wanders around in search of an empty table. "Did he tip you?"

"Yeah, that twenty-six cents he didn't want back really makes me feel rich." Remus grabs a mug from the rack and begins making the obscure order. "So how's the apartment search going?"

"Not well," Lily admits. "Mrs. Lampley has been piling on a lot of assignments so now I have no time to look. I think I'll have to sign the lease for another two years with Cruella."

"Chrissy isn't that bad." Lily raises her eyebrows and Remus shrugs. "Okay, so maybe she is that bad. If you need a place you can always crash at mine."

"I appreciate the offer, but you and Peter share a breadbox. I can't crowd you anymore with my art junk."

Remus nods understandingly. "What if I told you that I knew a certain person who just so happens to be in need of a roommate?" Lily's eyes widen, her interest peaking. "I don't know if you'd be interested...it's only a few blocks from here and he's asking for eight hundred."

"Remus, please tell me you're being serious!" Remus can't withhold his smile any longer. "Thank you, thank you!" Lily jumps from her seat, bouncing with excitement. "When can I see it?"

"I can take you later today if you're available."

"That would be absolutely amazing!" Lily grabs her bag, checking her phone quickly for the time. "I'll come here straight after classes! Bye Remus!"

"Bye!" Remus waves her off, grimacing as he pours the hot latte over ice as instructed by the customer.

Lily pulls open the door, bracing herself for the merciless weather, and hastily makes her way to the L. Somebody brushes past her, knocking her off balance. She bumps into the wall as all the contents of her bag spill onto the ground. "Watch it!" she mutters. The dark haired guy walks into Padfoot's without a glance back. "Asshole..." She bends down, gathering her things when crowds pass by, trampling over her work and littering it across the sidewalk. "No, no no! Dammit!"

Her most recent assignment is scuffed over with bits of rock and dirt. She shoves it into her bag, pushing the anxiety building in her head away to make the train on time. She grabs the first seat available on the L, running her hands through her hair nervously thinking, Professor McGonagall is going to kill me...