"Lily, wake up."

I cracked my eyes open and groaned, rubbing away the sleep as I spied my sister standing just inside my room; hand on hip, she looked at her surroundings distastefully. I turned to face away from her, grumbling incoherently and shutting my eyes a little tighter.

"Lily, I said get up!"

I winced in response to her annoying voice, and growled slightly, trying to block out the noise and return to my dream. I sunbathed happily in my coconut bikini top, listening to the pleasant lull of the waves and smelling the ocean. Content, I smiled, eyes flashing with images of an unexplored Caribbean island, just beyond my reach.

"Lily!"

I jumped at the loud voice just in my ear, and groaned grumpily as I felt Petunia push me towards the edge of my bed impatiently.

"Get up! Dad's going to be back in less than half an hour, and he said we should both be ready by then!"

"Dad?" I grumbled in confusion, peering up at my sister as she scowled down at me.

"Yes! We're meeting that woman today," Disgust lingered in her voice, and I felt my slight headache pick up its tempo.

"Oh, no, forget it," I breathed, pulling the blanket over my head as she opened the curtains and light poured into the room. "I won't get up for her, it's way too early."

"Lily, it is already eleven," Petunia snapped, trying to tug the blanket from my death grip. "You act like I want to meet this… this freak girlfriend of his."

I winced at the word that was normally shot at me with such distain, and suddenly basked in this moment. Petunia hadn't talked to me like this since long before our mother died and I was accepted to Hogwarts; it was amazing to feel like she recognized me as her sister, if only for a moment.

Ever since I had received my acceptance letter, she had been terrible to me. She called me a freak on the off-chance she didn't ignore my presence completely, and had a good laugh about my weirdness with her snobby friends. As the years past and I left for my 'freak-school', our friendship dwindled, before disappearing completely.

Midway through my forth year at Hogwarts, I received news that mum had passed. Two summers ago she had been diagnosed with cancer, and we had slowly been losing her since. It was terrible, watching the life drain out of her slowly. The experience made Petunia hate me all the more, but whether it was because I wasn't there or because she just wanted to channel her anger somewhere, I was unsure.

This last year, though, she had been corresponding with me while I was at school, sending me short and annoyed updates on dad. He had found a girlfriend, and Petunia said she'd heard him say he was in love. She thought it was dreadful, and I agreed. Was he replacing mum? What was he going to do next – replace us?

Once I got home, he sat us down and told us they were getting married. Scratch that, they were married. Obviously, they had gone to an office and signed some papers to get it over with, but they were still planning on having a small wedding with family friends. How romantic were they? Signing some papers and saying "Yay, we are married!" Merlin, they make me sick.

But this was what brought me and Petunia together again. Our mutual distain for dads new wife – our stepmother – though we had yet to meet her, it was pre-decided that we hated her. No one could replace our mother, and who was she to try? And, even worse for Petunia, she was a witch. Dad had met her when dropping me off at Platform 9 and 3/4, which meant (and this was the worst of it) we were going to get a new step-brother. Dad had yet to say any names, but just the knowledge was terrible. What if it was a Slytherin?

"Lily!" Petunia screeched, and I realized I had lingered too long in my thoughts for her impatience to handle.

I suddenly wanted to do anything but move. I wanted to freeze this moment forever. Petunia was here, and she was yelling, but she wasn't truly mad. Not at me, anyway. And my bed was wonderful – warm and safe and completely too lovely to leave. I sighed, savoring the scent of cinnamon lingering in my room and my sister's presence.

"Lily," she called again, this time closer to me than before. "Come on, twenty minutes."

With an exaggerated groan, I sat up and pushed the covers off me. Rubbing a bit of drool off my chin, I looked up at Petunia. As per usual, she was gorgeous. Sure, she was slightly boney (which seemed to be increasing with age) and had a rather horse-shaped head, but she always did her best to look good, and it worked.

Her hair was still slightly damp with a slight wave, but I was sure she'd soon fix that with her beloved flat iron. She was dressed in a skirt that I'm sure mum would write off as too-short, and wore strappy sandals with a lace tanktop and far too many bracelets.

As I examined her form I spied a heart-shaped necklace with her name engraved on it, embedded with purple jewels. My heart fell to the pit of my stomach as I realized it was her last present from mum; both of our last presents, as I had the same one, except with my name and emerald jewels. I instinctively reached for my neck to stroke the precious item, smiling slightly as my finger made contact and turning away to fix my sheets.

I heard Petunia exit just before I turned again to head to the bathroom. I took my sweet time in the shower, despite knowing it would irk my dad when I was unready upon his arrival home. I soaked in the warm water happily, scrubbing away at my annoyingly red hair with a pink formula that smelled of strawberries. It was really a potion that helped keep my frizzy hair managed and made it grow a quarter of an inch per use, though Petunia didn't know it was magical, and thus used it occasionally. Or maybe more than occasionally, as it was almost completely gone and I had gotten a new bottle from Diagon Alley last month.

I put on my fluffy green robe after shaving my legs and magically drying my hair in a matter of seconds. Stepping up to the mirror, I was surprised at the lack of fog, until I realized Petunia had kept the fan on from her shower.

I grimaced at a rather nasty looking blemish that had appeared over night on my forehead. Reaching under the counter I pulled out the instant acne removal cream Mary Macdonald, my best friend, has given me on my last birthday. Slopping on the yellow goop, I re-read the packaging and saw I had to wait five minutes. I nodded and then grabbed my toothbrush, brushing away for three minutes before rinsing with mouthwash. With another wave of my wand I was sporting light eye makeup and cherry lip gloss, and with a final wave, the goop was gone and my skin was, once again, smooth.

Being a witch really does have its advantages. I really did need to thank Alice for teaching me all those quick-fix charms.

I examined myself in the mirror. My black eyeliner and mascara made my green eyes pop out extraordinarily, and I smiled lightly at this. My eyes were my favorite feature, as they were among the few things I had inherited from my mum. My bright red hair had a light wave that Petunia used to be jealous of, as hers did an awkward frizz-thing and mine normally turned out looking elegant. Eventually, she told me that it was just a freak-thing.

Upon entering my bedroom, I noticed an outfit already set out on my bed. A note card was placed on top of it, with Petunias loopy writing:

Dad said to at least look "presentable", and since you can't do it on your own, I took the liberty. Do not put on those retched leggings under the skirt, it is longer than the ones I wear and you don't need to look like a nun. I'm running to the bakery for a cake, Dad wanted to bring something for brunch.

-Petunia

I couldn't help but smile at the note. Not once was the word 'freak' printed.

Five minutes later, however, I was looking into the mirror reproachfully. The blue jean mini-skirt was just that; mini. The red long-sleeve shirt showed too much cleavage (and as I never show any, any was way too much). The black pin-striped vest cinched in my waist and made me look like I had more of a figure than I did. I wore the strappy sandals reluctantly, as they had a slight heel and would no doubt trip me up eventually.

"Oh, Lils, you look stunning!"

I turned to my door and gave my dad a sheepish grin. Of course he'd think I look good, he had no sense of fashion. Sure, the outfit looked good, and showed off my legs nicely, but I didn't feel comfortable with showing off this much skin and dad didn't seem to mind it. I could just imagine mums expression – "Lily," she would say "You put on some pants this minute; I won't have you converting into your silly sister!"

"Thanks, dad," I mumbled, fingering my necklace out of habit.

"Well, your sister just got back. We need to leave now, or we'll be late."

I nodded as I looked at him. He was dressed in his work clothes, a formal attire, and had his dark hair neatly combed in a way that made him appear rather handsome. His lips were quirked slightly into a smile as he turned on his heel and exited my room. Just before he left, I saw a glimmer of something in his blue eyes I hadn't seen since mum died.

He was happy.

I looked around at the fancy diner, amazed at how perfect it seemed. We were in the muggle world, still, because dad knew how Petunia would react if taken to a magical household.

Everywhere, there were waiters that looked more like butlers, serving guests. The diner had light, romantic music, and we were being led to a private area in the back.

A table was set with five seats, wine laid out and candlelight illuminating the room. The maroon tablecloth matched the plush carpet, and the walls were decorated in tasteful swirled designs. The room smelled delicious, and steaming dinner rolls were waiting in the middle of the five-person table. But first, introductions were in order. I stared in awe at the woman my dad was introducing to Petunia and I, utterly amazed.

"Lily, Petunia, this is Dorea Evans (née Black)."

My stomach did flips as I took in the woman before me. She was, undoubtedly, beautiful. Her dark hair was curled to perfection and pinned to the top of her head in an elegant bun, a few strands let free to frame her heart-shaped face. Her smile was genuine and happy, her makeup light and used to accentuate her good features rather than add beauty. She was in a floor-length blue dressing gown that looked to be made of silk, and it looked like she belonged in a fairytale. It was no wonder what dad saw in her – even I was jealous of her amazing looks.

"So nice to meet you, girls." Her smile was splendid and gorgeous. She sounded so genuinely happy it was hard not to like her. "Your dad has told me so much about you!"

Petunia gripped my arm tightly, and I turned to see her glaring ferociously at our new step mother. With a curt nod, she forced a smile and said, voice dripping with false cheer and sarcasm, "So nice to meet you."

I shook my head to clear it – we were supposed to get her out of dad's life, not warm up to her! Just because she made dad happy again didn't mean she could replace our mum, or something!

"Nice to meet you, Mrs..." I trailed off, eyes falling to the ground as I realized I could never recognize her as a 'Mrs.', for that would be giving her mums title as 'Mrs. Evans'.

"Nice to meet you, Dorea," I corrected, sounded more genuine than Petunia, though trying not to seem happy about the situation. Because I wasn't. This woman wasn't going to be good enough to be in our lives. She couldn't be. She wasn't mum.

"My son should be along any moment," she said, and just as she spoke a teenager walked into the room dressed in formal wizarding robes.

I froze as soon as I saw him, because I recognized that messy head of black hair and those hazel eyes, sparkling with mischief.

He was staring at the ground solemnly as he entered, scowling before stopping beside his mother and slowly looking up, as if it were painful. His eyes lingered on my dad for a long moment, before taking in Petunia, and, beside her, me. As our eyes clashed, he froze and did a double take, blinking like a deer caught in the headlights. I imagined I looked vaguely the same.

"James, you're being rude," Dorea scolded good-naturedly, looking slightly confused and put-out by her son's behavior.

My stomach clenched and I suddenly felt like I was going to be sick. Dad was happy with a woman besides mum, which was a 180 from the constant misery he had endured for the past three years of loneliness. But, of all the stupid things he had ever done, this was the worst. How on earth could he be standing there, looking like the happiest man on earth, smiling at his new wife, when he had just married James-bloody-Potter's mother?

"Lily?" Potter asked, as if it were unbelievable, eyes sparkling with some unnamed emotion. I just stared for a moment more, before turning my eyes to the ground in determination.

"Potter." I acknowledged, before feeling Petunia's grip tighten around my wrist. I glanced at her to see her eyes filled with annoyance and anger and months of resentment.

"Why are you wearing a dress?" She asked rudely, sneering at Potter's attire. I nearly smiled – I had wondered the same thing upon reaching Hogwarts for the first time and seeing everyone looking as if they were cross dressers.

"Excuse me?" Potter said, seemingly taken aback. His mum let out a pleasant chuckle and shook her head at my sister's naivety of the wizarding world.

"What are you laughing at?" Petunia snapped at her, and I elbowed her as dad turned to us, looking a bit irritated.

"Manners, Petunia," He scolded, frowning.

"I just wanted to know," She said irritably, crossing her arms.

"They are wizarding robes," I told her, watching as her face turned disgusted.

"You freaks cross dress, too?" But this time she was talking about me, too, and I felt my face go red in embarrassment and anger.

"Figures," She sneered, looking at Dorea, Potter and me in a way that showed she obviously thought herself above all of us. I scowled angrily.

"Not now, Petunia," I hissed, hand twitching towards my wand, though I knew I'd never use it on her.

"What do you mean, freaks?" Potter asked, and I turned to see a rather outraged expression on his face, full of resentment for Petunia and slight anger.

"I mean," She said, sounding like she was talking to an idiotic toddler that couldn't understand words. "That you people are disgusting, weird, freakish things who can ma—"

"Petunia!" My father thundered, and my heart sank as I realized how mad he was. "Apologize, now!"

"No, I will not apologize," Petunia said snottily, tapping her foot, as if impatient to leave. Which she was, of course.

"You will apologize, and then you will sit down and enjoy a nice dinner with your new family." He said it in a deceptively calm, dangerous voice.

"So you are trying to replace mum," she accused, tears in her eyes, hands shaking. I put a hand on her shoulder to calm her, because we already came to this realization months ago, and I had accepted it. He was going through grief, still, and he would try to replace her. But we wouldn't let him.

"Petunia! I am not trying to replace your mother," he said, now sounded slightly desperate. I gazed at him to see a look of hurt etched onto his face.

"Oh, yes you are!" She snapped, her entire frame shaking furiously.

"Petunia, not now," I repeated lightly, rubbing her back slightly, all too aware of the inquiring gaze been shot to me by Potter and his mother. She turned on me, eyes blazing.

"So you don't care about mum now, too?" I could see the tears, though, threatening to fall, and I knew she didn't truly believe this. That she was just saying things, that she was still grieving. "I knew you'd take her side; breeds have to stick together, right?"

"No – Petunia, calm dow-"

"I can't believe you, you freak." She shook her head at me, looking betrayed.

And then she ran.

I felt a familiar prickling sensation in my eyes. I ignored it, Potter and his mother, "I'll go."

I felt a tug on my wrist, and turned to see Potters' eyes blazing as he looked at me, a frown firmly in place. I rounded on him, beyond annoyed.

"What?" I snarled.

He looked lost for a long moment, and eventually let go. "I'll go too,"

I shook my head at him, but as I ran after her, I felt him follow.

I looked both ways, and then turned towards the direction of our house. Petunia would either be there, or at Vernon's, and I wasn't sure how to get to his house, as he normally visited ours.

I pushed my way through the crowds, running top-speed towards my house. It was a good four and a half miles away, but it didn't matter so much, because I wasn't running for myself. I was running to make sure my sister was okay, and that everything we'd built up over the past two months wasn't gone.

I was suddenly glad I had been going to the gym, because a few months ago I'd already be breaking a sweat. Even as I got to the third mile and began to feel warmer in the long-sleeved shirt, I pressed on. By the fourth mile, my breaths were ragged and I could hear Potter catching up behind me. It vaguely occurred to me that I was wearing a skirt, but I bypassed the thought. I needed to get to Petunia; she needed me.

I sprinted past the park we always used to play at when we were kids, and it occurred to me that I hadn't seen her figure in front of me the entire run, even when the road was long and straight. My heart clenched, but I ignored it – she had gotten a head start because of Potter, right? She was going to be at home, right?

My breath was coming out in gasps by the time I burst through the front door of my house. Leaving it open uselessly, I glanced in every room as I passed.

"Tuney?" I called, using the nickname from a time long past. I looked in her room, the bathroom, my room, dad's room, and lurched to a stop at my parent's old bedroom. We hadn't entered it since mum died, except for dad to move his stuff to the guest room.

I heard cautious steps on the stairs behind me as I slowly opened the door. It creaked, just as I remembered. I walked in slowly, winded and tired and hopeful. But Petunia wasn't there.

Instead, dozens of pictures in frames lay on the bed, all of mum and our small family. This was where dad had put them all. Where he had hidden them all away.

It looked like mum hadn't even left. Everything was in-between a neat and messy disorder, just like her. On the night table there was a mug she used to always drink from that I made her for Christmas. It looked rather out-of-place among all the sticky notes she always used as reminders. Her closet was slightly ajar, showing all of her formal clothes and tacky sweaters.

My heart slowly broke at the sight.

"I have the right to wear these terrible sweaters," she once told me. "Every parent needs some way to embarrass their kids!"

I fell to my knees in front of the bed, staring at a picture. Mum was smiling at the camera, looking gorgeous in an emerald dress and red Christmas hat. I stared and memorized the picture.

If I looked close enough she looked slightly annoyed, and I remembered that I had been arguing with Petunia over who would take the picture. We had clicked the camera at the same time, and her expression was happy, if not surprised. Her lips were red and glossy, her eyes emerald, almond-shaped and so like mine.

The image blurred, and it took me a long moment to realize that I was crying. "Lily?"

I turned to see Potter hesitating at the doorway, looking unsure of what to do. The moment he saw my face, he took an involuntary step back, looking at me in shocked surprise.

"Merlin," he mumbled, and I quickly turned away, swiping at my eyes. As I removed the tears, new ones quickly took their place. Angrily, I tried to get rid of them, only to have a sob break through. I froze; there was no way I was going to cry in front of James Potter. Not even if hell froze over.

I heard him approach cautiously, and turned to him furiously, sending him to strongest glare I could muster. "What do you want, Potter?"

Even to me, my voice sounded painfully weak and pitiful. Oh, gods, this can't be happening.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, n—

I froze as he embraced me, brushing my hair out of my face and pushing my face to his chest, and treating me like I was the most precious thing in the world. My lip started trembling as he continued stroking my hair, muttering things I couldn't even understand.

"I know," he said, and I shook angrily. How could he know? How could he even begin to imagine what I was going through?

His dad, a little voice told me.

And I knew it was true. Potter's dad had been killed in action sometime during second year. I remembered it well. He didn't speak to anyone for weeks, he got into a huge row with the other Marauders and he always had big bags under his eyes that year.

He did know; he was, perhaps, the only person besides Petunia that knew what I was going through.

So, I cried in the arms of James Potter, a schoolmate I had hated for the last six years, and, now, my new step-brother.

"I'm sorry," I whispered after what felt like a decade, just as the sobs stopped.

"For what?" He murmured, still stroking my hair soothingly, his voice sounding a tad broken and lost.

"For being so weak," I replied solemnly. He suddenly backed off, and I winced. Of course he wouldn't want to be around someone so weak – hell, I didn't want to be around me. Not to mention this was Potter, a boy I had verbally abused for the past four or so years, and someone who I was never on good terms with.

"Lily," he said seriously, looking me straight in the eyes. His hazel orbs were sparking with an emotion I didn't recognize, and I swallowed involuntarily. "You are not weak."

And before I could blink, or even think, he kissed my forehead and pulled me back into a hug.

This is the longest chapter I have ever written. I am extremely proud of myself. Unlike my other stories, this will not be a oneshot. And, seeing as I haven't written a chaptered story since my old accounts, excuse me if I take a little long to update. I am going to try to rival this chapters length in all the other ones, so tell me if any of you think this is too long and I may decide against that.

I'd love feedback, as I came up with this idea last night as I was drifting to sleep and am still slightly unsure.

Keep in mind this is unedited, and I've vaguely read through it, so feel free to point out mistakes. Thanks for reading, and I promise this is likely to be one of the longest author notes there will be.