Hi!

This is my first published story, and I hope you enjoy it. Please leave a review; I'd love to hear your thoughts and also some constructive criticism on how to improve!

Hopefully its better than my terrible summary :P

Disclaimer: I do not own the world of Harry Potter, or any of the characters mentioned in this story

I love the way everything looks after it rains.

I love how the grass is sprinkled with drops of glistening rain, how the sun comes shining through the fluffy grey clouds, almost like a metaphor: after the rain comes the sun. Even when everything is dark and miserable, know that it's going to get better, because the sun always comes back, eventually. Always. I love how the air smells damp and moist and fresh, as if the rain has washed away all the bad memories, ready to start over with better ones. I love how everything sparkles in the sunlight, a reminder that the rain was there. A beautiful reminder.

I love treacle tart.

Perhaps not as poetic, but I still love it. I love the rich, warm smell of treacle tart; a comforting reminder of Hogwarts. I love the taste of treacle tart, melting in my mouth. No matter how badly the day went, treacle tart makes it better. Treacle tart is the taste of home, of warmth, of happy memories. Treacle tart is the piece of home I always carry with me: treacle tart is home, with Tuney and me eagerly waiting for it to be done so we can tuck in; treacle tart is home away from home: Hogwarts. Nothing can go wrong if there's a piece of treacle tart waiting for me.

I love Marlene. Alice. Mary.

I love their quirks, their different traits. They complete Hogwarts; trying to imagine life at school without them is like trying to imagine Alice without Frank, the Marauders without their practical jokes, Dumbledore without his beard. Impossible. I love how they are always laughing and cheerful and so full of enthusiasm. They're an even better remedy to a bad day than treacle tart; they're always there for a good laugh, a comforting hug, sympathetic words. They are the light during times like these, always laughing despite the horrors going on around us.

I love watching Quidditch.

I certainly don't enjoy playing the game myself, but I love watching the players weave in between each other, high up in the air. I love following the different balls as they're thrown to and fro around the pitch; watching the little splashes of colour that are the players as they catch the Quaffle expertly and zoom around, throwing themselves flat against the broomsticks as they pull into a dive. Watching the game is mesmerising, magical, thrilling. The shouts and groans when something exciting happens, clutching onto whoever is next to you with anticipation. Watching Quidditch is beautiful.

I love sitting in my corner of the common room when it snows outside.

I love curling up on my seat in front of the fireplace, tucked into my favourite oversized jumper and fluffy socks while little wisps of white swirl around outside the window. I love gazing outside as flecks of white land on the windowsill and dance about on the air currents, bringing with them a feel of Christmas. The warmth from the fireplace on one side, the crisp beauty of snowflakes on the other. Everything feels so cosy and perfect, almost like it's a scene straight out of a Christmas movie. There's nothing more perfect than sitting in my little corner while it snows.

I love my parents.

There's nothing more comforting than my mother's gentle words of advice, or my father's arms wrapped tightly around me. To me, nothing is quite as beautiful as my mother; no-one quite as strong and brave as my father. Only a smile like my mum's could light up the world: full of kindness and completely genuine. Only my dad's jokes can make me laugh quite that hard. Without them to turn to in moments of darkness, Merlin knows how I'd keep fighting. My parents give me strength, act as a reminder never to give up. And for that, I love my parents more than anything.

I love going to Diagon Alley.

I love stepping into the busy streets full of smiling and laughing kids, feeling the warm summer sun shining on my face as I wander the streets. I love the bustle of the shoppers, the shouts of people trying to sell little knick knacks. I always get a smile on my face when I walk past the display windows, admiring all the magical products and potions ingredients and seeing the Wizarding World's finest dress robes. When little children run past me, heading towards Quality Quidditch Supplies to gawk at the latest broom model, I can't help but grin. Diagon Alley is my childhood.

All of these are a few of my favourite things; without these things, my life would only be half as beautiful a place as it is. However, the thing I love most? The thing I love most…

I love James Potter.

No-one can cheer me up like he can; not treacle tart, not my very best friends, not even my parents. James can make all my worries melt away with just a smile in my direction, just a comforting squeeze of my hand. James is my reason to fight. I fight for our future once this Voldemort ordeal is over. Without James, I wouldn't be complete - only half a Lily existing, but not living. I love everything about James: how he makes me laugh 'til my stomach hurts, how he says my name so tenderly, how he gazes into my eyes with so much adoration it makes me blush.

I love James Potter so much it bloody hurts, but I wouldn't have it any other way.