Disclaimer: Characters and world belong to J.K. Rowling.

A/N: So, this is slightly AU, because James is not supposed to have any relatives other than his parents. It's in Lily's POV, which is different because I don't usually do first person. Hopefully this will turn out well. I'm not doing CW anymore. It's in desperate need of revamping, which I'll probably end up doing at a later date. With this fic, however, I'm making a serious effort to have this culturally accurate. So if anyone sees a mistake, please inform me!

Summary: Lily is in for the best summer ever. Well, that is, until an expected visitor decided to intrude on her happiness. Can she keep her cool? Yeah, no one else thinks so either.

Chapter 1

Good Things Never Last

"The capacity for friendship is God's way of apologizing for our families."

-Jay McInerney

This is officially the best summer ever. Literally nothing will be able to ruin my mood today. Seriously.

My best best friend in the entire world (I'll admit her rating has gone up because of this) has just owled me with the best news she could possibly offer. I could kiss her – well, if I wasn't completely straight. Otherwise though…

In all seriousness, Hestia Lauren Jones has saved my life. Without her amazingness, I'd be stuck at home all summer, half-heartedly attempting not to kill my sister. This way, I can be in France and not land myself in prison! Win, win situation, really.

I nearly fell down the stairs as I ran to tell my parents the great news.

"Mum! Dad! I have just received the best news I've ever got!" I hollered, running into the amber colored sitting room where they were watching the telly.

"Really, honey? Better than the time you got your letter?" Mum asked amusedly. I don't see what's so funny, but I couldn't find it in myself to care.

"Nearly!" I grinned happily, standing in front of the telly. Apparently, I was blocking the view, according to Dad's dive to keep his eyes on the screen.

"What is it, then?" she asked.

"Hestia's asked me to France with her! For the entire summer!" For some reason, Mum didn't share my enthusiasm. She stood up and guided me out of the room and into the kitchen (well, as best as she could when I was practically hopping up and down with excitement).

"Now, Lily," she started, using her I-don't-want-to-burst-your-bubble-but-I-have-to voice. "You want to go to France. Alone. For the whole summer. When we barely see you."

Though I knew what she was getting at, I pouted. "You're seeing me now."

Mum shook her head, silently telling me that she didn't mean it like that. "Who's going to be there supervising?"

"Hestia's parents – they go there every summer. Please? With three thousand cherries on top? You'll see all the time next year when I'm outta school. And plus, I'm of age now," I pleaded, getting down on my knees. Yeah, I was willing to go to that length. I widened eyes in an attempt to look extra pitiful.

Mum sighed, realizing that it was a losing battle. "Alright, Lily. But I better get letters from you the entire time."

I cheered, getting up off the floor to throw my arms around her neck, "Yay! Thanks, Mum! This is why you're the best!" I shot her a winning grin.

She chuckled, albeit reluctantly. "And don't you forget it. Now, when are you leaving?"

"So ready to get rid of me, Mum? She's coming to get me on Monday. And we'll be back August 24th. I'm going to go pack, yeah?"

"Of course." I let go of her to sprint out the room and nearly tripped going up the stairs. But we're pretending that didn't happen.

I threw myself on the bed and grinned up at the ceiling, most likely looking like a manic, before remembering all of things I had to do before Monday came around. First things first, I needed to write back to Hestia to tell her of Mum's acceptance.

Hestia,

I CAN COME!

You are the most amazing person the face of the planet. You've just helped a poor soul escape from her evil sister. Someone should give you an Order of Merlin.

Agrippa, I'm so excited, you don't even know. Or maybe you do know. I'm not sure; I'm only one person, but Merlin!

Can Mary come? Not that this trip won't already be absolutely perfect, but it'll be even more perfect with her. Oh, we're going to have the greatest time! This is why you're my best friend. Because you got me away from Petunia for a summer. I'm seriously considering eloping with you in France. Keep an eye out.

Lots of love,

Lily

I got my owl, Rissy – who had been locked in her cage up until this point because of Petunia (another thing that will be rectified by this marvelous trip) – and attached the letter to her leg.

"This is for Hestia," I told her, and Rissy took off through the window.

Second order of business: finding a suitable trunk to pack everything in. I was not going to use my Hogwarts one for a number of reasons, the most prominent of which being unpacking it – not something I ever do, so it's not happening now.

Under my bed, I found an unused trunk. The only problem with it, though, was that it appeared to be from my purple phase. Every child, it seems, has an indisputable phase during which they only wear, buy, and use one color. Mine was purple, a color that I may still like, but certainly not in the obsessive way I had as a kid. My room had been painted during the phase, as well. The trunk, as a result, was a nearly offending shade of purple.

I supposed it would just have to do. Petunia's only trunk was also from her color phase and her color was pink. I was not about to deal with that attacking my retinas every second. Besides, knowing her, she wouldn't even lend it to me. And I didn't want to get one of my parents – that would be way too much work.

Now… What do you wear on a trip to France, where there will most likely be French guys, who are known worldwide for their attractiveness? But, at the same time, I can't look like I'm trying too hard, can I?

While I was trying to decide between a tight blue halter top and a loose red t-shirt, Petunia came bursting through my bedroom door. For someone who hates it when I do that very same thing to her, she sure does it shamelessly.

Petunia and I were complete opposites. For most (the exceptions being our parents), it was very hard to believe we were created by the same two people. Petunia had blonde hair; I had red. She had blue eyes; I had green. She was tall and thin; I was short and curvy. But looks were the least of our differences. She was strict; I was lenient. She was neat; I was messy. She was busy; I was lazy. She had to be perfect; I couldn't care less about perfect. In fact, I'm pretty sure the only thing we had in common was stubbornness. And, so, we clashed. To make matters worse, I was a witch and that meant not normal to her. We might've gotten along at some point, but our friendship had been ruined by jealousy and differences.

"What are you doing, freak?" she asked rudely.

I bristled. "Uh, excuse me, but you are the one who just waltzed into my room. I'm not allowed to do that to you, why can you do it to me?" I asked coldly.

Petunia pursed her lips. "Because I can." Oh, older sisters and their twisted ideas of logic. "Now, what are you doing?"

"Packing. For my trip to France with some friends." I smirked as Petunia quickly adopted an expression that looked as if she had just swallowed a lemon. I felt a strange sort of satisfaction – does that make me a terrible, vindictive person? I think it does (but I don't care).

"Since when were you going to…France?" she asked in a strained voice.

"My friend just invited me today."

Petunia's lips pressed into an infinitely thin line. "One of your freak friends?"

"Yeah."

"When you're not even here the rest of the year?"

I swallowed, quickly realizing where she was going with this. "Yeah…"

"God, you aren't even part of this family anymore! You're never here. You're always at that – that – school of yours. And, now, you're going to France. Yet, Mum wants me to make you my Maid of Honor! Shouldn't that be reserved for someone who's actually there?" Petunia asked rhetorically before stomping out of the room, having sufficiently rained on my parade.

To my utter horror, my bottom lip trembled dangerously. I fell down dejectedly on my bed, biting down hard on my lip to make it stop.

Why did she have to ruin everything for me? Petunia's words had stung, more I'd like to admit. She didn't want me to be her Maid of Honor? She doesn't even think of me as family?

In no way is it my fault that I'm magical. She can't blame me for something I've been born with. Something I virtually can't control. And, somehow, she does. She makes me feel like shite because of her jealousy.

At school, I'm pushed around for the same thing. If I could do something about, I would. But I can't. Why can't people just accept that?

I exhaled loudly and blinked furiously to keep myself from crying. Crying's stupid, anyway. Who wants to have snot and tears everywhere? It's just disgusting and it doesn't make me feel any better. Crying should just be banished from the universe forever.

Going back to my packing, I picked up the red t-shirt. I briefly contemplated folding it neatly before throwing it into my vividly purple trunk. No one's got time for folding and being neat. At least I don't hide my laziness – I embrace it.

Who knows how many hours filled with clothing (and more clothing) later, I could barely keep my eyes open. Yawning hugely, I navigated my way through the piles and piles of potential outfits and plopped down on my bed. I went to sleep fighting off depressing thoughts starring bitchy sisters with France and all its opportunities.

Surprisingly, I woke up to the sound of chirping birds and closed curtains. Revealing in the fact that it was about the only time I've ever woken up peacefully, I rolled out of bed. Hitting the floor, quite unexpectedly, succeeded in breaking through my morning haze, unfortunately.

"Lily? You okay?" Mum asked from somewhere downstairs.

"Yeah," I said, groaning. So much for a happy awakening. I rubbed my now sore bum and trudged into the bathroom across the hall shared between me and my sister.

The sudden light destroyed my corneas and I groaned again. "Why is this bloody bathroom so bright?" I muttered. My eyes narrowed on the translucent window letting in the sunlight. "Well, aren't you a little devil?" I smirked, pulling down the shades and sighing in approval.

After I took care of the rest of my person hygiene issues of the morning, I grabbed a brush with a grimace at the red thing (it hardly classified as hair anymore) dominating my head. A few minutes of hacking through the mess painfully, I decided that braiding it would be easier.

My stomach grumbled. "And that would be the hunger," I said to myself, before trekking out of the room and down the stairs. To my confusion, there was no one in the kitchen.

Sparing a glance at the clock, I realized why. It was two thirty in the afternoon. When did I go to sleep last night? I tried to scratch my head and adopt the standard thinking position and instantly regretted it. Too many shortcomings in one morning. Godric.

Cooking would be a waste of my time, especially when lunch was right around the corner. But cereal didn't require any cooking. Not unless you count pouring the milk.

As I sat, staring blankly at the wall and eating the flavorless cereal (who bought this? Mum? Dad wouldn't buy such shite), Petunia entered the room and daintily placed her keys on the counter. Last year, she had bought a car (and by that, I mean, our parents bought it), and she rarely spent time in the house anymore.

I looked up, wiping the milk running down my chin off. Petunia stared at me as if I was some kind of Neanderthal. And I probably was, in her eyes.

"You do realize its two o'clock in the afternoon, right?" she asked with her perpetual pursed lips.

"Yeah," I said.

Petunia hummed in annoyance, rolling her eyes. Next, my Mum entered the room.

"Oh, Lily," Mum said, just registering that I had woken up. "I heard you took a tumble this morning. Or afternoon. Whichever you prefer."

I grinned impishly. "That's what happens when you forget about that floor."

Mum smiled at me before turning to Petunia. "You have fun at Vernon's, dear?"

"Yes," said Petunia in clipped tones, stalking out the room.

I finished off the rest of my cereal and put it in the sink. "Okay, Mum, I think I'm going to go out today."

"Alright. Where you going?"

"I don't know. I just wanna explore the town. Haven't done that in a while," I said truthfully. This had occurred to me as I saw Petunia put down her keys on the counter. Now that I was of age and could Apparate, the world was at my fingertips.

"Okay… Have fun," said Mum good naturedly, though she seemed confused. I went back upstairs to get dressed and was outside in no time. It was surprisingly hot, but I had prepared for that, and wore shorts and a loose shirt.

"Hello, world, I'm Lily Evans." I laughed at my lame joke before letting my feet control me. Unpredictably, I did not (as I would've preferred) end up in the bakery, but instead at the playground of my childhood.

I scolded my feet for their incompetence. They were behind on the times, obviously, because this was the playground Sev – Snape – and I used go to, before…things when bad.

There were two kids playing there today, so I stayed out of their way as sat down on one of the swings hesitantly. I debated the pros and cons of just leaving and going to the bakery when someone sat down next to me.

"I hadn't expected you to be here," the person said loftily. My head whipped around at the familiar male voice of my ex childhood best friend.

"Neither had I," I said in a wary voice.

"Why are you here?" he asked in the same haughty tone. I felt dismayed at it – our friendship was truly gone. I had come to terms with this long ago, but it still hurt.

"This isn't exclusively your playground."

"Well, it isn't ours." He sounded bitter.

"You're right. But I can still sit here, if I want."

"You should leave."

"I don't feel any need to, so, no, I'm not going to."

"I suppose you've heard my mother died," he said, after a few moments of silence.

I had. "Yeah." I wanted to say more, but nothing else came.

"I have places to be. Goodbye," he said curtly before going on his way. I thought about the strangeness of that entire encounter, all the while wondering where he could be going.

How had we – best friends – been reduced to this formal coldness?

Snape – he wasn't Sev anymore. Sev had been a lost little boy, Snape was a man engrossed in the Dark Arts. There was no saving him. He had been wandering down that road for a long time, and he was finally where he wanted to be.

The prejudice hadn't helped. We were in two different houses. Two different houses with a long history of hatred between them. We should've known we weren't going to work. On top of that, I was Muggleborn – Mudblood, in his circle. With the war on, Slytherin and Gryffindor tensions ran high and I tore us apart. Especially with everyone else telling us what to do.

People like the Marauders and Avery and Mulciber. The Marauders – don't get me started. They were out of line every time they even attempted to talk to me about my friendship choices. What do they know, anyway? Avery and Mulciber, though, had successfully pulled Snape farther away from me.

And then there was that fateful day by the lake after our O.W.L. exams in fifth year. That was the breaking point. I still can't think back on that incident without wincing and feeling like shite. James Potter and Sirius Black, they make my blood boil, particularly the former. Who he thinks he is, that's what I'd like to know. There's something about him that just pisses me off so much. I can't put my finger on it, though. I reckon it's just him and his damned hair – the eejit.

Sighing, I reminded myself that Monday was tomorrow. Now, where was the bakery? I really need to get out more.

The rest of the day passed way too slowly for my liking. I spent my time lying hopelessly on the white sofa watching the telly and eating crisps, wishing that time wasn't such a spiteful pain in the arse. For some reason, it liked to slow down at the most inconvenient of times. What a wank stain. Father Time and I will need to be having a serious talk one of these days.

Luckily, Monday arrived as it was supposed to, despite the fact it was three centuries behind schedule. Hestia had sent me an owl in response to my own excited one of Saturday, telling me that she would be coming at noon. This was when time also decided to take a break.

But noon did indeed come before I had to rough it out with Father Time, so it's all good. I ran so fast down the stairs, I didn't notice the discarded pen lying on them until I tripped over it and ended up flat on my face on the landing.

I hate everyone. I really do. Well, except Hestia.

"Lily? Are you okay?" my mum asked.

I scowled, picking myself up. "Just peachy!" Then, I remembered that it was noon and a grin found its way onto my face once again. I resumed the pace I had before the tripping and falling had occurred and traveled to the sitting room. My parents watched, amused, as I parked myself right in the middle of the room.

"Lilybean," Dad said, audibly holding back laughter, "where's your trunk?"

Damn.

"Oh!" I exclaimed going back up the stairs, only to return mere seconds later with the annoyingly purple trunk and Rissy.

"What's up with the color, freak?" Petunia had asked, passing by.

"I'm making a fashion statement." I laughed gleefully skipped back into the room I had just left. My parents exchanged bemused looks.

They hadn't the time to comment, though, because a loud crack rang though the house and a girl with dark, curly hair and brown eyes appeared in the sitting room. I assumed I looked a lot like an excitable puppy at the moment, with a look of unadulterated joy on my face and my hands clasped in front of me.

"Hullo, Evanses!" said Hestia, grinning. I don't think I'd ever been so happy to see her.

"Hest!" I cried, running over to give her hug. She readily complied.

"Lils!" She laughed. Hestia pulled away from my hug (I felt a little indignant, because I give great hugs) and went over to my parents. Presumably, to tell them everything I had already told them.

When she (finally) returned her attention back to me, she grinned. "You ready to go, Lily?"

"I've been ready," I said impatiently. She just laughed.

"Say goodbye then." I did as I was told and went over to give each of my parents a tight hug.

"Sorry for abandoning you with Tuney," I whispered in my Dad's ear.

He laughed. "I'm going to take her fishing. Don't you think she'll love that?" I laughed, too, because we both knew Petunia will have a tantrum when she discovered her and her father's plans for the day.

I turned back to Hestia. "Shall we?"

"We shall," she said, laughing again. "Do you need me to Side-Along you?"

"No – Hest, I've been to your house before."

"Alright," she said before Apparating out of the house with a pop. I waved to my parents once more before turning on the spot. When I opened my eyes, I was in a different room, miles away.

The Jones' family room contained the entire family plus one Mary MacDonald. The Jones' all were conversing between each other excitedly and none of them looked up when we Apparated in, most likely because they had been expecting up. Mary, however, stood up and gave me a hug.

She was a small girl, like me, and had short, mousey brown hair and blue eyes. She looked innocent and vulnerable, and I always felt very protective of her. Despite her appearance, though, she had a large personality, as if to make up for the lost space.

"Hi, Lily," she greeted chirpily.

"Mary!" I grinned. "You got smaller."

"So did you!"

"I'm still taller than the both of you, anyway," interjected Hestia. On cue, Mary and I rolled our eyes.

Hestia's mum, Freya Jones, stood up. "Okay, we're Flooing to the house." The rest of the Joneses stop relaxing on the sofas and joined their matriarch. There was Hestia's older sister, Gwenog, who had graduated from school two years ago and was an aspiring Quidditch player. Alfie, their younger brother, was in his fourth year at Hogwarts, and had two friends with him.

Mrs. Jones (though she had asked me to call her Freya countless times) grabbed a bag of Floo powder that had been resting of the mantelpiece. "You first, Gwenog."

Gwenog obliged, taking some and yelling, loudly and clearly, "Jones Summer Home!" She disappeared in a whoosh of shockingly green flame. Next went Alfie and his fourth year friends. After Hesita and Mary, it was my turn to take a handful of the glittery Floo powder.

Stepping into the fireplace, I commanded, "Jones Summer Home," like my precedents had. I felt as if I was being sucked down, spinning very quickly. The earsplitting roar of the fire accompanied the view of other fireplaces and the rooms they were in. I remembered to keep my elbows tucked in, fortunately, and squeezed my eyes shut, to make it less likely for me to throw up. I never liked Floo travel.

I landed, albeit woozily, in an entirely different sitting room than the Jones' other one. I got out of the fireplace and rested a hand on the wall, keeping my mouth shut tightly. I wouldn't want to upchuck all over the beautiful room. It really was, though. The walls were colored a terra cotta color that matched well with the wood floors. The sofas were peach and made we want to jump on them desperately. Around the room, there were still pictures from past summers – I saw one with Hestia and an unfamiliar girl, both with so much sand in their hair I cringed. The bookcases were filled, but that was not was made me want to jump for joy, as it usually would've have. Open glass doors at the back of the den, revealed the bath in the backyard and a sunny sky.

"Like the house?" Hestia asked me once I my stomach was settled and I could speak again.

"Love it," I said, not lying one bit.

Mary pointed to the picture of Hestia and the girl. "Who's that?" I, too, was very curious as to who Hestia's summer friend was.

"Oh, that's Lucy Benson – my only saving grace during these summers. She's a Muggle and she lives next door. I'll introduce her to you after we finish unpacking, if you want," explained Hestia, pulling us towards the staircase. On the second floor of the house, there were four moderately sized bedrooms.

"You guys will be staying in my room," Hestia said. We all dragged out trunks into the room to see three identical beds in an all-white room, except for the personal pictures decorating the walls. The whiteness for the room brought more attention to irritating purple of my trunk.

Mary stifled a laugh. "What…?"

"Don't laugh at it. I can't have a purple trunk?" I asked, making sure to sound very indignant.

"Not of that shade…" Hestia said, covering her grin with a hand.

"Oh! I know where I've seen that color before – Dumbledore's robes!" Mary exclaimed. Against my will, my lips twitched as I watched my friends laugh at my trunk's expense.

"My trunk has feelings, you know!" I scolded. Addressing my trunk, I comforted, "it's okay. You're color's not stupid. They're stupid."

"You're the one talking to a stupidly colored trunk," said Mary. I glared at her, before giving up on my charade and laughing.

"Do you guys want something to eat?" Hestia asked us.

"Is that even a question?" I retorted. I held out my arms. "Hest, take me to the food."

"Me, as well," Mary said, holding out her arms, too. Hestia laughed at our antics, expecting us to follow her out of the room.

When we finished the biscuits that Mrs. Jones had laid out for us, Hestia suggested we go for a swim. It was night getting late, which makes it that much better. We all got changed into our cozzies and headed outside. It was humid night, though I don't know what I expected.

Mary didn't wait; she dived into the swimming bath with a whoop. Obviously, she didn't think it through (or maybe she did) because Hestia and I got splashed with most of the water. With twin looks of outrage, we both jumped in after Mary, splashing her ruthlessly.

"Hestia!" a voice called. It was unfamiliar to Mary and me, but Hestia seemed to recognize it.

"Lucy?" she asked back. Realization: the voice was of the girl in the pictures. Lucy came jogged over, smiling brightly. She had aged since the picture, obviously. Her straight, ash brown hair was longer and her face was rounder. Lucy also had a protruding nose that looked eerily familiar to me.

Hestia got out of the bath, to give Lucy a hug, probably, but Lucy backed up. "Don't you dare touch me!" she shrieked, using her hands as a barrier between her and Hestia.

Laughing, Hestia turned back to us. "Lucy, these are my friends, Lily Evans and Mary MacDonald."

"Oh! Hi, it's nice to meet you all!" Lucy said cheerfully, grinning. I'm starting to think she says everything cheerfully.

"It's great you brought friends, though, Hestia, because my cousin is here with me. I used to see him all the time before I moved here. His mum sent him here because his dad is sick and she didn't want him worrying – not like he won't anyway. So, he's really moody and annoying right now, but hopefully I can get him out of it. But, this way, we can all hang out together!" She had said all this very fast. Her rambling reminded me of someone – but I can't think who.

Hestia took a few seconds to digest everything Lucy had said. "Okay. Where is he?"

"Oh! I'll go get him!" said the cheerful Lucy before dashing off to her house.

"Why doesn't she have a French accent?" I asked once she had left.

"She had grown up in London, she only moved her when she was ten," Hestia explained.

"Lucy sure talks fast," Mary commented lazily.

"I know. It's hard to keep up sometimes." Hestia laughed, getting back into the swimming bath. Lucy came running back soon after, with –

Simultaneously, Hestia, Mary, and I's jaws dropped.

Because there, in all his messy-haired, bespectacled glory, was James Potter.