Author's note: This is my first story and recognise it may be a little rough. This first chapter is very short but other chapters may be longer. Thank you for reading.

A whiff of manure

"Well this place looks shite."

"James!" his father scolded. "Don't use such language in front of your mother!"

James noted that he was not told off for insulting the place, because really - it was shite.

A perfectly ordinary hamlet, with a large village green surrounded by houses and a whiff of manure in the air. The cars were old-fashioned and James doubted anyone had their own telephone.

As they drove through the town, they drove up the hill, where the houses suddenly became a little more austere. Soon, they stopped in front of a four-story with a 'large garden and scenic views of the countryside' - according to the estate agent.

It was a nice house. That much was true.

Yet judging from the bulging eye staring at them through some lace curtains in the house next door, they were not particularly welcome.

The house next door was dark. Foreboding. It gave off an air of unfriendliness. The plaque on the side of the door proclaiming it "Black House", was certainly accurate.

James helped his father shift his bags and he soon was inside the spacious entryway greeted them, with a staircase sweeping upwards. There was a garage under the stairs leading up to the house and he knew his father would already be investigating it.

His mother - with an air of fragility - leaned heavily on the railings as she made her way up. "Country air…" she wheezed, "the doctor said it would be better than all that London… Smog…."

He had heard it a dozen times before - the hope that this mysterious illness would disappear with 'country air'. Ridiculous. As it was, here they were, in the village of Friestan. There was a pub, a tea shop, a few other shops, a school, a village green, a church, a village hall and a bus stop.

After the hustle and bustle of London, this practically undiscovered part of Surrey was a different world.

It wasn't long until James made the decision to explore. It wouldn't take long, he reasoned, and maybe he'd meet someone younger than 50.

"BYE MUM!"

"What? James wher-"

But the door slammed and Euphemia Potter only had time to see her son sauntering down the road, flicking up the collar of his navy bomber jacket. It was time to see what this place had to offer him.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

"Lily? What on earth are you doing?"

"Hitting my head against my desk."

"Please stop, dear. You'll give yourself a headache."

Thump. Thump. Thump.

"Alright dear. I'll make us some tea."

Lily Evans lifted her now aching head and dared to peek out the window. On the other side of the green, a shiny and out-of-place car was speeding past and she could see Mrs Doyle sitting on a bench with Mrs Sprout. Yet this was not what she was interested in – she was more interested (or perhaps irritated) with the very handsome boy with chin length hair, wearing a leather jacket and ear piercings visible, who was sitting on the fence in front of the house.

Absolute bugger.

Never again would she drink. Never again would she smoke. Never again would she go to one of the Prewetts' parties – if only she could have a blank slate and forget she ever got off with Sirius Black.

She pulled her body from her chair and went down the rickety staircase. Her mother was peering through the window whilst Lily slunk past to avoid being seen by anyone outside.

"That's that Black boy isn't it? Thought our lot were beneath them."

"Is that my tea?"

"Mmm. Do you know why he could be here?"

"No. Now come sit down and drink your tea."

She left the window and sat down with her disheveled looking daughter. Jane Evans was no fool – she had a very good idea of why her daughter looked so rough and a very good idea of why one of the Blacks were sitting on her fence. However, she simply pursed her lips and sipped her tea. Best not to interfere.

As James sauntered into the village his eyes were immediately drawn to a boy around his own age sitting on a fence, staring at an upper window of a quaint cottage. Sickeningly quaint – were the roses and honeysuckle actually necessary?

The boy was whistling "Do Ya Think I'm Sexy" by Rod Steward to himself and James immediately winced.

"Alright then? You some kind of wannabe rocker?"

Sirius Black jerked around and glared viciously at the tall boy smirking at him. "Are you a professional wanker then? Figures. I'll have you know I'm a better bloody rocker than a lot of people."

"Because there's such a culture for it here."

"You shut up. Don't you know Mod culture is dead?"

"Ah. Obviously being so sheltered here means you've not heard of the mod revival."

"Prick."

"Bastard"

"Twat."

"Tosser."

The two glared at each other for a minute before James smirked and stuck out his hand. "James Potter. I'm from London but now I'm stuck in this shithole. You?"

The other boy smirked and then grabbed his hand. "Sirius Black. Disgraced son. Live up the hill. Yes – you are correct, this is a shithole but it's not all bad. For example: at this house lives the very gorgeous Lily Evans who I got off with last night."

"Really? How hot is she?"

"Full on sexy. Long red hair and a body to die for."

"Shame. I don't really go for redheads."

Lily was still peering out the window – but now she was doing it curiously. The aforementioned bugger was still there but had been joined by someone she had never seen before. His hair was completely unruly, he had on a stylish and expensive looking jacket and glasses that somehow managed to suit him. As she peeked, his eyes suddenly flashed up to the window and she bolted down to the floor – had they seen her?

The echoing laughter told her yes.

Christ she hated boys. She REALLY hated them. It was about time she became a nun.

When they'd finished laughing, James recovered enough to ask why she had hidden.

"'Cos. She got off with me last night and she absolutely hates me. "

"Ah, right."

With that, the two boys walked off as Sirius began to show his newfound friend the highlights of his new abode.

"Everyone snogs there – if you haven't snogged someone there, you're a twat."

"They host dances in the village hall – never notice when you spike the punch."

"Dorcas Meadowes lives here – she's fit."

"Alice Prewett – got two older brothers who are twins. May murder anyone who tries to date her. Throw great parties though."

"That's school. It's shite. Hogsden Academy for absolute pillocks. Headmaster's alright. Absolutely barking though."

"I can't believe you got off with Sirius Black!"

"For god's sake Dorcas – just SHUT UP!"

Dorcas pursed her lips and tossed her blonde curls over her shoulder. "There's no need to be mean," she said reproachfully, widening her big brown eyes, "lots of people have got off with Sirius Black. Not many of them were perfect Lily Evans – but what can you do sweetie? I blame the cider. You don't realise you're getting drunk until BAM! You've got the worst hangover and Sirius Black hanging outside your house."

Lily groaned into her pillow.

Dorcas bit her lip and then leaned down next to her to whisper: "Have you heard from him?"

Lily sighed and removed her face from the pillow. "No." she whispered, "Not a bloody thing."

"Oh god Lily. What an ARSE. What are you going to do?"

Lily shrugged. "He's not my problem anymore. He made his bed. Let him lie in it."

Soon it got late and James admitted he should go home. On mentioning he lived up the hill, it was to his delight he found out Sirius did too. Soon they trudged up the hill and found themselves standing side by side, staring up at the neighbouring houses.

"Fancy that."

"Black. Black House. Makes sense."

"Look at you – a right Sherlock." Sirius snorted at his own joke, ignoring the frown James sent his way. His smile soon faded. "I'll see you tomorrow? Promise?"

The sudden vulnerability of the questions made James turn in surprise and nod. Sirius was looking up at the house with a sort of grim determination. Bracing his shoulders, he climbed up the stairs and slipped inside the house.

James stayed for a few minutes more, hearing a woman shout in anger, then silence.

Slowly he headed up his own stairs, watching as the front light next door was turned off and as the curtains twitched shut.

Bloody hell. He was glad that he wasn't Sirius – and wished he knew why sitting on some girl's fence all day had seemed a better option than going home. Shaking the thoughts away, he opened the door and went to check on his parents. His mother was dozing gently and his father was reading a book in an armchair. There were boxes everywhere. A pang of guilt went through him – he'd been selfish today. Not that they'd tell him off. There were no arguments in the Potter house, it was like his parents were unable to.

Secrets coated the walls of this house and this village. They lurked in the dark of next door, behind the closed doors of the shops and in the thorns underneath the roses on the little cottage on the green. James found himself thinking of this cottage – of the flash of red hair he'd seen.
Redheads still weren't his type – but there were always exceptions to the rule.