A/N: Okay, so I'm new here, and this would be my very first fan fic on this site. I decided to go with an O/C because I'm still not very confident writing as one of the canon. =/ Hope you enjoy, nonetheless!

Chapter 1

"Damn it," I muttered, as the resounding crash below my bedroom echoed around the house. There goes the china, then.

I counted to three, and right on cue a door was slammed, followed by the familiar screech on the pavement as the family car slid in the driveway, before zooming away. A few moments later I heard a crack sound, and I knew the house was empty again.

I sighed, shaking my head, before slamming my own bedroom door, the bang it made unable to satisfy me. I knew it wouldn't help matters any, but then again, I couldn't really do anything, can I? Except listen to the pair of them bickering like eight-year olds, that is. Truthfully, I never did like it much.

Last summer I went home, my mother had sat me down, complete with shakily steady voice and strong brown eyes, informing me that she and my father were having a bit of a squabble, but reassured me that everything was going to be fine, that both of them would mend their relationship together.

Showed how much a witch like her knew.

My father, who was a Muggle, always had a problem with the wizarding world. Whether he actually had a problem with Mum herself I never knew, but I remembered how he reacted when I first performed magic, about twelve years ago. Poor Snowball never did regain her pure, white fur again, even though the blue was flattering on her. He had looked at my mother, who calmly explained that I had inherited her wizard genes. Dad sighed, shaking his head like I did a few minutes ago, and went out to have a smoke.

Honestly, I never wanted them to have a divorce, but at the rate things were going, maybe it was the best solution. Not that I'd ever mention it to them if I ever want my two ears intact again.

Suddenly, something distracted me from the hideous soap opera that was my life. An unfamiliar tawny owl pecked at the window, looking rather harassed. I let it in, glad to see a letter tied on its leg. As I untied it, I noticed it was rather thick. No wonder the poor bird looked exhausted. As it sipped Lynx's water in her cage, I untied the bundle, revealing three letters, instead of one like I thought. I opened the one with the neat, slanted handwriting first.

Dear Lee,

How've you been? Here's hoping the parental duo hasn't managed to drive you up the wall already. Then again, you've survived six years with Prongs and Padfoot, so you probably do have an inkling of a chance. Peter and I have just arrived at the Potters' yesterday morning, but I wasn't able to write to you until now, what with Prongs and Padfoot finally able to do magic outside of school. I swear, I'll never look at cutlery or toenails the same way again after last night's dinner. Give me a week though; I might be able to regain half my appetite by then. Mrs. Potter's brilliant with her yelling, really. Nearly took out my ears; I'm surprised she didn't just hex the both of them. That probably wouldn't look good in their eulogies, though. Enough about me, then. Can't wait to see you, take care alright?

Love, Remus

I smiled, hearing his slightly cynical voice in my head. I opened the other two, eager to read the Misadventures of Potter and Black.

Dear Lee,

Sorry I've only written now, Padfoot can be such a prat at times. Don't tell him I said that, yeah? Anyways, hope you're doing alright. How's the situation back home? Do try to survive the mess; I need someone to get me into Lily's good books. Kidding. But I seriously do. I really think she's warming up to me! But anyways. This'll have to be a short one though; Mum's egging me and Padfoot about cleaning the yard now. Honestly, by the time we're done I'd have been married and Sirius'll be babysitting my kids. Who knew toenails on forks could look so, well, usual? Especially when they're painted steel. Whoops, she's climbing up. See you at the train!

Love, your over-protective brother,

James

Dear Lee,

How're things? And I know Prongs called me a prat; he's one too. You doing alright? Parents killed each other yet? Sorry about that, my superior sense of humour can be rather inappropriate and tactless at times. Honestly, I hope you're fine; we can't let James die of a broken heart, can we? In case you're asking, I didn't peek at his letter. I just know him too well. Uh-oh, I hear Mrs. Potter on the stairs. Something about how absolutely inappropriate it was to laugh at Mr. Potter choking on toenails. I'll see you on the train, alright? Take care.

Love, your other overly protective brother,

Sirius

I put the letters on my bedside table, grinning like a maniac. I missed those boys more than anything; they really were that much fun. Although I didn't really fancy eating steel toenails for dinner, allowing myself a little chuckle at the image of Mr. Potter swallowing them. I have a rather sick sense of humour, so sue me.

Lynx, my golden owl wasn't back from her hunting yet, so I left the letters alone as I climbed into bed, fully aware that it was only ten and I still had those bloody essays for Slughorn.

On second thought, screw it. I needed my beauty sleep anyway.

A/N: So, please tell me what you think about it! =)