"Bye, Em," my dad said, kissing the top of my head. "Be good, sweetheart."

"I will Dad. I love you. And Mum," I said, pulling away from my dad and hugging her, "I love you too."
She smiled and held me tight. "Love you, Emma."

I pulled back and put my hands in my pockets. "Okay. Bye Mum. Bye Dad. I'll be sure to send you letters yeah?"

"Not too often, sweetheart," Dad said. "You still need to have fun, this being your last year and all."

I was about to respond when I heard a familiar laugh from behind me. An arm threaded its way around my waist and a warm body pressed itself to my right side. Without looking I could visualize the messy black hair and the hazel eyes of the boy beside me.

"Emma have fun? Are you sure you know your daughter, Mr. Carlton?" the boy said, and I gritted my teeth.

But even though he was annoying me, my father only laughed. "Well then, can I trust you'll take care of her James? Make sure she doesn't stay cooped up in that room of hers and spend her seventh year doing homework when she should be having the time of her life," he said, wrapping an arm around my mum's shoulders.

James laughed and squeezed me tighter. "Duly noted, Mr. Carlton. Now we have to go or we'll miss the train. Emma," he said, gesturing towards the train, "after you."

I gave him a forced smile and said my last goodbyes to my parents before walking away with James's arm still on my waist, my trunk on the trolley behind me. Once we were out of my parents' sight, I threw his hand off me and glared at him.

"Bloody hell, James," I said fiercely, glaring at him. "Why did you feel that it was necessary to talk to me today? It's supposed to be a good day."

He brought one of his hands to his heart and acted taken aback. "Why, Ms. Carlton, I never." He winked at me and smirked. "Anyways, don't flatter yourself. I'm here because of Molly."

"Molly?" I thought of the quiet, blonde-haired Weasley girl that was my best mate. "Why did you come to me to talk about Molly? I haven't seen her since she went on that fancy Europe tour with her family."

"Well that's exactly it. Aunt Audrey sent Mum a letter with photos of the trip. Emma, I don't think Molly is… the same Molly as she was last year," James said, his easy smirk falling.

I rolled my eyes and raised one of my eyebrows at him. "So all you wanted to tell me is that Molly isn't the same girl she was last year?" I scoffed and gave a harsh laugh. "I realize that she's Head Girl this year, James. That's not all that surprising. If that's all, you can leave now."

I turned around to walk away when James shot out his arm and grabbed my hand. "Emma, that's not it. Molly isn't Molly anymore. I just don't want you to be unprepared for what's about to happen."

"First," I said harshly, slipping my hand out of his, "don't touch me. Second, I don't care. Molly is my best mate and you're always over exaggerating, James. Why should I believe anything you say?"

James smirked. "Because I'm usually right."

"You told my boyfriend in third year that I had contagious consciousness," I accused, crossing my arms and glaring at him.

He shrugged and ran a hand through his messy hair. "You were dating Phillip Belby. Do you blame me?"

"Fourth year, you told Marvin Wood that I was gay."

"The slimy git asked you out only because he thought he could cope a feel on the first date."

"Last year, I was going to ask Liam Denters to Hogsmeade, so you got Jacqueline Myers to do it before I could."

"Denters and Myers are really happy now. Call me Cupid!"

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, I'll call you something, James. But it won't be Cupid."

James smirked and tipped an imaginary hat at me. "Well, don't say I didn't warn you!"

**********

I was walking down the train corridor, looking for a compartment, when a familiar voice pierced the air, making me turn around and smile when I saw the tuft of red hair.

"And in the right corner, weighing in at only some amount of pounds, the blonde-haired, blue-eyed, over 5 foot terror of a girl: Emma Carlton!" Fred cried, stretching out my name. "Now, how is my favourite fighter today?"

I laughed as the redheaded boy walked up and wrapped me in a hug. "Freddie! I'm good, doll. How about you? But seriously though, you have to stop watching American wrestling, Freddie."

"MMA, love. Mixed Martial Arts. And good, although James caught up with me a couple minutes ago," he said. He passed by me to open a compartment and shoo away the first years that were there, ignoring my protests. "Dear old James says that Molly's something different."

I shrugged and sat down on one of the benches in the compartment. "Yeah, he cornered me earlier. In front of my parents too. I couldn't even hex him."

"Oh, how is Mr. and Mrs. C?" Fred asked, stretching out to take up the entire bench.

"Dad's been hit hard by the Ministry closures. Lost his job about four months ago but he didn't tell me until I got back home." I sighed and ran a hand through my firty blonde hair. "Mum's been doing good though. I guess florists are still in demand. You know she got hired for that Glaston wedding last month? Major galleons with that job."

Fred's easy smile faltered. "You know, Emma, if you ever need anything–"

"I've got it covered, Freddie," I said, smiling. "We may not be swimming in money like you and the rest of the Weasleys and Potters, but my family can take care of ourselves. How's the shop, by the way?"

"Look, Emma, I didn't mean it like that," Fred said apologetically.

I smiled and reached over to pat him on the knee. "I know, Freddie. I know. But seriously, how's the shop?"

"Uncle George wants Fred to try running the shop over Christmas," a voice said from the compartment door.

I looked over to see a familiar face framed by white-blonde hair. The girl's bright blue eyes sparkled as she walked over and nearly pushed Fred off of the compartment bench in order to free up a spot for her, despite Fred's protests.

"Freddie!" I exclaimed, turning my watery blue eyes towards him. "That's wonderful! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Still calling him Freddie, I see," Dominique said. "And not even greeting me, Em? For shame!"

"Dominique!" I mock-cried, standing up and hugging her before sitting back down across from her and Fred. "It's great to see you. How was your summer? Do anything exciting? Heard about Molly?"

"It's good to see you too, Em," she stated simply, smoothing out the wrinkles in her skirt. "The answers to your questions would be: good, not really, and yes, James just passed me in the hallway. Said something about 'trying to find the she-devil to show that ungrateful unbeliever that he was right.'" Dominique gave me a funny look. "I'm assuming that you're that ungrateful unbeliever."

I shrugged. "Who knows? It's James. I've always said that poor boy's head was never screwed on properly."

"Emma, you've got to lay off James," Fred sighed, stretching out again and laying his legs across Dominique's lap. The fiery blonde glared at him but didn't do anything. "He's really not that bad."

"Six years with the tosser and I can't say I believe that, Freddie."

Dominique pursed her lips and adjusted Fred's legs on top of her own. "You just have to give him a chance, Em. Merlin knows that I've just gotten used to the bloody beast and I've known him for seventeen years."

I smiled. "Sure, Dominique. Anyways, what exactly did you do this summer?"

And so, Dominique launched into the tale of her crazy summer. Having a curse breaker dad sure did have its perks. This year she went to Cancun with her family and got royally sunburned. I could still see the semi-tan lines that outlined her sunglasses.

Of course, during her story, Fred kept interrupting and peppering it with jealous comments about how he wouldn't have gotten sunburned. Then Dominique got mad and asked why Fred got the nice caramel skin while she got her father's easily sunburnt complexion. To which I responded that genetics were random and that was probably why my half-sister Rhonda had gotten my mother's long legs and her bright green eyes, while I got her lifeless hair and slightly crooked nose.

And then Fred and Dominique got into a fight about whose gene pool was better and why exactly they were better than the other. As they bickered about why Dominique's eyes meant she was slightly better than average since it was a shade lighter than most, and how Fred was that much cooler than Dominique because he was a true Weasley with red hair, I sat there across from them and watched, laughing when I should laugh, and jumping in when one of them was going too far – Fred was about to argue the point of bum hair length.

Dominique was as ravishing as ever, her eyes flashing as she stood her ground, her hair seeming to fly around, even though there was no wind. Of course, I knew that was the faint trace of Veela blood in her that reared its head whenever she got worked up.

And Fred was the same he always was, the darker skin from his mum, his vibrant Weasley hair, his easy smirk. If you didn't know any better, it would be hard to think them related.

But I did and I could see the slight curve in their noses, their bow-shaped lips, and the almond shape of their eyes. They were small things, but the similarities were there. They had been since the first time I met those two. Dominique always said it was because of luck, but I had always known that they were somehow related.

Less so with James, though. He had inherited a lot of his father's features, but his eyes were distinctly Weasley; almond-shaped like the best of them.

I looked around the rest of the compartment, taking in the faded brown of the wood panelling and the funny looking stain on my purple bench about the size of a quarter. I made sure not to sit on that. The window was speckled around the edges with dirt, but the rest was clean, and I could see the green blurs of trees as we whizzed past. The rickety train bounced back and forth along the tracks and the bags overhead moved along the shelf, nothing holding them down.

I was a little worried as I saw Fred's bag bulge as if something was struggling against it, but assured myself it was just a trick of the mind. I turned my attention back to the two bickering cousins in front of me and laughed at their antics. Fred had just called himself twice the man Dominique was, and Dominique had just pulled out the 'I'm-a-beater-and-you're-not' card. But just as things were about to get ugly, we heard a knock on the compartment door and we all turned to see James, his easy smirk pressed against the glass.

"Bloody immature bastard," I muttered as I rolled my eyes. But even so, I stood up and opened the door, letting him fall into the compartment flat on his face. "What the hell, James?"

He turned over and smiled at me from the ground, winking. "Well hey, Em! How's it going, love?"

"First," I said, glaring at him, "Dominique's the only one to call me Em. Second, I'm not your 'love.' And third, I was doing fine until you got here."

"Oh, you wound me, love!" He said, as he got up, locked the door and sat on the bench I had been on moments before. "So I found dear old Molly. She's getting Lucy settled, but she said she'd be down in a moment. Excited to see that I was right?" he asked, winking again.

I rolled my eyes and sat down beside him. "Fuck you, James."

"Is that an offer, sweetheart?" He winked again and I nearly decked him. I guess I looked murderous because he put his hands up in surrender. "Sorry, Emma. Anyways, heard you went to Cancun, Dominique. How'd that go? I see you got sunburned."

"Shut up, James," the fiery blonde said with a smile. "Anyways, I did go to Cancun. Beautiful sun, beautiful beaches, beautiful boys!" She winked at me with the last word and Fred rolled his eyes.

"Dominique, sometimes I worry about your priorities," Fred said, rolling his eyes at me.

It was a long running joke that Dominique couldn't keep her hands off a cute boy, although she never made it past the belt. Even though she was a whiz kid when it came to school – courtesy of her dad – Dominique usually said that all she really wanted to study was pretty boys. Lucky girl had her pick.

Well, except for Teddy Lupin.

All the Weasley girls had once had a fancy on Teddy, even little Lucy who was still going through that phase, but Dominique's fancy went a whole lot deeper. The poor girl was subjected to see the handsome boy almost every day since he was marrying her sister Victoire in a few weeks.

Not that she hadn't made a pass at him before.

Every single one of us still remembered the Christmas when Dominique was seven and tried to catch the eleven year-old Teddy under the mistletoe. That was what we brought up whenever we wanted to make Dominique embarrassed or make any situation uncomfortable for her. So now Dominique tried to get over her impossible fancy for her sister's fiancé by snogging cute boys whenever she could.

"Four boys, Fred. It wasn't that bad," Dominique sighed.

James rolled his eyes from beside me. "Dominique, weren't you there for a week?"

"Yeah, so?"

"What did you do for the other three days?"

There was an uproar. Fred started yelling at James, saying how much of a prat he was (though I could see the smirk on his face); Dominique was attempting to get up and strangle James if I could guess correctly, but Fred's legs were in her way; I was hitting James and telling him that he wasn't wanted and that if he was going to keep acting like a bloody bastard that I was going to kick him where the sun don't shine; James was screaming and trying to dodge my fists; and some girl with pink hair was standing at the door.

"Wait, wait, wait!" James screamed, finally grabbing my wrists and staring me in the eyes. "Kill me later, why don't you? For now, I would like you to look over at the door and tell me I wasn't right."

I glared at him but did so. The girl at the door had short pink hair, three piercings in her left ear, four piercings and a bar through her right ear, one eyebrow piercing, two nose piercings, one of which had a chain linked to one of the earrings on her left ear, and a lip ring. She was wearing black trousers that were so skin-tight I couldn't believe blood flow was still possible. She wore some sort of black platform shoes on her feet with heels so high and so sharp they could have been needles, with spikes on the three-inch platforms.

Her top was a long-sleeved black number with a v-neck so low I could hardly believe it. She also wore a leather vest with chains running down from the breast pocket to the side pocket. Spikes were also on the vest's shoulder straps, and it had a collar that was popped up and hit the girl just at the chin. She had deep red lipstick and a black bandana in her pink hair, and thick, dark eye makeup lined her almond-shaped, hazel eyes. The same almond-shaped hazel eyes that the boy holding my wrists had.

"Molly?" I asked incredulously, standing up. "Molly?"

I stood up and James let go of my left wrist. With that hand, I unlocked the compartment and opened the door. Molly smiled coyly and pursed her lips.

"Well if it isn't Emma Goody-Two-Shoes," she said, taking a red lollipop out of her vest and opening it. She stuck the lollipop in her mouth and threw the wrapper on the ground. "It's great to see you Emma. I can't believe I had to spend my summer without seeing you." She stepped forward and wrapped me in a hug. "We have so much to talk about. First, you won't believe the guys they have in Italy. Two words: Gor. Geous."

She pulled away and smiled at me and I hesitantly smiled back. "Yeah, it's good to see you too, Molly. But, um, Goodie-Two-Shoes?"

"Yeah. You haven't even kissed a boy, little Emma. Although, that technically isn't your fault…" She frowned and pursed her lips as she looked over at James. Suddenly, her eyes widened and she smiled. "So… are you two a thing now? Why didn't you tell me?"

I looked over at James and saw that he was still holding my right wrist. I yelped and pulled my hand away, cradling it as if he had burned me. Then, I turned back to Molly.

"We are not a thing, Molly," I said, glaring a James.

"Actually it's Mo."

I turned back to my best mate. "Mo?" I questioned. "Why in the world would you want to be called Mo?"

She shrugged and popped the lollipop out of her mouth. "Molly's such a soft name. The name of someone who does her homework, wears pastels all the time, and who never does anything remotely fun. Mo's just more… me!"

I felt the blood drain from my face. I barely heard her as she asked me if I was okay, so I nodded and hoped it was the right answer. She smiled and put the lollipop back in her mouth seductively, giggling and winking as she did so. I felt James's hands on my waist and barely registered that he was pulling me back down to sit on the bench again. Molly, er, Mo, looked around the compartment and then decided to shove James over, pushing him against me. It was a James sandwich with Molly, er, Mo, and I as the bread, although I was the only who was getting squashed.

But I barely noticed it. Mo had said that Molly was the name of a girl who does her homework, wears pastel, and doesn't do anything fun. But that was exactly what Molly was. She was in line to be Head Girl, she had passed all her O.W.L.s with flying colours, – and then decided to do more over the summer through a special program – she never gave in her homework later than three days before it was due, her boyfriend was Matthew Delaray who was in line to be Head Boy, she did extra credit when she was bored on Hogsmeade weekends, and she only ever wore makeup whenever she and Matthew went on a date – their dates were library dates and she would only ever wear a hint of mascara and lip gloss.

'Mo' as she called herself now was dismissing everything that Molly was, and everything that I loved about her. My best mate was now longer my best mate. She was someone completely different, and I didn't think I liked it. I cleared my head and focused on what I was staring at: the ashen faces of Fred and Dominique. They seemed as surprised and confused as I was. I slowly turned to James, realizing that I was clutching his arm

"That's not Molly," I whispered, my voice cracking at her name.

He gave me a sympathetic smile and slipped his hand out of my grip to wrap it around my shoulders. "I told you so, Emma. I told you that you wouldn't like it," he murmured into my hair.

I nodded slowly. He had. For once, James had told the complete and utter truth to help others instead of himself. I leaned into him, letting his warmth comfort me. My head was pounding so I closed my eyes, and before I knew it I had drifted off, dreaming about a time when none of my friends had facial piercings and looked like they belonged in a tattoo shop.