A/N: For my numerous, pathetic excuses as to my horrendous lack of updates, see my profile. For the next chapter, see below and I hope that you enjoy it very much. For my apologies to said lack of updates, look here: I am so, so, so, so sorry. I know that I waited an awful amount of time. But this chapter is extra long, no? :)
Lily stared at her alarm clock. It was 12:00. She had to get to sleep soon. With a shaky sigh, she allowed the drowsiness to take over and sank into an un-satisfying, nightmare-filled sleep...
Chapter 2: McDonald's, Fate, and Bad Dreams
The Potters were lost. According to Harold, it should have been a three hour drive to the new house.
They had been driving for six. The digital green numbers of the clock on the dashboard read 12:04.
"Harold, really," Adora said. "I don't understand why you won't stop and ask for directions!"
"I told you, Addy," he said. "Male muggles don't stop for directions. I saw it on a television show. They just don't. Some weird cultural custom—don't ask me!"
"It could have simply been that one man—"
"No, I'm positive that they said that men will never ask for directions. Something about pride or masculinity, I don't know, Dear."
"We could just this once—"
"Adora, I thought that we were committed to this! The whole point of this is appreciating how hard the Muggles have it without magic, and I think that this is a perfect learning opportunity!"
"I guess you're right, Honey. Perhaps James should look at the map for a while and try to make some sense of it? You know how good he is with that type of thing."
"Don't wake him up, Sweetheart. He's asleep."
"Not," came a voice from the back seat. "Too hungry to sleep," it said. "Can we please stop?"
"Oh, Jamesie, don't you want to get home before nightfall?" Adora asked kindly.
"Must. Have . Food," Sirius croaked, his eyes still shut. James and Sirius were both sprawled out over the backseat, their eyes closed. They had been sleeping, but both were woken up when James's stomach had growled loudly about ten minutes prior—the last time that they had eaten was lunch on the train, and even then all that they had was stupid special-effects candy.
"I don't think you understand, Mum. If I don't eat something in the next half hour, I will die."
"Mmm," Sirius murmured his consent.
"Alrighty, then, boys, I guess we're on a new quest now!" Harold said excitedly. "What do you boys think—right, left, or straight up at this light?"
"Map, please," James said. And he and Sirius, with renewed vigor, began to search for the most likely place for a fast food restaurant.
Half an hour later, the Potters were full, happy, and making quite a scene in the sleepy McDonald's. Good-humored Mr. Potter, dressed in a basketball jersey tucked into Khaki pants with his pure white hair and beard, and loving Mrs. Potter, beautiful but almost elderly and dressed in an old crème sweater and overly flared orange pants, were loudly praising the food.
"This is the most delectable cuisine I have ever tasted!" Harold said loudly to the cashier kneeling at the counter with her head on her hands. "What do you call this?" He held up his hamburger.
She looked up at him like he was out of his mind. "That's a hamburger, honey," she said. "Is he driving tonight?" she asked Adora, looking honestly concerned. The Potters looked confused.
"Yes..." Adora answered heistantly, totally mystified.
James and Sirius, the two normal-looking people at the table, weren't paying attention. They were discussing possible pranking opportunities for the next year.
"No but think. Imagine Moony as Head Boy. We could get away with so much!" Sirius was saying.
"I dunno, Padfoot," James said. "I doubt Moony will get it—you know how temperamental he gets at his time of the month," they laughed quietly. It was a running joke between them—they were fairly sure that most people in their year thought that Remus was some freaky cross-dresser. "And you know Evans is gonna get Head Girl—she's bound to be brutal. There's just no way that next year's heads are going to be as cool as Frank and Alice."
Sirius sighed. "You're right, Prongs. We're just going to have to live up to the challenge."
They smiled devilishly.
"Well boys," Harold interjected. "Let's just make one quick stop at the toilets and then we'll be on our way!"
"I'm actually good," James said.
"Yeah, me too," Sirius added.
"I'll just stay here and pick up our trash, honey," Adora said.
"Alrighty, then! Just me!" Harold said as he walked jauntily off to the bathroom.
As soon as he was gone, they all three looked at each other. Adora began hesitantly.
"Should we—"
"Ask for directions?" James finished.
"Quickly, before he gets back?" Sirius added. Adora nodded her head.
"And I'll be happy to do the honors," Sirius said, looking at the pretty teenage cashier in approval.
The news was good—they were in Derbyshire, which was just to the southeast of Greater Manchester, their destination (Harold had been convinced that they were somewhere in Wales).
Within forty-five minutes, they passed a road sign. Partington: 3 miles it said.
"Well, would you look at that!" Harold said. "We're nearly there!"
"Wait," James said. "This is where we're staying? This town?"
"Sure thing, son! Beautiful, isn't it? Look at those fantastic towers!" He said, pointing to the smoke stacks.
James remembered a day almost seven years ago, sitting in a train compartment with a bunch of children, three of whom, unbeknownst to him, would become very significant figures in his life.
"So where are you guys from?" he had asked. The redhead had answered.
"We're both from a place called Partington," she had answered. James remembered wondering how someone as angelic as she had come from the same city—no, country! that the other boy had.
Now he wondered how, of all of the places in the entire world, his parents had ended up settling here. I must have done something right, he found himself thinking incredulously.
But the cheesier, cornier, more romantic side of him whose existence he would never, ever, acknowledge (except maybe to her) was rejoicing inside. He had always felt, ever since the age of eleven, a weird sort of knowledge that he and Lily Evans belonged together.
And that corny romantic side of him couldn't help but thinking that the world was righting itself, making two puzzle pieces that just fit together somehow find each other among all of the rest.
Of course, he wasn't sure if she still lived here—a lot could happen in seven years. But somehow, he just knew. It was his damn romantic side again.
Sirius was looking at him incredulously. So he remembered, too? That surprised James. But then again, Sirius did have a knack for remembering the weirdest of all details, like the poem written on the door to Gringott's Wizarding Back or that there was a stain on the Gryffindor common room carpet for three weeks in their second year.
"It's fate," James said to him, grinning madly.
Outwardly, he had all the appearances of jest, but inwardly, he couldn't help but being kind of 100 percent serious.
A woman lied on a towel on the beach. She was gorgeous, with vibrant red hair and sparkling green eyes you could get lost in. She looked happy—a smile pulled at the corners of her lips as she saw something in the water, lighting up her otherwise very calm face.
The waves crashed in a steady, calming rhythm that looked as if it was slowly putting the smiling woman to sleep. She was nodding off, trying to keep her eyes open and failing miserably.
The sky above her wasn't clear, nor was it stormy; it was covered in a blanket of grey clouds that weren't friendly or ominous. They were just clouds—very still, grey clouds. And the unusually calm sea was a darker shade of the same color grey, with small, three-foot waves that crashed once they reached the shore. A small breeze, barely noticeable, could be felt in the air.
The woman's eyes had completely closed when she heard a playful shriek coming from the water that looked to wake her slightly. She squinted, opening her eyes halfway, and saw three little girls on a small, circular raft close to the shore. The raft was barely big enough to fit all three of them, maybe four feet in diameter, and was sunshine yellow. The woman smiled again.
The first girl on the raft looked to be about fourteen, with strawberry blonde hair and very pretty features. She had the same green eyes as the woman on the beach, and they complemented her hair. She smiled as she splashed another of the girls.
The second girl looked about twelve, with pretty blonde hair. She was good-looking, but definitely faded into the background when placed next to the two others.
Because the last and youngest was just as beautiful as the woman on the beach, if not more, with the same eyes and hair color as the woman. The girl was young—maybe ten, but you could tell that she would grow into a breathtaking young lady.
The shriek had come from her—it was obvious. The eldest girl was splashing water on her, and she was smiling happily. The youngest girl turned and splashed the middle child, the blonde girl, who shrieked as well.
"Sissy, stop!" The girl yelled, but she was giggling.
The girls continued to play in the water, and the sounds of laughter could be heard over the sounds of the crashing waves. The woman on the beach began to breathe evenly, her eyes closed.
Meanwhile, the sky was turning an ever darker shade of grey, and yet the sea stayed unusually calm. The girls talked happily while sitting together on the raft.
Sometime later, the woman's eyes opened abruptly, and the scene she saw was far different than the one she had fallen asleep to. The sky was dark and cloudy, and rain looked as though it was minutes away from falling. The girls in the raft were much too far out to sea—much, much too far, and constantly drifting further. The woman's eyes filled with panic.
"Girls!" She yelled urgently. "Could you please come to shore, now?"
The girls climbed off the raft, ready to walk it back to shore.
Their feet didn't touch the bottom.
A distant rumble of thunder could be heard, and the girls, anxious now, held onto the raft, ready to swim back to shore together. They struggled against the sea, but were unsuccessful. They climbed back onto the raft.
And, as the first, desperate tears fell from the youngest girl's eyes, tears fell from the sky as well. It was raining, and the raft was being pulled further and further out to sea…
Lily Evans woke with a start. She sat up in her bed, breathing heavily, and put a hand to her cold face. It was wet; she had been crying while she slept. She closed her eyes and sighed internally. Why did she always have to visit that day in her dreams? Was it not bad enough that she relived it every time a Dementor was near?
Lily got out of bed warily and walked over to her window. The streets of her neighborhood were quiet as they always were on Saturday mornings, the rooftops kissed by the early-morning sunlight and the green blades of the just-watered grass glistening in a happy way. The houses were all the same, and Lily couldn't deny that the street, which was almost the definition of Suburbia, had a strange kind of beauty. Still, it was nothing like the majestic mountains and lakes she had woken up to the day before at Hogwarts, and she missed them.
Lily got dressed quickly, not even pausing to look at the clothes she randomly selected from her still-not-unpacked Hogwarts trunk. It was unlike her to leave the task of unpacking until later, but her trunk was her one connection to Hogwarts, and she was hesitant to store it away.
After Lily dressed, she sat on the edge of her bed. Her face was still damp; she hadn't completely dried it after she woke up. She had had the nightmare again. Her heart was still beating quickly from it and she felt jittery. It was a terrible way to wake up.
Lily walked over to her bedside table and opened the nearly-empty top drawer, taking out a small makeup bag. She walked over to the mirror above her dresser and emptied the contents onto the dresser's surface.
The bag wasn't filled with anything you might expect a normal teenage girl—even a wizard teenage girl—to have. It wasn't filled with any lipsticks or mascaras, or even the Witch Weekly recommended Forever Blush potion. It was simply filled with Chap Stick that looked to be several years old, facial powder and under-the-eye cream. Lily stared in front of the mirror applying the products. Like an expert, she dabbed and wiped until, after only about thirty seconds, she looked like she hadn't been crying.
