Won't have access to internet this weekend, so I'm posting early.
As always, thanks to everyone that reviewed, alerted, and favorited! And to those people who put this on their favorites and story alerts and didn't review...you know what I'm going to say...
;)
Oh, how I've missed this town. It's basically my home away from home away from home. (The first home away from home is Hogwarts.)
I love all the little restaurants featuring seafood, the candy and fudge stores, and the shops selling beach chairs and towels. Everything smells like salt and sunscreen. And the pier! Don't get me started on the pier!
I can practically walk through this town with my eyes closed I know it so well.
It's a perfectly wonderful afternoon, and I'm walking through the town with my parents, Mr. and Mrs. Potter, and Potter. We're trying to find somewhere to eat. I'll eat anything as long as we get out of the scorching sun, but my parent's and Potter's parents have to be all like, "Well, what do you want?" and "Really, it's up to you!" In other words: We're getting nowhere. But no one else seems to mind except me. Or maybe they're really good at hiding it.
"Oh, Ella! Look at this lovely dress!"
Or they just really don't care.
My mother and Mrs. Potter rush over to a window at a little clothing store I've been into hundreds of times that never has anything good. My dad and Mr. Potter are strolling behind them talking about who-knows-what. I'm about to call it quits and eat my hand. My stomach starts rumbling. Again.
I didn't have time for breakfast this morning.
I start to wander up the street a bit, looking for a decent restaurant. Even though we just passed two. It's then that I see what surely must be a gift from the heavens: an ice cream shop. Yes!
I dig around in my pockets and find enough money for an ice cream cone. A couple summers ago I realized that money should be carried around at all times for any possible emergency. This is definitely an emergency.
"One small strawberry cone, please," I say to the tired looking man behind the counter when I enter the store.
I almost rip the ice cream out of his hand when he hands it to me.
I take a huge bite into the cone, only just restraining myself from shoving the whole thing in my mouth.
It's a good thing no cute guys are around. I'm sure this is highly unattractive of me. Unfortunately, I can't dwell on the hideousness of my eating habits as the ice cream is really cold. Like, really cold. I took so much ice cream into my mouth all I do is stand there trying to swallow a bit of the freezing mush that is currently numbing my teeth.
It is a really good thing there are no cute guys around.
"Watch out! The evil dragon is coming!"
"RAWRRRR!"
"Wha-?" I say as I turn around, my mouth still full of ice cream. The sidewalk is relatively empty, but I see a little girl running at me full speed with her arms waving in the air like a lunatic. I'm about to move but it seems that the ice cream has also numbed my brain (or I'm just naturally slow). I stand there like an idiot for about two seconds before the girl runs into me. Her flying arms hit my ice cream cone, knocking it forward and right onto my shirt.
Perfect.
I must have shrieked or made some sort of noise, because the little girl stops running, looks at me and my ice cream covered tank top, and immediately whispers, "I'm sorry." She looks about seven, and her eyes are beginning to water.
I'm still standing here with strawberry ice cream drenching my shirt when a boy around the age of nine comes running forward.
"Hey," he says, "how come you stopped-?" He sees my shirt. "Oh." He looks behind him at a teenage girl carrying a beach bag coming towards us. "You're gonna get it…" he teases. Almost instantly, the girl's tears spill out of her eyes and down her face.
I'm still standing here like an idiot.
"Tommy! Claudia!" the older girl admonishes when she is standing next to us. "I told you to watch where you were going! And I said no playing games in the street, or else we'll go straight home!" While she rants, I take the time to scrutinize her.
She has shoulder length, shiny, chestnut brown hair and skin the color of melted caramel.
"Tommy, go get some napkins." The boy turns into the ice cream shop at the elder girl's command. I'm assuming she's his sister.
She turns to look at me. "I'm so sorry. They were playing a game and…well…I tend to be a ditz in the summer and I didn't notice them not paying attention either, so…" She trails off and gives an apologetic yet friendly smile towards me.
There are wide chocolate brown eyes on her face, as well as a splattering of freckles across her nose and cheekbones. She's not supermodel gorgeous, but man, am I jealous of her looks right now. She's just got that look about her that makes you want to be her friend.
Which is why I say, "Oh, no worries. I can clean up my shirt with my—" I stop talking. With what, Lily Evans? Certainly not a magical stick of wood that can do anything you desire! "—special cleaning hands," I lamely finish.
There's an awkward pause. Then the little girl giggles. The girl my age starts to laugh, too. "You're funny," she says.
"Thanks." Funny? More like crazy. The boy, Tommy, comes back with the napkins and hands them to me.
"I'm Lily," I say after I attempt to get the pink mush off my shirt. I hold out my hand towards the girl.
"Claire," she says, shaking. "And this is Tommy and Claudia, my little brother and sister. I have to watch them today because my parents are really busy at the restaurant."
"You guys have a restaurant? Which one?"
"It's a new one: Hyde's Appetizing Assortments. Yeah, I know"—she crinkles her nose—"the name sucks. I told my parents that, but they said it was 'original'."
I laugh. "So you just moved here then?"
"Yeah, but I've already met practically the whole town through the restaurant! Do you live here?"
"No, I live in the outskirts of London. But I've come here every summer since I was little, so it's like my home." I smile.
"Claireee," Claudia whines, "I want to go to the beach!"
"All right, hold on," Claire shushes. I feel a bit disappointed. My opportunity at a fun, Potter-free summer is leaving because of a little girl's need to go to the beach?
"Well, I better get them to the beach. It's so nice out here; we can't help but go basically every day." Claire lightly laughs.
I grin. Should I ask if I could come with them to the beach tomorrow, then? Or is that rude?
"But like I said," continues Claire, "I've met tons of people, lots our age. There's going to be a bonfire on the beach tonight around ten. Wanna come?"
YES!
"Sure, where's it at?" I casually ask.
"Evans!" a voice calls out. A voice that could only belong to one person: Potter.
I look behind me and see Potter standing where I had left our parents, waving his arm to indicate that the four adults had entered the restaurant right next to the store where Mrs. Potter saw the dress.
I hold up my pointer finger to signal that I'll be another minute. I turn back to Claire, who's curiously looking at Potter's retreating figure.
"Sorry, that's James. My…friend. We go to school together."
Claire's focus returns to me and she smiles. "Then bring him tonight, too! It's kind of a beginning of the summer thing. It's nothing too fancy. But I heard there will be plenty of people there. It's down this street, behind the crab shack and a bit down the beach. You'll be able to spot it, though, no problem."
"Great," I say.
We start to walk down the street together. Claire mostly tries to make sure her brother and sister don't run in front of a car and get killed.
When I reach the door to the restaurant, I say goodbye to Claire, Claudia, and Tommy.
"See you tonight!" Claire calls out as she's dragged away by the "evil dragons."
I enter the restaurant; I already feel like my summer is looking up.
I invite James to the party. I don't know why. Claire told me to, so I figure I should. Maybe so he can meet some people, and then I would be free of him and my summers could continue on as normal.
Once the Potter and Evans families go their separate ways after lunch, I hang out around the house with my mum and dad for the rest of the day. I don't have a second thought about bringing Potter to the party, besides the fact that it means I have to hang out with him more.
As I'm walking over to this house, though, I'm beginning to doubt this plan. Potter has never been around Muggles who aren't related to any witches or wizards. At least, he hasn't been around Muggles where he had to actually interact with them. He doesn't know how to act, what to say, and—most importantly—what not to say.
What if he tells everyone there about Hogwarts and Quidditch and magic? We'd end up having to get a trial, and what if the Potters' money and influence isn't enough? What if we get sent to jail because of Potter's fat mouth? I am not going to spend however many years in Azkaban with Potter! I'd rather just get Kissed and let it be done with.
I compile a short list of all the things I need advise him about by the time I make it to his house. Which means that I know about three things I have to tell him, when he actually needs to learn about a hundred.
I ring the doorbell and wait. I notice that the Potters don't have a car with them. I guess that means they're walking or Apparating everywhere. After about two minutes, Mrs. Potter finally opens the door.
"Lily!" she says. "Are you here to take James to the bonfire you told him about?" She lets me inside. Their house is similar to ours: wooden floors, white walls, picture frames everywhere.
I nod, and then she says, "I think he's done getting ready. Come in, come in!"
Getting ready? It's a bloody bonfire. Why couldn't he have just worn what he was wearing today?
"Sorry I took so long to answer the door," Mrs. Potter says as she shuts the door behind me. "I was learning to use everything in the kitchen. We have Pinka, our house-elf, here with us, but I'd really like to try and do things the Muggle way. I tried to last night, and I ended up setting the kitchen on fire!"
I figured it was something like that. But I'm a bit amazed that she would actually try to do some things like a Muggle. The Potters are one of the oldest and richest pureblood wizard families, and here's Mrs. Potter trying to figure out how to work a blender.
"Oh well. We've got all summer to learn!" Mrs. Potter turns towards the stairs. "James!" she calls. "Lily is here!" Almost a heartbeat later, Potter suddenly Apparates next to me. I shriek. How embarrassing.
"Aw, Evans," Potter says, "haven't you gotten used to my super attractive self by now?"He smirks. Mrs. Potter rolls her eyes and walks away. I wish I can do the same.
"Right," I huff. Then I actually look at him. "What are you wearing?" He's wearing navy blue dress robes that I can already tell cost more Galleons than I'd care to imagine. "We're going to a party on the beach!"
"I know!" Potter says defensively. "What are you wearing?" He stares at my plain tank top and skirt.
"What everyone else is going to be wearing, idiot."
Potter falters. I bet he didn't expect that answer.
"So," he slowly says, "no one wears dress robes?"
"Er, no," I strictly say. "They usually wear shorts and a t-shirt, maybe a skirt or dress if you're a girl."
"Does that mean I have to change?" he asks.
We've got a slow one here, folks! "Yes, Potter. Go change. And hurry or we'll be late." We won't actually be late. It is past ten, but there is no "late" to these things. I just like to bother him.
"Into what?"
Good grief.
"Argh!" I throw my hands up into the air for good measure. "Where's your room?"
"Oh, you wanna just skip the party, Evans? I won't mind at all."
"No," I say through my clenched teeth, "so I can help you find something to wear and we can GO!"
Potter stares at me, and then walks away. Why that little…
"You coming?"
Oh. He's showing me his room. Ha, ha. I follow him down the hall, but then we make a left and go up the stairs. The whole place has that typical beach house feel: homey but almost as if it's never been lived in. Our house lost that never-lived-in feeling years ago.
We walk down another hall until we reach the second room on the right and Potter opens up the door. I follow.
His room is relatively clean, but plain. It's cleaner than what I expected it to be, for sure. There are two twin beds in the room with navy blue covers; the one closest to the door is rumpled looking. There are some textbooks on the floor, along with a few shirts, trainers, and Honeydukes wrappers. I even see his broomstick. Overall, it's not too bad.
"Uh, welcome to my room?" Potter says/asks. He nervously rubs the back of his neck. Odd, considering he's never been nervous before. Except the night before. I have to fight back a smile at the memory of him asking to be my friend.
"Where are your clothes?" He points to the brown dresser on the opposite side of the room. I march towards it and reach out to grab the handles of the first drawer when Potter is next to me in a flash, his hands over the drawer, successfully preventing me from opening it. His cheeks are the slightest pink.
"Not that one," he mutters. It must be his underpants drawer. Now that could be scarring.
I lower my hand to the second drawer, and look at him, almost asking for permission. He nods, so I open it. There are a few Muggle shirts in it, a good amount of Quidditch shirts and four wizard band shirts. I grab a plain dark green t-shirt and throw it at him.
I open the third drawer, and find a wider selection of Muggle jeans and shorts. I pick some shorts out and toss them to him as well.
Potter holds the clothes and stares at me, his mouth slightly open.
"I'm going outside," I say, "while you hurry up and change. Please." Please makes everything sound nicer, right?
I stand in the hall for barely a minute when Potter comes out again, his hair looking even messier than it did before. The rest of him looks…good, I unwillingly admit. Green is a fine color on him.
"Okay"—I smile at him—"let's go, Potter."
After we say goodbye to his mum and dad and tell them we'll be back by twelve thirty, we head out.
I see Potter eye my skirt, and then he asks, "Where's your wand?"
"What?"
"Your wand. You know the magical stick that your life basically depends on…" He's talking to me as if I'm a four year old.
"I didn't bring it," I say.
Potter stares at me like I've all of a sudden admitted that I'm in love with Professor Dumbledore. "What do you mean you didn't bring it?"
"I mean, I didn't bring it. Do you have your wand?"
"Yes."
"Then if Death Eaters attack our party, I'll find you and you can Disapparate us out of there, okay?" I say it as a joke. Not exactly something humorous, but more so that Potter will get off my back and see that there isn't a necessary reason for me to have my wand.
It's quiet. "That's not funny," Potter solemnly and quietly says. I look at him. His face looks very serious all of a sudden.
I don't know what to say back.
No one says anything for a few minutes, and then I remember that I need to inform him of the rules. I tell him this.
"Rules?" Potter scoffs as if the word doesn't exist in his universe. Which it probably doesn't.
"Yes, rules. And important ones at that, so pay attention!"
"Yes, Mum," Potter mocks.
I stop walking. "Listen, Potter, this isn't about me trying to reign you in and keep you under control, like at school." Potter stares at me, the smirk slowly fading. "This is about you talking to Muggles who have NO idea about our world for the first time, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't cause the whole town to think we're loonies or have a Ministry trial on our hands, understand? Or you can just go home right now and I'll go by myself!"
Potter gapes at me with his mouth open. He's got a funny look in his eyes. Good. Now he knows I'm serious.
"Okay," he finally says. We start walking again in silence.
"What are the rules?" he asks after we have a long uncomfortable silence.
"Right," I say, "Rule Number One: We go to a very small, nondescript school by the name of St. Peter's in the outskirts of Northern England. We'll be entering our last year of schooling in September. Just keep it simple, and try and avoid specific questions about what school is like and what you're going to do afterwards. I established that St. Peter's is a boy/girl school ages ago, so we're good there."
"Don't most girls go to all-girls schools?" the boy beside me curiously asks.
Damn. I shouldn't have brought that up. "Yes, but Severus came here with me once, and that's what I said then, so that's what I'm saying now," I tersely respond.
"Snivellus came here with you?" He sounds disgusted. I take a peek at his face and see that he looks it, too. I hope he isn't thinking anything perverted about us staying in the same house. He probably is, though. My thoughts are confirmed when Potter speaks again.
"Did you guys ever—?" He voice oozes revulsion and he waves his hands in the air. I don't have the desire to tell him that we were twelve when we came here.
As if Severus and I would ever…Oh. Now I have that idea in my mind! I don't want to think about us like that. It's hard enough to think about how we used to be friends; the possibility that we could've been more…
Okay, change of topic. Now.
"No. Now, Rule Number Two: No 'Oh, my Merlin!' or 'Holy, Agrippa!' or 'What in the name of Godric?', okay? Muggles don't know who they are."
"What? Then what do they say instead?"
I have to stop and think about that one. "Usually just 'Oh my God' or 'Good grief' or something like that."
Potter makes a face. "Weird."
"Just try to avoid phrases like the ones I just told you."
"Fine," Potter grumbles. "You do know that I'm not totally stupid with Muggles, right? I mean, when I came over to your house I thought you were a Muggle. And I told you our maid usually cooks, when it's really our house-elves and—"
He catches my glare. "Right, what's next?"
"Okay, Rule Number Three: I don't know if there's going to be alcohol or not, but if there is, don't drink too much of anything. You don't know how different Muggle drinks are from Firewhiskey and such."
I hear a snort come from beside me. Did he…Did he just snort? At me? "Please, Evans, give me a little credit. We've had Muggle drinks."
"Oh, yes, silly me. I forgot that you and your boys have had everything with a drop of alcohol in it," I sarcastically respond.
"We mustn't forget these things, Lily!" he says in a singsong voice. I roll my eyes. "Any other rules?" he inquires.
"This is the most important rule. Rule Number Four: If anyone brings something up that you don't know, pretend you know it. If they ask you what you think of something that you don't know, say, 'Terribly sorry, but that just reminded me of something I needed to ask Lily. Excuse me.' And then pull me aside and we can pretend to talk about something important. "
"'Terribly sorry?' What prat says 'terribly sorry?'"
"Plenty of people say terribly sorry, Potter!"
"Name one person who isn't a prat that says it."
"We—"
All right, fine. I was going to say Wes, but he was sort of a prat. I don't know why I dated him. Anyway, I try to quickly think of someone else who says 'Terribly sorry' to cover up my mistake, but Potter catches my slip-up before I can.
"Were you going to say Wes? I am not saying anything that git says!"
"Don't be dramatic, Potter."
"Don't be stupid, Evans. Can you look me in the eye right now and tell me that that guy wasn't a loser?"
I feel his gaze on me and I turn to look at him, fully prepared to tell him that Wes MacMillian was not a loser, but as soon as my green eyes are focused on his hazel ones, I can't. He's absolutely, one hundred percent right. I mean, Wes yelled at me for disturbing his studying time when I tried to snog him that one time in the library! Needless to say, we broke up one week later. I turn away from Potter.
"Rule Number Six," I say louder than necessary over Potter's laugh, "is that if anyone asks, we're friends." He immediately stops laughing. "And not as in we became friends last night, but that we've been friends. It's too difficult to explain that we go to a magical school together where we argued for years because you're a jerk but then you used to ask me out all the time but bullied my best friend who stopped being my best friend after he insulted my blood in front of half the school after you humiliated him so then we ignored each other for the past year, which is how I liked it because I don't like you, and now we're only at this party together because our parents want to observe each other or something like that." I say the last part in quite a rush, but it feels good to get off my chest.
Potter doesn't say anything. His brow is furrowed and he's got his hands shoved into his pockets.
"A bit harsh, don't you think, Evans?" he finally attempts to jokingly say, though I can't find a trace of humor in his voice.
"Is it not true?" I ask. He doesn't respond.
We don't say anything else, but I can already see a group of people and a bonfire down the beach.
And that is our very first official OC character, Claire! No worries; there will be more. But not an overwhelming amount. If anything, there's very few... James is still ignorant about Muggles, obviously. (Dress robes...honestly...) Also, just because they're saying they're friends, doesn't mean they're actually friends. Yet!
What did you like, what didn't you like? The next chapter will be up in about a week again. Keep those reviews and such coming! ;D
-MG
HOLY MOTHER. In chapter two I wrote that Lily almost went skinny dipping with Claire that one summer, but it was supposed to be Abigail. her very best Muggle friend! So to everyone confusedly scratching their heads, this is the first time Lily ever met Claire, and her almost skinny dipping-nature-hippie Muggle friend is Abigail. Thanks to NegligibleNaina for pointing that out!