Dear Sirius (I hope you don't mind me calling you that, it didn't seem right to refer to you by your surname in a personal letter.)

I hope this letter reaches you, and that Potter has not stolen it and read it for himself. I didn't put my name or address on the front, and hopefully he didn't recognize Themis. Please don't give him the letter, I'd rather he not partake in our conversations.

Yes, I said 'conversations.' Plural. I fully intend to converse with you frequently over the summer. I enjoyed spending time with you Tuesday in Diagon Alley (and in London, of course). I plan, if you're willing, to continue nurturing this seed that one might call a friendship.

I know that you and Potter are great friends, and I admire that, but I have a request that may make you uncomfortable. Please don't tell Potter about this correspondence between us. He'd needle his way in and ruin everything. If you feel you must tell him, then I understand, but I would rather if this didn't involve him. I'm having too good a summer for him to ruin it with his ways.

How are you doing? Now that I've gotten to the part I intended to write, I am not sure of the words. Funny how that happens, isn't it? But I do want to know how you are doing. You were very brave to open up to me on Tuesday, and given our history, I know that it was a stretch for you to trust me. I noticed over the years that you tend not to open up to people very easily, and I am very honored that you let me in, even if just a little.

I fully intend to keep my promise of keeping what you said, or write from here on, if you chose to, a secret between us. I want you to know that you can trust me. I can be your confidant. And if you have anything to get off your back pertaining Potter and what an arrogant idiot he is, then I am your most eager ear. Everyone seems to him and it would be nice to know that someone else knows he's not perfect. I'm sorry, I forgot he's your best friend. I suppose I shouldn't have said all that.

My summer is going well. My job is as boring as always, but at least I'm getting paid. Having Muggle money is useful when living in a Muggle area, but it's rather a pain to get it converted to Wizarding money. My family and I are going to Albton just before July turns to August. I'm very excited, because I absolutely love the ocean. Have you ever been to the shore?

Have you noticed, that with us being Of Age now, it's exceptionally hard not to use magic flagrantly? I know so many of our classmates, and indeed, much of the Wizarding Community, do use magic without any thought of consequence, but I try to be conscientious of any Muggles about. I swear, some witches and wizards don't even recognize when Muggles are around! It drives me absolutely insane. Apparating and Disapparating too. It's so stressful to make sure no one is looking in your direction, or might notice if you suddenly disappeared. But I'm getting the hang of it.

I'll let you in on a secret, since you let me in on one of yours. I was scared to learn to Apparate. And it didn't help that Potter had such predisposition for it, so I went ahead and learned it anyway, even though I wanted to wait until this year to get certified. Thinking back, I think it was good that I forced myself to learn it, because it's heavenly useful. It's bad enough that he's so good at flying. Which leads me to my second secret. I hate flying. Because I can't do it. Because I'm afraid of heights.

And because flying is unnatural and humans shouldn't do it.

That's why I have a hard time going to Quidditch games. It's not because I hate the sport, or because I hate Potter so much I don't want to watch him show off (which I don't.) It's more that I get so vexed and anxious watching people zoom about at the risk of death, that I swear, I'm on the verge of an anxiety attack the entire game.

And yes, that includes Potter. I don't think even his inflated head could keep him in the air, if he fell off his broom. And I would be sad if he got injured. There was that time last year, when he hit the stands headfirst, and fell, about twenty feet? He had a concussion and was bleeding, and I thought my heart had stopped. I almost went to the Hospital Wing to wish him a speedy recovery, but then I remembered all the time he had humiliated me over the years, and I realized he would just use it as an excuse to humiliate me further.

Don't tell Potter I was worried about him, or me not going would be a moot point.

I have now written two pieces of parchment, and I know you do not have the best attention span for such things, so I will refrain form writing any more. Please write back. It's up to you, of course, but I would like to write to someone. It's nice to write to someone who does not know nearly everything about you already, like my friends.

(Also, Themis brought some chocolate chip cookies, and are my late great-aunt's recipe. I made them just for you. Feel free to share them with Potter if you'd like, and his parents. Although I'm not sure how good they are compared to Mrs. Potter's baking.)

I'm ending this letter before I have to get a third piece of parchment.

Please write back,

Lily Evans.

The last few lines were scrawled in tiny, unorganized writing as she ran out of space. Sirius sat back against the pillows of his bed, gazing down at the two pieces of parchment, before setting them down carefully beside him, picking up the strange container brought by Lily's owl. It seemed to be made of some kind of glass—and yet did not feel like glass at all. Was this that 'plastic' that Remus and James had told him about? But he didn't care to speculate any further on the container, for as soon as he removed the lid with a spell, a wondrous smell drifted up to him. He picked up one of the large cookies.

Lily Evans had enchanted them to stay warm, as if they had just come out of the oven.

"She's spectacular," he murmured, the first time he had ever associated the word with Evans, and took a bite.

And that was then that he decided he was going to write back, if only to request that she send him baked goods with every letter she writes.

After a few moments of peaceful indulgence, the door to his room opened, and James stepped in. "What's that smell?" he asked, looking around with definite curiosity. "It smells amazing—is it—" he stopped, when he saw Sirius with the strange container. James grinned, bounding over over to the bed and reaching into the container.

"Hang on!" Sirius protested, grabbing the letters and folding them, stuffing them under his pillows. "Ask before you take any."

"You have like, twenty of them," James said, giving Sirius an annoyed look.

"Yeah, and they were made especially for me," Sirius replied. "So if I give any to anyone else, it'll be out of the goodness of my kind and generous heart."

James rolled his eyes, making a face. "May I have a cookie?" and under his breath, but loud enough for Sirius to hear, he added, "Greedy bastard."

Sirius charitably offered him the container, and scowled when James took not one, but two cookies from it.

"Who sent them to you anyway? Wormtail and Moony are shit at baking," James said as he bit in. He looked at the cookie in interest. "This is really good," he said, awed. "And don't think I didn't see those letters you were so quick to hide. Do you have a girlfriend or something?"

"No," Sirius replied honestly. "Just a friend sent a letter and some cookies along with it."

That seemed to stump James. "Who was it?"

"Doesn't matter," Sirius shrugged. "What do you want to do today?"

"I want to eat these cookies," James said, reaching for another, but Sirius slapped his hands way. "What?"

"They're mine, made especially for me, and I intend to eat all of them," Sirius said, placing the strange lid on the container and setting it aside. No doubt they wouldn't spoil quickly, but he doubted they would last long before they were all eaten. If not by him, then by James, who seemed to be a in a famished state at all times.

"We could go flying," James offered.

"Alright," Sirius agreed, though he did not feel much like flying. They seemed to do that more than anything else over the summer holidays, and Sirius had gotten bored of it already. The thing with James being so rich was that their house-elf did most of the work around the house, and his parents, who were retired, did the rest. So he and James were mostly left to entertain themselves. One could only play Quidditch, or chess, or Exploding Snap, so many times in a day. And while James had no problem getting up to mischief, Sirius always felt a bit of… guilt, he supposed was the word, doing anything that might, even benevolently, make Mr. and Mrs. Potter's life hard. They were, perhaps, the only adults whose opinions and good favor he actually cared about. But after a week or two he knew he'd give into James' desire to pull pranks, or work on pranks for the upcoming school term. Good behavior could only be kept up for a short amount of time.

As they zoomed around the Potter's expansive gardens, Sirius pondered how James would react if he knew that Evans had written Sirius a letter. Would he be angry? Or would he demand that Sirius try to persuade Evans to go on a date with him? And if James read the letter… and realized Evans didn't know how to fly…. James would no doubt come up with some scheme to teach her how to fly on a date. It would end badly and Sirius would probably have to find a new best mate afterwards.

"I'm going to go wash up and then write some letters," he told James, when they had come in from flying. James merely grunted tiredly from the kitchen counter.

Sirius returned to his room, washed up in the washroom, and sat down at his desk. As he took out what he needed in order to write the letter to Evans, he sat there, puzzled over what he should write. He had never written a letter to Evans before. Actually, that was a lie. He wrote lots of letters to Evans before. Howlers in which he sang crude songs, joke letters, prank letters… he almost regretted them now, but not really. He was not used to conversing with Evans. It felt strange and jarring that they had suddenly crossed over such a barrier.

Dear Lily (I'm returning the favor and calling you by your first name as well)

I hope you're alright

Those cookies you sent were incredible. I've never tasted any so good. James wanted to eat all of them. Don't worry, I didn't tell him you were the one who made them, or he'd mummify them and display them in a case in the room where his family keeps some of their heirlooms.

I would like to recommend you send me some baked goods with every letter.

I'll have you know that James has only mentioned you short of ten or so times since the holidays started That's a record low for him. And Mrs. Potter mentioned twice that she would like to meet you. Maybe sometime you could come here and meet them (I'm joking. James would probably die from joy and shock)

How are things with your sister?

Sirius paused, contemplating how to continue.

When is your date with Nesbit? I promise I won't tell James, or he'll sink into a depression. He really is quite crazy about you.

Anyway, that's all I have to write.

Write back if you feel like it.

Sirius.

He gave the letter to his owl, a barn owl named Balls, short for a slightly more inappropriate name he had thought was hilarious when he had first gotten him as an almost First Year. Now the damn thing wouldn't answer to anything else. He almost opened the letter to tell Lily this, and to describe the look on Mrs. Potter's face when he had begrudgingly told her what the owl's proper name was, much to Mr. Potter and James' amusement. But he had written enough, he thought, and sent Balls on his way.

He ate some more of the cookies, and by then Prongs had recovered from the heat, and was back in his room, demanding Sirius give him some of them as well.

Lily cleared her throat, and was rewarded by silence. She set her jaw, and stepped into the kitchen, where Petunia was sitting at the table, reading a book. "Hello, 'Tuney," Lily said, "Do you mind if I sit with you?"

The only indication that her sister heard her was the slight shifting of her position in her chair, so that Petunia now sat facing a different direction than Lily. Lily decided to take that as a Petunia Evans classic: 'no, but I won't acknowledge you either way', and fully entered the kitchen, placing her own book on the table and sitting down. She contemplated using her wand to prepare tea, but knew that would only irritate and instigate the present situation.

So she stood up and put the kettle on, and returned to her seat, aware that Petunia was watching her out of the corner of her eyes. "What?" Lily asked, looking up from her book.

Petunia pursed her lips, straightened her back more than it already had been, and ignored her.

Lily scowled, and focused on her own book instead.

To be honest, she had been rather banking on an internship at the ministry this summer. The tenseness of the holidays at the Evans' household was becoming too much to bear. She peered at Petunia again over the top of her book, and the young woman stiffened again.

"What do you want?" Petunia asked, finally turning to look at her.

"Nothing," Lily said quickly. "I just looked at you. What, is that a crime these days?"

"It is when a creepy, fat, freak like you does it," Petunia snapped, standing up and grabbing her cup of tea, the contents sloshing precariously, and stalked from the room. Lily watched her leave, eyes stinging. She stood up to finish preparing her tea.

She walked back to the kitchen table and sat down. She sighed. She was jealous of Marlene, who was interning at the ministry this summer. She was also jealous of Alice—who had graduated and was working towards making a difference.

Mary was visiting family in the Dominican Republic, which sounded far more enticing than being stuck in Cokeworth for the summer with Petunia, and who knew what Dorcas was doing. She sighed, and blew on her tea, before taking a sip. Her book was interesting, but wasn't holding her attention for long enough to get any headway in it.

This was the problem with growing up, she thought to herself, as she took her tea and book out the back garden and sat down on the garden sofa. One's friends grow up too, and are not always readily available for entertainment or guidance.

She sat up suddenly. That's right. She did have a person she could write to that was far too immature to be doing something sensible with his time. She took her tea and book, and yet again stood up from her seat. By the time she got to her room, she felt abuzz with excitement. Why didn't she think of it before? Sirius Black.

He could be her confidant as well.

Sirius opened the letter, Themis hopping from one foot to the other, eyeing Balls with dislike.

Dear Sirius,

I am very pleased you wrote back to me. I'm glad you seem to be in better spirits.

My date with Nesbit has not happened yet, and I am very nervous about it. We've set a date—a few days before I leave for Albton. Our agreement was, if we enjoyed the date, we would start things officially at the start of term, with writing to each other over the summer. That way we don't have to deal with a long distance relationship over the holidays. I'm very nervous about the date.

I already said that.

But it's true. He's always dated girls that were far… well, prettier than me—and thinner. I don't know why he even agreed to go out with me. And I wouldn't have asked him, if Mary and Marlene and Alice had not encouraged me so much. And Dorcas was practically prepared to ask him for me. I'm going to miss her this coming up year. They seem to think I'm a catch, but I doubt any guy would agree with that, no matter what you said (and I refuse to believe that my only redeeming qualities are my ass and 'knockers' thank you very much.) Any dates I've ever been on have always ended disastrously, although I'm not sure if that's because Potter always gets in the way and messes everything up, or if I'm just not worth the hassle Potter brings to the equation. Either way, that's why I wanted a date with Karl over the holiday, before term started up again, so Potter couldn't show up and do his usual trickery. I'd like to feel like I'm worth it, you know? To have a guy be genuinely into me.

How is Potter, by the way? Being his usual annoying self?

Sorry, this has turned into a bit of a bitter letter. I'll try to talk about something more positive.

Marlene is enjoying her internship at the Ministry, and Alice is doing well in Auror training. Mary has gone abroad for the holiday, to visit some relatives. Dorcas is doing something that she says she can't talk about. I'm rather curious, but I've decided not to press matters. Whatever it is, I think it's serious. I'm worried, but I trust she knows what she's doing. As such, I'm afraid no one has much time to write to me, and so I think you'll find I'll be sending you quite a few letters. Usually the five of us get together a few times for the summer… when we ran into each other the other day, it was because it was our last chance to hang out before everyone left to go do something incredible. It'll be sad now that Dorcas and Alice have graduated. I'll really miss them.

They usually visit me in Albton, and we spend a few days by the shore together… but that won't be happening this summer since everyone is so busy. Perhaps, if you'd like, you could visit me? Sans Potter, of course. Only if you'd like, no pressure, but it's wonderful and lovely and I think you'd like it.

And I daresay I will not be visiting Potter's house. I don't want to go anywhere near anything that belongs to him. No. Thank. You.

Anyway, I'm sorry that this letter is rather distasteful… I spoke with Karl yesterday to confirm the date of our date, and it reminded me about Potter and his habit of getting in the way of my chances for romantic happiness. I swear, I don't know why he thinks it'll work. I might consider dating him if he had any respect for me. Don't tell him I said that, or I'll castrate you. The last thing I need is Potter pretending to be mature and respectful just so I'll agree to go out with him.

I'm ending the letter here because the mere thought of Potter is making my blood boil.

Please write back, with something incredibly embarrassing about Potter, so I can have a good laugh.

Lily.

Sirius raised his eyebrows, setting the letter down. He could hear her voice through the words on the page. He opened a box and placed the letter inside with her other one. He charmed the box shut, so that James, should he desire to, couldn't open it.

It was odd, her wording. He had to admit, Prongs had a habit of getting in the way a lot whenever she dated someone. But he hadn't actively tried to sabotage any relationships since before last Christmas. Granted, Sirius wasn't sure if Lily had any relationships since last Christmas. If James hadn't mentioned it, perhaps she hadn't tried dating anyone in the last six or so months.

Which only incited a bit of irritation. Why couldn't she see that James had matured? Everyone else saw it. He'd grown up a lot over the last few months, and at this rate, by the time school came around, he'd be so mature and grown up that Sirius would have to find a new best mate.

But Lily never seemed to notice those things. He doubted she would ever see him as anything other than an immature prat.

Irritably, he pulled out a piece of parchment, and scribbled,

Lily

I understand you are kind of pissed about James, but he's grown up a lot and I think you're being too hard on him

He paused here, wondering if this was a smart thing to do. She might never write him back.

He took out his wand a quickly removed the ink with a quick spell.

Dear Lily,

I know that James is a complete idiot when it comes to you. But he's really into you, and he's grown up a lot, if you bother to notice. At this rate, he might even become Head Boy. No, that would be impossible. And I would disown him if that happened.

But really, he's not as bad as you think he is. And he really cares about you and would be totally devastated if he found out you felt this way

I mean, it would probably crush him if he heard you saying he's added to your 'unhappiness' or 'self-hate' or whatever

And besides, you're literally one of the prettiest girls in school. And don't tell James I said that, or he'll make sure I never have children. And if you want proof, just send a letter to James asking him if he thinks you're pretty. He'll send back fifty pieces of parchment with his adoration.

I'm serious

He paused, wondering if he should erase that last line. Curse his name and its similar pronunciation to a useful word.

I've got to go, James is calling for me. We're going to visit Remus.

Talk to you soon

Sirius

He folded the paper, addressed it to Lily, and gave the letter to Themis, who promptly flew away. As he walked from the window, he sat on the bed, glaring at a poster of the Chudley Cannons, the players flying by winking at him.

It was then that he heard James calling his name again, and he got up, grabbed his trainers, and sauntered downstairs.

TO BE CONTINUED…

The letter writing only goes on for about a couple more chapters. Not too much longer before we get to the start of term and the Jily part of the story really starts! :D

Thanks for reading!

See you soon!