Rob Lupin sat at the kitchen table very early, sipping on a cup of tea, and scanning The Daily Prophet for any news of interest. Seeing nothing other than the mundane, he sighed and folded up the paper. He heard footsteps coming down the steps that he was able to easily identify as his mother's. She promptly came down to sit next her son, who was rather stoic in comparison to the bubbly personality of his mother.

His mom's hair was a shade of honey-brown today; much more serious than some of the previous colors she had sported. He remembered when he was little and her hair was always bright shades of violet and bubblegum pink.

"What's on your mind?" she asked, laying a hand on her son's arm and jerking him out of his rather nostalgic state.

"Just thinking…"

"Rob, sometimes you think too much. At your age, well, boy could I tell you some stories," she smiled reminiscently, morphing her features into those of a teenager's.

"Mum!" Rob exclaimed, slightly perturbed, "Don't do that, it's really creepy."

"Sorry, I couldn't resist," her smile faded when she looked down at her watch, then turned into a frown. "I really have to get to work; they've been telling I have to be on time…" she shrugged.

She kissed her son on the cheek and grabbed a leaf of papers from the counter, knocking over a small stack of books in the process.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Rob muttered, levitating the books back onto the counter before they spilled onto the floor.

"Thanks dear, see you later," his mom laughed before waving good-bye and dissapparating with a pop that made Rob flinch.

He drained the last of his tea, and swirled the dregs around in the bottom of his cup. Glancing into it, he chuckled to himself. There were merely a few misshapen and indistinct lumps left. He had never had much of an eye for divination, and had found that it was generally unreliable besides. And if you could see the future before it happened, didn't that already cause it to change, because now you would try to prevent it? He gave up; his thoughts were traveling in a circular pattern.

His thoughts eventually turned to her, as they so often did. He knew he didn't deserve her at all, but the one person he had confessed this to (his mother, by happenstance) had smacked him upside the head, and muttered something along the lines of, "too much like your father," and "self-sacrificing git." Regardless of his guilt, he couldn't help but be excited to see her – she had been on holiday with her parents for two weeks which had seemingly lasted an eternity.

He looked up at the clock, grumbling under his breath seeing that it was only 7:30. Really more like 7:20. His parents liked to set the clock a little fast so they wouldn't be late – although it really just lured his mom into a false sense of security and his dad into a false panic. Regardless, he wasn't supposed to meet her for at least another hour. He thought he might drive himself crazy in the meantime.

It was 8:25 when he apparated to Dumbledore Way, a small wizarding street North and East of London that had been named after an extraordinary wizard who had died shortly before Rob himself was born. He entered the tiny restaurant where they met for breakfast routinely. Taking a seat in their usual table (which gave a full view of the street – it really was quite an interesting little place) he looked for her; she was still 16, so didn't have the advantage of apparition to being on time.

He finally saw her coming down the street and waved to her, then realized she didn't have his sharpened senses that allowed him to see her so clearly at this distance. When she finally arrived, she made a beeline directly for their table, knowing he'd be there, and early at that.

She sat in the seat opposite him. Finding her irresistible, Rob leaned across the tiny table and, brushing a stray strand of dark hair out of her face, gently kissed her. Upon being released, she smiled at him impishly.

"Good morning to you too," she said, her green eyes sparkling.

"Good morning, Gwendolyn." He really just wanted to elicit a reaction for using her full name, both of them knew it.

"Rob…" she said seriously.

"Yes, Gwen?"

She laughed, and flipped her long dark hair over her shoulder. "Screw it; I can't even keep a straight face around you."

"You know, I've really missed you. I haven't had to resort to desperate measures to entertain myself."

"Yeah?" she pursed her lips, shaking her head. "Any chance of you telling me what these desperate measures were?"

"It's not important," he shook his head.

"Not important?" she raised her eyebrow. "Should I be worried?"

He sighed, "I actually came to work in Dad's store voluntarily. And I let Breanne talk me into offering myself up as a tour guide to foreign wizards and witches – there actually were a few cute Yanks," he laughed when she hit him gently. "But they didn't seem to be nearly as interested in me as that Belgian hag…"

"Ouch. Rare books and foreign hags." She smiled.

"Well I had to keep my mind off of you." Suddenly she leaned forward and caught his lips with hers. She entwined her fingers in his hair as they kissed, his hands lightly holding her face.

After a moment they broke apart, realizing they were in a public (though thankfully rather deserted) place. Gwen smiled at him with flushed cheeks, her sparkling eyes looking straight into his. "I've missed you too," she whispered.

---

11-year-old Lily Potter smiled up at her dad as they entered Ollivander's wand shop. She was so excited, she had already bought all of her school supplies with her dad, and now she was about to get her wand- which was, of course, the most important. One of the most interesting things about walking around Diagon Alley with her father was all the people he seemed to know – at 11, Lily couldn't even contemplate knowing that many people's names.

Her dad squeezed her shoulder. "Mr. Ollivander's a little…er…" he paused, "odd. But he's the best, don't worry."

Suddenly an odd looking fellow came out from between the rows of narrow shelves packed with little boxes. He surveyed her with piercing eyes.

"Hi this is my daughter, Lily," her dad said.

"Mmm, yes, named for her grandmother I see," the wand-maker nodded, "Let's see," he conjured up a magical tape measure that began taking measurements of her arms, legs, even toes.

He clucked his tongue approvingly. "Let's start you off with this one, 11 inches, Mahogany, flexible, unicorn hair," he said handing her a wand.

She waved it around, but to her dismay nothing happened. Mr. Ollivander handed another wand, and another, and another, but still nothing happened. She sighed in frustration after about ten tries, feeling this was hopeless.

"Difficult, just like your father," Mr. Ollivander muttered before disappearing into one of the narrow rows of shelving, apparently still mumbling to himself. He returned shortly, carrying a few more skinny boxes in his arms.

After several more tries, Lily had finally found a wand that suited her (it had sent a shower of purple stars) and was 10 ½ inches/swishy/rosewood with a phoenix feather.

She skipped along, feeling that this whole wand thing wasn't a wash after all. Her first year at Hogwarts was only a few days away, and her excitement was close to bubbling over. Her mom and dad had told her so many stories about their days at the Magical school. Living in Hogsmeade (for at least a good part of the year – her parents had several vacation homes) she had been to the school, but she still had no idea what it was going to be like to be a real, live student there.

Even stranger was the thought of having her own dad as a teacher. Her cousins seemed to think he was an excellent professor, but she supposed it was less weird being taught by your uncle than your father. She had asked Rob what her dad was like in school; he had said merely "Different." Being her inquisitive self, she found this a quite unsatisfactory answer.

"Dad," she said as they walked down the street, "Can I still call you Dad at Hogwarts?"

He chuckled, "Of course," he said, near to shaking with mirth. His eyes turned more serious as he continued, "Of course, I will be your Defense against the Dark Arts professor as well, so you'll have to take me seriously, and you know I can't play favorites in class."

"But I'm really your favorite right?" she asked.

She shrieked as he picked her up and lifted her up onto his shoulders. It was an odd feeling to be this much taller than everyone else around her, almost like being on top of the world. And she felt like she was, because she got the best of both worlds; she was going to start her first year at Hogwarts (like all 11-year-olds she was terribly excited) but since her dad was going to be one of her professors (and more likely than not, her Head of House) she never really was leaving any of her family behind, since her mom would be right down the road.

---

Ginny Potter smiled as her husband and daughter came to sit next to her at the booth outside the ice cream parlor. She was going to miss her little Lily when she left on the Hogwarts Express in three days. Things were going to be awfully quiet around the house without her exuberant daughter.

But on the other hand, this meant that she would have a lot more free time to spend with Harry…