Evans. Evans, bloody Evans. I had to deal with her betraying ass last year, thinking she actually gave a damn and now I have to help her represent the students of Hogwarts.

Bring on the fireworks.

Was I looking forward to my final year? Was the excitement building up that I know had the responsibility of looking after everyone my age and younger? Was the idea giving me slight panic attacks and cold sweats?

Yup.

Was I excited about working with dear old Lily Evans for a whole year?

Nup.

Sirius, dear friend that he is, went through the motions of terrorizing me, what with my (so he called it) sudden and unexpected rise to power. He lectured me, pacing back and forth at the foot of my bed, face pompous, explaining how this was my 'breakthrough' into the 'political scene'.

My parents were thrilled. Dad, like I said before, was an Auror. Mum; a healer. She could fix anything, from a paper cut to a punctured spleen. She had this way with people, this undeniable glow. I don't know how else to describe it. It didn't matter what mood you were in, when she walked in the room and smiled the sky split open and angels flew out. Well, that's what Dad said anyway, personally I think it's soppy. I told my dear father as such and he just laughed and nodded, telling me that I'll say the same about whatever amazing woman I end up being with.

Vomit inducing, I know.

So Dad gave me the manly clap on the back and Mum smiled brightly at me and yeah, Dad did have a point with the whole brightening the room thing. She was beautiful, my Mum. And this isn't the ranting of a Mummy's boy. I love her. She's one of those mother's who is always there but never actually smothers. She let me make my mistakes. If she hadn't, I wouldn't have learnt.

My parents, Henry Potter and Julie Newand, are the classic love story. Without the poison and the dagger in the end. They met through their parents, not hard considering they're both from old Wizarding families, and they hit it off. They were only ten. They became great friends and remained so during their Hogwarts years. And, you know the story. Friends turn to couple turn to lovers turn to husband and wife. I hate to sound all dreamy and yuk but there are times when I've seen Mum touch Dad's hand and they both just seem to… well, light up. The tiniest smile, the old sparkle in Dad's eyes, the glow in Mum's cheeks… And I grin every time I see it. What, I can't help it!

But I think that was one of the main reasons Sirius loved to stay at mine so much. He had his own room in our wedding cake of a house and was treated just like a son. I adopted him as my brother. We argued, we play fought, we mucked around and we exasperated our parents. But Sirius is my brother. Always will be. I remember being fifteen and Mum tripping over a stack of Exploding Snap cards, the stack (typically) exploding and her launching into a torrent of abuse which went something along the lines of '… you two boys learn, I'll never know, why can't you put your things away instead of leaving them lying around to explode under people…'

And then the bombshell.

'JUST YOU TWO WAIT UNTIL YOUR FATHER GETS HOME!'

I swear I have never seen Sirius or my mother look so stunned. They both stared at each other for a good thirty second before Mum swept over (yes, swept) and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, planting a big fat disgusting kiss on his forehead which promptly turned magenta.

That was the day he became my brother.

So my brother tortured me about the concept of working all year with Evans. He didn't stop, not even when the two of us were standing, trunks packed and quietly sitting beside us, gazing at the bright red Hogwarts Express as the smoke billowed from the flume. I can't help it. Every time I see that train it sets off a slight explosion in the region of my chest. Just the excitement of another year at school, surrounding myself with friends and, I must admit, I miss the full moons.

Sirius, standing beside me and pretending her was oblivious of the admiring looks from the girls around him, looked at me and wiggled his eyebrows.

'So are you and Evans going to… er… study together this year?'

It didn't deserve a response. So I didn't give one. He tried again. 'I hear you have to meet up in the prefects' carriage and give a pep talk.'

I rolled my eyes. Secretly, I'd been hoping he'd have dropped the whole 'Potter and Evans' crap but hey, you have to be wrong sometimes. His grin would have rivaled that of the Cheshire Cat in Alice in Wonderland. Yeah, I'd seen it. My parents insisted I get some culture into me, so they bombarded me with Muggle stuff when I was younger. Consequently, I blitzed Muggle Studies.

Remus and Peter barreled into us and we dragged our stuff onto the train. Leaving them to find a compartment, Remus and I fished out our badges, pinned it to our shirts and headed towards the front of the train. Snape slithered passed us and, quite literally, hissed. Little first and second years scooted around us. I shook my head. It no longer seemed possible that I could have been that small once not so very longer ago.

I slipped into the compartment. A few prefects were already there, tugging nervously on their robes. I smiled at them as Remus sat down opposite me and I started with the painful formalities. I recognized a couple of them. Quidditch players.

The door slid open again with an explosion of noise. The rest of the prefects, all laughing, almost fell inside, followed closely by a smiling Evans. I stared at her and she looked up at me, swallowed, then turned to face the others.

'Right, let's get started.'