A/N: Oh, oh no. I don't even want to look at the calendar to see how long it's been. Well, my very profuse, profuse apologies; unfortunately this first 'installment' is not that well worth the wait, but I assure you, they'll get better as they come along. Or at least more interesting. I hope.

I've pre-written these and made all five 'installments' approximately sevenish pages (that's a little over half of an average chapter) so that I'll be able to upload each one once every three days, where you'll get a new character's perspective. Also, since this is going to go pretty quickly, I'm going to put all of my review responses in the next regular chapter, when their school-year starts back up and we return to 3rd POV. Okie doke? If you have any questions or free time ; ) go on and check out my livejournal, where everything will be laid out nice and simply, or feel free tomessage me. Thanks!

First off, Lily's POV.

Lily

I criticized the freakishly green orbs that stared back at me, examining every teeny fleck and detail.

I used to like my eyes, a lot actually... Until one particular incident at a family picnic, that involved a raucous game of leap frog and a rather scummy pond, and earned me the nickname Toad Eyes.

"It's really quite simple," a voice gibed behind me. "You pick the bread up, slide it in the slot, and press that big black lever."

I closed my eyes. Maybe if I couldn't see her she'd go away.

After a few moments I squinted an eye open, only to see a distorted view of my sister in our archaic and scuffed up toaster. Sighing, I turned around. "Did you want something?"

"I need to make a call," she pointed to the telephone that hung on the adjacent wall. "And I'd like some privacy, if you don't mind."

I bit my tongue to refrain from replying with anything vulgar. "Well I'm about to eat," I said slowly. "Give me five minutes."

Petunia huffed and glared at me. "It's crucial," she informed me haughtily.

"Right," I scoffed. "Making smoochy noises and all that other gushy nonsense with your little fling is not considered crucial."

Petunia narrowed her eyes. "Miles is not a fling." When I only replied with a bored gaze she scowled and grabbed the phone off the hook, walking as far around the corner as the cord would allow her.

Once she was finally out of sight and her stupid babble began floating down the hall, I shuffled across the kitchen floor and towards the inviting refrigerator.

I shifted away a jar of questionable mayonnaise, salami that was definitely against health code, and finally settled on a piece of leftover pizza. Standing up, I peeled off the aluminum, side-stepping to toss the wrappings into the trash can. I reached to set the timer and nuke it for awhile, so I- oh!

That was not an olive.

Scrunching up my face in disgust, I held the unidentified parcel as far away as possible from me and cast it into the garbage. Honestly.

In an admitted defeat I took a breath and attempted to scour the cupboards instead. I pushed open the bi-fold door, but as I bent forward to grab the peanut butter something stopped me; something was different, out of place...

"Petunia..." I called slowly, looking between the bare door and where the telephone lie coiled. "Petunia!"

My irritated sister poked her head around the corner. "What do you want?"

I traced the side of the refrigerator with my finger. "What'd you do with the board?"

Petunia stiffened. "I cleaned up."

I gave a short laugh of disbelief. "Cleaned up? You don't just clean up that-"

"It was nonsense," she snapped, pale eyes flashing. "I couldn't stand the clutter."

I had to blink several times before her words could set in.

'The board' was a fairly large corkboard that hung on the side of our refrigerator for a decade at least, where we could post absolutely anything we wanted, mostly good report cards and pictures of old pets, recipes that everyone loved or portraits of the family. I felt anger swell inside me as I remembered the pictures of mum and dad posted along with the others.

"Nonsense?" I demanded.

Petunia's cool look remained. "Yes. This is my house now, you wouldn't understand about the trivial-"

"Trivial?" I repeated disbelievingly. "Petunia, those were the only pictures of mum and-"

"Don't mention those names in here," she said sharply.

I paused, watching as her face paled and her grip loosened on the telephone. "What?" I finally found my voice.

Petunia cleared her throat. "Those names," she repeated briskly. "They're no need to mention them, they're gone so there's no use really-"

I stared at my sister. I hadn't really thought about how she would take it, or if it came to it how she would deal. But she couldn't be this cold-hearted...

"Sure they are, Tun," I said softly, "but it doesn't mean we're just going to forget them."

Petunia opened her mouth, but then shut it, bringing up the receiver instead. "I'll call you back later, Miles," she said quickly, before clunking the phone back on the hook.

"Listen," she said, before I had a chance to speak again. "I just don't favor looking at all that every single day, so if I want to take it down I'm going to." She glared as if daring me to respond, before turning around on the slippery tile and making to stalk out the door.

Dare I did. "Do you remember her smile?"

Petunia froze, her back still facing me. "What kind of stupid question is that?"

"Or that expression dad wore at all of our recitals?"

"Of course I do," Petunia responded curtly.

I stared at the back of my sister's stubborn head, crossing my arms to shield a sudden chill. "Because I don't."

I watched as Petunia finally turned around; her stare locked with mine, both of us too stubborn to drop it. "You're being childish." Her sharp voice was faltering.

I continued on as if I hadn't heard her. "They're fading, and you know it. Our memories are slipping, I didn't think it'd be this quick but it is, Petunia, I'm forgetting, and you are too. Already I can't remember his laugh, or her habits, or-"

"Mum's voice," Petunia added quietly.

I nodded slowly. "Or mum's voice."

Petunia shifted rigidly from one foot to the other, lowering her gaze. "So what are we supposed to do?"

I took a breath, an idea forming in my head. "Well, what would mum do?"

Her furrowed brows of confusion only lasted several seconds before lifting to those of understanding. "I'll get the glue."

-------

I swiped a strand of hair out of my eyes and brought the gluestick down to form an even square on the pliant white paper. "Can you pass me the markers?"

Petunia nodded absently as she pressed a green umbrella cut-out across a picture of my family, all wearing matching galoshes and soaked to the bone, before tossing me the box of markers. "Finished with the glue?"

My mum wasn't an obsessive scrapbooker, but she was quite consistent. Each member of the family had their own book, the kids starting all the way from the moment they were born, and my parents' starting from the moment they met. 'My Beginning' was scripted lavishly across the cover, the tall letters in glittering gold and surrounded by a frame of an astute color, deep blue for my parents, red for Petunia, and green for myself.

One of the greatest things about it is that there's no said ending point to a scrapbook. There can always be more filler to purchase, more pictures to paste, until the maker decides themselves that the book is complete. Mum had paid closest attention to ours, adding every detail she could to this illustrated document of our lives, but in turn had paid least attention to her very own. And so, collecting all the photographed memories we could, Petunia and I finished it for her.

We worked in silence, but once in awhile one of us would find a particular picture that triggered a distinct memory, and merely showing it to one another was more than words could've ever expressed. We worked well together, probably the first time in nearly a decade, preserving each memory in a task that served as the resolution we had both badly needed.

Time wasn't an issue, as we continued working until the very last photograph was smoothed into its precise position. Petunia and I stared at it soundlessly, until eventually she gripped the edge with care and flipped it shut with a soft sense of finality. I watched as she traced the spine with her fingertip, but still feeling it needed something more, I turned the book over so that its title lay facing up.

I reached out for my paintbrush, dipping it quickly in a tube of gold paint before bringing it back to hover above the cover. After a few moments of watching my steady script, Petunia grabbed a brush as well and assisted me in writing the last couple of letters.

Our task complete, we returned the brushes to their rightful spots and looked down upon our finished work.

My Beginning
My Last

-

When I woke up my head was smashed up against a potted plant, and the supplies we had left out the previous night were neatly stacked on the shelves we had found them. Petunia was brewing coffee and the news was murmuring beneath the sound of frying eggs; I groggily made my way into the kitchen, the the scent of breakfast simply calling to me.

"One of your little friends left a message," Petunia informed me briskly, pausing only to salt and pepper the eggs. "Taylor something or another."

"That's Julie," I clarified distractedly, as I walked across the kitchen. I leaned over to inspect the eggs. "Do we have any syrup?"

Petunia smacked my hand away. "Don't touch that," she said, shielding the eggs protectively with a thin hand. "I'm taking them to Miles." She drew a spatula from the drawer and began to scrape the pan. "The friend that called... she's the one you're staying with, isn't it? Well go on and call her, I'm not going to wait all day to take you."

I raised a brow. Part of me had realized last night that even though she had shown some very valid signs of compassion, by morning she'd be her old crabby self. It was just her way, I guess.

"Going," I replied to Petunia's impatient look. I struggled to remember Julie's number, dialing several variations before finally reaching the right one; when I actually got a hold her she was quick and out of breath, but assured me that she was ready for me today and to get there anytime after noon. I informed Petunia and set off upstairs to finish packing my bags.

My room looked unnaturally bare, what with everything crammed into a trunk and two carry on bags, pictures and dresser ornaments included. I didn't like the sight of it, so I hurried to collect a few last minute things before hastening down the stairs.

"Ready Petunia!" I shouted on my way out to the front porch.

The news clicked off and she appeared under the doorframe, brushing her hands on a towel and slipping off a starch white apron. "Let's go then," she said, striding out in front of me and through the doorway. "Hurry along now, I'm supposed to meet Miles by two."

The ride was not very enjoyable, to say the least. Petunia kept silent the entire trip, occasionally turning the radio on to horrible crooning singers and tapping her fingers to the beat, but other than that showing absolutely no traits ordinary in a human. Like... talking.

It didn't bother me too much; the drive to Julie's wasn't that long and I had a History of Magic assignment to keep me busy. When the bustling streets turned into quiet, wider roads and the sight of nature became more frequent, I put my homework away and began to help search for her upcoming street. Finally my sister pulled up to a white colonial with pale blue trimmings, a sight that ever-so-slightly triggered a memory. A few summers ago we had picked Julie up to go to the Three Cross Station, because neither of her parents could get off work.

Petunia barely came to a full stop before I was out the door and dragging my luggage down the drive, and I hoped beyond hope that this was the right house as I heard my only means of transportation screech down the road behind me.

The address matched so I felt reassured that this was the correct place, but when I knocked on the side-door she had told me to go to and no one answered, the same unsettled feeling rose up again. I dropped my trunk on the grass and walked up the front porch, knocking again, this time harder and for a longer amount of time. The house still stood silent, withno inclination of movement at all. I paced over to the windows, pulling back the daisy speckled curtain warily. My heart raced as I found no sign of anyone inside, and began to doubt myself as I stepped back to examine the semi-familiar home.

Thinking back, I don't really remember these potted plants, or that porch swing, and the door paneling doesn't strike a thought at all, in fact I could be in a whole other country for all I know, what with Petunia's crazy driving and who knows her motives-

"Lily!"

I whipped around, my pale face slowly returning back to its appropriate color as I took in the wonderfully familiar sight of my friend. Julie was walking down the driveway, carrying a package in one hand and tugging her sister along with the other.

"I'm terribly sorry," she apologized, shifting the package to her other hand as she placed an arm around her young sibling's shoulder. "I didn't think it'd take so long to pick up 'Bec and then the market was colossally busy... You haven't been waiting long, have you?"

I shook my head. "That's all right, it was only a couple of minutes." Peering down at her timid looking sister, I smiled and asked, "So this is Rebecca?"

"Uh-huh," Julie returned my smile and gently pushed her sister forward. She suddenly frowned and raised her hand to look at her watch, before digging through her pocket and retrieving a key. "Oh, sorry, I didn't realize how late it was... I've got to go get this started if we want to eat tonight. Here Bec, why don't you two introduce yourselves while I go put this in the oven?"

With quick smile and encouraging pat on her sister's back, she turned the key and hastily stepped through the door. The clanging of pans and running water sounded from the back of the house, and turning away from it, I crouched down to her sister's level. "Hi," I said, sticking my hand out. "It's wonderful to finally meet you, Rebecca."

Rebecca stared back at me with wide eyes and mouth hanging slightly open. "Er," I began again, once several minutes had passed and she had still yet to respond. "I-uh, I like your giraffe," I complimented the worn out stuffed animal she clung loosely. I reached out to touch its blue collar, "Oh... and I'll bet this is a wonderful combination of cotton and wicker-" Rebecca yelped and stumbled backwards, hiding the animal behind her. I watched in horror as her lower lip began to tremble, and soft green eyes began to water.

"Oh no, no don't cry, I, I uh," I stuttered hopelessly, hopping on either foot as I tried to decide what to do. "Sorry, please, here just..." I tentatively reached out a hand to awkwardly pat her head. She shook her head and backed up... unfortunately right into a hand-painted ceramic pot. It quickly went tumbling to the ground, along with half a pound of dirt and Julie's little sister.

I froze, looking over the scene in horror. I'd terrified a little girl, attacked her toy, and sent her falling into a shower of plaster and dirt in all of two minutes. I should not be trusted around anything small and breathing.

Julie's head craned around the doorframe. "Is everything all-" Her eyes widened as they fell upon the pot and her dirt covered sister. "Oh! I'm sorry," she apologized, kneeling down and scooping up her sister. "I shouldn't have left you two all by yourselves, I just needed to get dinner started and-"

"That's okay," I replied tightly. "Just as long as I didn't damage her."

Julie laughed. "She's fine," she said, and as if to prove her point, set her sister back down on the porch. Rebecca immediately recuperated and zoomed back into the house.

"Oh," I said softly, leaning beside Julie.

"Well come on in," she said warmly, grabbing an end of my trunk and stepping inside the door. "I made some strawberry scones earlier, let me just get Bec her allergy pill- she'll never sleep if she has it after four- and then I'll get us a plate of some."

"Sounds great," I smiled in return. Once we stepped into her home, I peered around the empty room, a thought striking in my mind. "Where are your parents?"

"Ah, let's see," she said, flicking her eyes around the room in thought. "Today's Thursday, so dad should be home by six."

I waited for her to answer about her mum, but several seconds later Julie still hadn't responded, and was already resuming her walk to the kitchen. "Julie?" I called from the living room. She stopped and turned around to glance at me; something in her gaze made me reconsider my question. "Um... Need any help with the scones?"

A/N: The scrapbook has some significance, don't worry. Thanks for reading, and be sure to keep an eye out for Remus's POV next 'installment' : )