This around the average length of my chapters, though some may vary on their respective ends of the spectrum. This may very well become a story series, though I'm not sure. I should probably get through this one first, shouldn't I?

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any part of the original Harry Potter story or characters. I only own this basic plot and my own OC.

Feedback is always welcome, except the destructive kind. Try to build, not destroy.

Harry Potter: The Next Generation by Lisassa

"Alex! Alex! Get up, get up!" I woke to a newly five-year old jumping on my bed. Groaning, I shifted onto my back just in time for her Superman leap onto my stomach.

"Oof! Uncle!"

The little curly-haired blonde smiled, showing off her missing bottom front tooth grandly. I couldn't help but smile at her contagious innocence as a mischievous glint sparkled in her ocean blue eyes.

"Guess what day it is!" she exclaimed, bouncing on my stomach.

"Hmm. It couldn't be Monday, could it?" I joked, knowing all too well the special occasion. It was impossible to forget or go unawares with the little one counting down the days since the start of the month.

"No, silly. It's my birfday!" she exclaimed jovially. I my ignorance was rewarded with another Superman leap to the gut.

"Really?" I giggled, almost rendered breathless with the sudden pressure on my diaphragm. "How old are you?"

"Five!" She held up the respective amount of stubby little fingers.

I chuckled. "Are you sure? You look older than five to me."

"Noo!" She buried her face into my blanked only moments before I scooped her up. Cradling her carefully, I attacked her middle with ruthless tickling, listening delightfully as she shrieked her laughter. It was a brilliant way to start my day, along with hers, as well, I presumed. Knowing of my utter hatred for mornings, the sweet little girl tended to avoid me and my room until I've at least had my breakfast.

Mike, however; was a different story.

The door was opened to show a boy about my age with red hair and lightning green eyes. He wore his usual white t-shirt and jeans, hair spiked in every possible direction. I briefly wondered if he ever actually combed his hair out, or if he just enjoyed the disheveled look. The little girl squirmed out of my grip and scrambled off the bed, leaping into his arms.

"Mikey!" she squealed in sheer delight. There was quite possibly nobody in the world that she loved more than him. He had adopted her as a little sister the moment she appeared on the orphanage doorstep, and she reciprocated almost immediately.

Mike grunted as she thrusted herself on him. "How's the birthday girl?" he asked, adjusting her in his arms. Even though she was very young, she could get quite heavy. Of course, since he was the one whom's arms she occupied on almost an hourly basis, he had grown used to the burden.

"Alex forgot my birfday!" she whined, crossing her arms and puffing out her lower lip in a mock pout. I had to fight to stifle my laughter at the sight. There was no one she worked that look on more than Mike, likewise no one being more immune to it than him.

"Did she now?" He raised a questioning eyebrow at me yet his eyes threw me a knowing look. It always amazed me how his face and eyes could tell two entirely different stories. It was like he was composed of two books; one the story he wanted everyone else to read, the other only I was privy to knowing.

I shrugged, playing along with the scene. "What can I say? I'm just terrible at remembering things, right Lilly?"

"Sissy!" she nearly screamed. She hated it when people messed up her name, and we all knew it. It was a cruel game that only Mike and I were ever permitted to play, albeit sparingly.

Mike laughed. "Hey, Sissy, I gotta talk to Alex about older kid stuff. Why don't you go put on that dress Nancy got you yesterday?" Sissy nodded and he put her down. She made sure I promised to do her hair up like I said I would days ago before the party and left, making sure to shut the door behind her.

"You know Sarah would kill us if she saw that door closed."

Mike shrugged, tossing himself onto the space beside me. "Oh well. It's not like we'd do anything." I chuckled. Being as inseparable as we were, everyone thought we would end up together. So far that hasn't happened, but that never stopped people from talking, especially Nancy. Ugh, that nasty seaweed-haired girl could really get under my skin with her stories.

"So how are you?" He asked casually yet cautiously, playing with a bit of blanket to seem nonchalant. Not again!

I rolled my eyes and got off the bed. Why did he have to start this so early in the morning? If it wasn't for the fact that he was my best friend I would have smacked him for bothering me just for that. Can't a girl have a moping period? Walking into my closet I picked out a comfortable grey low-cut t-shirt that matched my eyes and some tight skinny jeans. I didn't have to worry about Mike peeking. He knew all too well what would happen if I caught him doing so. Good thing castration never really appealed to him.

I walked out, noticing he was now leaning on the wall between the closet and makeup table, arms crossed, facing the latter. "You can't keep running from it forever." he warned as I maneuvered around him and sat on the comfy swivel chair facing the mirrored vanity table.

"I can try." he shook his head as I started brushing out my elbow-length hair. He sight, taking over in the tedious (to me) task. It was strange how I preferred he do it instead of myself. It was somewhat soothing, allowing me to focus instead on my face or thoughts.

"You need to talk about what happened. Keeping it locked up inside won't help you at all." he reasoned.

"And who said I wanted or needed any help?" I snapped, a little too sharply. I didn't mean to, but his constant pestering and everyone's pity-filled looks were getting to me. I didn't need pity, and I didn't want to talk about it. I just wanted to bury the whole thing deep in my subconscious. Unlucky for me, Mike would never let me do that.

He stopped with my hair momentarily, throwing me a deadly glare. I returned one to him through the mirror. It was a violent battle of wills that never left our locked gaze. If anyone else was watching or caught in the middle they'd probably be terrified of an ensuing bloodbath. I wouldn't blame them if they just upped and ran. "That sentence in itself tells me you do." He growled.

I looked down, surrendering the fight. He continued brushing after a moment's pause. I don't think he actually expected me to relent; I usually never did. Although, he had a point. Never once had I hesitated to ask for his help with anything, even stuff most people would deem too embarrassing to involve the opposite sex. This being said, one of the most obvious tells to me being severely bothered by something was when I refused his assistance.

"I just don't want to talk about it." I muttered. Looking at him through the mirror, once more, we again locked eyes. Mike saw for the first time since he found me broken and hysterical that day the pain I held inside. "To do so means I have to relive it again."

Mike put down the brush and spun me around to face him. He knelt so that we were level with each other. Cupping my face in his hands, he spoke. "I care about you too much to watch you hurt like this all the time. I understand it hurts, and I know the memories are still fresh, but I am always here. Whatever happened, you can tell me. I can't help you if I don't know what your ailment is."

A single tear fled my eye and he wiped it away with his thumb. In that moment I did the only thing I could do. Wrapping my arms around his neck I hugged hm and cried. He held me tight as I bawled like a baby. Why did he always have to break through my walls like they were made of tissue paper?

After my tears were expelled and my sniffling subsided, we parted. He wiped away my tears, sadness etched into his features. He hated seeing me this way almost as much as I hated feeling it. A knock on the door told us breakfast was ready. Mike leaned in and kissed my forehead.

"Meet me at the picture tonight if you're ready to talk." This was more of an expectation then an offer. He knew what I needed most, and he had no problem delivering it. He also knew my pride, so he was always crafty in the ways he would draw me in to receive what it was I needed. By adding the simple word "if" to his seemingly un-thought out sentence, he had issued a challenge to my subconscious. By complying I accepted the help I was steadily denying myself. But by refusing I risked hurting his feelings by sending the message that I didn't trust him with my terrors. It was a lose-lose situation that either way ended up in tears. The only question would be who's they would belong to.

I nodded and he left, leaving me to my thoughts. Turning to the mirror I saw a tear-stained ten-year old who's seen far too much in her lifetime. She looked scared and defeated, almost like she carried a secret that tore a hole through her soul.

Taking a deep breath I cleaned off my face and left, preparing myself for the bountiful happiness of a five-year old. If only she knew she was most possibly one of the only people left in the world that could make me smile through the endless turmoil.