Summary: It was supposed to be a normal summer, one just like any other Lily Evans had experienced in the past six years of her life. Petunia would call her a "freak," and their parents would encourage them to at least be civil to one another. Little did she know how one chance meeting could change so much…

Disclaimer: I own nothing…nothing at all, sadly…

Morning Rituals…

"Lily?" called a voice.

'Sibyl? Oh, she was so shy, and so gentle. There is something of a child about her. Her eyes opened wide in exquisite wonder when I told her what I thought of her performance, and she seemed quite unconscious of her power. I think we were both rather—'

"Lily," the voice called again, a bit louder than before.

'He would insist on calling me "My Lord," so I had to assure Sibyl that I was nothing of the kind. She said, quite simply to me, "You look more like a prince. I must call you—"'

"LILY!" the voice shouted once more, this time sounding quite irritated.

The red-headed girl groaned audibly. She was getting to the good part too. It was too bad the Dorian Gray had to listen to the garbage Lord Henry spewed from his mouth, Lily thought sadly. If he had just stayed the pure lad he was, Dorian could have been married, he would not have sold his soul to the devil, Sybil would not have committed suicide, Dorian—

"Lily Evans, your mother has called you to come down three times already," came another voice. This was the voice of Lily's father, who was, as always, doing his wife's bidding. This time, he was given the task of removing Lily Evans from her nice little fortress upstairs, otherwise known as Lily's bedroom.

"Coming!" Lily shouted back, her eyes quickly scanning over the remainder of the page. Once finished, she snapped the book shut, leapt off her bed, and proceeded to run down the stairs, not caring about the racket she was making.

She skipped the bottom three steps, simply jumping onto the ground and landing lightly on the carpet, looking very much like a cat. She used to slide down the banisters, but her mother had caught her, and a poor, twelve-year-old Lily Evans was reprimanded for trying to have fun.

Lily entered the kitchen. Her mother was busy cooking breakfast, while her father was sitting at the table with the morning's paper held up in front of him, a cup of tea next to his right hand.

"'Morning Mum, Dad," Lily greeted, inclining her head in acknowledgement.

"'Morning Lily," her dad replied, setting down the ever interesting comic section and turning to his daughter.

Lily looked at him warily. Whenever Robert Evans stopped reading the comics section to talk to you, you knew you were one, in trouble, or two, going to end up extremely embarrassed. She hoped and prayed it was the latter. Scoldings from her father were not something she wanted to experience this early in the morning. They were not dreadfully unpleasant; however, they did make her feel dreadfully guilty.

"Your mother forgot to ask—" Lily's dad started saying, but was cut off by a pointed look directed to him from his wife. He cleared his throat and began again, "Your mother and I were wondering who that lovely young man was—you know, the one we saw you with the other day."

Lily gave him a blank look. She was, quite obviously, very confused. What 'young man'? I don't remember being with any 'young man,' and a 'lovely' one at that. Who are they talking about? And what do they mean by 'seeing me' with this person? I don't remember being with anybody at all. I—

Once again, her thoughts were cut off by her father's voice. Apparently, he had seen her blank look. "Don't you remember?" he asked, a bit cautiously. "We saw you out the window of the restaurant with that nice young man, and you were smiling and talking to him…" he trailed off, glancing at his daughter.

Lily still looked just as confused. "I…I don't recall ever 'being with' any 'nice young man'…" she replied, not sure of what she was saying.

Lily's mother cut in, sounding rather exasperated. "Oh, honey, he was the good-looking one," she prompted, eying her daughter.

"Good looking one?" Lily asked, her expression as blank as ever.

"Yes, the one with the messy black hair and the glasses…"

Realization dawned on Lily's face. They were talking about James Potter! Then she remembered what her father had called him. "Lovely young man," was it? She promptly burst out into a fit of laughter.

Robert and Amelia shared a look and, for the umpteenth time, gave their daughter a cautious glance as the poor girl doubled over, clutching her stomach and the kitchen counter. She was beginning to look a bit unbalanced. Really, what had gotten into her?

Lily "resurfaced," and pretended to wipe tears of laughter from her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said, pausing as a few more bouts of laughter escaped her mouth. "You just called James Potter a 'lovely young man' and a 'good-looking' boy...it's just…too…funny…" The poor, "unbalanced" collapsed again, snickering loudly. It was quite clear that Lily Evans was a bit…well…"slap happy" in the mornings, or, at least, when she was sleep deprived, which she was now.

"How is that funny?" Lily's mother asked, giving her daughter yet another confused look. Robert Evans had already abandoned the ordeal, and turned back to read his comics with a hint of a knowing smile gracing his lips.

"I would hardly call James Potter 'lovely,' or 'good looking,'" Lily replied, finally regaining her composure. She walked towards the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of milk. She poured herself a glass.

"Why is that dear?" Amelia asked her daughter. "You two seemed quite friendly with each other; he seemed to like you a good deal," at that, Lily snorted (her mother failed to notice this). "I actually thought you two were dating."

A spray of milk suddenly came from nowhere. Well, not exactly from 'nowhere.' Lily, who, at the time, was in the processes of downing a glass of milk, immediately spluttered indignantly, causing the milk (which she had not yet swallowed) to spray all over the kitchen counter.

"Excuse me?" was all Lily could say, still recovering from the "shock" she just experienced. She hastily wiped her upper lip with the back of her hand, and gawked at her mother in disbelief.

Amelia looked at her daughter oddly. Oh, why couldn't the girl be calm and collected like Petunia? she thought wearily. Amelia Evans seemed to be doing a lot of that lately, looking at her youngest daughter as one would a high-functioning sociopath. What could possibly be so bad about his Potter boy?

She voiced the latter thought out loud. This time, she was not shocked to see her daughter looking positively scandalized.

"What could possibly be so bad about James Potter?" Lily repeated, aghast. "He's—he's…" She looked around desperately for a word that was not too profane to say in front of her own parents. She began waving her arms around dramatically as well, but to no avail.

"There's no way James can be that bad," reassured her mother, taking Lily's loss of words to mean that the latter did not dislike James Potter.

"Oh trust me," Lily muttered darkly under her breath. "He can be." Thankfully, neither parent had heard her.

Her mother smiled at her absently, but consented to not question the girl any further.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lily could see her father struggling not to laugh. Turning away from the toaster, she glared at him. He only smiled wider. She frowned, and a few minutes later, went to sit beside him, munching on a piece of buttered bread.

Just as she had made herself comfortable, Lily heard the clickity-clack of stiletto heels that could only belong to one person—Petunia Evans.

...

Lily looked up and smiled sweetly at her sister; she was now nibbling on her second piece of toast, while she jabbed her fork at a piece of bacon.

Petunia wrinkled her nose in distaste. Lily knew her sister did not approve of her dietary habits. But then again, not everybody could be skin-and-bones like Petunia. It was a "rare gift," as Lily liked to put it.

Petunia sauntered over to the pantry door to pull out a box of cereal, and placed it next to her pink, plastic bowl. She prepared her meal quickly, dumping both milk and cereal into one bowl, and pulling out a cup of yogurt. She then walked snootily to the kitchen counter, and situated herself on one of the stools.

"Good morning to you too, Petunia," grinned Lily, as her sister completed her daily morning ritual. The former was already finishing off the last of her bacon, and was beginning the actions of wiping her mouth with a napkin.

Petunia merely made a "humph!" sound and turned away, her nose in the air.

"You should at least say 'hello,' to your sister, Petunia," chastised their father, not even glancing up from his now crossword, already used to this routine.

"Good morning, Lily," Petunia said stiffly. She turned to her mother.

"Mum," she asked, her voice laced with so much false sweetness that Lily rolled her eyes, and even their father had to shake his head slightly.

"Yes honey?" asked Amelia.

"Could I go to the mall today? With my friends, that is. Yvonne's coming along too," Petunia explained, looking as "sweet" and as "innocent" as a nineteen-year-old girl could possibly manage.

Amelia Evans smiled kindly at her daughter. "Of course!" she agreed. She paused for a moment, deep in thought. "You can take Lily along!"

This time, both Lily and Petunia spluttered.

"No! You cannot let that freak come—"

"Oh, don't worry your pretty little head over it, Tuney; you'd have to kill me before I'd go—"

"Enough, girls," ordered their father, always the peacemaker. The two girls shot each other identical, venomous glares and crossed their arms stubbornly.

"Now, now, girls, I think it would be a nice bonding experience," explained their mother. "Plus, Lily spends too much of her time at home. You," at this, she turned to her youngest daughter, pointing a threatening finger, "should go out more often. It's summer time, have fun."

Both Lily and Petunia gave her skeptical looks.

Their mother frowned stubbornly. "It's a great idea—isn't it Rob?"

Upon seeing the look on his wife's face, the still dutiful husband nodded his head hastily.

Amelia Evans smiled. "That's settled then. You two are to go to the mall together. No arguments," she added, seeing the looks on her daughters' faces.

Lily looked as though she was about to protest, but finally relented.

"Fine," sighed Lily, running a hand through her hair. "I'll go and get ready for eight hours of torture. Just let me go brush my teeth and get my purse." She pushed back her chair and dragged herself up the stairs.

Petunia scowled, placed her pink bowl in the sink, and she too bounded up the staircase, preparing herself for a day that was supposed to have been fun.

Oh Merlin, please help me, prayed Lily, looking at the door that had just closed behind her sister.

Author's Note: Hehe…I was thinking about completely discontinuing this story, but suddenly, I found my err... "muse," and decided to keep on writing. It's not that great, but hey—we don't write fanfiction for money. If we did, we'd get into a heck of a lot of legal trouble. So, here is my update, after about what—two months? I apologize if you wished I had updated sooner…

I already know what the next chapter will be like, but knowing and doing are, of course, two very different things.

I hope that you enjoyed it. It was…entertaining…writing it…

Please, please, please read and review. I'd really appreciate it. I believe that the more reviews I get, the faster I'll update…I hope that's a good incentive….But I can completely understand if you don't like this fanfic….

Thank you for reading this far!

-Delia