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I stepped through an oaken door and in to the comfortable bedroom of James Potter. It was a bit plain, the few decorations having to do with Quidditch or Gryffindor, preferably both it seemed, but all in all it was exactly as a teenage boys room should be. Careless and undefined with an air of confidence, like he knew you'd love it, however messy it might be.

    "Err. You can sit down over there." James pointed at a sunken maroon chair as if waiting for my approval.

    "That will be fine." I said, breezily making my way over.

    "Right then. So, how about some chess or is there something else you'd like to do?"

    I smiled at his uneasiness. Oh well, I'd show him. "Why don't we just talk. I don't know terribly much about you."

    "Ok, umm, what about?" His distain showing clearly.

    "Well, what's your favourite colour. I find it's awfully useful to know little tidbits like that."

    "That's easy, crimson. You?"


    "White? That's not even a colour!"

    "Exactly, it's indefinite, yet it knows exactly what it wants to be." He snorted, an amused look passing over his dark features.

    "What's your favourite animal?"

    "A dove. They're the epitome of innocence. And yours?"

    "A Gryffin, obviously."

    "Lot's of house pride we have. I suppose that's why your such a good Quidditch player, very competitive." He seemed taken a back at the compliment I payed him.

    "So you know who I am then?"

    "Just a bit." I admitted, "But then we have all of our class together, and I heard you made Captain!"

    "I did." he said, as if daring me to challenge otherwise.

    "Jude said that was a big step, for going professional that is."

    "I kn-...wait! Jude, who?" My tinkling laugh filled the room. I mean, how many famous Jude's played Quidditch!

    "Jude Allendorf, of course. He's the seeker for England."

    "And you know him?"

    "Yes! As a matter of fact he was over for dinner just last week. He's one of Win's friends."

    "C-Could you get me his autograph?!?" Ah! So, connections made him stutter.

    "If you wanted it, sure. I could get you a ticket to one of his games sometime, though, if you'd rather. The top box does have a rather spectacular view."

    "Top box? Really? And you're not joking?" James asked, skeptically

    "Why would I? We should go, there's another match in a few weeks actually. Siri, Steph-Steph and I are going, so if you wanted to invite a couple people that would be great. Just owl me by next Saturday if you're interested."

    "How are you supposed to get tickets for all of us. I'm not even sure if the Jude Allendorf could get us six."

    "You're right, he probably couldn't, but Uncle Courtenay could. He got over a hundred for my birthday at the World Cup."

    "Well, if you're sure...."

    "I am." I smiled, cutting him off, just as Twinkie rasped into the room.

    "Mistress Lily, Your father's here."


    I walked down the stairs and through the front door once again, this time in to the Bugatti Veyron father had bought me as a summer present. My chauffeur Maximilian opened the tinted doors, leaving me surrounded by sleek leather. The drive home went slowly, just now reaching the winding stone path up to our sprawling estate. It was a terribly old one, level with Black's in age, but unrivaled in magnificence, or rather originality.

    You see the walls of Manoir de Fulke are made of a shimmering black opal with a diamond finish, while the roof is simple grey stone. We have the largest garden in England, made entirely of roses, blood red, with over 400 acres of land which back up to the Cerulean Lake. To be quite honest, it's excessive, but home all the same.

    "Mistress Lily, we're here." Max said and led me inside. I hurried up the sweeping staircase and to the top left tower where I resided. The reason for all of this rush was simple, it was almost time for dinner and I needed to change. So off went the racey black number, and on came the silken pale pink gown, the train brushing over the floor, while Antoinette brushed out my cascading hair.

    It didn't take her terribly long before it was secured upon my head in an elegant bun, resemblant of a ballerina, and secured with a crown of pink roses the same pastel shade as my dress. Had I been a princess from long ago I certainly would have looked the part well, as it was, however, I simply appeared as overdressed as the rest of our staunchly pure-blooded family.

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