A/N: Hi! Welcome to my first story. I started writing this one a looooooong time ago. After something like a seven year hiatus, I'm hoping to bring it back to life! :) Got some new chapters in the works and am currently going through and fixing the first five chapters. Yes - there are mistakes.

Disclaimer: The wonderful J.K. Rowling has provided us with these heartwarming characters and magical world to make our own stories with. I will forever be thankful for her bringing Harry Potter into my life. It all belongs to her. I take no credit, besides the occasional OC that appears in the following story. Enjoy!

Chapter One:

The world is out to get me.

It basically wants me to fail at life, while everyone else laughs. At this current time I'm sulking about how much this bloody planet hates me.

I'm not kidding.

Fifth year only just ended, and I'm so bored I can't move. Literally.

I probably look like a dying cow lying on the side of a gravel road.

The Slytherins would probably say that I'm starting to blend in with the filth that I am. They love to see me at my worst, so they try to provoke me.

It works.

I have a horrible temper. My kindergarten teacher once described my temper as a menacing, deathly volcano (which I think she got from my red hair) that is out to ruin her. She also added some other colorful words, which my innocent little five-year old eyes would have widened at had I not already heard them from my own bloody hag of a mother.

Oh well, I guess I don't blame my teacher for getting mad at me, but I didn't expect to have to change schools because of it. Yeah, so I beat the crap out of a boy in third grade because he accidentally bumped into me and fell on top of me. I didn't know it was an accident! It looked like he was attacking me. My overprotective dad taught me where to hit a boy when he tried anything. So I ended up putting him in the hospital wing for a month. Oops.

Well, I'm getting way off the subject. You're probably wondering why I'm sulking. Well, I am currently lying at the bottom of a staircase in my house's front parlor. I found out that falling down the steps is faster than walking. I should obviously get a Nobel Prize for that observation. Like I said, if the Slytherins were here, they'd probably say I look like a dying cow.

"Eww, you're such a freak."

Never mind. Who needs Slytherins when I have my lovely sister? Oh the plus side, I'd rather be a freak than a cow.

"Thanks."

I know, I have such a way with words. Give me a break; it's bloody six fifteen in the morning. I don't talk right, or walk right obviously, when the sun hasn't even fully risen yet. It took me forever to process the fact that I was lying down instead of moving to the kitchen. Oh, wait, the pain is coming now. Ow.

"I'm surprised, freak. You've managed to reach a new level of ugliness since last summer. I don't think I've seen anything more horrid in my life."

What about your face? Yea, I can't say that out loud. Darling mother will send me off to boot camp for acting so "unladylike." Of course, Petunia has perfect etiquette. The world freak isn't rude at all. Note the sarcasm.

I think I'll just ignore her. Right. Ok, Lily, don't say anything. Keep your mouth shut. Don't let her meaningless insult get to you, or your self-esteem. Yea, Lily! You got, just ignore her till she leaves. Pay her no mind. Look away. Look away.

"At least my face doesn't resemble a horse that got stung my a dozen bees and kicked in the mouth. Not to mention the fact that my shoulders aren't like two monstrous pyramids shooting out of my body at odd angles."

Shoot. Run away. Owww, never mind, I can't even sit up without wishing for a quick death. Oh, she has really evil eyes. Now, they're not nearly as evil as Bellatrix Black, but definitely an accomplishment. It's true though, she has these horrible shoulders. I was also correct about her face resembling a horse. She looks a lot like great grandma Lydia. Or at least the photographs I've seen of her. Not pretty. We should probably burn those photos...

"You just don't know when to shut up, do you freak?" No, I don't. "Just wait till mom finds out that you've been calling me names."

Okay, I didn't call her any names. Yes, I described her not-so-compromising features, but no name-calling in there.

Well, I'm finally standing again, that took long enough. I might as well follow Petunia to the kitchen. I swear I had the idea first. She must be psychic or something, knowing that I was coming in here. Maybe she'll wait two bloody seconds before complaining about being in the same room as me this time.

"Mummy, Lily called me a whore."

Oh, mother's in the kitchen. Never mind about the whole bonding thing, that's out the window.

Wait, rewind. BLOODY HELL. When did I call her a whore? I mean, yea, she is one, but I don't recall calling her one.

"Lillian Marie Anna Lynn Evans, when will you learn that you have no right to call your sister such discriminating names."

Like you haven't used them before mother. By the way, my mother couldn't decide on one middle name, so she gave me three. That's just another reason of why I, Lily Evans, am an absolute loser. Or, as Petunia loves to call me, freak.

"I'm terribly sorry mother, but I meant it in the nicest way possible. I mean, Petunia is so beautiful and exceedingly charming. Of course handsome young chaps will flock to her."

Flock straight into her panties.

Luckily my mother's beeper started buzzing at that exact moment. Coincidence? No. Miracle? Yes. That beeper that I hated for the past sixteen years of my life has just saved me from a ten minute long lecture on being a disgrace to our family. I knew it wasn't a good for nothing, cheap, annoying, lowdown, nasty, spiteful, explosi—

"Oh, I have to run girls. Business trip for the weekend. I'll be back Monday night."

She's off getting laid by her boss. She'll be back Friday. Remind me why my dad is still married to her?

Oh yeah, he wants me to "grow up in a house full of love without the complications of divorce."

Okay. Point number one, this house has no love considering my dad is never home. And number two, who says he has to divorce her? Just leave and take me with you.

Well, I might as well spend the rest of this wonderful summer, which just started yesterday by the way, watching reruns and getting fat off donuts. Nah, that won't work. Donuts are overdone; I'll have to go with cookies. No, Chocolate Frogs will work just fine. Come to think of it, I'm not very hungry.

Yea, this is the foreboding of a great summer.

I, Lily Evans, sixteen year old, ragged excuse for a girl, am not off to a good start at spending the next three months with my beloved family.

I'd like to mention that sarcasm is a wonderful thing.