Hey there! This is not my first fanfiction, but it is my first multichaptered story. It's a Lily/James story.

The beginning is a bit different than any other L/J intro I've seen, so read it and tell me if it's a good different or bad different. Most of the chapters will be longer than this; Chapter 1 is definitely one of the shortest.

The writing style is a bit different from what I've ever done; it's kind of like the Bras and Broomsticks series by Sarah Mlynowski. Sort of.

Title: Summer Magic

Era: Summer before Marauders 7th year

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the HP universe. This goes for all future chapters.

Rating: T for suggestive comments and mild language.

Summary: You mean to say that Potter's family is coincidentally staying across the street from our beach house for the summer, Mum and Mrs. Potter are now randomly best friends, and they expect me to hang out with that git all summer! You have got to be joking.

The world we live in isn't an easy one.

Everywhere you turn there's something bad happening. Poverty, hunger, heartbreak, murder, rape, war, you name it, and we've got it. All the negative makes people want to find the positive. They search for it, they crave it. And it's there. We all know it's there. Where there's bad, there's good; if there's darkness, there's light. It makes sense, right? It's basically a law of physics: There's an opposite for everything to keep the balance.

On an earth where things can go tragically wrong, people like to call it "magic" when something goes inexplicably, coincidentally, perfectly right.

What is it when a man who has been unemployed for years becomes a billionaire after an unexpected job offer? Magic.

How do you explain a terminally ill child's wonderful, sudden recovery when his family could hardly afford dinner the next night? Magic.

A woman was depressed and had suicidal thoughts for years, but then she met her old high school sweetheart again after nearly a decade? It was magic.

Not everyone would call it magic, though. More realistic people would say it was luck; practical beings would say it was fate; religious communities would call it their god's working. Only a few would actually go so far to say something happened because of magic, but plenty of people nowadays don't mind saying an event, or heck, their life, was magical.

But it doesn't take much for a person to forget about the magic and focus on the bad. A few things knock a man down and life doesn't seem to go his way, and the next thing you know, you're hearing a story on the news about someone who tried to kill himself by jumping off a bridge.

It's a good thing I'll never have to worry about losing that magical perspective of life. Because no matter how bad things get, I'll know I'm magical.

No, seriously. Don't worry; I'm not one of those freaky optimists who could be stuck at the bottom of a well in the middle of a forest and still find something to smile about. I'm actually quite realistic, if not pessimistic. Definitely sarcastic.

The real reason that I'll always be able to find the magic in life is because I am magic; I'm a witch.

I, Lily Sophia Evans, am a witch of the age of seventeen who attends Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It's a good thing, too, because these days it's getting kind of hard to find the magic in life.

So from the month of September to the month of June, I'm literally surrounded by magic. It makes it next to impossible to find life to be dreary when you know you can pick up a stick of wood, wave it, say some words, and make practically anything happen.

I guess it's cooler to me since I'm Muggleborn (my parents are Muggles, non-wizarding people). I thought I was just this freaky kid when all of a sudden BAM! Someone's saying, "You're a witch, Lily. Take a train to this castle and your life will be changed forever." And boy was he serious.

I'm assuming that people are going to think, "Well, good for you, your surrounded by magic and happy for ten months of school. You probably have extremely boring and Muggle summers," but they would be wrong. My summers are magical to me as well.

At times, I'll almost think that my two months at the beach house with my family is filled with as much magic as my ten months at Hogwarts; it's just a very different kind of magic.

It's hard to explain, really, but there's just something about my summers. Ever since I was six years old, my family and I have spent the summer at the same adorable beach house in Shrivers for eight weeks. It's a little blue house with four bedrooms, a living room, a little library, and a kitchen for my mum. And bathrooms, of course. It's also right on the coast of the ocean. It's so close to the beach you can hear the waves crashing at night. There's also a bunch of other houses around, and a town full of little shops walking distance away.

The blue house we come to has a wraparound porch and a balcony that will overlook the waves. Luckily for me, the door to the balcony is in my room, so basically the balcony is my own special spot. Petunia (my big sister) and I used to camp out on it, but nowadays it'll be used for me to stare up at the moon and think, or to sneak out late at night and meet the cute sixteen year old Bulgarian who was staying a few houses away…But that's a different story.

Each summer at the beach is different and similar, all at the same time. Every year, my room still has the rose colored covers and the house still smells like salt water and Mum's chocolate chip cookies. The hammock is still on my balcony and no matter how hard we sweep the year before, there's always just a little bit of sand on the porch and in the entranceway when we come back. The same street festival shows up every year as well as the expected new people, but every summer has something a little different.

The first summer here, when I was six, my family spent day after day exploring. The next summer Petunia and I attempted to make the largest sand castle the world has ever seen; we got pretty close. We went bike riding and sailing the summers after. When I was twelve, Severus spent a few weeks with me at the beach, and we got into all sorts of mischief. At the age of fourteen, I met a girl who turned into my best friend, Abigail. I got my first kiss on the beach at fifteen. I found a cave a little ways away on the beach with a girl named Jasmine when I was sixteen.

Each summer has its own magic and adventure to it, but this year just might be the last summer like that.

My mum is a baker. She owns a little shop back home where she makes cakes and cookies, occasionally cupcakes. In reality, she should have been a florist. Judging from the fact that my name is Lily and my sister's name is Petunia, one could easily tell my mother likes flowers. She has such a good green thumb; it's more like she was a green hand. I'm not quite sure why exactly she didn't just become a florist. I do know that she is happy as a baker, though. Her flowers are still involved in her life, however, since she tends to her garden daily and she's known for her fresh flower petals decorating her cakes.

That might be why I'm so good at Potions in school. In Potions, you read the instructions and do what it says to get the final product. It's just like baking a cake. Except my mum's cakes never knock a person out, make him incessantly laugh, nor give him the best day of his life, but it's generally the same.

I once tried to explain to my fellow classmates what my parents do. My dad is an engineer, and I didn't know of anything like that in the wizarding world my first year, so I just tried my best to describe it; everyone stared at me confusedly when I was done. So after that horrible explanation, I decided to describe what my mum does in the wizarding sort of way. I had said, "My mum basically has the same job as whoever makes all the desserts here at Hogwarts." Unfortunately, I didn't know the house elves made all the food. It took almost three months for everyone to stop teasing me and telling me my mum was a house elf.

The thing is I'm really close with my mum. It's good that I have her, too, considering the war going on right now, but I'm not sure how much longer I'll have her for.

Mum has skin cancer.

She got diagnosed a few months ago, but I don't think there's really much she can do about it. She's taking medicine, of course, but a person really never knows. It absolutely terrifies me that she might not be here for the next summer.

That's why I'm determined to make this summer the best one for all of us.

There's only a few people who come back to our little beach house neighborhood every year. We're one of the families, but the Rohers, an elderly couple, regularly come back; sometimes with their kids and grandkids, sometimes just the two of them. The Fallys also come every year with their six children, but we don't see them that often since the kids aren't allowed to talk to anyone outside of their family.

There are always the townies, too, but I don't really hang out with them. Some of the ones I know are okay, but the rest are kind of… Rather, people I wouldn't normally hang out with.

More often than not, it's totally new people every year, which is all the better to me.

When I was fifteen, I met Abigail, one of my really good friends. She's my age and a Muggle that lives in the very northern parts of England. She doesn't know I'm a witch. I wasn't too sure how okay it was to tell Muggles what you are, but I asked Professor McGonagall (my Transfiguration teacher and Head of my House) and she said it was acceptable, but dangerous in these times. I decided not to tell Abby. Not yet. I still write and keep in touch with her, even though she hasn't come back to the beach.

I also met Stefan the next summer. He actually did turn out to be a wizard, but he attends Durmstrang. He was quite the looker if I say so myself, and I had my first kiss with him.

Overall, it didn't really surprise me when I begin reading one of my favorite Muggle books, A Tale of Two Cities, and my mum says, "Lily, would you mind helping me make dinner? We're having company tonight!"

"Who?" I ask, already positive I won't know them.

"A lady I just met down the street. Her name's Elladora and her husband is Charles. They're new here, but quite lovely! They don't know anyone, so I invited them over."

I sigh. My mother thinks everyone is "quite lovely", and she's always socializing and trying to know more people. "Sure, I'll help." I get off my favorite wicker arm chair and set my book down to help my mum cook.

"They even have a son your age," Mum casually says. "I don't remember what his name was, but I'm sure he's so nice if he's anything like his parents."

This perks my ears up. A boy, eh? I'd just ended my relationship with Wes MacMillian over a month ago, so I was a free bird now. "What did you say their last name was?" I ask, hopefully just as casually.

My mother pauses in getting the food out of the refrigerator. "What was it? Patterson? Pensley? Oh, no, I can't remember."

Mum used to be able to remember everything. I wasn't too sure if that was changing because of the cancer or because of the stress of the cancer. Either way, I wasn't going to let her feel bad. "No worries, Mum. I guess I'll find out tonight. Thank goodness, since I haven't met anyone my age here yet."

Mum chuckles. "Yes, you will. Now I was thinking… How about pasta, salad, and my triple chocolate fudge cake? They said their son would eat anything…"

"What boy wouldn't?" I mutter, vaguely thinking of the wild animals the boys in my year turn into at mealtime.

Mum didn't hear me. "…and could you get out the tomatoes and ground beef? You can start making the sauce."

I maneuver my way around my bustling mother to the fridge. If this Pickle boy, or whatever his last name is, is as nice as my mother says he would be, and even remotely cute, this summer could turn out to be very nice.

After putting my blood, sweat, and tears into the adventure

of raiding my closet and Petunia's (who isn't arriving for a few more weeks, due to having to spend "quality time" with her boyfriend, Vernon Dursely), I successfully find an appropriate outfit for dinner.

I picked a deep purple top with a denim skirt that hits the middle of my thighs and some sandals. It's slightly on the boring side, but at least it won't seem like I'm trying too hard. It's summertime anyway, and everyone wears shorts, t-shirts, and tank tops in the hopes that they'll catch some of the summer sun and tan.

I was worried about Mum at first. I mean, hullo! She has skin cancer and she wants to go to the sunny beach? Although, that magical quality of mine is rather useful, so I was able to cast a spell that will make sure every centimeter of her skin is magically protected from the sun. Now she won't have to wear those awful sunhats the size of an umbrella.

Mum said the Pansys would be here at 8:00. It's now 8:07. Hopefully this lateness isn't genetic, because I don't want my future husband late to our dates. Kidding, but if we're going to be friends this summer, punctuality is a necessity.

Ding dong!

"Lily, could you get that?" They're here!

I put down my brush (since I was trying and failing to make my hair look nicer) and race down the stairs. Upon realizing that this is the complete opposite of "cool and collected", I slow down and stand in front of the door and slowly count to ten. And then I open the door.

There's a boy standing there, but as soon as I open the door, he turns around and starts looking out across the street and a few houses down. I vaguely hear a fire alarm going off not too far away.

My first thought is, He's cute from behind! And then I look closer.

Next I think, Wow, his hair looks just like Potter's from school. And his glasses. And his body. And his…HOLY MOTHER OF MERLIN! It IS Potter!

Potter is still turned around looking over his shoulder. A yellow beach house slightly larger than mine appears to have smoke coming from one of the windows.

Potter's face is torn between frustration and amusement. He starts speaking over his shoulder towards me; I'm still struck dumb.

"…probably burned the cake. Usually our maid does it, but…" He trails off and turns to look at me. Yep, that is definitely Potter.

"Potter!"

"Evans?" His jaw drops. "What are you doing here?"

What am I doing here? What are you doing here? A memory from Platform 9 ¾ a week ago hits me like a ton of bricks.

"Potter, I thought Black was joking when he said you were going to stalk me this summer and find out where I live!"

He had picked his jaw up off the floor, but it drops again after I say this. He looks scandalized by the idea.

"He was! I wouldn't sink that low!"

I have to bite my tongue to keep from saying, "As if!" Just as my resolve is almost gone, an older man and his wife show up. I'm going to go out on a whim here and assume that this is Elladora and Charles, Potter's parents.

His mum is a little shorter than my five foot five self, and has shoulder-length grey hair that I bet was once black. Potter's dad is a little shorter than Potter's near six foot height. Unlike his wife, his hair has that salt-and-pepper look to it, in addition to some lines on his face. Being honest, I'm surprised by how…old they are.

I look over towards the yellow house again; the smoke disappeared and the alarm is no long blaring. You got to love magic.

"Hello, dear," says Mrs. Potter, extending her hand. I shake it. "Are you Amy's daughter?" I nod. "Oh, then you must be Petunia!"

"No ma'am," I say. "She's my older sister, but she's not here right now. I'm Lily. Lily Evans." I don't know why I say my last name. I suppose I'm still in shock and can't think straight.

Mr. and Mrs. Potter look at each other, their eyes wide. "Bollocks," murmurs James.

"So you're the famous Lily Evans!" exclaims Mr. Potter.

"Sorry?"

"You go to school with James, don't you?" I nod again. "Merlin, of course we know about you! James has been talking about you for years!"

"Wha-?" What has that little bugger been telling his parents? Oh, Merlin. What if he told them how I've rudely rejected and yelled at him those many times? What if at dinner they say, "Lily, please pass the bread, you cold-hearted wench!"?

"Oh, yes. All about how you're a Prefect and the top of your class and the prettiest in your year-"

"MUM," Potter forcefully says. His face is bright red and I'm sure mine is as well. I'm the prettiest in our year? That's a blatant lie. Who would have ever thought Potter would say something like that, though? Better yet, who would ever have thought Potter would tell his mum that? I bet he was just practicing his lines with Sirius to ask me out again, the obnoxious prat. I'm probably the only girl who has ever turned him down; he's practically obsessed with getting me to say yes now. And as soon as I would, he'd be off wooing another girl. Stupid git.

Mrs. Potter seems to realize what she is saying, and who she is saying it to, and stops talking. An awkward silence hangs over us. Mr. Potter pulls out a hanky and starts to violently cough. Potter looks at his dad with worry and says, "All right, Dad?" Mr. Potter stops coughing and waves Potter away, turning to smile at me.

All of a sudden, I realize how horrible of a hostess I am with making my guests stand outside and wait.

"I'm so sorry! Come on in!" I hastily exclaim. Potter snorts. I give him a glare usually reserved just for him: squint of the eyes, lowering of the head, closed mouth, and no blinking. Like usual, he ignores it. I hold the door open wider so all three of the Potters can walk on in.

"Mum, Dad!" I call after I follow them in. "Our guests our here!"

Almost immediately, my mother comes out of the kitchen. My father follows from the living room.

"Well, hi!" she says all excited. "So I see you met the Potters, Lily!"

Thanks Mum. Remember their last name now. No, really, it's okay. I honestly didn't want to know that the biggest jerk in existence is coming over to my house to have dinner.

"Er, yes. Actually, Mum," I say, "Pot—James and I go to school together. He's in Gryffindor and a seventh year as well."

Mum's thin once-red-but-now-a-slight-grey eyebrows shoot up. "Is this the James Potter you're always mentioning?"

Mentioning? More like cursing. But, no, sorry, that's the other James Potter at my magical school.

"Yes."

Mum shakes Potter's hand and says, "I'm Mrs. Evans, but you can call me Mrs. Amy."

Potter smiles and says, "James."

Dad leans forward and shakes Potter's hand, too. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Evans," Potter politely says.

Don't trust him, Dad. He's evil. Pure, uncontrolled evil.

Mum grins and turns to Elladora and Charles. "So then you two must be wizards!" Mr. and Mrs. Potter smile as their answer. "What brings you all down to this beach? I know I asked you earlier, but now that I know you have magic, you can tell me if the answer's any different!"

Mrs. Potter smiles again. "No, it's still the same: more quality family time." I look at Potter. I'm ninety-nine percent sure he wouldn't like that idea, but his face is impassive. "We needed a place to escape the magic, but I guess you can never escape it!" All four adults laugh. I want to run up to my room and hide under the covers.

"We must get together often this summer," continues Mrs. Potter. "Charles and I have never been friends with any Muggle adults before!" Looks like Mrs. Potter is just as friendly and social as my mum. Great.

While the mums are talking, Dad turns to Mr. Potter. "I'm Will. Nice to meet you," he says, shaking Mr. Potter's hand.

"Charles. You, too," Mr. Potter says back.

"That would be wonderful!" Mum exclaims to Mrs. Potter. "You three should join us for lunch tomorrow in town and we can show you around. Especially since James and Lily are already friends!"

It feels like time has frozen.

Oh. I get it.

Ha, ha, good one, Brain!

This is all one crazy dream I'm having, and any second my alarm clock is going to go off.

Okay, Clock, go ahead and beep.

Really, it's okay. Go on.

WHY AREN'T YOU BEEPING, CLOCK?

"That would be fantastic!" Mrs. Potter nearly shrieks. I open my eyes. Huh. I didn't even realize I closed them. "I would love to hear about what you do and how you live! And James was just whining a few minutes ago about how his friends, Sirius, Remus, and Peter, won't be able to visit this summer."

Mum lets out a (happy?) gasp. "And Lily was just saying how she hadn't seen any kids her age in the neighborhood lately!"

No, I wasn't. Really, where would you get a crazy idea like that?

"Now James and Lily can spend the summer together!"

"WHAT?"

You mean to say that Potter's family is coincidentally staying across the street from our beach house for the summer, Mum and Mrs. Potter are now randomly best friends, and they expect me to hang out with that git all summer?

You have got to be joking.

Like it? Hate it? Want to see what happens? Put me on story alert and leave a review! Constructive criticism welcomed. Reviews make everything better.

Next chapter should be up in a week!

-MG