ONE MORE DAY
by: Riseha

Chapter 3

I dallied. On purpose. I should've gone to Diagon Alley to get my school things – and Dad was nagging me about it – but I waited until July 31st to head there. Hermione had consented to wait that long but she was fussed about how the stores might've run out of school supplies already.

I doubted it. Wizards could make duplicates of an item with a wave of their wand. As I assured her, but it hardly did anything to rub the frown on her brows.

Why did I wait for July 31st you ask?

I dimly recalled Harry had went to Diagon Alley on the same day and I intended to meet him. To annoy my father. I was going to force his hand; I was going to make him suffer in reminiscences of his relationship with Lily Evans; I was going to make him pay attention to me, get involved in my life – even if I'd have to put up with his nagging to stop making friends with Potter.

He'd nag if he cared.

"Please, tell me you do – give me a chance, you don't have to be alone!" I wanted so badly to tell him this. But my courage would fail me. Expressing affection and love came so terribly tough for me when Mom did it with ease. Aside from her vivacious beauty, her self-confidence was what I wished I'd inherited.

This was assuming I could actually befriend Harry.

Hermione being my only friend was testament to the fact I wasn't terribly friendly.

"Lily!" Ah, Hermione was here. "Your dad's here!"

I got down there so quickly I might as well have Apparated. "Hi, Dad!" I chirped. The smile I'd geared up conked out the moment I walked into the scene waiting for me at the sitting room, which was directly before the foyer.

Cole sat at the bottom of the stairs. The scowl that was his trademark was directed at me. His loathing of my existence – and girls in general – made the tense awkward in the air that much more obvious. David glanced uncertainly between me and my father, offering me a tremulous quirk to his lips.

The stiffness of Mom's shoulder, the displeased purse of Zack's lips, and Dad's angry look at the spectacular paintjob of the house – all of them clued me in on one thing: they didn't get along.

Dad's eyes cut to me. "We best be along. Come, Clarissa."

Mom sniffed angrily. That she didn't speak kicked my mood into the dump. I'd never been happier to leave the driveway of David's house. Hermione spoke once we were out. "I suppose … I shouldn't have let your father enter…?"

"Mr Griffith invited me in," Dad coolly interrupted before I could respond. "Your mother was unhappy about his amicability. Immature as always, Melanie." His sneer sparked a surge of protective fury. I stomped on his robe, nearly tripping him. Dad rounded on me, Hermione shrunk behind me at the might of his glare, and though my jaw trembled, I stood my ground.

"I'm sorry," I lied, mouth curving, "I wasn't looking where I was going."

Dad's lips curled in disdain. Not at me, but at my terrible lie; it was so damned obvious I had done that intentionally. He didn't punish or chide me. He wasn't that sort. He was the type to let me realize I was being punished in a seemingly innocent action.

"We must hasten our trip before the crowd thickens even more," said Dad in clipped tones. He hated crowds and I was no fan of them either. Dad glanced surreptitiously at Hermione, as if gauging the amount of guts she'd have. Then, to the dread curling like a fist in my gut, he almost smiled pleasantly.

Almost.

With no little amount of dread and confusion, Hermione and I stared as Dad raised his wand. "We'll be taking a transport most popular in wizarding Britain – the Knight's Bus."

I, intolerant of any forms of vehicle transport due to motion sickness, blanched.

xXx

I puked on a school trip before; a three hour journey on bus.

The Knight's Bus nearly killed me. I mean it. When the surface I was on finally stopped rocking, I found myself draped over my father's lap, drowsy and utterly sick to my stomach.

Hermione was out of the bus, hands clapped over her mouth, before I could gather myself. I glimpsed her telltale bushy brown hair disappearing through the doors. "Dad," I groaned – a mangled sound of the endearment. "Tell … tell Mom I love her … I don't think I can … urk, make it bac—"

Dad rolled his eyes. "Get off me, Clarissa." A more useful incentive was added not a moment later: "Before the bus moves. Unless of course—" He sounded sadistically pleased.

I bolted after Hermione, shoving an aged witch out of my way, ignoring her shout of anger.

"That was …" Hermione's face was still tinged with green. "Let's never ride it ever again." I nodded fervently in agreement. In a lower voice, she whispered in my ear, "And never trip your father's cloak ever again!"

Don't I know that already?

I glanced in the direction of the man who'd contributed to my creation, to my second life. When I thought I was going to die, it had been him and Mom who'd saved me, however much unintentionally. It made me wonder how different this alternate universe was; a universe where Lilian Clarissa Fiennes-Snape existed.

In a way, this universe was for me.

I couldn't stop the pleased smile spreading across the lips – it comforted me to feel special, even for a brief moment.

xXx

Dad trailed behind Hermione and I, pointing out the stores we'd need to visit and giving out pointers to what we should buy when we were in the apothecary.

In the aforementioned apothecary, I took a step back and stared as my father instructed Hermione about the uses of bezoar. She, ever curious, had asked and he'd answered without a bite in his tone. It was all so different from their canon relationship.

Had she reminded him of Lily Evans? Even though the color was off, the mind was brilliant all the same.

It was ridiculous to feel jealous of Hermione when I was the one who really didn't have interest in potions. Still, I was unreasonably cheered up once we were back in the open-street, with the sun smoothing its rays down our hairs, and seeing the street jammed with cloaked magical folks.

"Your father's really knowledgeable, Lily!" Hermione was rambling as we shuffled into Madam Malkin's. I noticed my father's shadow wasn't covering mine so I turned to look.

And finally got a glimpse of the timeline.

Draco Malfoy stood between his parents. Lucius Malfoy had clearly stopped for a chat. Frown tugged at my brows. I followed after Hermione and hoped Madam Malkin's would take a very long time so I could avoid the politics of Death Eaters.

Being judged what I was worth by them? No thanks. I'd rather be chewed out in the principal's office than that.

"Is that your father's old friend?" asked Hermione once she was done singing praises for Snape. I nodded absentmindedly, eyes drilling into the back of Lucius' head. "He looks … pristine. Elegant."

"He's one of the pure-bloods I told you about," I said, offering an input besides monosyllabic answers. "It's best to stay away from his son and his gang. Even though we could've kicked his asses in a duel any day, it'd be a waste of time."

"Wouldn't they have an edge in class?" Hermione frowned at the very troubling thought.

"You'd catch up." I shifted my attention to my Muggle-born friend. Saw the witch she'd grow up to become and I smiled. "By the sounds of it, that boy has spent more time on a broom than with a wand. We'll beat him in no time!"

A smile touched upon her lips. Her hair was swept back by Madam Malkin's who threw a robe around her and pinned it in several places at once. "Yeah."

"Muggle-borns?" inquired Madam Malkin curiously, smiling too. She was a kind-faced woman and she seemed genuinely interested, unlike the typical storekeepers in the Muggle world who only spoke to dig up information about your wealth – see if they could con you into paying higher prices.

"I am," said Hermione. "But Lily's a half-blood."

Madam Malkin's mouth morphed into a sad shape. "Lily? I knew a Muggle-born witch named Lily." She eyed my wavy curls. "You look a bit like her; same red hair and complexion. She was a very talented witch." Her eyes turned misty – sadness clouding them.

"I know," I said.

Goosebumps pricked my skin at the mention of Lily Evans. She who still had such a powerful grasp on my father even without trying.

I didn't like that at all.

xXx

It seemed to take forever but we were finally at the wand shop.

I was eager enough to break into a run – running was my outlet to excitement, as people around me knew very well by now, so Hermione and Dad didn't give chase, content to walk at a tortoise's pace.

Good thing: I was close to the wand shop.

Bad thing: I bowled Harry Potter over.

I was sure it was him. Shaggy black hair all over the place and bright green eyes that, beneath the veil of sunray, sparkled with sprinkles of golden stardust. His skin was paler than even mine, a shade of healthy peach. In comparison, I looked like I could snap him in half. Because of how much more healthy-looking I was.

And yes, I took this all in as I gaped at his fallen form, without offering a hand to help.

I reached for his wand and replaced it into its box as he'd already stood without my help. "Uh, sorry." I floundered a bit. Even though I wanted to rebel against my father – to gain his attention in a hopefully, not so childish and innocent way – I didn't know what to say or do now.

"It's okay." He was quieter than I'd expected.

I handed him his wand back so he could go on his own merry way. Green eyes blinked at my chest. Which wouldn't have made as much sense if he'd been fifteen or older. Actually, in canon, had Harry even exhibited signs that he was sexual?

I didn't think so. He only had crushes. Which were pretty tame.

"What're you staring at?" I asked, brow quirked, glancing down. I was dressed in Muggle clothing. To spite Cole, I'd snatched his favorite purple shirt – with an accurate tagline of 'I hate maths but I like counting money' – and white jeans that wasn't as loose once I'd put on a belt.

(No, we still didn't get along.)

"Your hair…" I blinked. I thought he was going to compliment it but he reached over and plucked something – a red slug I distinctly recalled from a plastic case in the apothecary – off the tangling curls of red. I couldn't stop a yelp of surprise – how had I not noticed something wriggling in it? "Your hair looks better without it," he decided, finishing his previous sentence firmly.

That startled a laugh out of me.

The sharp call of my name, followed by my father's menacing presence, cut the laughter short. Dad's eyes practically glazed over in ice when he saw James Potter's son. "Get a move on," he snapped at the boy.

Harry cast him a slightly startled look, an uncertain glance at me. I gave him a barely perceptible nod. He darted away, disappearing into the crowd swarming us. "Is that Harry Potter?" I asked my father.

Hermione gasped slightly. "I've heard about him in the bookstore and—"

"He is a brat with an inflated ego that swelled his head to the proportion of a Ford Angelina," Dad finished crudely, waspishly, startling Hermione. I made a gesture that meant, "I'll explain later," and she accepted his reasoning without comment. "Don't mix with the likes of that fool." Then he swept into Ollivander's.

I glanced in the direction Harry had disappeared in and only saw the fading outline of Hagrid's half-giant back.

It's starting – the story is beginning!

xXx

"Mom, stop fussing already!"

That cry preceded my action: I lunged and tried to drag my trunk from her. Mom let go with a pout. I worried that she'd blemish her lipstick. "I'm done packing," I insisted for the ninth time. my heart was still beating fast: had I interfered a second later, she would've seen stuff she shouldn't have seen.

My wand – an eleven inch of hazel wood beauty enclosed over an exotic phoenix feather tail – my spellbooks, my cauldron and box of potion ingredients – everything. I gulped at the close call.

Mom didn't accept magic the first time Dad showed it to her. He'd wiped her memories and considered the topic closed, never to be reopened again. I think her inability to accept the existence of magic and instead, accused him of being insane, and slowly driving her there too, had largely contributed to the enmity in their relationship.

Had Mom's conduct reminded him of Tobias Snape?

The Muggle who abused Eileen?

Understandable. I'd given up trying to make them get along. Mom had David now. She didn't need Dad. I was a different matter; I needed him. I was scared of Voldemort. What if I was forced into servitude? The thought made me swallow thickly – I even had nightmares about it – since I had a hard time obeying. I despised being ruled over, forced to kneel and kissed the hem of anyone's robes.

It was degrading.

If I was going to die anyway, I'd die straight-backed; proud and unbending.

Of course, that'd be what my father, a Slytherin, calls idiocy. My pride is too large sometimes, I admit. I just hoped my hubris wouldn't get me killed along the way.

And that he'd stop it from happening too.

I was his daughter. To some level, I must've mattered to him … right?

"Lilian!"

I blinked, turning to look at my mother as I retightened the straps of the trunk. "Um, yeah?"

Mom huffed. "I asked if you wanted to watch a movie together. It's your last night here with us." The lines around her eyes sagged in wistfulness – she didn't want me to leave but she didn't want to stop me if it made me happy to be in my father's boarding school either. "We won't be having you for nine months …" Her hand ghosted over her stomach, upset.

Even though I wasn't a fan of horror movies that the whole family was, I agreed pretty quickly.

At least I know Zack won't say anything if I wiggled into his bed and positively cowered at my own imagination.

Fear was a powerful, driving emotion. How dangerous it was depended on which direction fear drove you in. Me, when I was scared shitless by horror movies, I could create 3D effects. A month ago, there was this stupidly horrifying movie and the shitty ghost lunged at the screen.

I shrieked and it actually crawled out. I think I'd blacked out in fright. Because when I came to, it was back in the screen. I would've passed it off as my overactive imagination again, had David not said, "Technology these days are amazing! For a second there, I thought the ghost crawled out of the TV!"

Accidental magic spurned on my horror movies made me more apprehensive of them. The last thing I wanted was to bring the serial killers and zombies into this world.

That night found me curled into Zack's side. He was about four years older than my twelve years, putting him about sixteen. Cole, being the middle sibling, was two years younger than him and two years above me. Trapped in his moody teenage phase, he was the epitome of unbearable.

I think Cole got that attitude from his mother. Zack was like David, pleasant and sweet.

A type of sweet that got sickeningly annoying. As I found out the next morning at King's Cross station. It would be terribly troublesome if any of my family members saw how I'd disappear in between the platform of 9 and 10 but they were unwilling to let me go alone either.

Stuck in a dilemma, I desperately sought for Hermione and her parents. If Mr and Mrs Granger were there, they'd be more at ease to send me away.

Zack found the need to escort me right up the train. "Where's your ticket?" he persisted, head turning in every direction to see a possible candidate. "Do you have it? Which train?"

My mouth dried. I was a terrible liar; what do I say? Why didn't Dad come to my help? "I … actually, Zack, the train is –"

Zack's blue eyes widened in surprise – a precedent to a tug on my long hair – before they narrowed rather coldly, surprising me with the change of his normally kind eyes. I turned to see a nervous grin pasted on a green-eyed boy's face.

I nearly said his name. "Who're you?" demanded Zack angrily.

"The Boy! I mean, he's a schoolmate," I hastily amended.

"From your public school?" Zack and I didn't go to the same school so he couldn't find the lie in my nod. "And you're going to the same boarding school."

"Yeah." Harry, you're such a lifesaver! "So we'll be boarding the train together, no need to worry!" I insisted, detaching my trunk from Zack's hands.

My stepbrother looked slightly hurt I wanted to ditch him so quickly. We couldn't stay for long though. My train would leave and Mom had an appointment with the doc in London. "Take care," he made me promise and I did. Never shy in expressing affection, he brushed his lips across my forehead, smiled and left. I was ninety-nine percent sure he'd lurk in where he thought I wouldn't be able to see and wait. Or trail after me.

"Three more minutes to eleven," The Boy said, looking uncomfortably and sorry. Must be the overlarge clothes. Or he was sorry he'd intruded on a private family moment. The skin stretching my forehead was still tingling. "Sorry to bother you but do you know—"

"This way!" I took his hand, tightening my grip on my trunk and ran, pulling him behind me like a flag in the wind.

Two minutes…

I accidentally shoved some poor Muggle and we darted around a huge compilation of luggage and family. I took zigzagging routes, in case Zack was following.

One minute –

Giving up the charade, I pulled The Boy harder and we plunged across the barrier separating the Muggle and the Wizarding world.

xXx

[AN]: Late. Beyond late. Sorry about that lol I just recently got into a Harry Potter funk again. My other SI, Closer, is also halfway done with the next chapter. It might be up soon.

I've been so out of touch with this story that I forgot my OC's name and the timeline. Just to be sure: David's last name is Griffith, not Chase. As for the crossovers theories, no, it's not a crossover unless it's an Omake. Would you like to see it or something?

As I'm running low on inspirations right now, I'd like it if you guys can contribute ideas. Pairings, etc? Do you guys even like Harry/Ginny?

Read and Review!