Author's note circa 2016: I started FTFM in 2014, back when I was still a fledgling author. I promise you that my writing has improved dramatically since then, but the first year or so of this story is a bit . . . eugh. I'm sorry, but I'm too lazy to make dramatic alterations. So, stick it out for a little while, and hopefully there'll be a brighter sky on the horizon.

Heyyyyyy!

Okay, first things first - I will not be referencing any outside sources for this story, except a full moon calendar. So, no Harry Potter Wiki, and no Pottermore. Generally. Maybe I'll clarify names or something, but everything else goes out the window. If it's not mentioned in the books, it doesn't happen. 'Kay?

Alrighty, onwards! I know I said on my profile that I would do one story at a time. And I say, screw that resolution. I needed to write this. I have my plan set out and everything, and temptation was to much to resist. Okay. I don't have much to say now, except read and review!

Cheers!

~Ice.

1 – The Beginnings of Introductions

Lily

'Come on, Tuney!'

Lily Evans started running towards the playground, constantly stopping and turning, waiting for her sister to catch up. The wind blew her long, red hair around her face. She swept it away impatiently. Petunia took her time to walk primly up the hill, like the polite little lady she had been raised to be.

'I'm coming, Lily. You shouldn't run. The mud will ruin your shoes.'

Lily huffed and turned again, ignoring what Petunia said, and sprinted onto the playground, diving onto the swing in her haste to get there. She shuffled around, getting comfortable, then kicked off the ground, sending the swing high into the air. Petunia pursed her lips in disapproval, and made one more comment about ruined shoes before perching on the swing beside her, slowly swinging backwards and forwards.

Lily laughed as she gained more height, getting almost as high as the swing frame before gravity pushed her back down again. It had taken a lot of persuading to convince her sister to take her to the playground, as Petunia wanted to stay home and do whatever big girls such as her liked to do. Lily had all but begged on her hands and knees, proposing that they could go to the library afterwards. At that suggestion, Tuney had agreed.

Lily had begun soaring up past the frame now, and an idea came to her. 'I'm going to let go.'

'What?'

'I'm going to let go. I want to fly.'

'Lily.' Petunia's tone had become stern. 'No.'

'Three . . . two . . .'

'Lily, don't do it!'

'One!' Lily let go of her swing and soared through the air, laughing as she did so. She landed delicately on her feet a few metres away and turned to Petunia, grinning.

'Mummy told you not to!' Petunia stopped swinging and got off. She stood up, putting her hands firmly on her hips. Lily giggled.

'Mummy said you weren't allowed, Lily!'

'But I'm fine,' Lily said. She looked over at a bush nearby. 'Tuney, look at this. Watch what I can do.'

She picked up a little, pale pink flower and held it in her hand. She had discovered this last week when playing in her garden at home. She kept back a grin and concentrated. The flower petals began curling open and closed, like delicate wings. She looked up at Petunia, waiting for her reaction.

'Stop it!' Tuney shrieked. Lily pouted, and tossed it to the ground.

'It's not hurting you.'

'It's not right,' Petunia muttered, watching the flower. But after a moment, curiosity obviously got the better of her. 'How do you do it?'

'It's obvious, isn't it?'

Lily jumped in surprise. A boy had come out from behind the bush. His black hair hung limp around his face, and the clothes he wore were too big for him. He was small and skinny.

'What's obvious?' Lily asked.

He spared Petunia a quick glance and his voice lowered. 'I know what you are.'

Lily was confused. She didn't know this boy, yet he was claiming to know who she was. And she already knew what she was. She was Lily Evans, she had turned nine years old on the 30th of January, she lived at 27 Nottingshire Place . . . so what was this boy talking about?'

'What do you mean?'

'You're . . . you're a witch.'

Lily frowned. 'That's not a very nice thing to say to somebody!'

She turned around, back to Petunia. She didn't want anything to do with this boy.

'No!' he cried. Lily and Petunia were both holding onto the swing frame, watching him suspiciously.

'You are,' the boy insisted. 'You are a witch. I've been watching you for a while. But there's nothing wrong with that. My mum's one, and I'm a wizard.'

Lily felt her eyebrows travel up her head. His story was so silly. Tuney seemed to think so, too. She gave a mirthless laugh. 'Wizard! I know who you are. You're that Snape boy!'

She turned to Lily. 'They live down Spinner's End by the river.' She looked back at Snape, a glare on her face. 'Why have you been spying on us?'

'Haven't been spying,' Snape said uncomfortably. 'Wouldn't spy on you, anyway. You're a Muggle.'

Tuney flinched as though she had been slapped. Lily pursed her lips. She didn't know what he had just said, but she wasn't really liking this boy.

'Lily, come on, we're leaving,' Petunia said, flouncing off down the hill towards the gate. Lily didn't need telling twice. She glared at Snape then followed her.

When they were both home, Lily went to her room and sat on her bed, thinking. Why did that Snape boy think she was a witch? She was perfectly normal. She . . . no, that was a lie. She wasn't normal. She knew that.

Once, when she was five, there was a boy at school who liked to tease her and call her names. Eventually, Lily got so upset that she called him a stupid, warty toad, and somehow his skin took on an odd, green hue and ugly bumps sprouted up all over his face. Lily had insisted that it wasn't her fault. Another time in third grade, her teacher Mr Green liked to give her the hardest questions to solve and blamed her for everything that went wrong. One day, during a particularly difficult maths lesson, just as he started sneering at her, all of the chalk exploded and the cloth chalkboard rubber "slipped" out of his hands and hit him repeatedly over the head. Somehow, Lily still managed to take the blame for that one.

She wondered if Snape was right. She wasn't normal, so what if she was a witch?

A few weeks later, Lily had decided to go and ask Snape about her being a "witch." Her curiosity was effectively getting the better of her, and she wanted answers. That day, while her parents were out running errands and Tuney was too busy grooming herself at her armoire to care, she went for a walk. She knew Spinner's End wasn't far from her house and she could figure out what else to do once she got there.

Just as she turned onto the street, Lily practically ran head-first straight into someone. The boy stumbled backwards with a grunt, and Lily began frantically spluttering her apologies. The boy looked up.

'Snape!' she cried. 'Actually, well, I was looking for you, really. I wanted to talk.'

Snape flushed slightly at her upfront statement, and took a moment to respond. 'Sure. There's . . . there's a grove near that park that we can go to.'

Lily nodded earnestly. 'Of course.' She turned around and started walking. After a moment, it occurred to her that Snape wasn't following. 'Aren't you coming?' she asked.

'Uh, yeah. Absolutely.'

When they reached the grove, Lily sat down with her back against a tree. Snape sat across from her, a metre away. 'So . . . what did you want to talk about?'

'You said that I was a witch,' Lily said. 'Can you tell me about it?'

Snape nodded. 'Sure. When you're eleven, you get a letter from Hogwarts asking you to attend.'

'Hogwarts?'

'It's the school. Dumbledore's the Headmaster. He's also really famous. Just about every witch or wizard knows him.'

'When do we go?'

'On the first day of September, there's a train that takes us there. I think they'll tell you more about that in your letter.'

Lily adjusted herself and propped her chin on her knees, hugging her legs to her chest. 'I always knew I was different. I never thought it was magic, though.'

'Yeah,' Snape said, agreeing. 'We're special.'

There was a comfortable silence, as Lily skimmed through the huge number of questions filling her head. She had no idea what to ask first.

Oh. There was something in particular.

'Snape?'

He looked up. 'Severus.'

'What?'

'It's Severus. Snape's my last name.'

'Oh. Okay. Well, Severus . . . why isn't Tuney going?'

Severus chewed his lip, an uncomfortable expression crossing his face. 'Well . . . she isn't a witch.'

'You called her something the other day. Started with M, I think.'

'A Muggle?'

'Yeah, that's it. What's a Muggle?'

'They're non-magical people,' Severus said officially, as though he had been practising it. 'Your parents are Muggles, too.'

'But I'm a witch?'

'Yeah.'

'But . . . how does that work?'

Severus paused, thinking over the question. 'I don't know, actually.' He looked up with an apologetic look. 'Sorry.'

Lily brushed it away with a wave of her hand. 'Don't worry about it.'

There was another silence, until Lily broke it with the question that was bothering her the most. 'We can't go 'til we're eleven, can't we?'

Severus shook his head glumly. 'No.'

Suddenly, it occurred to Lily just how long she had been out of the house. 'Oh no. I need to go.'

She jumped to her feet, and looked back at Severus one more time. 'One last question.'

He looked at her expectantly, getting to his feet. 'Sure.'

'Can we be friends?'

He nodded energetically, beaming. 'Of course. That's a great idea.'

Lily grinned. 'Okay, then. Goodbye.' With that, she waved and turned, running out of the grove.

After that, two years seemed to fly, with Lily visiting Severus in their grove of trees, talking about Hogwarts and what they would do there. Then, one warm, July morning, there was a knock at the door as the Evans family were cleaning up the breakfast dishes.

'Get the door please, Lily,' Rose called as she dipped another plate into the soapy water. Michael didn't look up from his paper. Petunia handed their mother another stack of dishes.

Lily slid out of her seat and made her way down the hall to the front door, wrapping her dressing gown more tightly around herself. She pulled open the door.

There, standing on the front porch, was a woman wearing emerald robes. Her black hair was pulled up into a tight bun and a pair of spectacles perched on the bridge of her nose. Lily felt her eyes widen to the size of saucers.

'Erm, hello,' she murmured timidly. The woman gave her a brief nod.

'Good morning. Lily, is it?'

'Yes,' Lily replied. She wasn't sure how this woman knew her name. But she was filled with the strangest feeling as she looked up at her . . .

'Are your parents here?' the woman asked, snapping her out of her reverie.

'Yes,' Lily responded again, stepping aside so she could enter. The woman obliged and stepped into the hallway, looking to the kitchen where noises could still be heard. Lily led her into the kitchen, where her mother looked up from the sink.

'Good morning,' the woman said again. 'My name is Minerva McGonagall. I am here to speak to both you and Lily about her enrolment at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.'

Rose's eyes widened, and she dried her hands on a tea towel. 'So, it's true then?' she asked. 'The school? The magic?'

Minerva nodded and pulled a letter from inside her robes. 'This is for you,' she said, handing it to Lily. Rose asked another question, but Lily didn't hear it. A dull hum had filled her ears, blocking out all sound. She looked at the first side, where written in emerald ink was:

Miss L. Evans

Second Bedroom on the Left

27 Nottingshire Place

Cokeworth

She gently turned it over with trembling hands to find a seal on the other side. There was a crest on the seal, split into four quadrants. In each quadrant was a lion, a serpent, a badger and an eagle. She opened the letter and pulled out the thick slip of yellowish parchment. She unfolded it and started reading:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Miss Evans,

We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Lily felt her jaw drop. This was it. She was going to Hogwarts with Severus. She was going to Hogwarts!

She looked up, where her mother was still asking questions and Minerva answering them. After about half an hour, when all of the details had been explained and all of the locations pointed out, she left, leaving the whole family (minus Petunia) in a daze.

'My daughter is a witch . . .' Rose murmured. 'My daughter is really a witch . . .'

Lily couldn't hold it back any more. She let out a squeal and ran to her room, throwing the door shut and tossing the letter onto the bedcovers. She tracked down a sheet of paper and made up a calendar counting down the days until the first of September. She then tacked it to her wall and collapsed onto her bed next to the letter, feeling giddy.

She was going to learn how to use magic. She was going to learn how to make potions. She was going to go with Severus. Relishing the thought of enjoying the most amazing experience of her life with her best friend, she grabbed her pillow and buried her face into it, grinning.