This story will be set in a world where Voldemort never existed so the characters may be a little different to how they come across in the books...

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"What's up?" Hermione asked me, perching gracefully on the side of the counter in a very un-Hermione-like fashion.

I threw my brown bag across the room onto the sofa, leant against where she was sat and opened my mouth. "Harry Potter."

Hermione failed drastically at hiding an annoying splutter, before regaining herself and turning to face me. "For a change?"

I shot her a dirty look and walked around the kitchen work surface and into the front room where I collapsed dramatically on the red sofa. "You have no idea how much he makes me-"

"Smile, laugh, go weak at the knees?" Questioned a scarily familiar voice from somewhere behind me.

I kept my eyes closed and didn't move, despite the fact my insides were squirming together in a way that made me wish I hadn't eaten so many sausages this morning. "Actually Potter, I was going for 'Want to hex him into the back of China' but whatever works for you."

I heard the laugh that I had known for sixteen years. It had never failed to irritate me.

"You know you want me, Weasley. Hey Herms, have you seen my Mother around?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Herms? Harry, I'm not an owl."

I felt the movement of air in the warm room as he moved closer, and then the pressure on the back of the sofa as he leant over me.

"Fine, Hermione, have you seen my Mum?"

Hermione laughed dryly. "Nope."

"What about you, Gin?" He mumbled huskily into my ear.

Hitting the side of his head with my left arm, I turned to face him. "Nope."

"Liar."

"Am not."

"Liar."

"Am not."

"Liar."

"Do one, Harry." I muttered, opening my eyes and turning my head to meet his gaze.

The familiar emerald eyes that I could never forget stared back at me, before giving a small wink and facing Hermione.

"You sure you haven't seen her? She's about Ginny's size and has bright red hair...got the same amount of temper as Weasley, as well."

I took a deep breath as I heard him chuckle at his own joke and wonder off, presumably looking for my brother to question him on the whereabouts of his Mum.

I often resented Lily Potter for bringing this tiny piece of living hell into my life, but it was hard to resent Lily Potter – Very hard. I loved her like she was my own mother; the way she laughed, the way she cooked, the way every single word she spoke seemed to dance with light amusement, the way she watched her husband with a disapproving but nonetheless loving expression, the parties she held and the friends she had – everything about her was pretty much amazing.

Her husband was, well, a typical Potter. Please note that Lily was not a born Potter, something I thank my lucky stars for every single day. James made me laugh; he was my godfather and I loved him to bits; I wouldn't be able to cope without his hilarious sense of humour and the way he couldn't go a day without coming up with some sort of practical joke. He was as brilliant as his wife, but I can understand completely why Lily despised him for seven years before she agreed to go out with him. The reason? He was an older version of his only child.

His only child – Harry Potter. My life would be a lot easier without a lot of things, but believe me, that boy tops the list. Let me tell you something about Potter...well, I'll tell you a few things about him actually, but number one; he is unable to go anywhere, not even able to walk into a room, without making everybody else feel inferior to him. He wonders in with his hands pushed deep inside his pockets, gives off this ridiculous cocky smile that has melted ninety nine percent of the girls in Hogwarts' hearts and then winks. After this little performance, everyone in the particular room suddenly decides that this boy is some sort of prophet and should be treated with every ounce of respect a person holds. Let me tell you another thing about Potter; he should not be treated like this. Not at all – whatsoever; it's ridiculous. Everything about the way he says 'Hey, Gin' to way he rides that flaming broomstick, to the way my Mother has adopted him as some sort of other son, to the way he lives about twenty feet away irritates me no end; but of course I can't tell him this because he would laugh in my face and most likely not stop for the next three hundred years.

The Potters have lived 'next door' since I can remember. There is a huge iron gate coming off a lonely road in the countryside, inside that gate are our houses. We share pretty much everything – the chickens, the garden pond, the old shed...everything. Our houses are very close but they're both reasonably big so they spread out over a lot of land. Being the youngest child, I was put in the smallest bedroom, the window of which is directly opposite that of the only Potter child – which is the main reason the curtains are drawn whenever possible.

Trust me, when I say I have tried everything, I mean it. Up until the age of nine I spent my childhood begging various members of my family to swap rooms with me. Ron said no, because from his room you could look down into the valley and see all the girls in their skimpy outfits running errands. Please bear in mind that he was nine at the time – yes, disturbing, I know. Charlie and Bill had said I couldn't have that room because they needed space to 'store their things'. Fred and George had laughed in my face and as for Percy...well, let's just say I'd of had more results asking Harry himself. I'd even begged Lily and James to swap bedrooms with their little brat one particularly cold December morning when I was thirteen and had woken up to snowballs being hurtled through the newly-open window and at my head.

Part of me hated living next door to them; but another part of me adored it. I had another set of parents a few metres away that would never, ever let me down and acted just as loyal to me as my own.

"Hey Weasley." A familiar voice sang, and I turned around the see my godmother perched on the arm of the sofa.

"Hey, Lily. Your dog's looking for you."

"I don't have a – oh, Harry. Yeah; I saw him." She smirked as a look of understanding passed over her face.

"Poor you."

She laughed and nudged me. "Is he really that bad?"

I turned to face her; my eyebrows rose "You're incredibly ignorant."

She laughed "I've got something that will cheer you up."

I smiled "What's that then?"

"How does a little party sound? We've not had a family party for ages."

I laughed, a little bit of me somewhere feeling content that she still thought of us as family. "'Sounds great. What time?"

"Whenever James gets the bloody barbeque working. Do you know he's had it for three weeks and he's incapable of setting it alight? I've not pointed out that he's been missing the fluorescent orange 'on' button. It's really funny; you should come over and see." She laughed at her husband's expense and I couldn't help but join her.

"He's ignorant as well."

She smiled, nudging me again "See you later Gin."

And then she got up and wondered off out of the backdoor as if she lived here, which, I reminded myself, she might as well have.

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