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Seriously. People think being the middle child is bad! They should try being the youngest AND the only girl! It sucks like you wouldn't believe. My whole life I've been 'Cute Little Lily'. Once you reach the age of about sixteen, and you've moved past the point where you can still pretend you are kind of a little kid… it just makes you want to scream.

James was always the loud, funny child. Granted he was smart, but he was 'the bad one', always getting in trouble in school and then partying late at night and coming home wasted. More than once I had to endure listening to my parents scream at him, telling him to grow up, get a job, and move out. Yadda yadda yadda. It seems as though all James does is make mistakes and Mom and Dad can never let him or we other kids forget that he made a lot of mistakes. Because James is SUCH a screwup, my parents assume that I don't need to make my own mistakes, that I've already learned from James's. Which, by the way, so not true. I thought they were right, that I was better than James. I wasn't going to fuck anything up, but then I learned that I need to figure out who I am, too. And sometimes you need to make mistakes. Like getting piss drunk with your best friend and realizing that part of who you are is being in love with them… Not that I've done that… recently.

Albus was the really smart kid. Always got O's on everything. And I mean everything. If asswiping was a class he would have gotten an O. His intelligence was especially obvious after he came back from his first year, he gained this confidence that just made him the biggest jackass in the entire world. Never have I lived down the fact that I'm four years younger than him, so automatically I must not be as good as him. I don't get the logic, but he does. Mom and Dad thought he was Jesus until he moved to France for a while. Whenever he came home for a visit he acted like Mom and Dad were stupid and didn't understand politics. Um. Excuse me… but Dad is Harry Potter… of course he understands politics. He is politics. Because Albus is four years older than me, he was the smart kid first. This is a very important bit of information. Honestly, and I'm not bragging, it took me a long time to realize this, but I'm just as fucking smart as Albus if not smarter. But Albus was smart first, so by the time I came along as smart it was like… yea, what else is new? We already have one of those, can't you do anything else, Lily?

Not that my parents don't love me, but being the youngest comes with a lot of pressure to be amazing. And even when you are… it's like… it's not a big deal. For example, of my two brothers, I've always been closer to James. One day, in complete confidence mind you, I told him that I wanted to be a teacher. Not only did I want to be a teacher, but I wanted to open a … primary school let's call it, for young witches and wizards. A Pre-Hogwarts. He called me a shithead and said I was better than that. Then he went outback with Albus, and they had a burping contest.

That's ANOTHER thing. Big brothers are disgusting. Always farting and making the bathroom look disgusting. It's sickening. Honestly and Mom doesn't even care! It's like she thinks the slobs are endearing or something. Yet, if I burp quietly at the dinner table, it's like I'm a disgusting pig and should never wear a dress again because I don't deserve it. Do you know how hard it was not to grow up into a complete Tomboy with two brothers like the ones I have? Especially when my own mother is the youngest of seven and also the only girl! Well, Uncle Fred died… but that's, count 'em, five uncles. I'm surrounded by testosterone that just won't go away.

Speaking of testosterone. In my fifth year, I got asked out by a Ravenclaw. And I said yes, of course. He was totally hott! Well, I owled my mom to tell her awesome he was. Three hours later I got SIX Howlers. SIX. Not one, not even two. But six. Dad, James, Albus, Uncle Charlie, Grandpa Arthur, and my cousin Teddy all thought it would be… prudent to let me know their opinion of my new relationship. Let's just say when I received them by the Lake and the Ravenclaw kid heard them in the Library… well, it wasn't pretty. From then on out, boys stayed fairly far away from me.

Except one. My best friend. My best friend goes by the name of David Jordan, but I prefer to call him Davey... mostly cause it pisses him off. And partly because I want to rip off all his clothes…

So me and my best friend, David. We met on the train before our first year of Hogwarts. We'd seen each other at a couple of parties Grandma Molly threw for birthdays over the years, but we'd never talked. Anyway. We were happy to recognize someone a little familiar on the train. We sat together and talked the whole train ride. We both got sorted into Gryffindor, which made us very happy to know we would at least have one fried. I was the more outgoing one, talking to everyone at once, where David was slightly quieter. Boy, did I fix that. Now he won't shut up.

Dave quickly became like the rest of the men in my life. Constantly watching over me. He critiqued every single guy I ever looked. It took me three years to train him not to threaten to hex the balls off of any guy I looked at. I don't get it. Am I so helpless looking that all these guys have to stop me from being hurt? Maybe when I check out a cute guy playing Quidditch, I don't want a relationship. I just want to look at a cute guy. It doesn't mean he's automatically going to get me pregnant, dump me, and break my heart!

Dave and I stayed best friends our whole Hogwarts career. Which, I think, is why none of the lovely (note my sarcasm) men in my life hate his guts and man penis. We've always been best friends. Nothing more and nothing less. Dave's dad, Lee, spent a lot of time on the road as Dave got older and went to Hogwarts, so he spent more time at my house during the summer than his own. In the middle of our fourth year, his mother, Alicia, was shopping in Muggle London with her friend, Katie. Dave's mom got hit by a car. Lee contacted my dad who came and picked up me and Dave right away. She died that night.

Dave stopped talking to me for three whole months. Until the summer time when I told James how much it upset me. That night, my household got two letters. One was bright red and smoking: screaming at James for getting drunk punching a fifteen year old in the face. The other was one addressed to me, apologies from my best friend.

I guess of all the sucky brotherly things that James does, I was kind of happy about that one. I mean – it did get me my best friend back when I didn't know how to do that myself. I was so happy I even told Mom and Dad not to punish him, which believe me never ever happens. Ever. I didn't know until years later that Albus actually convinced him to do it. After getting him drunk in the first place. I guess I appreciate that too. Albus would be the mastermind and James would the aggressive one it whatever scheme those two set up.

After that, everything went basically back to normal for me and Dave. Until sixth year. Gryffindor had won the House Cup and Quidditch Cup. We had a huge party at the end of the year. At like ten o'clock when all the young ones went to bed. We broke out the Firewhiskey. Everyone got so smashed that none of us could remember anything. I hadn't had that much to drink, but… okay I'm a fucking lightweight, happy now? Dave, who doesn't believe in drinking because it was a drunk driver who hit his mom, decided that I should really stop drinking and go to bed. So he picked me up and carried me up to his bed so he could watch me in case I needed to puke. That's where my memory stops, but still it was flat out the sweetest thing any guy had ever done for me.

That's when it hit me. The vomiting. And the realization that I was in love with my best friend. I'm not sure which came first. It's kind of like that chicken and the egg thing. They sort of go hand in hand and no one is ever really supposed to know the truth. Anyway. I was smart enough this time NOT to tell James.

After our seventh year, Dave said his dad was taking him on a trip to Greece for a Graduation present. Dave asked me with those sparkling blue eyes if I would accompany them. One word. CHYEA! Three weeks spent in the beautiful country of Greece. It might have been the best three weeks of my life. Might have been. If I didn't like cake.

I happened to be celebrating my eighteenth birthday while we were in Greece. Dave's mom had been a Muggleborn, so Dave only knew how to bake a cake the Muggle way. Well, when I walked into the kitchen at eight thirty in the morning with a bedhead and a crooked shirt, I was not expecting to see Dave in all gorgeousness in an apron cracking eggs into a bowl. He told me his cake baking plans, and I wanted to help because I'm a stupid… thing! Anyway. He started mixing the cake with an electric mixer when an owl tapped at the window. He turned off the mixer and went to the window. I decided that I could be a Muggle, and I started to mix the cake again. Except, no one told me to leave the turny part INSIDE the bowl. So Dave, the owl, the cabinets, the floor, the ceiling, and me were all covered in chocolate batter.

Now, this was absolutely hilarious obviously. Dave just put down the letter and walked over to me real close and started laughing. I was laughing to. "Happy birthday to me." I choked out. He swiped his finger across my nose and ate the batter off his finger. I was still laughing, but suddenly I stopped. All I could look at was those damn blue eyes. And then those beautiful lips. And then his eyes again. And then… those chocolate smudged lips.

I kissed him. I'm a bloody idiot because I kissed my best friend, in pajamas, covered in batter, in Greece. What the hell is wrong with me?! When he didn't respond, I pulled back, with tears in my eyes. "I'm so sorry." I whispered. Pop. I was gone. Back into my kitchen my house. Scarring the jeepers out of my mom and dad who were GROSS making out, which did not make me feel any better. So I started sobbing ran upstairs and into the bathroom.

I refused to talk to Mom or Dad. How in the world do you explain that to your parents? So my parents brought over the army. The army you ask. Every single person I've talked to ever. Oldest to youngest. By the time they got to Teddy, I was so fed up with screaming at people to go away, I just refused to talk. That's when he jumped to conclusions and kicked the bathroom door open. I screamed. Like a girl. Which is good because I am a girl. He looked so worried about me that I started sobbing again. Okay so it wasn't because he was concerned, it was because currently his eyes were blue. It was depressing.

Teddy hugged me and finally I gave up and told him everything. Starting with the drunken night in sixth year when I had the whole vomit epiphany slash chicken egg thing. I don't think he really understood the chicken egg part because I was crying and rambling. Anyway. He gathered something out of the conversation. Dave equals boy who broke Lily's heart. Two words. Oh. Shit.

I saw the look in his eye, and I knew. I screamed for Mom before Teddy could move. I was yelling. "DON'T LET ANYONE LEAVE THIS HOUSE, MOM! DON'T DO IT!" She was thoroughly freaked out but agreed. We followed Teddy who was storming down the stairs. I heard the doorbell rang, but didn't hear my dad open the door. Suddenly, Teddy stopped, and I crashed into him on the bottom step. And then my mom into me.

"Lily, it's Dave." Dad called. I actually heard Teddy growl. Realizing that Dave must have done something horrible to me James and Al had their wands out in a flash. I was angry at that. It wasn't even Dave's fault! I'm the stupid idiot who kissed him! I moved towards the living room so I could turn around and yell at my stupid brothers at the same time. I opened my mouth to start my admonishing, but someone grabbed my arm and spun me around.

And that person's lips still tasted like chocolate.

"FINALLY!" screamed my dad. We pulled apart. I couldn't do anything but look from my dad to Dave and back again. "It's only been like six hundred years since everyone else realized you guys were perfect for each other!" My dad. He speaks so eloquently, doesn't he?

Dave just started laughing. He looked at me with those big blue eyes. "No. I'm sorry. I'm a complete and utter shit head. I was just so shocked because I've wanted to kiss you for a really long time… and… and… and I can so feel your brother's glaring at me right now."

"JAMES! ALBUS! MOM, do something!"

"She doesn't need to, Lil." James said.

"Dave," Albus started. "You know that we consider you family, and I just want you to know that I know how to cover up a murder. And just because you are family… doesn't mean I won't stop James from killing you."

Dave gulped and James cracked his knuckles. What a brute. "Kay." was all Dave could muster. I smirked. Maybe brothers and dads aren't so bad. My dad obviously knew what was good for me before I did. And my brothers were making sure that Dave knew that he was their buddy, but I was their sister. If I didn't have those two, who would Dave be afraid of? Besides me, of course.