Full Summary: Their story was incredibly cliche. The studious, sarcastic Abigail King is teamed up with the arrogant, trouble-making James Sirius Potter, who has always been her enemy, to be Head Boy and Girl of Hogwarts. But neither is happy. James is constantly fighting the image of his heroic parents, while Abigail struggles with the painful reality of her family's situation and past. The more time James and Abigail spend together, the harder they have to try to hate each other. They can't quite understand why they seem to know the other more than anyone, helping each other through the rough times they face. But in the end, it's really quite simple. Hate can turn into love easily, and James and Abigail are about to understand this twisted logic.

Disclaimer: The characters of Harry Potter are owned by J.K. Rowling. The content and ideas of this story are owned by peace. love. randomness - peacelovebooksx107 and randomrayyxx3 respectively. The song "After We Have Left Our Homes" is belongs to the band Mutemath.

Chapter One: After We Have Left Our Homes

"When can we start over?

Abigail Evelyn King

School robes? Check. Other clothes for free time and Hogsmeade trips? Check. Toiletries? Check. School books? Check. Photograph with the seeker from the Holyhead Harpies? Check.

What am I missing?

I had been at it for hours, going over and over my mental list of things I had to bring to Hogwarts. It was almost midnight., and I had to be ready to leave the next morning by 9 o'clock. It was an hour flight by car to King's Cross station, and the Hogwarts Express left at 11 o'clock. I had to leave time to meet up with Dominique, Molly, and Morgan so we could get a compartment together, and also had to have enough time to get through a tearful goodbye with my Uncle Matt.

As much as I'd miss him, I always felt a weight being lifted off my shoulders after I left home. I loved being home with my Uncle Matt over holiday. I loved him to pieces. He'd always been there for me… He's the only family I have. But as much as I would miss him, leaving home for school has never been an issue with me. Being home meant being constantly reminded that I was living a lie, pretending I lived with my father, pretending my family was normal. It's not as if Uncle Matt and I really talked about it, but it spoke in the silence of the house. He would always be my father figure, but he would never be my father. And he'd never be my mother either. He's not sensitive enough to even hold that role… or feminine enough.

Have you ever played that game where someone says a word or phrase to you, and you have to say the first thing that comes to mind? If someone was playing that game with me and they said, "Leaving home", then I would say "Leaving Hogwarts." Because to me, Hogwarts is my home. There, I have Molly. I have Dom. I have Morgan. I have my studies.

The sun through my window made something on my desk glitter gold, breaking me from my thoughts. I jumped up from my bed, grabbing the object that had shined in the light. My Head Girl badge. I smiled to myself, still feeling proud I had the honor of holding the badge in my hand.

I heard a knock on my door, and jumped at the sound. I had thought I was the only one awake.


My Uncle Matt stepped into view. He was tall, so tall he had to stoop down in the doorway, and had incredibly dark, short hair, and stubble surrounding his defined jaw and full lips. If you saw my uncle and I out and about, you would have never guessed we were related. Opposing to his looks, I was short, around five foot, one inch, with incredibly long red hair. Past my long fringe was two, stormy grey eyes, the only trait that my uncle and I shared.

"I know how much you love school and how you're probably feeling like a little girl on Christmas Eve, but could you maybe try to get some sleep tonight? " I looked up at my uncle guiltily while he spoke. "Besides…you don't want to scare off all those school boys if you don't get enough of your beauty sleep."

"You're hysterical," I deadpanned. Chuckling, I through the nearest pillow at him, and he caught it skillfully. Years of playing Quidditch really paid off when it came to his reflexes.

My uncle chuckled, stepping forward to kiss my forehead before walking towards my door. When he reached it he turned pointing a finger at me and saying "Sleep," in what he may have hoped was a threatening tone, but his lopsided smile ruined it. He turned around and left, closing the door behind him.

I smiled at the space he had left. Even though I was thrilled to go back to school, I would miss the constant reminder of how cool my uncle was.

James Sirius Potter

Brown eyes stared back at me. They shone with many emotions. Worry. Excitement. Expectation. Pride.

My eyes flittered from my own in the mirror down to the front of my shirt. I had clipped on my Head Boy badge. You know, just to make sure it worked… or something. The truth was, I was so proud to be able to wear that badge, just like my grandfather had. I was excited to take the responsibility of Head Boy, and I would be ready the second I stepped onto the Hogwarts Express.

However, thinking of school, my heart dropped into my stomach. Of course I was excited to spend almost every waking hour with my cousin Fred, and even more excited to be with my friends, giving our teachers hell… but I was not excited to face the stereotypes that had been pegged on me since my first year at Hogwarts. I was, and always would be, the son of Ginny Weasley, known member of Dumbledore's Army and former player of the Holyhead Harpies, and, of course, Harry Potter, the Chosen One who defeated Voldemort. I hated being compared to my parents. I will always think it is amazing that my parents did so much during the war, that my dad was the one who caused the Dark Lord to fall, but I did hate the comments from students at school.

I felt a hand clasp on my shoulder and looked up in the mirror to see my dad next to me. My dad and I looked incredibly alike. We had the same black, unruly hair that my Grandpa also had, and the same tall and lanky yet muscular structure. Our eyes were different, however. Dad has emerald green eyes and I have my mum's eyes… the muddy brown Weasley eyes. My dad shares that with me also…that he looked like his dad, but with his mother's eyes.

"You're up late, James. All packed?" my father questioned me. When I nodded, he cracked a smile and said, "Good. But, you know that your mum will be making sure you packed everything you need from now until the second you walk on that train tomorrow."

I chuckled and replied, "I know, Dad. I've been getting this speech since I was eleven, remember?"

Dad smiled at me fondly and said, "Yeah, I know. I can't believe you're already soon to be eighteen, heading off to your final year of Hogwarts." I rolled my eyes at this, but smiled all the same. "James," my dad started seriously, "I just want you to know how proud I am of you. Being Head Boy… well with all the pranking you've done the past six years of your life and I can't say any of us expected it…" We both laughed at this. "But I am incredibly proud of you."

Smiling almost awkwardly, I said, "Thanks, Dad. It means a lot." And it did. My dad and I have always had a very close relationship, and hearing how proud he was of me out loud gave me more strength. Strength to face comparisons to my parents. Face the stereotype of me having the perfect life. Face whatever hardships I might encounter this year. Whatever happened, I wouldn't let my dad or myself down.

Abigail Evelyn King

"OI! WEASLEY!" I shouted. I knew, however, how many Weasleys there were and thoroughly enjoyed seeing at least eight heads turn my way. I was really trying to get the attention of two of my best friends, Dominique and Molly. I had just finished saying goodbye to Uncle Matt. I heard the typical "I can't believe you're so grown up," and, "I'm so proud of you." I think he teared up a little bit, but he has for the past six years that he has said goodbye to me on the platform.

"ABIGAIL KING! OVER HERE YOU DOLT!" I looked to my right, where the almost embarrassingly loud exclamation came from, and saw Molly and Dom waving to me, laughing at the scene they had made. Smiling to them and chuckling under my breath, I weaved through the crowd of young wizards and witches saying goodbye to their mums and dads. Even after the years, seeing mothers hug their daughters, dads telling their daughters to stay away from boys, still made me a little sad. I tried to ignore the pang in my chest while I walked over to the Weasleys.

Dom and Molly were waiting for me on a bench, Bill and Percy standing near a bench, having their own conversation about their work. I had called Molly and Dom's parents by their first names since first year. It got too confusing with there being too many Mr. Weasley's around, so the families both agreed first names were the best choice for their children's friends. I saw Louis, Dom's younger brother, talking to Lucy, Molly's younger sister. They have always been pretty good friends, despite the fact that Lucy, a fifth year, was a year older than Louis. Fleur and Audrey, the mothers, were discussing how they couldn't believe how fast everyone was growing up. It was a typical scene here at Platform 9 ¾.

Suddenly, I was tackled by a giant hug. "Abigail! I missed you so much!" I recognized the voice of Dominique Weasley.

I pulled back from the hug to look at my best friend. Yup. Still the same tall, curvy girl with choppy, short, platinum blonde hair – gorgeous as ever. The only difference in her appearance was the hot pink highlights she must have put in her hair over the summer.

Taking a pink strand in my hand, I gave her a questioning look and said, "I thought you hated pink…?"

"Not in my hair, I don't! Plus, this isn't pink. It's hot pink. Get it right, woman! I'm thinking it's a total boy magnet, don't you think?" I laughed. Yep. Still the same old Dominique. She's always been a bit of a handful. Loud. Witty. Overly obsessed with boys. But I love her to death. Though it would always be the four of us – me, Dom, Molly, and Morgan – Dom and I have always had a special bond.

"Missed you too, Dom," I told her and gave her another squeeze.

"Dominiqueeee," I heard someone whine, "Stop hogging Abigail!"

I turned around to see Molly Weasley wearing her trademark smirk. It described her perfectly. Nothing like her father Percy, Molly was the epitome of a trouble maker. Maybe it was the fact that it was against her father's wishes for her to get in trouble, but whatever it was, Molly seemed to inherit her Uncle George's prankster side rather than her father's studious side.

Molly flipped her long, straight red hair over her shoulder and said, "Get over here and give me a hug, King, before I hex you into oblivion." We both smiled and I complied. I had missed her craziness over the summer.

"How was your summer?" I asked as I pulled back from the hug. "Get into any trouble?"

"Oh, you know," Molly said, smirking secretively. "The usual."

I laughed. "I don't think I want to know…" and she just smirked in return.

"Well," Dominique said, "my summer was awesome." She started telling us her escapades in France visiting her grandparents (and her encounters with French boys) when a rather loud bicker fest drowned her out.

"Well, Morgan, dear, I just cannot fathom how you can keep denying how much you missed me over the summer! Especially when you know how much it breaks my heart!" Molly and Dom's cousin, Fred Weasley, was chasing after the final girl in our quartet, Morgan Finnegan, who was walking as fast as she could with her luggage cart. Morgan's long, black, incredibly curly hair (from her father's Irish looks) bounced as she was chased by the tall, lanky, dark skinned lad whom she hated so much. "Don't tell me this year is going to be another year full of denial of your love for me."

Molly, Dom, and I couldn't help but giggle. Fred and Morgan had been fighting ever since the moment they met first year. Fred is convinced Morgan loves him, or just likes to tease her, and Morgan hates the plain sight of him. Their bickering never seems to end.

Coming to a stop once she reached us, Morgan released her luggage cart and reached for a rather fierce group hug from us. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you guys," she told us as she released us and shot a look at Fred, who was walking past us towards Mitchell Wood and his folks.

We were all ready to reply when Molly and Dom's grandmother, who even I called Grandma Molly, came up to us. "Oh, come along dears, others are beginning to board the train!" Giving us all motherly kisses on our foreheads, she told us to behave and have a good year before seeking out her many other grandchildren. Molly and Dom said a last goodbye to their parents and then the four of us boarded the train. Despite Morgan's protests, Dom, being very close with her cousin, pulled us all into Fred Weasley's compartment and went to go sit next to him. Being the last to enter, I turned around and closed the door behind me, but saw a hand get caught before it could close and I heard a muffled, "Ow!"

Opening the door, apologies already leaving my mouth, I looked up to see James Potter cradling his hurt hand in his other. The next "Oh, I'm so sorry!" never came out, and instead I stared at Potter and said, "Oh, it's just you," before turning around and sitting beside Molly, Mitchell, and Ryan.

Scoffing, Potter went to sit beside Morgan, who had Fred on her other side. The moment Potter plopped down, Fred and Morgan started bickering with no mercy. Already getting bored with their newest spat, I lifted my legs up across the compartment and jammed them in between Morgan and Potter, kicking him in the process. He instantly scooted closer to my legs, making it as uncomfortable for me as possible.

"What the hell, Potter?" I exclaimed.

"What the hell you, Your Highness?" I ignored his unoriginal crack at my surname, King. "Why exactly do you have to put your feet here?"

"Well if you must know, my poor feet are aching," I snapped, "and your seat was the most convenient place to rest them."

"Can't you put them somewhere else?" he complained.

I gestured to the rest of the compartment. "Obviously not."

There were a total of eight people in our compartment; plainly, my best friends and Potter's best friends. I was, of course, attached to the hip with Dom, Molly, and Morgan (if I had that many hips). Potter's mess of misfits consisted of Fred Weasley, heinous provoker of one of my best friends; Ryan Thomas, dangerously tall smooth talker with chocolate skin; and Mitch Wood, the more reserved and least offending of all Potters friends. But don't get me wrong, I love them all. They seemed to share all the appealing qualities that Potter lacked.

Simply put, Potter and I have never gotten along.

"So," I continued, "why don't you scoot your arse over so we can both be comfortable?

"I'll scoot over if you don't kick me anymore!" he seethed.


"Fine." He crossed his arms over his chest.

"Fine." I crossed my legs in contempt.

I took the opportunity of glaring at him to study him a little. He had grown a couple inches since the last school year and was at least a foot taller than me now. I could plainly see the muscles in his arms tense when he crossed them over his chest. He moved them momentarily to run one of his hands through his hair. That had always bothered me before. Now I just kind of stared at his hands.

"Abigail! HEY! Aren't you listening?" I heard Dom say.

I snapped out of it. "What? Yeah, of course."

"So why don't you show everyone?" she asked sneakily. It was just like Dom to put the attention on me.

"What is it, Abigail?" Mitch asked, shaking his light brown hair out of his eyes.

"Yeah," Ryan chuckled, "don't kill us with the suspense."

I smiled and sighed in resignation, reaching down into my bag. Slowly, I pulled out my Head Girl badge, showing it off in all its glory. I instantly received congratulations from most of my friends. However, I noticed that Fred was chuckling darkly and Potter had gotten an oddly blank look on his face.

I dropped my badge in my lap and warily said, "What is it, Fred?"

Instead of answering, Fred simply said, "James?"

Potter slowly but surely put his hand in his pocket and produced a small glittering badge of his own.

"You must be joking."

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