A/N: I AM SO SORRY. I don't really have an excuse this time, just simple writers' block. Anything I whipped up was just too terrible to post, which was what happened with the previous chapter. That said, for those of you who have been with me through all this, THANK YOU, and also, PLEASE RE-READ THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER. IT HAS BEEN EDITED MAJORLY. Many bits will be the same but most of it has been redone and there are several new parts that need to be read!

As usual, a thousand thank you's to all of my reviewers, especially Anonymous4Ever, whose reviews really got my behind back in gear, there. THANK YOU! You're the loveliest. Hope you enjoy!

"Bet you can't hit the weather vane on the old colonel's house!" Tommy called, pointing.

"Five sickles say I can!"

"You're on, baby sister. You should know better than to bet against the professionals, though!"

Susan balanced on her broomstick, leaning forward, gauging the distance to the house down the lane. The old colonel's brass, duck-shaped weather vane spun lazily on the changing breeze, another factor Susan paused to consider before she threw the ball. The old family Quaffle felt solid in her hand, the beaten, leathery surface reassuring as it had been for the years they'd had it. Exhaling slowly, she whipped her arm around, launching the ball over roofs and lawns. The Quaffle bounced once against the shingles of the colonel's roof before it tapped the brass duck's tail feathers, falling down the far side of the house.

"Ricochet! Didn't count!" cried Tommy.

"Objection!" Susan protested. "You never said it had to be the first-"

There came a loud crash and a mechanical sputtering from the far side of the targeted house, where the ball must have landed. Shouts echoed over the neighborhood to where Susan and Tommy sat on their broomsticks. The siblings looked at each other before racing through the air to the source of the commotion.

Turning the sharp corner around their neighbors' house, Susan and Tommy came skidding to the ground, neither spotting what anyone would call an ideal landing. Upon seeing who had been shouting, Susan nearly wheeled around for home, but in an instant's thought decided to stick things out. If she wanted to change everything about her life, she couldn't rightly leave her social interactions by the wayside. And if she could interact competently with James Potter and Sirius Black, she could interact with anyone.

Both Potter and Black were scrambling around what looked to be the remains of an ancient motorbike, crying out about dents and scratches from the Quaffle knocking it over. Black stopped short.

"Susan!" he exclaimed, suddenly unsure of himself. Before Susan could wonder what was troubling him, Potter elbowed him in the side, bringing him back to his senses. "And friend! I don't think we've met. Have we?"

"Tommy Ponds, pleasure to meet you," Tommy said, extending a hand.

Sirius stared blankly for a moment at Tommy's outstretched hand. "Hold on a tick; are you that Tommy Ponds? Chaser for Puddlemere?"

"Yeah, didn't I tell you? Our Turtle here is his baby sister," Potter commented.

"…Turtle?" Tommy interjected, but he went unheard as Black turned on his friend.

"His sister? His sister? All this time, you never thought once that it might be slightly important to tell me that Tommy Ponds is… is your neighbor?"

"Well they have the same last name," Potter defended himself.

Black sighed. "Honor to meet you, then," he said to Tommy. To Potter, he growled: "Later. Right now, my bike needs fixing." He set himself back to examining the damage. "Aw, Merlin, you dinged it!"

"Su threw it!" Tommy teased, giving Susan a light shove.

"See, it's dented!" Black cried, pulling one of the pipes clean off to show to Susan. "Here, and here…"

"Are you sure the dents are really your problem, at this point?" Susan countered, eyeing the unbelievably thick layers of rust coating nearly every part.

"It's the principle of the thing, see," Black replied. "I'm trying to fix her up right, any further damage is just insult to injury. Or more accurately, injury as insult to injury."

"Why is it here, though?" Tommy asked, gesturing to the large alley where they now stood. The only other occupants of the area were the neighbors' rubbish bins and a spare hose. The Potters' house was another few blocks away, into the nicer part of the neighborhood, farther from the center of the village.

"The Widow McGrady said we could have it, if we moved it out of her shed," James said, pointing at the little outbuilding standing on the lawn behind. "She heard Sirius whinging about wanting one and offered it to him, just like a sweet old lady is wont to do when there's a strapping young lad about." He laughed as Susan rolled her eyes.

"Do you even know what you're doing?" Susan asked.

"How hard could it be?" Black replied.

"Forgive me if I'm a little… skeptical of your skills in Muggle mechanics," Susan said, raising her eyebrows.

"Well, you know," Black said, with a look that on any other person might have been called embarrassment. "Learning by doing."

"Well, you'll never get it done with those," Tommy said, gesturing to the meager pile of tools the two had apparently been working with. "Our dad's got a huge toolbox you two are welcome to avail yourselves of, if you like."

Susan suppressed a groan at the thought of Potter and Black cavorting around her garage. "You'll have to get all the rust off before you can do anything, anyway," she said. "Steel wool might do the trick, if you've got the patience."

"Wait, do you two know how to fix things?" Potter asked, looking hopeful.

"Absolutely," Tommy replied.

"Not really," said Susan.

Black got up from his place next to the bike and stood next to Susan. "So, er… What's steel wool?"

Suddenly, a tremor passed through the air, and every witch and wizard in the vicinity thought they may have heard someone whistling off to their left, as if trying to get their attention. "What was that?" asked Sirius, watching the other three scramble to hide their wands and other magical paraphernalia.

"The Whistle," Susan whispered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"The what?"

"The Whistle," James answered. "The signal in the magical part of town that a Muggle's wandered in. It happens every once in a while. You should get used to it!"

"Act natural. Act non-magical," Tommy hissed, leaning against the wall behind him. James grabbed a wrench and began to study it, looking a little ridiculous. Sirius, next to Susan, looked around in a panic for something to hold on to, and decided that Susan was as good as anything. He threw an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side.

"What are you doing?" she hissed in his ear.

"Acting natural," he said.

"This is hardly natural," she mumbled, resigning herself to her fate. She caught Tommy giving her a stupid grin and glared when he winked at her.

They held their (slightly awkward) poses as an elderly couple tottered by. "Afternoon!" Tommy called, but the couple hardly seemed to mind him. They seemed entirely caught up in each other's presence- Susan couldn't help but smile at them. When she looked away, she caught Black staring at her oddly. "What?" she asked.

"You… er-" he began, before leaning in slightly, sniffing at her hair. Susan froze and looked straight ahead, trying very hard not to feel anything at all, not even things like how warm he was and how it seemed as if someone had dropped a Fizzing Whizzbee down her spine. "You smell like vanilla."

"Sorry?" She snapped out of her trance.

"You smell like… a very particular vanilla," he said, a strange look on his face.

"Oh, well, it's the soap I use, I guess," she explained. "Vanilla cake or something like that."

James looked up at them, an expression of unadulterated glee on his face. "Vanilla cake, you say?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Wherever did you get it?" Potter asked, a massive grin on his face.

"I found it… but whoever had it before clearly didn't want it anymore. She left a note."

"You hear that, Padfoot? She left a note!"

Sirius Black wore a look of abject horror. Susan couldn't for the life of her figure out why the mention of her soap would distress him so. Perhaps it had belonged to one of his various lady-friends? That might explain the blush quickly spreading across the poor boy's face.

"Ahem… anyway," Tommy coughed, catching the attention of the other three. "I don't think Widow McGrady meant for you to move the bike out of her shed only to move it into her alleyway, so would you prefer to keep it at your house, or at ours?"

"Why in Merlin's name would they keep it at our house?" Susan cried.

"Because that's where the tools are," Tommy drawled, as if she were silly for not thinking of that.

"They can take them to their house, just as easily," Susan countered.

"Yes, but would Dad really want all of his tools to be sitting a mile away for the entire summer? I think he'd want them closer."

If Susan didn't know better, she'd have thought that her brother was trying to ruin her summer. The idiotic grin on his face certainly suggested as much. What was he smiling about, anyway? Now that she noticed it, Susan realized that Potter had the exact same look on his face. Wondering if she was missing something (perhaps she had sauce on her face?), she turned to Black, only to realize that his arm was still around her shoulders. He met her eyes and they both jumped, scrambling to opposite sides of the alley. Potter broke into laughter next to them.

Two days later, Susan and Roberta sat in a corner booth at a restaurant in town, munching on chips, having just left the latest showing of Star Wars at the local cinema. "That was so amazing!" Roberta gushed. "Are there very many of those? Do you see them all the time? I would see them all the time. I would never stop."

"In the summer, I see films fairly often," Susan said with a smile. "But there's not really a cinema anywhere in Hogsmeade. It's more of a Muggle thing, obviously."

"Oh, can you imagine that?" Roberta said, a dreamy look in her eye. "That was a lot like magic, I think."

"In a way."

"I had no idea Muggle technology was so… wow!" Roberta paused to swallow her food before continuing. "Are light sabers terribly expensive?"

"What?"

"I just figure that they are. Because you don't see them around much. Not that I'm in Muggle areas much anyway. But are they?"

Susan spent the next few minutes explaining the concept of science fiction to her friend. "… so a lot of these take place on other planets. Honestly, these past few days, I wished I was on another planet."

"Why so?" Roberta asked.

"Black and Potter have taken up residence in my garage," Susan lamented.

"What?!"

"My idiot brother's idea- they're fixing up an old motorbike and he offered them our space to do it. All day, practically all night, they're there, making noise but not progress, of course, and constantly needing to ask questions, 'Susan, what's this do?' 'Susan, this broke,' 'Susan, how do Muggles do anything?'"

"All valid questions. If you ask me."

"That's just it, they're always asking me! Tommy, of course, took off for London as soon as the two set up shop!"

"Wait, he's in London now?" Roberta asked, looking disappointed.

"Yes, so you can stop mooning over him now, please!" Susan said with a light slap to her friend's shoulder. "Is there an opposite to love potion that I can buy somewhere? Because I think you need it."

"Har-har, Susie Q. Surely you're used to this. Your brother being…Tommy Ponds… and all."

"Not from my best friend, I'm not! You're so embarrassing!"

"Wouldn't that be grand, though?"

"What?"

"If I married Tommy. I'd be your sister! It'd be grand."

Susan mimicked vomiting. "Spare me, I beg you," she wailed, drawing a bit of attention from the surrounding booths. Noticing the stares, she giggled a bit. "But really though. That's disgusting."

"Disgusting? Hardly! We'd have a June wedding. Lots of pale green and pink. Or peach. And two kids, one boy, one girl. We could name the girl after you!"

Susan looked horrified. "Absolutely not!"

Roberta laughed. "Can't blame me for dreaming!"

"Oh, yes I can. Have you forgotten this is my brother we're talking about? The one who convinced me to eat mud no fewer than four times throughout my childhood? The one who would chase me around the house with his own snot on his finger? You can't seriously tell me you'd ever marry that."

"All of this is only making him more adorable to me, you understand."

"Ugh!" Susan threw up her hands. "Check!"

The next day, Susan slept late, finally rolling out of bed around noon. Still in her pajamas, she wandered downstairs, where she could hear someone (likely her mother) moving around the kitchen. As she entered the room, she froze mid-yawn. It was not her mother.

"Oh, er- hi," said Sirius.

"You're in my house," Susan said blankly.

"Er, yes."

"You're in my kitchen."

"Your mum let me in… she's at the corner store…"

Susan briefly wondered if she should care that Sirius Black had now seen her in her night clothes with her hair every-which-way and likely a trail of drool down her chin, but decided that she really didn't care at all.

He, on the other hand, definitely seemed awkward, which was odd, since he had never come across as the kind of person who could be thrown by any sort of social situation. He stood there, his eyes wide, not really moving, kind of stuck. Susan, mercifully, was still too tired to really care much what he thought, so she walked over and pushed him aside to reach the refrigerator.

"Orange juice?" she asked, grabbing a carton from the top shelf.

"What?" asked Sirius, bewildered.

"Orange juice," Susan repeated. "You're sweaty."

"Yes, well it is hot outside, and some of us have been working in the sun since it rose, you know," Black retorted, seeming to regain his composure.

Susan smiled to herself. What had gotten into her? It all seemed so unlike her- she hadn't even stuttered once. It was odd, but she liked it, and thought that if she tried to figure it out she might ruin it. "Water, then?"

"With ice. Please."

Susan got two glasses out of a nearby cupboard and filled one with juice and the other with water from the tap. "If you wanted water, couldn't you have just conjured some for yourself?"

"Have you ever actually drank water from an augamenti spell?"

"I can't say that I have, no."

"Well, it's terrible unless you're absolutely desperate. Very lukewarm, at best."

"Do you have your wand with you?"

"Yes, why?"

"Mine's upstairs. I'm sure conjured ice isn't lukewarm?" she said, holding out the glass of water.

"No," Sirius said, taking the glass.

Susan continued to move about the kitchen, vaguely aware that Black was watching her. She was surprised to find that she didn't mind him, really. There was nothing remotely embarrassing about cereal and juice, after all.

That is, unless you drop the bowl.

"Oh, blast-ended skrewt," Susan said, dismayed. Milk pooled on the floor, with bits of cereal rolling around the fallen bowl. She reached for a rag and knelt, only for Black to grab her arm.

"I've got it," he said.

"Don't be silly, it's my mess," Susan retorted.

"Susan," he said, pulling her back up from the floor. "I've really got it." With a quick flick of his wand, the floor was spotless- probably cleaner than it had been in the first place. "Magic," he said, with a twirl of the wand. "It's pretty useful."

"That doesn't mean I'm going to let it make me lazy," Susan replied.

"Don't you think doing things manually that could be done with a quick charm is wasting time?"

"Shush, you."

"And not even a thank you," he said with a smirk. "I'm appalled, Ponds. Being related to celebrity has ruined your manners."

"Oh please," Susan said. After a pause: "Thank you."

"Wow, it sounds like you really mean it, too!"

"Get out of my kitchen!" Susan exclaimed, shoving him towards the door, cracking a smile against her better judgment.

"I'm hurt, Ponds, I really am," Sirius said, leaning back against her pushing hands. In response, Susan simply stepped to the side, letting him fall backwards onto the floor.

"Serves you right," she said smugly. With that, she opened the door to the garage for him and escaped to her room, still in shock at herself and wondering what in Merlin's name had gotten into her.