things i'll never say ~ l.l.p.

one - beginnings

I was six years old the first time I met Mason Bones. My parents hosted a party to celebrate their fifteenth wedding anniversary, and they invited a lot of old school friends. Albus and James, hiding up in their room with no intent to socialize, had brought out a box of Bertie Botts', so I had fled downstairs to avoid being coerced into ingesting a nasty flavoured bean - I lived in horror of the ghastly things.

I was standing in the front hall clinging to my mother's skirt when a woman walked through the door with a little boy in tow. He was about my size, with dark hair, wide eyes, and a mischievous grin on his face. The mother apologized for his presence, explaining that she hadn't been able to find a sitter, but Mummy was all smiles and assured her that it was perfectly alright.

"Lily, this is Ms. Bones, a good friend of Dad and I's, and her son Mason."

I separated myself from the folds of the skirt I'd been hiding in and said a very quiet "Nice to meet you."

Ms. Bones beamed at me, and the boy murmured a hello.

"Would you like to show Mason into the kitchen, darling? There's a great deal of yummy things laid out in there." Mummy winked at us, then turned to say something else to Ms. Bones.

Mason's eyes had brightened at the mention of food. I smiled, beckoned him with an impatient gesture, and burst off to the kitchen. Glancing back only for a moment to make sure the boy was following, I launched myself through the door, almost running into my dad in the process.

"Slow down, Lil," Daddy said with a chuckle. "And who might this be?"

I saw that the subject of the question was the boy who had just caught up with me. "That's Mason," I said swiftly.

My father seemed to think for a moment, then a look of recognition came to his face. "You're Susan Bones' son, right?" Mason nodded. "Wonderful! I'm sure Lily will do a marvelous job showing you 'round. Keep out of trouble, now, you little munchkin!" He tousled my hair, making me giggle, and then exited the room.

On the island in the center of the room, there was a great variety of delicious-looking things, both sweet and salty. I climbed onto one of the stools we usually sat on for eating breakfast so that I could reach things, and motioned for Mason to do the same. He quickly grabbed a vanilla cupcake with buttercream frosting from a cluster of them, while I selected the largest brownie on an overflowing platter.

I frowned at his choice. "Vanilla's boring," I informed him, in a voice that rivalled my Aunt Hermione's for sounding like a know-it-all.

Mason shook his head, the smile he had worn when he first walked in still plastered on his face. "No, Vanilla is the best. Better than chocolate."

"Why?" I challenged.

"Because my mummy says so." The dark haired boy's grin turned smug, as if he had won.

I stuck out my lower lip in a pout - I didn't like being disagreed with. "Well, my daddy says chocolate is better, and Daddy knows best 'cause he works at the Min-stry."

"Mummy works at the Ministry too," Mason argued. "So your daddy isn't better."

"Well, my mummy used to play on a quidditch team, but now she doesn't because she says we're too much of a handful. What does your daddy do?"

For the first time since I'd met him, Mason stopped smiling. "I haven't got a daddy."

I squinted at him, confused. "Everybody has a daddy."

"I don't."

"But you must have one," I protested.

He shook his head. "I don't know why. But I don't. Just Mummy."

I was perplexed by this turn of events. Had I ever heard of someone not having a daddy? Well, my daddy didn't, but he was a grown-up and I knew he used to have one because there was a picture of his mummy and daddy hanging in the hallway.

I wanted to ask another question, but couldn't quite figure out how to say it, so I changed the subject. "Do you wanna go outside?"

Mason's eyes lit up. "Yeah."

I waved him towards the back door, which was open to let in the cool air of late spring, and he followed obediently, licking the frosting off the top of his cupcake as we went. I wolfed down the rest of my brownie before pushing open the screen door and leading him into the yard.

"Do you play football?" he asked, his mouth half-full of cupcake.

I shook my head. "We don't play Muggle sports much. Daddy watches football matches sometimes, but my brothers think it's boring."

"What do you do out here then?"

"We play in the treehouse."

Mason looked up at the trees, then frowned at me. "What treehouse?"

I didn't answer, just beckoned him towards the big tree at the very end of the yard. When we reached it, I spread out my palm and pressed it against the trunk, muttering the password under my breath. The glowing outline of an arch appeared, and the portion of the trunk inside it seemed to fade, leaving an open doorway into the hollow trunk.

I glanced back at Mason, whose eyes were impossibly wide, and beamed. "Mummy charmed it," I told him proudly. Then I ducked inside, assuming he would follow. There were magically powered fairy lights strung up to illuminate the ladder - Albus had fallen and broken his leg the previous summer, which made my parents realize climbing in the dark wasn't exactly the safest thing.

I was almost halfway up when I glanced down and saw that Mason was still standing at the bottom. "Well, come on!" I said impatiently.

He squinted up at me. "Is it safe?"

"Of course it's safe, silly. Daddy built it."

Mason still looked unsure, but nonetheless he began to follow me up. I continued my ascension, soon reaching the top and lifting the trapdoor to let myself into the treehouse proper. I slid over to let Mason in behind me, awaiting his reaction with a wide grin.

When he had closed the door behind him, my guest took one look around and his mouth fell open.

The place was rather impressive, especially on first encounter. A multitude of strings of lights, all different sizes and colors, cast a magical glow over the space we stood in. The sloped ceiling was over five meters high at the center, and the room was eight meters long and wide. To the left there was a low table with pillows of all shapes and sizes scattered around it, where my brothers would sometimes be at some game or another for hours into the night, and the shelf that held said games. On the right side of the room was a ratty sofa and two beanbag chairs, facing a television set that hung on the front wall. Both of the back corners held closed off rooms - one a closet where we kept extra clothes, and the other a loo. In the middle of the back wall was another ladder, which lead to the loft. Carpeted and filled with an ample supply of blankets and pillows, the loft was where we slept when we 'camped out' in the treehouse.

From the outside, you couldn't see the treehouse at all, because there was an invisibility charm on it. This was what had initially perplexed Mason when we were out in the yard. Now, he was in awe. "This is so cool!"

I nodded, then tilted my head at him. "You've got frosting on your face... just here." I pointed to the spot on my own face.

"Oh." Flushing, he wiped his hand across his face, but missed the place entirely. I laughed and stepped close to him, reaching out to swipe the sweet substance from the spot just above the left side of his lip.

"Thanks," he said, giving me a bashful smile. I continued to stare at him, and he frowned. "What, is there more?"

I shook my head. "No. I was just thinking... I think we could be good friends."

Mason's smile brightened even more. "Really?"

Suddenly I realized that we were standing very close to each other, and I took a step back from him.

"Yeah," I said slowly, "I really think we could."