Hands flickered to ebony locks as soft as cashmere. The digits trailed the hair from root to tip, occasionally getting lost in the luscious strands which many girls craved to touch.

The young man sighed, his nerves quenched thanks to the comforting hair habit which was bequeathed to him in Second Year when he first tried out for Gryffindor's new Chaser position.

"Come on boys," Hooch had hollered tiredly. "New starts in this line – this line Mr Potter! There's no need for idiocy today!"

James, who had been sick to his stomach all morning and hadn't eaten for the first time in his life, looked at his teacher in embarrassment. Fourth years were smirking at the young boy from the other line, evidently thinking that he was no threat to them.

James had never felt so unsure of himself than at that moment – he wasn't used to being looked down upon or ridiculed, being both pampered as a child and very popular with peers.

"Hoi..... Potter!" A large fourth year hissed.

James turned round, his broom swinging dangerously towards other Second Years in line.

"Yeah," He coughed to hide the tremor in his voice. "What is it?" He asked smoothly.

"What's up with that rat's nest of yours?" Other fourth and some third years sniggered, some balancing on their brooms to keep from keeling over.

James hand leapt up to his hair in defence, self-consciously trying to smooth out its jagged points.

"Now, now" Said Hooch. "That's enough berating from you, Collins."

However, despite James's little episode with Collins, he went on to fly with incredible speed, dodge every opponent who got in his way, then score five amazing goals – one using his broomstick.

Afterwards, he landed, then, not his missing his opportunity, stalked up to an extremely pissed Collins.

"Well, looks like I made the team." He smirked. "Never mind, Collins, there's always next year..... again." Then he strutted of the pitch to tell the rest of the newly-formed Marauders of his success, never once looking back at Collins, who had to be held back from attacking him.

Three years on and James was still a superb Chaser for his house and still possessed his wayward black locks. Although now, no one teased him for it, infact is was what the ladies admired most about him. That and how his once scrawny, boyish figure had morphed into a scrumptious six-pack thanks to his athletic pursuits.

He swore that once Megan Creevy muffled a scream after he had stretched in Charms, his school shirt riding up to reveal his firm physique with tantalising tufts of hair paving the way down......

Yes, all of this and more was what James Potter had. But still, he could not get the one girl he adored to want him back. His money, his body meant nothing to her. His crudeness that she had mocked in their youth had altered to gentlemanly conduct – with no luck.

He was stumped.

As he was musing over his changes, the Portrait Door opened and in walked his fiery-haired temptress. She looked round, searching for something, and then spotted her Transfiguration book nestled on the couch.

James observed this, and, as she went to retrieve the book, he quickly swooped down to take it himself.

Her face, still looking at the couch looked up, stunned, then her eyes rolled as she discovered the literature thief.

"Potter," She said warningly. "You've got one second to give me that back, or I will make you pay."

James grinned, hiding the book behind his back.

"Hmmm, I'm afraid I won't."

Her eyes narrowed.

"Unless....." He trailed.

"Unless what?"

"Unless you tell me..... what the best part of my body is!"

".....What?"

"I've been debating with myself. There is nothing of mine that seems to attract you, nothing obvious, anyway. I need you to tell me what my most attractive feature is, so I can nurture it."

She looked at him quietly, as though he'd gone mad.

"There is nothing about you I like." She breathed.

James looked at her, inching closer.

"Yes there is..... come on, tell me."

"I.....no."

"Ha! There must be! You look so shifty."

She looked at him harshly, and then glanced at the clock. Eventually she conceded.

Breathing out a weary sigh, she walked forward a step.

"Close your eyes," She said.

"What?"

"Close. Your. Eyes."

Confused, James held onto the book tightly as he shut his eyes.

She walked over to him, until she was standing hesitantly in front of him

"Are you going to kiss me?"

She ignored him and after debating with herself, moved around to the right side of his face. She leaned in, smelling his aftershave, his own special scent, his shampoo. Lily closed her own eyes as her lip made contact his with his moonshine skin. Skin which she couldn't deny she had wanted for six months.

She ignored his tremble and quiet gasp, as she moved her lips to the base of his sideburns.

Tentatively, her tongue peeked out and she licked all of the hair there, then eventually, she took control and moved her tongue up until the hair ran out and morphed into his locks.

"That," She breathed, "Is what I love about you. Never get rid of them."

And she kissed his cheek, before taking her book and running shamefully to her next lesson.