A.N. This is in James' fifth year. Emily is also in fifth year. If I subconsciously used your idea, I'm sorry. Please forgive me and realize that I did not mean to but my head is confused. If I didn't use British sayings or whatever I'm sorry but I live in America. I've never been to Britian so I'm sorry. James is like I imagined him and I'm not sure if I am accurate according to the epilogue so sorry if you are offended. Here's the story. It's going to be at least three chapters and maybe more. I'm not really sure.
Disclaimer: I am not near amazing enough to be the spectacular JK Rowling who wrote the magnificent Harry Potter series and therefore owns it, not I.
I, James Sirius Potter, actually, truly like a girl. Shocking, right? Not really. The shocking part is that this is the first time that I actually like a girl. I have gone out with at least half of the girls in fifth year (like me) and more than a few in sixth year. What can I say? The chosen one is my dad, my mom is a famous quittich player on the Holyhead Harpies, and I inherited my parents combined skills in quittich. Long story short, I'm wanted. I have snogged so many girls that I cannot count but I still never felt something. Never in my life have been nervous for a date, that all changed before my date with Emily Montgomery. She has dark brown, silky smooth, stick straight hair, melted milk chocolate eyes that can see straight through your soul. She is about eight inches shorter than me which only makes her more amazing. When I first saw her on platform 9 ¾, I thought she was beautiful and I felt pulled to her. I forgot about it (by dating every girl in sight) for a little while but she was always there in the back of my mind. I never asked her out before for fear of rejection. I have never been afraid of a girl rejecting me before but she is different, she just is.
I met up with her in the common room. We were planning to go to Hogsmead and go to the three broomsticks. She wasn't one of those frilly Madame Rosemerta's girls'. I couldn't have been happier about this. As we started walking I looked at her. She was wearing a jumper with a very thin cloak. I could see her small frame shaking from the cold. I didn't know what to do but because I had a sweater on underneath and my cloak was thick. I did the only thing I could think of.
"Umm, you look cold Emily. Do you want to borrow my cloak? I have a fairly thick sweater."
"N-n-no-o-o T-t-tha-a-a-n-nks" She said her teeth clattering so loudly it was hard to hear her words. It was worse than I thought. I wasn't giving her a choice. I took off my cloak and wrapped it tenderly around her hunched up shoulders. She took a deep breath and gave me a smile.
"Thanks" she said sincerely.
I was trying to come up with something to say to her. I wasn't used to talking to girls I like. I decided to ask her about what I was so proud of. "What's your family like?" She looked ashamed and looked away. I was confused, "What?" I asked a bit insensitively. I instantly regretted it when I saw the shame that crossed her face. "It's okay. You don't have answer, it's okay, I'm sorry I asked." I cooed (wait cooed?) consolingly. She started to cry, great, I hit a nerve. I have no chance. I pulled her into a hug and rubbed her hair. She looked up with a red puffy rim around her eyes. She face looked like a mask of embarrassment mixed with anger mixed with regret mixed with emotional pain. The amount of pain I saw was something that represents a stronger version of what Uncle George looks like on the anniversary of the second war. I felt so bad. What did I do? This girl did not deserve this.
"James, I need to tell you something. Can we go somewhere more private?" She asked. Eager to find out the secret of Emily I quickly figured something out.
"Umm, I have an idea, follow me."
I took her to the shrinking shack and we went through the tunnels connecting the school to the shrinking shack. We sat facing each other in the small tunnel. She took a deep breath before silent tears covered her face. I reached out and rubbed her back. She muttered words of thanks before taking another deep breath. Then, she began her story.
A.N. Please PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW! I cannot possibly make it better without reviews. Even if you hate it please tell me with some constructive critism.