The target was in sight.

"James, we're going to be late!" one of his friends said. He ignored him.

The target was coming closer. Closer… Closer…

"CHERRY!"

"Gah!" the book in her arms landed on the floor with a thud.

IT'S LOVE

---

"Argh! POTTER!" she shrieked, her short mousy brown hair bounced behind her as he casually walked up to her.

"Ah, Cherry! Fancy meeting you here." he greeted, his cheeky grin super-glued on his freckled face.

Cherry Dale, smart, beautiful, the Head Girl and one of the Muggleborn students of James Potter's batch, glared viciously at him. "Sod off, Potter." She snarled, picking up her book and dusting of the non-existent dirt. She huffed once again, before turning her heel and storming away in the other direction.

But to her series of unfortunate events, he caught up to her and lazily swung one of his heavy arms over her shoulder.

"I mean it, James!" she growled, elbowing his chest in hopes of hurting him. "Get lost!"

"Now, now, Ms. Dale. No need to get violent." He advised calmly, his smile not disappearing. "Not very good mannered in the mornings, are you?"

"Good manners? Ha!" she scoffed at him. "You wouldn't know good manners if it walked up to you and talked about Quidditch!"

If her retort insulted him, he didn't show it, but continued to smile coyly. "I happen to be a perfect gentlemen."

"Oh please. You're everything but a gentleman!" she said with such fierceness. "You're conceited, uncaring and think the whole world's yours! You love the idea of being worshipped by people who actually listen to your bragging and you think everyone loves you!"

"Newsflash: They don't! I don't! I hate people like you!" she spat.

Once again, James Potter seemed unaffected. As if he knew all her insults were empty—that deep down—"You don't hate me, Cherry. You're absolutely head over heals in love with me."

His face had gotten so close to hers, she could have counted all his freckles. His eyes were such a stunning shade of brown behind his rectangular-shaped glasses.

She found herself speechless and felt her face turn red and watched, with fear and horror, his smile grow a few notches, meaning he had gotten the reaction he wanted.

"Oh—oh, go away!" she cried, lamely, swatting his face hard with her book.

And she ran, as fast as she could, James' moans of pain echoing behind her. She didn't stop running until she locked the cubicle door, closed the seat of the toilet and sat.

She buried her face in her hands until she was sure all the red had gone. She sat there a while, not caring about being late for class, his words still floating in her head.

"You don't hate me, Cherry. You're absolutely head over heals in love with me."

- - -

James rubbed his face with one hand, the other holding the two solid pieces that were once his glasses. "Damn, that really hurt this time."

"James!"

He turned to see his cousin, with her red bushy hair standing out amongst the crowd. "Hey, Rosie. What's up?"

Just like him, she had the famous Weasley freckles, but her own brown eyes were a different shade, while his hair was more auburn than flaming red.

"Just going to the library." She said. "Oh, James! You're face! You're glasses! Here, let me."

Rose had gotten so good with nonverbal spells, he hardy noticed her repairing them. He was more interested with her lack of company. "Where's Albus and that Malfoy boy?"

"Who knows. Maybe Quidditch." She replied, examining his bruised face. "James, you'd better go to Madam Pomfrey. What happened, anyway?"

"Oh, you know… bullies…"

They both knew that was a downright lie. Rose didn't inherit her mother's brains for nothing. "No, you were bothering Cherry again, weren't you?" No reply.

"Oh, James, I'm sure you like her, but can't you see she not interested?"

James suddenly brightened. He recalled how she flushed when he pushed her buttons. How his accusation affected her so. Now he was sure she liked him.

"What can I say, Rosie?" he threw an over her shoulder, and pressed her free hand to his heart dramatically. "It's love!"

---

END