James Potter had problems. A lot of them.
He talked too much, he laughed too loudly, he was always late, he never wore his uniform properly, he was much too self-assured, he swore in every other sentence, he had a smoking problem, he got smashed much more than someone at the age of sixteen should've –more than anyone should've, really. He did stupid, dangerous, impulsive things, he preferred to solve things with his fists rather than his words, he never knew where to draw the line, never followed the rules, had quite the smart mouth and a raging temper which often resulted in the aforementioned conflicts with fists.
So, in short, James Potter was far from perfect. Yet, this was the image he was always given. Perfect James, with his perfect grades, perfect messy hair, perfect charm, perfect smile, perfect Quidditch playing, perfect attitude and perfect amount of discipline (or lack thereof.)
Yeah, right.
James did not consider himself to have half of these things. Sure, he was terribly over-confident when it came to his looks and his attitude with girls, but other than that, he wasn't particularly self-assured about anything else. It may have seemed as though he was, but it was mostly a show that he liked to put on. Being the only child of elderly parents, he was rather used to calling a lot of attention to himself. This, of course, was another one of the problems he had.
It was the previously mentioned list of faults that resulted in him being where he was now, heading to detention. His impulses had led to him drinking heavily before class, after finding out his parents were in St. Mungo's again due to their poor states of health, and therefore showing up to class off his face. Now, maybe it would not had been noticed were in not for his other qualities, such as talking too much, laughing too loudly, swearing too often and having a smart mouth. But unfortunately, he did have these qualities, and with the help of them, Horace Slughorn, his Potions professor did indeed detect the drunken boy, rambling, cursing, sniggering and hiccoughing at his seat. And James' smart mouth caused him to answer, when asked of his behaviour, 'What does it look like, Sluggy? Well shit-faced, I am,'
As one can imagine, Professor Slughorn had not taken to this answer very well.
So now, after having been given a sobering draught and completing the day's classes, James was walking to his first detention of the month of punishment he was receiving for his behaviour. He was bloody pissed about it too, but he consoled himself by remembering the fact that at least Quidditch season hadn't started. What a way that would be to start my term as Captain, he thought. Not being able to attend his own practices because he was in detention.
He shook his head and opened the door of the Trophy Room, where he was told to come that night for his punishment. He expected to find McGonagall there, a thin scowl on her face as she expressed her disappointment in him. But who he saw in front of him made his eyes widen to the size of saucers.
Lily Evans.
Prefect, non-troublemaker, good girl Lily Evans.
"What the bloody hell are you doing here, Evans?" James blurted out almost immediately. There went his overactive mouth again.
Behind him, a voice said, "Miss Evans is here because she, like you, has not followed Hogwarts rules and must learn the consequences of that." James turned to see Minerva McGonagall, his Transfiguration teacher and Head of Gryffindor house. She looked disapprovingly at James's unkempt uniform, but did not comment on it. He supposed she grew aware that he was past the point of improving his standard of dress. "Now, I expect every trophy in this room to be properly polished, no magic. If you do not complete this task, then you will have an extra night added to your punishment. And yes, Mr. Potter, I do mean an extra night along with your month-long detentions. Get to work." With those words, she took her leave.
As soon as the door shut, James turned back to Evans. "So really, Evans, how the bloody hell did you, the epitome of good behaviour, end up in detention with me tonight?"
"None of your business, Potter," grumbled Evans, reaching for a rag and the polish. She picked up the nearest award and began to rub it rather forcefully.
"Someone's a little touchy," mumbled James, rumpling his hair and grabbing another award as well as a rag. He hummed under his breath as he shined the trophy, which funnily enough, was one of his dad's. He noticed that Evans' mood seemed to worsen as he hummed, and amused by this, James hummed louder. Evans threw him a dirty look and a smirk spread across his face. This is why he'd enjoyed picking on her throughout their younger years. She was simply too easily ruffled.
Evan's jaw clenched as he began to whisper the lyrics song he'd been humming to. Celestina Warbeck wasn't a particular favourite of his, but her songs were catchy. And it made his detention all the more entertaining to watch a scarlet flush creep up on Evan's cheeks as she so obviously tried to contain her irritation.
"Oh my poor heart, where has it gone?" he sang quietly. "It's left me for a spell."
"Would you shut up?" demanded Evans. "Some people are trying to concentrate." Her knuckles were white at this point as she polished the trophy furiously.
James snorted. "Because it takes so much concentration to polish a bloody trophy." He set down his father's trophy and headed over to the cabinet to grab another one. But he did not return to his spot afterward. He leaned against a table near Evans. She shifted slightly, visibly irked by his presence closer to her. "So, Red, you never did finish that story about how you got detention."
Evans grabbed another trophy as well and raised an eyebrow at him. "I don't believe I started that story, Potter."
"Well, let's have it then, Evans," he said with a grin.
She blatantly ignored his request, focusing on her new trophy. In response to her reaction, James used a free hand to grab a flyaway lock of her hair. He played with it as he murmured, "C'mon, Red, it can't be half as bad as some of the stuff I've done. And trust me, I've done loads of terrible stuff,"
"Fine," said Evans. He dropped her hair. It was James's turn to raise an eyebrow. "I'll tell you why I'm here tonight, if you tell me why you're here."
"Sure," agreed James. "'Coz of the stunt I pulled on the Hufflepuff common room," he lied easily. If he explained the true reason for his punishment, she'd ask why he'd gone and drank so much. And Merlin knew how hard it was for him to lie while talking about his parents. He'd only told Sirius everything, and that was only because he lived with the Potters, and it was a hard fact to hide while living in the same house. Even Remus and Peter had only heard about one of the earlier St. Mungo's trips, and that was only because he'd left the letter he'd received on the floor.
"Liar," Evans responded. "Hestia was involved in that too, and the punishment for that ended ages ago,"
James mentally cursed, but said to her, "Maybe I didn't polish my trophies properly, Red. You know how I like to live on the wild side." he added, smirking.
"You didn't. Hest would've complained that she had to all the work if you had." she replied, a small smirk of her own. They both grabbed new trophies, and the two continued to lean on the table.
Damn this bird for being so smart, thought James, half-impressed and half-irritated. "Fine, it was something I did with my mates. Got into a fight with some Slytherins and whatnot." This idea was entirely plausible. Given his faults of temper and resolution-of-conflicts-with-fist, this was a frequent occurrence. In fact, James was almost surprised that he hadn't gotten into an altercation with members of the opposing house in a while. He made a mental note to remind Sirius of the lack of attention to Slytherins as of late.
"Potter, if you're not going to tell me the real story, why should I tell you mine? I know it wasn't a fight with the Slytherins either, because you haven't mentioned in any fights reported by Prefects or teachers in the past week. Nor have you in have any pranks, so don't you try that."
Bloody hell. James let out a frustrated sigh. "I was drunk, Red," he gritted through his teeth grudgingly.
Her trophy clattered to the floor.
"What?" she said, shocked. Evans bent down to pick it up, and James noted her wide eyes.
"Drunk. Intoxicated. Inebriated. Sloshed, smashed, off my face, take your pick."
"When? Why?" Evans asked, incredulity in her voice.
James tossed his current trophy aside and took a new one. He concentrated on the words on it as he spoke. Tom Riddle, for services to the school. "In Potions. Because I felt like it. Happy, now? Your turn." he said, harshly.
"Potter, you can't expect me to believe that. You'd do a lot of stupid things, but I highly doubt you're unintelligent enough to show up to class intoxicated for no good reason."
"Your. Turn." he repeated in the same severe tone. He didn't want to speak about his parents, and he certainly didn't like the softness of her tone. He needed no sympathy, and he wouldn't have it, especially not from her. He got enough of that from the Healers when he went to visit his parents. In his head, he wanted to tell her to thank her lucky stars she was a female, or he'd have punched her by now for pressing the matter.
Evans crossed her arms determinedly. "I haven't heard the full story yet, Potter. You said you'd tell me why you were here, and the reason why you got sloshed has to do with the reason why you're in detention. I'm not going to share my story yet." The Gryffindor appeared to remain obstinate, in both her stance and mind-frame.
"Fine, Evans. Maybe I was just that stupid. Maybe I was fucking thick enough to show up to class after more than a bottle of firewhiskey. Maybe I'm just that much of an idiot, an arrogant sod, who thinks he's exempt from the rules. Is that what you want to hear, hm? You want to hear about how much of a toerag I am?" he spat out.
She looked taken aback for a moment, and then angry. "I was concerned, you idiot. I may not like you, but it's not normal for a sixteen year old bloke to go on a drinking binge for no apparent reason! You don't have to be so rude about it,"
James laughed mirthlessly. "Please, Red. I was just repeating some of the kinder phrases you used last year. So excuse me if I don't give a shit about your feelings any more than you did mine."
Evans turned red, whether with embarrassment or anger, he was not certain. "You deserved what I said. You humiliated Sev– Snape. You bullied people left and right, just because you were bored. And you embarrassed me in front of everyone with your silly displays."
"I had my reasons for what we did to Snape. I don't have to explain myself. I may have been a git to some people, but what's done is done. Embarrassed you, Evans? How do you think it felt to be rejected in front of our entire year? Did you ever even take into consideration that your little tirades might bother me the least bit?"
"Then you shouldn't have asked in front of our entire year, Potter. Especially not after hurting my best friend. Please, don't pretend for a moment anything other than your ego was damaged, which it could do with now and then. You screwed up my life. I'm the one who lost a best friend. I'm the one who was pressured for date, just because you wanted another notch in your bedpost." She looked at him with disgust and then turned her gaze away, going back to work.
James knew her accusations were wrong, and hated it. He wished that he could have wanted her as just another notch in his bedpost. But he never would. "You still haven't told me your story." he said, brushing off her comments.
"You still haven't finished yours," Evans retorted, still scowling.
He decided enough was enough. "Someone close to me... is not well." James settled on finally. It was true, and she could probably tell from his tone that he didn't want to talk about it. "That's why I got sloshed."
The scowl quickly left her face. "Oh," she said, her face holding understanding.
"Don't bring it up to anyone. S'not something I want spread around." he muttered. He wished he'd brought a package of smokes with him. Though it was probably better he hadn't. He might've gone through half the pack by now, and he imagined McGonagall wouldn't take too kindly to that. He ran a hand through his hair. He waited for the sympathy, the, 'I'm so sorry' that he'd gotten so many times from almost every person to find out.
"I punched Severus." was her response.
Now he dropped his trophy. "Excuse me?" he said as he picked it up from the floor.
Evans blushed, and looked down at the award she was polishing. "He called Mary the M-word, and then tried to apologize to me for it... I got really frustrated, and I punched him. Gave him a nosebleed. Unfortunately, Professor McGonagall happened to be walking by at that particular instant."
A grin spread across his face. "Red, you dirty little hypocrite. You go reprimanding me and the lads for 'altercations in the corridors' and then you go and give a Slythergit a left hook? How's that work out morally?"
"I– I don't claim to be proud of it. But it's why I'm here tonight." she murmured, her blush darkening.
James nudged her slightly. "Getting into fights with Slytherins, doing detentions, you may fit in well with my lot now. Scary thought, isn't it?"
"Don't compare me to you and your mates. One little punch is hardly the same as years of bullying, pranking and general mischief, Potter." the redhead scoffed.
James had a wide smirk. "Whatever you say, Red."
Evans rolled her eyes. "Why do you insist upon calling me that awful nickname?" she asked, not for the first time. There had been many other instances, in which she had demanded (in less polite tones) the answer as to why he chose to dub her thus. Most of his answers had either been 'because I can', or a smarmy smirk. "Do you enjoy giving people names that scar and/or irk them for the rest of their lives?"
"Would you prefer Princess? Or perhaps, Carrot-Top? Because those were on the list as well when I was deliberating. Maybe you'd enjoy Sirius's pick: 'Madame Stick-in-her-arse.'" He recalled the day on the train, just after he and Sirius had encountered Snape and her. They'd already come up with a nickname for Snape, and wanted one for the haughty red-haired girl who'd stood by him. Sirius was very stubborn in his choice, but James decided 'Red' fit her better.
"Suddenly, I can put up with Red." replied Evans.
James sniggered. "Thought so." He ran a hand through his hair and sat on the table as he polished. "So, how long did your socking of Snivellus get you in here for?"
Evans frowned. "A week. I'm not so certain it's necessary. It was my first fight, and I've certainly learned my lesson."
"And what was that? 'One should not duff up Slytherins... where professors can see you?'" he questioned mockingly.
"Of course that's the type of message you would get out of the situation." she muttered, grabbing another award an rubbing at it distractedly. James peered over at it and saw with amusement that it was his, for Quidditch. He'd recieved it at the end of his fifth year. She probably hadn't noticed the engraving, or she'd have chosen another. "The lesson was not to duff up Slytherins at all."
"Good thing it wasn't my lesson to learn," James commented, throwing the smaller trophy he had in his hands back and forth. The tiny golden prize reminded him vaguely of a snitch. He remembered the snitch he'd nicked in fifth year. He'd stopped playing with it as of late. It was most likely at the bottom of his trunk, under bits of parchment, rotten sweets and clothing that no longer fit him. But this trophy worked well enough for refining his reflexes.
He glanced at his watch. Noticing the time, he set his pseudo-snitch and his rag down and hopped off the table. As if on cue, Professor McGonagall walked into the room. Without a word to either Gryffindor, she inspected the trophies they'd polished. She gave a brisk nod of approval. "Tomorrow you will both be cleaning the cages for the animals used in Transfiguration class. Be in my classroom by seven." She dismissed them and swept out of the room.
"Bye, Red," called James loudly as he sauntered out of the room. He sent a wink her way, and as he turned his head, he swore he saw her smirk the tiniest bit.
And the next day, he would make sure that he cleaned especially slow. No matter how much of an annoyance it would be to spend more time amongst the animal droppings. Because, of all of James's faults, his addiction to Lily Evans had to be the worst of them all.
Disclaim.