A/N: Hi. I hope you like this as much as I do. Actually, I hope you like it more! Don't forget to Review!
Disclaimer: I still don't own all of JK Rowling's work?... Darn!
James Potter never used to smoke. He never used to love the feeling of the smoke filling up his lungs as he inhaled. He never used to stand outside between classes and light up with the other Marauders. He never used to smell of stale tobacco. James Potter never used to smoke, not until Allysha, or was it Alyssa, offered him a drag as she slid out of his bed, wrapped in his sheets in attempt to find her clothes that had been scattered across his room in attempt for them both to find some sort of release. Obviously he accepted.
James Potter never used to sleep around. He never used to play with girls hearts and manipulate their feeling. He never used to carve a notch in his bedpost multiple times a week after his flavour of the day ran out of his room, usually in tears (he never let them spend the night.) He never used to be known for his easy charm and skills in bed, he used to be known for his careless attitude and funny pranks. He never used to smell of cheap perfume. James Potter never used to sleep around, not until he lost his virginity in fourth year to a sixth year whose name he never caught and was gone in the morning, after a drunken one night stand. He was supposed to save himself for Lily, but now what was the point?
James Potter never used to drink. He never used to love the feeling of firewhiskey burning as it slid down his throat. He never used to wake up in strange places with a pounding head ache and no recollection of how he got there. He never used to have to be checked on every hour by his friends at night to make sure he was still breathing when he drank a little too much. He never used to smell like stale whiskey. James Potter never used to drink, not until he asked out Lily in third year for possibly the three hundredth time, and like normal she turned him down and broke his heart, but that time the pain couldn't be numbed by quidditch and pranks. So he tried firewhiskey, it worked.
James Potter never used to love Lily Evans. He never used to sit around and stare at her for hours on end. He never used to become mesmerised by her sparkling emerald eyes. He never used to long to run his fingers through her flaming her hair. He never used to dream about her every night. He never used to wish for her on every shooting star, on every birthday cake candle, on every wishbone, on every dandelion and on every knut he threw in a fountain. He never used to picture her wrapped in his sheets instead of that other girl. He never used to cry at night (because he can't get her out of his head and it hurts). He never used to want to hex every guy that ever looked at her. He never used to ask her out every chance he got even though he knew she would turn him down and he knew it would kill him when she did. James Potter never used to love Lily Evans, not until he climbed aboard the Hogwarts Express on his first day of school and came face to face with a smiling Lily Evans with flaming hair and emerald eyes. James Potter never used to love Lily Evan, then he met her.