The halls of Hogwarts had never seemed so desolate than they did on that afternoon, James was walking around aimlessly; term was almost over so it wasn't as if he even had any homework he could be doing. Everyone was getting ready for the ball that evening, everyone except him, that was. He figured he'd go and take a bath, pull on the dress robes his mother had purchased for him, drag a comb through his hair (backwards) and he'd be done, and in less than an hour at that. He never could understand how a person could take so long to prepare themself; he could think of at least one girl who definitely couldn't get better looking. But, he reminded himself, he shouldn't be thinking about her.
He slumped down against a wall, under a great arch in the school's outdoor walkway, looking out over the grounds. He wasn't particularly looking forward to that night, where he would have to wear a stupid outfit and dance and make small talk to a girl he not only barely knew but who had only a basic grasp of the English language. He sighed. Oh well, he would have to make the best of it. Perhaps he and Marie would turn out to be the perfect pairing; maybe she would turn out to be stunningly eloquent and he would dazzle her with his vast literary knowledge and fabulous dance moves. Perhaps he would be swept away with her beauty and charm and they would dance until dawn. His eyes scanned across the grounds and settled on a gaggle of Beaubatons girls. They were laughing and walking together, their pale blue uniforms standing out against their lush green surroundings. Yeah, James thought. He'd make a real effort tonight. His past crushes were behind him, all the failed relationships: history. He would take tonight as it came, and make sure he and Marie had a bloody great time too.
As they walked towards the school, James focused, in the midst of them was Marie, laughing with the rest. Damn, why did girls always have to travel in packs? He swung his legs around and stood up, walking briskly towards the girls. He was James Potter, and he could be as cocky as he liked; it didn't matter because people's opinions were already set and Marie liked him.
"Bonjour, Marie," he called, walking close to them. A few of the group, Marie included, stopped to greet him. He couldn't help thinking she didn't seem too pleased to see him.
"Uh… Voulez-vous a… walk with… moi?" he finished lamely.
Marie muttered something to her friends, who nodded their farewells and quickly left. "In fact, Jacques, I want to tell you something."
Jaques? What? "Um, actually it's James."
She looked slightly affronted. "Oh… We say Jaques in France."
Perhaps that was true, or perhaps she was covering up a forgotten name… James wasn't sure but he decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. He held his arm out for her to take, and smiling, he looked down at her. "Milady, care to join me for a stroll?" She eyed him warily. His arm still remained outstretched. "Would you like to walk with me?" he asked again, smiling.
She still did not accept his arm. He sighed. This was going to be a long night.
"You had something to tell me?" he asked lightly, turning to face her. She did not return his warm grin.
"Yes," she said, coldly. "I apologise, for I have arranged to go to the ball tonight with another boy."
"Ahh," said James, wringing his hands behind his back. Even Marie had deserted him. Still, he couldn't say he blamed her, they barely knew each other and he wouldn't exactly class himself 'a catch' - especially now he had a fiendish reputation as a womaniser. "Well, that's okay, I suppose you will have a good night."
"Yes," she nodded.
"Well, I hope you have fun!" he smiled through gritted teeth.