James Sirius Potter is a prat, Annabelle thought angrily. A prat and a creep. He doesn't deserve to grace the name Potter. James is a blundering fool, and I wish I had never laid eyes on him.
He is the world's biggest git! I hope he crawls in a hole and dies! Annabelle thought, going on with her mental tirade.
James is an annoyance and I hate him so much! Just when I thought we were on the road to being friends, he has to go and screw everything up.
Annabelle hoped that James could hear her thoughts, and it took all of her willpower not to hex him into oblivion. Luckily, Melanie, Fred, and James's first-year brother Albus talked her out of it.
If you looked up the word stalker in te encyclopedia, you would see a picture of James, holding his scrapbook with pictures of Annabelle.
Fred had sworn if Annabelle knew about it she would be amused, or even flattered. But she wasn't. By any stretch of his or James's imaginations.
One day they (James and Annabelle) were studying in the library. James was scribbling down notes about the information Annabelle read to him. Later, she would copy the notes. It was a nice system, one that was invented (and patented) by Fred and Melanie.
"On to Charms," Annabelle said, switching books. Realizing he had run out of space on the parchment, he reached into his bag for a new piece, and James knocked his bag over. His books spilled everywhere.
"I'll help you," Annabelle said, moving to assist him in collecting the scattered textbooks. Then one book caught her eye.
She picked up the book, noticing her name on the cover. "What's this?"
"That's nothing," James assured her, grabbing his scrapbook back. His face was flushed from embarrassment.
James tried to get back to work. "If you mix gurdyroot with an infusion of-"
Annabelle raised her wand. "Accio book," she spoke. About ten books of various sizes flew at her, but she quickly picked out the thin volume James didn't want her to see.
She opened it tentatively, as if it was a bomb about to go off. Flipping through the pages, Annabelle was horrified. There were dozens of pictures of her in the book, ranging from ages 4 to 12.
Who was this person, and why did he have a book full of... well, her?
Her normally strawberry blonde hair turned red. "What is this book, James Potter? Have you been spying on me?"
James's response to this was to raise his tiny enchanted camera. "Say cheese!" The flashbulb went off. So did Annabelle, ripping up his scrapbook.
"What are you doing?" James cried. She was ripping the pictures he had worked so hard to acquire and organize.
Annabelle kept going, examining each picture before she destroyed it. "Oh look, Quidditch tryouts! Look at me in Transfuguration! It's me unconscious-"
She stopped after that picture. "Why would you take a picture of that? Were you proud that you nearly killed me?" she asked.
"No!" James yelled back. "I took them because I'm slightly insane!"
Annabelle scoffed. "Slightly! You're more than slightly insane, James Sirius Potter!" the girl screamed.
The libraries patrons gave a simultaneous, "Shh!" as if they were channeling James's aunt Hermione.
"You are a world-class creep!" Annabelle brought her voice down to a whisper. James glared at her.
"Stop being such a switch!" James hissed back. Only he didn't say 'switch.' He said something much worse.
Annabelle's eyes widened. James regretted his words instantly. Of all the things they had ever said to each other, there had never been obscenities. Until now.
"Potter, you will pay for that," Annabelle spat, gathering her books and stalking away angrily, leaving James alone.
Yup, he thought. I screwed up big-time. She'll never forgive me for that.
Across the castle, Annabelle reflected on her row with James. Looking back, she realized he was one for words (as foul as they may be) and she was the first to resort to violence. But punching him was so much easier than 'talking it out.'
But Annabelle couldn't help but blush at the thought of James staring at those pictures. Why was she blushing? What was happening? Oh no...