I love my parents. They should be happy and have friends. But when your parents become best friends with the mother of James Potter, your annoying, lazy, infuriating, arrogant, childish prat of an ex-boyfriend, and invite them to spend the Christmas holidays with your family, you start to question the relativity of happiness. Right before you lose your sanity, of course.

You mean to say that Potter's family is coincidentally staying across the street from our beach house for the summer, Mum and Mrs. Potter are now randomly best friends, and they expect me to hang out with that git for two months? You've got to be joking. (Even worse? There's a sequel.)

Even after being separated by direct orders of the Führer and knowing they were under close surveillance, they still found ways to each other. [Royai]

She was dramatic. He was dynamic. She was precise. He was impulsive. He was James, and she was Lily, and one day they shared a kiss, but before that they shared many arguments, for he was cocky, and she was sweet, and matters of the heart require time.

James knows only one thing, and he knows it with utmost certainty. He is going to die.