Charming, charismatic, handsome, suave, outgoing, clever and intelligent, James Daniel Potter had not even finished his last year at Hogwarts and was becoming, if not already, a legend. He walked through the school as though he owned it. A nod here, a wink there, he had an arrogant stride to his walk. Ever since he was small, there had always been people there to compliment, encourage and egg him on with his actions. Coming from a rich, high-society family, his status had assured him respect and recognition as soon as he had come into the world. Being the only Potter child, he was adored by his parents.
His mother, Elena Lisa Havenson was exquisitely cultured and played her part of noblewoman perfectly. Tall, slim and blonde she attracted the eyes of many men even at the somewhat ripe age of 47. Her eyes were a steel grey, but her loving personality and positive outlook on life softened them from the hard, cold expression they could take on at times.
At 28, a miscarriage had brought her life crashing down around her. She had been bed-ridden and depressed, the only thing left to keep her holding on was her loving husband, Harold Alexander Potter. 2 years later they had tried for another child. And been gifted with a beautiful baby boy. James, ever since, had been the light of their lives.
So arriving at Hogwarts he had expected no less. And it was exactly that contemptuous, upper-class attitude that had ticked Lily off so badly.
She was beautiful; yes he had seen that at once. But beautiful girls had never given him any trouble before. But unfortunately for him she was a red headed spitfire, not a blonde bombshell.
At 11 years old when he had first encountered her, naturally he was not in the least romantically interested in her. Happening to fall in the crowded station and colliding with the young girl had been completely chance, but in her he had at once seen a loving, caring fun personality and had been drawn to it. Lily new in the world of wizarding had avidly accepted him as a newfound friend. Regrettably after James had partnered up with Sirius Black, she had quickly become and easy and entertaining target for their pranks.
So this lovely girl had quickly run to the other side of the battlefield and instead of an ally she had quickly become the enemy. But as they grew older, the stupid tricks and jokes they played he played on her. They were no longer to simply amuse him. Even if it merited a scream and a painful slap, he was willing to do just about anything to attract her attention.
Suddenly in his mind something had come to a full stop and began to turn the complete other way. Lily had grown up. And well, he liked it… a lot. So immaturely and quite unprepared for the consequences that might follow, he had gone after her.
At first her rejection had stung. He wasn't use to not getting what he wanted. And he strained the phrase " It never hurts to ask" to the very end. He was actually very taken with her and just couldn't see why she didn't see that. So with his pride on the line he hadn't given up. Many times he had come very close, but you can't choose when or who you fall in love with.
Now his confusion did have some reason. He certainly could have had any other girl he wanted.
He stood tall, 6'0. His hair was medium length, charcoal black and constantly in disarray. On top of that he was always running his hands through it, which ruffled it and gave it a windswept appearance.
He had large hands, broad shoulders and tanned, weathered skin. He had a smallish face, an oval shape with a square jaw. Small, thin, wire framed glassed perched on his nose, behind which dark hazel eyes glittered mischievously. He hated his glasses and was forever putting them down and forgetting about them. He was actually much better looking if he wasn't wearing them, but sadly couldn't see much.
Though his professors were incessantly telling him to sit down, be quiet, hand in his work, stop fooling around and etcetera, he was actually very bright.
He excelled in charms and transfiguration much to the chagrin of his fellow classmates, as he was always boasting and showing off. The thing about being a marauder was that whatever you didn't happen to be good at; there was someone who was.
Though excellent at practical magic, he failed to grasp the theories and written work. Remus was just the opposite and traded his notes for wrist flicking teachings.
His father had been an infamous troublemaker during his years at Hogwarts, and his son intended to live up to his name. He often received letters from his father, new gadgets, or tips usually being included. His mother strongly disapproved of his and his father's secret dealing, and this only made their bond stronger.
He absolutely worshiped his father. They were very similar in looks, and were the best of friends. They had a connection that couldn't be broken and at the age of 5, his father had presented him with his first broomstick. They had spent hours everyday together, Harold teaching his son everything he knew.
Ever since he had adored the sport and therefore had taken to Quidditch very quickly. It was a fast paced, dangerous game that suited his adventurous spirit perfectly.
He lived for the feeling of being 100 feet in the air held up only by a small broomstick and his self-trust. He pitied people who had never experienced the absolute and complete feeling of just… nothing. When you were sitting above the world solely on air currents you felt utterly free. You could do anything and everything you could ever want.
When he sped down the Quidditch pitch, the wind roaring in his ears and whipping through his clothes, he had only one thought running through his mind. Score. As he swerved, flipped, turned, dodged, sped, flew, darted and zigzagged down the pitch he was blind and deaf to anything but the game.
He had been put on the Griffindor house team his second year at Hogwarts and had stunned captains and players at his amazing skill and concentration. Chaser was a difficult position at the best of times, but for a 12 year olds first year playing he was superb.
He played fairly and generously passing frequently but not excessively. He kept the ball at the right times, smirking at the keeper before pelting the ball through one of the hoops.
So to many of his peers and even teachers James Potter was not just an ordinary 17 year old. He was extremely good looking, intelligent, athletic, popular and had a tight group of friends.
But sadly for this young man at the wonderful and prosperous time in his life, fate had kicked in. Because he certainly didn't choose to fall in love with a quarrelsome red head. But that is just what happened.
He had gravely realized as he grew older that it was indeed love. As much as he had tried to push it away, it had solidly refused. His breath still caught in his throat as the wind would blow through hair, or she came in from outside with her cheeks pink from the cold. An icy hand still clutched at his heart every time she would laugh at another guy, or smile at something they would say. He still turned in his sleep at the thought of a green eyes girl scribbling on a sheet of parchment.
And although Lily had not yet noticed, he had changed in his manner towards her. His propositions were more mature, he never played any more pranks on her, and well, he just very obviously adored her.
And as each day the knowledge that she really detested him weighed heavier and heavier on his heart, he began to become more and more reclusive. Because loving someone that much hurts. Really hurts.