Long weekends are love. That is all.
viii. like father, like son
James Sirius Potter was his father's son.
To start, he was a Gryffindor.
He was completely obsessed with Quidditch and absolutely loved to be in the air.
His best subject was Defense Against the Dark Arts.
He had a mess of uncontrollable hair which often was long enough to cover the tops of his glasses.
He never was named a prefect.
And on top of it all, he was in love with a red head. Like his father, like his grandfather.
(not that he was dating her)
No, he walked through the halls holding his girlfriend's hand, a petite little thing with long straight (boring) brown hair and a round face with a cute button nose, (wish-washy) blue eyes and a (n okay) splattering of freckles across her nose. Kelsey Finnigan.
And he walked through the halls dreaming of a mass of bright red curls that framed a thin face. With dark brown eyes and freckles all over her body. Rose Weasley.
And he knew it was (soso) so wrong and he realized he was (soso) so sick but it didn't change a thing.
It didn't change how he cringed every time he saw her with Scorpius (fucking) Malfoy.
It didn't change how his heart started racing when he saw her.
It didn't change how he wished is was James&Rose and not James&Kelsey and Scorpius&Rose
No, even though he disgusted himself and scoldedhimself and yelled at himself about how it was (soso) so wrong,
It didn't change on god forsaken thing.
Certainly not that he was a Potter,
Not that all Potters seemed doomed to fall in love with those red-haired girls.
(even when it wasn't good for them)
Ehh. I'm not in love with it. Or the title. OHWELL.