Seven Years of Unexpected

by penspencils546

When Rose Weasley marched into his train compartment with a confused Albus, shook his hand, and promptly informed him they were going to be best friends, Scorpius Malfoy realized he had very little choice in the matter. There begins seven years of questioning, astonishing, and transforming the foundations and expectations of the magical world.

16. Chapter 16

IMPORTANT - So sometime in April I published the chapter with Draco and Astoria, Scorpius getting bullied by Madgewick and the Weasleys deciding to prank her. Then in early AUGUST I published a chapter with Harry, Ron and Hermione, Hagrid and Scorpius, and the Weasleys (and Sara) carrying out the prank - this was the chapter that REPLACED an AN that i posted in July explaining the future updating schedule. THIS chapter was supposed to be the reaction to the prank and a Quidditch game, but I started it off with the flashback of Sara and James' first year. Because the flashback became very long, I just published it individually as it's own chapter (primarily centered around James). I know I've been jumping between many characters in the last few chapters so I PROMISE the next chapter will be SOLELY focused on Al, Rose, and Scorpius - PINKY SWEAR. As for now though, enjoy the chapter and *try* not to be too critical in judging the characters - they're only twelve, even if they're rather mature in they're outlook on life.

Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling.

---

Flashback to the Late Spring of Sara and James' First Year (2017):

When the plan had originally arisen in his mind, he never gave a second thought over the possibility that it could blow out of proportion. Why would he? There was no reason to assume at that point that a harmless day of distracting Sara so Fred could prank her would wound up in a lifetime of fiercely antagonistic rivalry and mutual resentment between the two of them.

Technically, their relationship was already supposed to be a fiercely antagonistic rivalry with mutual resentment. When Sara Barjati first walked into his train compartment, he hadn't spared her a second glance. He looked up just as she gave a timid smile when she asked to sit with them and he automatically assumed she would be a shy Hufflepuff, with the offhand thought that her bag of books might warrant her a rather unmemorable Ravenclaw. He did acknowledge she had nice hair, and her smile would have been pretty if it wasn't so soft an hesitant. He returned to his Quidditch book and the other people who were incredibly enraptured by his extravagant, blatantly exaggerated bragging. What came out of his mouth was a blur, and he often didn't know what he was saying until he said it. He must of said something insulting her, or probably just something vaguely mocking, but he didn't think much of it at the time. He didn't even remember turning to see that girl's face even once in the entire twenty minutes she sat there. He did recall her making some clever remark that threw him off, but his attention span had been rather narrow. But he said a couple more things, and suddenly out of the blue he was being smacked with a book. It normally would not have been strong enough to do anything but catch his attention, but it had been so unexpected that in shock he had slid out of the seat. And obviously his lack of coordination resulted in him tripping over his own two feet and sent his glasses flying right at that seething girl's feet.

When he reached over to pick it up she spun on her heel and practically stormed out of the compartment.

He remembered thinking how rude that was. Not that she smacked him with a book or sent him sliding out of the seat – no. It was that she didn't bother to pick up his glasses – that part miffed him like nothing else did.

When he looked up, everyone was either laughing openly, suppressing a giggle, or staring at the door of the compartment in shock.

If this had happened a year later, or a month later, or even a week later, James would have just dusted himself off and cracked a joke that would have sent everyone tumbling back to his side.

That's what he normally did – humor was the bodyguard of all his other emotions, and he had worked hard enough to make it the only thing that people saw. By age 12, he had trained himself so well he sometimes completely forgot that it was even an option to feel anything different or react with anything other than a laugh and a witty response.

But unfortunately, he was eleven at that time, and the few cracks in his façade that he had not yet sealed away appeared in that moment. His face burned as he took a couple seconds of seconds of groping around to find his glasses. When he regained himself, he was so thrown off from his plans that he had no idea how to get back on track.

James knew it would not be possible to make a reputation of himself that didn't already partially belong to someone else. He didn't expect to do anything extraordinarily unexpected or memorably shocking, but there was one thing he longed to prove. And that was to prove to everyone that he didn't give a shit.

That he didn't give a shit about who his father was, who his family wanted him to be, or what the world expected him to be.

James knew that he couldn't control how people perceived him, and on the inside he couldn't control how that made him feel. But he vowed to never let anyone know how much that mattered to him. All they would see would be a boy who loved the spotlight, loved the attention – someone who knew without a doubt that he belonged in it, father or not.

They'd see that he didn't give a shit that the person he was going to be was decided long before he even realized he had a choice.

That he didn't care about how he couldn't walk down the street with his family without being photographed or talked about. He didn't care that he was a show, that he was entertainment – that he was a puppet on strings being pulled to do the things that made people laugh.

He'd convince them that he never felt scared that he would be a disappointment to everyone. Scared that He wouldn't be funny enough, or mischievous enough, or clever enough, or noble enough. That he never felt upset because he knew he was a disappointment. Because he wasn't James Potter, he wasn't Sirius Black, and he sure as hell wasn't his father.

But there wasn't anything else he could be, was there?

He didn't care, and he believed fervently that if he succeeded in convincing the world of that, he would eventually be able to convince himself.

He didn't want anyone to know that he cared about all of it so much it hurt.

And the deeper he tumbled into the reality he created, the more hurt he felt that his own parents couldn't tell the difference between the truth he created and the real one.

They truly believed he loved attention too much for his own good. And yes, they had reason to be furious when they woke up to find Al's skin blue, but to be honest, they had always expected him to be as troublesome as his namesakes. He grew up hearing stories of James Potter and Sirius Black, and the words of 'I wonder how bad this James will be' were never far behind them.

Yes, James Sirius Potter was an idiot, but technically not being an idiot would make him just as much of a disappointment as not being a hero. And he was no hero.

He was a moronic troublemaker, but it was either that or being the noble saviour of humanity, and he wasn't brave enough to be the latter.

And maybe he was a little irritated that the thought never entered his parents' mind that if he really thought he was as important as he said he was, he wouldn't need to try so hard to convince them.

But it was important to mention that he didn't hate attention. He wanted to be powerful and important and he wanted to be remembered. But that was the problem. He wanted to be important, but he was important because of other people, who became important by doing things he wasn't strong enough or brave enough or smart enough to do.

James wanted to be important because of himself, but "himself" was his namesakes, or his father or his mother or his last name. And so his existence was based on living up to that expectation or rebelling against it. There was no room to create anything more of what was "himself", much less making it important.

He did like pranking and being mischievous and being too clever for his own good… but was that all he could be? Anything else would never compare to the people who came before him – it would leave him forgotten, and that's what worried him the most.

And he knew he did go overboard with it, when talking to everyone else. He knew while he was talking that everything he was saying was a load of exaggerated shit, and he actually thought it was rather pathetic how much everyone… believed it. Like obviously Victor Krum didn't offer him Quidditch lessons, and obviously there would have been no way for him to sneak away to Hogsmeade at night, and no he sure as hell did not do well at school by never opening a textbook.

There were was a grain of truth to what he said – he had a very sharp mind that grasped concepts very quickly, and because of that he needed much less practise than other people did. To admit that to himself may suggest a want for modesty, but he had to acknowledge it to some extent to be honest – he was smart. He had the unpleasant inkling that this might change once he reached the higher years, but he was very good at avoiding things he didn't want to think about. But he did not write essays an hour before class began, like he said; he wrote them at night on his bed with the curtains drawn so no one would see the light. That was another good thing about him – he could operate on limited sleep. He seemed to have a inexhaustible source of energy, and the fact that it never failed to irritate people was a plus.

And this girl - who was supposed to be absolutely nothing - had suddenly reduced him back into the embarrassed, immature child he was, instead of the carefree, confident person he was pretending to be. She revealed him for being the absolute joke he was, and he despised her for it. Because she was right – so completely right and he just didn't want her to be.

He was even more irritated when she got sorted into Gryffindor. He couldn't understand it when he thought about it even a couple of weeks later, but he hated her so much in that moment, when the hat called the word out. He was so angry at being wrong, and for her existence making him wrong.

He wanted to ignore her so badly – one of the first and few people who absolutely refused to buy into his bullshit, who refused to accept the lies that everyone else did. He wanted to pretend it didn't matter what she thought, but she wasn't timid or silly or dull. She responded to his insults with words as sharp as his own, and while he may have angrily muttered the wish for her to be like everyone else, it almost… exhilarated him every time that she wasn't.

It didn't mean that he wanted to be friends with her. She was too messed up to be friends with any way.

She was practically antisocial. She seemed to enjoy being on her own, often choosing to walk around on her own, or study or read, instead of spending time with anyone else. Roxanne had told him on more than one occasion that while the two girls enjoyed hanging out together, Roxanne's attempts at forming a closer friendship were often rebuffed. Sara was busy and unavailable much more often than not, and whenever their discussions moved from the issues of the world, to their own personal desires and fears, Sara shut herself up like a clam and refused to divulge any personal emotion about herself. Sara was good at giving advice and having interesting conversations, talking to people and telling them off – but she would never let herself be true friends with them. Roxanne told him that she could take a hint – that Sara was a lone wolf who preferred solitude, and she herself was fine with just being casual friends who hung out sometimes.

James that was a load of bullshit for a girl who liked to talk that much, but he never cared enough to interfere into the social life of a girl who was kind of his enemy.

Sara couldn't deal with being wrong, she seemed to think she was better than everyone else, and was such a control freak. She needed to be in charge of everything, and was reluctant to let anyone else do the tiniest thing in group projects or endeavours, in the fear that even a tiny, minuscule detail would not match her internal vision. She had anger management issues too; her comments bordered on insensitive when she was piqued. In James' opinion though, which didn't mean much to her. She was always sarcastic to the point of sometimes being hurtful, and occasionally rather cold.

There were so many ways you could respond to Sara Barjati. Hating her, admiring her… mostly hating her, whether it was out of offence or jealousy or irritation. But one thing that was impossible to do was ignore her. Which was all James Potter really wanted to do. But she didn't accept things she didn't like, and she didn't let opinions or norms stop her from saying it – which was a problem for a person like him, who was relying on popular opinion to maintain the image of the person he was.

After a month or two, he realized that while he may have internal justifications for the anger he felt, he really needed to sort of try getting his head out of his arse. It didn't work, but he hoped it was the thought that would count.

Eventually, the annoyance and distrust they felt for each other was replaced into something resembling grudging respect that neither would admit existed. Their exchange of insults had shifted from aggressive mocking to lively teasing.

James never targeted anyone for pranks except her. He picked on her in class and she picked on him back. He pranked her – a notable example being when he slipped something in her drink so the only sound that came out of her mouth for a day was baby's wail, but she returned the favour by doing things like dumping a pitcher of milk over his head in front of the Great hall at breakfast the next morning.

For the most of first year, it was a fair trade. Until mid – May.

It was Saturday morning when he dragged himself to the library, grumbling internally that this prank had better be worth choosing a loud - mouthed, pre-teen workaholic over a day of flying. She was seated in the corner with two stacks of books on either side of her, scribbling fiercely over a piece of parchment, her curtain of long brown hair hanging over her face.

"Tell me something," James began as he slid into the chair across from her, feeling pleased at her sudden flinch of surprise that caused the tip of her quill to break. She shook her head slightly without looking up. "What do you think your gravestone will say when you're dead – Hear Lies Sara Barjati, the Girl Who Sat Alone and Wrote… Essays? Are you always this much of a bore?"

"Only by day," Sara remarked with a nonchalant shrug as she tossed aside her broken quill and picked up new one, "I spend my nights breaking curfew to fly over the Great Lake on my broom, and explore the woods of the Forbidden Forest."

"Flying?" James laughed. "I think that would require actually being able to get higher than 3 feet off the ground without screaming." He recalled the incident when she first mounted her broom. 3 feet was being generous. She looked up at him and smirked.

"You believe what you want. I'm a dangerous girl at heart."

"As dangerous as a girl who spends all her time in a library can be." Sara shrugged.

"A reader lives a thousand lives."

"Yeah, except their own." James snorted. "The only one that actually matters."

"I decide what matters in my life, and what I want with it. Nobody else decides how worthwhile it is."

"Well when you die, who's gonna be with you? You're looking at a pretty lonely eternity. Heaven might not have books."

"It wouldn't be heaven then."

"Well, I'm glad we'll be in very different heavens."

"Any place with you is the opposite of heaven."

"Your heaven is my hell."

"That's why we avoid each other." But both of them knew this was an exaggeration. There were a lot of things they did – avoiding each other just wasn't one of them.

"That just confirms my theory." James leaned forward, "That you spend all your time in the library because you know it's the one place I won't be."

"Obviously." Sara snorted without looking up, "It couldn't be that I like books or anything. My every decision has to revolve around you."

"I knew it." James slapped the table. The sound resulted in a group of fifth year Ravenclaws to shush him (which was much louder than the sound he had made) and Madame Pince began giving him the evil eye. James grinned and blew the old woman a kiss while Sara bit her bottom lip to suppress a smile.

"Anyway…" James grinned while leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, "The moment I realized it I began to feel bad. Imagine this poor room, having only met someone as horridly boring as you, and never meeting someone as absolutely gorgeous and clever and talented – "

" – egotistical, pigheaded, loud – mouthed – " Sara listed with a knowing look.

" – and generous and wonderful as me! It's quite an unfair punishment, wouldn't you agree?"

"It's heartbreaking to imagine." She rolled her eyes with expert nonchalance. James was almost impressed.

"So," James continued with a dramatic flourish, "From now on, I have to be in the library whenever you are. I don't think this place can survive any longer if it has no one to balance out your depressing existence."

"If you want." Sara shrugged before looking up, "But personally, I only give it five minutes before you get tired of Pince glaring at you like she's coming up with three hundred ways to murder you in your bed." James internally recoiled when he turned to meet the sight of Pince's crinkled unibrow and scrunched up nose (or beak, as James liked to think of it).

"It would be unfortunate for this place if I was to leave." James sighed as he turned back with a disgusted expression. "But what can I say? If I liked being glared at by females with hairy moustaches and hooked noses 24/7, I'd marry you."

"For once, I'm going to take that insult as a good thing." Sara crossed something out and continued scribbling.

"Do you know that your writing is atrocious?" James eyed her restless chicken scrawl tat sprawled over the page. "It looks like you're doodling more than writing."

"If I can understand it, I don't need anyone else to."

"I think that over there is a drawing of Al's chest air." James pointed to an empty corner.

"There's nothing there." Sara furrowed her eyebrows.

"Exactly." James beamed. Sara actually lifted her head this time to stare at him.

"You came here in the library to tell me an insult about your eleven year old brother, who I've never met and who will probably have more chest hair in a year than you will ever have in a lifetime?"

"I didn't intend to! But there's just something about some people that make them so… insultable!"

"I think I'll like your brother much more than I like you. But then again, he'd have to be pretty bad for me to like you better."

"Wanna know why I'm really here?" James asked cheerily as he leaned forward and rested his cheek on his palm.

"Professor Longbottom realized that in a day or two your head will be too big to fit through the door to his classroom and sent you to see me? Either way, you'd have to be forced."

"I am being forced. Forced by my conscious to aid the depressing damsel in distress. I'm here to be your Knight in shining armor." Sara glanced up with a frustrated expression.

"If anyone's the damsel, it's you. If I needed a knight, I'd become one myself. And I can assure you, I would be able to kick your arse."

"Maybe you'd be able to kick my nine year old cousin Lucy's arse if she was asleep, and that's still debatable, but I'm here to save you from the one person you can never escape."

"Are you planning on stabbing yourself with a sword?" Sara perked up, "If you are, I wouldn't do it here. Madame Pince would haunt you in the afterlife if you got any blood on her floor."

"If I was planning on committing suicide, I would make sure to do it on her desk. But no, I'm saving you from yourself." Sara stared at him with her eyesbrows raised in an "are you kidding me?" look.

"Right…" Sara gave a prolonged nod before rolling her eyes and looking back at her page.

"Because you really need it." James continued eagerly, "You do realize I'm the closest thing you have to a friend?" Sara's head snapped up angrily.

"I know you think you're everyone's best friend, but that's completely not true – " Madame Pince shushed her loudly.

"Telling people off and giving them homework help isn't friendship, it's pathetic."

"Neither is being followed by people who only care about your father!" Something froze inside of James when she said the words, but Sara didn't notice is transition from teasing to She continued to scribble on her parchment, but she did but a lot more pressure on her quill, until the point snapped off. She tossed it aside with frustration and grabbed a book. She opened it and started flipping through the pages roughly. James swallowed and reassumed his cheerful chuckle, albeit a little more forced.

"Sorry." He didn't sound particularly sorry, "I'm sure you have many, many friends, which is probably you're always walking around on your own – " Sara slammed the book shut, resulting in Madam Pince's pinched face snapping up.

"Miss Barjati and Mr. Potter!" She hissed, "If you do not learn to contain yourselves, I will be forced to kick you out!"

'Wouldn't that be a tragedy?" James muttered. Sara glared at him for a couple seconds before squeezing her eyes shut and taking a deep breath.

"If you don't want to be here," Sara seemed to struggle to remain calm, "Why don't you leave, instead of getting me kicked out as well!" With that, she once again opened her book and fixed her eyes open the page.

James inhaled discreetly in the attempt to hold his frustration in. As much fun as insulting each other could be, James had no desire to waste a day with her. He would have had much more fun actually doing the pranking bit, and he had argued that Fred could distract her better because she wouldn't be so caught up in hating him, but Fred had point blank disagreed with the argument that her hatred was the only thing that would distract her. Which was true. Sara was had a rather narrow focus. And she didn't let anything as trivial as friendship interrupt her life.

"Because I thought maybe by spring you would be a little tired of studying by yourself all the time, and you'd like to have some actual fun." Sara was not placated.

"Is that how you usually convince people to spend time with you? Tell them they have no choice?" Sara looked back down, before snapping her head back up. "And my idea of fun is not with you!"

Well neither is mine. James wanted to snap.

"You know what I think – you don't study so much to do well – you do it because there's nothing else you can do." Sara clenched her teeth.

"Sorry?" Her voice was deathly quiet.

"You're scared." James continued, "You know you're too scared to try anything new – so you just stick to your books. You know you're not brave enough to do most things, so you just read about them instead." Sara took a deep breath and bore holes into his eyes.

"You don't decide how brave I am." James just pushed back his chair and got up.

"You think you're brave, but you wouldn't even be able to survive a day with me. You wouldn't be able to last an hour – because you know you're not interesting enough." Sara glared at him for a minute before shoving back her chair (the loud screech resulted in an eruption of some angry mutterings) and throwing her stuff into her bag as she did some angry muttering of her own.

Typical. James chuckled. Make it a competition, and she'll never back down. Sara pushed past him so hard he stumbled a little. But then she turned to give him a icy look.

"I can deal with anything – but it's you who'll have to fork over ten galleons if you can't have at least half an hour of normal conversation with me – and insulting my study habits or social doesn't count." She spun on her heel and stomped out of the library without waiting to see if he would to follow.

But then again, James 'harrumphed' in his mind, I'm not much different.

---

The wind swirled around them as they walked across the grounds; the chilly silence between them didn't help with the cold slipping through their clothes. Sara rubbed her bare arms as they walked, refusing to look at James' face.

"Do you want my extra sweater?" He finally offered, scratching his head.

"I don't need your sweater." Sara raised her chin. James nodded awkwardly.

"Cool." James continued to nod, "Cool."

They roamed over the grounds in silence, listening to the wind race through the strands of rising grass.

"There's this… this tree," James cursed himself internally. He didn't want spend time with Sara in one of his favorite trees – it sounded like the beginning of a joke. She won't be able to climb it anyway. "It's a nice tree."

"The Whomping Willow?" Sara was unimpressed.

"No, one of the trees by the Great Lake. But this one's good for climbing. Not everyone climbs it… but it's… good for climbing." Have I actually ever had a normal conversation with this girl?

Sara shrugged and extended her arm in a gesture for him to lead the way.

Ripples shivered over the lake as they approached it. The grey masses rolling over the sky hung close to the water, watching their own reflections quiver and shake.

James slid his small backpack off of his shoulders and tossed it upon the ground, between the thick roots of the towering tree. But then he changed his mind picked it back up, slinging it back unto his shoulders.

"I've sat under here a couple times," Sara stepped tenderly over the scattered branches, hoping to avoid tripping or receiving a scratch, "The shade is really nice on a hot day."

"Probably." James curled his hands into a small crook on a higher portion of the trunk, and pulled his feet up into some gentle creases in the bark closer to the ground. After a couple seconds of concentrating, he moved his hand and wrapped it around the closest branch. He heave his feet up higher, resulting in a slightly spiderman-esque pose. He moved his other hand to also curl around the branch before hooking the two hands together and shifting them up the branch. Eventually he also brought his legs to wrap around the wood, his skinny frame rocking as he pulled his body up into sitting positon on the branch. His circular shaped glasses hung on the very edge of his nose, but they didn't fall off and that was all he cared about. He pushed them back up before looking back down at Sara, who seemed slightly impressed despite herself.

"You coming?" He called. She swallowed before nodding hastily. She didn't take her backpack off either.

She wrapped her tiny hands around a crook in the trunk, attempting to heave herself up despite her limited upper body strength. Her feet only rose a centimeter back off the ground before they fell back to it. She looked back up at him.

"This isn't going to be very graceful," She warned him. James shrugged.

"Who're you trying to impress?"

"Definitely not you." She agreed. He leaned back against the trunk and closed his eyes, enjoying the dance of the wind over his face.

She wrapped her hands around the crook again. She whipped a leg up to a hole higher in the trunk, resulting in a very awkward, twisted pose. She used the force in that leg to pull her other leg into a gentler crease in the trunk. After a minute of considering what to do next, she let go of the tree with one hand and used it to grab another crease closer to the branch. After struggling in this way for some time, she managed to swing her leg up to the branch on the opposite side of the trunk that James was on. Her hands moved over the bark until her arms were wrapped around the trunk in a a bear hug. She forced her last remaining strength into pulling her butt unto the branch. She grinned despite her flushed face and heaving pants.

"Hello!" She called out to the oblivious boy whose eyes were still closed. James opened his eyes groggily, but they widened when he saw her and he whistled in unexpected appreciation. "Wanna go higher?"

Sara looked down with slight uncertainty in her eyes before nodding decidedly. "Sure." It wasn't very hard for either of them after that – the thick branches were placed close together so they simply twisted their bodies around the trunk as they rose up. James scampered up through the branches faster than she did, almost slipping once but regaining his balance with nonchalant ease and a laugh. Sara proceeded by carefully considering each step, the movement of her feet being made with expert precision.

A thick piece of wood extended from the trunk before splitting off into three separate limbs .It provided an excellent spot for the two of them to sit while still maintaining a distance from each other. Sara leaned against the trunk while James' back faced away from it, but both their legs hung on either side of the wood they sat upon.

"You did it." James remarked. Sara gave a noncommittal 'hm'. They sat in silence for a few minutes.

"You were pretty sure I couldn't." Sara stared out at a group of birds soaring over the sheet of shifting glass.

"Yeah." James admitted.

"You love making assumptions about me." She began picking at a piece of bark that was breaking off from the wood. Maybe James had imagined it, but there was a superiority in that statement that infuriated him.

"Yeah. And obviously you've never done that." James chuckled. Sara paused to look him in the eye.

"I know I have. But I don't go around and force it someone's face."

"You don't have to." James examined the branch. "You just like sitting on your own, thinking you're better than everyone else – way too good to talk to them."

"That is not – " She curled her fingers into fists and straightened up.

"Tell me you don't think you're surrounded by idiots whenever you're in class around other people."

"Not idiots!"

"Idiots. It's obvious. You roll your eyes when anyone else makes a joke, and you think you're too smart or too good to hang out with the other girls or guys, but you keep forgetting the fact that they're all much happier, and a lot less lonely!"

"What do you know about being lonely?" Sara's eyes practically spit. James' jaw dropped.

"You think I've shown you any part of myself?" James voice dipped into a harsh whisper. "I can count my friends on one hand."

"Oh yes, minus the Quidditch team, and your preteen girl fan club, and all the teachers who are tripping over their own feet trying to make things easier for you and – " Sara was almost tripping over her own words.

"Those aren't friends." James's voice dropped into something uncharacteristically solemn and quiet. "You said that yourself." He wrung his fingers together and rolled his shoulders in an aggressive shrug. Sara froze with her mouth hanging open, words teetering on the edge of her tongue. She swallowed them back in as she closed her lips. But James barely even saw her anymore.

"You think you know me so well – everyone thinks they know me so well!" He gave a sharp sigh and squeezed his eyes shut, "They meet me, and they know what to expect, but… they've barely even talked to me! They've… we've never…I've never actually… had a friend who wasn't a Weasley! I mean, I saw people, I talked with them but I never… spent time with them. I practically grew up with Roxy and Fred… and Molly, but she usually just sat in the corner and acted better than us. But other than that… I don't think I've ever… I met muggle kids and kids of people my parents knew… but minus a couple conversations… nothing. Neither have the others – Al's always had Rose, Lily's had Hugo. Dominique and Louis have had a bunch of friends though, but that was after they came to Hogwarts. None of us have never needed anyone outside of the family… but when… when was the last time I told any of them what I was thinking? When was the last time we talked about what we thought – " James broke off suddenly, as if he just realized who he was with. He looked away from Sara, blinking rapidly while attempting to glare.

"Look, I know what you're thinking." He still didn't meet her eyes, "That I'm a silly little boy, that doesn't know what it's like to have anything bad happen to me, and I know that's true – I don't know anything."

"No." Sara didn't move her body at all; she seemed stuck in her position.

"I don't know what it's like to suffer. I don't. I'm just silly and naïve and I dramatize everything – "

"NO." James flinched. Sara extended her hand out, but she paused midway and then retracted it back. "It's what you feel. Feelings can't be wrong."

"Look it doesn't matter." He rubbed his nose. "Just forget it. I'm egotistical, remember? I have a big head and I absolutely love being James Potter." James roughly yanked open his bag and pulled his notebook out. He flipped it open to a blank page and stared at it intensely.

"What's it like being James Potter?" Sara dropped her eyes to her hands, "I don't think I've ever asked."

James started fiddling with the pages of his notebook, an indescribable mass rising in his throat. He felt stupid just realizing it was there. Neither of them said anything for some time.

"Al's always hated being a Potter." James suddenly spoke up, "And he's really open with it too. But come on – who likes being named Albus? Or Albus Severus? The great wizard and the asshole teacher? It's not easy, and everyone knows it." James paused again.

"When I was 5, being a Potter was the best thing in the world. I liked when people talked to me, and called me brave and I liked not getting in trouble for things other people would normally get in trouble for – I felt special. But then… it kinda set. I'm James Potter and I like attention. I like being famous. And I do. Sort of?" He looked a little lost suddenly.

"There's no one who wouldn't want to be special." Sara said.

"I live to fly. And play Quidditch. There's almost nothing I love better than racing through the air – I feel alive. But even that… it's a sport. It's entertainment. It's for other people to watch. I'm a… performer." James suddenly threw his head back and laughed darkly. "I make jokes and I sing songs and I make people laugh."

Sara bit her bottom lip.

"I'm either… what I'm supposed to be, what I should be, what I'm expected to be… or the exact opposite. And in case you haven't noticed… they're kinda the same thing. James Potter was a person, and so was Sirius Black, and so was my dad, and I can't be my dad, and so in between being obsessed with Quidditch and being an arrogant trouble – maker, there's nothing left for me to be." James squeezed his eyes shut, "This is stupid. I'm so stupid. You're gonna say of course I can choose who I am and that I'd rather sit around and feel sorry for myself rather than do anything, but no matter what I do, but I know I'm going to be a disappointment, but I don't want to be forgotten too – I am mischievious and I want to be good at it – " just Sara grabbed one his hands – she seemed just as shocked by it as he did, but she didn't let go. And they sat like that for several agonizingly long minutes, both too confused to form coherent sentences.

"I'm terrified of being a disappointment." She finally admitted, with some visible difficulty. James stared into her deep brown eyes – they were thick, viscous masses. "Mainly… because I never stop feeling like one, and once people expect me to be something, I'm only more terrified. And frustrated… because… they think that's the only part of me there is. It's the only thing I am – and so if I fail… what am I?" She eased her grip on his hand. "What do you know about James Potter? The first one?" James narrowed his eyes.

"I think you've heard enough stories about him." James chuckled.

"Tell me anyway."

"He loved Quidditch. He loved pranking people. He was extremely loyal to his friends… he would do anything for him. Everyone loved him. Except Snape – he hated Snape. He was in love with Lily Evans." James licked his dry lips, "He was a hero. He was brave. He gave up his life for his wife and son." Sara nodded.

"If we go just based on the qualities, that could be Dominique. Or Fred. Or Sirius black. Or your mum."

"He was a white guy."

"So's most of history." She responded with a cheeky grin. "And Lord of the Rings."

"He was really egotistical. Full of himself, but that doesn't matter because his bravery made up for it." James said in a slightly monotone voice.

"Aren't most teenage boys supposed be? I don't think so, but if we just go by stereotypes…"

"Well how am I supposed to respond to that!" James pulled away from her. Sara chuckled.

"Don't. Just listen." She gestured towards the notebook in his lap, flipped open to an empty white page, "Can I see that? I won't look in it." James handed it over reluctantly. She grabbed his pencil and drew an empty white bubble man on the sheet. She then wrote James Potter underneath it. Then she drew another identical bubble man on it, and wrote James Sirius Potter underneath it.

"You know that James Potter like Quidditch, he liked pranking, and that he was brave and loyal. That he loved someone and hated someone. Just like you – you like Quidditch and pranking, you're brave and loyal, and you've both loved someone and hated someone."

"Actually, I'm not very brave."

"Shut up." Sara darkened the outline of the two figures. "But that's not… that's not a person. That's just the shape – but there are thousands of people and pictures with the same shape. It doesn't let you know the color or the patterns or the texture of that shape. It doesn't let you know the actual person that is. They don't know who the first James Potter was, any more than they know who you are."

"What else do you need to know? He was brave and loyal. That's the person he was."

"Well…" Sara chewed on her bottom lip, "The first James Potter… what was his favorite ice cream flavor?"

"Huh?"

"Did he like sunrises or sunsets?"

"Sara…"

Did he wake up early or sleep in until noon? What did he eat for breakfast? What part of his… face or body did he secretly dislike? What part of Lily Evans did he admire? Who was his least favorite professor? What did he not like about his friends? What was his favorite color? What was his favorite book?" Sara took another deep breath.

"James Sirius Potter isn't… defined by flying, or pranking. That's just the outline." Sara darkened the outline of the figure some more, "But he's James Sirius Potter because he wakes up at 4 am and irritates everyone else when he does that, and even though his shirt's really wrinkled and he won't tie his tie right I know he's one of the neatest and cleanest people I've met – besides my mother. He's James Sirius Potter because he sticks his tongue out when he's thinking… because he only eats a blueberry bagel with hot butter for breakfast, because while he brags over how charming he is he still blushes when a girl flirts with him – and that's when he actually notices. He deals with anxiety by tapping his fingers, hands and feet to create some annoying rhythm which is actually kind of catchy – and he always runs his hands through his hair obsessively. And he's James Sirius Potter because while he loves flying…he's an artist too. He spends his time drawing incredible cartoons in the margins of his potions textbook, and I don't know… but I have hunch he can draw realistic pictures too."

By the end of the long rant, James' eyes were wide and his mouth was hanging open. He swallowed in an attempt to regain his composure, but his mouth just fell open again.

"You noticed that?" Sara shrugged, but a tiny blush colored both her face and James'.

"I'm observant. And I have a good memory." She looked a way and scratched the back of her head. "It's just random stuff, but it makes you the human being you are… like Fred always eats French toast with maple syrup on it for breakfast, and Roxanne loves gold eyeliner and –" Sara started to ramble.

"You chew your bottom lip when you're anxious." James surprised himself, "Or when you're thinking really hard – which is a lot." James grinned, "You love eggs so much – you always eat them for breakfast, and you eat them at lunch and dinner a lot of the time too. You're proud of being a feminist, and you're always late for break fast because you always accidentally sleep in. Sometimes you only have 5 minutes to eat. You chew your nails too and you run you hands through your hair obsessively too. You write as much as you read… poetry, and maybe stories, and probably beautiful things anyone would die to read. And you scribble over everything – especially your hands and skin. Lots of boxes and lines and patterns running all around you. You just doodle all over yourself while you're reading or working… and you're so messy it's hilarious. Your penmanship is atrocious and I've looked in your bag to find papers scattered together all over the place."

"Why does everyone expect me to be neat? I'm capable of organizing my time and responsibilities, and my assignments aren't late! I can be as messy as I like after that!"

"It's just..." James shook his head fondly, "You're never what people… you're never what I expect you to be."

"Says the boy who pretends not to know how to tie his tie so people'll think he's messy." Sara smirked and James looked away to hide his smile.

"Did he draw?" Sara suddenly asked, "The first James Potter?" James shrugged.

"I don't know. He might've."

"Well even if he did…it can't be the same." Sara said decidedly, "Because he saw a different world. What you see… it's so incredibly unique. No one is going to see the world the way you do. You experience different emotions when you see the world, so you express it in different ways. Which already makes you a different person. It isn't what the world sees in you that makes you different. It's what you see in the world." James looked at her in awe.

"I should…" He attempted, "I should write that last part down." James ran his hands through his hair. "I wonder… I wonder what he saw… James Potter. I never really thought much into his… favorite ice cream flavour." James gently took the notebook from Sara and flipped to a new page. He started sketching an ice cream cone.

"We idealize them…and sort of forget the stuff that made them… people just like us," Sara watched him draw. His hands moved with a simultaneous grace and precision.

"My favorite ice cream flavour's vanilla." James admitted suddenly. Sara's head whipped up.

"You told everyone it was a chocolate!"

"Vanilla seemed a little too plain. I mean, would someone as insane and incredible as Sirius Black have liked vanilla?" Sara tilted her head and honestly considered it.

"If you do, then there's a good chance he did too." Sara said, "I wonder what other things you lied about." James shrugged with an imperceptible blush touching the edge of his cheeks, but Sara didn't notice.

"You'll just have to find out. What's your favorite ice cream flavour?"

"Strawberry." Sara admitted, shyness creeping upon the corners of her smile.

"Strawberry?" James looked mildly taken aback. "But you don't really like strawberries…"

"I know!" Sara shrugged with a chuckle, "It's so weird, but I adore strawberry ice cream! But my favorite fruits are grapes."

"Mine're bananas." Sara tilted her head and squinted.

"Yeah." She nodded, "I see it. You're a banana person."

"What on earth does that mean?" James snorted.

"I have no idea, but I just feel a love for bananas radiating off of you."

"You sense stuff about me."

"Well I don't sit around and contemplate what fruit you eat in your spare time, if that's what you're thinking, but now that you mention it, I can imagine you on a couch enjoying a banana."

"Well I sense that you're a tea person, who pretends she's a coffee person."

"Wrong. I hate both."

"You hate tea?" James' jaw dropped, "What are you? It is the most beautiful drink of humanity!"

"Tea is glorified water." She tilted her head, "Except the tea Indians drink. Chai. It has milk in it. But still – glorified water."

"So's everything! You are a mass of glorified water!" Sara threw her head back an laughed. She didn't have a soft or tinkly laugh. It was powerful, and James felt warmer at the sound of it. But he couldn't forgive the comment on tea.

"Tea is a pretentious drink." Sara said, "But I suppose tea would be better than coffee."

"I hate coffee." James began energetically, "Why drink something bad, which you have to make sort of good by putting a heap of sugar in it?" Sara nodded enthusiastically.

"I don't understand the whole acquired taste thing. If it tastes like crap, I don't see why I should drink it for another 6 months to make it better! It is not that important – I can just drink what I like!"

"I know!" James smacked his leg, "It's such an arrogant drink that think's it's better than everyone else!"

"It's like people – if a person is horrible to be around, I'm not going to force myself to spend time with them so I can get used to them for another six months, because I might get used to them in the future!"

"Exactly! You'll just hang out with people you actually like!"

"Exactly!" Sara echoed, her eyes bright with merriment.

"Forks or spoons?" James asked decidedly.

"Forks. You?"

"Spoons!" James had a duh tone to his voice. "You can use a spoon for everything!"

"With forks you can stab people." Sara grinned.

"Can't argue with that logic." James snorted."What's your favorite season?"

"Autumn." Sara sighed, swinging her legs, "The colors are beautiful, obviously, but there's always a couple days in the season where when the sun passes through the leaves, and they're… like… illuminated. And I love hearing the crunch when I step on the leaves scattered over the ground. And James, I love the way the chilly air just seems to hold me in a blanket. What about you?"

"Spring." He replied. "I love walking bare foot over the grass, because it's so moist and muddy and damp. The water just seeps through my toes ad even tickles me a little bit. And then from there I'll fly up into the sky on my broom – Sara, there is something so fresh about the air in spring! You feel more free just moving through it…" Sara tilted her head and examined him.

"I love rain…" Sara said, "I love when it's pouring and pounding..."

"And you love standing underneath it and getting absolutely drenched?" James finished with a smile.

"Yeah…" She nodded. "You?"

"I enjoy rain at times, but it's murder when I'm trying to play Quidditch, so I stick to wind. I love it when the wind is blowing so hard it feels like it's going to lift you off the ground…. Like you can fly away if you want to, without a broom." He threw his arms open, inhaled a deep breath of frigid air, and leaned back slightly on the branch, "This is my life."

"It's really beautiful." Sara murmured.

"Powerful." James corrected.

"That's the same thing." Sara smiled.

"Touché," James nodded, "I love staring out at the sky when there's a storm."

"It's even better when you open a window. It's so much louder." Sara leaned back against the tree and closed her eyes. Her hair was now flying over her face and brushing against her skin, tangling together. James had to resist the temptation to push it behind her ear; he even let himself wonder for a moment if it would feel as soft as it seemed if he wove his hands through it.

"Ok…sunrise or sunset?" He shoved the other thoughts away, hoping they'd lose themselves in the wind. They met each other's eyes and for one single second, they were in a state of complete and utter agreement.

"STARS!" They both yelled in an attempt be first, before dissolving into peals of laughter.

---

"And then she said, 'Oh Sara'," Sara paused her high pitched imitation to take another large bit from her chocolate bar, "The poor boy just has a crush on you – don't be so hard on him, he's just having difficult time expressing his emotions."

"I do not have a crush on you." James lay flat on his back upon the grass, munching on some chocolate of his own. They had climbed down a while ago, and were enjoying the shade beneath the rustling leaves. Some of the clouds had cleared up, so some feeble rays of light were shivering down upon them. "If I had a crush on you, you'd already been in love me, because you wouldn't have been able to resist my romantic charms."

"Do your charms include that time you serenaded a potted plant?" James wrinkled his nose.

"No." He muttered.

"Very smart of you – asking out something that couldn't respond. Anything with an actual voice… or a brain… would've obviously said no."

"I was… that was a joke." James grumbled.

"Do you mean to tell me the great James Potter was pranked?"

"So what else did that stupid seventh year say!" James sighed loudly, "I'm just dying to know."

"Well there I was, telling her my woes of the idiotic boy with old man circle glasses – "

"You really do love talking about me."

"Let's pretend you didn't practically drag me out here." Sara gave him a pointed look.

"Let's pretend you're not actually enjoying it." James began licking his fingers for any remaining chocolate. Sara didn't respond to that.

"And she was saying, Oh Sara!" James snorted at Sara's high – pitched, squeaky imitation, "Yes the boy might've taken away your voice, and turned it into waling baby, but that's alright, because the poor boy can't control himself around you." Sara threw her hands up in the air.

"You know, I put a lot of energy and thought into irritating you. I don't like it being thought of as a heat of the moment thing."

"I would love to smack you with a book, and when she asks why I'll say, 'I couldn't control myself around him'. I was just having difficulty expressing my emotions."

"I'd willingly accept a smack over the head just to hear you say that to her."

"It's a dumb thing to teach girls. Have crushes on guys that treat you like crap. Cause that's cute." She rolled her eyes.

"Sara, why're you a feminist?" James rolled unto his stomach. Sara reeled away in sudden anger. James realized his mistake with a jolt, and he threw himself up as he did.

"No no no no no I'm so so sorry I didn't mean it like that not in a mean way, but a curious way, 'cause I care a lot too – I'm a feminist! My mom would disown me if I wasn't – I just thought there would be a reason why you care for, like some environmentalists have their favorite tree cut down when they're six and the experience inspires them for the rest of their life so I was just wondering if there was a backstory that – "

"James!" Sara bit her lip to suppress a laugh. He glasses had slipped to the end of his nose during his rant. "It's ok. I get it."

"Sorry." James relaxed slightly, "So… is there?" Sara shrugged.

"When I was a kid, I really hated being a girl." James tilted his head.

"That's probably the opposite of what I was expecting." Sara laughed uneasily. She shrugged again, her cheeks tinted pink.

"Stuff… kids around me said… stuff grown – ups said around me… stuff my family… my dad said around me… and just how they all treated women…in real life, in TV shows, in movies… I thought it meant being weak. I thought it was a bad thing. It meant being silly. Superficial. Not much purpose, not very strong, and not very much of anything other than pretty. And everything they did revolved around guys. The only girls who did interesting things didn't want to be girls. They always tried to be as much of a guy as they could." James' mouth was a little dry.

"Oh," James swallowed, "Oh." Sara shrugged.

"I'm not weak." She said, "I'm not… silly. I'm not weak. I used to dream of being a boy – i thought it would solve a lot. I'd get to be thought of as strong, I'd get to be important, I'd get to be my own character in my own story, instead of a dim witted love interest or a useless cardboard cut out – which was girls seemed to be."

"And then?" Sara looked away.

"Just… stuff. I guess I've always been dancing to someone else's song, and trying to escape what you are cause of what they say is the same thing as being what they want you to be…and books." She added, "Always books. There were girls who kicked everybody's butt, and I wanted to be them. And they never tried to hide that they were a girl – they fought for who they were a lot. Always said what they thought and didn't take crap from sexist pigs. Or anyone. I started actually thinking being a girl wasn't a bad thing, and I guess I don't do things half way… so I wanted to fight for it in every way I could. Be obsessive."

"Sara," On an impulses James grabbed her hand and squeezed it, "You're gonna kick all of their sexist asses." James nodded with excitement, eagerly imagining the scenario unfolding before him, "While saying something sarcastic… and while you do it, I'm gonna be laughing at them – so hard! And I'll punch them a couple times if you're in the mood – not that you need my help." He nodded decidedly and Sara's cheeks turned a little pink.

"Right back at you Potter." She laughed softly, "James." James met her deep eyes before suddenly dropping her hand and pulling away.

"Look…" James raked his hands through his hair, "I'm sorry… about the things I said." Sara waved his words away.

"No…that stuff I said about your father… it wasn't right." James looked towards her abruptly with wide eyes.

"I didn't care."

"I don't think that's true."

"Well either way, it shouldn't matter, because if you felt it, then it's probably true, I already know that's why everyone enjoys being around me and – "

"It's not true." Sara said stubbornly, "I just wanted it to be."

"Maybe." James shrugged. "Probably is though."

"I'm saying who your father is caught their attention, but you were the one that kept it." James began to wonder why all conversations were leading back to him.

"Sara." He interjected evenly before she could continue, "Do you feel lonely sometimes?" Sara froze momentarily before continuing.

"As much as anyone else." James nodded. Sara licked her lips and continued, "I like reading and writing and like walking around in silence, watching the world, and…" She trailed off. "I just…" She started running her finger over the bark, "I don't trust people. And that can make it lonely sometimes, even if you talk to people and have friends."

"but it's a little fun isn't it?" James smiled sardonically, "Being lonely and pretending you're not? You feel a little powerful, when no one else can tell what you're feeling?"

"Yes." Sara smirked, "Almost as fun being scared and no one realizing it. They think you're strong and… feels so delightful to know they can't hear your heart pounding or your mind telling you – "

"It's all a bad idea? Yes." James mused, "That is my favorite indeed. I laugh about it sometimes afterwards, how good I am at lying."

"I bet I can lie better." Sara smiled sweetly.

"No way. You wouldn't even think that I may sometimes not like attention. You hadn't even considered it."

"Well you wouldn't think that I break curfew to go flying on a broom, would you?" Sara raised her brow with a touch of sass, but James snorted.

"Yeah, cause you don't! "

"That is what you think…" She began humming a tune. James blinked before shaking his head.

"No!" James continued to shake his head furiously while covering his ears with his hand comically, "You're not gonna confuse me enough to let you win – no no no!"

Sara rolled her eyes. "You also wouldn't think I want a motorcycle one day. And a tattoo on my hip. And a pixie cut like your cousin Dominique." Se almost giggled with glee.

"Merlin woman, you're messing with the mind." James shook his head in awe. Sara reclined back unto the ground, a self – satisfied smile growing on her face.

After some time of lying there she spoke up again. "I used to get bullied a lot." She blurted out. James fingers hovered "People used to walk over me like I was trash." Sara continued, "Insult me and pick on me."

James fingered the grass, keep his intense gazes on Sara's lowered eyelids.

"How?" he whispered with confusion. Sara shrugged and smiled a little cynically.

"I wasn't the most assertive. Or the most… anything really."

"I don't believe that." James said. Sara snorted.

"No. trust me. People could drive me to tears and I still wouldn't do anything."

"No, I mean… that's hard to believe too… but I mean… I don't believe you just woe up one day and became a sarcastic badass." Sara snorted again, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"me? A badass? You think I'm a badass?" There was a hesitant hopefulness in her voice

"I didn't." James nodded, "But that just slipped out… and I just realized it's kind of true…" Sara paused.

"I really want to be a badass!" She blurted it out, while biting her bottom lip. Her eyes were shining with a slight desperation.

"I mean a smartass for sure… but… you… maybe one day in the far… far future…could be a badass…" james mused. "But seriously. You didn't just magically grow a personality."

"No…" Sara acknowledged, "I always me in my head, but other people seemed to think… no, actually…. The people I know have forgotten by now. It's like… if you ssomeone something new, it doesn't take them long to convince themselves it was always like that. One way or the other."

"But when did you start… growing more… what we know you as?"

"When I was around nine. I realized no one was gonna stand up to me." She grabbed a fistful "So I became my own hero. And I liked it." Sara smirked, "I liked it very much. I love it when someone's scared of messing with me."

"Sara – I'm going to say this once, so you better enjoy it. No one would dare mess with you, cause you're powerful. And you know what… that doesn't have anything to do with talking or yelling at people. It's not even cause you're smart. It's… because you're incredible… incredibly unique. You're your own person wit your own dang opinions – which makes you 10 times the person most grown - ups think they are." Sara sat there open-mouthed.

"No… I…" Sara waited for him to retract his statement but he just watched her earnestly, refusing to do so with his eyes. "Thank you." She managed feebly.

"Sara…" James twirled a flower between his finger, "What's your family like?" Sara's jaw tightened.

"Normal. My parents didn't save the world, if that's what you're asking."

"You're an only child." James prompted. "I know that."

"Yeah. No internal turmoil about it, I can assure you."

"You never wanted siblings?" Sara shrugged.

"Not much I can do about it, but I am a little too busy taking care of myself." Sara crossed her arms, "My mom wanted another kid though."

"And your dad?" Sara gave a sharp, sarcastic laugh.

"He didn't want any in the first place." She seemed to regret the words the minute they left her mouth.

"Lucky him." James said without thinking, leading Sara to turn towards him in confusion.

"I mean," James corrected, "if I had gotten something – someone – so amazing and smart and strong, that I hadn't even asked for or even thought of having… I'd really be a lucky bastard."

"James…" Sara wrung her hands, before shaking her head and staying silent.

"What're they like? Your parents?

"My mom…" Sara mused, "Is a strong woman who makes things happen. She's a perfectionist in everything – way more than I am cause she's also a neat freak and is obsessed with twenty other things that I never think about – and she always fights to get what she wants. We're both really stubborn, so we argue a lot. But she's… one of the most important people in my life. The most important actually."

"And your dad?" Sara shrugged.

"He's… smart. Book smart. Intelligent. A really good talker."

"He… didn't want kids?"

"Well, it's kind of Indian social expectation to have kids. It's more that he… doesn't want to be bothered by them." Sara crinkled her eyebrows, "I don't know why I just told you that."

"Do you… get along?" James felt something stirring within him – it wasn't uneasiness. It was almost… protectiveness. Which was odd, because this girl was the last one who need protecting.

"Yes." Sara nodded, "Enough."

"I always thought you'd be a daddy's girl," James found himself saying, "Like my sister… I can see you running up to him and telling him about this asshole who's butt you kicked and him just smiling and saying, that's my girl…"

"Yeah…" Sara smiled a little wistfully, "I would be a great daddy's girl. But either way, he's more into quiet, docile women. Who'll fetch him his slippers and make him feel bigger and stronger than he really is. Makes it difficult for my mom."

"He's sexist?" James was suddenly angry.

"Everyone in the world feels a little sexist sometimes…" Sara watched her fingers, "Just in different ways… but I suppose the things that bother you always become really obvious, whether it's racism or littering or Twilight fans."

"He's sexist." James sat there with a dumb look on his face. Sara paused, realizing her mistake.

"It's not a big deal." Sara pulled herself off the grass and started ruffling through her bag, not meeting his eyes.

"He has one of the bravest, smartest daughters in the world, but he's sexist…" James' eyes widened, "Wait… did he… does he… does he say mean things?"

"James, will you please just shut up?" She snapped.

"Is that it?"

"That's it?" Sara scoffed, "You pick a random idea after 5 minutes of discussing my life, and you think you understand it? You don't need to act like you've discovered a big secret, 'cause you haven't!"

"What did he do?"

"None of your business!"

"If you tell me, I can help!" Sara laughed sardonically at that.

"Oh that's just – "

"I'm dead serious."

"No, dead Sirius is buried in the ground."

"Don't make this a joke!"

"This conversation's a joke! Just last week you tried to turn my skin blue!"

"That doesn't mean I don't care about your problems!"

"Don't you understand that I said no!" James froze with his mouth open. He closed it slowly, licking his lips and nodding. He nodded for a little longer than necessary, attempting to gather his thoughts.

"I…" James breathed heavily, but Sara just started combing her hands through her hair, "Just… not me but… maybe… if you give people... the chance to be good, or kind…they'll do things that surprise you… they might be good for you if you open up to them… just a little." James looked away. "Probably not me."

"I'm not good at half way stuff." Sara replied tonelessly. "I don't know how to start, and I don't know how to stop." She shook her head, "Look… nothing's wrong. Okay? So don't dwell please." She sounded a little pleading at the end, but she kept her eyes hard.

"Well…" James paused, "We could just gorge on Bernie Bott's Every Flavour Beans and make fun of annoying people?" It was a feeble attempt, but he was trying.

"You mean laugh at each other?" Sara smiled weakly.

"Well I was thinking about just laughing at you…" Sara laughed and James grinned, because it wasn't okay, but all he wanted to do in that moment was hear her laugh.

---

"I can't believe it. I can't believe it!" Sara shook her head, her face flushed from laughing, "You actually watched Titanic."

"It's not my fault! Teddy and Vic were in one of their romantic phases, and since they I was just stuck there I had to watch it! They even had a snog session in the middle of it, and I still couldn't move!"

"Merlin, you have no taste."

"You watched it!"

"To sound more informed when I insulted it!"

"Who watches movies to insult them?" James snorted.

"Well who follows people they don't like just to offend them?" James paused.

"Touche…" He nodded with an impressed pair of pursed lips. "But merlin, that movie was a three hour long snooze fest."

"I know!" She threw her hands up into the air. "It was absolutely ridiculous."

"The main girl… Rose or whatever… she annoyed me. Like I felt bad for her, but I couldn't like her after she throw a billion dollar rock into the ocean. I mean… wasn't her boyfriend penniless… wouldn't the cause of poverty have touched her heart in some way…?"

"I KNOW!" Sara's eyes popped out comically and James guffawed. "She just – she just – she just…tossed it! That stupid necklace could've fed thousands of families, but no - she wanted to make a statement about her six day fling with someone she didn't even know." Sara huffed.

"I still don't understand why they both couldn't fit on the stupid board." James rolled his eyes, "Vic and Teddy were just crying their eyes out and I was waiting for Rose to budge over and let him on."

"Mythbusters proved that they both could have been on the raft and survived." Sara nodded, "They did all the tests and everything."

"That's so stupid." James froze suddenly before blushing a little, "I always wondered another thing… but when I asked Vic slapped me."

"Uh huh?" Sara hesitated.

"When Jack and Rose were in that… car, uh… doing… um…" James blushed.

"Reproducing?" Sara offered with slightly pink cheeks.

"Yeah that… how the hell did the windows get that foggy? Like it looked like there was a sauna in there."

Sara thought for a moment. "I have absolutely no clue." The awkwardness prevented them from saying anything for a couple seconds before James forced himself to break it.

"What would've Rose done if she actually got pregnant and they'd lived?"

"I'm more concerned with what she would've done once she realized Jack didn't do laundry – I bet they'd have had the shortest honeymoon in history."

"Honey, what do you mean we don't have a house?" James did an extremely high pitched rendition of the seventeen-year-old socialite. Some sixth year Ravenclaws walking by gave them an odd look, and it wasn't just because Sara and James had never been seen conversing with each other on their own as of they were… "hanging out".

"I draw pictures of prostitutes for a living, remember?" Sara dropped her voice into a exaggerated low sound, "I came to America after winning a gambling game."

"But where do we sleep?" James sounded like he was about to break out into hysterically sobs as he whirled around with his arms flailing about. Sara had to press her hands to her mouth to hold her snickers in. "What clothes am I supposed to wear?"

"Don't worry, I didn't hang around to see you in clothes anyway." Sara chortled in what she probably thought was "masculine".

James fell unto his back from laughing so hard.

---

"What's the worst thing you hate about people?" James asked as he picked a green Bernie Bott's Every Flavour Bean out of the bag and held it up for her to see.

"Well first of all, grass." Sara replied. She then took it from him and popped it into her mouth.

"They always do what they're told." She continued as she began to chew it, "Most of us believe exactly what we learn, and we don't really ever question it. Whether it's racism or sexism or what they're supposed to be. We don't think for ourselves." Sara suddenly winced. "Not grass. Seaweed." She shuddered.

"You suck at this." Sara stuck out her green tongue as James made a tally mark on the score sheet under his name. Sara picked a grey one from the bag.

"You?" She asked.

"First of all, pepper. And also, they're lazy. Which is why they try to find shortcuts in understanding people. They'll look at someone's shirt, and then decide if they're responsible or not. They'll look at someone's skin, and decide whether they're trustworthy. They'll look at someone's blood and decide if they're smart. They'll look at someone's family, and decide what shirt color is their favorite. Then they'll use that to decide how well they are with potions!" "They're so lazy." James repeated. "Me especially. That's the worst of it."

"That is the worst of it." Sara nodded, "Knowing we're no better than anyone else."

"Yeah. We suck."

"We should put that on a T – shirt."

"Yeah, but instead of wearing it, we should just give it to those annoying twins in third year."

"Yeah, but first we have to write 'each other' on the bottom." Sara finished.

James sniggered, which resulted in him accidently choking on an every flavoured bean.

"Does that mean I win?" Sara asked innocently. James glared before pulling out a handful and throwing them at her.

"It was pepper actually." James rubbed his nose with his hand. Sara pulled out her wand with a sinister smile on her face.

Oh dear…

---

Nobody would have believed him if he told them that he had completely forgotten the reason he had originally dragged Sara out here. Because somewhere in between pouring his heart out and watching her get excited about how much she hated the Titanic movie and guessing the flavour of Bernie Bott's Every Flavour beans before eating them, he had… felt so at home. And so at six o clock when she glanced at the darkening sky and suggested them heading back for dinner, it hit him upon his head like a bag of bricks. His heart beat so hard as they dusted themselves off, praying toevery God imaginable that they would still be laughing with each other in this way after an hour.

"James… what are we?" She asked as they collected their stuff.

"Is that another philosophical question, cause 'what's the purpose of life' kind of sucked most of it out of me." James was desperately hoping Fred hadn't done much and that Sara would only roll her eyes when she saw it. She'll laugh. James tried to convince himself. She'll laugh, and I'll laugh, and then we'll make more fun of romantic movies while we tease each other.

"No…" She gestured between them, "What are we?"

"I… I have no idea." James sighed. "Were we ever really enemies?"

"For the first month, yes." Sara nodded decidedly, "I called you my arch nemesis to my mother, so that sort of sealed the deal."

"Yeah… I did that too, except I referred to you as the bane of the universe I was responsible for destroying to protect humanity."

"Well you always did have a flair for dramatics." Sara rolled her eyes. "But I did mention something similar to my dentist once."

"After the first month though?" Hopefulness slipped into his voice.

"I…" Sara swallowed,

"Were we ever friends?" James pressed. Sara shrugged slowly.

"Maybe… maybe for the last couple of hours." Sara looked away.

"I'd like that!" The words shot out from James' mouth. Sara turned back and searched through his eyes. She only saw earnest honesty.

"Would you…?"

"Yeah." James sounded a little desperate, "I really would."

"Then…" Sara reached forward and tenderly touched her hand to his shoulder "Maybe we could leave the archenemy stuff as… our 9 – 5 weekday job."

"The world does need saving." James laughed nervously.

"We could… take some time off on the weekends to not… hate each other."

"Yes!" He breathed with relief.

"But if you interrupt me while I'm writing an essay, I will kill you." Sara's tone became businesslike.

"I'm sure we can schedule that in." James snickered.

---

James wanted to smack Fred. Then punch him. Then throw him off the North Tower.

Because the entire common room was decorated with pictures of Sara, all with moustaches and talons and a series of other unflattering depictions. There were captions written all of them (like "The Harpy Gives Birth" under a picture where Fred had drawn her throwing up) and some of them had mocking notes written beneath. They were rather unprofessional and childish – an act that would normally make Sara snort and roll her eyes rather than truly feel offended. But the problem with this was not the end, but the means James had used to get there.

Sara viewed it initially with confusion, and she even turned to James in the first moments of uncertainty. Suddenly, realization began to flood through her eyes. She turned again to meet his, searching for confirmation. James opened his mouth helplessly, but couldn't force anything from his lips as he stared at her brown orbs narrowing and her eyebrows crunching together and a slight gasp escaping her mouth. Sara's jaw dropped in what James realized was the first time he had ever seen her truly shocked. She closed her mouth and swallowed, twisting her lips into closed mouth sneer.

"Well." She watched him with crisp coldness, "That must have taken some time."

"Fred…" James breathed.

"Must have spent a lot of time on it." Sara nodded with exaggerated understanding. "He is very diligent." Sara even smiled cheerily with all her teeth shining ominously for a moment, and James felt his stomach drop 10 feet within himself.

"Sara, I swear, I thought – " James eyes were wide and pleading, but Sara barked with dark amusement.

"Yeah, I thought a lot too that I shouldn't have." Sara gazed around at the others in the common room, some of who were realizing the tense atmosphere shifting into the room

"Great day for it." Sara raised her voice slightly, which quivered with an emotion James couldn't decipher, "With the Hogsmeade trip… all the prefects and older students are gone, no one to see… but of course you do want them to see, right? A nice surprise when someone comes back with…" Sara's voice dropped into a montone "

"I'll take it all down before dinner," James promised, "Then I'll tell professor Longbottom what happened, and I'll take the detentions for months if I have to. I'll do your essays and assignments and I'll beat anyone up if you ask me to – Sara, I promise I'll do anything you want. I don't care if it gets me in trouble or if – " Sara was barely listening.

"Why? "You think I care? You think I give a damn what anyone some random stranger or enemy says about me? I don't care what you say about me!" Sara's voice was almost a whisper, but it felt like she was screaming. "You're not my friend, who could actually be able to hurt me if he wanted! I don't care what you say." She spat the words out. James stepped forward, reaching out to take her arm but Sara snapped it away.

"Don't," Sara continued to step away, her face twisted with fury. "Just don't."

"Sara…" James sighed, "I know it may not mean much… and you can hate me for everything… but I'm so sorry." More and more people were beginning to gawk and whisper at the scene.

"No." She breathed, "You're really not." James didn't respond, because he had absolutely no clue on how to change her mind.

"So…" Her two rows of teeth grinded against each other, "It was all a… coordinated plan?" She almost giggled, which was the most terrifying part of it all.

"it…" James sighed, "It…

"Was." Her breaths were furious exhalations, "It was. It was a little plan you both came up with because you thought it would be so much fun." Suddenly she her eyes widened, "Did Roxy… Roxanne know too?"

While it may seem odd, Roxanne often did have some vague idea when Sara and James were about to do something mildly emotionally dangerous to each other. She usually just rolled her eyes and reminded James of the bruises he'd receive if he'd carry out his ridiculous plan. James never listened, and neither did Sara probably, but both considered Roxanne a neutral third party in these situations.

"Barely." James said.

"She did." Sara nodded her head, "Of course she did. You all thought it would be so funny, feeding me this bull –headed story about how you're lonely, and how everyone judged you and how you hated being harry Potter's son." She almost yelled. James' blood ran cold, because at that moment all the conversations and laughter died down into shocked silence. He felt blood flow to his cheeks, and his body was suddenly itching to run away from everyone's amazed eyes.

"You know… you love it don't you?" Her eyes were burning bright with a crazen fervour he hadn't seen before, and his released a new flood of emotions into his blood. But she paid no heed. "You love being entertainment, because there's nothing else you can be. You love it when people look at you, and laugh at you, and you love being famous because you're a selfish brat, who thinks everything's about him and what he likes and how much better than everyone else he is because he's James Sirius Potter."

"Shut up." James voice dropped into fierce whisper.

"No." Sara stepped forward and gazed straight into his eyes. Brown met hazel; two irises filled with so much outrage and so much betrayal all at once. "No, because I'm right, I'm so right I don't know how I could have been so wrong before."

"You didn't know shit then, and you don't know shit now!" His voice spiralled up, shocking everyone in the room, all who had never seen James anywhere near angry. Sara flinched, but she didn't budge. "You're a child, Sara Barjati, thinking everything's about you and how you feel. You don't care how you make anyone feel because no matter what happens you have to be better than them."

"Well I never bothered pretending. Never bothered pretending someone was my friend, never bothered pretending I cared one little bit about them!"

"Like you cared about me." James snarled.

"No. I don't and I never will. And no one ever could because no one could love or be anywhere near a self – absorbed liar who was born to something he will never be good enough to deserve."

"No one could ever survive being around an who's too busy worrying about how some 5 year olds in the past bullied her, thinking people hate her because she's a silly girl, when it's really because you're so boring and talentless you can only pretend to write you pathetic rhymes to pretend you're thinking anything new or interesting!"

"Whereas you're too busy pretending to draw your lopsided doodles while you pretend to be a lonely artist who no one understands because you're so misunderstood – you're a weak – willed who could never be interesting or brave or smart or talented on his own – but that doesn't matter to you. You're nothing, and you will never be as good as your father, and you'll never even try to be – "

"How dare you…?" James growled.

"Easily." Their bright red noses were almost touching, and they could feel each other's hot breath blowing upon their skin.

"I hate you so much." James voice trembled, barely above a whisper, "Because you're weak!" James' stomach twisted as a light flashed through Sara's eyes. "You're weak and silly and no wonder your daddy doesn't want you – because who in the world would?"

Sara slapped him. Or tried to. It wasn't very hard, but the ferocity in it left a sting in places other than James' face.

When he turned back towards her, James heard something that resembling a choked up sob, but she was already gone. After a few moments, he was too. The left a common room covered with Sara's photos and a crowd of gobsmacked Gryffindors. The tale spread over the school like wildfire within less than an hour.

---

"I don't care that you two are first years." Disappointment was carved upon Neville Longbottom's face. "Because for some idiotic reason, you are the two students the most people, even in the years above you… look up to reference on how to act."

James sat slouched in the chair in front of them, his head resting in his hand, boredom swirling in his eyes as he rolled them. Sara's back was high and erect in the seat beside him, but she kept her hard eyes fixed upon the door Professor Longbottom's door. He was normally her favorite teacher, and he had a soft spot for her he didn't have for anyone else, but he was one of the few teachers who didn't let Sara off easy on her mouthing off and rebelliousness because of her marks or charm.

"Holding a screaming match in the Gryffindor common room…" He rubbed his face with his hands, "Don't think I've forgotten Fred's redecorating session – but all of this is behaviour that is so beneath you two intelligent and clever – "

"Just hand us our detentions." James exclaimed loudly over his professor. Neville shook his head in disapproval. "We really don't care what you have to say about getting along. We never will."

"James." Neville sighed, "I expect so much more from you."

"Don't." Sara snapped, "Because you're just wasting your breath. There's nothing you can do about us. We'll clean out the trophy room every week if you want it. But not much else is gonna happen."

James nodded stiffly. Neither turned to meet each other's eyes. Neville just stared, completely at a loss for how to clever students could be so blind to their own actions.

"What do you two see when you look at yourselves?" There was almost a sense of tired defeat in his voice, "Two smart, clever individuals? Strong? Brave? Because right now, you to are the opposite of Gryffindors." Don't worry. James thought. I already know I'm worthless. Sara made sure of that. "…You're just children, who don't know the first thing about each other – but you still continue to judge each other as if you know anything." James practically barked with laughter.

"Trust me, it wasn't worth trying." James muttered. Sara scoffed at that.

"if you consider lying for your own entertainment as trying." Sara used finger quotations for the last word.

"I'd do anything to make that up to you!" James growled, "But you don't care to take me up on the offer – you'd rather insult me and parade my secrets to the entire common room."

"Yes, cause you were obviously s against involving the common room in your pranks! You lied – you think I trust you now?"

"Fine then – we already said there's nothing we can do!"

"Fine!" They spun around in their seats so they were once again facing away from each other. Neville just squeezed his eyes shut and massaged his temples.

"One month of detentions." He sighed, "You'll do them separately and alternate. That includes cleaning the trophy room, being teachers' personal aides…" He continued to drone on.

Sara and James pushed past each other as each one tried to get out of the room first.

"God I hate you." Sara whispered with fervour.

"Don't worry." James quipped angrily, "He's not my favorite person either. But you're worse."

And that set the next 6 tumultuous years in motion.

---

REPEAT OF THE AN AT THE BEGINNING - - - - - - - IMPORTANT - So sometime in April I published the chapter with Draco and Astoria, Scorpius getting bullied by Madgewick and the Weasleys deciding to prank her. Then in early AUGUST I published a chapter with Harry, Ron and Hermione, Hagrid and Scorpius, and the Weasleys (and Sara) carrying out the prank - this was the chapter that REPLACED an AN that i posted in July explaining the future updating schedule. THIS chapter was supposed to be the reaction to the prank and a Quidditch game, but I started it off with the flashback of Sara and James' first year. Because the flashback became very long, I just published it individually as it's own chapter (primarily centered around James). I know I've been jumping between many characters in the last few chapters so I PROMISE the next chapter will be SOLELY focused on Al, Rose, and Scorpius - PINKY SWEAR. As for now though, enjoy the chapter and *try* not to be too critical in judging the characters - they're only twelve, even if they're rather mature in they're outlook on life.

EXTRA AN FOR THE END OF THE CHAPTER - - - - - - - - - I'm really scared cause i don't know how any of you are going to react to this chapter. Soem of you might hate the characters, blame one character over the other, or think they're a little too mature in how they view life. But I just hope that you can read it with an open mind - understand that they're both rather lonely people who never confide how they feel to anyone, so they both feel very betrayed by each others words and reactions - and they're argument in front of the common room was very humiliating for both of them. And when it comes to their conversation - I think personally that they would be mature enough to have that serious of a conversation - cause they've been thinking about these things for a long time. Next chapter I promise will be based on Rose, Al and Scorpius, but I hope this chapter was a welcome change that surprised you a little. PLEASE REVIEW!