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Disclaimer: Neither I, nor Stephanie (stranger_than_fiction) are J.K. Rowling. We are not associated with her peeps, and therefore we do not own any of the characters you recognize from the Harry Potter book series.

James’s Point of View

Sirius says I should give up on Lily Evans.

He tells me to quit wasting my time – that unless I find another girl who’d actually look at me without hexing me, I’m going to grow up and be a cat lady. Or a cat man, considering my gender. He says that like it’s a bad thing. See, I like cats, but he doesn’t. It probably has something to do with Professor McGonagall.

“Give it a rest, mate,” Sirius says, as he passes a quaffle to me. I’m practicing my chasing skills and he’s passing quaffles to me and critiquing my love life. “Find yourself another bird for now. At least until you get Lily to tolerate you.”

He doesn’t understand. I can’t give it a rest. James Potter never quits anything. Well, besides using diapers and night-lights, but that’s not the type of quitting I’m talking about.

Mum says that’s my best and worst quality – that my determination will either get me to the top or land me in Azkaban. I prefer the first option.

But it’s mostly my dad’s and my fault that Lily hates me. It’s my dad’s fault because of the advice on girls he gave me, and mine for listening to him. Dad told me that girls love it when you pick on them, because it makes them feel special. ‘That’s how I got your mother!’ he’d say whenever I questioned his tactics. I’ve learned not to question it.

But I guess if it works for them, it’ll work for me.

The thing is, once I started, I couldn’t stop. (I believe we’ve touched on the subject of my determination before). The first time I ever said a word to Lily Evans was on the first day of my first year, and I asked her if her head was on fire. She scowled at me and narrowed her eyes – which was when I first caught the glimpse of those beautiful green eyes.

“Two deep emerald jewels she calls eyes,” I say out loud, without thinking.

“James,” Sirius says. He’s obviously hear me. Crap. “If you’re composing a love poem, would you mind doing it in the house? Your pathetic love sap is getting in the way of my sun.” He’s stopped throwing quaffles to me and was spread-eagle on the grass, getting a tan.

I wish I could do magic outside of Hogwarts, because then right now Sirius would have a hive of very angry bees dropped on top of him. “Your ugly face is getting in the way of my life!” I call back at him. It was a lame comeback, I know, but if you tell Sirius anything about his face, he gets angrier than a cat in water.

“Take it back!” he exclaims, pulling the sunglasses off his face and throwing them on the grass. “Take it back!” He puts both of hands on my shoulders and shakes me hard.

“Padfoot, your face is awfully close right now, I don’t feel all that comfortable – ”

“Take it back!” he screams, shaking me so hard I nearly lose balance. “Tell my face you’re sorry!”

“Alright,” I lie, and he allows me to regain balance and puts his hands at his sides. “Sirius, your face is – ” I break out in a sprint towards my house and call, “dead ugly!” over my shoulder. It takes him a minute or two to realize that I’ve left, but he runs after me when he does.

“I’m going to get you, James!” he shouts as we slide into the house.

I run up the stairs as fast as I can, scrunching up the rug on the second floor so that he’d trip. I’m home free, almost to my room and –

“James, I told you, no running in the house!” Mum says, blocking my way and holding a basket full of laundry.

Aw, damn it! I was so close! “Muuh-uuum,” I start, but she remains standing, blocking my way to safety and – oomph!

“Gotcha!” Sirius says, wearing a cheeky grin. I struggle to get up from his tackle, when he notices my mum standing there. “Hello, Mrs. Potter!” he says, standing up and replacing his cheeky grin with the one he uses to suck up to my parents.

“Hello, Sirius!” Mum says back, moving out of the way and towards the stairs. Oh great, now she moves. Would she have minded so much doing that three seconds earlier?

“It’s a pleasure to stay in your home,” Sirius says. “It’s really nice of you and Mr. Potter to do so.”

Oh Merlin, not this again.

“Oh, Sirius!” Mum replies, with a tear in her eye. “You’re welcome anytime, Sirius Black! Stay as long as you want to, we’ve got plenty of room!” She drops the laundry basket into my hands and wraps Sirius in a large hug. “You hear me, Sirius? Stay as long as you want to!”

He fakes a sniffle and says, “Thank you, Mrs. Potter. If it weren’t for such good people like you and your husband, I would have lost all hope for the human race. You really do have a wonderful, wonderful family.”

Suck up. 


“Oy, James!” Sirius says, holding up a quidditch magazine. “You have any other magazines besides Quidditch Weekly?” he asks, with a bored look on his face.

“Quidditch Monthly,” I reply, tossing him a magazine with Puddlemere United’s chaser, Hugh Donnels, on the front.

“I mean, not quidditch magazines,” Sirius says quickly, tossing it on the floor.

“You mean swimsuit magazines?” I ask. “I haven’t got any of those. It’s not my fault you didn’t bring yours when you packed your stuff.”

He’s silent and pokes through Quidditch Monthly. “It’s not my fault you don’t have any. I mean, quidditch magazines are nice and all, but I’m not all that into guys,” he says, as the page opens up to a picture of Hugh Donnels without a shirt on.

“That’s not exactly why you read them, Sirius,” I say, flipping the page to the Strategies article. “You read them to help you get better at quidditch. And I suggest you read these strategies if you plan on making the team this year.”

He grumbles, and I know he’s just sore that I’m captain. He flips through the pages and lands on another picture of the Puddlemere chaser. “Look at this, James,” he says, and he reads from the article. “‘Heartthrob chaser Hugh Donnels is on a roll – not only for his amazing quidditch playing or lady luck, but for his jaw-dropping features and physique. Head to toe, this man is perfection – from his flawlessly tousled hair to his tip-top toes, this boy is a real treat for witches around the world’. Load of bullocks. His cuticles are totally disgusting,” Sirius says, hastily flipping to the next page.

He inspects his own fingers. “That is what you call perfection!” he says, brandishing his fingernails. “Perfect cuticles.” He admires his hands for several minutes, before turning to me. “Anyway, enough about my hands. How’s the Lily thing going?” he teases.

I grumble. “Shut up, Padfoot.”

But despite my directions, he continues. What else is new? “Just asking,” he says. “I mean, it’s been five years, and you still haven’t gotten her to like you, not even a little! I mean, she’s probably hooking up with some muggle boy somewhere and snogging him to death – ”

I smack him on the head. “Shut up!” I say, and my words are accompanied with another good, hard hit on the head. He rubs the spot on his head that I’ve managed to turn into a large goose egg. “And I doubt it,” I add. “Lily’s not that kind of girl.”

He smiles cheekily. “I don’t know about that, James. I mean, she’s quite the catch. All I’m saying is that she’s a very good-looking bird, and if you weren’t so defensive about her, I bet blokes would be lining up around her block just to talk to her. And she’s bound to talk to one of them, isn’t she?”

He goes back to reading and I cross my arms. “She’s not that pretty, is she Padfoot?” I ask hopefully. Who am I kidding, of course she is.

“Don’t know, if I said anything you’d probably smash my face in. Which after, I might add, would still be more handsome than yours.” He pauses and grins. “But, she has, in your own words from earlier today ‘Two deep emerald jewels she calls eyes’.” He smirks and grabs the magazine on the floor out of my reach to prevent me from hitting him with it.

I sigh and sit down on a chair. “You’re right,” I say glumly. “It’s practically hopeless.” I put my head on the table. “But it’s still worth a try,” I say, smiling from ear to ear as I think of a brilliant idea. I grab a piece of parchment from the desk and a quill, and begin to write a letter.

Dear Lily,

How’s your summer going? Mine’s alright, except the fact that Sirius is here –

“Hey!” Sirius says, as he reads over my shoulder.

“Go away!” I yell, pushing him back. “It’s private!”

And he’s being a bit of a prat, which is no surprise. Anyway, just thought I’d send you a letter, seeing as how we haven’t spoken in a while.


PS. Please enclose in your reply a lock of your hair.

Sirius hops of the bed he’s sitting on and runs over to me. “Let me see it!” he says, attempting the grab the letter out of my hands. “I need to inspect it before you send it. To make sure it’s not something top secret or anything of that sort.” He grabs it from my hands and reads it. He must have finished, because he says, “The last line’s a little desperate, isn’t it James?”

I snatch the letter back from his hands and stuff it in an envelope. “No,” I say defensively, taking my owl out of its cage and tying the letter to it’s foot (or is it a claw? I’m not quite sure), but not before I print ‘LILY EVANS’ on the front of the envelope.

“So asking for a lock of hair isn’t weird at all? I guess your Lily collage isn’t enough? You have to have the real thing?”

“It’s not a collage!” I say. “It’s a … ” It’s really a scrapbook, but if I say that, I’ll sound really un-manly. And, I’ll have you know, James Potter is one manly bloke … but I digress. “… Book of faces to remember everyone by over the summer,” I say matter-of-factly, opening the window so my owl can get out.

I wait a while for a reply. Twenty minutes pass, and I’ve given up hope. But then my owl, conveniently named Owlie, returns with a letter attached to his claw.

“Padfoot! She replied!” I say, grabbing the letter and tossing a handful of owl treats into Owlie’s cage. I open it hastily, but I make sure not to rip the envelope. I’ll need it for my scrapbook. I mean, my manly book of memories.

Dear James,

My summer’s going alright, until I received your letter just a few minutes ago.

I frown. I thought my letter was pretty nice. And sensitive, but while still being manly.

And for the last time, no, I won’t send you a lock of my hair, because I can’t trust you with anything that contains my DNA.

I hope you understand.


I can’t let Sirius see this; he’ll never let it go.

“What’s it say, mate?” he asks, flipping through the magazine once again, in hopes of finding a picture of a female player somewhere in the pages.

I hide the letter in a desk drawer and lock it. “It says that she misses me, too,” I lie, turning around so he can’t see my face. Sirius can usually tell when I’m lying. Which comes in handy sometimes, but not usually.

“Doubt it,” he says, and he snorts. “I’m guessing the reason you’re not telling me while facing my direction is that you’re lying. And since I can nearly always tell when you’re lying, you’ve turned around, thinking that I can’t tell.”

I turn around and face him. “There!” I say. “Happy?” He smirks. “And I find it odd that you’ve analyzed me so much,” I add. “So there.”

“I haven’t been analyzing you, James. As much as you’d like me to, I’m not interested in you like that.” He winks and throws the magazine off the bed. “I’m starved,” he says, changing the subject. “You think your mum will cook us something?”

I pick the magazine off the floor and glare at him. “Seeing how much you suck up to her,” I say, “I bet she’ll make you a whole damn feast.” 

A/N (tableau): Okay, so that's the very first chapter of A Very Long Stupidity. I hope you liked it! So, you may be wondering what's up with this fic. Well, I'll tell you. Stephanie and I (tableau and stranger_than_fiction) are collaborating and creating this James and Lily fic! The chapters are going to flip flop point of views. Odd chapters will be written by me, in James's point of view, and evens will be written by discern, in Lily's point of view. Anyway, please leave a review!

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