Disclaimer: Do I really need to say it?
A/N: Well. What can I say? First attempt at J/L. Slightly AU, due to writing the actual story before reading about recent developments concerning J/L's history. Hope you like it.
I knew from the moment I laid eyes on him, that I was praying for trouble. Granted, he was disgustingly charming and stunningly handsome; classic jaw line and dazzling eyes like a rabbit caught in the visual path of a hungry predator. For a split second, you could find yourself falling, hopelessly and helplessly, without the slightest intentions of searching for a place to land. However, you were cured of your malady as soon as the bastard opened his mouth. It's a shame, really. What a waste. Don't let his flawless, outward appearance beguile you. Oh no, because underneath it all, behind the artfully mastered smile made of spun-sugar, is Lucifer himself.
James Potter has to be the rudest, most ego-centric, intolerable wizard or human being I have ever encountered. Every word he utters drips with malicious distain, every sentence he crafts is only intended to show off his false superiority and shoot a bullet through your heart. He is stylishly cunning and quick to anger; a person would have to be insane to desire his wrath. Potter is exactly the type of person I loathe, the type of person that literally requires a bit of knocking sense into. If his head gets any bigger, he won't be able to fit through the Common Room door.
Unfortunately, my Mum decided that he was the perfect match for me, that we were truly soul mates or some crap of that caliber. Time and time again, I attempted to convince her that common sense has abandoned her; that anyone with two eyes could see that the compatibility of James Potter and I are just like mixing vinegar and water.
We were about two years old when we were first introduced. Our Mothers had suddenly become lifelong friends and forced us to play together. Mum placed me in the sandbox next to James, I took one look at his smug features and the next moment, before I could help myself, Potter was eating a mouthful of gritty sand. To tell you the absolute truth, it felt wonderful; exhilarating in fact.
On the contrary, my Mum did not view this incident as a prime example of our hatred, but decided that we simply needed time to "warm up to one another." Oh, dear old Mum. I guess it's true what the say with the passing of age; as your youth decays, so does your sensibility.
The proceeding years of our lives consisted of despised and constant intertwining arrangements, which both our Mothers connived out of methods of madness. Surprisingly, the encounters would always consist of the following layout: Potty-Mouthed Potter would generate some witty yet completely vulgar remark; I would shoot back with an icy countenance, Potty would throw me one of his annoyinglydevilish smirks and thus, I would lose my patience, curses flying out of my mouth a mile a minute.
Dear God, to think what my Mum would say if she ever heard the language that spilled from my tongue. Sadly, she probably would hear the first syllables, and then fall to the floor with shock and horror.
As childhood evolved into adolescence, Potty started to realize that I was, in fact, a girl and decided that since he was a boy, he should initiate our notorious leap into unwanted puberty and therefore, try to slobber all over my face in what would be classified as a kiss. I quickly learned to defend myself against such sexual assault; I've developed hyper-sensitive listening skills to note when Potter is leering in some darkened corner.
Fast forward to seventh year. Potty and I are still at each other's throats, our Mums still firmly believe that we'd make the most precious couple and I'm trying to deal with the fact that even though I'm dating Sirius Black, Potty's left wingman, big man on campus and Hogwart's resident Bad Boy, I'm starting to appreciate how irresistible James Potter really is.
Shit. Did I just say that aloud?