Chapter 1

A/N: Hey! Welcome to my new story about James II and my OC, Milla. I have it all written because I HATE waiting for unfinished stories. Don't you? Anyhoo, I love the new gen stories because there's so much room for creativity. Hope you like it and read on!

Oh, and I'm only going to do one disclaimer for the story: I do not own, nor plan to profit from JKR's brilliant series. It's not mine!

The sun was beating down in the balmy September weather and it was bloody hot out during a Quidditch practice. So, as per usual when it got too warm, James took off his shirt.

And this is where my troubles began.

I, Camilla Bancroft Hobbes, could not unfasten my eyes from James's broad expanse of chest. His musculature was the envy of every bloke and the drool-inspiring dream of every girl. FUCK. These thoughts shouldn't have been crossing my mind! He was my best friend, for Merlin's sake. I wasn't supposed to notice he was bloody… hot.

Erm, I mean handsome. That is something I can say. It's acceptable. Those other errant thoughts were forbidden, and James could only remain in the box labeled, "best friend" in my mind.

"MILLA!" came James deep voice and startled me out of my reverie. I snapped to and looked down at my broom guiltily. "Focus!"

Bloody James. He was such a strict Quidditch captain. Holy fuck. He needed to calm down. My eyes refocused on him as I was ready to retort wittily, but they glued on his broad shoulders again so I quickly cast them downward. Ugh.

I sighed deeply and Charlotte eyed me worriedly. I shook my head in a gesture saying, We'll talk later, I'm fine. She gave me a skeptical look but complied.

"Oi! Milla, Char, stop with the eye communication. Drives me mad," said James's best mate (after me, obviously), Ben. I rolled my eyes at Ben. That prat, Ben Thompson is. Gotta love him though, he did help so much with those pranks last Halloween.

I laughed good-naturedly. Suddenly Charlotte was off, trying to find the Snitch. Ruddy fast, she was. The Feints that girl could do on a broom. Merlin. I couldn't pull a Wronski like she could. No one could. Hence why we always won. Qudditch, I mean.

Charlotte – always Char – the name Charlotte has too many bloody syllables was one of my best friends. After James, of course. He was my closest friend, always had been. We grew up together. Our parents are really close and we took baths together as babies. Pretty pervy now, isn't it? Anyway, she and I were very close every since we got here at Hogwarts. Char is the eternal optimist – and despite her bloody fantastic Quidditch abilities (and obsession, I mean, her father is Oliver Wood), she really is a girly girl. She's completely brilliant and is a sweetie. She's shorter than me – I'm three inches taller (HAH!) – and has straight brown hair and brown eyes. She has such an athletic build – lean with good legs. All the blokes fall over themselves vying for her attention. But it's all for naught. She wants to find The One and began her search at the ripe old age of fifteen.

Not that I didn't believe in finding The One. I did. But I wasn't actively looking for him. I mean, I figured he'd pop up. At some point. Anyway,back to the the topic at hand. Char had a very precise description of The One, including a checklist. But she summed it up as, "He must be professional player for Puddlemere United, hot, tall, with blue eyes." Neat little summary, isn't it?

Few people seemed to fit Char's specifications for the perfect man. But never mind that, Char always kept on optimistically searching for Mr. Right.

As a Bludger whizzed past me, my ruminations were stopped and I focused on the game.

After a grueling practice, I hauled my gear back to the changing rooms. I peeled off my gear and took a nice, searing shower, the hot water soothing my aches from the long practice.

As I dressed after the shower, Char and I were chatting about my … strange thoughts during the practice.

Char looked at me with a knowing eye. "Okay, something happened, and you're going to tell me now."

I pulled on my shirt and said, "Nothing happened. I just had a weird moment and freaked."

Charlotte eyed me. "Yeah bloody right."

"Seriously!"

She swatted me on the arm. "Fine, Milla, but you won't be let off so easily next time."

I rolled my eyes. "Kay, Mum, I'm going to go find James."

I heard her calling after me, "I WILL FIND OUT SOONER OUR LATER!"

I strode out of the changing rooms and found James getting the last of the gear put away. "Oi! James!" I said loudly.

He turned and a big grin spread across his face. His brown eyes lit up at me.

"Milla, good practice. But you got a bit spacey there for a bit, yeah?"

I flushed slightly but said sarcastically, "If you weren't so bloody Fascist maybe I wouldn't need to drift off because I was exhausted!"

James glared. "I kick your arse into shape."

"HEY! Are you saying my arse is anything but? Or that I'M NOT GOOD AT QUIDDITCH?"

James smirked. "Yes, hence my need to treat you lot like shit so you work hard!"

I smacked him. "You're a ponce."

He grinned cheekily. "I know. But clearly you love it anyway, or you wouldn't be my best mate, would you?"

I pursed my lips. "Yes, I'm your best mate. But who said you were mine?"

James wrapped an arm around my shoulder. He leaned down and said into my ear, "I'm your best friend and unless you want me to tell Char and Miranda…"

I turned and smacked him again. "Idiot! You wouldn't dare!"

He laughed. "Wouldn't i?"

That dolt! He never stopped. But he knew he'd won. He had a supercilious smirk on his face.

I sighed melodramatically. "Oh fuck off, James. You don't need to rub it in."

"HAHA! I win!" he said triumphantly.

My irked expression softened a bit. James's antics never ceased to make me laugh. What a retard.

He squeezed me tightly and I leaned against his tall frame as we headed back to the castle. It really was a beautiful day for September. Last of the summer.

He looked down at him from his six foot three vantage point (damn him! He's bloody nine inches taller than me!) and his brown eyes sparkled mischievously as he said, "So, what were you and Char discussing in the changing rooms? The millions of girls who are so fucking annoying and always fawn over me? My gorgeous body?"

I smacked him upside the head.

"HEY!" he cried, rubbing his head.

"You're a right git, you know that? Arrogant bastard," I chastised. What a ruddy idiot. So vain.

He gave me a grin and said, "You know it's true."

Well, fuck me, it was, but I wasn't going to let him know. First of all it wasn't allowed under the laws of being best friends with a bloke. Second, he was joking and he knew I knew he was. Third, he had enough attention from the gaggles of girls who drooled all over him.

I gave a groan and hit him again. "Oi, what am I going to do with you?"

He opened the door for me, and put his hand on the small of my back, leading me up the stairs to Gryffindor common room.

As I walked in, I noticed Miranda with Livvy Thomas – no doubt gossiping – and was just about to cross the room and talk to them when I felt James lean down and mutter in my ear, "Watch out for those girls over there. They're staring at me."

I looked out of the corner of my eye and spotted some Sixth Years who were staring at James. Maura Something-or-Other, and Bailey Jameston? Johnson? Who the fuck knows? Obviously I didn't.

I gave a noise that came out as, "ugh." James had a scowl on his face. There really were too many girls fawning over James these days. Well, it really started last year, at the end of Sixth Year, when people noticed James was, erm, you know. Anyway, it really pissed me off. All these people were really fucking annoying. They constantly sought out his attention, lavished him in over-the-top flirtation, and tried to get him to look their way. James didn't really. There was the odd girl here or there, but mostly he ignored them.

Thank Merlin. I wouldn't want my best friend to be manipulated by these simpering idiots.

Goodness.

I looked up at him and said earnestly, "I know it's annoying but just ignore them. They're idiots. And we graduate this year. Then they're gone."

James gave me a grateful look. "Thanks, Milla," he said affectionately, giving me a hug. "You always know what to say."

I smiled widely and then gestured to Miranda. "James, I'm going to go chat with Miranda, okay? I'll see you in bit. Hey, I see Luke over there!"

James laughed and shooed me off. Luke was Charlotte's twin, and he was the Beater on the team. He was also James's and Ben's close mate. He looked exactly like Charlotte. But nothing like his older sister Caroline. Kind of ironic.

Anyway, I strolled over to Miranda and Livvy. "Hey, Miranda, Livvy," I said cheerfully.

Miranda raised a sardonic eyebrow. "You're in a bloody good mood. Those stupid endorphins after your much. Well, it'd take more than that to cheer me up right now. I need some fucking anti-depressants. I just found out we're getting a two foot Charms essay due!"

"Oh, whatever," I replied happily. "Doesn't matter. I'll just copy off you."

Miranda groaned and glared at me. "Too right you are, you idiot."

"HEY! It's not MY fault I suck at Charms. You always get to copy my DADA work!" I retorted huffily.

Livvy quickly interjected, "Oh, it's okay, you two. I've done mine! So you can both do it."

I smiled warmly at Livvy. Always loved that girl. Bloody insane, though. Who does an assignment as soon as it's due?

Miranda's facial expression softened a bit, but she grimaced, "Still. Don't want to do it. Anyway, how was Quidditch?"

I smiled. "Good, but so grueling. James is a damn Nazi!"

Livvy yawned. "Nothing new, then."

I frowned. "I know. Too bad."

Suddenly Char's bright voice wafted over the din of the common room. "Hi! So what's going on here?"

Miranda grinned. "Complaining, as usual."

Char rolled her eyes. "Of course. You always do. You're so bloody sarcastic."

This was true. Miranda Longbottom was very sarcastic and slightly cynical. I loved her though – she was so funny with her sardonic jabs. She was very witty and wasn't a huge fan of Quidditch (but we forced her to watch matches even though she rolled her green eyes.) She was an avid runner though. Everyday, she ran. It was really impressive, actually. She had wavy brown hair and was a bit shorter than Charlotte. She took after her mother, mostly, Hannah Abbott.

As I got lost once again in my thoughts – that seemed to be happening a lot today – I felt the murmur of familiar conversation around me and felt oddly comfortable.

I even almost forgot about thinking James was hot. Almost.