"Okay, so Professor Binns was droning on, and Mack and I were in the back, bored to death, so we decided to have a little fun.

'Couple nights ago, I had stolen some exploding gun powder from the restricted bin, in Filch's office. The old bat never saw me coming; it was honestly the most bloody hilarious thing I've done in a while. I snuck right up in back of him and set it off, and the entire room exploded. Binns was furious, but he never caught me; while he was confused, I snuck back around to my desk. You've should've seen the look on his face." I proudly said, grinning as the boys burst out laughing and choruses of "good one James," echoing around.

I glanced at Mack beside me as he retold the stories with his hands and fist bumped him, as cringe as it sounds. I still remember when Mack and I met in first year, when we both ended up in detention together on a cold Wednesday afternoon. He had passed me a note that asked if I wanted to bust out of here, and the rest was history.

 
He leaned back on the bed frame, yawning. "Man, I had way too much treacle tart. But hey It doesn't matter, as long as the ladies don't care. And from the way they were looking at me, it sure didn't seem like it. And the first night's not even over!" A chuckle rose from our pajama-striped friends around us, and I closed my eyes. He knew I was too smart to not notice the gentle jibe in his words.

But hey, it wasn't my fault he caught me kissing Vanessa Gonzalez in the hallway after I might've had a few to many goblets of rum I smuggled in. And it wasn't my fault that he had kissed her after I left to sought out Savanna Hudgens shortly after. What could I say? The first night always is a banger. Besides, how were Mack and I supposed to restart our notorious playboy reputation besides kissing every tipsy sixth year there was? 

I have no idea, and I don't care.

I began to find my mind drift, especially as Mack began to tell another story from third year when he blew up the prefect's bathroom, one I'd heard over a billion times.

The day had honestly been perfect; better than I could've dreamt. Getting on the Hogwart's express after so long, meeting up with Mack and the boys, laughing and stuffing ourselves at the banquet, teasing first years, kissing Vanessa and Savanna. 

It was an incredible day, except for the one event that keeps creeping into the back of my mind: my father's words before I boarded the train.

At first it was hard to hear him; what with the sounds of people chorusing their goodbyes, owls screeching, first years gasping and parents crying it was like a zoo. Yet I could recall all of his words perfectly. "James," he had said, his voice half serious half amused. "Don't get into lots of trouble, got it? I can't take another letter from the professors." He had chuckled. Already feeling the awkwardness I'd turn to go, but he put a hand on my shoulder.

"But most of all, be careful around the girls, okay? Your mother and I can't keep track of all the ones that come to Christmas." Then with a fatherly hug he said goodbye and my siblings, and I boarded the train. 

Great way to say I love you Dad. 

For some reason his words were bothering me, which well, bothered me. I'm fine with others thinking I'm shallow or a troublemaker but when it comes to Dad, it's different. Maybe that's why I decided to kiss multiple different girls on the same night. 

Or it could be the rum. I can't really tell anymore.

I'm known for being a flirty, daring, courageous trouble making Gryffindor who's broke the heart of every single girl in my year. And I love it when people call me out on it. Call me vain, but it makes me feel better about myself because that's the only thing I really can be. But to hear it from my own Father, even though he meant well, is somehow internally troubling.

You see, it's not easy being the son of the famous Harry Potter. He's legendary for all of the things he's done, along with my Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron. Their story is told everywhere in the wizarding world, and then that leaves me and my siblings, Albus and Lily.

Albus is the good one; yeah, he's in Slytherin, but after the first year everyone got over it and now, he's the smart, brave son of Harry Potter who makes everyone proud. Then you have my sister, Lily. Lily's so sweet that one conversation with her you can't help but just love her. She's simple, kind, and perfect. Too perfect it's scary. Then you have me. I'm the stereotypical bad boy. The boy that wears girls broken hearts on a chain round my neck. The boy that teachers can't control.  But people don't know there's a side of me that only my family knows...

Who made Lily feel better when she broke her arm playing quidditch outside? Who stood up for Albus when he tripped, and his books spilled everywhere, and everyone laughed? That was me. Not everyone knows the side of me that my family knows. That side of me that's a caring, loving brother. And as much as I hate to admit, I wish that my father could see me in that way too, instead of the troublemaking son.

Wow, this alcohol is really getting too me. Next time I'll bring fire whiskey instead. 

Or just stick with rum.

My father loves me... That was my last thought as sleep began to overtake me... Until I feel Jake slap my back. Swearing under my breath I open my eyes, force a smile, turn to him.

"Dude," he grinned. "Steph McCartney is into you." At his words the boys let out a childish "ooo," and I punch Jake's shoulder laughingly, covering up for the heat that rises in my chest.

Oh man that Steph McCarteny.

It's like heaven sent an angel down from earth just to taunt me with her beauty. How could I forget those perfectly glossed lips, the ones I'd practiced kissing on my pillow in second year? Or that musical laugh that seems to infect my body like a parasite. Forget all the other girls; Steph is the one heart I haven't been able to capture since I was 12.

And this year I'm going to make her mine.

I have a feeling that this will be the year when she'll finally be my girlfriend. Why wouldn't she want too? I'm funny, brave, and all-star Quidditch team beater, soon to be Quidditch captain. I grinned at the boys one last time and laughed as Henry told another story, promising to never forget I was James Potter, the coolest guy at Hogwarts, and that not even my dad could change that, before I slipped into blissful sleep.

...

I woke up the next day to Mack standing over me, shaking me awake. "Rise and shine Princess," He crooned, petting my hair and puckering his lips teasingly. With a groan I pushed him away, pulled myself out of bed, threw on my uniform, ran some gel through my hair, and headed out of our dorm and the common room, my crew of boys right behind me.

I was also notoriously known for my boys, the lucky troublemaking men I'd picked up along the way in my years of Hogwarts. Mack of course was my first mate, and Jake, Henry, and so many others were my backups. When we walked through the halls people made way. Even the seventh years digged us.

And as we walked through the hallways to the Great Hall for breakfast, I could tell that hadn't changed. Young students darted away as we made a path in the halls, the rulers of the school. As we made our march to breakfast, I noticed a sign on the wall beside us that said "QRYFINDOR QUIDDITCH PRACTICES THURSDAY!" In bright red letters that caught my eye.

Mack stopped beside me and whistled under his breath as I picked up the flyer and turned it over in my hands. "You gonna be captain this year James?" He said, and at his words I ruffled my hair, what I always did when I was trying to calm my nerves.

"No duh," I replied, and Mack laughed and nodded along. Little did he know how much being captain meant to me; it's my life.

The boys don't know how I practiced six hours a day every day in the summer, staying outside until my mother had to drag me in. They don't know the screams that came out of my mouth when the blisters formed on my feet and the burns on my back after days and days of practice. 

And they'd never understand. Not even Macl/

Being quidditch captain would be the best thing that could ever happen to me; I'd even take it over Steph McCartney even, hands down. I will be quidditch captain, I reassured myself. I know I will. I put the flyer in my pocket and began to move on when two sixth year girls passed us and I stopped once more.

Almost instantaneously my heartbeat quickened as I recognized Steph and one of her friends. My father's words were far from my mind now as I instantly leaned against the nearest banister, flashed a smile at them, and then winked.

"Hey McCartney!" I called laughingly, ignoring the pounding of my heart. Steph rolled her eyes playfully and I made my way over to her, boys chortling behind me.

When I arrived, Steph was whispering to her friend, who to my annoyance, was watching me through narrowed blue gray eyes. But who cared about her? I only had eyes for Steph, who at that moment pulled her pink manicured hand away from her friend's and shouldered her book bag before looking at me.

I couldn't help but follow her perfect movements, shoving my clammy hands in my pockets. Before meeting her glimmering green eyes and smile

"What do you want James?" She asked teasingly. I glanced over my shoulder at Mack, Jake, Elliot, Henry, Vinnie, and Sean, the nearest people to me for reassurance before taking a deep breath and tilting my head towards her.

"A date with you." I said, and I watched as her cheeks flushed with pleasure, hope fluttering in my chest. I then detected a tiny sigh, and whipped my head towards Steph's friend, who was rolling her eyes.

"And who are you?" I asked, dislike filling my insides as the girl straightened her shoulders and met my eyes coldly. "Morgan Winters." Was her short reply, and I felt a ding of realization go off somewhere in the back of my mind.

Morgan was that smart kid who was considered, "extremely gifted" among the professors. She's also been the chaser on the Gryffindor quidditch team for the past four years, yet I never really paid attention to her off the quidditch field.

I gave her a tiny nod before turning back to Steph. "So, what's the answer?" I asked, and I saw Steph's eyes light up with longing, but she took a deep breath and studied her nails with a tiny laugh.

"Oh James. It's going to take more than flirting to get me on a date with you." Was her reply, and with a tilt of her head she was gone, Morgan hissing like a mental cat in her ear.

I felt Elliot punch my shoulder and I turned to see him shaking his head in her direction. "Man, she's playing hard."

I nodded; eyes screwed up in concentration. It was going to take more than just some winks to get Steph McCartney, but I was ready to try.

Then I felt a sharp slap on my shoulder, and I whipped around to see Mack looking at me with narrowed eyes. Annoyance ran through me, and I rubbed my arm, wondering what the bloody heck he was doing.

"Dude what was that for?" I scoffed, trying to keep the anger out of my voice, but it was obvious it was there, and Mack started to hiss.

"I'm Morgan Winters, and I think you're a terrible boy James!" He said in a high-pitched, voice. The boys erupted into laughter, and I tried to contain my amusement, but soon I couldn't hold it in any longer and I began to barrel over, laughing along with the crew, even though it really wasn't that funny.

But we were boys, we laughed at anything.

Once we all had pulled ourselves together, we walked over to the Great Hall. Once we had sat down and began eating our breakfast, I couldn't help but sneak a glance at Steph sitting with Morgan and some other girl.

She was laughing at something Morgan had said, and I felt determination rise inside of me to get her as my girlfriend.

I'll do anything to get Steph, and no one can stop me, I mused, laughing at a joke Sean had shared. Especially you Morgan Winters.