No, I don't own these characters, though sometimes I feel like I do. JKR owns them and this is just a bit of fan fiction. Yes, I do know that the topic is a bit clichéd, but it is ever so fun to mess with. What would happen if somehow, Harry and James met up? Comments, comments. Comments will make me update quicker, believe me.
"James Potter!" Came the furious voice from down the hall. James skidded around a corner, black robes fluttering behind him in his haste. He might have been a seventh-year, the Gryffindor Quidditch captain and Head Boy to boot, but when Lily Evans was angry with him, he still flinched. Or ran away, as it was apparent now. They had been girlfriend and boyfriend for a while now and it was clear that Lily wore the trousers in this relationship. James was only glad that Sirius wasn't around right now to see him running from the red-haired, green-eyed beauty that was his girlfriend. Sirius would be quick to make a remark about him being 'whipped', he was sure.
"James! I know it was you!" James cringed; she knew him too well. Despite the fact that he was Head Boy (only further proof that Albus Dumbledore really must be off of his rocker; James was a notorious prankster along with his best friend Sirius) and should be 'setting an example', as Ms. Perfect Head Girl Lily kept telling him, he couldn't resist the temptation to pull one of his infamous stunts. He was very fond of Stinksap and Dungbomb combinations. Apparently, Lily knew this as well. He was getting to predictable. He heard her footsteps and ran like someone had lit a fire beneath him, finally coming to a halt in front of the door of a room not known to many others—The Room of Requirement. He grinned wryly and slipped inside, certain that he was safe now. Only James, Sirius, Remus and Peter knew about this place and therefore, however clever a witch Lily was, she wouldn't be finding him anytime soon.
He nearly laughed aloud when the room seemed to read his mind, butterbeer appearing, bottle upon bottle on thick, tall shelves that seemed to never end. He walked over to one promptly, thinking that the only better thing to have would be...firewhiskey! Suddenly, for every bottle of butterbeer, there was a bottle of the stronger liquid. Ah, yes. Within a few moments, surely, he would have forgotten his humiliation at the hands of his girlfriend. After all, he didn't need her permission to pull a prank, he thought grumpily. Just because Dumbledore was bloody stupid enough to make me Head Boy doesn't mean that I'll so easily give up a life of crime!
James walked up to the first shelf and was just about to close his fingers around the bottle of firewhiskey when the room began shifting and moving of its own accord, gaining thick, black cauldrons, several potion ingredients that he was certain were not allowed and thick, dusty books with dodgy titles and pictures on the covers. James did not have to guess that the next figure that would appear in the doorway would be a scrawny, pale one, with loads of long, oily hair. The teenager named Severus Snape, long his worst enemy, came into the room quickly, looking over his shoulder as if expecting to be caught. James's wand was quickly out of his pocket and pointed straight at the greasy-haired Slytherin.
"Snivelly." James said casually, twirling his wand, a feral smile on his face. Just because he had previously saved the boy's life didn't mean he liked him any more than before. If anything, it made him more bitter towards Severus. If James blamed anyone for the accident that had nearly taken place, it was him. The slimy, greasy, stupid git had been the root of the problem, alright. If he hadn't goaded Sirius so far, then Padfoot never would have betrayed Remus's secret and the entire ordeal would have never happened. James never regretted saving Snape's life, but he never missed an opportunity to annoy the Slytherin when he got a chance.
The boy turned slowly and his wand was out within moments, a snarl contorting his features, "Potter."
"Fancy meeting you here." James gestured with his free hand, "I'm guessing by the atmosphere that you came for a spot of tea and some crumpets."
Snape looked around and his face darkened. He hissed in response, "What I do is none of your business, Potter." There was just enough uncertainty in his voice and face for James to move in on him. In the half-light, his Head Boy badge and glasses gleamed, his mop of messy, mussed hair blackly shining.
"I can quickly enough make it my business." James said and ended his sentence with a Jelly-legs hex. Snape was prepared for this and jumped aside, the hex harmlessly hitting the edge of his robes. He held out his wand and opened his mouth, prepared to wage war on Potter, but James beat him to it. James watched with satisfaction and disdain on his face as Snape began gagging on nothing. The more he looked around the room, the angrier he became. It was obvious that the boy was a bad egg, but this? It looked like Dark magic! He was so appalled that he didn't notice Snape's attempt to hex him back through the gagging—however dangerous and foolish it was of him.
Severus's eyes widened as a sudden wind rattled potion flasks, scattered loose pages and tossed his and James's hair. A split second before Potter had disappeared without a trace, gagging all the while, Severus realized that the spell must have sounded like another in his nearly incoherent state. James Potter was gone.