Confessions of a Marauder in Love


Here's the deal. I've finally gotten the girl I love to give me a chance, and now we're going steady. Any moron would tell you that I'm supposed to be the happiest bloke in the world. And I am. Just a bit confused.


I, James Potter, am a filthy hypocrite.

Yes, I know you're not supposed to insult yourself, especially at the tender age of seventeen, where what you think will determine your personality for the rest of your life. If you go around calling yourself a huge galoot, you will most likely end up at a menial job such as sweeping in the Hog's Head over in Hogsmeade. And this all be because you hadn't enough self-esteem.

Anyways, I figure that I'm not lacking in the confidence department. My girlfriend believes that I have a tad too much. But she also thinks that Quidditch is a waste of time and insists that Britain's soccer team is far more entertaining than a bunch of idiots riding a broom after a ball. As if running after a ball is much better.

Running.

Psh.

Back to me and my hypocrite-ness.

See, when I was just a lad five weeks ago, I was rather taken with a girl named Lily Evans. On technical terms, I was her stalker. However, technicalities are so overrated.

So, I used to follow her around, asking her out, and occasionally doing some pratty stuff that made her dislike me as much as, well, nothing. She simply hated me.

Many times, I have sighed dreamily, "If I get that girl, I'll be the luckiest bloke alive." And now that we're going steady, I feel happy. Happy, but not elated like I'm supposed to.

I've seen the Muggle shows. We're supposed to call each other sweet, sickening terms like "Honey" and "Sweetie". We're supposed to do thoughtful things for each other, like buying a gigantic house on the waterfront. And we're supposed to be poor, but madly in love with each other, which makes it all better.

Instead, we call each other "Prat" and "Banshee". We fire hexes at each other. And we're both filthy rich. Well, at least I am. Lily's dad is a lawyer, so he makes a bundle of money too.

That is not love. Or a relationship that will last one day more than forever, like the couples on TV say.

It's the same as when we were enemies, except we snog a lot more than we used to.

Anyways, I suppose I'm rather happy with our current situation. I mean, it's great to have a girl who:

A. Has a brain.

B. Knows how to use it.

C. Doesn't worship me.

D. Has more skin covered than uncovered.

I just wish things could be better.

Perfect.

Because I just have this feeling that one day, one of our fights will become cruel and vindictive, and we both are so bloody prideful that we'll never apologize, and we will marry someone else who we don't love, simply because we didn't use endearments.

Top Five Causes for the Destined Break-up Dispute

5. One of us has a secret lover or child that the other doesn't know about. The truth will come out eventually and totally shatter the other person.

4. Our careers. She'll become a free-spirited artist, while I'll be a boring Ministry official, and our differences will cause us break up. Of course, I don't see this happening since neither Lily or I can draw a bird for our life. But still.

3. She'll become pregnant, and I will want her to abort, and she'll refuse to kill an innocent child just because we were irresponsible. However, since we hardly do anything beyond snogging, it's extremely doubtful that she'll become pregnant soon.

2. I will turn into an alcoholic, girlfriend-abusing jerk and she'll run away. But I hate alcohol. It makes me up-chuck.

1. For the top match of the season, she'll refuse to come because she hates Quidditch and I'll be so crushed that I make out with some groupee, and word will get to her, and she'll break up with me.

I'm depressed.


"Lily, we need to talk."

Lily hardly looked up from where she was neatly writing her Potions essay for Slughorn.

Resisting the urge to ask her for it so I can copy off of it, I say, "Lily, now."

Groaning, she faced me and snapped, "What? I'm trying to finish my essay here, James."

I pointed out, "You've already gone past the required length two times, Lily." My comment was met with a withering look.

Snorting, she informed me, "Some of us aren't under-achievers."

See, she's not usually so witchy, and I highly suspect PMS was the culprit here.

"Lily, just because you're going through hormonal and physical changes because it's your time of month doesn't mean you can verbally abuse me." I replied in a hurt tone.

Chucking her quill onto the desk, she swore, "Why does every fucking guy think that PMS turns us girls into raging monsters every month?"

Possibly because it's true.

Glaring at me, she coldly suggested, "Maybe you should have to suffer every month. Then you'll know what it's like to have cramps that might kill you, not to mention bloody break-outs and mood-swings."

I knew it.

I helpfully told her, "You have really nice skin. No break-outs that I can see."

She smiled faintly, "Thanks. I think it might be because of all the charms I placed this morning."

Oops.

"Anyways, what did you want to talk to me about?"

I sat down across from her and began solemnly, "I want to talk to you about us. Our relationship isn't working out."

"Are you breaking up with me?"

Instead of looking crushed, like all of my other ex-girlfriends, she looked angry. If she had a Beater bat in her hands, she would have aimed straight for my head.

"Of course not, I-"

She looked angrier, "Wait. Let me guess. You have another girlfriend, and you want me to accept sharing my boyfriend with some other bimbo. You want to two-time me! You, James Potter, are sick."

I tried to tell her that I didn't want to break up with her, simply mend our relationship. However, she wouldn't listen to a word.

"I knew you were a player! I should've listened to Bertha when she told me you were cheating on me and that she saw you with Hestia Jones, kissing her by the one-eyed witch statue! I am such an idiot!" She ranted.

Hestia?

Who the hell is Hestia?

For that matter, who's Bertha? Oh, right. She's that gossipping idiot girl who tried to start a rumor that I had a crush on McGonagall. Evil girl.

"Lily, I don't want to break up with you! I'm not even cheating on you! You know why? I LOVE YOU, YOU IDIOT!" I bellowed.

Instantly, Madame Pince appeared and screeched, "Out with you, Potter!"

I shot an angry look at Lily once more and stalked out.

"James! James, wait!"

Ignoring her calls, I walked faster. A first-year gaped at me, before moving out of my way hurriedly.

"James Potter! Stop right there or I will never snog you again!"

I stopped.

"Thank you. Now, I'm sorry for being such a…"

"Witch?" I offered, bitterly.

"I was going for dolt, but same difference, yes? Look, James, you know I turn into a raving idiot every month, and you love me anyways, right?" She looked hopeful.

I shrugged, "Well, yeah. But you kind of make me really, really dislike you sometimes."

She looked ashamed, and looked away, "I know, and I'm sorry. But I'm not used to being so close to another person, especially a guy. I mean, we're together all the time, and you always see me at my worst, and I get all angsty because I'm new to the dating scene and you always seem to expect some perfect girl."

I remained silent, glowering at the portrait of a snoozing mermaid on the stone wall across from me.

"I'm sorry, and I'll try to be nicer, OK?"

Smiling faintly, I hugged her, "OK. And you are perfect. Because you're real and you're you."

Shocked, she pulled back, "Did you say something thoughtful, James?"

"It must be a fluke." I decided.

"Thought so."

And in the moment, I completely forgot our relationship wasn't perfect.


Author's Notes

I know it's short and totally delayed, but there's been stuff going on, readers dearest.

Anyways, GUESS WHAT? I'm writing the next chapter of the Round Robin (chapter six) and as soon as we post chapter five, my chapter will be next.

So if you haven't checked out "Fork in the Eye" yet (shame on you!) then you now have to. Because I'm writing chapter SIX! YAY!

And I meant for this to be a one-shot sequel, but let me know if you want me to continue, because I don't want to bore anyone by dragging it on.

Kisses,

Celina