AUTHOR'S NOTE: Alright, wish me luck ladies and gentlemen. This is the first competition that I have participated in since I joined the site, like forever ago. This fic here is for: The Potter Project Competition, hosted by spuffypotter1997. So for the first round, the participants had to write a non-slash romance fic. Mine is going to be three chapters long. So enjoy.

DICLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter.


I.

James Sirius Potter glared at the blond in front of him. His arms were crossed in front of his chest and his feet were propped up on the desk before him. His hazel eyes were pinned to the girl in front of him. She was the reason that he was here. He was here because she couldn't keep her big mouth shut. Angrily, he took his feet off the desk and kicked the back of her chair. She shook a little at the impact but didn't turn. Again, his foot collided with the back of her chair, and again, and again. He was going to continue until he got a rise out of her, or until he was satisfied, whichever came first.

The previous did, "What, Potter?" she growled not turning to him. He noticed that her hand hadn't stopped moving. He didn't answer, just kicked the back of her chair. The blond slammed her quill on the desk, earning an angry look from the Professor, and she played it off as she was killing a fly, or some other small insect, on her desk. When the Professor turned back to his work, she turned her amber eyes to him. "What, Potter?" she repeated.

"You are the reason, I'm here, you… you…. you daft girl," James stammered. He hadn't actually thought she was going to turn around and talk to him. He hadn't had a conversation planned out. The blonde looked at him for a moment, her amber eyes amused. Then she laughed. "You're laughing?" he sputtered.

"I'm not the reason you're here. You cheated on a paper, I watched you take Anna's paper from her. You didn't even bother to re-write it in words that you actually know, Potter. He," she gestured towards the Professor, "would have figured it out soon enough. I just helped the process along."

"You prat," he scoffed at her. "I knew most of the words on that paper, Miller." The blond smiled at him and turned in her seat. James kicked the back of her chair again and he heard her sigh. However, she didn't turn around. Again, his foot assaulted the back of her chair. Slowly, she turned to face him. "I wasn't done talking to you." The girl waved her hand, a gesture that meant continue. "Why are you here?"

The Miller sighed again, placing her quill, not on the table, but behind her ear. "Potter, I'm here because I am," she brought her hands up and began to air quote, "'compulsively tardy to class'. It's only the third month of the term, I can't be compulsively tardy yet." She then took her quill from behind her ear. "You aren't here because I told on you; you're here, because detention is boring without someone else here." With that she turned from him and started back on whatever she was writing. When she turned James was sure that he saw a smile on her lips.

"I hate you," he hissed as he propped his feet back on the desk, of course, not before giving her chair another kick.


II.

"GRYFFINDOR WINS!" the announcer shouted into the microphone.

The Gryffindor House erupted with cheers and applause. The seven players clad in scarlet and gold landed on the Pitch, and were greeted by their classmates. The players high-fived their friends, hugged their significant other, and made promises to their friends to see them later. Whispers about a party darted around the members of Gryffindor. If one watched long enough, one would see students stealing away from the mob of people and heading towards Hogsmeade.

Finally, the seven exhausted players made it to the locker room. One by one, they filled in. The Keeper was first, followed by the two Beaters, then two of the three chasers, followed by Captain and seeker, James Potter. He looked about the locker room at his team with a large grin on his face. They'd played better than the Harpies at the World Cup, the previous year.

"Where's Miller?" he asked. He'd seen her go down a few times during the game. Slytherin house night not have been as prejudice as it had been, however, they their team still played just as dirty. Neither of the chasers had seen her since they landed. In the back of his mind, he knew that he should go and see if she was okay. However, she was a big girl. She could handle herself. "Well, I'm proud of you guys, you played amazingly. Next game's against Ravenclaw. Practice Monday evening is canceled, I think we deserve a break after that game, yeah? See you Wednesday night. You are dismissed. Mclaggen, go to the Hospital Wing and get checked out, will ya'?" he called after the Keeper.

James undressed from his uniform and then redressed in a pair of jeans and a tee shirt. He grabbed his bag and then left the locker room. As soon as he exited the room, he saw something lying on the pitch. He walked slowly towards it and then realized that it was a person. A person was blond hair and a quidditch uniform. Miller, he thought. He dropped his bag on the ground and ran towards her. The closer he got the more panicked his felt. He then sank to his knees and touched her shoulder gently. "Miller," he said. "Miller, are you alright?" Her amber eyes were closed, not a comforting observation. "Miller!"

Her amber eyes fluttered open and she turned them to James. "What?" her voice was hoarse.

"Are you okay? Do you need me to get someone, or something?" he asked.

The girl sat up and ran her fingers through the loose part of her ponytail. "Yeah, get yourself a chill pill, I'm fine." She rolled her amber eyes and stood. "I'm just tired. I was knocked off my broom a total of five times, four of which I actually hit the ground." She looked confused for a moment. "Well, I suppose that I should thank you for catching me that last time," she admitted. "So thanks."

"You're welcome," James said a smirk on his lips. He looked at her carefully. He noted that she wasn't putting an equal amount of weight on both feet, and a trickle of red slipped through her fingers and on to the ground. "I sent Mclaggen up to the Hospital Wing; you should go up there too. You look kind of banged up."

"Are you worried about me, James Sirius Potter," the blond asked. She attempted to put her hands on her hips and cock her hip out to the side. However, it ended with her stumbling into James' chest. He laughed at her. "Shut it," she snapped as she pushed away from him, her hand left a faint blood print on his shirt. "Sorry 'bout that," she said gesturing to it. "But you still haven't answered my question."

"No, I wasn't. I hate you, remember? I was worried about the team's Center Chaser," he told her. Miller started off towards the castle, a limp in her step. James sighed; his mother had raised him to help those in need. "You want me to help you?" In response, the Miller pulled her wand out and flicked it once. Suddenly, the ground around James was on fire. He immediately reached into this pocket and then mentally slapped himself. He'd left his wand in his bag. "Devyn Miller, I hate you."

"I know," she shouted back.


III.

He looked at her and it was like someone had punched him in the chest. He looked at him and it was like someone had pushed him off his broom. He looked at them, together, and he felt like he'd been hit with a thousand Cruciatus and Killing Curses all at once, and he didn't die. He only felt the thousand and one billion needles in his skin. He glared down the table at them as they laughed and held hands. He buttered her toast and she blushed, taking it gently. Her amber eyes danced, well at least on the surface they did. He knew her. He knew she was in as much pain as he was. He knew that she was breaking. He was breaking, and James Sirius Potter never broke.

"James, stop glaring you're making it snow," a red haired third year told him. James looked up and saw that he was indeed making it snow over him and the rest of his red-haired family. James lowered his eyes to the table and sighed. "James, she'll come back."

"Nope, don't want her, I hate her," James said. "I despise her, Rose."

"Um, no you don't," his cousin told him from beside him. "She's not happy with him. You can see it in her eyes."

"James did say some mean things to her though," Lily added, chewing on a piece of bacon.

"Like?" he asked.

"You called her a know-it-all freak," Lily reminded.

"That was after she said that my ego fed off the fame of my father," James interrupted.

There was a soft sound from behind him and he looked up to see what it was. It was Miller. She was standing near him; something that she hadn't done since their argument. Her hands were placed firmly on her hips and her pink lips were pursed. "Hello," she said quietly. "I see that you are talking about me."

"That's right, because I despise you, Miller," James snarled, turned away from her. He didn't spot the hurt in her eyes. "What do you need?" However, by that time she was gone. He looked back and just spotted her blond hair leaving the Great Hall. James shrugged and turned back to Rose, who kicked him under the table. "What?"

"That was so uncalled for," Lily answered for her cousin. "She was going to apologize to you."

"Whatever, she was coming to rub the fact that she was with someone else in my face," James assured.

"Dev isn't that kind of person," Rose replied as she closed her book. "You should hate yourself more than you hate her." Lily agreed with a silent nod.

"Nope, now I hate her, because she's turned you two against me," James stated as he tossed the crust of the toast on to the plate before him. He stood as shouldered his bag. "To class," he announced as he walked with his two red haired family members.