Author's Note: Just a warning that this is a second generation fanfiction, meaning the James Potter is James Sirius Potter/James Potter II, Harry's kid, not his father James Potter I. This is also set in James' final year, meaning it is Albus and Rose's 6th year, and Hugo and Lily's 4th. So this is just a warning to stop people from raging if that seems like a spoiler to the books, although the kids are included in the movie so if you saw that, it won't be a spoiler even if you didn't read the books.

Also I'd like to thank EmodinosaurX3 for the characters she's contributed. ^^ Bah, this took me longer than expected to write because I am exhausted. BUT! I got my early entry into Pottermore. :D So I'm pleased.

A Harry Potter Fanfiction


OC: Darcy Simmons/OC: Emmett Boot

Chapter One

"That's it, we need to break up."

Those seven words blurted out of my mouth in the heat of one of our usual arguments before my mind could even register them, but even after staring into his horrified expression and realising what I had said, I didn't take it back. I couldn't take it back because I knew I had meant it, I knew I would have to do it eventually; I had just hoped to do it in a more gentle manner. After all, we had been together for over a year and even if he was being an infuriating prick, it seemed like a gentle break-up would have been the right thing to do and I would have done it, if I didn't let my anger get the better of me. Unfortunately for me, James Potter let his vengeful fury get the better of him too.

We had been friends for half a decade by the time he stepped forward and asked me out, the better of our fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry spent exchanging lingering gazes, soft touches, and casually flirting. By the end of the year, I had opted to spend my summer at the Burrow, home to the gargantuan Weasley clan with the Potters visiting as well. My muggle mother was treated to a trip throughout America with my older brother–having only just turned sixteen, I couldn't go, my age making me unable to do over half the things they would in the foreign country–whilst the parents of the Potters and Weasleys departed to explore Europe, needing time to reconnect with their respective partners, leaving only Victoire Weasley and her boyfriend Teddy Lupin to watch over us–although they spent most of their times snogging each other's faces off.

I had arrived days after we had left school, excited to spend the entire summer with my friends, the closest of which were cousins Roxanne and Rose Weasley, despite the latter being a year young than me. I had spent my entire first morning practicing Quidditch with Rose's younger brother who would soon enter his third year at Hogwarts with high hopes of making the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I abandoned my friends who lay out in the summer sun to shower in the small bathroom adjoined to Roxanne's bedroom where I would be staying; knowing that such taxing amounts of exercise in the blistering heat did not exactly make you smell appealing.

Unbeknownst to me, the trio of Potter children were invited to stay, one in particular being coyly ordered to grab something from Roxanne's bedroom, which was tucked away in the attic, ensuring the pair of us had complete privacy. When I emerged from the bathroom, my curved figure covered only by a damp towel with my soaking golden tangles falling about my shoulders, I let out a piercing shriek, my heart thumping so violently that I feared I may just faint as I stared at the tall figure of James Potter searching about in the bedroom, unaware of my place in the loo.

His bright chocolate brown eyes widened in shock as he gazed upon my scantily clad figure, eyeing up every sliver of my sun-kissed skin that no one other than me had ever seen before. He shook his untidy mop of dark sienna brown hair out of his eyes, quickly looking away as he noticed my humiliated expression, my jaw hanging open in disbelief. Suddenly, the pair of us burst out laughing, the awkward situation quickly evaporating as we ended up lost in conversation–leading me to almost forget I was only wearing a towel–that lasted until the late evening, ending with us officially becoming a couple.

The rest of the summer was spent happily locked in one another's arms, sneaking off for a snogging fest, letting our hands rummage over the other's body. But when we returned to school for our sixth year, our happiness–or at least mine–was short-lived once James was reunited with his group of male friends including Gabriel Thomas and Cassair Finnigan, two boys I considered my friends as well. This meant a lot of my time spent with James was around the duo that formed his best friends, us forming a quartet of sixth year Gryffindors, something I was content with at first, although I did wish for time alone with my boyfriend.

It wasn't until Quidditch season began that the arguments did too, James becoming a different person whenever he was around his moronic buddies or the Quidditch players, most of which were men apart from Lily, Roxanne, and me. Whenever he was around them, my dreams of becoming a world renowned Quidditch player were all a joke, a ludicrous dream to mock as if a woman could never achieve such things. When we were alone he would boast about how I was the best Chaser on the team, my skills far surpassing most–if not all–of the other players, yet when we were in public, I would be mocked, even belittled relentlessly, James becoming a sexist pig in the process.

I wondered why he never subjected his cousin or little sister to such torment or why I never noticed it before, maybe it was all done in secret and now that I was around his imbecilic comrades all the time, I was exposed to it. Either way, I was so infuriated that by Christmas, our first major row happened. But with the holidays spent away from his friends, just him and I together most days without any interruptions, everything patched over quickly, thrusting us back into the honeymoon stage. I should have expected him not to change even after we had spent over an hour shouting back and forth about his behaviour, but I was a fool, hoping that my first boyfriend–Quidditch often preoccupying most of my time, preventing me from concentrating on men around me or becoming boy-crazed like many other girls my age–would be wonderful, faultless, a boy to remember.

Somewhere amongst the fiery arguments, strings of profanities–on my part–and countless days spent ignoring him, not to mention I had to practically hold myself back to stop me from ploughing my fist through his smug face, I knew our relationship would end soon. And it did, the first week back at Hogwarts for the start of our seventh year. I just couldn't handle the stress of him anymore with my N.E.W.T.s coming up and Quidditch scouts soon to drop by and observe matches, he was driving me up the wall and I was absolutely sick of it. That's why, in the midst of shouting and screaming at him for being such an arrogant pig, I ended it, my whole figure practically shaking with rage. He knew how much Quidditch meant to me, he knew it was my whole world and still is, yet he treated it like something I might as well abandon, having no hope of success. I couldn't be with someone like that, I deserved better.

And that incident is how I got here, walking into the Great Hall all alone, dressed in my Gryffindor uniform with my light hair pulled back loosely, stray strands falling free to frame my face along with my side-swept bangs. I reluctantly sit myself with the second years, who are chattering away incessantly, but they are more tolerable than first years that I'd probably end up hexing into oblivion if I sat with them. I prop my elbow up onto the table, resting my jaw on my fist as I move food about my plate with a fork in disinterest, feeling far too deflated to bother eating.

As I glance about the Gryffindor table, I can see the seventh years on the far end along with the younger members of the Potter and Weasley families, all of them freezing me out completely as James had done, opting to choose his side rather than remain impartial–the latter of which I had wanted them to do, this was between James and me, not them. It has been over a week since our break-up, but in that time, his friends and family have only spoken to me when absolutely necessary such as in class or our dorms, but even then the sentences are short and curt, the conversations ending seconds after they have begun. All I felt in those passing days and at this very moment was betrayed, alone, hurt, no one would even give me the decency of listening to my side of why we broke up, I was just automatically pronounced the bad guy as not only is blood was thicker than water, but his best friends lack enough of a spine to make their own decisions.

Suddenly, James catches my gaze, returning it with a cold glare as he mutters something to Gabriel and Cassair before smirking mischievously. I feel my eyes widen as he beckons for me to come over, his smirk only growing as he notices my disbelief. I quickly return my stare to my food, reluctantly shovelling it into my mouth, knowing that I would regret not eating when classes began and I would be running on empty.

"Hey," A girlish voice interrupts me as I gulp down my mouthful of food before taking a sip of my orange juice, glancing at the second year speaker. "You dated James Potter, right?"

I bob my head into a nod, leading her to squeal with delight, her auburn curls bouncing about her elbows as she frantically turns to her friends and informs them of her discovery. They join in with her aggravating squealing as I feel a frown spread across my lips, my eyes narrowing into a murderous glare.

"I may have dated James Potter, but I rue the day I ever met that pathetic, arrogant, pig-headed moron," I hiss venomously, drawing my wand from my cloaks as a demonic grin spread across my lips. "And if you little girls do not shut your little mouths right now, I will make sure you rue the day you ever spoke a single word to me."

The girls stare at me wide-eyed, fear spreading across their features as I half-expect them to faint on the spot or wet themselves the longer they stare at me. They quickly bow their heads, not daring to look me in the eye as I return to playing with my food, my grin dropping, my face regaining its neutral expression of disinterest. Well, at least that was entertaining, maybe sitting with the second years wasn't such a bad idea if I can make little make them quiver in their boots at the mere sight of me, plus it stops them from annoying me anymore. I can't help but be pleased with myself as I devour the remains of my scrambled eggs, lucky that I have Quidditch to burn off all of the food I consume or else I might just be the size of a beach ball, seeing as I've spent the better of my seventeen years of life surrounded by teenage boys who practically eat their body weight in food a day.

"E-e-e-excuse me," The second year stutters as I arch my eyebrows, surprised that she's pushing her luck by speaking to me once again until she points a stubby finger passed me. "H-h-he is h-h-h-here..."

I whip around to be greeted by a trio of figures I can easily recognise as James and his two closest companions. Cassair is the shortest of the three, but still stands tall, his uniform left askew with his tie loosened around his neck, his shirt not tucked into the brim of his slacks, and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing his fair-skinned forearms. Wispy sandy-coloured hair clings to the nape of his neck, loose bangs cascading over his face, falling into his hazel eyes, a feature of his that I have grown used to girls deeming sexy. His lips are pulled into a knowing smirk, his arms folded over his chest, the silver ring slipped onto one of his fingers glinting in the candlelight, a green shamrock-shaped gem held in the centre to reveal his Irish heritage.

Gabriel doesn't look as pleased as the other pair, standing the tallest out of them, although only an inch or two taller than James at the most, his athletic figure dressed in a flawless uniform that contrasts Cassair's. His ebony curls fell about his face, cropped in a short cut due to his unruly curls, skimming just above where his almond-shaped eyes sat, their colour mirroring his dark chocolate-coloured skin tone.

"What do you imbeciles want?" I snap in irritation, wanting nothing more than to smack the smug smirks off of James and Cassair's faces.

"I see Simmons has her panties in a knot." Cassair teases with a chuckle as I shoot him a glare.

"You're going to want to hear this," James intercepts before I can snap a profane remark at his friend. "Quidditch team trials start after the weekend."

"Let's see, I've gone to this school for years and been on the Quidditch team for almost all of them," I mock in a faux imbecilic tone. "But I must say I am amazed to know that these trials you speak of will be on the same day they have been for all those years."

"You're utterly hilarious, that's clearly why you have so many friends here with you," He snarls, narrowing his eyes at me as his smirk grows. "I just wanted to tell you that there's no point in turning up. You're off the team and I don't fancy your chances of ever getting back on it. And I'd trust my opinion; I am the Captain after all."

I stomp into Charms–a class I share with Ravenclaw seventh years who find Charms far more interesting than most Gryffindors–my arms folded tightly over my chest, my eyebrows knitted together over my eyes which are set into a hard, stone-cold glare. I climb into a desk, not a single student daring to sit next to me or even glance my way for fear of being caught in the crossfire of one of my infamous foul moods. I don't just hate James Potter; I despise him, my hands itching to wring his neck. I feel no regret for what I did to him for he deserved it, the absolute pig.

How dare he remove me from the Gryffindor team? How dare he let personal matters get in the way of Quidditch? How dare he abuse his position as Captain? How dare he even breathe the same air as us decent human beings?

I am so caught up in my loathing thoughts for my ex that I don't notice the figure reluctantly sit down next to me, running his hands through his dark curls, sighing deeply to interrupt my thoughts. I shift my glare to Gabriel, a snarl spreading across my lips as I am preparing to drive my fist through his face if he dares taunt me with the position I am in.

"Aren't you afraid someone might see you with me and report it to your master?" I sneer.

"James is one of my best friends, Darcy," He protests. "I may not like it, but he's hurt and I need to stick up for him and comfort him."

"I'd think you would at least be smart enough to make up your own opinions on people, especially someone you've spent over a year being friends with," I challenge, slouching in my chair as I redirect my glare to the front of the class as the professor begins his lecture. "There are two sides to every story, Gabriel. And just so you know, you can comfort him without being a complete arsehole."

"I haven't done anything, I just–"

"You haven't done anything?" I repeat incredulously before rolling my eyes. "You're right; you did nothing, that's the problem. You and Cassair just stood by as James threw me off the team. Everyone knows how much Quidditch means to me, how is any team going to accept me if I didn't even play it in my final year at school? If I've gone a year without practice? If the scouts come and don't see even a snippet of my abilities? Yeah, you haven't done anything except let James jeopardise my future like the absolute prick he is."

"Darcy, he will take back what he said soon enough. This won't last, he'll realise that that was too far and take it back."

"Now you're just being delusional," I lower my voice, trying to appear as if I am taking notes on the lecture. "You and I both know James is a stubborn, arrogant pig and will never go back on his decision, he can barely admit he's wrong about the flavour of one of Bertie Bott's jelly beans. I just hope that this year, someone puts him in his place, someone beats that bastard where he thinks he is the greatest, the Quidditch field."

With that, I turned away from Gabriel, ducking my head to catch up on the lecture, sitting on an angle so that I don't even have to glance at the boy sitting beside me. And that's when it hit me; letting me know exactly what I had to do about this, after all, if you can't join them, beat them.