try your hardest to remember [james]

[Kamilla Lestrange]

Quidditch was supposed to comforting. It was meant to be a completely magical sport - absorbed in sheer adrenaline rushes, covered with galleon filled gambles. But today, underneath a gray mottled sky, it was nothing close to pleasurable. Every jagged jerk her broom took caused her thin body to experience brief fits of turbulence. Even her crooked yet slender fingers trembled with friction. The wind was too strong today, the sky was too gray today, the clouds were too thick today.

But Kamilla ignored the more than unlikable weather conditions and continued to fly. She gripped the leather Quaffle harder as her broom finally, and smoothly, accelerated forward. It seemed as if a blur of green was about to go through a copper - colored hoop when suddenly the figure abruptly screeched a stop. The only thing that continued to move was a flash of red; it seemed to detach from Milla's body and smoothly flew into the hoop.

It was a pleasant experience. She and her father had been working on that special maneuver for quite a while now. Progress had been halted and reduced to sporadic practices. A nagging mother was not a good ingredient to mix in, especially if that nagging mother held animosity towards the sport her family enjoyed.

So, with a smirk, Kamilla flew away - letting the Quaffle begin its quick descent towards the grass covered ground. She was a girl but she could still score a goal! "If you were here, you would see." Kamilla muttered bitterly as she slanted her broom so it formed an acute angle. She was heading straight into the ground when she saw an escaped bludger head towards her. She winced, quickly looked from side to side, and realized she was going too fast to know where she was.

The bludger connected with her body and radiated pain on her collar bone. Her hands quickly flew up, the fingertips soothing into the bruised skin. And then, with an absence of graceful balance, Kamilla began her descent towards the ground - following the falling Quaffle.

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[James Potter]

Broom in hand, scarf on neck, James walked slowly onto the Quidditch Pitch. He stopped, took a minute to inhale deeply. Ahhh, he sighed in his thoughts, a smile forming on his lips. He hadn't flown in so long.

Before T.O.R, before Ivy.. his whole life had been about flying and flirting. He flew everyday. He flirted everyday. He didn't want to settle down with a single girl. He just wanted to flirt with them all.

But now... Ivy had changed him. He was more secluded. He didn't talk as much as he used to. He didn't show off. He didn't come out to the Quidditch Pitch just because he knew there would be girls there watching him fly. He needed to act like he was in charge of T.O.R. He needed to be a leader.

James looked up, and his eyes grew wide. He started running. Someone was falling out of the sky! No, he saw a broom too. And a bludger. Someone had fallen off their broom. A girl.

He ran faster, until he was right underneath her. He threw
his arms out, closed his eyes, and swallowed hard. James wasn't that strong. He didn't know if he could catch a girl out of the sky. He felt the impact and opened his eyes, falling to the ground with the girl on top of him. He looked at her face.

Oh, shit. He thought. Shit, shit, shit.

It was Kamilla Lestrange.

[Kamilla Lestrange]

The arms that caught her had not been enforced with steel and so had to crumple. She tumbled to the ground with the boy who had caught her but she did not roll out. She stayed, cradled in his lean arms, staring up at the cloudy sky trying to catch her breath. An introverted gasp alerted Kamilla, who shifted her green eyes towards the face of her cushion.

James Potter was not supposed to be holding her.

In his arms.

While she was lying in them.

Staring at the sky.

In the Quidditch pitch.

Where they could be seen.

And so, panic filling her veins, Kamilla pushed herself off the ground, her hands accidentally pushing off James' palms. She stood up, her head dizzy, but on her own two feet nonetheless. She panted, her back still ached from the impact of her fall. Her eyes shot down, her lashes clustered. James Potter was the last person she would've liked to see. He was a confusing mess and at the moment, Kamilla just wanted to get her head cleared.

She didn't even have the mental ability to properly scar his pathetic soul!

And so, Kamilla forced herself to be polite and mutter a thank you.

[James Potter]

James pulled himself up so that he was sitting, propped up by his hands. His eyes darted around quickly, looking for anyone who could have seen what just happened. Unsuprisingly, no one seemed to be outside on this gray day. He let out a small, quiet sigh of relief, and pushed himself up to a stand, brushing his jeans and t-shirt off as best as he could. He then looked up at her.

"Your welcome." He muttered, looking Kamilla over for any case of injury, his face taking on a sort of angry look. "Are you okay?" He asked, the gentleman in him taking over, even if it was Kamilla. He almost took a step toward her, then decided against it, taking a step backward and turning to glance back at where he had dropped his broom, this was more than enough contact with her to last him the rest of the school year, now all he wanted to do was get his broom and fly. Being this close to her brought back too many memories, too many thoughts. The thoughts he had been trying desperately to forget since the day in the courtyard.

[Kamilla Lestrange]

Kamilla hugged her arms as she looked up at the sky. It was tumultuous, looming with gray, overcast clouds that looked like a dementor's flowing black robes. The air was musty, humid, and wet. It made Kamilla regret leaving her coat on her bed.

The sky seemed to bring out the gray in her eyes. The gray seemed to battle with the jade green. It created a startling but gorgeous mixture of slate green - hard but soft, cold but warm, open but mysterious.

"I'm fine. Thank you. What about you?" She quickly asked, her lips pinched tight with forced politeness. She looked at him and glanced at his drying shirt and his grass stained pants. She watched him stumble, lurch forward, push himself back and laughed. It was quite hilarious. The confident, sure James Potter had never before doubted anything he did or anything he said.

It seemed that he was unsure, doubting and analyzing his movements. It saddened Kamilla to realize this and her laughter quickly died, leaving behind a slight smile.

"I'm sorry. It's just . . ." She began but suddenly stopped. What should she say? She didn't want to hurt James' feelings. She didn't want to seem ungrateful for his appearance. After all, if he hadn't been there to catch her, she would have been forced to crawl to the Hospital Wing with a broken neck. "Er. Thank you?" She said again, fumbling for articulate words but failing miserably.

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[James Potter]

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine, just a little muddy now, is all." He said quietly, avoiding her eyes and looking down at his now stained shoes.

"I'm sorry. It's just . . ."

Yes, he knew what it was. The thing that had happened to them had been little, but it had made a big impact on his life, and he was sure it had made one on hers too. They were both pretty much the leaders of opposite sides, things like that couldn't happen between them. If their parents had found out.. it wouldn't have been good.

Thinking back to that time, it made him think of Ivy, and his whole body stiffened at the thought of his ex. James really had had some bad girl trouble this year, hadn't he?

"Yeah, your welcome. No big deal. I was just here at the right moment, I guess." Right moment, or wrong moment, it depended how you looked at it.

[Kamilla Lestrange]

His words were careful and strained. Kamilla was sure he wasn't the type of person to just absentmindedly toss away her words but he was muting her with his pinched words. The fresh, stale air was quickly becoming clenched - producing sharp snippets of awkward conversation between the two. Kamilla knew it was foolish to be so cautious around James. The two had never even been a couple, they had never done anything more than share a few minutes of conversation and a drunken kiss.

When fire whiskey consumed Kamilla's lithe body and frail mind, she did a lot of things. Kissing was one of them. She never remembered any of those moments that romantics would call special. When a moment was tainted by fire whiskey, it was best to simply forget it.

It was amazing that she had even been able to remember James Sirius Potter and the feelings that he conjured. She scolded herself silently, degrading herself to be a weak female who simply wanted to be swept off her feet like some foolish Muggle princess.

And then his body tensed up.

His eyes were winced shut, his body's light muscle was emphasized as everything was stretched out over a stiff canvas.

She stepped forward, her hand outstretched, hoping to help him. She wanted to ask him what was wrong. She wanted to forget that she was Kamilla Lestrange and he was James Potter. She wanted them to be just two strangers who had once known each other.

But Kamilla stepped back.

She had never known him. He had never known her. And that was the cold, cold truth.

[/blockquote]

[James Potter]

James ignored Kamilla, kept his eyes off her, and reached his hand into his back pocket to grab his wand. He held it in front of his eyes, examining it. There didn't seem to be any new scratches, or any cracks that shouldn't be there. He pointed it, and muttered a quick "Lumos." It still seemed to work properly, depite being landed on. And if it had broken, it would be his own fault, his mum had always told him and his dad that keeping their wands in their back pockets wasn't a good idea.

James lifted his head and turned his body toward his broom. He was going to be lazy today, he really didn't feel like walking, even that short distance. "Accio Firebolt." His broom soared into his waiting hand, and with one glance at Kamilla, he mounted it and flew into the air.

He had told himself he was done with Kamilla Lestrange. So why had he been so nice to her?

[Kamilla Lestrange]

His entire persona avoided her. He kept his all - telling eyes far, far away from her and even decided to angle his body away. She blankly stared at him, realizing that James had never meant to save her. He meant to save a random victim. He wanted to save a random girl who he had never met. He wanted to be a hero. Just like his father.

It was then that she angrily decided that James Sirius Potter was weak. He so desperately wanted to be something no one, not even he, could ever be. He wanted to uphold his glorious family name. He desired something brag about. He needed it. Just as she did.

And so, when James kicked off into the air abruptly, Kamilla felt no anger. She felt a strange mixture of emotions she would have liked to avoid. She didn't want to be confused by her sadness, frank realization, anger, and wanting. She needed a distraction - and it seemed that James had given her one.

She quickly summoned her broom, calling it just as Potter had. Her hand grasped the swift broom firmly. Kamilla didn't wince as the sleek handle of her broom crashed into her tiny palm. She was strong - or at least, she wanted to be. And today, in front of Mr. James Potter, she was going to be whatever the bloody hell she wanted to be.