James Sirius Potter had not started to fall in love with Augusta Longbottom until after Hogwarts. At school, he had always known her as a quiet, studious girl that he happened to know, but as she was a Hufflepuff, he rarely saw her or spoke to her outside of family functions they both attended, as their families were friends.

However, a couple of years after he graduated from Hogwarts, James was celebrating his first win as Keeper for Puddlemere United, finally having been promoted from his inauspicious role as backup. He and his friends gathered at the Leaky Cauldron to drink to his success. James had little experience with Firewhiskey, as his father rarely drank, and Aunt Hermione always nagged Uncle Ron into leaving or going to bed when it looked like he was getting pissed. His first experience with too much alcohol hit him pretty hard, and he was about to vomit.

Luckily for him, a pretty young barmaid, who looked vaguely familiar, was ready to steer him to the back to vomit, out of the public eye, for which he was later grateful. But that night, he had no control over himself. After he emptied the contents of his stomach all over her shoes, a mere foot away from the toilet, he proceeded to knock himself out cold on the edge of the sink, falling into the puddle of his own sick. His shame did not stop there, however.

After sweet Augusta had cleaned both him and his mess, he was vaguely lucid as she tucked him into bed, which he assumed was in one of the rooms for rent. When James later regained consciousness, it was about three in the morning, and she was there, sleeping in an armchair next to his bed. She awakened when she heard his sheets rustling and leaned over to check on him. When he sat up, he realized that he was very naked, but that did not stop him. Like the foolish charlatan he was, he sloppily kissed her. After her head jerked away in shock and indignance, James realized his mistake as he saw her fist careening toward his face.

After James was roused from his stupor once again, this time by the glaring sun streaming through the uncurtained window, his head felt like it was about to explode. He didn’t dare open his eyes all the way, for fear that his pupils would catch fire. Squinting heavily, he pulled his bare torso from the soft, inviting bed. James groped the bedside table in search of his glasses, and he absently jammed them on his face when he found them.

James looked up when his eyes adjusted to the brightness in the room, only to lock eyes with his father. Harry Potter sat there, regarding his son with a mixture of amusement and fatherly sternness. So, his oldest had discovered Firewhiskey for the first time. He was torn between relief that this one of many hurdles on the path to manhood was finally over and dismay, since the whole thing had taken place in Hannah’s bar. He made a mental note to himself to send the Longbottoms a thank you gift for not chucking James out on the curb, as he had probably deserved.

Harry sat patiently for his son to break the silence. He could see James squirm under his gaze, the way he used to when he was a boy and doing something he knew he should not. The elder Potter observed his offspring attempt to look out the window, presumably to see what the time was (it was eleven o’clock) by the position of the sun. James quickly lay back down and threw a pillow over his face, groaning. Harry chuckled.

James, aware that his father was waiting for him to speak first, finally pulled the pillow from his face to find Harry shaking. What was up with that? Was he laughing? James felt indignant. Here he was, suffering, and Father was bloody laughing at him.

“Just what the devil is so funny?” James decided to not talk anymore, for his throat felt as if it was full of bile-soaked cotton.

At James’s statement, Harry could not contain himself anymore. He burst into full-blown laughter. He covered his mouth in an unsuccessful attempt to stifle his laughter. After his mirth was spent, he put on a straight face and looked back at his son, who was now glaring daggers at him.

“Are you finished laughing at my expense? I’m naked and I have no idea why. Care to laugh about that, as well?” James was starting to get very annoyed with Harry, who he was sure had never been caught in a predicament like this one his whole life. “How did you know I was here?”

Harry, again very close to laughter, smiled. “Hannah owled me and told me a young man who greatly resembles me was extraordinarily drunk and may need to be checked in on in the morning. Knowing Albus is was at school, it had to be you. I had rather hoped I was wrong, but I’ve been expecting this particular event since you were old enough to know what Firewhiskey is.”

James sat up and winced as the pain in his head protested greatly to motion. That was when he noticed that his left eye was not quite as wide open as his right. He gingerly touched the tender skin; it was hot and hurt like hell. He had a black eye, but how did he-?

Slowly, it dawned on him how he got his shiner. “Shit! Where are my pants? I have to find her!”

Harry, momentarily taken aback at his son’s use of profanity, got up and retrieved the fresh change of clothes he had brought with him. He tossed the neat bundle on James’s lap, who started getting dressed so hurriedly, he put his shirt on backwards. It was then that Harry realized what his son had just said. “Find who?”

“Oh, I’m a git. I’m an enormous git! Ah, hell!” James fell over onto his rear as he hurriedly tried to jam his leg into his pants. James shut his mouth before the expletives that were crossing his mind dared to cross his lips. He settled for unintelligible grunting. He knew that Harry was watching, probably laughing at him again, but this time, he didn’t care. He ignored the pain in his head and his now agonizing bum, because he felt a burning need to find Augusta and grovel at her feet for forgiveness.

Harry was incurably curious as to the identity of She-Who-Must-Be-Found. “Find who, James?” Harry repeated.

“Augusta!” James shouted, as he looked around frantically for his shoes. Finding them, he sat on his bed to ram his right foot into the wrong shoe. “Bloody hell!”

“Why do you need to find-“ Harry cut himself off when thought of his son’s state of dress when he arrived and his current desire to seek her out immediately. “You didn’t-did you?”

James looked at his father in horror. “No! Of course I didn’t…at least I’m pretty sure I didn’t. I’m not entirely sure, but I know I got this black eye from her.” When his shoes were finally on his feet, James vaulted from his seat on the edge of the bed and flew out of the room. Harry shook his head and followed him out the door, but at a much more sedate pace.

As James raced down the stairs, he looked from side to side, desperate to catch a glimpse of his quarry. He tore through the hallway and saw Hannah Longbottom, wiping down a recently vacated table. He skidded to a halt breathlessly.

“Where’s Augusta, Mrs. Longbottom?” James practically panted out the question earnestly.

Hannah looked at the young man whose father she had summoned to wake him and take him home. She was very aware of the reason James sought her daughter. Augusta had cried on her shoulder for almost an hour last night, because James, for whom she had been pining since her fifth year at Hogwarts, had drunkenly kissed her, and instead of kissing him back, she punched him in the face. The puffy, purple circle that surrounded the young man’s left eye bore evidence to the latter.

The wary mother debated whether she should tell him where to find her daughter or not. She relented, because if her daughter was to be able to put this behind her, she needed to confront him one-on-one.

“I see you’re feeling better. She’s out back, taking out the trash.” Hannah looked James over, head to toe and commented, “Your shoe is untied. You should be more careful running about, or you’ll take a nasty fall.”

James, dismayed at being told to tie his shoe in a room full of people like a small child, quickly tied his shoe. He grumbled a ‘thank you’ as he sped out of the room. As he swung out the door, Harry entered the room, still walking at a leisurely pace. He walked over to Hannah and picked up the stack of plates she was about to remove from the table.

“Oh, Harry, you don’t have to do that!” Hannah practically shrieked in protest.

Harry smiled his most winning smile, the one that more often than not got him out of trouble with Ginny when he committed some imaginary foul. “Nonsense, Hannah, dear. It’s the least I can do after you kept my son from embarrassing himself too much last night.” He firmly wrestled the plates from Hannah’s grasp, and both of them walked back to the kitchen to unload.

“Oh, that wasn’t me, Harry. I was the one who shouldn’t have served him as much as I did. It was Augusta who took him up to a room to sleep it off.” Hannah pulled out her wand to start cleaning up the kitchen.

As he watched his old school friend obliviously cleaning up her kitchen, Harry wondered if she knew more about what had occurred last night between his son and her daughter, and if he dared to ask. Throwing caution to the wind, he decided to ask that loaded question.

“Hannah, do you have any idea what happened between those two last night? James literally fell all over himself trying to get dressed, rambling over and over that he was a git and that he needed to find Augusta.” Harry looked at her hopefully.

Hannah looked at Harry’s inquisitive face, debating how much to tell him, if anything at all. He was a good man, and he had raised a good son. James was undoubtedly trying to find her daughter to ask for forgiveness, because that would be what Harry would do. Knowing the information would not go beyond the two of them, she relented.

“Last night, when James was about to vomit all over himself, Guss took him to the loo, trying to keep him from being sick all over himself. When she failed to prevent that, she took him upstairs and put him in a room and took his clothes to be cleaned. She wanted to make sure he was going to be all right, so she stayed in the room to keep an eye on him.

“He woke up around three, and she was a little groggy but awake, as well. When he sat up, she started toward him to help him straighten out. Apparently, his judgment was still clouded, because he chose that moment to try to kiss her.” Hannah saw Harry snicker as he shook his head knowingly and continued. “She’s had a thing for the boy since she was fifteen, but she never actually thought anything would come of it, and well, she panicked. Instead of kissing him back like she really wanted to, she…she…” Hannah was trying to finish her sentence before allowing herself to be consumed by her own amusement. “She clouted him, right in the eye!”

Hannah giggled as Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, contemplating what he should do to remedy the situation. This was easily high on the list of stupid things his son had done. Of course, it wasn’t quite as bad as paying a First Year to fly a broom up the stairs to the girls’ dormitory in Gryffindor Tower to toss a Dungbomb, but it was close. Hannah was obviously not troubled by it, so Harry relented and chuckled along with her.

“Should we do anything, or should we let them sort it out for themselves?” Harry considered his fellow parent as she thought about what he had said. He was hoping she would answer, because he, Harry, had no bloody idea what to do. Sure, he had done the talk about girls when his son was fourteen, but this was a unique situation. He rocked back and forth on his heels nervously as Hannah had seemed to make a decision.

“I think this is something they should work out on their own. They’re both adults now, and we can’t be running about cleaning up after them forever. Consider this a sort of test of character.” Hannah immediately knew that it was the right thing to do as she saw Harry smile.

Relieved, Harry felt any apprehension he had drain out of him at Hannah’s words. Of course, she was absolutely right. James was an adult and insisted he be treated like one. Now was his chance. With that resolved, Harry pulled out his money purse. “So, how much of a tab did he rack up last night? Knowing him, he probably bought drinks for his mates, as well.”

Hannah grinned. “That he did. Fortunately for your purse, he left all his gold with me when he came in and asked me to tell him when it ran out, so he could start asking his friends to pay up.” She went to the cash register and pulled out three Sickles and one Galleon. “This is his change.”

Harry looked at the small amount of money and asked, “Out of how much?” Merlin save the boy if he spent his entire pay on a drunken excursion.

“I think it was about thirty Galleons when he started. He and his mates have quite the appetite for Firewhiskey, I daresay. They can really put it away.” Hannah chuckled to herself at the memory.

Harry groaned. “Damn. That was the rest of his money, and he won’t have any more until next week, and the boy has to eat.” Harry reached into his purse and pulled out a handful of various coins. He handed them to Hannah. “Please don’t tell him I did that.”

Hannah smiled and nodded. “Consider it done.” She turned and fished out James’s coin pouch and poured the money from her hands into the top of the bag. Turning back around, she lit up. “Harry, do you have time to stay for lunch?”

Feeling at ease once again, Harry once again grinned and indicated that he would love to do just that. The pair left the kitchen and settled at a table where a member of Hannah’s staff came over to serve the laughing pair of former schoolmates as they shared stories about their children.

After he asked Mrs. Longbottom where to find her daughter, James practically ran out the door in search of Augusta. He felt like a complete ass, and he needed to apologize to her before it was too late. She would not be glad to see him, but he needed to make sure she knew that he was not really that big of a git and that he was truly sorry that he put her in such an awkward position. He really did deserve to be punched in the face. If he were in her position, he probably would have done the same thing. James then realized that Mrs. Longbottom had spent an inordinate amount of time perusing his appearance, and James stopped in his tracks.

As he looked down at himself, he realized that his shirt was twisted and wonky, his pants were unzipped, and his hair was probably an even worse disaster than normal. He diverted his course to the bathroom where he could straighten his clothes and attempt to tame his unruly hair. Curiosity got the better of him, and he blew into his hand and sniffed. Good Godric, his breath smelled like sick, and he didn’t have any Toothflossing Stringmints to remedy the situation.

Lamenting his deportment, James tidied his clothes and wet down his hair, silently begging it to stay still. It would not. Knowing he would not win this battle today, he concentrated on the problem of his breath. Not having any form of toothbrush, he settled for rinsing his mouth with water, which felt refreshing after the horrible taste that had inhabited his palate since he had awakened earlier.

Finally feeling fit for human company, James exited the bathroom, hoping Augusta was still outside. When he opened the door, the smells and sights of Diagon Alley greeted him. The scent of cooking food made him queasy, but he ignored his nausea and looked for the object of his search. When he rounded the corner between the Leaky Cauldron and Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor, he found her, sitting on a crate and daintily eating a small helping of the frozen confection.

Feeling eyes upon her, Augusta looked up from her bowl of chocolate ice cream. Her eyes narrowed as she identified the eyes as belonging to James Potter. She was not in an amicable mood, which was completely his fault. Even though she had no desire to discuss the previous night’s events, she found she could not look away. Merlin, the man was gorgeous.

Guessing that Augusta was not about to end the uncomfortable silence, James decided that he would do so. He swallowed around the lump in his throat as he mentally fished for the right thing to say, and he came up wanting. Well, he had to say something to her. He really was sorry about behaving like a cad, and he didn’t want her to hate him for it if he could help it. “ Er-I, um, well-“

She cut him off curtly. “Spit it out, Potter.” Augusta was irritated with James. How dare he do what he did and come to her without so much as a coherent thought. What a git!

James was thrown by her annoyed retort to his idiotic stammering. Merlin, I’m an idiot, and she knows it all too well, James thought. What the hell am I supposed to do? I’m such a git! Knowing he was rapidly losing his nerve, he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. This was a mistake.

“Your hair looks nice.” Stupid, Potter! Stupid, stupid, STUPID! he berated himself. Why could he not say something inoffensive; for the life of him, he could not come up with an answer to that dubious question.

“Is that all you have to say? Seriously?” Augusta wasn’t sure to be flattered that he liked her hair or angry that he would not apologize for his churlish behavior the previous evening.

James wanted to kick himself several times over. What the hell was he supposed to say to her? It was bloody obvious that she was aggravated, which was rapidly turning into anger toward him. While he did deserve it, James did not want her angry with him. I’ll bet she’s cute when she’s mad. Now, how the hell did that thought come to him? He was supposed to be apologizing to her for being a boor, and what was he doing? Checking her out! Merlin’s beard, he was in over his head. He had to get this over with before he made a complete ass of himself.

“No, that’s not all I have to say,” James said hotly. “I came to say I was sorry about the way I acted last night, but as you’re obviously in a foul mood, I guess I needn’t bother, since you’re probably going to slaughter me and sacrifice my netherparts on your alter to the bloody Bitch Goddess!” Good Godric, why did he say that? She is really going to tear him limb from limb, and he would deserve it and then some.

Augusta sputtered in rage. “How dare you, you vile excuse for a human being. You drunkenly try to snog me, and now I’m the villain? You are truly foul, James Potter!”

Not willing to end the conversation on that note, James tried to diffuse the bomb that he knew was going to blow at any minute. “Now wait a minute, Augusta. I really am sorry.” He hung his head, hoping to appear contrite. “I don’t know why I said that. I’m a git, and I deserve to be treated like one. I’m sorry…really.” James looked up hopefully at her, pleading with her wordlessly to accept his apology.

The fury in Augusta’s eyes diminished somewhat at the honesty in his voice. She truly believed that he was sorry. As he should be, the prat. She debated with herself silently as she continued to reflect on his words. She truly did not wish to be angry with James, despite what he had done last night and what he said not even two minutes ago. He had been the object of her affection for over two years, and he almost ruined that. What an ass! He really did seem like he meant it when he apologized, and that had to count for something.

Augusta made the decision that she was going to forgive his actions and his words, because he seemed like he could barely string together sentences as it was. Helga help me, that black eye looks bad, and his head must hurt considerably. She shook off that thought right away. No feeling sorry for the enemy. He got what was coming to him, and if he couldn’t handle his Firewhiskey, maybe he ought not drink so bloody much of it.

Knowing she was taking a long time to answer, Augusta picked her words carefully. “I believe you, Potter. I believe you really are sorry. I will accept your apology.

An unbridled sigh of relief he had not even been aware of storing escaped James’s lungs. She had given him forgiveness, which is exactly what he had set out to get. Well, not quite the way he had in mind, but it was enough that she did not loathe him like gum on the bottom of a shoe. He decided to approach her, test the waters, so to speak, to see where they both stood. He lifted her chin with the back of his fingers so that he could look directly into her eyes. Her eyes are the same color as her hair! Merlin, this girl really is beautiful!

“Thank you. I really do mean it.” James watched as the expression in her honey-colored eyes changed. She was not angry anymore, which was a welcome change. James ran his fingers along the line of her jaw, enjoying the feel of her pure skin, which was the color of cream.

When James touched her, Augusta felt like she had been burned. Fire coursed through her as if her veins were filled with lava instead of blood. She felt her whole body tingle, even in places she did not know beyond what the book her mother gave her when she was twelve had said those parts did. What were these feelings, and why wasn’t she still angry? He was touching her, and even after what he did last night, she liked it. That should not be possible. How was she supposed to stop it?

James felt his body tighten as he traced the delicate features of her face. He felt a maddening desire to crush her to him and kiss her until they were both dizzy. No! Absolutely not! He had just built a tremulous bridge over the gulf between them, and he could not allow himself to sabotage that.

James watched her eyes darken and her lips part as she was lightly panting. Either she was scared out of her mind, or she wanted him as much as he wanted her. As he considered the risks and the rewards of what he was thinking about doing, he plucked up every ounce of Gryffindor courage he could muster and lowered his mouth to hers.

Augusta felt his lips on hers, and her body celebrated. She was wrought with what she had finally identified as desire. She wanted James to kiss her and never, ever stop. This thought caused her to feel an imminent sense of panic. Not knowing what to do, she grasped the previously forgotten ice cream bowl in her hand and sent it crashing down on top of his head.

Augusta stared in horror at what she had done. She watched James slowly fall to his knees as his eyes rolled back, and he passed out. Oh Merlin, what was she supposed to do? How could she explain what she had done to her mother, to his father! A muffled shriek, which she supposed was her own, escaped as she fell down beside James. She cradled his head in her lap, and she lightly tapped her open hand on his cheek to try waking him. She rocked back and forth in trepidation, desperately hoping she had not truly injured him. Then he would hate her for sure.

Augusta felt him, rather than heard him, moan, and she looked down into his eyes, which were flickering open. When James caught her concerned gaze, his eyes lost their glassiness, and he smiled at her beatifically. Her heart melted at the corners of his mouth turned up in a most alluring manner.

Though his head was throbbing agonizingly, James could not help but be captivated by this girl who had knocked him out cold twice in less than twelve hours. What was it about her that held him captive? His judgment was obviously impaired by repeated blows to the head, for he spoke before he could stop himself.

“You know, you’re pretty when you’re mad.”

Augusta felt vexation flare at his words. What a conceited git! With that, she let his head fall out of her lap and onto the cobblestones of the alley as she stormed off in a fit of pique.