mind your manners - albus Dec 4, 2013 1:29:34 GMT
Post by Deleted on Dec 4, 2013 1:29:34 GMT
James’ quidditch season was long over. The Falcons had done alright in their division- made it to the playoffs, even! Unfortunately, they lost their semi-final match to Puddlemere United and ranked below the Wimbourne Wasps, who’d also lost in the semi-finals (to the Chudley Cannons, who, in a miraculous turn of events over the past five years had gone from time again losers to the dominant team in the English league, had won the English Premiere Cup). This placed them fourth in their league for the year. Out of all the teams that the English Premiere League boasted, fourth was nothing to sneeze at. Surely, Adrian Pucey, James’ coach, was not thrilled. James, however, after a day or two of fuming, had quite put the loss behind him and once again began to revel in his newfound fame and fortune.
His level of celebrity had not skyrocketed due to his Quidditch ability alone. Surely, James was one of the best on his team. Given his age, his name was spoken often in the quidditch community (he had been in many a fantasy league’s first-round of drafting). However, the majority of his celebrity was drawn from other areas. Firstly, his family was often a target of attention from a young age. He was Harry-freaking-Potter’s kid. The last name ‘Potter’ in the wizarding world caught attention on its own. Secondly, he was terribly good-looking, in the most genuine and frustrating sort of way (frustrating purely because of his awareness of his good looks and his complete lack of tact in reminding everyone else). Thirdly, James was an attention-seeker by nature; he loved the paparazzi almost as much as they loved him. Everything he did was followed in some fashion; he was just followable. He liked to imbibe, be loud, cause a scene- everything that the media loved to lap up. He never failed to please them.
The latest news was that the on again, off again relationship between him and Calista Warbeck, teen queen and daughter to the famous singer Celestina Warbeck, was currently in the ‘off’ position. These latest whisperings caused more of a stir than the usual musings, as James had been photographed at a party (after some Witch Weekly awards show) very publicly and graphically canoodling with a model from Witch Weekly France (whose name he probably didn’t remember, or possibly know in the first place). Fortunately, James was able to escape the business and business of that scandal and his home on Diagon Alley (seemingly always littered with people looking to photograph or talk to him) in order to see his family. When he went to visit his siblings at Hogwarts, he usually dropped in at Hogsmeade. The Three Broomsticks was the obvious choice- Rosmerta loved him, and he usually got his first butterbeer on the house (though he always tipped her extraordinarily well…he’d been sweet on her since he was thirteen).
After a rousing round of small talk between himself and the barmaid in question, James ducked towards an empty table, sure that his brother, for whom he’d already secured a butterbeer, would appear soon. He amused himself while waiting, however- a small gaggle of girls (fourth of fifth years, by the looks of them) were crooning and whispering in his direction. He grinned and continually winked at them, positively bemused by the small eruption of squeals that rose from them when he did.
notes: I JUST INVENTED FANTASY QUIDDITCH