The Not-So-Secret and Completely Manly Diary of James Potter by newyorkcitycop

Disclaimer: I own nothing, sadly.
Author’s Note: Inspired by Louise Rennison’s Georgia Nicolson books.

Sorry for the wait! This chapter underwent many, many revisions, most of them involving Lily. In the first version, she came over to James’s house and they snogged and it was awkward— I decided to change that because I’ve changed most of his interactions with Lily in previous chapters, and they don’t have the same relationship they did in the first version of the story, in which they were sort of friends; now she comes into his life for an hour and pisses him off so much that his whole summer is spoiled. I like it better this way, because I think it’s funnier, plus I can’t write the flirty little exchanges that the former required. I also took out a lot of the stuff with Eva/MFL, but they’d mostly just fucked with his mind for sport.

Review please!

July 31st
10:07 am
In Diagon Alley. Am currently sitting round an ice cream parlor, the name of which I have not even bothered to learn, waiting for Lily, because apparently our new Head Duties are so Important And Serious that I’ve got to take time out of my vacation to discuss them with her. Well, fuck her. I’ve come, but I’ve brought Sirius along with me, to punish her and perhaps even teach her a lesson. He was half-smashed when we left home and he’s just poured some vodka into his sundae so I’m confident that by the time she deigns to grace us with her presence he will be ready to either a) make a few suggestive comments about her body, b) subtly piss all over her common Irish heritage, c) ask her to rate Snape on a scale of one to ten, ten being “best shag ever,” or some glorious combination of the three.

10:33 am
She was supposed to be here at 9:45; it is now 10:33. Inexcusably rude, in my opinion. As I said to Sirius, “I could have things to do, for all she knows.”

“You don’t.”

“Yes, but the point is I could. I mean, Christ, looking after Peter alone is a 24/7 responsibility! I think I ought to tell Dumbledore about this, I really do, have her badge and title stripped. Would he let me name her replacement, do you think? Perhaps then Susan—”

Sirius started laughing so hard I thought he might choke, and his sunglasses almost slipped off his nose into his ice cream. “Susan doesn’t know shit about anything,” he said, eloquently, once he’d finished. He clenched his jaw very suddenly. “But at least she’s never shagged bloody Severus Snape,” he added, in tones of disgust & contempt.

“That’s what I’m saying!” I cried, banging my fist on the table. “I can’t honestly be expected to stand working so—”

Somebody coughed behind us. We turned irritably. It was Lily.

She just looked down at us and said, “Sorry to keep you from Peter. Shall we get started, then?”

We turned back round, and Sirius just shrugged. He says life is too short for him to worry about censoring himself. I wish I had his courage. I’m too well-mannered to not be hideously embarrassed whenever caught gossiping.

“You really shouldn’t sneak up on people and then eavesdrop on their private conversations, you know,” I remarked idly, stirring my nearly melted ice cream with barely-contained aggression.

Lily said, “Oho, you really shouldn’t talk shit about someone, loudly, in a public setting, and then try to blame it on me when you’re caught. Did you—”

She was interrupted by an old man bringing us some more sundaes. I vaguely recalled that he’d taken my and Sirius’s orders when we first arrived those dozens of hours ago. I looked down at sundae I already had, of which I’d only eaten a few bites, and then looked at the new one. Sirius pulled his sunglasses down a bit and did the same.

“We didn’t actually ask for these, thanks,” he said coldly.

“Quite. I wasn’t even sure if I was going to finish my first sundae,” I argued, “and I don’t see why I should have to pay for two extra ones when I did not, in fact, order them.”

The old man smiled at us (Sirius shuddered; he has a low tolerance for the elderly) and then babbled something about “Oh no, sonny, it’s on the house,” or somesuch. It was a bit difficult to understand him seeing as how he was missing most of his teeth. The only ones he had left were gold; they sparkled in the sun and were mildly distracting. Personally, I don’t know why people have gold teeth if they’re not pirates. There is just no excuse for poor dental hygiene, in my opinion. I myself use a high quality toothbrush Mum buys for me, and I have her replace it for me each month as per the advice on the back of the package, but really poverty isn’t any excuse not to brush; I’m told that there are some toothbrushes out there that are quite cheaply made & bought, and if this elderly sea dog is making enough money that he can stand to throw free ice cream round like this, I don’t understand why his mouth is in such a state. I shudder to think what his breath must smell like! But I digress.

The old man just stood there, grinning at us with his gold teeth in full view like he was proud of them or something. Me and Sirius simply looked up at him, and Lily kept watching us like it was any of her business, which it really wasn’t.

“So?” Sirius said finally, with that impatient bourgeois tone of his. “Can we help you with something, or haven’t you got any other customers to mind?”

The old man just laughed at us (at first I thought he was coughing up a lung), then waved, went on about some old-timey thing, like knuts, or coupons, or the Royal Air Force, or something, and then finally hobbled away. Sirius massaged his temples with a sigh once he’d gone.

“Incompetence,” he growled.

“Indeed,” I agreed.

Lily leaned back in her chair. “I’m so glad that all those etiquette lessons haven’t gone wasted on you two,” she said dryly.

“Christ, Evans,” Sirius exclaimed, “I never engage in any class warfare before noon. Change the topic, please.” But then he yawned and closed his eyes. Harassing the elderly & poor always puts him in the mood for a nap.

I hoped there might be a brawl right there in the middle of Diagon Alley, but, much to my shock and slight disappointment, Lily just looked at Sirius with her arms folded across her chest, and it almost seemed like she might smile. She suddenly reached out a hand and pulled my second sundae to her.

“Since you don’t want it, do you mind if I take it?”

I looked at her levelly. Normally I think the green of her eyes, especially coupled with her hair, is horribly tacky & Irish & common, but even I must admit that they look quite attractive in the sun. She smirked at me. I glanced away impassively.

“I wouldn’t recommend the flavor, which you would have known had you asked my permission beforehand, but suit yourself,” I sniffed.

As I said this she’d already broken apart the banana. Of course. She held up half of the broken banana and licked some whipped cream off it. I suddenly felt very warm.

“I think I’m getting heatstroke,” I told her.

She pulled the banana out of her mouth. “Lucky we’re right near St. Mungo’s, then, isn’t it?”

I shrugged.

“Right,” she said, sticking the banana back into her ice cream, “so Dumbledore suggested that we go over what—”

“How’s Dan?” I blurted out.

Lily blinked at me. “He’s stateside.”

“Oh.”

A pause, then: “How’s Susan?”

“In Spain, or something.”

“Oh.”

I stared down at my spoon and said, “A French girl moved in next to me, you know. We’re pretty close, me and her.” I stopped, then added, “She might even be as gorgeous as Brigitte Bardot, we haven’t decided yet.”

“That sounds like fun.”

“Oh it is. It’s been so nice to have an opportunity to brush up on my French. She’s a native speaker.”

“I figured as much but thanks.”

An awkward silence descended. I poked at my ice cream and coughed into my hand discreetly and said, “She eschews underwear, you know.”

11:25 am
Wandering round Diagon Alley in a towering rage. According to Saint Evans, I am consciously and deliberately trying to “make [her] jealous,” which is rubbish. It just simply could not be farther from the truth.

“Yes, I know,” droned Sirius, “the shouts did wake me up, you know.”

“Rubbish!” I repeated furiously.

Her Highness also said that, since we’ll be working together this year, we ought to at least act “civil” toward each other. As I said to Sirius, “As though I’d been throwing my own feces at her across the table! Honestly.”

He just yawned.

“I didn’t even tell her that I thought all her ideas were crap, even though I could have. Fat lot of gratitude she showed me.”

“Dazzling display of self-restraint, mate. I raise my glass to you.” Sirius lazily raised his imaginary glass. I knocked his hand away.

“Don’t patronize me,” I snapped.

Sirius simply raised his eyebrows at me in response. “I reckon you ought to get used to it, if you’re going to be working with Evans this year.”

I hate her.

11:28 am
I mean, honestly. What’s she on about, “why would I care what your French tart does or does not wear to bed?” I’M SORRY, I THOUGHT SHE WAS INTERESTED IN FRANCOPHONE STUDIES, MY MISTAKE.

Thirty seconds later
And so what if she chooses not to discuss Douchebag Dan’s holiday plans (ha) because “I don’t want to rub your face in it, and it’s called propriety?” USUALLY WHEN SOMEONE DOES NOT GO INTO DETAIL REGARDING THE WHEREABOUTS AND/OR DAILY ACTIVITIES OF HIS OR HER SIGNIFICANT OTHER, THAT SIGNALS THAT THEY ARE IN A PHYSICALLY AND EMOTIONALLY UNSATISFYING RELATIONSHIP. EXCUSE ME FOR BASING MY SO-CALLED “ASSUMPTIONS” ON FACT AND SOCIAL CUSTOM.

Five seconds later
And is she really so daft as to think “maybe we could integrate the Houses a little better—I’ve never really understood why we had to have separate tables during meals, for example”—WE HAVE SEPARATE TABLES BECAUSE I REFUSE TO FRATERNIZE WITH SLYTHERINS, THAT’S WHY.

11:30 am
“With that last one, maybe she’s angling for that threesome with you and Snape like you’re always talking about,” Sirius suggested, crassly.

I almost put my fist through the wall of the Magical Menagerie.

11:34 am
When we got home, Remus was sipping a gin & tonic and reading one of his fucking books. I nearly slapped the thing out of his hands; instead I shouted at him, “OH, OH, BY ALL MEANS, please don’t hesitate to relax on MY couch with your, with your INCEST while I’m stuck working ALL DAY and having to interact with members of SNAPE’S HAREM and being force-fed ice cream sundaes by SEA DOGS!”

Remus said, “All right, then, I won’t.” And he took another sip and turned the page with his pinky. I almost spit.

Remus looked up at me, set his book aside, furrowed his brow in feigned concern and asked, “Say, James, is something wrong? You seem a bit frazzled.” And he smirked and took another little poofter sip.

I decided that I wouldn’t even dignify his statement with a response, and simply grabbed his (half-empty, the glutton) bottle of gin and stalked off to the patio.

August 2nd
Noon
Lily sent a letter. Her owl is disgustingly feminine, and I fed the letter to one of the cats.

In more pressing, serious concerns, the house is simply stuffed with empty liquor bottles and we haven’t the faintest idea how to get rid of them before Mum and Dad come home. Peter proposed chucking them into the fire but we quickly vetoed that one (Remus said he was almost certain the bottles would give off toxins as they melted). Remus then suggested that we look in one of Mum’s millions of housekeeping books to see if there’s any spell that will help us, which is what we are doing now, by which I mean “what Remus is doing now as his two brilliant mates and the other one lounge around having grapes fed to them by those cats blessed with thumbs.” Not literally, of course; it’s more metaphoric.

12:04 pm
Remus said he didn’t find anything in the index.

“Well then look through the bloody book you git,” Sirius snapped, pushing his (metaphoric) cat away from him irritably. Remus just looked at him sharply and said, “I’m shocked you even know what an index is, considering the fact that the last time you picked up a book was first year after you got a concussion from that Bludger.”

Sirius said, with great dignity, “I picked up a book just last week, for your information.”

Remus replied, barely hiding his disgust, “Porn doesn’t count.”

“And why the bloody hell not?” Sirius demanded, sitting up straight.

And that is when I got up and left. I’m so sick of their bickering. They are like toddlers or something, and I am the unwed single mother, and Peter is the newspaper always lying on the table but never touched, and whenever we pass it we stare and say “Why is that old newspaper still there, it is from last month,” but we can never be arsed to throw it away because we are too lazy.

They think they can just walk all over me but I’ll have them know that I won’t stand for it anymore.

12:37 pm
They stopped shouting a while ago but I was too busy spying on Eva to care. Eventually Sirius came up, glowing and beaming at me.

“I’ve just had another brilliant idea,” he informed me, wiggling his magic fingers at me for some reason I don’t know. “Stained glass!” He seized an empty voskey bottle from my desk and waved it round at me excitedly.

I just shook my head at him. “Fool.”

“Well then what d’you suggest, genius?” he snapped, and hurled the bottle at my head. I don’t know why he always resorts to violence. I once again suggested therapy but he just cursed at me and went stomping off, even madder than usual if that’s possible.

August 25th
3:43 pm
Summer is quickly shaping up to be a massive disappointment. For some reason I’ve become very surly & irritable & drunk, which I think can be chalked up to the following list (in no particular order):

1. Eva is still too busy shagging MFL to give me the time of day. My grief is epic.
2. Remus & Sirius have yet to resolve their lover’s spat.
3. Peter.
4. Snape.
5. The cats.
6. Mum and Dad just got back from the Caribbean, and all they got me was one of those hideous “My parents went to the Caribbean and all they got were those sad little braids in their hair even though they are quite elderly, and then as an afterthought this shirt for me even though I will never wear it in a million years and they know it but it’s all for appearances so that when Dad’s idiot work mates come over they can force me into the shirt and trot me out and point and say ‘Look what we bought ickle Jamie!’” I AM NOT ICKLE NOR IS MY NAME JAMIE. CHRIST.
7. Lily Evans’s continual failures as a human being.

So to stray my thoughts from these distressing topics I am now preoccupying myself with how I am going to abuse my Head Boy power first, Evans and her Snape-hugging be damned! I have decided that a Slytherin will be the victim but the where, when, why and how of it are still up in the air.

3:55 pm
Sirius says it would be a laugh to have some Slytherin firstie shine my shoes for me.

“But that’s so simple,” I protested. “I want to be remembered, Padfoot. Whenever my name is uttered, I want it to strike fear and trauma into the hearts of Slytherin children everywhere. That is not going to happen if I just have one of them shine my shoes. I’ll have to give the kid a tip, for starters.”

“No, you don’t, that’s the genius of it, don’t you see?” he said excitedly. “Think about it, what it represents. It would be easy to just start giving out detentions for no reason. A Hufflepuff would do that. We want to be remembered, James. This is our last year. You’re Head Boy. A whole world of exciting new possibilities is open to us. If you do what I say, I promise that your name will strike fear and trauma into the hearts of Slytherins any place, any age.”

I was intrigued. “Please, go on.”

“We don’t just want to hand out detentions. We don’t just want them to hate us. We want to get in their heads. Psychological warfare, James, think about it!”

“I’m thinking about it!” I cried, and we both trembled with excitement.

4:00 pm
Me and Sirius are running round the house, so uncontainable is our excitement.

“Dammit, James, did you two eat all my sugar again?” Mum yelled as we raced past her in the kitchen.

We circled the table a few times, to give ourselves enough time to answer. “No!” And then we raced back out the door as she rummaged through the cabinets to search for her beloved, elusive sugar.

Five minutes later
Found Remus out back staring up at the sky. I ran up to him (Sirius just rolled his eyes and went back inside) and gushed, “Remus, me and Sirius have hatched a brilliant plan to ensure my legacy and I love it so much I want to have its babies even though it is physically impossible for me to do so.”

Remus just groaned and blocked out the sun with his hand. “I wish you’d stop being so stupid,” he said.

I laughed heartily. “Oh, Remus,” I replied, gazing down at him affectionately, “you are so rude to me, yet still I love you, yet still I will make sure to mention you in my memoir which will instantly go to number one on the best seller list. If you play your cards right, you might even get a cut of the profit.” And I winked roguishly at him and danced off.

You see? I am not so unreasonable; it does not take much to make me happy. All I demand is a little respect, for Christ’s sake.

4:15 pm
Danced right into the bushes separating Eva’s house from my own and found her and MFL locked in a sexy, passionate embrace. I’m not averse to voyeurism and I wanted to study MFL’s technique, so I crouched down and watched them go at it.

I do not think this day could get any better.

4:17 pm
Intrigue! Eva has just pulled away from MFL and is now weeping like Sirius did when he discovered his ruined jacket that one Christmas!

4:18 pm
And the plot thickens! MFL is whispering some sweet and undoubtedly sexy nothings into her ear, and yet Eva continues to weep. If he has hurt her, I will be forced to take action.

4:19 pm
MFL HAS DISAPPARATED WHAT. I was so shocked I fell out of the bushes; Eva heard the rustling of the leaves and glanced over.

“Is he going back to France forever?” I asked, more engrossed by the story than anything else, but she just kept looking and crying. It took only a moment for me to realize that MFL was gone, and that I had to, as Julius Caesar once said, “Carpe diem!” I sprung into action, standing up and taking a careful step forward. “Love’s a cheap, disease-ridden, tricky whore, isn’t it?” I tried, sympathetically.

She cried, turned and went inside.

A moment’s hesitation on my part, and all is lost.

6:47 pm
Eva is lying on her bed crying her eyes out. We know this because we are spying on her through my window.

“I don’t get it,” Peter said, squinting at her. “What’s she so upset about?” He started laughing and said, in a poor imitation of a French accent, “Oh la la, my buh-restz, zey ah so beeg-uh an’ my bottum-uh, eet eez zo roun’ an’ shapelee! Eet eez so deefeecult to be so gor-ghus! Nobodee cahn uhn-der-stan’ me! Boo ’oo!” And he nearly pissed himself laughing.

Me and Sirius halfway smothered him with a pillow as I snarled, “I’ll have you know that she is quite justifiably beside herself with misery. MFL has gone back to France for god knows how long, possibly forever; frankly I’m astounded she is even able to go on living. She is the bravest, sexiest person it has ever been my privilege to meet.” Sirius just yelled at him, “As usual, Peter, you know fuck all about everything.”

Peter didn’t care, though. He just giggled and squealed and thrashed about like we were playing a game with him, which we most certainly were not. Eventually me and Sirius got so disgusted with his behavior we just leapt off him and stalked back over to the window.

During all this mischief, Remus merely sat on the windowsill, watching Eva with unmistakable lust in his eyes. I was disgusted by this as well because in her time of heartbreak, Eva should not be ogled at or treated like she is some cheap, sexy plaything!

Remus just laughed when I said this. Appalling.

9:43 pm
I.

Am.

A.

GOD.

I have had sex with Eva. Yes, you read that correctly! I BANGED HER! Shout it from he rooftops, my friends!

I can now honestly say that yes, actually, I have had sex with a French woman and yes, actually, she was unbelievably sexy & gorgeous & did I mention sexy and yes, actually, French women are superior to British women in every way, shape and form. I am so ridiculously pleased with myself I can’t even think straight.

I’m so delirious I can scarcely hold my pen up, but I shall try to recount the night’s events, because this is, I think, the climax of my story (in more ways than one, oho): Mum bullied me into taking out the trash (I don’t even know what she has all those cats for if I still have to do everything for her), so as I was grumbling down to the sidewalk, dragging the bag along the grass, I spotted my darling Eva sitting on the curb all morose and whatnot, smoking and staring out at the street tragically. My heart went out to her. I dumped the garbage bag unceremoniously into the can and put my hands in my pockets, stepping a bit closer to her, yet still keeping my distance. I know she heard me because she twitched slightly at the sound of my footsteps and made a small noise of disgust.

I really did feel bad for her, so I asked, kindly, “How are you?”

She made no indication she heard me.

“Because you seemed pretty upset earlier,” I went on.

She just threw her cigarette down and stomped on it listlessly.

I decided to just cut to the chase, go all in and see if I couldn’t catch a break. “Listen, d’you want to fuck or not? I’ve been hitting on you for two bloody months and the way I figure, you at least owe me the decency to say no straight-out if it’s never going to happen.”

I wasn’t expecting her to say yes, or even respond to me at all. And for a minute, she didn’t respond at all, just kept staring at the street. Then, then, THEN! She sighed and said, “Why not.” AND GOT UP AND BECKONED ME TO FOLLOW HER INSIDE. I swear, I was so shocked my jaw dropped right onto the filthy sidewalk. Only for a second, though, after which I ran to follow her.

And the sex was BRILLIANT, let me tell you. Obviously my frame of reference is severely limited, seeing as how the only other woman I’ve had is Susan, but despite that I KNOW it was brilliant. Eva is totally different from Susan, and let me tell you, she was a welcome change. Susan just sort of lies there and giggles and makes me self-conscious, because I don’t know if she’s laughing at my terrible sex skills or just, you know, laughs during sex for the hell of it; Eva, on the other hand, actually PARTICIPATES and even TAKES CONTROL half the time. I will not go into detail, to protect Eva’s honor and keep this journal from becoming a cheap paperback romance the likes of which can be found under Mum’s side of the mattress, but my god, the things she does with her tongue! The way she throws her head back in ecstasy! HER BREASTS, THEY ARE SO MAGNIFICENT.

Afterward, she even let me lie next to her in bed, except she lit a fag and started smoking and turned away from me. I lounged there and grinned all round her room and asked, “So, that was great, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eva replied noncommittally.

I gazed at her adoringly. “We should do this every summer,” I said, and kissed her shoulder. She just shrugged but in my heart of hearts I know that she agrees, and that she had a great fuck as well.

11:07 pm
Sang and danced my way back home. Sirius was up waiting for me when I returned.

“Where have you been?” he demanded. “Do you know what time it is?”

“I have been on cloud nine, and it is time for love—it is always time for love!” And I sighed dreamily as I kicked off my shoes.

“Are you drunk?” he asked curiously, following the arc of my trainers as they sailed through the air before turning back to me, all ears.

“Drunk on love,” I replied, and wiggled my eyebrows at him smugly. “Ask me why.”

“I will not,” he answered stiffly.

“Oh, I can wait,” I assured him. I flopped onto my stomach and propped my head up with the palm of my hand as I smiled at him serenely.

I could see him struggling between his so-called pride and his overwhelming cat’s curiosity; eventually, the curiosity won. “Fine,” he said, through gritted teeth, “why are you ‘drunk on love?’ I am going to murder you, by the way.”

“I just had sex with Eva,” I told him, swelling up with pride.

A hushed silence followed. Sirius stared at me, positively dumb-struck. “You did not,” he said finally, in a harsh whisper.

“Except for when I did?” I said, and grinned wickedly. “Yes, it is true, I have bested you yet again. This now makes two women I have shagged, while you have romanced how many was it again oh yes that’s right NONE. You should feel proud of yourself. Except not really because that’s pathetic.”

Suddenly, Sirius began screeching and threw something at Remus to get him to wake up. Remus threw it back and said, in that great bedroom voice of his, “The fuck is your problem?”

“Apparently James has just returned from a roll in the hay with Eva,” Sirius spat out, looking murderously at me. I smiled sweetly in return.

Remus shot up. “You did not,” he said.

“Oh, but I did,” I replied. “Smell my fingers if you don’t believe me.” And I cackled.

After some more internal struggling, curiosity won out once more. “Give them here, then,” Sirius said stiffly, and grabbed my hands. He sniffed once, cautiously, before inhaling deeply.

“That’s the stuff,” he said gruffly, and kept smelling my fingers.

Remus just watched us with a mixture of disgust, rage and interest. “You two are so crude.”

I wrenched my hand away from Sirius’s nose and wiggled my fingers at Remus. “Come on, you know you want to . . .” I trailed off with an enticing flick of my wrist.

He just gave me a hard look for a long moment, then looked down at his quilt and said, in a low voice, “You two really make me hate myself sometimes.” And he sighed and got up and smelled my fingers.

I am a god among men!