KNOWING ME KNOWING YOU ⇒ jegulus one shots

HOGWARTS' PARENT TEACHER MEETINGS

"Hello, class. I'm James Potter, I'm going to be your new flying coach for the foreseeable future," James introduces himself casually.

He isn't quite sure just how Remus had managed to convince him to take on the job as Hogwarts' flying instructor, but with Remus as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor; James is sure he's going to enjoy this experience, especially while poor Sirius sits at home; knitting his way to a baby blanket while worrying tirelessly about his pregnant boyfriend, whom of which had promised to write everyday and to not share any of their prank ideas with his students.

James and Remus had also sworn to bug Snape as much as they possibly could with Remus' five month bump in the way.

James' mixed class of third year Gryffindors and Slytherins reminds him of his former hatred for the green and silver clad students; however, a rather fulfilling, although short lived, experience with a certain Slytherin had somehow changed his tune.

James' doting reminiscing is put to a stop when an impossibly blond boy begins chattering away to a tall, dark haired boy next to him; his tone haughty and drawling. Upon hearing the word 'mudblood' James clears his throat.

"I'm going to be your new flying coach and I won't be tolerating any unkindness here, just to make that absolutely, abundantly clear right here and now," James announces firmly. "Now, let's get to work, shall we? Come on, up on your brooms,"

The blond, Malfoy -James had learned was his name- was miles ahead of his peers. However, a scrawny, glasses wearing boy with wild dark hair seems to be somehow out doing the frowning blond. Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, the son of Sirius' dearest cousin; Narcissa. A brat, a spoilt little brat; or so James has observed.

The scrawny boy who seems to tag along with the whistling red head and the cheering brunette, dismounts from his broom with a wide, toothy smile; greyish blue eyes shining with passion. James smiles at him as his students retreat into the changing rooms.

"Hey, kiddo, hang back a moment, will you?" James calls softly. "The rest of you can go get changed, if you'd like. Good job today, everyone. Let's see if the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws are as promising as you lot are, eh? I've got them first thing tomorrow morning," James bids his students goodbye before turning to face the petite boy.

"What's your name, kid?" James questions, intrigued.

"Me?" The boy asks with a surprised raise of his eyebrows.

"You're the only other one here, pal," James laughs gently, amused at the child's slight insecurity; the dark haired boy is by far the youngest talent James has ever seen. Of course he would be asking for his name. "You've got real skill, kid, I'd like to grab your name before I grab your autograph, mmh?"

The boy chuckles with a slight smile as he readjusts his glasses. "M'Harry," He says shyly. He can't be more than thirteen but his timidness towards James makes him seem younger.

"Well, Harry, you were really brilliant out there today. Have you got yourself a position on the school team?"

Harry nods, rather proudly. "Yup, I'm the Gryffindor seeker,"

"Fantastic. I'm really looking forward to seeing you play, y'know," James grins. "It'll be wicked. Got any quidditch players in the family? There's no way you adopted all this from nowhere, lad," 

"My mum used to play seeker for Slytherin," Harry tells James with a beaming smile, even more prouder than he had been when announcing his position.

James smiles at Harry. "That's brilliant. Was she any good?"

Harry blinks for a moment. "Oh." He trails. "My mum isn't a girl,"