Look, it's drabble-sized! Only 200 words, exactly on this one.

James Potter drabble
By Smitty

James Potter was bloody good at Quidditch.

And he knew it.

He didn't really need to practice, of course, but he did it because it was fun. He did it because he looked good, swooping and diving and rocketing around on his broom, and because he enjoyed the wind on his face, in his hair, and he loved the way his heart felt like it would beat right out of his body in the seconds when he changed position or stopped and started.

Quidditch was his. He loved hanging out with his mates. He loved changing to keep Remus company on the nights of the full moon and having a secret animagus form. He loved plotting pranks with Sirius and disrupting the boring daily routine of the entire school. He loved helping Peter with his homework and having the other boy beam at him in admiration. But playing Quidditch made him feel like a champion...a hero.

There was only one other thing in the world that made him feel that way.

"All right, Potter?" Lily Evans asked from the otherwise abandoned bleachers as he spun into a perfect turn and caught the errant Snitch.

James Potter fell off his broom.

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