Akikko: Hey! This is a short, one-chapter story about James Potter II, who is canon, and my OC, Spica Lupin-Black, who is definitely not canon (but should be. Yay, wolfstar!).

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters... but I do own this story (or its words, in this particular order) as well as Spica Lupin-Black, so please dun' take them!

Story Title: Push Me

Chapter: And She Pushed.

"Push me!"

The surprisingly small voice of the confident young James Sirius Frederick Potter got Spica's attention quickly. She looked up from the book she was reading to see him sitting on the best rope swing on the playground, which was tied to a large tree, now leafless due to it being Christmas break with vines curling around it like a large snake. From where she was sitting, Spica could only see the back of his red shirt with black long sleeves, but he leaned backwards to see her, his head upside down and his long pitch-black hair hanging down into the air. His glasses were daringly close to slipping off his nose completely, but from the smile that caused his cheeks to rise were keeping them up. It seemed that not even the force of gravity could stop that grin.

Spica tilted her head. "Huh?" asked the even younger girl, giving James a quizzical look. James sighed as if the answer was completely obvious.

"Put your book down," he began, still hanging his head upside down to stare at her, "And come push me so I can swing higher." He kicked his jean-clad legs back and forth, the laces from his tennis shoes trailing after his feet. James had been rambling on earlier about how he wanted to soon be the kid who could swing higher than anyone else. Well, really, James just wanted to be better at everything than everybody, so it seemed to Spica... if there was anything left for him to beat others in.

Spica Ceridwen Lupin-Black huffed and crossed her arms. "What if I dun' want to? This book is really interestin', you know." She gently hit the book's cover with the back of her hand, letting the title come to attention.

James shook his head. "You can read that later. I need to practice swinging so I can beat Freddy." Spica raised an eyebrow, trying to stay annoyed at James, and then thought that James could easily beat Freddy. After all, Frederick Weasley Junior was known to be nervous, stuttering, and not too confident in anything. She highly doubted that he would pose a challenge for James, so she pursued her lips together and turned her head to the side with an 'hmph!'

"C'mon, Spicaaaa!" he whined, giving her an endearing look. His head was progressively reddening from blood rushing to it. Spica glanced over at him, and then sighed. "Alright, fine, I s'pose."

She put a dark blue ribbon in between two pages as her bookmark, closed it, and sat it down next to her white cat plushie before using her hands to help herself get up. She stood and quickly wiped the dirt from her palms on her old worn blue jeans. She straightened her patched gray jacket and ran a hand through her very short light black hair.

"C'mon, Spica," James said once more with a grin. "Push me."

Spica rolled her eyes, a grin of her own sneaking onto her face before she walked over to him. He immediately sat up straight again, bringing his head upright once more. "Ready?" asked Spica, putting her small hands to his back.

"Ready as I'll ever be," he replied, that confident smile never leaving his face.

James braced himself and Spica pushed him forward, giving him a large start to his attempt. She quickly stepped backwards to ready herself for him to come back towards her so she could push him once more. James was laughing, enjoying himself immensely.

"Push me!" he repeated. "Push me again!"

She took a deep breath, putting more energy into the next push. She was enjoying herself as well. Spica rarely didn't enjoy herself, really-- but something was different with this. With each time her hands connected with James's back, she felt this warm sensation inside that made her feel happy and bubbly and confused and a bit scared all at the same time. It was thrilling.

James held onto the ropes of the swing, sitting securely on the wooden seat. However, each time he reached the peak of the journey's height, he'd be bumped up slightly and he would be disconnected with the seat for a few fleeting yet strangely exhilarating moments. At this time he'd call out, "Push me!"

Spica pushed, her eight-year-old self trying to decipher the odd thoughts flying through her mind.

"Push me!" shouted eleven-year-old James, a laugh interrupting his words. He closed his eyes and let the wind blow through his hair, his glasses being pushed against his face by an every-so-often gust of air.

James would call out "Push me!" and Spica would push.

Spica's cheeks were starting to flush, and she wasn't quite sure if it was because of the work making her warmer in the cold winter air, or the thoughts that were pulsing through her with every beat of her heart, almost as if words were going through her veins instead of blood. 'Why was it so upsetting when James left for Hogwarts?'

Push. Her hands connected to his back, and a shiver was sent through her.

'Why do I get so happy when he writes me letters, even if they're just a line?'

"Push me!" called James.

And so, she pushed.

'Why do I smile when I just think about him?'

"Push me!" She pushed.

Frustration was building up in Spica now. She was frustrated that she had no answer for those questions that didn't seem difficult at all. She was frustrated that she had too many questions. She was frustrated at herself. She was frustrated at James. She was frustrated at pushing.

"Push me!" called James, but Spica forgot to push.

James swung into Spica, shoving her backwards onto the ground. He was jerked forward and jumped out of the swing as it flew forward again, landing deftly in dead grass. He scrambled to his feet and hurried over to her. "Hey, you alright, Spica? Are you hurt?" he asked, looking down at her with concern.

"... I'm alright," she muttered, feeling a bit dazed. James grinned lopsidedly after sighing in relief.

"That's good. I wouldn't want my best mate's little sister to get hurt."

A pang of what Spica recognized as loneliness hit her. Now she was hurt. She mumbled something incoherent, moving her head to the side.

James looked at her curiously. "Hm? What was that?"

Spica paused, and looked up at James, staring into his face for a few moments. "...It was nothing," she replied, and then nodded. She propped herself up with her elbows, and then James took her hands and pulled her to her feet.

Spica grabbed the ropes of the swing loosely, twiddling with the frayed ends of one side for a while as James looked on with a bit of confusion. "James..." she started, looking back at him shyly.

"Yeah?" he replied, flashing a quick and reassuring grin at her.

The eight-year-old werewolf took a deep breath. "James, I--" but she never got to finish.

"Oi, James!" called out Teddy, Spica's older step-brother, waving his hand to get his attention from a good twenty feet away. His hair was turquoise today, which meant he was in a good mood, and it showed by the large grin on his face. He seemed to be a bit amused as he asked, "Is Spica alright?"

James immediately lit up when he caught sight of Teddy, and then turned his head to look at Spica quickly. "You're alright, right?

Spica looked down at her feet, and then back up at the source for the odd and painful loneliness that she suddenly began to feel. "Yeah, I'm good," she replied, grinning half-heartedly. James was satisfied with that answer and turned back to Teddy.

"She's fine!" he called out as Spica jumped up to sit down in the swing, kicking her feet back and forth. She couldn't kick herself off the ground to start swinging, because her legs weren't long enough to reach the dirt.

"Push me."

"What?" asked the boy, adjusting his glasses as he stared at the younger girl.

"Push me," Spica repeated, gesturing to her seat with one hand as the other clung to the rope.

Teddy called out again. "Come on, James! We don't have much time until we have to head back home."

James looked to Teddy, and then back to Spica, nearly feeling torn over the decision. His strong feelings for Teddy, which he didn't quite understand yet, overpowered his friendship with Spica.

He grinned at her. "Sorry, love. I want to go play with your older brother. Y'understand, right?"

Spica looked down at the dirt, which seemed so far away from her place in the air. She was sitting in the sky, it seemed, and she couldn't even imagine her feet touching the ground one day. She felt small, young, insignificant, unimportant-- the list went on. The feelings were confusing, and hurt her far more than any time she fell and scraped her knee.

"...Yeah. Go play with Teddy, then," she replied, not bothering to look up.

"Thanks, mate," answered James quickly, his excitement evident.

"If you don't hurry up, I'm going to think you fancy my sister, James," teased Theodore Remus Lupin from afar. James turned and started running towards him, replying, "Oh, come off it, Teddy."

And so, Spica was there alone on the swing, with only her book and her cat plushie to keep her company. She sighed, staring down at her feet as she tried to kick off the ground.

----

"Push me!" he had called out, and she pushed.

When he caused her to fall over, she muttered as she was on the ground, "When will it be my turn?" with a tint of bitterness.

----

Spica thought of what had happened. "'Push me!' he called, and I pushed," she muttered under her breath, jumping off the motionless swing that only moved after the force from her jump pushed it backwards. "But he didn't push me. He just left, for Teddy. After all, I'm only his best mate's little sister..." She picked up her cat plushie and book, heading back for the house.

Little did James know that, in a few years… he'd want to push back.