Summary:
Ceridwen Smith has gone loony. This is because she:
a) Has fled the country in hopes of escaping her ex-boyfriend
b) Is hopelessly in lust with Ray Patil
c) Somehow gets entangled with not-to-be-trusted Detective Potter and his schemes
d) All of the above
Well I woke up tonight and said
I'm gonna make somebody love me
And now I know,
Now I know that it's you
Do You Want To: Prologue
"Do you want to make him jealous?"
Both irritation and confusion swept over Ceridwen Smith as she forced her gaze from the back of Ray Patil's head into the eyes of James Potter. Irritation, simply because he had distracted her. Confusion, for if Ceridwen's memory served (which it did – she was a healer, after all) James Potter had only uttered one word to her and that was a very simple "Welcome," back when she first transferred to the British Ministry. Not to mention the fact that his question was absolutely barmy.
"Pardon?" Ceridwen phrased, wanting to be the embodiment of a polite Hufflepuff.
"No, pardon me. I'm not one for asking irrelevant questions. You want to make him jealous."
Ceridwen fixed her glasses and stared at James, crossing her arms together. "How do you gather that?"
James smirked.
"Because that's just rubbish," she told him, adamantly shaking her head.
"Is it?" He stepped closer to her.
She took one backwards and put her feet together. "No, Potter, I do not want to make Ray jealous."
His voice was dry as he queried, "Really?"
Her hands folded themselves together. "Yes."
He ignored her and took another step. "Because from what I've seen, you really fancy the pants off the bloke."
Ceridwen stared at him.
"You refer to him as Ray and not Patil. You keep tabs by glancing at him from the corner of your eye. You laugh more loudly when he's around. You keep fidgeting with your hair. Tucking and untucking, over and over. I would've guessed that your fingers have gotten cramped if not for the fact that I just saw you twirling your hair not a moment ago.
"Not to mention," he added, "the fact that you were much too defensive when I asked you about him."
"Was I, now?" Her voice was mocking, her eyes determined not to be made a fool of.
"Fixing your glasses, shaking your head, crossing your arms, holding your hands together, shrinking away from me," he spoke softly but quickly, "putting as much distance between us as if anticipating an attack. If that's not defensive, Ceridwen Smith, I'm not quite sure what is."
For lack of better response, Ceridwen questioned, "Why are you even speaking to me, Potter?"
"I want to make an investment."
She wrinkled her eyebrows. "Do I look like a goblin?"
Frowning, he said, "Ask me what sort of investment."
"Fine. I'll play along," Ceridwen huffed. "What sort of investment, Potter?"
"The sort where we make Patil jealous."
"What?" Ceridwen wondered if the only sentences James knew how to create were ones filled with blasphemy.
"The sort," he continued, "where I would advise you to pucker up."
But before Ceridwen could cinch her eyes together and apparate or even snatch the wand out of her pocket and recite a simple freezing charm, James had already leaned in, grabbed her by the waist, and kissed her.
hello: um, so not my first time writing, but my first time writing in this fandom. reviews are like hugs. you should give one.
(oh, and disclaimed.)
