Unless you've read Complicated, this piece will make zero sense. It's a "missing moment" spanning chapters 38 to 40, told from James' perspective as he attempts to come to terms with whatever-the-heck-he's-feeling.

Shit.

Who the hell responds to 'I love you' with 'shit'?

I mean, seriously James, you're better than this.

Granted, Abby had caught me totally off guard, but there are a million better ways I could've responded to that sentence.

Although, to be fair, she also could've at least given me time to think about a real response, instead of just running off and making me feel like a right prick.

I hear the compartment door slide open, and I snap my head towards it in response. It makes me realise that I've been staring out the window for a weirdly long amount of time, especially given the fact that the Hogwarts Express hasn't even started moving yet and there's absolutely nothing for me to be staring at.

Caroline and Dom both enter the compartment; and predictably, they both immediately move to sit with Freddy and Alec. I'm still not sure how I feel about Dom and Alec being back together again, especially given how casually they both seem to treat the fact that they're going to break up after graduation. But that's an issue for another time – when I'm not going through a personal crisis.

Because their arrival means one other thing: Abby isn't sitting with us. Otherwise, she would've walked in with them too.

If I had to guess, she's probably dragged Amelie with her and they're sitting with Rose. And she's probably with my little brother too, and witnessing his perfectly functional and normal relationship and realising what a fuck-up I am in comparison.

I'd be much happier if she was in this compartment. With me.

Although that would require me actually knowing what the hell to say in response to her declaration from last night, and I just… fuck, I don't know.

I fancy her. I know that much. I've spent most of this term in denial of that fact. Literally the only part of my life that I had planned out up to this point was that I wasn't going to seriously date anyone until I graduated Hogwarts.

Now, I don't even know if I've got that.

The physical attraction started in September. Even if she was a massive bitch back then, it's completely undeniable that she was – and still is – incredibly fucking hot. And that night at the start-of-term party, I was annoyed about a letter from Dad that, perhaps unintentionally, pointed out all of my shortcomings in comparison to my little brother, and then Freddy had made a shit comment about how long it'd been since I'd gotten laid, so I got drunker than I should've, and suddenly I was dragging Abby to the Shrieking Shack.

Then her life went to shit because of that drunken escapade, and it somehow made her… so much better. She stopped acting so damn pretentious and condescending all the time, and I found out that she actually had a personality and a sense of humour under all that queen bee shit. Suddenly, she was the type of person I genuinely liked spending time with.

And those two things ended up being a dangerous combination that resulted in me nearly kissing her on New Year's, and again on the Hogwarts Express, and again on the Quidditch Pitch. But each time, Abby pulled away.

The, she kissed me. And immediately proceeded to run away (which seems to be a common thing with her, now that I think about it).

And then we were casually snogging, and things were great. No, better than great – they were fucking amazing. Admittedly, I may have complicated things a bit when I brought her home with me when Dad got hurt. But I really don't know if I could've done it without her.

There's also the fact that when I'm with her, there's just part of me that practically aches to be in contact with her – holding her hand, kissing her cheek, all that cheesy shit that I'd sworn up and down I'd never be into. I keep finding myself doing it without really thinking about it.

Yeah, okay, so I complicated things a lot. Although Abby was overreacting a bit, she did have a point when she yelled at me for that last night.

"Can you please stop staring out the window like that?" Fred's voice snaps me out of my thoughts. "I get that you're getting nostalgic about Hogwarts and graduating and all that good shit, but seriously, you look like somebody has your family at wandpoint."

"Do not," I answer, somewhat stubbornly. But Freddy's probably not entirely wrong.

My new attention on the group instead of the greenery means I notice that Dom's looking at me curiously – and come to think of it, Caroline kind of is too, although she's much more subtle about it than my cousin. Fuck, I wonder what Abby told them. From the state that she left me in last night – that sudden icy calmness – I'd wager she was either hysterical or fantastically pissed off by the time she got back to her own dormitory.

Fuck, I'm not going to be able to get through any of this train ride without thinking about her, am I?

"Alright, get your lazy arse up, we're going clubbing!"

I blink a few times, trying to figure out what the hell's going on. First off, I don't even remember choosing to take a nap, yet here I am, waking up with no idea what time it is – or even what day, really.

Louis and Fred are standing in the doorway to my bedroom, both dressed in much nicer attire than my current ratty pyjama bottoms.

"What?" I ask, still waking up.

"You heard me the first time," Louis says. "Get up, we're going out tonight. Aunt Ginny said you've been a miserable sod all week, so we're here to fix that."

"And given that Lou and I here are both in very committed relationships, we're dedicating our full energy to remedying your mysterious bad mood by being the best wingmen that there ever were."

Um, shit. In literally any other situation, a good shag would probably be exactly what I need to snap out of this. But given that my current issue is that there's a very specific person I would liketo be shagging but also can't properly sort out a plan of action to deal with, this seems like a terrible plan.

"I'm not really up for that, honestly," I tell them.

"Don't care," Louis replies immediately. "Get up, we're going. You need to get out of this room – it looks like a fucking Muggle mad scientist went wild in here."

That's a bit of an overexaggeration. Although the fact that I have Quidditch strategies scrawled out on pieces of parchment that are scattered across my bedroom floor does kind of give off the obsessive vibe.

My personal life may be shit right now, but Gryffindor is not losing to Hufflepuff.

I'm suddenly hit in the face with clothes. "Go on, get dressed," Fred insists.

They're not going to leave, are they? I accept my fate and drag my arse out of bed.

I guess I'm in for an interesting night.

Maybe interesting wasn't the right word.

Try 'bloody depressing.'

I wake up the next morning with a pounding headache and absolutely nothing to show for it.

And not for Freddy and Louis' lack of wingman skills. Truly, the two of them must've introduced me to at least five girls, but I just… couldn't.

None of them were Abby. None of them had her body, or her witty comebacks, or her uncanny ability to know just how to make me fall apart.

So when faced with a number of girls I could've potentially charmed and hooked up with, I chose none of them. I chose her.

But fucking hell, I still don't know what to do with that information. And the hangover certainly isn't helping.

I've got this much: I fancy the pants off of her and it seems that she's ruined all other women for me. All the signs are pointing to the fact that we should probably be together – like, in the real sense instead of the casual sense.

But I don't want to commit to that unless I know it's serious – although I guess I'm more concerned for myself in that regard. She's made her position incredibly clear. I just… don't want to deal with the inevitable shitshow that is the Daily Prophet gossip column if it's not a real, long-term thing. I'm only putting up with all the articles about how I'm a relationship-wrecker and she's some sort of slag if I'm sure it's really worth it for both of us.

So all that leads to the big question: do I love her?

I mean, I'm 18 – how the hell am I supposed to know what love is? Or if I'm in it? Let's be real, I barely know what I'm going to have for dinner tonight.

Love seems like one of those complicated 'forever' things – the type of thing you only say when you can picture spending the rest of your life with that person, and I really don't know if I feel responsible enough to make that kind of life decision just yet.

Although yeah, I really kind of like the idea of waking up next to Abby every morning, with her wearing those scandalous silky things she apparently likes to sleep in, all highbrow comments and testaments of wit and that mysterious ability to say all the things that I need to hear.

And when I try to picture my future – something I'm total shit at doing – I can't help but see her there. It's hard to imagine a future that doesn't have her in it, if I'm being honest with myself.

I'm just really fucking lost on this one.

I eventually go downstairs in search of food, but I stop halfway down the stairs. Dad is standing in front of the mantle, looking at the collection of photographs there. It reminds me of when I caught Abby doing the same thing a few weeks ago.

And it's probably that connection that makes me say what comes out of my mouth.

"Dad? I need your advice on something."

Dad's head snaps over to me, and he looks a bit surprised by my question. Probably because he's never really been the person I go to when I need advice. Mum's usually the one for that.

"Sure, James," he finally answers. "What can I help you with?"

I walk down the last few steps and sit on the couch.

"How do you – how did you know you were in love with Mum?"

If I'm getting love advice from my parents, I'm keeping it as far away from my actual love life as possible. They're both embarrassing as hell when they want to be, and I know there's a chance this will come back to haunt me. So I ask about Mum instead, because, if we're being entirely honest, my parent's marriage is perhaps the most functional relationship I've ever seen.

Dad sits next to me, and pauses to think about it for a little bit.

"Well, as you know," he begins, "your mum and I started dating in the middle of the war. And we broke up because of it too – Voldemort would've targeted her if he knew… if he knew how I felt about her."

Sometimes, I forget about the shit my parents went through when they were my age. I hate being known as the 'son of the Chosen One,' but I'll take that any day over being caught in the middle of the war and having to regularly watch the people I know get killed. To this day, I still see how much my Uncle Fred's absence affects everyone.

"But the entire time that we were gone – that we were hunting Horcruxes – I kept thinking of all the things I wanted to tell her. When something good happened, she was the first person I thought of. When something bad happened, she was who I wanted to comfort me. And it was a hard year, because she was the first person I wanted to tell about everything, but I couldn't."

I just nod in response. While my life is nowhere near that intense, I can't help but draw parallels.

When I finally managed a damn corporeal Patronus, I ran to Abby. And when I found out about Dad getting injured, she's the one I dragged home with me, regardless of the fact that I knew there was a chance it'd make our snogging situation messy and I had to deal with letters from Mum afterwards asking me if Abby was my girlfriend yet.

Abby, my girlfriend. I guess it does have a nice ring to it.

Dad's talking again, so my train of thoughts comes to a halt. "And your mum, she makes me a better person. She's good at putting me in my place when I need it, and I like the person that I am when I'm with her."

It's funny that I can think of a girl who was basically Hogwarts' resident mean girl for six years as someone who 'makes me a better person,' but I think I do. I mean, I've spent more time in the library this year than I probably did in all previous six years combined, and she's just… good at making me see sense.

She's not perfect by any means, but… I don't think I'd want her to be. I mean, yeah, she runs away from her problems and can be stuck-up about things she doesn't like and cares just a little too much about her appearance, but she wouldn't be Abby without those things.

And I think I'm in love with her anyways?

It's still a weird concept to wrap my brain around.

"I – thanks, Dad," I finally reply. "That's… insightful."

Dad looks at me, mildly amused. "Tell me, James, can you envision spending your life with her?"

Fuck. Now we are actually getting into my love life. I should've known Dad would be perceptive enough to figure out that there was a hidden motive behind my question.

"Yes," I answer, almost too quickly. I've been spending the last couple of hours envisioning that, actually. I'm nowhere near ready to commit to marriage or anything like that, but I just – at this point in my life I can't really see a version of my future that I want that doesn't involve her.

Dad chuckles. "Then I think you have your answer."

I drop my head into my hands. This is all too much of a revelation to be having while slightly hungover at 3 p.m. on a Sunday in my pyjamas.

Dad places a hand on my shoulder, and it's oddly comforting.

"James?"

I lift my head up to look at him.

"If this is about Abby – and I'm assuming it is – I could've given you your answer based on just watching the way you act with her."

The only time Dad saw Abby was when we were all at St. Mungo's, and that was… over two weeks ago. Has some part of me been in love with her since then even if I didn't realise it? Can love really be just that - as simple as just the way she makes me feel?

Fuck. Maybe Dom and Abby were right about me being thick when it comes to romantic relationships.

Oh Merlin. I have to make this up to her somehow, don't I? And come up with some grand dramatic gesture to tell her how I feel – I mean, it's only fair given how horribly I reacted the first time.

I jump off the couch, an idea suddenly popping into my head. I picture the invitation sitting in the depths of my trunk, containing the venue location and specific directions to dress in Muggle formal attire.

"Dad? Where can I get a suit?"

Dad gives me a raised eyebrow in response to that, no doubt wondering where the hell that train of thought came from.

"Well, I'd offer you one of mine," he begins, "but your shoulders are a bit broader than mine. So, Malkin's, maybe? I'm not sure if she's got any Muggle suits at the moment though, or if it's all dress robes. If all else fails, try a Muggle department store."

Well, looks like I'm heading to London soon.

"Oh, and next time you see Abby," my dad adds before I can leave the room, "tell her congrats on the job offer."

That gets my attention. She got the investigative department job? I quickly realize that means my dad and my hopefully-girlfriend could possibly be working in the same office in a couple of months.

But that's a thought for another time. For now, I've got a wedding to prepare for and a girl to confess my love to.