The Changing Tides
Author's Note:
Hello Potter fiends! This is my first Harry Potter fanfiction and it very much focuses on an alternate universe dedicated to some good old fashion gender bending. The story follows the original in terms of cannons, but I loved exploring the idea of some female marauders and male Lily Evans.
I hope they don't seem too out of character, but I tried to take into account the gender switch and the bias of a character's point of view.
If gender bending isn't your thing, I'd give this story a wide berth. If you'd like to give it a try however, I hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own these fabulous characters.
At the young age of eleven, Liam Evans had two certainties in his life. He was a wizard and that his sister despised him for it. When he'd received his Hogwarts acceptance letter his parents had practically glowed with pride, Petunia however, had wallowed in the shadows scowling. Petunia frowning at him like he was a creature that had crawled from a lake, covered in slime and ooze, had become a regular occurrence in the last few years; her scowl had only become more vexing when he had received his letter.
He now found it hard to believe that they had ever been close, but his older sister had once doted on him. She used to buy him sweets with her pocket money, she would take him down to the park to throw stones into the river, she'd loved him fiercely. Thinking of those times now just made him sad.
It had all changed when he was nine, before he even had an inkling that he was magical, when he'd first met Sevrine.
Liam had always believed he was special; not in a boastful, big headed sort of way, but there had always been a quiet, sure feeling in his gut that told him there was a reason he couldn't relate to the other children in his class or on his road. While he certainly wasn't unpopular, he seemed to be the only one who felt tingles going up his spine when he watched a flower bloom or tickles in his belly when the first rain drops fell.
Petunia called him sensitive. She had once liked that about him, that he wasn't a typical, gross little boy. She detested those things about him now; now she knew that he was a wizard and that she was a normal muggle, she could hardly stand to look at him. She called him a freak. He avoided her when he could.
Instead, he'd found solace in his new friend, Sevrine. He remembered the first time he'd seen her; she was pale, unkempt and her front teeth were missing. He remembered how serious her eyes were, how harshly she frowned at his sister but then how much her face would soften when she looked at him.
Sevrine showed him wonderful things, explained why he was so different from the other children. She looked at him like he'd hung the stars and told him he was special, just like she was.
That was how he found himself here, on a magical train taking him to a castle, clad in robes and holding a wand. He felt like a character in a fairy tale. All around him were other special children, holding chocolate frogs that jumped and picture cards that walked around. Some, like him, were gazing on with wide, unbelieving eyes while children from magical homes went about their exciting first train ride as though nothing were out of place.
Liam couldn't rid the smile from his face. Sev's scowl couldn't get any deeper. He was so excited to meet other witches and wizards his age, that he could almost ignore the fact that Sev couldn't want anything less. He knew she was content with his friendship, reveled in it, and she had been the first true friend he'd ever had, but he'd spent his childhood feeling like he couldn't relate to those around him; he was ready to take this opportunity with both hands and hold on. If his sister couldn't accept him, maybe he could find people at Hogwarts who did.
Sev nudged his arm, distracting him from his thoughts, she smirked at him.
"You'd better be in Slytherin." She said playfully. Liam could see the under currant of seriousness in her eyes though.
"Slytherin?" a bubbly voice chirped from the other side of the compartment.
Liam turned to face the new voice and saw two dark haired girls, about his age, sat opposite each other looking at them. One girl was slouched low on the plush seat, tie hanging loose around her neck, her eyes were dark and intense. The other, the owner of the piping voice, looked to be much more animated than her companion, uniform pristine and dark hair wild and wavy around her pretty, bespectacled face.
"Who would want to be in Slytherin? I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?" She asked her lounging friend. Liam's back straightened at the dismissive tone and he felt annoyance stirring in his gut. Beside him, Sev's face darkened.
The slouching girl shifted uncomfortably, "My whole family have been in Slytherin," the confession sounded like it pained her.
The bespectacled girl's eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"Blimey," exclaimed the girl, "and I thought you seemed all right!"
Her friend grinned; to Liam, it looked to be a sharp, daring sort of grin. He found it unpleasant to look at.
"Maybe I'll break the tradition. Where are you heading if you've got a choice?"
Liam's interest was piqued; he knew, in theory, the desired attributes of each house and, despite Sev's insistences, was curious to see where other children wanted to go and why. He himself was undecided; he rather liked the idea of being in Ravenclaw, where intelligence and forward thinking were most valued. He even believed he'd be well suited to Hufflepuff. He wasn't sure if he was brave or noble enough for Gryffindor and even though he wouldn't admit it to Sev, he was certain he wasn't cunning or ambitious enough for Slytherin.
The girl raised an imaginary sword, eyes bright and certain.
"'Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart!' Like my dad." She said proudly.
Liam, charmed a little by her confidence, was startled by a derisive snort by his side. The girl whirled to face them again.
"Got a problem with that?"
"No," said Sev. But Liam could hear the sneer in her voice like nails on a chalkboard. "If you'd rather be brawny than brainy-"
"Where're you hoping to go? Seeing as you're neither?" The sullen girl interjected, looking triumphant.
Both girls burst into laughter and Liam was left with his mouth hanging open, shocked at such a blatant show of unkindness. He clicked his jaw shut and stood, beckoning Sev to follow him. He glared at the cackling pair of girls, vowing to avoid them whenever he could.
"Come on, Sev, let's find another compartment."
If anything, this made the pair erupt into fresh giggles, mimicking his tone and sticking a leg out to trip Sev as they passed.
"See ya, Snivellus!" was shouted out behind them. He couldn't place whose voice it had been, fury stirring in his chest like an angry cat. Sev was muttering curses beside him, her face red.
Underneath the anger and irritation, surprise shook his young, idealistic self. He thought of the boastful, spectacle clad girl in particular and realised that up till then, he'd had no idea that someone so pretty could be so spectacularly nasty.
Liam, to his relief, was sorted into Gryffindor. He sent Sev an apologetic smile and tried to ignore how betrayed she looked. Her eyes burned into the back of his skull when he sat down; even the sounds of his house mates cheering for him couldn't drown out the feeling.
One of the girls from the train was sitting across from him, tie still loose around her neck. Her piercing eyes were watching him closely until they swung around to catch Sev staring at his back. The girl chuckled and stuck out her hand,
"I'm Sirius Black."
Suddenly actively disliking the manners his parents had drummed into him as a child, he reluctantly took her hand, displeasure clear on his face.
"Liam. Isn't Sirius a boy's name?"
She raised a brow, the smug smile never fading.
"That a problem?"
Before he could reply, a smaller body shoved next to him on the bench, he almost groaned aloud when he realised it was mean girl number two.
"Hello again folks! Lovely to see you again at the best table in the room."
Liam didn't dignify that with a response and tried to turn his body away from them.
"Liam here has already become a dear friend of mine."
He barked out a loud laugh, hoping it sounded as disgusted as he felt. Both girls shared an amused glance.
"Looks like he's too good to hang out with the likes of us Siri."
"Such a shame Jamie; looks like we'll have to stick together instead."
He tried his best to tune the rest of their idle chatter out as they seemed to focus on another girl with mouse brown hair. Poor thing looked like she didn't know what on earth was going on when the two started prattling at her.
He looked up just in time to spot Sev's black hair emerge from underneath the sorting hat. The Slytherins were cheering wildly. Sev met his eyes for a fraction of a second before she dragged her gaze back to her new house mates.
Liam sighed; it looked like they'd both gotten their wishes.
At twelve years old, Liam was living life as a second year Hogwarts student with gusto. He had some great friends within his house, he was excelling in his classes and he still had Sev as a friend. Undoubtably, they had to put some work in, especially considering the vicious rivalry between their two houses, but they'd spent time together over the summer, which had helped.
Petunia seemed to forget she had a brother; she'd apparently even gone so far as to tell his old friends that he'd been committed to a mental hospital.
Liam chewed his pancakes, wondering what his reaction would have been if it had been Petunia that had been born with magic. He liked to think he wouldn't have spread nasty rumors about her at least.
He was pulled from his thoughts, by the thump of a body plopping themselves down at the table opposite him.
"Liam dear, good morning."
He didn't bother being subtle about rolling his eyes. Jamie Potter seemed to take great delight in winding him up and while he normally prided himself on his calm, laid back nature, she seemed to rile him up with very little effort on her part. This morning she was sporting her usual Cheshire grin, dark locks pulled back into a tangled pony tail.
"Potter." He droned by way of a greeting.
"Honestly Evans, a little emotion wouldn't go amiss."
"I feel lots of emotions for you Potter, none of which I think you'll like."
Jamie clutched her hand to her chest, a mock gasp in accompaniment.
"You wound me sir."
"And you're boring me. What do you want?" His mother would be horrified by his show of rudeness, but Potter made his skin crawl with irritation.
He was surprised when Jamie's smile faltered slightly, ducking her chin down for a second before taking a bite of her apple.
"I'm looking for Siri, have you seen her?" she said, around a mouthful of apple.
"Last I saw she was heading to the Quidditch pitch with Remi and Petra."
His brow raised when Jamie thumped her head onto the table with a loud groan.
"Of course. Of bloody course." She drawled, forehead still on the table top.
Despite actively doing his best to ignore the sometimes spiteful girl, his curiosity was piqued. This was the first time he'd seen her looking so flustered.
"Is that a problem?"
Jamie peeked up at him over the frame of her glasses, hazel eyes wary. He could understand that; he'd never actively encouraged a conversation between them before. She seemed to deem him worthy however and raised her head; he was further floored by the blush reddening her cheeks, he hadn't thought her capable of embarrassment.
"It's Quidditch try outs today."
"So?"
"So," she rolled her eyes "I'm trying out for chaser today and I told them I didn't want them to come and watch."
Liam would have thought the raven haired girl would have loved nothing more than to have an audience watching her swooping around the pitch.
He told her as much and wasn't surprised when she laughed.
"Actually, that does sound more like me! I'll remember that when I'm in the air. Thanks Evans, that actually cheered me up."
"What? Me pointing out your complete lack of humility cheered you up?"
She wrinkled her nose.
"I'm funny like that."
Funny, he thought with a put upon sigh; that was one way to describe her.
"Anyway, I've gotta go. Wish me luck Evans!" She plucked up her and bag and raced out of the hall, pony tail bouncing behind her.
As he watched her go, he mused that that had been the longest conversation he'd ever had with her and certainly the one he'd felt the most calm during.
He sensed someone's eyes on him to the left and saw Sev glaring at the empty doorway and back at him. He took a deep breath and moved to go and sit with her.
Unsurprisingly, Jamie got the chaser position. She was now the youngest member of the team and good god, didn't she make sure they all knew it.
During his third year, Liam grew around six inches in height. He was now taller than Sev by a head and towered over a good portion of their year. He'd never felt so awkward and gangly in his life as he walked into the Great Hall after a cheery Christmas at home (if he excluded all his Petunia related moments that is). Friends greeted him as he passed until someone bumped into his side.
"Oh damn, sorry I- uh Evans. Hi"
He looked to his left and adjusted his gaze to look down. Potter stared back at him with big, hazel eyes behind her black frames. Her long hair was tamed into a thick braid down her shoulder. He blinked at her; he could have sworn her forehead was about level with his nose before, but now he found it was closer to his collar bone.
He knew he'd grown, but he was sure she'd never been so tiny.
"J, where – woah! Someone's been eating their vegetables."
Siri came to stand beside Jamie, half a head taller than the smaller girl which only made Jamie look more petite than ever.
Liam shrugged, feeling unsightly and huge.
"Guess I should have stayed away from all those Sunday roasts."
"No!" Jamie exclaimed, cheeks growing red when Liam furrowed his brow at her.
"I mean, it's cool. I wish I was taller. I – Hey Siri, Petra's over there, let's go."
Jamie looked back at him awkwardly and he couldn't begin to fathom why she was acting so strangely.
"See ya Evans."
She grabbed a cackling Siri's arm and dragged the taller girl away.
Liam shook his head, feeling too drained from the train journey to look into that strange encounter too much. He sat down and grabbed a bread roll, joining a conversation about Charms class and trying to forget how uncomfortable he felt in his own skin.
Liam walked down the corridor, mentally preparing everything he needed ready to go home for the summer. He only had a week left to get everything packed and ready but already he was realizing he was beginning to dread going home. While he had largely come to terms with his sister's blatant dislike of him now, it didn't mean that he wasn't dreading the tension filled dinners around the table.
According to his mother's recent letter, Petunia now had a boyfriend. Vernon something. Though she was nothing but polite about him in the letter, Liam could read between the lines of his mother's wording and expected nothing but an unbearable knob sitting at their dinner table when he was back.
He started to wonder when going home felt like going to a stranger's house. He'd miss his school.
Liam stumbled when the floor suddenly became slick under his feet. Confused, he looked around for the source of the unexplained water and found Jamie Potter kneeling on the floor, gliding her fingers over the ground frantically.
A confusing enough sight in itself, but in addition, the girl was absolutely drenched, water soaking her uniform and dripping off the sodden lengths of her hair. She looked more furious than he'd ever seen her.
"Bloody, god damn arse holes. Can't bloody believe they-"
"Potter?" he said, tentatively.
She turned her scowling face toward him but didn't meet his eyes. It was only then he noticed she wasn't wearing her glasses, which was perhaps the only time he'd ever seen her without the frames perched on her nose.
"Wonderful. Evans. My dreams have come true." Her words practically dripped with distain.
"What the hell are you doing on the floor, soaking wet?"
"Oh, I don't know," she flipped her hair over her shoulder, flinging droplets onto his trousers, "why don't you go and ask your gal pal and her cronies."
Unsure of what a 'gal pal' was, but certain of who she was talking about, he pieced an idea of what had happened in his mind and suddenly felt a lot less inclined to be sympathetic. He rolled his eyes and folded his arms.
"And you were the innocent bystander right?"
"Well I sure as shuck wasn't in a group of five, going after a little first year." She spat back at him and proceeded to flit her fingers across the ground.
He felt his ears redden. While he knew Sev was capable of having a caring nature, he was under no illusion that she was also easily led. He didn't doubt the gist of Potter's story but he doubted Sev was the instigator. More than likely she had stood at the back, not joining in but not stopping it either.
"Then why are you wet?"
She continued to search along the ground.
"Believe it or not Evans, I'm not just going to stand by when a bunch of third years start hexing a first year until she cries."
He hesitated. He couldn't stand Jamie Potter, loathed her completely, but she was right. He would be shocked beyond measure if she had ignored it.
"Was it a Gryffindor?"
"Does it bloody matter? She was a Hufflepuff for god's sake."
"And you still helped her?"
He knew it was a poor choice of words the second they escaped his lips. Though it was hardly a secret that he didn't care for her aloof, at times mean spirited nature, he knew she wasn't awful enough to not help a young child unable to defend herself. Houses notwithstanding. Jamie froze, then slumped back to sit and lean against the wall, lips pursed.
"I know you don't think much of me, but wow."
"That's not, I, that didn't come out like I –"
He paused when he noticed her shiver violently; she looked drenched and cold and furious and he felt the stirrings of pity rise through the dislike.
"Why haven't you used a spell to dry yourself?"
Jamie wrapped her arms around her knees, hazel eyes glaring ahead.
"Because Slytherins fight dirty. They shot my wand out of my hand, accio'd my glasses and aguamenti'd the crap out of me. I can't see a damn thing."
Liam awkwardly dropped his bag to the ground.
"Did they take your glasses?"
Jamie sighed and tipped her head back against the wall.
"I don't think so, I think they threw them somewhere."
Liam looked around the hallway and spotted something glinting in a doorway. He walked over and picked up the glasses, wincing over the crack in the right lens. He held them out for her to take, but when she didn't he grabbed her hand and closed her fingers around them. Her fingers were freezing and trembling.
She blinked up at him, unseeing, looking surprised. It was perhaps the first time he'd seen that expression on her face, especially directed at him.
"Thank you." She said softly, tentatively placing the glasses over her nose. He flicked his wand out and waved it over her, muttering a drying spell under his breath; with a whoosh, she was as dry as a bone.
Jamie narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously.
"You're being nice to me."
He shouldered his bag and turned around, calling out over his shoulder nonchalantly, despite his ear tips burning.
"Not really. You can look for your wand by yourself."
If his lips curled in amusement when she barked out a laugh, he didn't acknowledge it. He had to go and talk to his best friend.
When the school year started again, Liam was officially a fourth year and he was noticing all sorts of things. Girl, mostly. According to his dad it was only natural that at some point he would start to notice girls, Liam just didn't think it would be this time consuming. He'd always considered himself to be very rational and straight forward, so when he couldn't focus in Charms because of the sweet smelling perfume distracting him to his left or the nice, bouncing blonde curls in front of him, he became concerned.
He awkwardly confided this to the boys in his dorm room and felt infinitely better when they seemed to be going through the same thing. Suddenly most of the boys his age were worried instead of irritated when a girl would look at them and giggle. He would straighten his tie more and comb his hair in the mornings. It annoyed him beyond measure that he cared.
But he did notice girls watching him now, admiring, judging and it made his skin prickle. While he knew he wasn't unattractive, he wondered what they saw.
He could feel eyes on him now; sitting in Potions he ground a mixture of herbs into a bowl and tried to ignore those familiar hazel eyes on him.
He'd spent years disliking Jamie Potter; she was too reckless, too spiteful and full of cockiness for his tastes and first impressions never truly left his mind. He still remembered being shocked at the venom that pretty little girl had spewed; he never forgot the unkindness she was capable of.
But he also recalled her last year, shivering in a corridor, blind and cold because she'd stood up for a first year student being bullied to the point of tears. The girl confused him to no end and it stirred in his gut toxically.
He shifted his shoulders clumsily and hoped his hair was tidy. He frowned to himself. Why should he care if his hair was neat when she looked at him? Her hair was always messy; a riot of tangles and curls that spiraled down her back.
He'd caught her more than once ruffling her hands through it to make it messier. It was unbelievably annoying.
He glanced to his left and spotted Sev staring at him to. He smiled at her thinly. Her eyes were curious, perhaps wondering at his fidgeting. Liam shrugged at her and hoped they could strengthen the bond that had suffered somewhat last year. He'd confronted her about the Hufflepuff girl and she hadn't liked it.
Liam knew he would never worry about his appearance around Sev the way he did with Potter and he didn't know whether to be comforted by that or not.
It was during the January of his fourth year that Liam realised Sophie Robins had a crush on him. It scared him to death. Sophie was perfectly lovely, but he didn't think about her like at all and it made him feel anxious when he thought about it. What was the protocol for this? Did he let her down gently, even though she hadn't technically confided her feelings? What if he was being big headed and she didn't like him at all?
She was staring at him now though, perched delicately on the bench over at the Hufflepuff table. He tentatively met her eyes and she waved her perfect, sparkly pink nails at him before turning and giggling with her friends. He huffed out an anxious breath and stared daggers into his book.
Liam barely noticed when someone sat in opposite him, effectively blocking Sophie's piercing gaze. He peeked up hesitantly and didn't know whether to sigh in relief or groan in irritation at the sight of Potter sitting opposite him. It was the first time he'd seen her since getting back from the Christmas break.
"Evans." She nodded at him smugly.
"Potter…" He replied, suspicious.
When she didn't respond and continued to look at him like she knew all his secrets he closed his book with a snap.
"What?"
"So," she drawled, "Sophie Robins huh?"
"Again, what?"
She inspected her fingernails, nail polish chipped and mismatched.
"Rumor has it Sophie Robins is going to the Valentine Ball with you."
He was certain his eyes were as wide as saucers, mouth agape, sputtering.
"What? I, no, I haven't, who-"
He clicked his teeth shut when she erupted into laughter, pitch black hair whipping over her shoulder.
"Oh, your face Evans. Priceless."
He scowled at her and shoved his book into his bag.
"Very funny Potter." She held both hands up in surrender.
"I'm not kidding. People are actually saying that."
"Well they're wrong," he snapped, "I haven't asked anyone."
Jamie leaned closer to him across the table, perching her chin atop her hands. He leaned back, wind taken from his sails. He tried not to notice how long her eyelashes were or the smudge of dirt from the Quidditch pitch across her right cheekbone. She twirled a raven curl around her finger coyly.
"You could always ask me, Liam dear."
He couldn't help the incredulous laugh that bubbled out of his mouth and didn't bother to quiet it when he realised her smile had widened.
"No – ha – no offence Potter, but that's a god awful idea."
She wrinkled her nose at him with a smile.
"Isn't it just? Anyway," she stood and hoisted her bag over her shoulder.
"I already have a date." She called over her shoulder.
His grin faded and his cheeks felt suddenly warm. He didn't know what the unpleasant feeling coiling in his stomach was but he knew it frustrated him to no end.
Sparkly pink nails waved at him again across the room and he resisted the urge to thump his head down on the table.
He did ask Sophie in the end and Sev gave him nothing but grief for going with a Hufflepuff. She needn't have bothered. Sophie spent most of the evening giggling with her cohorts, acting so coy around him that he didn't have a clue what she was talking about.
He'd sat moodily at his table, surrounded by other boys left at the wayside by their dates.
He'd spotted Potter across the hall, dancing with a Ravenclaw boy called Sam. She wore a dark red dress that glittered in the light and her hair fell in long, smooth ringlets down her spine. Her arms were around Sam's neck and his hands were on her waist.
He'd eventually stood to leave and was certain he'd imagined hazel eyes following him out the door.
It was months after the dance that he found himself cursing Jamie Potter. He had spent years disliking her, now he felt pure loathing when he pictured her face.
Mudblood.
The words that slipped from his humiliated best friend's mouth. Sevrine. Wounded, easily led, unpredictable. The poison had dripped from her words like a snake bite; freezing him from the inside.
Jamie was the cause; her nastiness had started this. She had dangled Sevrine in the air and humiliated her to breaking point.
He returned home that summer and for the first time, dreaded September coming.
When his fifth year rolled around, Liam had spent the summer coming to terms with the events of the previous months and had calmed considerably. He would not easily forgive Sev for the nasty words she'd slung at him, despite the near daily owls he received from her, nor would his distaste for Potter and her friends be alleviated.
The pin glinting at his chest caught his eye again. He swelled with pride. He'd quietly hoped to become a prefect this year and was glad to receive the responsibility and perks that came with it.
Having unpacked his things, he sauntered down the stair case, ready to head down to the Great Hall for the welcoming feast. Most of his house had already left, he'd assumed he was the only one left until he heard a stumbling from the girls staircase.
He shook his head, unbelieving that the only other person there was the one he wanted to see the least.
"Liam?" Jamie straightened her glasses, clearly surprised by his presence.
He pursed his lips and nodded.
"Potter."
Her shoulders slumped a little, which he thought he would find gratifying, but didn't. He watched her sigh heavily and reflexively run a hand through her wild hair.
"I might as well get this over with."
He folded his arms, confused and leaned against a table.
"What's that?"
Jamie looked at him from atop her spectacles. She looked more contrite than he ever would have guessed her capable of being.
"Siri thinks I shouldn't bother, Remi thinks I should. I wanted to apologise to you for what happened before the summer."
Though he was amazed, anger still burned in his chest at the memory. He couldn't stop his eyes from narrowing.
"Is it really me that you should be apologizing to?"
She waved an idle hand,
"Oh I've tried that one. Sni – Sevrine cut me off pretty quickly."
Liam let his arms drop to his sides, gob smacked. Jamie had actually tried to apologise to Sev? The very thought was unbelievable.
"You – are you serious? You apologized?"
Jamie held up a halting finger,
"Tried to. There's a difference. She copped me before I got to the last syllable"
Jamie pointed to a hastily wrapped bandage around her forearm and Liam felt his skin grow cold. Before he could register what he was doing, he'd propelled himself forward to gently grasp her wrist. He inspected the bandage, pink stained in the middle.
"Sev did this?"
Jamie shifted, looking uncomfortable.
"Yeah, I didn't catch the spell. I don't really want to know."
Neither did he. Liam had suspected for a while that Sev was dabbling in dark magic, but until now had never wanted to acknowledge it. Hitting someone with a jelly legs jinx down the hallway was one thing. Cutting someone was another.
He let go of her wrist and stepped back, looking at her incredulously.
"I can't believe you apologized."
"Well, believe it. But fair warning Mr Prefect," she tipped her chin to his badge with a dangerous smile, "I don't think I'll bother again. All bets are off after this."
She brushed past him; pink cheeked and ducked out of the portrait.
While this didn't absolve any of the wrong doings she'd caused with her callousness, she had certainly surprised him. He thought back to the little girl flinging insults on a train and compared her to the girl of today. Back then, an apology would sooner shrivel her tongue than pass those lips.
If Jamie had been a conundrum to him before, it was nothing compared to how he felt about her now. He both loathed and admired her in equal measure, depending on time and circumstance.
He was sat in the row behind her in Charms class and contemplated her while Professor Flitwick droned on.
She was currently passing notes to Remi, who was steadfastly ignoring them in favor of taking notes. Even when Jamie nudged the other girls ankle, she was met with a cross elbow to the side in retaliation. He grinned a little in amusement.
Liam, though he cared little for Siri and her sometimes sullen, sometimes deviant attitude, was rather fond of Remi. The quiet girl had a kind smile, tempered by a sharp wit and keen intelligence. Petra he found strange but pleasant enough. Clearly hanging off the coat tails of Black and Potter, he somewhat pitied her; he was stunned that either of the bolder girls tolerated Petra but had witnessed both of them helping Petra with essays in the past. He admired Petra and Remi's ability to put up with the more obnoxious duo of their group.
Both girls were notorious for their laid back attitudes when it came to their studies, yet both also excelled academically. It stoked the fire of irritation in him when he thought about how hard he had to work to get the good grades he did. While he couldn't pin their successes solely upon their magical upbringing in comparison to his muggle one, he begrudgingly admired how fantastically clever they were.
Potter in particular possessed a bright mind and silver tongue. Loathed as he was to admit it, he liked that about her. Although, nowadays the number of things he liked about her lobbied viciously against what he hated. He sighed and leaned onto his hand, idly tracking her long black curls. He watched her distractedly twist fine strands into a dark, little braid, nail polish chipped and nails bitten.
Liam tried to recall the little girl on the train, the bully at the lakeside, tried to bring to mind all the nasty things he'd ever seen her do or say. If only to make him feel less ashamed that he was fascinated by his friend's sworn enemy.
It had taken Liam a while to get to grips with Quidditch. As an avid football fan, he'd found the magical sport a little confusing but thrilling to watch; he never missed an opportunity to go and cheer on his house team with a loud cheer and vibrant banner. Though he only knew two of the team members personally, both Potter and a boy called Charlie, he always felt his house pride swelling in his chest, come victory or defeat.
Potter was an excellent chaser. Even though one of the girl's most damning qualities in his eyes was her unfailing arrogance, he couldn't deny that she was bloody brilliant when she was in the air. Swift and stealthy, she sped through the air like a hummingbird after the quaffle, landing it through the hoops with a grace that must have left the opposing chasers fuming with jealousy.
He cheered loudly when she landed another score, the commentator singing her praises as their housemates roared in triumph around him. Though they always supported their team with delight, Gryffidor took particular pleasure in playing against Slytherin. The rivalry between both houses was legendary and it was no less so on the Quidditch field. He knew their players had to be extra sharp, extra cautious of the tricks Slytherin's were capable of.
Liam knew better than to judge an entire house based upon their so called 'common traits'; he'd grown up with a Slytherin girl as a best friend after all. Though the thought of Sev nowadays made something unpleasant churn in his stomach; after that damming word had left her lips, they had never quite been the same. Liam was under no illusions as to the suspicious company she kept, the dark magic she assured him she hadn't used. The deep scratch in Potter's arm attested otherwise, which Sev had fiercely denied when he'd questioned her about it. Logic made him question why he believed a girl he loathed over the girl he'd grown up with, but he knew why. Sev had always been bitter at the world, held her thoughts and her contempt close to her chest and though a part of him would always remember the sweet, wonder filled girl he'd met as a child, he knew she was capable of darkness.
Potter, however much she crawled under his skin and itched at him, had no deception about her. For good or ill, she wouldn't waste time on secrecy or deceit. She was far too noble, too proud to lie about what didn't require a lie.
Even now, Liam could see Sev across the field, Lucius Malfoy whispering in her ear with a smirk. He breathed in a deep, heavy breath. Liam had spent hours detailing to Sev what he thought of the company she kept and he knew full well she wasn't blind to their natures. It had taken a long time for him to come to terms with her choices.
The crowds around him hollered and jumped when Tony, their keeper, saved another goal and he felt a grin split his lips. The thrill of a well played sport sung in his veins and he cheered along with his friends.
The game was playing out spectacularly well, Gryffindor sure to win as soon as their seeker spotted the golden snitch. He doubted anyone could have predicted the sharp shriek that rang out three rows behind him.
Startled, he turned to see Black and Remi on their feet, faces pale and horrified. He looked back to the pitch and felt his chest freeze to ice.
Jamie Potter was plummeting to the ground like a puppet with her strings cut, her broom raining down in splinters around her like shattered glass.
Instinct made him lunge forward even though logically he knew he couldn't help. His housemates were shouting around him, any sense of jubilation dashed in place of fear for their team member, who hit the ground with a sickening thump.
Liam held his breath, heart raging in his rib cage, his eyes fixed upon Jamie, mentally urging her to stand. To stand and grin and wave, laughing at her own dramatic jest. But she didn't stand, nor did she move. Staff members rushed out to her and her three best friends were frantically scaling the stands to get to her.
Siri lunged past him, roughly knocking his shoulder; her face was pure white with panic. He dimly pondered that he'd never seen her express so much emotion over another human being. He couldn't move. His feet felt frozen to the stands as he watched Jamie be lifted, limp and battered. There was blood on her forehead and her bouncing pony tail had come loose.
He looked up, gazed across the pitch, dazed and couldn't find it within him to feel taken aback by the smile on Sev's face.
He didn't know what he was doing here; pacing outside the hospital wing as if he and Potter were best buddies. The entire school knew he obviously disliked her, what on earth was he doing here? But he couldn't deny that his fingers were trembling. Watching her fall had been more terrifying than when Petunia had fallen from their garden swing and broken her wrist. This was so much scarier.
The last he'd seen her had been mere hours ago but he couldn't shake the image of her dark hair matted with blood, glasses lost on the playing field. Liam was well aware that in terms of medicine, magic helped witches and wizards achieve medical feats muggles could only dream of; that did stop him from squeezing his hands together tightly at his sides. Nor did it stop him from jumping when the heavy door behind him lurched open.
Siri hadn't seemed to notice him when she leaned back against the door, face wary and pinched. He approached her quietly.
"Siri?"
The girls face quickly rose to meet his and she blinked at him owlishly.
"Evans? What the hell are you doing here?"
An excellent question, he mused, but his desire to know how Potter was outweighed any concerns he had about holding up his uncaring pretense.
"How is she?"
Siri straightened and smoothed down her robes, regaining composure.
"She's alright. Has a few war wounds, but I told her scars always impress the fellas, so she'll live."
"Isn't it the opposite way around? Aren't girls supposed to love a guy with scars?" He mused curiously.
She raised a perfectly sculpted brow at him, challenging.
"A guy that doesn't like a girl with a badass Quidditch scar? A guy like that isn't worth her time."
Floored, he clicked his jaw shut and nodded in agreement. She seemed amused by this, for reasons unknown to him, and moved away from the door.
"Anyway, you can stop lurking out here like a creep and go see her. I've been ordered away on an errand anyway."
"An errand?"
She nodded, beginning to stalk past him with her confident gait.
"Her majesty in there has demanded I go and find her glasses. Who am I to deny the wounded princess?"
The mocking bow she throws at the door is belied by the slight shake in her voice, in the shake of her fingers as she struts away in search of her best friend's glasses. The thought makes Liam smile slightly; the odd friendship between Black and Potter had fascinated him from day one. Their odd, playful rapport offset by the obvious deep affection and sisterhood they clearly felt and showed. Any outsider would feel jealous of such a friendship. Liam certainly was; he was still so keenly feeling the effects of his own crumbling, childhood friendship.
He looked at the large doors and summoned his courage.
He'd only been in the hospital wing once before, when he'd caught a stomach bug in his second year, but he clearly recalled how pristine it was in there. He could spy Jamie propped up by pillows in a corner bed, looking grumpy.
Her usual, messy hair was a sheer riot atop her head, curls and ringlets spit firing wildly. Her brows drawn into a tight frown as her lips pursed. His amused smile vanished when he spied the brilliant bruise staining her temple and cheekbone, which thankfully looked to be rapidly fading.
"I don't know who you are, but stop creeping around my bed."
He stopped short, realizing with a start that, just as she couldn't a few years prior in a hallway, she couldn't see him clearly. He walked closer to the bed and coughed awkwardly.
"Hey Potter, that was a pretty impressive dive."
She relaxed minutely into the pillows with a relieved breath.
"Ah, Evans. I thought I could see a red blob. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Liam noticed that her words slurred together slightly and wondered just how lucid she was feeling at the moment. He wondered if she'd remember this.
"Come on, I'm sure you've had all of Gryffindor in here asking after you."
"Hardly. I've just had Siri, Rem and Petra fussing after me all afternoon."
He frowned at the dismissal of her friend's concern for her, recalling how shaken Black had looked.
"They care about you." Trying and failing to keep the reproach out of his voice.
She sighed and slumped further into the pillows; he moved to the chair beside her bed and winced when she turned to her side with obvious difficulty. He didn't comment or offer assistance, he knew it wouldn't be appreciated, he simply let her settle herself with clear discomfort until her pale face straightened out into a tired, but not pain filled, frown.
"I know they do. I'm alright though."
"You were hit really hard, it was pretty scary."
"Were you scared?" she asked. He believed that at any other time, in any other circumstance, this would have been said with a cloying undertone, perhaps with a mocking bat of long eyelashes. Right now though, he couldn't see or hear either.
Jamie was looking up at him, staring somewhere over his right ear, with dazed hazel eyes, brow furrowed in discomfort. She looked oddly sweet like this, which had never been a word he would have associated with her in the slightest, her sharp edges softened. Jamie Potter was not sweet. She was fierce and mischievous, playful and arrogant, brash and bold. She irritated him madly. But the girl in front of him looked like none of those things. She looked sleepy and pained, soft and rumpled.
He was ridiculously glad she couldn't see how hotly his ears were burning. Her eyes were slipping closed slowly.
"I was scared. Just a little though." He insisted.
She closed her eyes and the corner of her mouth twitched up in a sleepy smile.
"Just a little." She murmured, "Of course."
Liam couldn't begin to fathom why he stayed after she'd fallen asleep. He ignored the smug look Siri cast him when she returned with a cracked pair of glasses. He didn't tell anyone where he'd spend the afternoon and he certainly never spoke of it to Potter when she returned to their common room, looking a little worse for wear but proudly showing off the vicious looking scar across the middle of her thigh. Apparently, when she'd been hit by both rouge bludgers simultaneously, her broom had shattered and a piece had lodged itself into her thigh. The thought made him feel queasy.
The Gryffidor's around him admired it, a battle scar to commemorate their 'badass' game against Slytherin, whom they were scheduled to rematch next week.
Jamie looked terribly smug as she raised her skirt up to her mid thigh to show off the scar she had apparently asked Madame Promfrey if she could keep. Liam resisted the urge to roll his eyes until he heard a fellow fourth year guy called Dan mutter behind him,
"That's kind of hot."
Liam felt his cheeks flush and recalled Siri's words outside the hospital wing. He couldn't think of a single explanation as to why he suddenly wanted to smack Dan upside the head.
The summer between his fifth and sixth year was a lonely one. Petunia ignored his very presence and he welcomed it when Vernon ignored him too. The older teen was portly and unpleasant, his beady eyes seemed to miss nothing and the cloyingly sweet way he tried to charm their parents made Liam feel nauseous.
His childhood friends had long since moved on from the memory of him; the strange boy they had once been friends with, who disappeared every year to a far away boarding school that his sister couldn't attend.
He felt the loss of his friendship with Sev the most keenly. Every summer since he was nine had been spent with the dark haired girl, exploring the magic of the nature around them, talking about school and friends and magic like a gleeful secret they couldn't share with anyone else. He'd only seen Sev once so far; she'd barely spoken to him. He had his theories about where she was spending her time and who she was spending it with.
In his heart, he knew it wasn't for him to save her. He had tried to advise her, show her other options, actively discouraged her from exploring the darker nature inside her, but it was to no avail. She was, at times, strong minded and determined. His concerns had fallen on deaf ears and he wasn't sure what he could do to convince her otherwise.
It ached like a sharp sting in his heart that they had slipped apart from each other. He could see what kind of witch she was shaping up to be and he didn't like it at all.
During that summer, there were rumors stirring in the magical world. Talk of a power mad individual hell bent on the purification of wizarding bloodlines. Liam paid it no mind; he had his exams to study for.
His sixth year at Hogwarts bought all kinds of new and exciting challenges, learning new skills, preparing for his exams, deciding what to do with his future. He spent the fall of that year deliriously happy to be there.
In the Spring, Liam even decided to try dating a little; after so many years feeling awkward in his body and around girls, he finally felt confident enough to ask someone out. It was terrifying and exhilarating. He had tentatively approached Marie De La Cruz, a lovely, sharp witted Ravenclaw girl with short brown hair and intense green eyes, and asked her to spend an afternoon in Hogsmeade with him. While he was pretty certain she was out of his league, she had smiled brilliantly and nodded, her eyes gleaming attractively.
They spent a few sunny afternoons together before they realised their conversations were growing stale. Though Liam still enjoyed her company and she was lovely to look at (and she was even more excellent at kissing), he sipped his butterbeer and agreed with her sadly that yes, they were probably not going anywhere.
Perhaps they could have carried on, for the excellent snogging if nothing else, but Marie was a romantic at heart and (though he was slightly embarrassed to admit it) so was he.
He smiled at her when she tugged her bag up over her shoulder and leaned in to kiss his cheek before she made her way out of the Three Broomsticks. Liam sighed, feeling far from devastated, but he couldn't suppress the disappointment that he was missing out on something fantastic, as he watched other teens his age find their romantic partners.
Liam looked up when he spotted a familiar figure walking towards him. The sight of Potter still stirred feelings of irritation within him, but the once burning dislike had tempered to a well worn annoyance, depending on time and circumstance. She'd proved time and again that she was a far cry from the little girl who'd first mocked him and his friend on a train, but he could never quite shake the feeling of uneasiness around her. He never forgot what she was capable of.
He took stock of her now though and frowned. He realised she wasn't striding around the room with her usual gusto. Though still petite, she had grown in height and the skinny little girl had become a lithe young lady who had enough confidence to challenge even the most brash Slytherin. Having spent years watching her enter rooms, she usually did so in a manner that unintentionally demanded people's eyes be drawn to her. Her confidence a beacon and her gait eye catching.
Liam no longer bothered to deny to himself that she was certainly beautiful and that perhaps he had found her to be for years. For so long though, he could only see the unsightly traits that lurked, in parts, around her personality. This was still the case, but having wizened some in the passing years, he could understand why many of the boys at school sought her affections.
Confident, passionate, beautiful and charming, he supposed most boys would consider her their dream girlfriend. He would have to disagree, thinking upon the personality traits she had that irked him so much. But watching her walk towards him now, he could see none of the towering confidence she usually embodied.
Her jeans were plain, a loose, soft grey jumper matched her black boots, and her hair was pulled up into a rumpled bun atop her head. Usually her makeup was minimal, but even though he could see she was wearing it now, it couldn't disguise the exhausted look in her eyes.
She thumped herself down opposite him with a lofty sigh.
"I'm sorry if I've pinched your date's seat, but a stampede couldn't move me right now." Even her voice was laced with fatigue.
"Actually, she just left, so you're fine. Everything okay Potter?"
She looked up at him with a curious brow raised and he felt himself flush under her scrutiny. Couldn't he ask after her if she looked exhausted? For gods sake, for anyone else he would.
"Yeah," she replied, rubbing a hand through her fringe. "just a late night. Poor Seb probably thought he was boring me to tears this afternoon."
Seb? He wondered until his mind conjured an imagine of the handsome seventh year student on the Quidditch team. Sebastian Dacre; a beater, if he remembered rightly.
"Were you on a date with him?" He questioned, uncertain as to why he was dreading her answer.
Jamie shrugged, her posture seeming to sink into itself as she traced the names someone had carved into the table top.
"Of sorts, I guess. I wasn't really in the mood."
She shifted her shoulder, which, to the untrained eye, looked like a shrug. But Liam knew Potter, however reluctantly and could spot discomfort in her pinched face. He held him tongue though.
"How long have you been seeing him for?"
"Seeing…. Snogging… two weeks? I think I'll call it quits."
"Any particular reason?"
Potter shook her head tiredly, reaching to pull her drink toward her and allowing her loose jumper to slip slightly over her shoulder. Liam's brows practically climbed into his hairline at the sight of a vivid bruise, larger than the size of his hand, marring her shoulder. He must have sucked in a shocked breath because she quickly righted her garment and started to sip her drink.
"Where the hell was that from?"
She didn't meet his eyes.
"Quidditch." Bull.
"You haven't had a practice in two weeks."
Jamie glared at him, though her face lacked any of the familiar fury he'd seen gracing it on occasion.
"Fine. I got it helping someone out."
"What did they do, attack you for it?" He asked incredulously.
"No; that goddamn tree did though." She muttered bitterly; he didn't think she'd intended him to hear that though and she promptly sat straighter.
"The – do you mean the willow?" He still couldn't understand why they'd planted that vicious weed in the first place. All it did was thump anyone that was unfortunate enough to get near it.
Jamie nodded reluctantly.
"What the hell were you doing by the willow? That thing could kill you." He was pretty sure of that at least; the nasty beast looked dangerous enough to manage it.
She heaved out a heavy breath.
"You don't want to know, believe me."
Liam couldn't think of a response to that. Of course he wanted to know; he just couldn't justify why. The way it flustered him made him feel irrationally angry
"I always knew you were reckless but I can't believe you were stupid enough to go anywhere near it."
He fancied that he could practically see her bristling at the word stupid and felt shame creep into his chest. It wasn't any of his business what she got up to, how she spent her evenings; however, the thought of her wondering through the dark, only to be smacked into by that vile tree made him feel uneasy. She narrowed her eyes at him dangerously.
"You don't know anything about me, not really. Get over yourself Evans." She spat venomously.
With that, she hoisted her bag onto her good shoulder and turned to leave, loose black strands of her hair whipping in her wake.
He tried to find the right words in his mind to call out after her; he needn't of bothered. All his mind did was ask him why he wanted to call her back at all.
He mulled over a newspaper article the next day at breakfast. A power mad wizard, still on the prowl, supposedly murdering innocents. People were afraid to say his name aloud.
Liam spent the next few days avoiding Potter like the plague, the memory of their conversation sitting on his chest like a lead weight. He'd tried to put it out of his mind, until he overheard a few girls in his year gossiping in the common room. Remi Lupin had been in the hospital wing for three days with an unknown illness and the self-named Marauders were wondering the halls like ghosts. Now that he thought about it, the usual boundless energy and presence of Black and Potter had been utterly absent since the day he'd seen Jamie in the Three Broomsticks.
He couldn't recall either of the girls speaking to anyone and, according to house gossip, they weren't even speaking to each other. That in itself was unheard of. The thought of going to school and seeing Black without Potter, Potter without Black, seemed like a strange reality to live in.
Liam could see Potter across the common room, sitting in solitude by a dark window, face tipped towards to the glass. The irrational desire to go and talk to her felt almost overwhelming; he resisted. Not only did he have absolutely no idea what he would say to her, but he would be the talking point of Gryffindor if he publicly tried to comfort a girl who he had vocally professed to despise.
He stared back down at his Potions essay, but not before he spotted Black walking swiftly past Potter, neither girl making eye contact. Petra followed Black up the staircase, casting a longing glance back at their friend before disappearing.
Liam tried to reason that it was none of his business. It shouldn't concern him.
That certainly didn't stop him from feeling like a true coward for the first time in his life.
The following day, Remi was released from the hospital wing; she looked tired and moved stiffly but she spent the day glaring her friends into action. By the evening, Black and Potter were back to horse playing at the dinner table and everything once again felt right with the world. He could see the relief in their eyes but he noted that while Jamie's smile was wide and brilliant, it also looked subdued in a way he'd never seen before.
A few days later he found himself sat next to Remi in the library and once he saw the healing scratches on her collar bone, he couldn't look away. He knew there was a connection to this and Jamie's bruises, he wasn't a moron, but he also couldn't quite shake the feeling that he was intruding upon something that had nothing to do with him. In his heart Liam knew he wasn't simply just curious; these girls had been his classmates since he was eleven, he couldn't deny feeling concerned for them any longer.
Remi looked at him sharply from across the table when his eyes once again strayed towards her sore looking skin.
"What?" she whispered fiercely.
"How did that happen?" he asked, drawing up every last shred of courage in him.
Her liquid brown eyes widened and her cheeks flushed. She stared at him for a moment, as though trying to decide why he was asking.
"Please," he whispered, mindful of the calm library around them. "I won't tell anyone, I promise."
Remi lowered her quill to the table and sighed heavily; she looked tired to the bones.
"Why do you want to know so badly Liam?"
"I – Honestly, I'm not sure. You're my class mate, my friend and you were in the hospital."
"And that's a lovely sentiment, but I can tell that's not why. You're ears turn red when you're lying."
In response, they eagerly turned redder, to his humiliation. He'd always admired how shrewd Remi was.
"It's just, when you were in the hospital wing, I saw Potter in Hogsmeade. She looked exhausted and she had a huge bruise on her shoulder. Next thing I know, she and Black aren't talking and you've got a mysterious illness."
"So this is about Jamie?" she asked with narrowed eyes.
"No. You know what I think of her." he replied, too quickly to sound genuine to his ears. But it was genuine, he was sure of it.
Remi rolled her eyes and pinned him in place with a pointed look.
"Whether you admit to it or not, she isn't the villain you make her out to be."
Liam felt himself recoil slightly at the wording. Villain? Sure, he'd made it no secret that he didn't care for her company, that he'd witnessed her callousness first hand and seen the true extent of the more vicious sides of her personality, but he'd never thought her evil or unloving. Remi looked unimpressed by his surprise.
"Despite how cocky she is, how proud, easily offended and spoilt she can be, Jamie is a good person. She'd go to hell and back for the people she cares about, sacrifice everything for their sake. I mean, I've seen her risk her life for someone she despises." Remi said with emphasis, idly touching the scratching at her collar with her fingertips.
Liam felt his heart pounding in his chest, mouth slightly agape. He'd always known that Jamie's friends had a high opinion of her, but he'd always considered them biased. Of course they would defend their friend; Black was practically a carbon copy of Potter after all and Petra was as star struck by the pair as she had been since their first year. To hear Remi speak those words in Jamie's defense, voice sure and steady, underlined with annoyance, struck a chord in him.
The conflicting emotions he'd always held for Potter were coming to a fore so quickly, it was like roaring water in his ears.
"I know she's a good person." He admitted under his breath, largely for his own ears rather than Remi's. He didn't think he'd ever said such a thing out loud regarding the brash, raven haired girl.
Opposite him, Remi stood, collecting her books. She cast him a sympathetic look.
"I can't tell you what happened last week Liam. I hope you can respect that. But please just get to know Jamie. She really likes you and honestly I think, if you tried, you'd really like her too."
Liam barely registered her departure; his ears were ringing and his heart was thudding rapidly. Possibilities he'd never thought to consider were suddenly whirling through his mind like a tornado; tearing at everything he thought he'd been so sure of.
When Jamie cornered him in the owlery a few days before they were due to head home for the summer, he felt like he was a third year again. Gangly and awkward, clever words in short supply and no sure footing to be found. Surrounded by the soft fluttering of wings and the echo of a wide open space, he could avoid her no longer.
She walked towards him purposefully; she hadn't even bothered with the illusion of sending a letter. Her summer uniform was resplendent and her hair was loose and wild but he was unprepared for the repentant look she was casting him.
Awkwardly, she stood before him and he hoped to Merlin's beard his ears weren't burning as hotly as he imagined they were.
"Evans. Liam. I – I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for snapping at you the other day. You were right."
He remembered Remi's words. 'She really likes you.' Liked him how, he wondered. Why did he even care?
"No. I wasn't." He could admit to that much at least. He had no right to assume anything about her actions, much less to call her stupid because of them. "I just didn't understand why you'd put yourself in harms way like that."
She shrugged gracelessly, shoulders loose. He knew from her expression that she would never tell him what had happened that night. For some strange reason, he was alright with it.
"You were right, actually," his tongue suddenly felt very loose, as though he couldn't stop the words that spilled from his mind. "I don't know anything about you."
To admit as much felt like a balm, to finally verbalize how confusing she was to him, how he didn't know what to think of her and how conflicted she made him feel. Even now, as she stared at him with wide eyes behind her thick glasses, he felt the stirring of emotions he didn't understand and couldn't name.
"Liam?" A voice echoed behind them, overwhelming in the vast space.
He span and saw Sev standing in the entrance, a letter clutched so tightly in her fist that he fancied he could see her knuckles turning white. When he'd moved, he must have unblocked Sev's view of Potter and the Slytherin girl instantly scowled. There was so much poison in her glare that Liam was taken aback.
"Potter." She spat, as though she was uttering the most terrible and dirty curse word she knew.
Instantly, Liam was eleven again, standing between the two warring girls. To his shock though, no hexes or jinxes or spells left Jamie's lips. In lieu of those, she simply sighed, as though tired.
"Snape." She muttered through her teeth before throwing Liam a searching look. Her eyes were bright and hazel behind her glasses but when he stared back at her in confusion; she merely turned and walked away, passing Sev without a shove or a spell.
"If I don't see you, have a great summer Liam dear." Jamie called gleefully over her shoulder with a captivating smile. Liam fancied that he could see Sev's entire body stiffening.
Jamie walked past her, sharing a glance with the other girl that was so full of loathing that Liam could practically feel the hatred thickening the air.
Sev looked back at him when Jamie disappeared. He felt a shiver crawl up his spine unpleasantly.
"I hate her." Sev muttered nastily under her breath, "Vicious little bitch deserves every bit of misery she gets."
Liam gaped. He would admit that in the past, even a little still, he'd loathed Potter; found her callous and mean spirited. But he'd never wished misery upon her, had never spoken about her with such pure hatred in his voice.
When they had been children, Sevrine's face had been softer, her eyes had been wide and bright when she watched the flowers grow in Liam's palm. With him, she was gentle and encouraging. There was nothing left of that girl now, he realised. This girls face was drawn and sharp, no shred of light or joy was in her eyes. She had become a hard creature, devoid of pity or good judgment.
Liam's heart ached sharply at the final, sudden acceptance that stood before him was a girl he no longer knew nor recognised.
They stood mere feet away from each other; childhood friends that had danced through the rain and delighted in the flowers growing. Liam suddenly felt as if the span of the entire world was positioned between them.
Rumors about the pure blood enthusiast had become fact. He was stirring up trouble across the wizarding world. But here, tucked away in their castle of magic and wonder, it seemed so impossible for them to be touched by it.
Liam had dedicated his lonely summer to his studies and by the time he stepped upon Platform 9 3/4 he was ready to face the year ahead with exhilaration. The Head Boy badge on his chest gleamed in the overhead lighting.
Familiar faces passed him and he responded with eager waves and 'hellos'; he'd counted down every last minute until he could return to this wonderful world and he intended to make the most of every last minute of his final year. Which included facing up to the responsibilities Dumbledore had bestowed upon him.
However, as he walked into the prefect carriage, as he had done so before, he stopped dead in his tracks at the sight before him.
Jamie Potter; statuesque and clad in her robes, chatting to a newly appointed prefect boy. He absently noted that her previously long, wild hair had been cut to just above the shoulders; it made her cheekbones look more angular, the baby fat of a teenage face seeming to wade away to be replaced with more defined features.
Of course, all of this fell to the wayside when he spotted the Head Girl badge pinned to her robes. She turned and spied him at the entrance and grinned ruefully. Potter rubbed the back of her neck and waved a little.
"You?" He asked, his tongue feeling as dry as sand paper and his word laced with incredulousness.
She shrugged and tried not to look embarrassed when prefects around them roared with laughter at his reaction.
"Oh, trust me; I was ten times more surprised than you are."
Somehow, as his insides filled with dread, he sincerely doubted that.
Liam felt like he really couldn't help but stomp down the hallway on their first patrol. He knew he was being childish, he honestly did, but the pride and honour he'd felt when he first pinned the badge to his robes with shaking fingers felt like the biggest mockery in the world when walking next to Potter, clad in her Head Girl badge. The words Jamie Potter and responsibility just didn't go together. She was a rule breaker, a rebel, more mischievous than Peeves and more cunning than a Slytherin.
He honestly wondered for a while if Dumbledore was pranking him. That is, until Professor McGonagall congratulated Jamie with such sincerity that Liam nearly cried. Nearly cried tears of despair, that is. Jamie had just blushed and thanked their teacher.
He was so lost in his completely justified bitterness that he nearly jumped when Jamie coughed, non too subtly, beside him.
"So, Evans, are we really going to spend the next hour walking in silence as your curse my existence?"
"Curse – What?" he asked, baffled.
"You're literally huffing. Like a five year old."
He coloured at the comparison and faced forward, feeling annoyed.
"You're too dramatic." He told her bluntly.
"Hello pot, my name's kettle." She countered with a roll of her eyes.
He didn't even want to dignify that with a response. Blissful silence reigned again until Jamie stopped dead in her tracks. Confused, Liam stopped too and stared at her.
"What on earth are you doing? The sooner we finish this, the sooner we can go back to the dorms."
Jamie folded her arms, a fierce look hardening her eyes and pursing her lips.
"And of course, you'd rather spend as little time as possible with me."
"What? That's not what I meant." Well, not really, he thought.
"It was, Evans." Jamie ruffled her hair reflexively. She continued.
"I know you don't like me, I've known that for years. I've made a lot of stupid decisions, but the first time you met me, you formed an opinion of me that's never gone away."
Liam certainly couldn't deny that. Her mockery of himself and his friend had stuck with him for years. He'd never quite been able to shake that initial feeling. He didn't respond, which pretty much cemented his consent. She moved forward until she was mere feet in front of him. He could smell her flowery perfume.
"I want you to remember though, that I was eleven. However much I've been a horrible person since then, on that first day, I was eleven. Are you the same person you were when you were eleven?"
He remembered an idealistic little boy, one who believed his best friend was full of wonder and magic, where the world he currently lived in was peaceful and safe, a world where his sister could learn to love him again.
Liam shook his head but didn't verbally reply; he let her continue. Her eyes were bright and serious, more serious than he'd ever seen them. For the first time, he couldn't even begin to compare her to the little girl he'd met when he was eleven.
"I'm not perfect Liam," she admitted quietly, "I'm mean and bossy and spoilt and cocky. I'm so many more horrible things I wish I wasn't, but that's true for everyone. I'm sure there are things about yourself that you don't like."
He couldn't deny that one either.
"But I'd like to think I can be a better version of myself. I think that's why Dumbledore gave me this," She gestured to her badge with a small smile.
Jamie looked back at him with her seriousness renewed.
"That's why I know I'm going to surprise you. You've always thought the worst of me but you told me once that you didn't know anything about me." She grinned her Cheshire grin, teeth gleaming in the lamplight. "Now that we're being forced to spend all this quality time together, it looks like you're about to."
With a bounce in her step, she continued on down the hall, leaving him to follow, feeling slightly dazed.
He wouldn't tell her for years to come, but he knew in his heart that in terms of surprising him, she'd already done so dozens of times over.
They do spend hours together and he does learn about her. He learned that her parents are Aurors (which, he thinks, explains her deep hatred for the Dark Arts) and that her favorite food is spaghetti. He discovered that they like the same magical music band, that she is fascinated by muggle television shows. He listened with rapt attention when she talked about wanting to become a professional Quidditch player; he even told her, before he could stop himself, that he thought she'd be amazing at it. The shock and pleasure that lit up her face made him feel pink cheeked.
He also, almost without thought, confides in her. He talked about his muggle upbringing, laughing when she became confused over notions like 'toasters' and 'elevators'. He told her about his parents and how they feel about him being a wizard. She laughed riotously when he described his sister's boyfriend, Vernon. The portly, unlightly thing that he was. He was awe struck when she listened with sensitivity and sympathy when he talked about his sister; he explained that her love for him had been crushed under the heel of her jealousy and ignorance. She tried to understand, but admitted to being an only child.
From the way she spoke about her childhood, he got the impression that it had been a lonely one; her parents, older than most, had doted on her but had been absent for a lot of her childhood, busy with their important jobs. It wasn't until they were a few months into their final year that he realised he was beginning to dread the hour of their patrol ending. The time spent wandering the halls with her were whiled away too quickly.
She'd impressed him beyond measure when she'd disciplined two third years for being out past curfew. He had been even more so when she assigned a group of Gryffindor and Slytherin first years detention for having a hexing battle. Liam had coyly asked how it felt to be on the other side she had laughed and shrugged. She said being the rebel came with its consequences, she had always done the time to fit the crimes.
He doubted she had been caught for even a percentage of her infractions, which amused him greatly.
On one particular occasion, Sev walked past them. Jamie was busy talking to two Hufflepuff's breaking curfew but Liam's eyes followed Sev immediately. She looked back and him, then at Potter and snarled before stalking away. He shook his head, the disappointment in his heart aching like a still healing wound.
Upon returning from their Christmas break, Liam found himself actually, genuinely excited to see Jamie. He wasn't even conflicted enough to deny it. He honestly wanted to see her. He wanted to ask about her Christmas, he wanted to tell her about his. The feeling made his fingers and toes tingle and a smile stretched his lips. He spotted her sitting with her fellow Marauders amongst the other Gryffindor's settling down for the feast. She caught his eye mid laugh and a smaller, more private smile seemed to light up her face. A few Gryffindor's seemed to spot the exchange and looked toward him questioningly.
Liam swallowed and steeled his courage; he was a Gryffindor after all. He raised his hand in a (perhaps overly) exuberant wave at Jamie, who threw her head back in a laugh and waved back at him.
To say there were a few shocked faces among his peers was an understatement. He shook his head with a smile when Siri fist bumped Jamie with a smug grin.
Their patrols continued in the same friendly, lighthearted manner for a while; parts good natured ribbing and perhaps a little flirting. Liam personally didn't think he could flirt for anything in the world, but he found Jamie to be the queen of coy. The one occasion when she'd turned something he said into a cleverly subtle, saucy innuendo, he'd nearly collapsed against a wall laughing.
On one common, regular morning he found himself walking toward her at lunch. She was sitting alone, no doubt waiting on her friends arrival. Absorbed in a letter from her parents, he sat himself down opposite her, butterflies flapping around so wildly in his stomach that he felt a little queasy. She looked up and a lovely smile graced her features.
He swallowed heavily.
"Jamie," he said, quite seriously, despite his smile.
"Yes?" She replied, grinning somewhat smugly.
"Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me on Wednesday?"
The smile that lit her face was radiant and he wondered if his own could stretch any bigger. She leaned forward and placed her hands atop his; they were soft and warm and her nail varnish was still chipped.
"Of course I will, Liam dear."
Liam, though he very much wanted to, thought the happy dance he felt bubbling up inside would have been a tad much.
Jamie Potter had to be the most confusing, frustrating individual he'd ever had the pleasure and the unpleasure of meeting. She confounded him with the less attractive parts of her personality to the point where he'd been too stubborn to look past them, to see how brilliant she really could be. How brilliant they could be together. Remi really had been right, that day in the library. But he argued that they never could have been this spectacular any earlier. He was too obstinate and she too wild.
Together though, he pondered as her finger tips traced over his cheek, as his fingers curled through her mad hair and held her waist, they were bloody fantastic.
Whatever the future held, he knew they would be there to face it together.