Chapter One: A Midnight Confession

All around them, a furious thunderstorm raged. The winds that the month of March were famous for were blowing fiercely about, causing the more limber trees to sway wildly and the many loosened window panes within the castle to rattle weakly. Chilled needles of rain flew around in every way imaginable, and in general, the outdoors were a less than ideal place to be at the moment.

Why it was that Mia had selected the southern courtyard as the designated place for them to talk, James hadn't any idea. One of the several abandoned classrooms, one of their Common Rooms, the Room of Requirement – hell, even a broom closet, would have undoubtedly been more comfortable than the chilly, March night that awaited them outside the castle. But, upon catching the look that Mia carried, all thoughts of suggesting an alternate place to talk had disappeared.

The blend of fear and anxiety, each tied together with the most lost look he'd ever seen had made his stomach clench with unease. At the same time, the naturally protective instincts he held for anyone he cared about had risen fiercely, and he'd immediately made to wrap her in a tight embrace. But, Mia was completely unreceptive to the gesture, smoothly evading his opened arms with a graceful sidestep. James felt another surge of anxiety surge through him. He could feel in his bones that something was wrong. But, Mia wasn't telling – not until they had reached the courtyard.

Now, as they rested upon one of handful of moss-covered stone benches that decorated the courtyard, him straddling one end of it and her perched on the opposite end with her knees drawn up to her chest, Mia had revealed the cause of her poorly hidden distress. And, James had promptly gone numb.

The thin rivulets of rainwater that had collected in the grooves and cracks of the stone archways dripped lazily from the edges, the backlashes of the splattered drops sprinkling them with wetness. Several particularly strong gusts of wind rushed through their hair and pushed against their faces. The frequent and deep throbs of thunder seemed to shake the very foundations of the castle, sending faint vibrations through the stone ground his feet rested on.

But, James couldn't feel any of those sensations.

At the moment, he couldn't feel anything at all. The very moment that those words had been breathed through the parted, enticingly full lips that he'd always relished kissing, it was almost as if the surrounding world had disintegrated into absolute nothingness. James found himself swept up into a blanket of numbness, a blanket so thick that it blocked out all there was to the outside world. Nothing around him existed, and he was oblivious to all of it.

Yet, where he was aware of nothing around him, James found that he was acutely aware of all the sensations assailing his body. His heart seemed to slow down considerably, until he could feel each beat exactly, feel every drop of blood it pumped through his body. His breathing seemed to still altogether, his lungs screaming for relief, but his mind unable to command the action. Each and every muscle in his body ceased to move, his hand frozen around his brightly glowing wand in a grip so strong, there was a distinct possibility that the slender wooden instrument would snap cleanly in two. His honey brown eyes, inherited from his mother in all their sparkling glory, had seem to forget what blinking was, and glazed over, unseeingly.

Time itself seemed to slow, until he was certain that it had come to a complete stop, perhaps ceasing to exist at all.

I think I'm pregnant, Jamie…I think I'm pregnant, Jamie…I think I'm pregnant, Jamie…

The words echoed in his head, bouncing around, intensifying and becoming louder with each repetition. For a moment, James wondered if he had heard her incorrectly, that perhaps he had misunderstood her because of a peal of thunder or particularly loud gust of wind. But, no. The more the words churned around in his mind, the more certain he became that Mia had definitely said what she had, and it hadn't been a miscommunication.

Mia was pregnant. Mia was going to have a baby. Mia was carrying a tiny life inside her. Mia was expecting.

No matter how many different ways he phrased it, no matter how many different combinations he made from the implications, in the end, it all came to mean the same thing. At the age of seventeen, Amelia Zabini and James Potter had created a whole other life. A life that was blossoming and developing as they sat there. A life which they would be responsible for, each and every day, for the rest of their lives.

It was all too much to believe, too much to take in.

He was about to be a father. He was expecting a little witch or wizard. Within her, Mia carried his –

Though the numbing layer of fog that had enveloped his mind, the thought sprang to life and instantly began to fester. For a moment, James was faintly shocked that the thought was worth consideration. As far as he knew, Mia had lain only with him. He knew without a doubt that she had been the witch he'd given his virginity to. But, could he say the same for Mia? Could he say with the same amount of doubtlessness that she had afforded him the same?

No matter how deeply he desired to repeat the experience they'd shared back in December, the fact remained that there weren't many opportunities around Hogwarts to do so. Not only were they in separate Houses, each being on completely different parts of the castle, but they each had responsibilities and duties to uphold, responsibilities and duties that left little or no time for rendezvousing in secluded parts of Hogwarts. Since that first time, James and Mia had only been able to be with one another twice – and, one of those times was more like a quick shag than any actual lovemaking.

Perhaps she'd been overtaken by her desires one evening…

Maybe she'd found herself unable to find release by her own hands…

There was a chance that someone other than himself had been able to offer her release…

In classic James Potter fashion, before he'd had the chance to process the idea ricocheting around in his head, before he truly stopped and considered what his words would imply or what affect they had, he pieced together the half-formed ideas simmering within his mind, and voiced them. By the time he realized what he was saying, the question had slipped from between his colorless lips and floated into the clammy air.

"Is it mine?"

CRACK!

Where he had been hovering in a strange gap in time, where everything was frozen and nothing registered, the thoroughly unexpected and quite painful sensation of Mia's hand flying backwards and colliding with surprising strength across his face jerked him back into reality quite firmly. Instinctively, his own hand flew up to his face, the entire right side of his face radiating with such intense pain, it was nearly as numb as the rest of him.

"What the fuck, Amelia!" exclaimed James, curling forward slightly as his face gave another painful throb.

"I cannot believe you," hissed Mia, icily. The golden light that his wand had been producing bobbed around erratically as James wrenched forwards with another his of pain, and the random slivers of light that fell across her face showed her amber-green eyes to be glittering like hardened jewels. "I can't believe that you have the balls to ask me something like that."

"I mean, I – it was – I didn't – " stammered James. His face was throbbing steadily now, the ache arching upwards into his temple. "I mean – it's just a question – "

"It is not just a question! Not in the slightest, you stupid fucking bastard!" Mia spoke through her teeth, her voice becoming more frigid with each word. The acridity of her sarcasm seemed to pierce him, as tightly as it was curled around her icy fury. "It is an insinuation that now that you've graced me with the overwhelming gift of your potent sexuality, I've become a loose girl. That now that I've had a taste of what sex is like with the godly and amazing James Potter, I can't get enough of it, and have taken up finding it wherever I can get it – "

Mia inhaled a deep and shuddering breath, and when she spoke again, it was obvious that she had taken a direct leap into hysterics. Her voice, which James had always found irresistibly alluring, its cultured and smooth cadence similar to the sounds of elegant music to his ears, had become unpleasantly shrill, quavering with each forthcoming word. Her rich copper brown complexion, which seemed to glow in the faint light from his wand, had was flushed with color. And her eyes, which could have previously been likened to chips of ice, were now held a differ glint – that of wounded anger and unshed tears.

James, however, barely noticed this. He was still reeling from the unexpected backslap to the face, his shocked indignity hardening his face into a piercing question. "I did not say that! I didn't say that at all – "

"But you meant it!" screeched Mia. "You fucking meant it!"

"Don't you tell me what I meant, woman!" James barked in response. The ache in his face was a steady throbbing now, and with a particularly nasty pulse, he felt something warm and wet begin to ease between his index and middle fingers. A glance downwards at his withdrawn hand revealed a smear of crimson blood, and accusingly, his honey brown eyes snapped upwards. "Look at what you did to me!"

"Look at what I did to you?" Mia was breathing unevenly now, inhaling sharply and exhaling harshly. "Look at what I did to you?!"

For the span of two heartbeats, there was silence. Then, a shriek similar to that of a wounded Kneazle soared from between her bared teeth, and Mia lunged forward, her hands blindly thrashing about.

"LOOK AT WHAT YOU DID TO ME!"

James was as completely and utterly prepared for this attack as he had been for the initial slap. With a shocked curse, his wand was released from the death grip that it had been held in, a sprinkle of brilliant red sparks bursting from the tip. Uselessly, it clattered onto the sodden ground below them. The sudden absence of light only made the situation worse; where as he had seen her hand flying towards him a split-second before it connecting with his face, now, he could see little more than her darkened silhouette whenever a powerful burst of lightening burst from the roiling clouds blanketing the sky. James was alarmed by the fact that his potential for fending her off, or at the very least, blocking her, had dwindled distressingly within the space of a heartbeat.

Ducking away from her as best he could, James thought to grab at her wrists and lock them together, but quickly squashed the thought. As much as she intent on hurting him, the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. And, in the unexpected darkness they found themselves in, James realized that there as every chance that he could accidentally strike her, or even worse, knock her off the bench completely.

So, unwilling to retaliate, James settled for attempting to quail her with words. A fat lot of good it was doing him, too.

"Damn it, Mia – stop! – fucking hell – quit it, woman – OUCH! – "

"You stupid, stupid, stupid wanker! You make me sick!"

"Amelia! Will you calm – stop it! – Mia, stop – "

"You make me sick, James Potter! I hate you! You fucking prat – "

Though he'd never say so, James found himself distantly agreeing with her claims of his stupidity. It was probably the most insulting thing he had ever said to her, and he knew she was totally justified in slapping the piss out of him. But, sweet Merlin in his grave, this was beginning to hurt worse than seven kinds of Hell.

(Not mention, how embarrassing was it that he was receiving a hysterical beat down from a witch?)

Each time she succeeded in belting him, the resulting ache instantly blossomed into a flare of pain akin to a tiny Bludger. Each time her long, firm, and perfectly manicured nail found an exposed bit of skin and viciously raked downwards or sideways, the scratches stung worse than getting hit with a direct Relashio. And, each time she shoved at him, the rough gesture continuously catching him off-guard, he realized he was in very real danger of flipping backwards off the bench and cracking his head on the stone below.

Mia was hysterically enraged, the emotions and feelings she'd been more than likely tightly bottling up since first discovering her secret pouring out uncontrollably. On average, James found that he was rather good at heading off any head of steam an enraged witch was building up. He'd had seventeen years of experience so far in wrangling with more than one wrathful witch, and he'd liked to think that he was getting better and better at it each time it occurred.

However, this had been a sneak attack, completely and thoroughly unexpected.

If nothing else, Amelia Zabini was her father's daughter, and Blaise Zabini was quite known for his distant and disdainfully chilled demeanor. James wouldn't go as far as saying that she was as emotionally detached as her father, but Mia had definitely picked up on Blaise's tendency to keep his emotions tightly controlled and collected. Never before had he seen her anger manifest itself in this style – a burst of fiery, fierce frenzy of wrath and hysteria. The few times she'd unleashed her anger on him, it had always been in the shape of one singularly frigid glare, a frosting over of her amber-green eyes that made you feel as though you'd walked through a ghost or been struck directly in your bones with a Freezing Charm.

James wasn't quite certain how to deal with her while she was in this state, but he urged himself to figure something out, quickly. The longer he allowed her to go on like this, the more hysterical she would become, and the bigger chance there would be that the attack ceased to be physical and turned magical. And, to be blasted apart by anger-turned-tangible was one of the last things he wanted.

"Amelia – ouch, fuck! – will you calm down?! Stop this – quit – "

James was desperately trying, though, truly trying for the first time in his life to dissolve a volatile situation with words instead of magic or his fists. But, the moment he realized that Mia was too far gone for words of any kind was when her clawed hand slipped right past the flailing of his hands and found his cheek. Ruthlessly, she pressed her nails into his skin and dragged them downwards, leaving four long and rather deep crimson lines in their wake.

It was the wand that broke the hippogriff's back.

"You fucking – " bellowed James, recoiling from the searing flare of pain that sprung to life ferociously across his cheek.

Not caring that they were in the dark, not caring that he might hit her in the process or knock her over, James shoved his hands outwards, and on pure instinct, locked onto her wrists. Once he had them in a grip, he swiftly crossed them together, and clasped both his hands over them solidly. There was no chance of her freeing them again, without flipping the both of them over and onto the ground.

"Let me go!" shrieked Mia, struggling. The blended shriek and sob that wrenched itself from her throat was one of the most disconcerting sounds that James had ever heard in his life. "Don't you dare touch me! You touching me got me in this – this – this – mess in the first place – "

"For fuck's sake, woman, stop it!" A bit rougher than he intended, James shook her, and the unexpected jolt seemed to grab her attention. Tightening his clasped hands around her wrist, he squeezed tightly, and shook her once more. "Stop it, stop it, stop it!"

Both breathing heavily and glaring at one another, James and Mia sat unmoving for one long moment. During their struggle, the rainfall had increased significantly, and now, there was nothing to be heard around them but the dull roar of rain hammering against everything relentlessly. A booming peal of thunder exploded from the clouds, and distantly, James was thankful. At least there wasn't any chance of anyone – most of all, a patrolling professor – having heard what just happened.

A tense silence floated thickly between them. And, then –

Mia drew in a sharp and strangled breath, and with one long, shuddering sob, all of her frenzied anger drained out of her. Absolute misery seemed to come crashing down on her with astounding force. And, unable to handle the burden on her own, Mia slumped forward onto James, sobbing.

"James…" His name came out in a one long, miserable moan. "James, w-what have w-we d-d-done?"

Her devastation was almost palpable. With his entire face aching, one side still pulsating from the initial slap and the other side throbbing as blood rushed to the surface and seeped out of the scratches, his head hurting something fierce, and a dull ache spreading from each blow she'd landed and seeming to connect with one another to make one big lattice of pain, James tried his damnedest to be furious with her. Who the bloody hell did she think she was, attempting to pound him into slush? He could count the number of times on one hand that he'd been belted one good, and he hated that now, this little episode had to be added to the list. Not to mention, he'd been laughed right out of Britain if anyone found out that he'd been beaten down by his girlfriend.

He wanted so badly to be angry with her. He wanted to rage at her just as fiercely and furiously as she had raged at him. To lash out at her blindly, using her as the closest outlet for his tumultuous emotions.

But, he couldn't.

No matter how intensely he tried, much in the same way all her anger and hysteria had drained out of her, James felt his indignation and anger at being whaled on without little warning evaporating as though they'd never been there. Without the intensity of his anger, James felt boneless, and his entire body seemed to melt under the weight of his and Mia's combined emotions.

Surely, blind fury would be easier to deal with than the steady swell of emotions surging up within him. To be so enraged that you noticed nothing would be better than having to reckon with the icy chill of fear and shock crystallizing around his heart with each passing moment. To be filled to bursting point with righteous indignation would be far better than nearly bursting with the expanding bubble of overwhelming emotions, all funneling through him faster than he could name or register them.

And certainly, to be heated with realization that you'd been wronged was better than be chilled to the bone with the realization that you had completely and totally ruined both your life and that of your girlfriend's, all because he couldn't stand having the piss taken out of him by his mates.

Numbly, James loosened and released the grip he had on Mia's wrist, and allowed them to fall. Without hesitation, Mia curled her arms around him, and clung to him desperately. Her embrace was nearly suffocating, but James hardly noticed. He was barely breathing as it was.

"Mia, I…I don't…"

Words escaped him, but he hadn't expected to find any. What was it could you say exactly to the girl you'd accidentally knocked up? For several long moments, James tried to grasp at the right combination of words that would possibly make this better, perhaps make this situation go away completely. But, when he found nothing, his mouth – desperately needing to something, anything at all – took charge, and expressed the one thing he could think of.

"I am so sorry, Mia."

If anything, the whispered words fueled her tears. Pressing her face so firmly into his shoulder that he wasn't sure she could breath, her body shuddered against him that made him feel as though someone was turning a knife within his chest. He wanted to make this better, truly he did. But, there was nothing to be done at present moment, nothing that could erase this terrible dilemma from reality as they wished.

Lost and afraid, James could do nothing more than allow Mia to cry into his shoulders, as the world rained down on them.