A.N.: So excited for this chapter and the one after this. They'll be huge in the plot, definite catalysts for some major drama. By the way, two chapters were named chapter six by accident, so the names are a bit off, I apologize. But I can assure you that this is the ninth chapter! Enjoy!
Disclaimer: No ownership here…
Nine: Green and Gold
"Alright, bring it in!" James called, landing gracefully on the pitch. Practice had run a bit late, and it was cold out. Their breath rose into the air in misty clouds and everyone's faces were flushed with the chill. But the eyes were bright with adrenaline and satisfaction—it had been a good practice especially for a Friday night. James was confident that they could win the match tomorrow.
Although, he was doing his best not to show it. He needed to avoid the reckless arrogance that had led to their last match against Hufflepuff being harder than anticipated, his teammates completely blindsided. And Hufflepuff could barely hold a candle to the Slytherin team in past years. He knew that this year would be no different.
"You played well," he told the other six members firmly. "But Merlin knows you can play better. We acted like idiots in our first match, and we only won because we got our act together in time." He cast a quick, fleeting glance at Anna before continuing. "We can beat Slytherin, but we need to be on our A game. No staying up late tonight. Everyone needs to get some sleep and eat breakfast tomorrow. This is a good team we're up against. And we all know Gryffindor doesn't like to get shown up by Slytherin, or anyone else for that matter. Let's not let them down."
"Aye, aye, Captain," Fred agreed, clapping him on the back.
"We'll crush those twats," Winnie announced, a demonic sort of smile on her face.
"Good to hear it Bower, now practice dismissed." He waved them off and turned, grabbing the shuddering box containing the Quaffle, Bludgers and Snitch before following the rest of them to the locker rooms.
The shower was hot, untying the knots of anxiety that had formed in his muscles. He scrubbed the cold sweat away from his scalp and exhaled. They needed to beat Slytherin. His pride would not allow them to loose. Everyone expected them to win the Cup, and it was times like this when the Captain's badge felt heavy on his chest. His father's legacy, regardless of the defeat of Voldemort, was difficult to live up to.
Relax, he reminded himself, turning the water off and drying off. It's a Quidditch match. Regardless of its importance, you've won before. You can win again.
Dressed in a gray cotton long sleeved shirt and black running sweats, he stepped out of the locker room with his broom and dirty uniform slung over his shoulder.
His original intent was to head up to his dormitory and read a chapter or two on strategy to clear his head, and then go to sleep. But fate presented him instead with a pleasant alternative: a slight brunette with a pixie cut and a seductive smirk on her lips, hips cocked to one side as she leaned against the wall in wait.
"Jasmine. Didn't expect to see you here," he greeted.
"I like to think I'm unpredictable," she answered, the smile widening as she peeled herself away from the wall and fell in step beside him. "You look stressed."
"Well I do have a match tomorrow," he reminded her as they walked.
She touched his shoulder gently, running her fingers down his arm. Their walk slowed. "I think you should relax a bit." Her voice lowered, and they were fully stopped now. He tilted his gaze downwards to meet her eyes. Slowly, she rose up on tip toe and kissed his jaw, just below his ear, before whispering: "what do you think, hmm?"
"I think I know a shortcut to Ravenclaw Tower," he suggested. Jasmine interlocked her slim hand with his and pulled him along, giggling a little. James casually spent a practiced spell on his broom and uniform, ensuring that they would appear on his bed, all the way on the other side of the castle, and followed her through the blue and bronze portrait hole. The midnight blue decked room wasn't crowded; a great portion of the Ravenclaw house spent Friday nights in the library or at club meetings. And mercifully, Jasmine's sixth year dormitory was empty. The second he kicked the door closed behind him, her hands were tugging off his shirt as she kicked off her shoes. He kissed her, his lips working their way across her jaw and neck and collarbone. They fell back on her bed and he kicked his shoes off. Everything about this girl radiated lust and just like that; the match was a far off subject in his mind. The last article of clothing between them hit the floor and any notion of living up to expectations had evaporated completely. Jasmine sighed against his mouth, a low purr.
Two hours later, as the clock neared nine, James took one last glance at the naked girl draped over him and slid out of her bed, taking care not to disturb her sleep. Quietly, he pulled on his clothes, slid his feet into his sneakers and left. It seemed that the rest of the house was beginning to return, and he felt a wave of relief that he'd left in time. It wasn't even that late. He could make it back to Gryffindor Tower in ten minutes and get the sleep he'd promised to get.
He had no idea that in the library at a table all by herself, was the aftermath of a promise he'd already broken. And it was certainly too late to change that.
Lily loved Quidditch matches. Although she'd never had the opportunity to play on the House team, watching was something she'd always enjoyed. As she took her seat between Hugo and Louis in the stands, she could feel the buzz of excitement in her veins.
The stands on their side of the field were awash with scarlet and gold, large banners of support waving in the winter wind. Across from them was a sea of green, just as energized as the Gryffindors. This could very well be the greatest match of the season, regardless of the fact that the Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry was nothing like it had been in her parents' generation.
"Go lions!" she screamed in unison with the rest of her House.
"We'll crush them," Hugo told her fiercely, a manic grin on his face. There were gold and red streaks across his cheekbones and he was wearing his knitted lion hat, courtesy of Grandma Weasley.
"Definitely. Slytherin's better than Hufflepuff but James is a great Captain. And we've got a top notch team," Louis agreed, boasting slightly. Lily rolled her eyes. Boys, she thought. All talk and pride and puffed up chests.
Not that she didn't believe Gryffindor would win. They would, if her two older brothers had anything to do with it. She waited impatiently for the team to make their entrance onto the field. The conditions were far better than those during the match against Hufflepuff—despite the early December cold, the sky was pale blue, the wintry sunlight sparkling against the snow over the grounds and pitch. She could barely make out Roxanne in the commentator's stand to her right, Headmistress McGonagall seated beside her in tartan cloak and furs.
"Here come the Snakes!" her cousin announced into the microphone, her voice magnified across the field. The green crowd erupted into jeers and wild applause as seven figures emerged from the locker rooms in emerald robes emblazoned with silver numbers and last names on the back. Scorpius was among them. Against odds and the Quidditch rivalries, Al and Scorpius had always been best mates, something Lily found near impossible. Hugo and Louis were both in Gryffindor with her, and she couldn't picture a life at Hogwarts with the three of them in separate houses.
"So where's Carmichael?" Louis nudged her in the ribs, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Lily glared and him, glad that her face was already flushed from the weather. All the better to hide the heat that she felt rose to her face.
"He said he had to study for his Arithmancy test or something," she informed him briskly. "Besides, I don't even know if we're dating. We've been on dates—does that make it official?" The official status of the relationship was where all her uncertainty lay. She was especially careful to not refer to Owen as her boyfriend, because what if she did and word got around and he thought she was weird because they weren't dating officially? Boys would think she was bonkers, and no one would ever ask her out again.
Louis laughed. "If he's taken you on multiple dates, you're practically his girl. Unless he's an arse, he intends to ask you to be his girlfriend soon."
Lily gave her blond cousin a skeptical look. "And what makes you the expert, Louie?"
Hugo snickered. "He's not, Lily Luna."
"Wotcher," Louis remarked sharply, swatting Hugo on the back of the head, knocking off his lion hat into the row in front of them. Hugo dived and caught it, landing himself smack in between Valentine and Annabelle Dwyer, a pair of twins that Lily shared her dormitory with. They both giggled, and a flustered Hugo made a theatrical bow to hide his slight embarrassment at nearly tackling them.
"Because you're an expert as well," Lily laughed, punching him in the arm as he sat back down beside her.
"Shut it and watch the match. It's about to start," Hugo protested, punching her back. Laughing still, Lily turned her attention to the field once more as the Gryffindor players made their appearance.
Thousands of feet below, a very serious looking James stepped forward to shake hands with the Slytherin Captain Ansel Nott. There seemed to be an intense staredown of some sort; before they stepped away and both teams mounted their brooms. Madam Hooch, much frailer and her spiky hair completely white, blew her whistle and with a swoosh, the fourteen players were in the air and the match had begun.
James caught the Quaffle, deftly avoiding a collision with Nott and speeding down the pitch towards Slytherin's hoops. He brought his arm back to shoot, and instead of attempting to score, handed it off to Winnie Bower in an excellent fake, who in turn sank it through the middle hoop. The Slytherin Keeper, Rothberg, spun around on her broom, a sour expression on her face.
"And that's 10-0, Gryffindor!" Roxanne squealed excitedly. "Rothberg not looking to pleased by that, but the reds are in it to win it!"
The red ball was now in the hands of one of the green clad Chasers, a skinny boy crouched over his broom. Fred whacked a Bludger towards him, and it missed the player but hit the broom, knocking the Chaser off course and sending him cartwheeling through the air, clutching him broom for dear life. Lily joined her peers in screaming her approval. Anna caught the falling Quaffle and passed it to James, who passed it back. She was halfway towards the hoops when Nott crashed into her. She rolled over midair, holding tight to the Quaffle by her fingertips, a murderous look on her face.
"Nott attempts homicide, let's see if it's a penalty," Roxanne's voice spoke, an underlying tone of indignation clearly present. "Looks like Hooch seems to think that's legal. Well, Wood is out for blood, she dodges a Bludger sent her way courtesy of Trenton and SHE SCORES!"
The red crowd exploded into celebration. "20-0, Gryffindor is still in the lead!" Roxanne continued, whooping into the microphone for good measure. But their cheers were cut short as Slytherin scored, narrowing the lead once more.
Lily had never seen James play with such ferocity, and his team seemed to be channeling his spirit; Fred sustained a blow to the head and Niall a Bludger to the stomach. Sure, he was sick on the pitch, but he managed to save the incoming Slytherin shot all the same. Though she had never played on a real team, Lily knew for a fact that this was nothing like the Hufflepuff match. Slytherin team was almost twice as good, but Gryffindor was well attuned to each other, and they hadn't been surprised by the skill of the enemy. It almost seemed as if they had telepathy; the Chasers cirled around each other, and halfway into the game James scored another three times, with an excellent assist from Winnie. Far above, Al cirled like a hawk, Scorpius five hundred feet away from him.
"Fjort scores another for the snakes, that's a 80-70 Slytherin!" Roxanne groaned.
"Beat them to pulp!" Hugo shouted furiously, his hat again forgotten on the stands behind him as he rose to his feet.
"Go Anna! Shoot!" Lily screamed, pumping her first in the air as the Chaser received the Quaffle from Winnie and shot is past Rothberg's fingers, just out of the Keeper's reach.
"It's a tie once more folks! 80-80! The real question is, has anyone seen the Snitch?" It appeared that the two Seekers hadn't, they were only pinpricks against the sky, like ominous birds of prey. "Beater Weasley has just taken out opponent Wallace Burns, looks like that's going to leave a mark." The Slytherin beater had dropped his bat, clutching his arm, his face contorted in pain as he flew in cirlces towards the ground.
"Go Freddie!" They cheered loudly. Fred high fived his fellow Beater Philip Welch and looped through the air boastfully. Lily laughed.
"Hey, I'll be right back. Bathroom," she said, standing up carefully and tucking her hair behind her ears. She needed to be quick—no way in hell was she missing any more of this match than nature demanded.
She finagled her way through the throngs of people towards the stairway, and with one last at the pitch, she dashed down the stairs, taking them two at a time. The bathroom was past the last landing, and she rounded the last corner—
And stopped dead.
Her heart plummeted into her stomach, and she let out a strangled sound like a wounded cat. Probably not that attractive, but she could barely think straight, much less care.
There in front, leaning up against the stretch of stonewall next to the door to the girls' loo was Owen Carmichael.
Passionately snogging a girl that Lily vaguely recognized as a sixth year from Hufflepuff.
"What—oh," Owen broke away turning to face her. His face blanched when he saw who it was. His face broke into a sheepish smile, recovering from his shocked expression. His shit-you-weren't-supposed-to-see-that face. "Lily—"
Lily liked to think she would've cursed him, made his once seemingly angelic face erupt into acne that resembled the Ring of Fire, or finally used her mother's favored Bat Bogey Hex. It's what Dom would've done, or her mother, or Roxanne. Rose probably would've called him an arse and walked away with dignity. But Lily did none of those things. In reality, she took a step backwards, her breathing shallow, turned her heel and ran.
She didn't want to let the arsehole scummy twat see her cry.
Studying in the library. More like studying up on pretty female anatomy, a hands on activity.
"Tonight's going to be a blast," Roxanne declared with a flourish, twirling her scarlet scarf around as she pranced down the hall. It had been a close game, the final score only a twenty point difference, which in Quidditch was very close. But Gryffindor had won—thankfully.
"Of course," Rose said, rolling her eyes slightly at her cousin's excitement. There would be another party, and Roxanne would get drunk, Dom would dance on tables and hook up with someone. James would shag a girl, and Al most likely would too. If Scorp came, his night undoubtedly would end the same way. Rose would dance with Kevin, flirting carefully, dancing the line between casual interest and really liking.
Did she like Kevin? She wasn't sure. He was sweet and gentlemanly, and definitely a really good friend regardless. She didn't get the opportunity to ponder the subject further, however.
"Have you seen Lily? She left the match to go to the loo and never came back," Hugo appeared by her side, a look of concern on his face. The relationship between Lily and Hugo was like Al and Rose's—best of friends since birth.
"Dunno. I'll check her dormitory when we go up," Rose offered, shrugging. It was a little unusual because Lily was a Quidditch fanatic like her two older brothers, but not entirely impossible.
"Thanks. She didn't seem upset when she left so Louis and I were confused," Hugo explained, sighing a little. "It was a bloody great match too. Shame she missed the end. Al's catch was spectacular."
"Yeah, it was a Wronski Feint," Louis added enthusiastically. "Viktor Krum was famous for them in Mum's day."
"We know, Lou," Roxanne said impatiently. "Now shoo, we need to go prepare. Beauty takes time." She snatched Rose's hand and pulled her ahead, quickening their pace back to the Gryffindor Tower.
The common room was a flurry of activity. James and Fred were directing people to arrange the plushy sofas and chairs off to the side, conjuring tables and glasses. It was amazing, how seasoned they were at pulling of these ragers. The tables were empty now, but Rose knew for a fact that before long they would be stocked with Honeydukes sweets and alcohol. Where they came from and how they were acquired was forever a mystery to anyone but Fred and James. Sometimes Rose thought she was better off not knowing, as a prefect.
"Scuse me," Roxanne sang sweetly, and she pushed through a few fourth year boys whose faces were painted Gryffindor colors.
Rose tugged free as they stopped on the fourth landing. "Cmon," Roxanne whined, but Rose shushed her.
"I'm just checking on Lily, relax," she assured her cousin, gently knocking on the door. No reply. She turned the knob and peeked inside.
The dormitory was seemingly deserted, but Lily's favorite pair of winter boots, a pair of tan and brown duck boots with checkered lining, were discarded at the foot of a twin bed. Lily strained her ears to listen as she stepped inside. "Lils?" she asked. "Lily, Hugo and Louis are wondering where you are."
A sniffle. Rose passed her little cousin's bed and peeked into the window seat tucked beside it.
Lily's knees were drawn up to her chest, her hair disheveled. The green eyes she'd inherited from her father were rimmed red.
"Roxanne!" Rose yelled, a wave of protectiveness sweeping over her. "Found her!"
"Is she alright? We have to get ready, and you know Hugo freaks out when they're apart for more than an hour," Roxanne remarked, stepping inside the dorm. She stopped when she saw Rose's face, her eyebrows arched quizzically.
Rose nodded towards the alcove, her mouth in a thin line.
Roxanne nodded and came towards them. Rose sat down next to Lily, taking in the girl's sullen attitude. "What happened?"
Lily hiccupped and sighed. "Owen Carmichael is an arse," she muttered, barely loud enough for Rose to hear.
"What?" Roxanne asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
"I said, Owen Carmichael is an arse. Actually, he's worse than that. He's a cheating bit of scum, the pisshead." Lily ranted, swearing colorfully.
"You know, you're lucky we're not Al or James. They'd tell you to wash our your mouth," Roxanne commented.
"Tossers, the lot of them," Lily said in response.
"So Carmichael cheated on you?" Rose interrupted, bringing her back to the matter at hand.
"Well, I dunno if it even counts since we weren't technically dating. But he was snogging a sixth year in Hufflepuff like his life depended on it near the loo during the match. When he was supposedly supposed to be studying in the library."
"Pisshead indeed," Roxanne agreed.
"And I just walked away," Lily moaned, leaning back against the stone wall and casting her gaze at the ceiling. "I should've hexed him. But I couldn't. I just wanted to cry. So I walked away."
"Hey, you retained your pride and didn't get a detention. Not necessarily what would've happened if I had been you, but that's not a bad thing," Roxanne assured her.
"Lily, you can hex him anytime you want. You can send him a Howler. You can prank him. Godric knows he'll get hell for messing with Al and James's little sister when they find out," Rose told her soothingly. "He's just a boy and boys are stupid sometimes. Actually, a lot of the time. Carmichael isn't worth it. There's a party tonight, and I know James and Al don't like it when you get into ragers, but you're fourteen. We can get Dom to do you up and you can find a cute boy to dance with or have fun with Louis and Hugo and forget all about the arse."
Lily hiccupped again and sighed. "I suppose. I just really liked him. He was the first boy that took me on a date."
"At least you didn't date the toerag," Roxanne offered. "Dating is overrated. And so is romance. You just gotta be you and have fun."
"I suppose," Lily agreed slowly, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear and straightening out. "I could use some fun."
"Or a shot of firewhiskey," Roxanne offered.
"Roxy!" Rose scoffed, shooting her best friend a warning look. "James and Al would kill us. No shots. Or alcohol in general. It's enough that she's even accompanying us to the party."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Roxanne laughed. "Now cmon, Lily Luna, we have some primping to do."
James Potter was in his element.
The party had barely begun, and though he was only halfway through his first drink, he felt perfect. The thing about parties, he reckoned, was that everyone was usually so bent on letting loose and getting drunk, that the psychological weight on his shoulders seemed to lessens lightly. It was more bearable.
"Jamie!" Dom hollered, appearing in the doorway that led to the stairwell up to the girls dormitory, trailed by Samara, Anna, and a very out of her element looking Alice. Haleigh Bones had already arrived, and now she was dancing with a guy in their year from Ravenclaw. Dom was traipsing towards him in sky high black leather boots, purple high waisted hot pants, and a cropped black velvet short sleeved shirt. Safe to say, the majority of her skin was on display, and the majority of the guys in the room were taking notice.
"Jamie," she repeated lovingly, grinning manically. She tossed and arm around his neck and hugged him. Underneath her heady perfume, James could smell the cigarette smoke clinging to her, like a second skin. "We told you that you could beat Slytherin's asses one day. Course, you might play them again in the championship, but regardless." She drew back and plucked his drink away from him before downing it in a single gulp.
"Dom," he said, taking her arm. "Dom, you're alright, aren't you?"
She looked at him, her face blank and void of emotion for a split second before she rolled her blue eyes dismissively. "Cuz, of course I'm alright. When am I not?" She grinned again, pressed his empty cup back into his hand before waltzing off to flirt with the lucky guy of the night. James pushed back the concern. Dom and him had always been close, not as close as he and Fred were, but still. Dom was the wild card, and he knew that she smoked when she got upset. Lately, it seemed, she was smoking more than usual.
Dom can take care of herself, James reminded himself. She'd chop your balls off if you suggested differently anyway. He discarded his drink, exchanging the cocktail of cranberry juice and tequila for something stronger. Just as he was about to take a sip, his eyes raked over Anna Wood. She was wearing a red strapless bandage dress, and it was leaving next to nothing left to James's imagination, the way the fabric cocooned her frame. Her dark hair was loose and soft looking under the light and it rippled as she tossed her head back in laughter.
Laughter, it seemed, at something that Philip Welch had said. James felt something contract in his stomach, and he took a quick gulp of his drink before slipping through the crowd to reach her.
"Potter, mate," Welch called, clapping James on the back. "Wood and I were just having a chat about the match. Crushed, them, didn't we?"
"We did," James told him, his tone not matching the enthusiasm of his teammate's. Anna was looking away pointedly, her face cool and detached.
"Wood scored that amazing goal. I never doubted that you would score. Rothberg was ripshit. Fingertips away," Welch continued, holding up his index finger and thumb in demonstration.
"Thanks for your confidence," Wood smiled suddenly her lips quirking up at the corners. The red lipstick matched her dress perfectly, James realized. She bit her lip, absentmindedly swirling around her contents of her glass, and James felt his muscles tighten. Godric, how had he never realized how fit she was? How her cool attitude and snarky remarks were actually dead sexy and not frustrating as hell?
"Anytime, Wood. Anytime," Welch replied, raising his glass towards her. James didn't neglect to notice how his eyes surveyed Wood's body before he nodded in salute and excused himself. Anna's eyes followed him; she seemed almost determined not to look at James.
"Can we talk?" He asked casually, smirking. Though he had flirted and shagged more girls than he could count on his hands and feet, Anna Wood felt like foreign territory. Were they even flirting really? Fuck, he could barely think straight. Why did everything seem so hard with her.
"Yeah, whatever," she answered, sipping her drink before putting it down and crossing her arms over her chest. "Well?"
James resisted the urge to frown. Her dark eyes were cold, and he couldn't tell what she was thinking. Not that he ever really could. Girls were easy to read, but Anna Wood was the exception to everything it seemed.
"I was thinking somewhere a little quieter. Unless you'd rather dance?" he suggested, flicking his gaze towards the center of the common room. Samara was grinding on Fred, Al had finally stopped talking to the new American girl and instead was dancing with another girl, and Dom was taking body shots off of Lysander.
"I think I'll pass on the dancing, Potter," she stated tartly, tossing back her drink. She turned and without a word began weaving her way through the throng of students towards the portrait hole. James followed her.
The corridor was dark, it was nearly nine, which was early, but also was only an hour away from curfew. Anna waited until she was a good five feet away before turning to face him again. "Now what do you want?"
"What do you mean, what do I want?" James retorted, probably sounding more cocky than he'd intended.
"You said you wanted to talk. So talk," she pursed her lips, her voice flat.
"Well first off, you could tell me why you're so pissed off, and why you're talking to Welch," he offered, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
"Oh my God. You're fucking ridiculous. This is ridiculous. The fact that I thought maybe we could be actual friends, that we could—" she exploded, and then stopped short and taking a breath. "You're an arse, James Potter. Where were you last night, exactly?"
"I don't get why that's relevant," he countered, cocking his head to one side. He had been in bed with Jasmine, but he knew that it probably wasn't the best thing to mention.
"It's relevant, you cocky bastard, because while you were fucking Jasmine Reichs brains out, I was sitting in the library. Trying to do Transfiguration homework," she snapped, her voice rising, chest heaving. She paced back and forth, her dark hair whipping around her face when she pivoted.
In the library on a Friday night after practice?
Fuck. She was right. He was a prick.
He had told her he'd meet her there after practice ended. Promised to help her with her essay. She'd given him a chance to prove that he wasn't who she accused him of being. But he'd proven that he was just that.
"No," he muttered. "Anna—"
"I don't want to hear your excuses. I'm not interested. You told me you would help me, and I believed you. I waited in the library for two hours. Two hours. One hundred and twenty minutes. Like a bloody idiot," she fumed. "And you never showed. I didn't even ask for you to help me. You offered. And you still didn't make it a priority. You don't have any priorities, except yourself."
"Anna," he tried again, but she silenced him with a glare.
"Look, Potter," she told him, every word spoken like a curse. She stepped closer so there was barely a foot between them. "You might be one of the fittest blokes in our year, but that doesn't mean that since I'm a girl I have to like you. And the fact that you blew me off, when I didn't really like you that much in the first place makes you ten times worse. It wasn't even a date! And the moment some girl batted her eyelashes at you, you forgot all about me and my Transfiguration grade. All you thought about was yourself and your next conquest. And for the record, you have horrible taste. Jasmine Reichs isn't much better than Trinity West."
James just stared at her. She stood there, meeting his eyes fully for the first time that night, and stared back. She was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and she was angry as hell and most likely wanted to curse him.
"Say something," she demanded, her voice rising. "Say something."
"Anna," he told her, daring to inch closer. She tilted her head up slightly, her eyes still chips of black ice.
James closed the space between them, cupping her face in his hands gently and kissing her. It was light, barely a brush of their lips against one another, before he pulled back.
She opened her eyes and looked at him again.
Then, she slapped him.
The blow was hard, but not enough to send him reeling or anything like that. His left side of his face stung, and he touched it, not daring to take his eyes off her.
"Bastard," she swore, before rising up and kissing him again. It was nothing like the gentle one from before; it was hot and hungry and most of all, angry. Her hands raked through his black hair, nails scraping his scalp, while James's moved down to her waist to press her up against him.
"I hate you," she managed in between kissing. "Potter."
There was nothing in the world that turned him on more than the sound of his name out of her mouth, James decided.
So that took awhile, but it was a loooooong chapter. I needed to get the whole Lily/Owen thing out of the way, and then I couldn't put off the James/Anna confrontation, because that whole dynamic needs to move forward. Next time I'm going to brush up on Roxanne and Niall, and Dom's perspective. And either Scorpius's or Al's… I'm still debating. Anyway thanks for reading, please review!
Xoxo-NotsoSugarQueen
