Full Summary: Their story was incredibly cliche. The studious, sarcastic Abigail King is teamed up with the arrogant, trouble-making James Sirius Potter, who has always been her enemy, to be Head Boy and Girl of Hogwarts. But neither is happy. James is constantly fighting the image of his heroic parents, while Abigail struggles with the painful reality of her family's situation and past. The more time James and Abigail spend together, the harder they have to try to hate each other. They can't quite understand why they seem to know the other more than anyone, helping each other through the rough times they face. But in the end, it's really quite simple. Hate can turn into love easily, and James and Abigail are about to understand this twisted logic.

Disclaimer: The characters of Harry Potter are owned by J.K. Rowling. The content and ideas of this story are owned by peace. love. randomness - peacelovebooksx107 and randomrayyxx3 respectively. The song "Square One" belongs to the band Coldplay.

Chapter Ten: Square One

"You just want somebody listening to what you say… It doesn't matter who you are."

Abigail Evelyn King

It was black.

I could only see black. If it was possible to feel black, I felt it. I also felt a painful throbbing on my head. After I noticed I could feel this, I realized I was actually awake. I just needed to muster up the strength to open my eyes. I fluttered them open quickly, but then shut them again after being blinded by the brightness of whatever room I was in. Bracing myself this time. I opened my eyes, sat up, and took in my surroundings.

The room was set up exactly like my bedroom with a wardrobe in the corner, a mirror on the wall, and a small desk against the wall. There were hardly any decorations on the wall, making the room seem incredibly bare compared to my Holyhead Harpies and photograph covered walls. I suddenly noticed that I was sitting on the bed. But I was still very confused as to where I was…until something caught my eye that cleared it all up.

In the corner of the room opposite of where the wardrobe was sat James Potter, on the ground with his knees up towards the ceiling and his arms crossed over his chest. His head was tilted back against the wall, but his eyes were focused on me. It reminded me vaguely of how he had looked during our fight in the common room. Except then he looked incredibly angry…and now he looked tired, and somewhat worried. So, yes. This is what made the truth dawn on me.

Dear Merlin. I was in James Potters' bedroom.

I had to refrain from letting out a snort. I realized how many girls in Hogwarts would kill to be in my position right now.

I sat up a bit more, criss-crossing my legs and resting my head in my palm as my arm rested on my thigh. My head was still throbbing like crazy and it felt heavy and fuzzy.

"Well," I rasped out, and I noticed my sore throat had gotten worse. "Never thought I'd see the day that I'd be in James Potter's bed."

I let out a coughing laugh, and Potter tried to do the same, but the concern in his eyes prevented any humor from showing in his laughter.

He suddenly stood from his position on the floor and walked over to me, perching himself on the side of the bed. This put us in a close proximity, but not enough to make it uncomfortable.

Potter let out a sigh and ran his hand through his hair, something I had seen him do so many times before. "King…" he shook his head. "Why didn't you tell me you were sick?"

I was anticipating quite a few things for James Potter to say to me. For example: some yelling about our fight, some yelling about missing the Prefects' meeting, telling me to get the hell out of his bed, etc. So, it can't come as a surprise that I was incredibly shocked by the concern that shown through his words.

I rolled my eyes, though. "Honestly, Potter, we hadn't spoken for days. Do you think I was going to waltz up to you to say, 'Hello! I know you honestly hate me right now, but I felt the need to inform that my immune system is lacking. Thank you very much?'"

His muddy brown eyes rolled in return. "I guess you have a point there."

I nodded in agreement, but stopped.

I was in James Potter's bed.

And I didn't know how I got there.

How did this not occur to me when I woke up?

"Ummm…" I began. "I kind of…don't remember what happened at all. The last thing I remember is being in Neville's office and you…" I trailed off, not wanting to relive the anger that spurred inside me when he called me perfect.

The concern that had faded slightly from Potter's eyes was reignited. I, quite frankly, did not understand this nonsense. I mean, the man was supposed to hate me for Merlin's sake. What was with the care and concern?

However, it was refreshing…if that makes sense. A part of me - a larger part of me than I'd like to admit - liked being on good terms with Potter. I felt as if it wouldn't last, considering we bickered constantly, but I rather liked the friendliness while it lasted.

"Well…" Potter's voice broke me from my thoughts. "You kind of fainted. We were in Neville's office, like you said, and I called you…well you know... and you got really angry and I guess being so worked up along with you being ill kind of…sent you over the edge."

I groaned as I remembered. "No wonder my head hurts," I said. "It's not every day you face plant into the floor."

Potter smiled faintly at this. "Well, actually, I caught you. You didn't hit your head on anything. You probably just have a fever."

Ooooohhh…I thought, but then realized I had said it stupidly out loud, causing Potter to chuckle at me.

"Anyway," he continued, amused by me antics. "I carried you back to the dorm. And here we are now," he finished, gesturing around us.

I raised an eyebrow. "Hold on. Why am I in your room? On your bed?" I asked him.

"Hey," he said in a jokingly serious tone. "You realize how many girls would kill to be you right now?"

I rolled my eyes and snorted at this, thinking about how I had thought that before.

"Actually, you're in here because of that nifty little charm you have on your bedroom door." He raised an eyebrow at me.

Right. I had put a protective charm on my door so only I could enter my room, or grant others the permission. The only people I had granted permission were Molly, Morgan, and Dom. I loved having the privacy of a bedroom, and I didn't want Potter spoiling it. And after Fred, the ultimate prankster, started to have access to our dorm, I had to take some precautions.

"Ah, that's right…" I knew I had a smug look on my face because of my brilliance, causing Potter to roll his eyes at me.

"Hey, be thankful, I've been trying to sleep on the ground all night. It hasn't worked to well," he told me with a grimace, obviously thinking over the uncomfortable night he'd had on the ground.

I grimaced too. "Sorry," I told him.

He just shrugged. "S'alright."

We fell into a long silence after that until he broke it very suddenly.

"I... I hate my reputation, you know."

Whaaaatttt?

"Everyone always thinks I savor the spotlight. Star quidditch player. Head Boy. Son of the heroic Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley. Practically top of the class. They all think I love it. When, really, it's the reason I dread coming back to school."

He shook his head repeatedly. It seemed like he was either struggling to get the words out, or struggling to keep them in. I couldn't tell which, though.

"I just wish…" He sighed and ran a hand through his unruly hair. "I want people to realize that what I do and who my family is doesn't make me perfect. When you called me perfect, you just wanted me to know that people thought that about me. I just want people to see me as James Potter. A kid." He laughed at himself a little. "It sounds incredibly stupid, I know."

I shook my head at this. "No, it doesn't." He just shrugged. "Potter, I really had no idea…I mean I just thought –"

"That it's what I wanted right? That I loved the lifestyle?" He asked me accusingly, but not scathingly.

I sighed. "Yes, I suppose."

"Yeah, well I don't." His fingers picked at a loose string pulled from the quilt that was laying over my legs. "I guess I'm just telling you this because…if it's nearly impossible for everyone to understand - which I know it is – I might as well start somewhere, yeah?"

I looked at the somewhat vulnerable boy sitting before me, his eyes focused on his fingers' petty task. "I'm sorry I had to be a part of it. That I judged you."

He looked up at me, brown meeting grey eyes. "Yeah, me too." At my confused stare, he continued. "I did to you what everyone has always done to me. Accusing you of being this image of perfect when I really have no idea what your life is like outside of being Head Girl." He looked like this apology was somewhat difficult for him. But I could relate.

I had tensed slightly when he mentioned the area of me being perfect, and I knew I sounded cold in my reply. "You're right. You have no idea."

Another silence fell, but I was the one to break it this time.

"And don't expect me to go spilling me life story of why I'm not perfect. It's not what I signed up for when I woke up." There was no way I was going to go and tell James Potter - of all people - the truth about my parents. Dom, Morgan, and Molly didn't even know my entire home situation. I wasn't telling anyone anytime soon.

"I'm not expecting anything from you," Potter told me in reply. "But I didn't spill all of this to issue some sort of white flag between us. I just wanted to tell someone."

And that someone just happens to be me.

It was a thought that I pondered on quite a lot after Potter and I had this conversation. Why Potter told me this instead of his best mates, I wasn't exactly sure. We had never been friends. Hell, we had a hard time being the least bit friendly. So it shocked me that Potter was willing to open up this huge part of his life to me. Maybe, as a guy, he didn't realize what he had done and what it had meant. But I was a girl, and I did realize it. And I was flattered. Despite the fact that it was not said to make us friends, closer to being friends, or anything of the sort, he had still told me.

And that had to mean something, right? But what exactly did I want it to mean?

That question seemed to haunt me for the remainder of the day. Eventually I had moved into my own bedroom. I moved slowly but surely into my room, refusing Potter's offers to help. My pride had to remain intact. He stayed by his bedroom door, accepting my decision, but watching with cautious eyes.

Madam Burke, the Hospital Wing nurse, came to see me soon after Potter left, diagnosing me with a "small bout of pneumonia." She chided me for not seeing her when I first noticed my symptoms and forbade me from leaving my bed all day except for meals. She claimed it would probably be easier to recover in my own room rather than the dreary Hospital Wing.

"Now get some breakfast in you, deary. You cannot recover on an empty stomach," she said, clapping her hands twice. I smiled and willed myself out of bed, knowing Madam Burke would force feed me if I didn't do what she said.

I didn't even have time to change out of my sweatpants and jumper before she was shuffling me out the door. She walked in the opposite direction, calling after her, "Make sure to drink orange juice, Ms. King!"

I looked down sadly at my attire, realizing I could not go back to change or I would miss breakfast. Maybe no one would notice. I sighed and started to the Great Hall.

The second I walked up to my table, Dom gasped. "Abigail, what in Merlin's name are you wearing?"

If I had wanted to make a modest entrance, Dom just ruined that. Now I had seven pairs of eyes of our friends trained on me. Including a nice pair of brown ones with gold speckles that I was too embarrassed to look at right now. I was still recovering from recent events mentally, as well as physically. "I didn't have time to change…" I grumbled, slipping onto the bench next to Ryan.

Molly's eyes widened across the table. I noticed with mixed feelings that Potter was sitting right across from me. "What if a boy sees you?"

Molly made shallow statements like this every once and a while. I was used to it by now, but it always annoyed me a bit that it came out of her mouth of all people. I cocked my head to the said, exasperated. "Well if I'm not mistaken, four just have," I said smartly, gesturing to Fred, Ryan, Mitch, and Potter. "Any objections, boys?"

I heard mumbled "no's" from around me, the guys obviously knowing not to get involved with this. Smart lads.

Molly sighed and put a hand to her forehead. "Oh, Merlin, sorry Abigail. I wasn't thinking. Sometimes I just…"

I smiled at my friend, forgiving her instantly. "S'alright, Mol. I'm just kind of tired, short temper and all that."

And just like that, the tension was gone. Our friends went back to talking about random things like this week's Potions assignment and the Quidditch game tomorrow. I silently filled my plate with toast and apple slices, willing my stomach to stay calm at the sight of oatmeal. I ripped off a small piece of toast and chewed it slowly, looking around. Everyone seemed to be talking except for Potter.

This bothered me for some reason and decided to get him talking, remembering Madam Burke's instruction. "Potter, pass me the orange juice, would you?" It was conveniently placed next to him where I could not reach.

He blinked a couple times, apparently coming back to reality. "Yeah, sure." Our friends stopped talking. They were probably shocked by the civil interaction. I couldn't blame them.

But my clever ruse for civility stopped short when he handed me the jug of juice. When I went to put it down, it clipped the side of my plate and spilled. Right onto Potter's plate. The orange liquid drowned his eggs and bacon. A couple of our friends jumped at the action.

"Shit!" I exclaimed, jumping up from my chair to reach for napkins. Potter did the same and I had déjà vu of when the same thing occurred with a jug of cocoa. I knew the fight was coming. "It really was an accident, Potter." I sighed, bracing myself for the storm.

"Don't worry about it."

What? I blinked, dropping my hand. "What?"

He looked up confusedly. I realized this was the first time I looked him in the eye since this morning. "It's fine. I can just get a new plate."

That's when I knew we had hit a milestone. This had never happened before, we were being absolutely civil to each other, and we didn't fight because of some stupid accident. Potter seemed to sense it too because he stopped wiping the table. He seemed to be searching my eyes for something. I felt this funny little twinge in my stomach, and it wasn't the pneumonia.

I broke eye contact to look down at the table, realizing it was clean. I sat down slowly, Potter mimicking my actions. I looked up and saw he was still watching me. I bit my cheek to keep from smiling, but it didn't work. A small smile graced my face.

The corner of Potter's mouth twitched up, and he started to fill a new plate, shaking his head.

I heard Morgan sigh beside me, whispering to Fred, "I believe you owe me fifteen sickles." He groaned.

But I ignored them, not bothering to make sense of their words. Because Potter and I had just started over. But this time, we were kind of friends. Back to square one.

A/N: Pretty short chapter (and only one POV, I realized) but hopefully it will hold all of you over until next week! Thank you all SO MUCH for the great book recommendations! I'll definitely have some good options for when we go to the beach tomorrow! Don't worry, I'll still try to update on Friday! If for some reason you don't get an update then, I'll post it on Saturday when I get home. Again, thanks so much for all the book recommendations!

As always, please write a review and tell us what you think! Maybe we'll hit 50 soon? Until next Friday!