"Well, good morning," Meg's voice rings out as I sneak back into my room the next morning.

"Shut up,"

"This is just so unexpected," She shakes her head as I glare at her. "Where could you have been all night?"

"Megan!"

"Ohh full name!" She's beaming as she sits at the edge of the bed. "Tell me everything. Is he good? Everyone says so. I've never really wanted to try myself, but I've always been so curious..." She trails off.

"Nothing happened," I hiss.

She looks at me skeptically. "Nothing?"

"We fell asleep!"

Now it's disappointment in her eyes. "Nothing?"

"Nothing!"

She huffs, annoyed. "Well, that's not interesting!"

"Well we're taking things slow! We didn't-"

She squeals in excitement. "Oh, I knew it!"

"Can we like, curb the excitement? You're showing far more enthusiasm about this than I am,"

"That would be typical for just about everything that's not Quidditch or numbers," Meg laughs. "But fine, I promise to be a normal level of excited and will take minimal pictures of your first date to document in the scrapbook,"

I examine her skeptically, before giving up and reaching for a pair of clean leggings. It's the best I'll get from her. "Thank you,"

"You know for you, taking things slow, is practically a boyfriend," She muses.

I hesitate. "Eh, let's not use that word,"

"You are actually hopeless,"

If you've never been to the Professional Quidditch Hall of Fame before, I highly recommend the trip. My own personal biases aside, there's something for everyone. It's fun and interactive, each room of the museum themed to capture a different part of Quidditch history.

Dad's induction was not the first time our family has been to the museum. Besides attending other inductions, it'd been a spot Dad and Uncle Justin had taken me to visit often as a child.

I've quite literally been lost in the Quidditch Timeline room, which travels through the whole evolution of Quidditch, from its original start on Queerditch Marsh and early broom games to its current happenings. There's a wildly embarrassing picture of me floating around somewhere in one of our houses, circa 2007, wearing a tutu and holding a toy broom standing in front of the Puddlemere section in the Locker Room area.

Inductions and ceremonies at the Hall of Fame take place in the Grand Atrium. It's always decked out for the occasion and tonight is no exception. The stage is set, the chairs are arranged, and all around, everything in the room looks ready for a party where the guest list features Quidditch greats, current players, and team staff, as well as a select few supporters (you've got to be pretty keyed in to get this ticket).

Backstage, my family waits with the three other nominees and their loved ones. Alicia keeps nervously smoothing Colton's hair and Parker's tugging at his tie, but Dad's calm as can be as we wait to be ushered on stage to our seats.

Uncle Justin's standing on the opposite side as we enter, all set to give Dad's introduction speech. He winks at me as we pass and brings his hand up to his forehead, thumb and index finger in the shape of an "L."

Before I can even think about it, my own hand comes up to my forehead; thumb and index finger making the "L" and middle finger pointing straight ahead, bringing the gesture just one leap further. He laughs.

Naturally, that's when the camera clicks and the flash goes off.

That'll be a winner.

Alphabetically, Wood is the last in tonight's cohort, which means we wait as short speeches are made about Paolo Cueva, Cyle Hutchinson, and Igor Smolov before Uncle Justin makes his way to the podium.

"I consider myself pretty lucky," He starts. "Because it's not everybody who gets to do what they love as a job with their best friend. But my best friend is that guy, right over there," He points at Dad and it gets him a chuckle from the audience. "And we spent most of our lives playing the best damn game in the world, as a career," A wild cheer.

He continues, once it settles. "Oliver is everything you could want out of teammate, a Quidditch player, and a Captain. He continues to embody those values today. I'm proud to call him a boss, I was proud to call him a teammate, but I'm most proud to call him a friend."

Alicia's crying as Dad walks over to him and they break out the old bro-hug, the one they'd done after very game when they were still playing. It gets another cheer and more cameras flash.

Then Cueva, Hutchinson, and Smolov are standing with Dad and suddenly, "Ladies and gentleman, I present, the 2022 Class of Professional Quidditch Hall of Fame Inductees," and then we're all standing, clapping along with the crowd. There's whistling and cheering as we're allowed to join Dad in line and he's got one arm around Alicia and the other around me as I tug Erin forward.

"Whoa!" She's beaming, looking around as confetti falls. "This is the coolest!"

It's not quite a Quidditch Cup win, but it's damn near close. "It's-yeah," I'm actually speechless at this moment, watching Dad and everything he's worked for come together in this moment. "Yeah," I repeat, settling for pulling her closer and looking around more.

"Did I see you give finger guns to Viktor Krum earlier tonight?" Scorpius asks as I approach.

He's standing with two people that are clearly his parents (Merlin, is he the spitting image of his father) and they're surrounded by members of the Weasley family (Granger-Weasley edition) and the main reason I'd come over here, the Potter's.

James stands next to his dad, bringing attention to just how much they look alike, looking absolutely incredible in his No-Maj suit. In fact, all the men are pulling off the No-Maj look tonight, including the Malfoy's, and I thank God, Merlin, Dumbledore, and anyone else that dress robes are currently out of style. James is rocking this suit and the view is much better than any robe could have provided. Whatever workouts he's doing outside of practice is doing those arms good.

But to Scorpius' question. "Finger guns are the least embarrassing hand gesture I've made tonight,"

"Double finger guns!" He cries, sounding like it's Christmas morning and he's opening the gift he's been begging for.

"Oh, just wait," I tell him. "You won't be disappointed,"

"What did you do?" James asks suspiciously.

"Honestly, if you didn't see it, I don't want you to," He only grins mischievously in response.

"That's not a great sign for you, Carson," Ginny warns.

I smile back at him and find him slightly smirking at me as he meets my eyes. "I can handle him,"

Albus snickers. "She certainly does at school,"

That earns him glares from both James and I, but unfortunately for all of us, brings up the least favorite subject for any student. "Speaking of school, Neville said that you'll all be doing Career Meetings after holidays." Ginny smiles. "Are you excited?"

"No," Albus, Scorpius, and I all respond flatly while James merely shrugs.

"Finally!" Rose says simultaneously.

Almost everyone stares at her. "You are your mother's daughter," Ron says.

"And what's wrong with that?" Hermione asks.

"Absolutely nothing," He covers and the rest of us utterly ignore him as he continues to grovel.

"Any ideas what you want to do?" Ginny asks.

"I'm thinking a Healer," Rose says immediately. "Or maybe something in Law,"

"Why not choose something a little harder?" Scorpius asks wryly. "Supreme Mugwump, Head of the Department of Mysteries?"

"Quidditch," James answers, once the laughter subsides. "If that doesn't work, maybe an Auror? Something that's not going to bore me," I fight back a laugh. That's just about the most James answer I've ever heard.

It's clear from Ginny's eye roll that she agrees. "Carson, what about you? Any thoughts?"

I shrug. Truthfully, no, I had no thoughts. Possibly something in banking to continue using my favorite subject, Arithmancy? A future career was always something I'd pushed off until just that-the future. Only now it was creeping up on me quickly. "I'm going to live off Dad's money and be a traveling food critic,"

"Well at least you have a plan," She shoots Albus a look.

"I'm only fifteen!" He whines.

"No time like the present," She smiles brightly.

"Just pick something," Ron tells him. "You can always change it. I moved from the Auror office to George's shop and it's great,"

"Yeah, it's not like it's permanent, like a marriage-oh wait!" James and his dad both laugh and Ginny fights back a grin as I address Albus. "Nope, you're good on that too,"

"All I'm hearing is that I can pretty much do whatever I want and there are no consequences," Al says.

"Now you're getting it!" James beams.

Ginny reaches out and cuffs him on the back of the head. "James!"

"Gin," Harry laughs. "It was a joke," She rounds on him. "But, this was a serious conversation, now, so-" He cuts off with a groan, knowing what he walked into.

James is still grinning. "Of course, it's as serious as-"

This time, I cut him off, knowing exactly where that sentence was headed. "Oh, look, my drink is empty. Think I'm going to head over to the bar,"

"Thank Merlin," Al mutters, looking grateful we weren't about to get another serious pun.

"I'll come with you," James says.

"I was impressed," Harry nods at him. "Your drink was empty for far longer than I'd expected it to ever be at something offering free drinks,"

He shrugs. "Line at the bar was really long when I finished it,"

"That makes more sense,"

It's surprisingly not awkward-not even a little-being alone with James.

I'd expected worse, at least until we found a groove. Instead he'd shown up for Taco Tuesday earlier in the week and things had been almost...normal? We'd gone to try a new spot, still not settled on any particular one here in London, and ordered food and drinks, as usual. We still laughed and teased and joked just like it was a typical Tuesday.

In fact, the only difference from any of the previous nights had been the soft kiss he bestowed upon me before Apparating away.

Perhaps it said more about me that I didn't notice a difference, but I was unwilling to examine at such a deep level of introspection again. I'd had quite enough of that already this week.

Besides, it didn't matter anymore.

We'd collected our drinks from the bartender and moved quickly away, but instead of merging in with the crowd, we'd ducked off to the side, sneaking off for a private tour of the exhibits.

Which sounds so much more scandalous than it actually is, considering we're laughing and giggling as we point out our favorite players and parts of the museum.

We're such dorks.

We spend a long time in the World Cup room, trading stories about our different experiences (we'd both, it turned out, been to the same ones, but never crossed paths), and then he has to drag me out of the Women in Quidditch room and away from the pair of his Mom's gloves that's encased, after I start poking him repeatedly when I don't think his version of the story about the game she played as a lone Chaser and scored every one of the Harpies goals to secure their playoff berth once the other two were knocked out by Bludgers in the first minute is up to standard.

"If you think you can tell it better," He huffs.

"I could tell one of my parent's Quidditch stories better,"

"Go on then, tell the Wilda Griffiths riot," He challenges.

I immediately launch into the tale, which, frankly, was a poor choice on his part. The story of the disappearance of Griffiths and the subsequent riot between Puddlemere and Harpies fans was an old favorite of my dad and Uncle Justin; in fact, I'm certain at some point, they'd used it as a bedtime story.

"-and so Joscelind was going after the-"

Except then his lips are moving against mine and instead of finishing about how she's attacking Holyhead's Keeper with a right hook, I'm returning the kiss. "Thank Merlin," James mutters, when he pulls away, forehead still resting against mine. "I've finally found a way to shut you up,"

"Goes both ways," I warn.

"I can live with that,"

Yeah, I figured he could.

James presses forward again, closing the small gap between us. As his hand anchors in the back of my hair, I loop my arms around the back of his neck, pulling myself closer to him to deepen the kiss.

James' arm wraps around my waist as he backs us up a few steps and then I feel cool wall against my skin, where the open back of the dress doesn't cover. The shiver up my spine can only be half explained by the wall.

The longer we stand there kissing, the more I think I don't ever want to stop. He presses kisses down my jaw as I move my hands down his shoulders, feeling the muscles jump under my fingers as they move lower.

James reaches a sensitive spot on my neck and I gasp, letting out another shaky breath as he works that same spot a little. "Stop!" I whine, lifting his head off my neck.

He grins down at me. "If you insist,"

"I do," I pout and he kisses it off of me, and we're right back into things; kissing in the empty hall of the Quidditch Hall of Fame with hands moving everywhere and constant attempts to move closer than we already are.

"Now what do we think Dad would think of his little girl with a boy in the hall tonight of all nights?"

Coming Soon: Meg and Tim meet again, Hogwarts gossip, Carson is definitely missing something.