Louis was nowhere to be found once Dominique got back to Gryffindor Tower later that afternoon, and nowhere to be found at dinner either. She thought about what Amalie had mentioned—about how Louis would walk with Javier around the lake—but honestly, he'd been missing all afternoon. How many laps around the lake could he take?

He apparently returned while everyone had been at dinner, because Jack reported seeing him once he'd chanced a glance behind the curtains of Louis' bed. He was apparently snoring and fast asleep. Perhaps a day without his potion to regulate his obsessive thoughts exhausted him?

Dominique knew she could have gone up. She easily could have spent the night in there and waited him out until the morning to speak to him, but she'd already told Jack she was planning on sleeping in her own bed that night. Her reasons had been because he needed the best night's rest possible considering he had the Quidditch Cup the following day, and her sleep was only starting to get more and more restless.

"But I like when you're there," he'd argued as they sat beside each other on the sofa in the common room. He'd finally—finally—put away the playbook and was attempting to focus on something that wasn't Quidditch. She and Sarah had managed to catch him up on all of Sarah's drama with Louis, and they'd also listened to Flynn have a minor panic attack because he was now realizing he was totally unprepared for his N.E.W.T.s. This was on top of him also lamenting about his breakup, which made for quite the busy evening.

"I like it, too," she said, leaning further into him; he had his arm around her and was absently playing with her hair. "But we can afford the night off. You don't need me thrashing around and keeping you up."

"It doesn't bother me," he said, glancing over to where Sarah had taken pity on Flynn in his pathetic state and was attempting to help him understand his Herbology revision.

Dominique shook her head, knowing that Jack didn't mean that. "Fine, then I want to sleep in my own bed tonight. I miss it. We've only got a couple of more weeks, and as much as I enjoy sleeping with you, my bed and I have been sleeping together for seven years. It deserves a few more nights out of me."

He threw her a look. She'd been mostly kidding, of course, but a small part of her was serious. She really did love her bed.

"It's better this way," she offered. "We'll be back at it tomorrow. And if you win the match, I'll make it worth it."

He smiled. "If I win, huh? What happens if I lose?"

"I don't sleep with losers."

He pulled a doubtful face. Even Sarah caught wind of that and reacted, though Dominique could already see exactly what both of them were thinking. They both opened their mouths to presumably counter her, but she beat them to the punch. "Please don't make the obvious Davies' joke."

He closed his mouth.

"If he didn't make it, I was going to," Sarah quipped.

"You," Dominique said, "have no room to talk right now."

Sarah shrugged, as if to say, "fair enough," though Flynn, who was taking every possible opportunity to distract himself, was now looking from Jack to Dominique. "To be fair. Davies and Ravenclaw did win the Quidditch Cup last year, so technically he wasn't a loser—"

Jack was already shaking his head at him, though it was Dominique who said, "Stop talking."

They all retired for the night not long after, and it turned out that Dominique's sleep was the worst it had ever been. She couldn't remember what had happened in her strange, fucked-up dream, but it made her wake drenched in sweat with her heart racing. It was a terrible feeling that forced her to find the box of sleep potions that Louis had always been prescribed. He'd since given them all to her in case things progressed for her, and feeling rather desperate, she took a vial. Until that point, she'd had them stuffed into her bedside table, hoping to never have to use them; after everything she'd just felt, she was desperate for the relief they could hopefully bring.

They had knocked her out cold; the rest of her night had been completely dreamless. While she'd considered that a success, she now understood just how difficult it was to wake up after taking some. She'd learned that the hard way after Sarah had resorted to pouring a glass of ice cold water on her head to finally get her roused the next morning.

"I'm sorry, but it was the only thing that ever worked with your brother when he was that deep asleep," Sarah offered as Dominique sat there soaked and sputtering in her bed. "I know you don't want to miss the match."

"Match," she asked, pushing wet hair out of her face. "What time is it?"

"After ten."

"Seriously?!"

"Nat, Eleanor, and I tried to wake you. We figured you were just really tired, so we went for food and I came back to try again. She reached over and picked up an empty potion vial that had been discarded. "That's when I found this and realized just how out you were. If you're taking Louis' potions now, then things must be getting bad."

"They're not getting better," she muttered, her head feeling groggy and hazy. Everything felt fuzzy and if it was moving slower than normal. But she'd finally got some peaceful sleep; her first in ages. "But Longbottom's got someone coming by this afternoon to talk to me. He set it up."

Sarah looked happy to hear that, though all Dominique could do was observe her wet clothes. She pulled her sopping pajama shirt away from her chest, letting it immediately bounce back against her skin with a thwack.

Dominique needed to take a few extra minutes to wake up;.Sarah told her she needed to catch up with Natalie and some of the others, but that she would save her a seat if she was running behind. She changed into dry clothes, again finding it strange to be wearing scarlet and gold in support of Gryffindor instead of her Quidditch uniform, and was now hoping she could somehow find Jack before the match. She felt rather bad about not wishing him good luck and having their typical pre-match chat.

People were milling around the common room as she walked downstairs, everyone in their scarlet and gold, some with painted faces and markings. Dominique still felt hazy and as if everything was moving in slow motion; wondering how long the effects of this potion would take to wear off fully. She knew it had always taken Louis ages to wake up after taking it, but she never remembered him talking about feeling spacey or fuzzy-headed.

As if on cue, Louis appeared coming down the boys' stairs. He was dressed for the match and looked to be walking with a purpose toward the portrait hole. She sped up to catch him.

"Woah," he said, seemingly startled once he got a look at her. "Are you alright? You look exhausted."

She shrugged. "I took your old sleeping potions last night and I can't seem to wake up."

He didn't seem surprised to hear that. "They can take some getting used to. Did you have a nightmare? Is that why you took it?"

"Do you really think I'm taking them for fun?" she asked as they passed through the portrait hole. "You know how bad the nights can get."

While he did look concerned by that confession, he also looked as if he was out of apologies. Truth be told, she was happy about that. She wasn't sure how many more times she could hear him say he was sorry for causing all of this.

He cleared his throat. "I was only wondering if the night stuff was getting worse." He threw her a look. "Since nothing's getting any better and I wasted a load of time thinking it was."

She sighed. He was clearly still annoyed with her.

They both walked in silence for a moment before he finally looked over at her. "You really should go talk to the Healer I saw growing up so they can make sure the potion is right for you."

"Actually, funny you say that. Someone's coming around school later this afternoon," she said, as they continued toward the stairs. "Longbottom's set it up after him and I talked. I need to go to his office at three to meet them."

"That's good," Louis offered. "It's better to have someone evaluate you and get you set up with the right potions because mine might be all wrong for you."

"Well, it's not only about that," she said. "It's someone who deals with spell damage specifically. As in, learning to live and cope with it. Since it seems things probably won't..." She trailed off. She couldn't quite get the words, 'ever go back to the way things were' out of her mouth.

Louis was nodding. "Yeah, I'm starting to believe that myself. The repairing potion was bullshit. We haven't heard anything from anyone since we've gotten back to Hogwarts. DiSilva left us high and dry. No one's done anything. I'm starting to accept this as my new normal."

Dominique slowed down, causing Louis to turn and see why. "Then you should come, too."

"Come where?"

"To speak to the Healer with me. Talk about how your spell damage is affecting you."

He laughed at that. "No. I'm doing fine. Things are better. I sleep well. I don't have to take any potions anymore. I'm nowhere near as stressed. I don't care about most of the shit I used to. I barely even notice your memories anymore. I can bounce them out of my head easily. My life's gotten easier."

She didn't believe that. That was to say, she believed all the things he was saying were true, she simply refused to believe it wasn't affecting him worse than he claimed. Also, he wasn't taking into account the spell damage he wasn't aware of.

"But when you say you don't care as much, that includes things like school. You don't even want to take your exams."

"Why do you care so much that I'm not sitting my exams?" he snapped.

"And you're definitely more irritable," she added as an afterthought, "which is not only affecting you, but the people who have to deal with you—"

"Well, now you know how the rest of us felt for the last eighteen years," he laughed, clearly insinuating he'd picked that part up from her. "And it's less that I'm irritable, but that my fuse for bullshit just got shorter. When you realize there is more to life than being perfect and living up to everyone's ridiculous expectations, you stop caring about what everyone thinks."

She made a face. Was he seriously lecturing her on now caring about what people thought? She'd written the book on that.

"You," he continued, "You I understand you needing to see someone."

She raised her eyebrow at him.

"Because all of that anxiety you're carrying around is shit," he immediately added. "I lived with it for years, I get it. You definitely need to talk to someone. But I'm fine."

"Lou," she said slowly. "Can you honestly say you've noticed nothing different outside of—reading slower? Comprehending less? Seriously? You may not see it, but things have changed."

"And I'm telling you that those changes are a good thing. They've allowed me more freedom and less restrictions." He stepped ahead of her. "You deal with yourself the way you want to and I'll deal the way I want to. I'm not hurting anyone, so who fucking cares?"

She rolled her eyes. Her potion must have been wearing off and clearing her head because she was now suddenly remembering why she'd wanted to track him down yesterday. Everything Sarah had told was coming flooding back, and she now had his undivided attention to address it.

"You really don't think you're hurting people?"

He swung back around. "Who am I hurting?"

"For starters, Sarah," she said, watching as his face took on a very hard quality all of the sudden. "I heard everything."

"She's lying."

"Why would she lie?"

He said nothing to that; he just stared.

"And it's not even the hooking up that's the part I take issue with," she said. "It's the part where you're telling her you're still in love with her—"

"I never said that! I wouldn't ever say that because I don't love her. The only person I love is—!"

"NO!" she shouted, cutting him off before he could say Amalie's name and send himself further into one of his spell induced tailspins. "No, you don't!

His expression was now rather baffled. She could practically hear the words, 'How dare you' staring out from behind his eyes. "Yes, I do!"

"No, you…" She heaved a heavy sigh. She knew she shouldn't. She shouldn't say it because he wouldn't understand, but she'd already gone halfway. May as well get it off her chest.

"If you're sooo in love with her, then why did what happened with Sarah happen after the ball?"

He'd looked—briefly— as though he'd had an answer to shout straight back at her, but the look faltered. He even blinked rather strangely. "I...I made a mistake."

"But this is what I'm talking about, Lou," she said, trying to steer this back toward spell damage he could understand. "You would have never done something like that before. Not all of these changes are good! This is completely unlike you!"

He shook his head. "No. This has nothing to do with..."

"You've got more damage than you know."

"I do not, I'm…"

"You came back from Durmstrang with spell damage," she said, not caring if he didn't understand. "You already had some before you even went to France."

He pulled a complete and utter face, as if he'd never head something so stupid. "No, I didn't!" he spat. "What are you on about? I came back from Durmstrang with physical damage, not—"

"When did you fall in love with Amalie?"

There was the fucking smile. It creeped her out. "At Durmstrang."

"When?" she asked, "because I'm not seeing it, Lou. Nothing is in your memories. Absolutely nothing. Zara claims she never saw it, Javier never saw it, no one—"

"Because why would they? It was none of their business!"

"Then tell me when it happened," she said. "Tell me exactly when you knew she was the one for you."

He took an exasperated sigh, but looked as if he was attempting to answer the question. He was apparently searching the back part of his brain, but still coming up empty handed. "I don't...I just did. I don't have to explain myself to you. It just happened."

"It just happened?" she repeated, staring rather obviously at him. "You can't even give me a vague story about how you knew you were meant to be? How the stars aligned and everything made sense?"

"Because—"

"You don't remember because it's all in your head," she said. "You admitted that the mountain made you believe things. That you wanted to hurt people, that you were in love with people. You even used that as part of your excuse to Sarah when you broke up with her. 'The mountain made you do.' It made you kiss another girl because it was fucking with your head."

"It did fuck with my head—"

"What if it never stopped, Louis?" she asked, staring him down. "You claimed to have fought all those urges off, but what if you didn't? What if you were weak and near death, and trapped in a cave with a girl and these thoughts, and they somehow all came together and dug into your brain?"

He was staring at her as if she'd grown a second head. "Are you listening to yourself? You sound mental."

"You can't remember falling in love with her because you didn't," she said. "It's a fucking spell. You're damaged."

Louis' expression grew dark. He did not appreciate that comment at all. "No. What I feel is real."

"I bet it feels real," she said. "Especially when she's around or someone brings her up—or says her name!—because that's when it's clear something is messing with your head. You turn into this pathetic person who's begging for her love and attention. But the second she's gone away or out of you mind for a few minutes, you're back to normal. You're even clear headed enough to have sex with other girls because you're not actually in love with her!"

"YES, I AM!"

"Because you wouldn't be doing that if you were actually in love with her!"

"You don't..." he said very slowly; very angrily, stepping toward her. "What happened with Sarah was a fucking mistake that never, ever should have happened. I regret it entirely. But ultimately, Amalie—as much as I wish we were—are not together."

"Because she knows it's a spell, too. Everyone but you knows it's a spell!"

"You seriously believe that?" he said, stepping up to her. "You have no fucking clue. None whatsoever. You don't know her or our relationship or what we talk about. You seem to have it in your head that it's all spell damage and the tournament that's causing these changes in me, but maybe I just wanted to change? Maybe I was tired of the old me? Maybe now I can be something different."

"What's that?"

"Someone who doesn't give a shit what you or anyone else has to say!" he shouted. "i've made some mistakes, but I love Amalie. I do. Nothing can change that."

"But she's not in love with you!" She shouted, looking him in the eyes. "IT'S. A. SPELL."

He'd had a face full of nasty looks for her in the last few minutes, but this one—this one was the look to end all looks. This one was full of fire and anger and a sense of loathing that she'd never once, not in eighteen years, ever seen him muster. She tried not to let it startle her, deciding to press on because she needed to say this.

"And if you were actually in love, you'd see it," Dominique said, taking a precautionary step backwards. "But you can't see it. Everyone else can. Why do you think we've all been pushing for you to take that potion?"

He was staring at her, but for the briefest of moments she saw his expression flinch from anger to confusion.

"That potion wasn't to help us, it's why I never took it. It was to help you because it's the only thing that controls your spell. If you don't take it, you turn into a mess. Like now. No one wants to deal with you, especially the girl you're supposedly in love with. That's why I lied to you about it. You needed it and wouldn't take it if you knew the truth."

He was still staring at her, though not a word, an expression, or a movement had left his person since she'd started speaking. He looked frozen in time.

"And this wasn't how I wanted to tell you, but someone has to say something—"

"Fuck you," he said finally, causing her to jolt a bit at the cold and empty way he said it. "Fuck you. You're a liar."

"I've only lied to try and protect you. Now I'm telling the truth."

"No you're not. You're making up shit right now about spells! "

"I'm not making that up! You're under a—!"

"I'm not under any spells!" he shouted. "You're a fucking liar! All you've been doing lately is lying!"

"I'm not lying about this!"

He suddenly looked disgusted, as if she were some sort of squashed bug he'd just stepped on. "You. You were supposed to be the ones fucking person I could—"

"I am that person. I'm the only one telling you the truth!"

"You just told me how you lied to me, and I'm now supposed to believe you're telling the truth?" he said. "Fuck you! You can't accept that I'm not the same Louis who was always so fucking perfect. You can't accept that I want different things in life now, that I'm in love with a perfect girl."

"I can accept that if it made sense, but it doesn't!

"And you know what," he said, sounding as if he hadn't heard her, "if you can't accept it, you can stay away from me. We're done."

Despite the gravity of the situation, she couldn't help but pull a ridiculous face. "We can't be done. This isn't a relationship you can just end. It doesn't work like that."

But he'd turned to storm off at that. Her chest then started to clench uncomfortably. She and Louis had many rows in their day, but something about that one had been unsettling. There had been a moment, a brief moment, where she's actually been a little scared of what he was capable of doing. She wasn't dealing with the boy she grew up having shouting matches against any longer; this was a different person. She was a different person. Everything was so very different.

She took a deep breath and realized that if she was going to make it to the final Quidditch match, she was probably going to have to swing by the hospital wing to get something to stave off this feeling.

When she'd recounted it for Sarah and Natalie after she'd reached the arena later on, Sarah had actually looked almost as angry as Dominique had felt. She had already been through the wringer with how cavalierly Louis had thrown away everything they'd ever had, but a love spell shouldn't be forcing him to act out on everyone. That was all on him.

"It's as if he's trying to break up with you," Natalie had said from her seat beside Sarah. "He's just tossing aside everyone who dares disrupts this perfect little vision he has in his head."

"It's a fake vision," Dominique reminded them.

Natalie was nodding as if to agree, while Sarah sat positively fuming beside her as she stared out onto the pitch, "I can't believe he actually said that I was lying. As if I'd make that up. How about we go and ask his new French friend to fish around in that head of his to see who's lying."

"She has to already know about everything," Natalie offered. "He can't exactly keep secrets from her." She pointed to her head.

"I'd bet she actually doesn't," Dominique said. "I'd told her the night of the ball that he was going off his potion. She's probably avoiding him; that's what she did at Beauxbatons. She wants nothing to do with him when he's under the influence of that spell."

"I'm not even going to try and wrap my head around her wanting anything to do with him at all," Sarah muttered. "If I knew that, at any point, some boy would turn into a goon who would make me uncomfortable, I would cut him off for good when I had the chance. I wouldn't, instead, hang around him just because he happens to be well behaved on some potion. You play with fire..."

Natalie nodded, and Dominique looked away. The Calming Daughter was doing its job now and had managed to bring her down after her row, but it had come at the cost of having to listen to Pomfrey lecture her on getting a more reliable potion routine. She'd been positively delighted to hear Dominique was speaking to someone that afternoon.

She focused her attention on how the arena was packed with scarlet and gold, as well as blue and bronze. Madam Hooch had emerged from the tunnels then, signifying that the match was due to start in the next few minutes.

Dominique sighed. She really needed this. More than anything, she just wanted to focus on Quidditch and nothing more. She wanted to watch her team as they battled their way toward the Cup. She wanted to watch her boyfriend play in his last school match. She wanted to watch Giggleswick hopefully get destroyed. She wanted to be like everyone else sitting there and simply watch the final match of term. but that didn't seem quite possible. Her mind was in so many different places.

"Did you manage to catch Jack before?" Natalie asked after prolonged silence.

Dominique laughed a little, now smiling a bit awkwardly as she turned to look at the others. With everything else happening, she'd forgotten to tell them about her brief run in with Jack earlier. "I did. And it was incredibly weird."

She got curious stares from both girls as she began to explain that she had managed to catch Jack quickly between when Gryffindor had finished its warm ups and when they were headed back to the changing rooms. She'd snuck down through the back entrance; knowing she wasn't supposed to be back in the tunnels, but she also knew her way around well enough that she figured she could sneak in and out rather quickly.

She'd only had to wait a few minutes before Jack and the rest of her team had come off the pitch. She'd wished all of them good luck—throwing James, in particular, a very knowing look to remind him to take care of things—before she felt Jack's hand settle on her side. After he kissed her quickly to say hello, he said, "Glad to see you made it. Was worried you'd sleep through it when you didn't turn up to breakfast. Rough night?"

She smiled at him. As much as she wanted to recount to him about her awful night and her argument with her brother, now was not the time. She was here to let him run his last minute thoughts by her; let him ramble off his nervous energy, which he was doing by constantly reminding her—and thus, himself—how Ravenclaw was prone to attack the rings in pairs.

After a couple of minutes, she finally grabbed him by the shoulders as if to steady him. "You've got this. You will crush them. Focus on stopping the push and hope our Chasers can end things quick and clean." She held out her fist to him. "And don't fuck it up."

"Don't fuck it up," he repeated, tapping her as they had every time they'd done that since they were thirteen. He then smiled at her before he leaned in to lay a very excited kiss on her. She'd been a little startled by how hard he'd come at her, but she liked it. She always liked this side of him.

"I have to remember that you don't sleep with losers," he said, barely breaking away from her lips.

"I didn't really mean that—"

"Shhh, I'm using it as incentive," he said as he wrapped his arms around her. "Let me think it."

"Whatever pushes you harder," she laughed. "But, I will say that I did mean it when I said if you win this, I will make it worth your while."

"I want nothing more than to know what that means," he said before he kissed her again, this time both of them allowing it to get a little carried away due to all the excitement in the air. At least it had until someone cleared their throat behind them.

They'd slowly pulled apart, and she'd turned to find that Longbottom was standing there with her Aunt Ginny and her Uncle Harry.

At that part of the story, Natalie's jaw had dropped, though Sarah seemed only mildly confused. "Why were they there?"

"They'd come to watch James today," Dominique said, "and they hadn't wanted to cause a stir walking through the front. Longbottom was taking them through the back."

"Oh, shit," Sarah said with a laugh. Natalie still was staring rather slack jawed.

"They seemed mortified for having interrupted," Dominique said, shaking her head out of embarrassment. "I was mortified. And Longbottom immediately got on me about how I'm not even supposed to be back there."

"Did you get in trouble?"

She shook her head. "He just told me that I should know better and that it was time for me to go. But with Ginny and Harry standing right there, I couldn't ignore them. I had to say hi and introduce them to Jack." She made a face and made her voice purposely sound funny. "'Hi, Ginny and Harry! The boy whose throat I was just sticking my tongue down is my boyfriend. Pleasure to meet you.'"

Sarah was practically cackling now.

"Jack even started making small talk about the people Ginny had put him in contact with for Quidditch and how helpful it was," Dominique said in disbelief. "I just stood there thinking, 'Fuck my life. What is happening?'" She rubbed her eyes. "The moment wouldn't end until Longbottom finally said something about how Jack needed to get back to his team and we all needed to get to our seats."

"That's amazing," Sarah said, sounding genuinely amused. "Never a dull moment with you."

"All I want are dull moments," she muttered, just as a loud, familiar horn blew at that moment to signify the start of the match, causing everyone to suddenly stand up and cheer. Dominique pulled herself away from talks of being caught in the act to catch the scarlet robes of Gryffindor come flying out of their entrance with Jack leading the charge. Ravenclaw had emerged from the opposite end and everyone was now flying around the pitch and readying themselves.

James had gone straight up to examine the pitch from above, and she could only hope he'd taken everything they'd talked about to heart. Then again, perhaps he didn't need her tips and tricks and would manage on his own. Either way, it was strange to see someone else in her position.

Jack looked focused and more relaxed than he probably felt as he landed beside Hooch along with Giggleswick, listening to her quick pregame instructions before the pair were forced to shake hands. Immediately after, they both took to their brooms once more and retreated to their respective positions—Jack to the left side of the pitch as he and Tommy silently communicated something though hand and bat gestures, while Giggleswick took to the sky above it all and opposite where James was currently stationed. In the center, all six of the Chasers were poised and ready for Hooch to release the Quaffle.

"Don't fuck it up," she said to no one, feeling far more nervous standing there than she would have if she were on her broom. "Please don't fuck it up."

The match had been a complete back and forth from the start, until Ravenclaw had started to run away with things roughly half an hour in. It was fortunate that an incredibly well hit Bludger courtesy of Tommy had taken out Amelia Pragg, their strongest Chaser of the bunch. That alone had slowed down their offensive attack, allowing Gryffindor—and Eatins, specifically—to rally and keep the match within a hundred points.

Rory had taken a nasty Bludger to the side halfway through the match, but found it in him to stay on his broom and push forward—despite it seemingly rendering him useless. Once the Snitch had begun to pop up, Dominique could have sworn it was Giggleswick's to lose; it kept appearing on his end and within his line of sight. He unfortunately could not seem to close it, and one bad break—for him, not for Gryffindor—where James happened to get the jump on him ended the match.

In just under two hours, Gryffindor had won the cup.

It was an incredibly bittersweet moment to watch, as the team collapsed on each other into a dogpile of celebration. People in the stands were ecstatic; others were disappointed. Dominique stood there feeling an odd mixture of both. She should be down there at the bottom of that pile; not up in the stands. But this also had nothing to do with her any longer—she hadn't been part of the winning team. For all she knew, Giggleswick wouldn't have gotten that bad break with her and it would be an entirely different outcome. Gryffindor had done that on their own.

The residents of Gryffindor house had all returned to their Tower for the post-match celebration. Someone had already taken it upon themselves to nip to the kitchens for Butterbeer and treats, and the room was buzzing with high energy and laughter. It was a wonderful way to unwind before the reality of looming exams returned. Dominique decided to do her best to simply enjoy the moment instead of wishing it were different. She couldn't change anything, so why bother?

"Jack played really well," Sarah had said to her. She'd taken a seat on the armrest of the oversized chair Dominique had been sitting in while the celebration played out all around them. "He got a few good cracks in."

She nodded and gripped her Butterbeer. "He kept it consistent, but I think Tommy actually had the better show. For all the fucking around he's done, he really pulled it together today."

"They did well," Sarah said, glancing toward the portrait hole as it swung open. The team had returned, and the room erupted into loud cheers. Friends were rushing to greet them and randoms were offering their congratulations. Dominique could spot Jack entering—taking all the praise thrown at him—but she didn't stand to rush the entrance as so many others did. Let him have his moment. He'd find her eventually.

"Have you seen Louis lately?" Dominique asked Sarah, having noticed that she hadn't seen a trace of Louis since their argument. She'd scanned the stands of the match for him, but he hadn't turned up. He hadn't been back to the common room either.

"No, but I'm not looking for him," Sarah muttered.

Dominique said nothing. She'd been hoping to talk to him about what had happened earlier, but he'd once again seemed to vanish. She again wondered if he was down by the lake.

Jack had broken away from the crowds then; he was headed straight for her. She smiled the second they made eye contact and watched as he walked with a rather proud, almost cocky energy about him. If anyone deserves to walk around as if he owned the school right now, it was him. This was truly his moment.

"You're the one person I want to see and you're over here hiding," he said as he swooped in and kissed her; smelling of sweat and Quidditch and everything she loved. He'd come in so quickly that Sarah had gotten bounced off the opposite arm rest.

"Well done, you," she said after she pulled away, though she wrapped her arms around his neck as she did. "You all were amazing. I can't even critique much. You did everything you had to do and…" She laughed. "You won't the bloody cup!"

"Everything came together," he said, looking rather smiley. "The pieces worked, everyone was doing what they needed to do, Tommy—" His face lit up. "Did you see his hit on—?"

"I did. It was fantastic." She looked over Jack's shoulder to see Tommy surrounded by his friends and happily recounting some sort of story for them. She had to assume it was about his hit since he was miming swinging a bat.

"Textbook," Jack said proudly, as if by some sort of extension he'd been responsible. "It was at that moment, I knew he'd been listening to me for the last three years. I almost fell off my broom."

"I would have." she said, reaching up to playfully tousle his sweaty hair. Sarah appeared beside the pair of them to congratulate Jack—allowing him once again to praise Tommy's strike and gush about how well everyone had done.

Dominique took the moment to peel away and go congratulate Tommy herself for his game-changing hit. He was surprisingly modest when she'd told him well done, but he was also oddly thoughtful as he mentioned that it wasn't the same without her there. It prompted her to remind him that he needed to get used to that. Next year, he would be the team's most senior member.

She'd gone around to all of her former teammates to congratulate them. She'd told Rory he did a great job hanging in there, commended Alice on her quickness and ability to keep herself from getting knocked off her broom, and called Eatins a beast of a Chaser who'd somehow managed to hold the entire offensive core together like glue. She'd found Kenley to genuinely tell her she'd done very well—and it was true. She was by no means a stellar Keeper, but she'd grown and she'd tried. It was obvious that Dominique had been wrong about her from day one. She did care. She was simply slow to get there.

And James. She'd found him holding court near the window—his friends, his brother, his cousins, and their friends—all gathered around him to commend his match winning catch. She'd forced them all aside—which wasn't hard, seeing as she still managed to intimidate a few people around here—and walked directly up to him. He seemed rather proud of himself as they made eye contact.

"I don't know why you're always so worried about that Giggleswick bloke," he said rather confidently. "Seems rather unremarkable, if you ask me."

She raised her eyebrow at him, though he immediately broke into a fit of laughter at her face as if he was taking the piss and seeing how she would react. He should be happy he was currently the match winning Seeker; otherwise, she may have to curse him. "He almost had you a few times. You got a few lucky breaks."

"He's very good." He shrugged. "But I'm better." She raised her eyebrow once more, before he added, "What? I have the stats to prove it."

She reached out and tapped him on the side of the head; not enough to hurt him, but to knock some sense into him. "Don't get cocky. No one likes cocky. I was about to come over here and tell you 'well done', but I think you've pat yourself on the back enough for the both of us."

He stopped smirking and lett his dumb act drop for a moment. "I'm mostly kidding. I actually took a lot of your tips and used them. It helped. You've got a good eye for this stuff and you know his habits really well. I felt as if it helped me stay ahead of him. So, thanks."

She smiled a little. "You did really well, James. I mean that. If anyone else was going to go out there and fill my shoes, I'm happy it was you. Just...keep it up next year."

"I will," he said, his response genuine.

She'd gone back to find Jack after that—finding him sitting in the chair she'd abandoned and talking to a collection of people who were passing around butterbeers. He'd already abandoned most of the extra layers of his Quidditch uniform down to a t-shirt; as she plopped down on the armrest of his chair, she listened as he finished telling a story about how he'd had casual run-ins with representatives from two different teams after the match, both of whom seemed impressed with his performance. He was now brushing off people's questions as to where he thought he may be playing next year.

She reached out and gave his back an affectionate rub as he spoke; realizing that even a mundane gesture such as this was so much more than she would have ever been capable even just a short time ago. A year ago, she was hiding in tunnels and down empty corridors if she wanted to spend time with a boy. Six months ago, she would have cringed at the idea of even attempting to publicly show affection. But somehow, someway, he'd managed to break her down over the weeks and months. She not only felt comfortable with the hand holding and the touching now, but even kissing in a room full of people wasn't something she was afraid of any longer. He really did have the patience of a saint.

He'd finished his story and turned back to look up at her—smiling as he did so. She smiled back and randomly pushed his hair back. It was nice to see him as happy as he was. He'd worked really, really hard to get to this point and he'd put up with a lot of pushback from people—most of all her. It really was his time to celebrate.

He reached up and pulled her down into his lap, taking her completely by surprise. She let that reaction give way to laughter as he purposely bumped his forehead against hers, staring at her as he said, "I love you."

She smiled a little, feeling a little exposed. While she'd come a long way, she still felt a bit vulnerable. "I know," she said . "And I love you, too."

"No, I really love you."

She pretended to look confused. "Did you fake love me before, or…?"

"No," He smiled. "I'm only making sure you know." He let his head thump back onto the chair. "I'm really happy right now."

"I can tell," she said, and when she smiled, she wasn't sure she was going to be able to stop. Just seeing how happy he was made her happier than she knew she was capable of being.

To further demonstrate how much she'd come along as a person in the last few months, she made no attempt to get off his lap and remained there while entire conversations happened all around them. People would talk to him, to her, and no one seemed to care or question it as she'd always oddly assumed people would. The hang ups she had for so long seemed rather stupid now as life buzzed all around them. This was apparently perfectly normal—it had just taken her ages to get there.

"And then he stormed off," she said to him later on, recounting her and her brother's row earlier that day. "Told me we we're done."

Jack had been listening intently, his face expressionless until the end when he suddenly looked baffled. "What does that even mean?"

"I think he broke up with me," Dominique half-joked. She wasn't sure how else to put it, even if she knew it sounded ridiculous.

"That doesn't…" Jack couldn't seem to wrap his head around any of this. "What?"

"I keep trying to tell him that his damage is starting to show that he's worse off than he understands; that he needs to see someone. But if you ask him, he's perfectly fine," she said with a roll of her eyes. "I'm just being a bitch.."

Jack sighed, though suddenly glancing over to the clock above the fireplace. "Don't you have that thing today? What Longbottom set up? At three, right?"

She nodded, her mood feeling rather heavy. "Probably should leave in a few." She looked back at him a little glumly. Her expression must have been telling because he immediately leaned in and kissed her.

"I'll talk to him," he said.

"Good luck," she muttered. "He refuses to listen to anyone."

"I'll figure it out. I always have. We have a different relationship than you two. He goes on the defensive with you because that's how you two work. He doesn't do that with me."

"You mean he didn't used to."

"In the entire time we've been friends, we've fought maybe twice. And we made up and buried it all an hour later. It's how we work."

She didn't look entirely convinced, but chose not to comment further. Maybe he was right. If anyone had always gotten along on Louis, it was Jack. Louis might possibly leave his guard down a bit longer with him than he would have with her. Jack didn't fly off the handle like she did.

She pulled herself up off of Jack's lap so that she could make her way downstairs to Longbottom's office. All around the room, the mood was still jovial and celebratory. Some people looked to be quieting down; others looked as if they could go all night. It made her miss simpler times now more than ever.