excerpt from Bound for company by Nora Finnigan

My first kiss was with Louis Weasley under a mistletoe just before the holiday break in my fourth year. Stuck beneath beside him, it felt like forever before he tugged on the neck of my sweater and pulled me into his embrace. For a first kiss, it was lovely.

At least, it was at the moment.

It was the after that ruined it. Louis ignored my love-struck, schoolgirl crush for two years until kissing me once more under the influence of a drug I probably shouldn't have taken.

This is all to say; your first kiss doesn't have to be amazing. Because in my sixth year, James kissed me, and while it didn't erase every awkward kiss before it, I love every second. For any kiss ever in the history of kisses, it was fucking brilliant.

end excerpt

January 4, 2023

I break the silence in the compartment as I ease open the squeaky window. As the cold hits my bare cheeks, I watch James pull out his wand and perform warming charms. I shrug at my companions. I light a cigarette from the pack in my jacket pocket and slouch further into the bench, resting my wrist on the sill, letting my hand and fag dangle in the biting air of the new year.

We're sat just like the last train ride with Deidre and me on one bench across from James and Rose on the other. I try to catch James's gaze before taking another drag, but he closes his eyes as he leans back.

Thinking of him and what happened in London, I can feel my face grow hot, and my heart beats faster until a thought strikes my mind.

"Fuck," I groan. "Rose, can you finish my fag?"

Rose nudges James to move further from the window. She takes my cigarette between two long fingers and sits across from me with a smile.

"What's wrong, love?" she asks.

"I think I forgot something at home."

I stand and pull my trunk from the luggage rack. It tumbles down less than gracefully, landing on the bench with a thud. I rifle through it quickly, throwing clothes next to Deidre, but do not find what I'm looking for.

"Nora…" Deidre waits for my attention, "your knickers."

I look at the pile of my stuff with a blush forming but find the small bags mum makes me pack my delicates within. The embarrassment subsides some.

"Sod off," I grunt as I throw everything back into the trunk.

"What'd you forget?"

I ignore Deidre for a moment as I struggle to close my trunk and put it back on the rack. Before I can get it over the lip and after Rose begins laughing at me, I feel two hands rest beside my own, quickly pushing the trunk into place. I turn around to find James's chest very close to my face. He takes a step back.

"I forgot your present," I tell him. "My dad is going to send a howler."

James steps back once more, taking a seat on his side of the compartment.

"Seems a bit rash to send a howler over that," Rose comments.

I eye the fag still in her hand, but just as I move to take a drag, she leans over and flicks the butt out the window.

"I may or may not forget something every term."

"Glad to see the streak is continuing," Deidre says. "Second year, she forgot her Defense textbook and didn't realize until a month in."

Rose laughs.

James leans toward me and says, "If you don't want to write home, I can just wait to get my present."

"You're not waiting until summer for a Christmas present because I'm a little embarrassed," I tell him.

"Whatever you want to do."

I pull the cigarettes from my pocket once more, and Deidre groans about lung cancer and open windows. I flip a finger in her direction as I light the fag with the other one. James catches my eye as I inhale and shove the pack back into my jacket, and I inhale harder. The memory of London shoots through my mind like a bullet train.

.

I wander toward the loo after flicking the butt of my cigarette out the window, which Deidre promptly reaches over me to close. Still in my muggle attire, including a bubble-jacket, I have to shrug off a few layers before I can pee comfortably. After, the water is freezing as it spurts from the faucet. I make awkward eye contact with the reflection of a Slytherin already in their robes.

I need a moment with my thoughts, so I find an empty compartment and throw my jacket onto one of the benches. I settle onto the other one, drying my hands on my trousers.

"That doesn't look too effective," James comments from the open door.

"Someone got the basket of hand towels sopping wet," I tell him. "What are you doing down here?"

He closes the door behind him and sits beside me. I try not to read into his seating choice and relax my arms.

"You're not the only one who uses the loo."

Part of me wants to tell him I want to be alone, but the rest of me wants him to scoot closer. And just like on Halloween night, it's like I manifest this moment because he does scoot closer.

"I was right; it was a long week," he says.

"Weren't you in Italy?"

"I guess beautiful architecture and delicious food did distract me a bit."

He rests a hand on my knee, and every nerve in my body explodes. I look up at him and imagine a first kiss where I push up onto my tiptoes. I imagine it truly was him that night with the drugs.

My chest fills with bravery and spontaneity, and I say, "Hey."

James looks down at me. "What?"

"You should kiss me."

James leans down quickly. I think he'd been waiting for me to ask all along.

.

January 5, 2023

"So when you came back from the loo together, he had just kissed you?" Rose asks through a mouth full of caramel chews.

I ignore the wad of grossness peeking between her teeth and nod with a wide smile.

We're sitting just in front of the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room late the next night. A few stragglers are left playing a slow game of chess, and Rose has spread out all the sweets she either received for Christmas or stole from her father's secret stash. I take a bite of chocolate filled with raspberry cream while she gushes about James and me.

And then she asks the question I have been dreading.

"So what are you two, then?"

"We haven't talked yet."

"Wow, Nora. You asked a boy to snog you senseless without making him your boyfriend first?" Rose says with a hand over her chest and a twinkle in her eye.

I laugh loudly, apparently disrupting the chess players as I hear them huff.

"While I'm thrilled the two of you have admitted to being annoying in like with one another," Rose starts, "you have to promise me you won't leave me alone with Albus so much this term."

I wrap my pink around hers and look in her eyes. "I promise."

"Swear it." She giggles.

"I swear on my socially-constructed virginity, I will not leave you alone with Albus so much."

"Well, I can't trust that now that you're asking my cousin to stick his tongue down your throat."

.

I stumble out of the Fat Lady's portrait sometime later. I know it's definitely after curfew, but the sounds of footsteps that are not mine echo through the corridor.

"Nora?" They ask. "What are you doing up?"

Scorpius steps out of the shadows as he walks toward me alone.

"Hanging out with Rose. What are you doing?"

"Rounds."

"You aren't a prefect," I say without thought.

"I can assure you I am literally a prefect."

I do not respond, choosing to look at his shoes instead. We haven't talked much since he helped recruit me for the paper. Every once in a while, he'll be in the old classroom he and Emma share as an office, but we never give each other more than an obligated greeting. Emma took care of any notes on my column and took all of my final drafts to the layout team. Or the layout person. I have no idea who lays everything out.

"If you just walk back to your dorm now, I won't dock points," he says after a moment. "The others should be in the dungeons right now, so you have time."

"Where's your partner?"

"Sick."

"Alright."

I turn around and speed walk down the hall.

.

January 6, 2023

After dinner on Friday, Deidre and I return to the dorm full and content. Deidre hums as we climb the staircase, a small skip in her step, and I am reminded of her at every age before this. She has always been so much happier than me. So much more full of life.

And then she stops at the sight of a girl sitting in Indra's bed with an open trunk sitting at its foot.

"Louise?" I question, looking pointedly at one of the girls from the other Hufflepuff dormitory for our year.

"Hi," she says cheerily, hanging up a dress in the empty half of Deidre's wardrobe.

"What are you doing here?"

"Moving in." She shrugs.

Deidre's breathing speeds up beside me, and I grab her hand. I try to catch her eye and assure her, but she's far too focused on Louise's unpacking. The door opens once more as Lenny and Franci come back from dinner, talking animatedly about some bloke or another. They come to a halt behind Deidre's and my rooted bodies.

"Oi, Louise," Franci says, "what's going on?"

"She's moving into Indra's bed apparently," Deidre responds quickly.

"We figured you have four, and we have six, so might as well make it even," Louise explains.

"We had five," Deidre bites.

I squeeze her hand tighter.

"Why tonight? Why not when we got back?" Lenny asks, eyeing Deidre.

"Well, we had to clear it with Blum first."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Deidre cries, ripping her hand out of mine and storming out of the dorm. I throw everyone a look before following after her.

.

"This term was supposed to be different!" Deidre shouts once I exit the second barrel lid. She's pacing the corridor just outside, wringing her hands and shaking her head. "I rid myself of that old radio and the music and her —" She takes in a deep breath.

"You can't just rid yourself of her," I say softly. I take a step towards her but think better of it when she flinches away.

"Not with some bint sleeping in her bed! I had it all figured out: study hard, focus on my apprenticeship, hang out with you lot more. It was managed."

"What was managed?"

"The pain, Nora! The fucking ache." She nears the wall and balls her fist as if to punch it but shoves it into her hair instead. "I can't miss her anymore!"

"Well, I think you have to."

Deidre stops pacing and practically falls onto the stone floor, hugging her knees to her chest. I liken her to a child in a fit or a dog put in timeout. But maybe, with her all her grief, this analogy is unfair.

"I want to stop thinking about her," she pouts.

I sit down in front of her.

"Then you have to think about her."

"What does that even mean?"

"You have to grieve, idiot," I stress, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"But just the thought of her name can send me over the edge."

"Then go over the edge," I counter. "Think of her name again and again. Think of her name until it doesn't hurt anymore. Semantic Satiation, love. Think about her until it doesn't hurt so fucking much to picture her face or conjure her voice."

Deidre laughs hollowly, placing a hand over mine on her shoulder. Tears are running down her face, and mascara is following them. She sniffles loudly before laughing some more until it becomes hysterical. Passersby look at us like a modern exhibit too strange to be anything but art.

I squeeze her shoulder for moments and minutes until the laughter dies down.

"How long will that take?" She asks.

"I have no bloody idea."

.

January 7, 2023

On Saturday, James is sitting in the common room when I stumble down the girls' staircase for breakfast. I left Deidre sleeping off her reaction to our new roommate, and, clad in oversized, pink joggers and a black jumper, I am bleary-eyed and tired as I spot James drawing on the settee. I instinctively reach up and flatten my hair.

I remind myself he already likes me, but another voice in my head says I could ruin it all with a hair out of place or a jumper that doesn't fall just right.

He says, "Good morning," as I cautiously sit beside him. I have been both dreading and awaiting a talk that has yet to transpire. Between classes, catching up with Anonymous, and making up for forgetting Rose last term, there hasn't been the time.

"Morning," I return, my heart pounding.

"I'm assuming you haven't had breakfast yet," he muses while pointing to my slippers. The soles are falling apart. "What's happened here?"

I flex my foot, watching the hole take a new shape.

"I must walk funny or something because I just got these in the summer."

James just hums in response as if deep in thought. I wonder if he can hear my heartbeat; it's so hard and loud that it muffles the sound of my own voice.

"Do you want to go outside and talk or something?" I ask quickly, nerves flaring beneath my skin.

James's eyes widen as he turns to face me, but then, almost as if his eyes had never widened in the first place, his face becomes expressionless. I try to hold his gaze as I feel a blush spread across my cheeks, and my heartbeat somehow bangs louder.

He asks, "Do you want to grab breakfast first?"

"And awkwardly sit across from you as we eat eggs and you sip coffee?"

"No, I mean… I've only just woke up and need some time to…"

"Think?" I finish for him.

"We can talk now if you want."

"James, we can go to breakfast first. I'll just grab my coat from upstairs."

I run up the stairs, my face beginning to flush, and grab the first jacket I can find.

.

At breakfast, we both eat eggs in silence. James does not sip coffee, but I do. It's a rare and desperate act for me — I hate the taste, and it makes me jittery — but sleep has not been my companion as of late. The thick, brown sludge burns its way down my throat and makes my tongue feel as if it's tasting ash.

I cough.

"Alright?" James asks.

"Coffee is disgusting."

We fall into silence once more, but this time, I look up to find him staring at me. His deep brown eyes look heavenly beneath the imitation sky, and I almost melt. And then I laugh.

"Sorry," I sigh. "It's just… four months ago, I would have never imagined feeling like this around you. It feels a bit silly to be so nervous."

James looks down at our half-empty plates and back up at me.

"You want to go outside now?"

.

Near my favorite tree and the frozen pond, we stand an arm's length from one another in uncomfortable silence. My laugh from the dining halls feels like an infinity away. My anxiety runs up my throat, forcing me to speak.

"I have no idea how to start something like this."

"Well… I think we admitted to fancying each other back in London."

"I think we did."

"And then we kissed on the train."

"That we definitely did," I say with a soft laugh. It takes a slight pressure off my heart.

I look at the snow below us, digging my boot further down until I can only see my leg from the ankle up. James does not say anything else.

"What does that mean?" I ask like a child. At least, that's how it feels, this moment leaving me lost and scared in the newness of this situation.

"I think it'll mean whatever we want it to mean."

I stare wide-eyed into the lake. I thought about this conversation almost every waking moment since we stood across from one another on a busy sidewalk in Diagon Alley just after Christmas. But, right now, it also feels like I haven't thought about this at all. And James is not being very helpful.

"What do you want it to mean, James?"

"Can I ask you something first?"

I find him gazing at me once more, and I nod in response.

"When did you first start to… like me? You said that four months ago, you would have found yourself silly for feeling nervous around me."

I smile at the memory of that golden morning, internally shuddering at the clumsy way I handled the realization of my feelings. I try not to think of all the nervousness and idiocy that followed.

"When I woke up in your bed," I tell him. "You were so kind and, well, mesmerizing in the glow of the morning. It kind of hit me all at once."

James looks up at the sky with a smile. I reach out and take a chance by taking his hand. He squeezes mine and doesn't let go. My heartbeat still rages. This moment is nothing like how I dreamed of this conversation going. I thought by now there might be kissing or hair tucked behind my ear. Something romantic. The rawness of our nervousness and honesty is startling, but I think of how, lately, honesty and bravery have become my greatest assets. And then he looks at me.

"When did you start to like me?" I ask in return.

"It didn't hit me all at once. I knew I was a little interested last year, and the more I got to know you, that only grew. But then, on your birthday, after the party, you were opening the drawing. You said you thought it wouldn't make any noise."

"I remember."

"It wasn't that night or even that moment just… I asked you why you would think something like that, and you looked up at me, and your eyes were so glassy. You just said, 'I'm legless, James.' And I knew."

"That's it?" I laugh. "'I'm legless, James?'"

He smiles at me. Then, "It did help that you looked more beautiful than usual."

The word beautiful knocks the wind out of me, and it's a moment before I collect myself enough to respond.

"You think I usually look beautiful?"

"Of course I do."

I do not tell him that nobody has ever said it like this before. Beautiful. My dad used to say it a lot when I was younger and more outwardly insecure, but that was in comfort. Mum and Jane say it when I'm more put together than my everyday attire. Rose and Deidre have both said it many times. I like to think they all mean it, but the less than stable part of my brain tells me they all have a motive or obligation. James, on the other hand, has neither. At least, I haven't found one yet.

"I've never been in a relationship," I blurt. "I'm not saying I don't want one — I just — I have no idea what I'm doing."

"I'm not exactly a seasoned expert," James returns. "But I think we can figure it out together."

"Alright, we'll figure it out together."

Our hands are still clasped as we gaze at each other with stupid grins. James squeezes, and I squeeze back before laughter erupts from my throat. This time, James laughs along with me, eyes dancing. There are beauty and harmony in this moment, burying and burying the nervousness still dancing in my belly until it hurts from all the laughter. When it slows and softens, James leans down to kiss me without having to be asked.