Hi hi hi dears! Hope everything's going well for you, especially nowadays. I'm very sorry about taking such long time to upload but was a bit busy and also wasn't feeling very motivated since I didn't get a lot of reviews for the last chapter, but as an apollogy please accept this VERY long chapter (honestly, this is the longest chapter I've ever written) I think I wrote so much because I barely write about James and Jane at all and since Nana and a few other people asked about them I decided I'll try being a bit more generous with them - of course this will still be Sirius centered but I'll try including James and Jane more often.
Just wanted to say that I do mention James's age later in the chapter but am unsure whereas that's his real age at the time this is supposed to set place in or not, if it isn't please let me know and I'll edit it.
Especial thanks to LeleMichaelson for her review, just wanted to assure you I'm determined to finish this story because really this all started because I wanted to write a story set during the golden trio time and that's actually what I began to write two years ago but then this idea came up and I thought I'd be much better and more complete if I started things here... hence this story happened first but I'm planning on writting a second story set in the 90s once this one's finished - most characters will be there as well along with some new ones so always know that I'll finish this story, no matter how long it takes me.
LeleMichaleson, regarding your comments, I agree with you, but Sirius won't change overnight as most people don't and let's hope to see some improvement from him. I'll pay more attention to Simon, I think I've finally sort of learned how to write him and his situation better, so for sure you'll be reading more about him and his point of view. And yes! He's a lot like Regulus, guess being a sibling to a much explossive and outgoing sibling does things to ones character. Anyway, thank you sooo much for your words, it means a lot! 3
And to my nameless guest who reviewed just last night, let me tell you I was planning on going to sleep tonight (and who knows when I'd have finished this if that had happened) but I said to myself, if I log in and see one single review then I'll try writting a bit and then I saw yours and... voila. Thanks for commenting and let me know about your suggestion on my private messanges.
Of course I don't own Harry Potter or anything from its universe.
Please review if you want me to upload often.
"And… we're home" Castor Abbott let out cheerfully, his beech wooden wand out as he levitated Jane's suitcase in front of them with no effort and soon the two of them began taking their now useless jackets and scarves off.
The warmth inside the room, as well as everything else was just as Jane remembered it. Her mother's workplace had highly influenced their house decorations and ways, so in the Abbott household, just as in St. Mungo's the temperature was never too hot nor too cold and despite having it fair share of people coming in and out of it, it never smelled of anything in particular but the undescriptable smell of cleanness.
Most of their furniture consisted of modest ones in neutral tones, and that was the case with the rest of the house. Even their clock made the faintest and calmest of sounds and it had contributed to all members of the family developing a good ear from it. The curtains were creamy and like most things in the house had been made by Mrs. Abbott when they had first moved into the house and had never even been in need of replacing. The floors were of old golden oak and no footprint ever settled there for longer than five minutes.
The only thing that'd possibly draw any strangers attention to it was the dozens of books that were stacked on every free corner of the room - after the study and living room had gone over their capacity to stock titles, Mrs. Abbott had simply began to put them everywhere, even the bathrooms. Mr. Abbott offered building a special room for the excesses, but Helen refused, for once, he shouldn't take jobs that demanded that much physical effort from him and besides, she liked the feeling of being surrounded by words of so much power - it reminded her of her childhood home.
"Hello dear" said a light Scottish accent, weakened from the attacks living in the outsides of Liverpool for more than two decades had produced. She walked closer to her daughter and placed a quick kiss over her forehead, wrapping her on a half hug as she asked if she had a nice ride back home.
Helen Abbott had once make boys her age turn around whenever she'd pass by in the hallways and had even been the object of interest of more than one wizard when she first started working at the hospital where she found herself rejecting each of their advances, informing them and sometimes reminding them, she was a married witch.
Now, lines around her eyes and across her prominent forehead stained what once had been called a pretty face and whenever someone looked her way they saw on her eyes the reflection of working long hours at the hospital and having raised three children when she was home.
Even after retiring from work two years ago, her face still gave the impression of always being tired.
However, whatever deterioration her face presented the rest of her appearance didn't show it. She could still fit into her wedding robe, which was worn whenever occasions such as christenings or funerals turned up – not three pregnancies nor thirty years had altered her size in the slightest. Never a hair out of place, and although some white ones began showing here and there, she still kept most of its natural blonde in a neat cut which reached her shoulders, and she always wore it with a white, thin headband – that, Jane had picked up from her. Apart from that, her reflexes didn't represent those of a sixty three year old and the effort in catching a Quaffle today wasn't much different from when she used to play with her brothers in Scotland over forty years ago.
"Sort of" Jane shrugged, sitting down on one of the breakfast benches and taking off her scarf which her mother took from her hands and placed over the hanger in the living room "I had to share with Rue and Constance… so it was a bit boring"
"Quiet girls?" good natured Castor asked, as he pulled out two little yellow and green vials from the pantry and with the speed of someone who has been doing that sort of thing for years, drank them without even flinching and engaged himself back in the conversation before Jane could even come up with an answer to give.
He took the vials twice a day, every day, and had been doing so for eight years. One was for his heart, which had been weak after surviving dragon pox twice and dealing with the crooks and thieves in magical Britain. The green one wasn't as necessary and no doctor had prescribed it, but he took it anyway – his wife said it was good for his bones.
"Yup… and they also slept most of the way"
While not as chatty as Natalia and Jane could get, her classmates couldn't be considered anything near quiet, they liked talking as much as the next teenage girl. The particularity laid in the fact that they didn't like talking to her – and there was no way on earth she'd willingly admit that to her parents.
Rue Rowle and Jane took Arithmancy together and for over the past three years their little study sessions at the library had kept them getting good grades and making their parents proud. When they'd pass each other on the hallways, no matter who they were with (which often were their own best friends, those being Natalia and Constance) they'd stop and share a word or two about their upcoming exam or certain doubts they had about such and such subject – if they were particularly busy or their companions were particularly moody, they'd simply smile at each other. At parties they'd find themselves standing next to each other at some point, joking about things they'd forget as days passed.
Constance and Jane's non-academic related conversations rarely lasted more than two minutes and the longest one dated back to first year and insults had been used and it had partly contributed to Natalia's animosity towards the girl.
'Blood brothers: My Life Amongst The Vampires', rested on Jane's lap, showing her willingness to spend over 3 hours in silence and that being ignored supposed to her very little inconvenience. Her brief conversation with Rue about their holidays plans had been more than enough and when Constance gave one sneaky looks, putting an end to it, Jane had been sure she'd be finishing chapter eleven by the time they reached King Cross.
Unfortunately, that hadn't been the case.
After hearing a few hushed giggles, Jane began to feel the weight of two pair of eyes over her head. Decided to ignore it, she flipped a page of her book although she hadn't quite finished with the very detailed coffin description Mr. Anderson - author of the book, gave.
Constance elbowed Rue right in the ribs, and suppressing a curse and putting on a tight lipped-smile, the brunette stated: "So Jane, you're dating Potter"
Jane lifted her face slowly as she wore a light frown. What was she supposed to say back? It wasn't even a question and if it were, it'd be stupid, Rue Rowle knew well enough she was: they had talked about it several weeks ago and Rue admitted him being quite charming if he just would chose his company more carefully.
Still, the girls in front of her kept looking at her with a pair of smiles, expecting something.
Managing to put on a thin smile that never quite reached her eyes, Jane nodded.
Of course it wasn't as if she was ashamed of it – James was perfect in every way, except for the fact that he was a Gryffindor, but that could be overlooked. Besides, it wasn't as if their relationship was a secret; sure, they didn't spend that much time together if there weren't chances of Lily being around to see them, but people talked, and mostly everyone with a fine pair of ears knew they were boyfriend and girlfriend.
In fact, Natalia shared weeks ago, very diverted, that she had overheard a pair of Gryffindor third years express their annoyance towards Jane, clearly jealous. Jane who never experienced people having such feelings towards her dismissed the story almost immediately, but then James told her that Sirius had said the same thing, so there was no room for doubt.
She had to admit, at least to herself, the corners of her mouth twitched upwards that night in the safety of her bed, and she had to hold onto a pillow to suppress a shriek – after that she drowned the feeling straight away, a blush taking over her then tormented face, for it was a rather ill thing to feel proud about, but it was nice to feel it at least once in her life nevertheless.
"So you don't mind?" Constance quickly added, looking down on her and driving her away from that shameful yet enjoyable memory she'd never share with anyone.
"Mind what?
"That he's still obsessed over some mudblood, of course" she replied calmly, looking at her with fake pity and grabbing the ends of her blonde straight hair, putting half of her attention on them as she continued, with a voice that could've rivaled Mr. Binns': "You know, Evan saw them yesterday near the Astronomy tower… Potter couldn't keep his eyes to himself" she sneered, letting go of the hair and placing a delicate hand over her mouth "and he couldn't stop mentioning how nice her hair looked, and her robes… and everything that concerned her in general"
She sneered some more, and this time, Rue joined her with some chuckles while her eyes made a meticulous inspection of the floor.
Jane, on the other hand, could feel her cheeks going bright red. No, she had not known, and she didn't appreciate finding out this way, with no one to stand by side to help her bear the embarrassment – in fact, she wasn't sure she'd have liked to know at all.
She rested her view outside the window, focusing on Scotland's fields and wishing fervently that ride would be over soon and why not, the whole Easter break itself.
But her humiliation was not over yet, Constance couldn't be satisfied with that.
Not Rue or Jane knew of it, or anyone else in the castle for that matter but Constance Allingway herself, but the truth was, if she had to hear about 'how cute such and such look together!' one more time, she'd curse every single person in the castle, single or not. It had come to her understanding that everyone was getting what she wanted, Jane Abbott being one of many – not James Potter, of course, the boy was fit but almost as good as a blood traitor at this point.
The wizard who made her rage arise was Evan Rosier, to whom she had written love poems during the whole second half of first year and let them inside his bag when he wasn't looking; the wizard she talked about to her parents and sister about, even when they hadn't asked any questions; the wizard who had confirmed what she had always known, and that was, she hated Natalia Yaxley and whatever it was the cow had that appealed to him.
"I mean, of course you're not that much of an improvement, but still… picking a mudblood over you? If it weren't so funny, I'd feel bad for you" and then she started laughing again, a darkness in her eyes that represented how satisfied at herself she was.
Rue didn't join her this time, and instead offered Jane an apologetic smile when Constance's eyes were shut due to her laughter.
Jane said nothing back, and forced herself to endure the trip. Changing compartments was out of questions since there was nowhere else to go and it was likely she'd end up returning to the same place, enhancing her embarrassment.
As usually, silence became her best friend and with her eyes glued to the window she tried counting trees, counting seconds, and doing almost anything her mind allowed her to force those lingering tears back where they belonged, determined not to make an even bigger fool of herself.
The lack of response bored Constance, whose voice was now a muffled nightmare and soon she engaged herself with Rue into a conversation about how they'd be avoiding Easter Eggs this year, forgetting entirely about the girl in front of them and what an entertaining activity tormenting her was.
It was a shame she hadn't been able to share compartments with Simon and Hippolytus, not that there would have been much to talk with them if they had been able to sit together as they accustomed, considering the three of them could be pointed to be the quietest people in all Slytherin, which really explained why Natalia fitted so well among them. But at least she'd have felt comfortable around them and saved herself the wave of poison her classmates had thrown her way.
However, they were supposed to ride with the rest of the boys, to go over some final arrangements regarding their meetings – a subject Jane knew not much about, only what she had picked from Natalia, who also was one foot away from being completely ignorant on the subject.
A flowery cup of tea was placed in front of her and soon followed to teaspoons of sugar, and off she was from the terrible memories of the gloomy ride.
"Thanks mum"
Wrapping both hands around her drink to provide some warmth to her still cold hands, Jane wondered when exactly that subject would be brought up. Not that she wanted to talk about it, especially not after the recent information that had been so kindly provided with by her classmates, but it was only inevitable since after all, she was on the Abbott family's traditional tea-interrogatory they had every year each time she or her siblings came back home from school – according to her parents, they barely got to hear much from their letters and it was nice to do a general catch up before everyone got on with their holidays plans.
Looking up to see if she could find any other oddity in the room that might buy her some minutes of peace, and bingo: a newspaper clipping stuck over their pantry, where a picture of her brother from last year riding a broom could be seen – she almost smiled to herself, since she had just come up with a subject that would probably lead to hours of non-embarrassing talk.
"So is Pete bringing his girlfriend over?"
Her mother's expressionless face turned into a frown as she swallowed the tea, but her father's always cheerful façade wasn't altered on the slightest, and so he answered first.
"And her family, he's bringing them tomorrow"
"They're Americans living in London" Mrs. Abbott added quietly, putting down her cup.
To anyone else, such a comment would've passed unnoticed, especially by the monotone tone in which it was said (and that was how Helen Abbott said most things) but if you knew her well, you'd know Helen Abbott despised Londoners and like most British citizens, she disliked Americans.
Even going over to her sister in law's apartment, which was located on a busy avenue of the big capital, supposed a great displeasure for the Abbott matriarch.
It was an affliction no one else in the family, but Helen's own father, Mr. Fairfax, shared or understood. Helen explained countless of times, but had stopped recently, since people had stopped asking, that it was the way they carried themselves, as if they were much better than other people just because they lived in a big city - which on her opinion, was nothing special, one could find everything they wanted outside of London.
"Oh, so it looks serious, doesn't it?"
"It looked serious with Sarah as well, and that girl Monica, and so it seemed with Fiona…" her mother shrugged "but who am I to tell"
"But he never brought their families home" Mr. Abbott added, taking a sip of his tea.
To that, his wife didn't answer, eying him through her own cup.
Jane could to some point understand her mother's discomfort.
Although Helen Abbott would never admit it to anyone but herself, Peter was her favourite child, and basing an opinion on how long his numerous pasts relationships had lasted, most people who liked imagining other people's future saw the boy going over to momma's for pudding at 40.
In fact, even after he moved out when he turned nineteen to pursue a career in Quidditch, he still came back to his family home most weekends, and stayed for most of the holidays if there were no plans with his friends to go somewhere else.
This time was different. Five months and still holding on to the same girl was a first in Peter Abbott's books. Jane hadn't met her yet, but she supposed she'd be pretty – all her predecessors were, despite lacking of brains or basic common sense, so there was no reason why this one should be different.
"Speaking of-
"Is Emily awake?" Jane let out quickly on a high pitched voice, both feet standing.
"Eh… yes, she's-
Words probably kept coming off her father's mouth, but she couldn't hear them since she was running upstairs, escaping the talk about a first boyfriend who wasn't even really her boyfriend but was still making a fool of her by flirting with other girls in school.
Her cup of tea was left almost full, and Helen Abbott picked up and threw what was left on some pots of plants she kept by the kitchen's window, with a roll of eyes.
When Jane was born, Helen thought the third wouldn't be much different from the previous two… but Merlin was she mistaken. The girl, although she loved her with all her heart, was confusing to her, and she feared she never got to understand her.
When she found out she was dating James Potter, the son of two of her closest friends and some of the kindest people she knew, she saw Jane in new light, not much different than Emily had been when she started her first relationship in fourth year with a Hufflepuff boy who had crushed her heart over a letter on Christmas break, making the young witch run to her mother's arm with desperation; she saw the opportunity of having certain conversations about dating life, like she had done countless of times with Peter.
Yet, it all felt the same.
Oblivious to her mother's grim thoughts, Jane made it to her shared bedroom with more air coming off her mouth than inside her lungs. With a quick nock on the white door, she grabbed the suitcase that had been left next to the door and waited for her sister to allow her in.
"Yes?" A delicate voice asked.
She was laying on her stomach, with a quill and a book under her nose – the red flowery comforter wrinkling under her weight. A sigh escaped her mouth seeing that who had entered the room wasn't her mother, because Helen was always nagging about not writing while in bed because ink was very tricky to get off: 'we have desks meant for that' She'd mutter time after time.
The sunlight that entered from the window in between both beds only accentuated Emily Abbott's beauty, with her brown hair acquiring an almost reddish tone under the warmness of the afternoon, and that almost made Jane let out a sigh.
When she entered the room with half a smile and her cheeks slightly red from the rush of before, the brunette broke into a smile, and dropping the quill almost as quickly as her legs touched ground, she ran towards where her little sister stood, green suitcase still in hand.
"Jane!" Emily hugged her by the neck, effusively. They were both the same height, but while the youngest had the physical complexion of a stick, Emily had curves in all the right places and had so ever since she reached puberty "I missed you so much!"
The blonde couldn't help but smile at how genuine it really sounded, and with some struggle ran her free hand around her waist as she allowed that particular roses smell her sister's perfume provided, invade her.
"Did you just get here?" she asked, breaking the hug but standing close.
Walking over her own bed, the one with the light blue patched flowery comforter, and dropping the suitcase over it, Jane began to undertake the arduous job of getting rid of the runes that guarded her belongings – she hadn't even taken the subject at school, but Hippolytus who had excelled at it, had taught both Natalia and Jane how to perform a rather simple trick that'd keep thieves and curious eyes away from their belongings – they didn't even need to use their wands.
She replied with the distraction only someone who was doing something far more complicated than what their brains were able to understand would have: "About ten minutes ago, I was at the-
"Ah, at the horrorview" Emily laughed, and Jane's own lips twitched.
That was a nickname Peter had attributed their parents little ritual his first summer back from Hogwarts. At the time the sisters had been young girls and found the nickname hilarious, not only because everything was funny at that age, but also because at eleven, their elder brother was the coolest person they knew of, and everything he said seemed beyond fascinating.
"Yes, I managed to escape before-
But she bit her tongue as a quick reflex, aware she was bringing up the exact subject she had ran off from just a few minutes ago. Also, she had just messed up her third and last rune, which meant she'd have to start all over again and her previous process was ruined.
Emily watched her sister with curiosity.
"Before what?"
Biting on her lip and avoiding all sort of eye contact, she muttered: "You know… before that"
Leaving her spot, the brunette sat down next to the suitcase, and Jane had no other choice but to quickly look at her. Emily wore a kind smile and her eyes denoted nothing but understanding. She always knew what to say – out of all her friends, and she had lots of them, she gave the best advice and a few years ago, when Jane was younger, she wouldn't have dreamed of making any decisions without consulting it with her sister first.
"It'll be embarrassing… especially with dad, you know he's going to make jokes" she chuckled, but continued with her sweet tone of voice "especially because it's James out of all people…" dubious whereas she should ask or not, but deciding she would anyway, she proceeded "How did that happen, by the way?"
Feeling her cheeks go redder than fire, she shrugged, trying to rest importance to it and calm herself down: "It just happened…"
Her sister's face dropped by the vague response.
Out of everyone in the family, with the exception of her father, Emily was the one who always tried to include her, to catch up with her, she even wrote once a month, and she wasn't even angry at Jane for not trying equally as hard… in fact, she wasn't even reprimanding her for not telling her about her supposed relationship and having to find out about it by a letter mix-up.
So Jane sighed and swallowed her own embarrassment, elaborating a bit more just as Emily was getting ready to get up and either go downstairs or to her own bed.
"We got paired together for Transfigurations and… I don't know, we just started talking more and… "she finished it up with a shrug.
"Oh Merlin, I'm so happy for you, Jane!"
The same had returned to her face, and her words were so sweet that helped Jane to forget about her upsetting experience on the train, and for a while, it felt nice to talk to someone else about him. Natalia knew it was all a set-up but with Emily she could talk and talk about James as if it were all real, as if he actually loved her, fancied her at least, and it wasn't just a plot to get the girl of his dreams to notice him.
A click on her suitcase indicating she had translated the last rune correctly only helped to busted up her mood further up, and as she took each single piece of clothing than belonged to her out and placed it neatly over the bed, she continued chatting with her sister.
They talked for over thirty minutes. Emily would ask a question and then listen to her little sister's answer, her smile never leaving her face – partly because she was truly happy Jane, who sometimes seemed so misguided by the friendships she made in Slytherin, found someone like James Potter; and also, because they were finally talking, having an actual conversation, like it used to be.
Emily was just telling her about how there were no boys that interested her at the moment, when their mother broke into the room without knocking, as she usually did, carrying a set of clean towels for the newly arrived.
Raising an eyebrow with interest upon her daughters' sudden quietness but saying nothing, she left the towels over the blue bed and departed the room, and as she was closing the door the sound of giggles that could only belong to little girls who had recently stopped being little girls, made her smile.
For the following hours Jane gave herself the pleasure of rearranging the place of most items in her room – books, which used to be located on Alphabetical order, where now grouped according to colour; she boxed up that potions starting kit she had gotten for a Christmas when she was eight and that had been accumulating dust for years over her shelves due to sentimental value; went over the notes she kept in her drawers from previous years at Hogwarts, and checked for any that could be useful for current times. By the time she was moving her summer clothes out from the attic to bring to her closet she began to feel the enthusiasm of being productive wash off, and decided she'd continue with the work in the morning.
Emily was going over some old school pictures that Jane had brought down from the attic along with her clothes, and she giggled and saw each one of them with fondness, even the ones where she wasn't on – she'd call out for Jane every two or three pictures, and she'd point of something and the two would chuckle and bring up an old memory.
The oldest Abbott would never know it, but Jane was incredibly grateful for what she was doing – keeping her entertained; saving her from all the thinking that threatened to attack her as soon as she was left on her own, with nothing to do but to think what a pathetic liar of a witch she was.
In the morning of Easter Sunday Jane woke up early and found pleasure in seeing her sister and her parents were still fast asleep, and would continue to be so for at least another hour. If there was one thing she was never able to get at Hogwarts, that'd be the freedom of solicitude, and at home, although not absolute, it could be archived from time to time, especially for early birds, and she happened to be the biggest one.
Still on her pajamas, she made her way downstairs and after writing Natalia and update on the very embarrassing talk she had with her family the previous night about James, and also mentioning the altercate with Constance and Rue – not as detailed, to save herself of the pity her friend would feel for her if she were to know; she gathered all the ingredients she'd need to make breakfast.
Six slices of her dad's freshly baked bread he made the previous night right when they were all already in bed; put on the kettle for the coffee and tea – Emily and Helen preferred coffee in the mornings, Castor did too, but he wasn't allowed to have any because of his heart; Jane was happy with the chamomile tea; she got eggs out and the flour, decided to make some pancakes. Cooking without magic, although it took longer, was much more relaxing and took her mind out of things, and she needed that on that morning.
She had just placed the last pair of forks over the white wooden table when an already dressed and completely pulled together Helen Abbott made it downstairs, ready to start the day with a headband over her hair and shoes on her feet – a minute behind her, there was Castor, still on his camel bathrobe, blue pajamas and slippers, looking as if all he had done was splash some water on his face.
"That smells wonderfully, darling" he mentioned, not even with his two feet in the kitchen yet and yawning openly. "Happy Easter, by the way"
Jane didn't answer and simply smiled, although he couldn't see her.
Helen placed a hand on her shoulder and kissed her cheek, saying "It looks very good as well. Thank you, Jane, and happy Easter"
The teen smiled, muttered a congratulations for Easter and continued flipping the pancakes while keeping an eye on the bacon. The rule in the house was that whoever woke up earlier made breakfast if they counted with the time to do so and when Jane was home, she was always the first one to rise and arguably, the best one at it.
Emily Abbott came downstairs a few minutes before her father offered to go fetch her. Just like her father and sister, she was still on her night clothes and slippers and her hair was still neatly braided in two, so she hadn't brushed it yet. To give her credit, Emily only had breakfast on her pink bathrobe during the weekends – any other day, she'd have been just as polished as Mrs. Abbott herself. On her hands there were two light pink mugs with a bit of tea leftover from the night before.
She kissed both her parents on the cheek, muttering a quick 'Good morning', and without knowing, she imitated her mother's exact actions when going over to Jane and placing a hand over her right shoulder, to lean in and place a peck on her cheek.
Such action didn't go unnoticed to Helen, whose blue eyes sparkled with the sort of joy one finds on knowledge no one has caught up on yet, except for oneself.
All those who could perform magic levitated the food to the table, and soon everyone was sitting down wherever they found a place, since none of them had a determined seat, with the exceptions of Helen, who always sat at the head unless at a formal dinner, and Peter who refused to sit anywhere near Emily, since he claimed her morning breath was worse than a dragon's.
Since Peter wasn't there that morning, and Castor had chosen to place his cup next to his wife's, both sisters were left to sit one next to the other.
"I had missed your breakfasts Janie!" she said, eating a small piece of pancake "You're the only one who knows just how to make them fluffy enough"
"Only one who know how to make them fluffy?!" their father cried diverted, looking at his eldest with the same mischief in his eyes a little boy would have and making everyone else in the table crack with laughter "Thanks for letting me know, I'm sure she can owl you your breakfast every morning when she leaves for school again"
"You'll deny breakfast to your own daughter?"
"The daughter who doesn't appreciate my pancakes? Yes, It think that'd be an appropriate response to that wee attitude" Amos laughed, throwing a piece of toast inside his mouth as he leaned against his chair. "What do you say, Janie? Should we let her starve? Or will you be providing for your cruel sister?"
Jane giggled and was about to answer, but Helen Abbott, who had managed to observe the whole conversation with nothing but a thin smile, decided she had something to say.
"I doubt Jane will have the time, now that she has a boyfriend" her tone was trying to be playful, and if one tried hard enough could see that.
She was hoping her daughter would appreciate the comment. There was a minimal amount of information about her life that her youngest ever allowed her to know, hence the seldom conversations the two would have and now that she had been graced with a rich conversation during dinner on Saturday night despite Jane's carmin cheeks, she thought perhaps things would change.
It had been her idea to bring Jane back for Easter, after all.
Although she didn't encourage it, if her children ever asked to stay at school during the Holidays she'd allow it, as she had done for Peter when he stayed twice during the Easter holidays to work on his Quidditch routines, after he had been named captain; or when Emily was working on her OWLS and preferred to stayed and study without the distraction of cousins and siblings during Yule.
Jane had never requested to stay before, and she'd have allowed it this time, after all it was only Easter and they never threw big celebrations for them, but when a bright eyed and wide smiled Mrs. Potter paid her a visit with the news both of their children were on a relationship she felt unable to stop wondering how had she failed as a mother to Jane for her not to tell her about something as important as a first boyfriend. So with Euphemia's promise to follow her example (since James always spent Easter in the castle) Helen wrote to her daughter to have her back for those two weeks, and she promised herself she'd try hard to revert whatever damage there was on their mother-daughter relationship.
But Jane's increasing blushing and determination to avoid her very own face that morning indicated that even comments like that one, weren't enough. Desperation was visible on her eyes and extending her hand out for the red plate in front of her, she turned to her sister, ignoring her mother's sad attempt to create a relationship between the two of them.
Castor Abbott sighed slowly, procuring no one noticed, and settled a loving hand over his wife's, whose eyes didn't even look his way and instead were driven to her cup of coffee.
"Bacon?"
"No thanks, I'm a vegetarian. Sorry I didn't mention it"
"A what?"
"My thoughts exactly, Janie" her father chuckled, removing his hand from over his wife's and extending it in front of him, over the plate "Me, on the other hand, am not a vegefeediang and will be having some of those, thank you very much"
With a puzzled look still on her face, Jane did as instructed without removing her eyes from her sister, who smiled diverted and rolled her eyes at their father's speech.
"It means I no longer eat animals" she said, turning to Jane "My friend Jeff, you know his mother's a muggle and she's been a vegetarian for five years and says it has totally changed her life" she was now explaining to her parents, her eyes traveling from one to the other and each one of them, trying to focus on the one who looked less convinced – which happened to be both.
"Heard that?" Castor laughed, looking at Jane especially "Next thing you know, muggles will be saying not eating eggs is a thing." Then he added on a grimmer and slightly more dramatic voice: "Or chocolate"
"Oi hush, dad" Emily said, shaking the butter knife on her hand and turning once again to her sister, her tone much sweeter "Anyway, so I've been off meat for about two months now"
Her sister, a smart witch from a good family wasn't consuming meat because a muggle woman she didn't even know said it was good? Things must've been worse than she thought if those creatures had that much influence over the magical community – perhaps people at her house were right when they said things should be handler more harshly… perhaps it was time to admit it.
Jane was truly at loss of words, but luckily for her, their mother chipped in.
"In all seriousness, Emily, your father and I don't think it's a safe eating habit and are preoccupied, perhaps you should consider…"
Mr. and Mrs. Abbott tried in vain to get their daughter change her mind over her food choices and the eldest Miss. Abbott numbered in vain many reasons to why what she was doing was perfectly harmless and if anything, should be followed by the rest of the family as well.
Apparently, as she told Jane later in their room, they didn't give her so much rubbish about it on a daily basis, mainly because they were at work for most meals and the subject simply wasn't brought up, but whenever it did come up in their conversations what she had just witnessed during breakfast was a perfect example of what went on most times. "They won't understand me and I won't stop doing something I feel good about just because they say so. I'm twenty years old" after that she had switched the subject again to one of their cousins, in fear her sister would also voice out an opinion contrary to her own.
Since Easter dinner demanded so much thought on her part, she didn't get much time to think about the fact that her very own sister was following muggle tendencies, and although she was glad of that, the other things in which she had to think about weren't idle and more than once felt herself having a headache.
Helen Abbott divided the house in three areas, assigning one to each girl present in the house: she the first floor, Jane the second and Emily the garden and attic. Castor Abbott, who liked cleaning as much as the next person was let off because he was in charge of the cooking for later that night - he enjoyed doing it so as much as Jane did and the quality of his outcome was just as good, but he was faster at it because of his wand and lack of extreme delicacy when breaking eggs.
According to Mrs. Abbott, everything had to be perfect for when their guest arrived, whatever that elevated number of people might be. So far they were sure to count with the presence of the Sharps, an old couple that the Abbott children remembered to be of advanced age even when they were supposed to be young – they liked them all very much and always brought the sort of candy old people liked to buy and doted on them because they had no children of their own. There were also the Potters, guests of honors at this point, and that'd make three more to the list. What caused uncertainty were Peter's guests since he had forgotten to mention how many of them would be staying.
As a result of Pete Abbott's mistake, everyone had to do double the work just in case, and while doing that, double their headaches.
Castor had to cook twice the amount he'd normally make and by the end of it his fingers were left red and with a couple of blisters around; any leftovers he'd take to the families who lived two kilometer west in the medium sized town the family rarely visited.
Jane who not only had to scrub the floors in the corridors and clean the windows of the main rooms, also had to clean up the spare one they kept for guests and its bathroom, which hadn't been used since her grandfather came over for visit, and that had been at least two years ago for Felix Fairfax refused to travel anywhere overseas, in fears he'd die outside his beloved Scotland - It was fair to say, two years of disuse didn't make her job any easier and made her view herself as the unluckiest of them all.
After four hours of non-stopping hard work, all the dusts stains on her face and the frizzy hair had left Jane in such a state that the minute her mother saw her, when she went down to grab a glass of water, she ordered her to go into the bath right that minute.
She had just spent over four hours cleaning most of their house for the most part of the day, after having made breakfast for the whole family and rearranged her room the previous day, only to have a dinner with people she didn't care about, such as Peter's guests or people she didn't want around, like James Potter. A dinner where people would talk about a subject that embarrassed her; a subject for which she had been mocked rightfully by her housemates just two days ago; because it was pathetic of her to agree to do a thing as such; because it was fake and she wanted it to be real .
Naturally, her mother's reaction upsetted her and she barely managed to smile when her slightly sweaty but always smiley father called for her attention and pointed at the enormous carrot cake he had made which everyone knew was Jane's absolute favourite.
It took a lot of her willpower to convince herself not to say anything back. Yes, she could've yelled at her mother: "I was going anyway", but what'd have that done for her? Nothing good, that was for sure. It'd have just make it seem as if she was putting on an attitude over nothing, as if she was a troubled child, as if she was what everybody believed she really was.
Besides, one couldn't really blame Helen for her tone, as it appeared as the stains of dust on her own forehead showed she hadn't had an easy day either.
Upon Natalia's insistence, Jane had agreed, or more like been forced to take about four different dresses, two sweaters and a few skits that belonged to her, and although most garments looked slightly odd on her thinner and taller frame, they were all so lovely and made of such nice quality that she saw herself unable not to smile as she tried them on in her room, standing in front of the mirror and turning from side to side.
It wasn't that Jane didn't have nice clothes, she was grateful towards her parents for always providing for her in that way, and unlike many other young siblings, she wasn't bounded to wear all of Emily's discarded clothes – most of them were passed on to her, but she still go her fair share of brand new sweaters and shirts every once in a while. Still, her clothes as she had so many times pointed out, were beyond boring and plain and Natalia's silence whenever she'd heard that sentence only confirmed it more.
It so happened to be that Castor and Helen Abbott were nothing like Bruno and Petra Yaxley – while Natalia had freedom to choose how many clothes she fancied, no price too high or style too loud, Jane's parents would have never consented for her to waste a quarter of the money Natalia spent on clothes; for them being a slave of fashion was foolish and not something that should be encouraged – so Jane picked sensible clothes that could be worn for most events and that wouldn't turn heads her way as she passed by. The few formal clothes she owned had been worn so many times that mending had to be done to some of them.
And who was she kidding? Even if her parents had allowed such licentiousness would her lack of sense of style allowed her purchase anything that went beyond the adjectives of 'alright'?
"You must take this one! Red looks so pretty against your skin; doesn't it Matilda?" Natalia had said as she staked a red wool cardigan inside Jane's already full suitcase. Perhaps its best feature was the little gold charms in the middle. Had it not been as pretty and hadn't she thought at the time she'd need any help she could get to make herself look pretty for James, Jane would've told Natalia it wasn't necessary.
Now she couldn't care less what James Potter thought of her. In fact, everything would go just merry if he'd choose not to even look at her direction.
As expected, all of Natalia's dresses and skirts were left unworn, since they were so short on her it wouldn't be anything near appropriate to wear them for such an event as Easter, or any event with her parents present, whatsoever. Instead, she decided her light blue dress, which had been worn four times already, would do just fine – it was simple but one could dare call it pretty; paired with the cardigan, which she thought had only seen Natalia wear once before, she looked as good as one should look for Easter dinner.
Her eyes were glued to the mirror and her narrow hips twisted slightly from one side to the other as her hands ran through her recently brushed hair which she had decided to keep loose with the usual thin hairband, this time red, to match the rest of her outfit.
From time to time her eyesight would switch towards the vanity table over which most of Emily's products were placed. There were not many of them, Natalia had at least twice that amount at school and at her house, whenever she had been over for visits, Jane had seen obscene quantities in her room. Still, no matter how little Emily had, she had more than Jane and they seemed just as pretty and foreign to her as Natalia's did. It wasn't that she was uninterested on cosmetics and the little faux happiness it could provide from time to time, but she had never seen the point on buying her own, since she could always use Natalia's in the castle, and when she was at home there was rarely any reason for her to use them at all.
It so happened that during one of those times she spent a little too much time staring at her sister's beauty potions and perfumes, the owner walked through the door with a towel wrapping her head and a bathrobe against her body.
Her blue eyes followed her sister's lost gaze and a smile took over her face.
Aware that her sister was observing her, Jane restored her attention to the reflection in the mirror and noticed her cheeks go red. Why was being caught staring at something as innocent as cosmetics embarrassing was a mystery even to herself, and to think about it made her cheeks glow even brighter with shame.
Emily said nothing, and instead passed her way to pick up some of her clothes, hiding a smile which still lingered. In few seconds she had settled her mind on giving her sister a makeover, something she hadn't done ever since they were kids and convincing Jane to do things with her wasn't as difficult. She was aware that in order to fulfill her goal, she'd have to proceed slowly, as if walking over eggshells.
"That's a pretty cardigan, Jane" she mentioned once she was able to pay more attention to her sister's appearance. "When did you get that?"
"Oh, Natalia gave it to me" the girl answered, running her fingertips over the hair around her face. The blushing that had adorned her face just a few minutes ago now completely dissipated.
The mention of the school friend made Emily's curious shine follow the same destiny as Jane's blushing; now, a weary glimpse took its place, and no matter how the brunette tried to conceal it by looking down at her arms as she applied some moisturizing potion over her never dry elbows, Jane was fully aware of it.
She had never said it out loud, but in the summer of 1975, when Natalia Yaxley had spent a weekend at the Abbotts household after successfully finishing their fourth year, Emily was able to finally give a name to the reason why letters from Hogwarts came seldom; why Jane hadn't jumped at the opportunity of visiting the town just the two of them, on their own, after many years of begging their parents to do so; why her little sister barely felt like her little sister at all.
In those two days she witnessed the influence she had over her sister; she felt repelled by the sort of things they laughed about but not once was she able to voice it out, in fears that'd only drive Jane further away
The sad truth was that with any luck the sisters could see each other no longer than three months a year and their different personalities didn't allow their relationship to flow as naturally as one would wish. With Natalia Yaxley, on the other hand, Jane spent the rest of the year and even during holidays she'd spend afternoons and sometimes periods as long as a week in the Yaxley manor or hanging out in places such as Diagon Alley.
"Well, that's nice of her"
Emily gave a smile that never reached her eyes and Jane decided to ignore it and kept on working on her hair and returned to her James Potter related train of thoughts and how she planned on ignoring him as much as she'd be able to, considering their families would be there expecting them to do exactly the opposite.
Jane Abbott stood in one corner of the kitchen with her arms crossed over her chest and with an expression on her face similar to the one she wore on seldom occasions when forced to watch her brother's Quidditch matches, only sourer and less inclined to fake a smile now and then. She wouldn't had been so miserable had the other people around her looked a bit less happy than they felt – why was it that she never was satisfied with what other people found enjoyable?
When Mr. and Mrs. Sharp arrived at six o'clock she had greeted them as her parents minded the oven and had engaged herself in a conversation with the old couple and her sister, but no compliments they paid her or boxes of Turkish Delight they brought her managed to make the corners of her mouth to switch up into a real smile, one that'd come so easily for Emily that it was almost ridiculous.
The squeeze Mrs. Potter had given her when giving her a hug as she chuckled; the wink Mr. Potter had paid her; the several questions her brother's new girlfriend, Lorelei, had asked her in order to get to know her, which at any other occasion would've made her feel important and appreciated, did little to alleviate how miserable Jane felt.
When James Potter saw her, he stood in front of her looking as if he was seeing her for the first time – her blonde hair had curls in the ends, making it shorter but looking much softer and dreamier; her red jumper made her white skin lose that milky aspect it sometimes was associated with, and instead it seemed delicate and something worth staring at for days; her sometimes boyish appearance which she inherited from her father seemed weak under the slight makeup.
James pushed the bridge of his glasses up as he smiled charmingly her way.
Hadn't Lily Evans presence remained attached to the back of Jane's mind, she'd have thrown a grateful glance at Emily, whose wand and products she had to thank for such an outstanding state.
All the adults were greeting each other and pretending to be absorbed in their own welcoming and festive conversations, but from the corner of their eye they were all starting at them, waiting to see what they'd do. So they kissed each other on the cheek – it had beebeen James' initiative and Jane hadn't even moved from her spot, her arms stiffening when the boy placed his warm hands over them as he leaned over.
A general sound which expressed tenderness was heard synchronously and it made both kids' cheeks turn bright red, for different reasons. Even the people who were not familiarized with the two of them, those being Peter's girlfriend her family, the Sanders, glanced at the two of them while smiling.
"You look very pretty, Jane" he had let out when placing his cheek against her own which was not only soft but smelled of something he couldn't quite put a name on, but was mostly pleasant. "Happy Easter"
His long sleeved shirt shaped his biceps and other arm muscles nicely and the recently acquired pink over his cheeks accentuated that warm hazel colour of his eyes which not even his pair of glasses could hide. His curly hair wasn't as wild as it could get, but that should be attributed to Mrs. Potter's wand and determination, and by the way some of the curls were starting to move out of place, it was to be expected that by the end of the night his untidy self.
Yes, she could've easily said something back – and it would've been most appropriated if she had indeed, but all she managed to do was give him a nod since it was likely no one but her had heard what he said and no one but him should find her lack of response odd.
Not one single kind word or gesture towards James Potter would come out of her body that night and she'd see for it to happen.
"Happy Easter, James. I'll be back in a minute"
With pursed lips and determination, she marched towards the kitchen, followed by the curious gaze of those who were around them and counted on the high school sweethearts reunion to be much more effusive and jolly than it actually was.
For the rest of the evening she gravitated mostly around circles involving all the Mr.'s in the room. Men tended to ask less questions than their wives and since Jane was particularly disinclined to answer any their companionship seemed rather ideal. Whatever conversation they'd have it'd be directed to businesses, the state of the ministry and other manly topics of which Jane knew little about and no one expected her to know anything about.
After having escaped Mrs. Potter and her own mother by pretending not to see how desperately the two of them were gesturing and waving their hands at her so she'd join them next to the music box, she took refuge next to her father, Mrs. Sharp and Mr. Sanders who at the moment were discussing how their newest Minister of Magic was completely unfit for his position.
James Potter approached her with two glasses in his hand – hadn't Mrs. Sharp figure hidden him, Jane would have gladly walked towards where her brother and Lorelei Sanders were, holding hands and looking at each other as if they were the only two people in the whole room.
However, he was very close now and escaping him would've brought her more problems and question than staying.
"Can you believe we're the only ones who have to settle for pumpkin juice?" James chuckled, extending one glass her way.
Castor Abbott sent James a quick encouraging smile and allowed one eye to focus on his younger daughter as he kept just enough of his attention on his current conversation.
Out of all his children Jane was always the one with fewer friends, the less confidence on herself and more apprehension at starting conversations of any sort with strangers – so he always worried about the sort of people she chose to have around. He didn't want his daughter to be lonely, but he also didn't want her to be familiarized with the wrong sort of crowds, and given the uprising hate crimes during the last couple of years in the wizarding world, Castor's worry increased even more, especially considering most wizards who performed such acts came from Slytherin.
James Potter starting a relationship with his daughter not only proved that Jane was like any other witch her age, on principle at least, but also that he could start thinking less about the uncertainty of his youngest' future.
Jane took the pumpkin juice only because not doing so would result on raised eyebrows from her father and those others around her, which also at some point, lead to discussing a topic she had no interest on even thinking of.
When they were standing next to each other, Castor chuckled and made the suggestion he and those above eighteen should leave the teenagers not to bore them to dead.
Mrs. Sharp winked an eye Jane's way and said: "You're lucky you have such a laidback dad! Mine didn't allow me and Bert to be in the same room without at least three other people". Then she placed a hand over the girl's shoulder and on a lower voice but not low enough for other people not to hear, added: "Then again, I wasn't as well behaved as you are"
They left laughing and commenting on young love as they went to the other side of the room, where their wives and husbands stood and soon they all began talking about the good old days and their own parents and their own first boyfriends and girlfriends.
James followed Mrs. Sharp with merry eyes for a few seconds, a crooked smile on his face as he turned back to Jane and completely oblivious to her apprehensiveness to spend a second alone with him, he asked between brief giggles: "What do you reckon she implied with that?"
Jane looked to her right and then to her left, trying to find anything out of place that'd allow her to leave the conversation without looking absolutely neurotic – sadly, she found none, so all there was left to do was to bare it for a few seconds until she could excuse herself and go waste her time somewhere else.
"I don't know" she shrugged, taking a sip of her drink.
"I think I do and I'm not sure I want to" said he, chuckling "Can you even imagine Mrs. Sharp at our age? I don't think I have any memories of her not being old"
"She's not that old"
Where did that come from? Mrs. Sharp was old and as James said, had always been. Jane knew that and had thought about it plenty of times before, but somehow her anger towards him was expressing itself by contradicting him and she had to admit, it felt nice. James Potter could've said dragons flew and she'd have dueled him until he admitted they actually swam.
He raised a brow: "Come on, she's over eighty. At least"
Once again, she shrugged but this time refused to answer. Instead, she caught sight of her father walking towards the kitchen, surely to check the chicken one last time before it was time to be served.
"Excuse me"
Taking a hold of the cup that was extended back his way, instinctively, James observed how she marched away, not even waiting to be sure he had wrapped his fingers around it correctly and safely.
She didn't even look back once, so she missed his wide eyes and half open mouth, an expression of pure concern. He saw her entering the kitchen and place a skinny hand over her father's shoulder, as she helped him do the job one man would've been perfectly fitted to do himself.
Mr. Abbott smiled and said something, and as most things he said it ended with the other person breaking into a fit of laughter. James watched as Jane whose lips only alteration that night while with him had been when she pursed them; have to cover her mouth with a hand as her eyes squinted into lines of intoxicating joy.
When his mother waved for him to approach her and her friends and asked him to tell them about his grades and Quidditch successes as she giggled with her arm wrapped around his, all James managed to say was 'Yes, it's all going swell'. When Pete and Castor Abbott cornered him to talk about Quidditch he found that although his heart was set on it, he wasn't enjoying the conversation as much as he'd have during normal circumstances.
All he could think about was Jane and the possibility he might've done something to upset her, because as far as he had seen during the celebration, she seemed perfectly capable to hold conversations that lasted for longer than five minutes with everyone who approached her – in fact, he had never seen her engage in a conversation with Mr. Sharp for quite as long.
He'd laugh when everyone around him did so, and from time to time he'd find himself nodding at whatever the other person was saying, but his eyes were always following her and when they weren't, he was thinking of her and what part he played on her behavior towards him. For the most part, people didn't notice his absent mindedness as he always made sure never to be trapped in a one to one conversation so it'd be easy to keep his mind occupied elsewhere, but when his efforts to disguise his lack of politeness failed, people would simply follow his vision line and they'd smile In tenderness as flashes of their own youth and firsts loves would play in their minds, not a single one of them having the nerve to feel offended.
He managed to catch her eye on two or three occasions and he'd always smile at her on an almost desperate way, but as soon as his foot would move one inch away and his mouth opened to articulate an apology to leave the company in which he found himself in, the coldness in her dark brown eyes would make him stand there, with a stupid look on his face.
He held onto what Mrs. Abbott had said when he had first arrived, after she kissed him on the cheek and wished him a happy Easter: "I saved you a seat next to Jane's" Surely sitting next to each other for over an hour would either get her to behave as she normally did around him, sweet and nice, that was or it'd confirm that there was in fact something that needed fixing on his part. Just thinking about how he'd approach the subject if things weren't solved at dinner time made his fingertips run to the bridge of his glasses and push it harshly towards his nose – he had seen his father have it with his mother on a few occasions, and even if Mr. and Mrs. Potter hadn't proceeded with those conversations privately where they knew he wouldn't listen, he would've still preferred to grab a broom and fly all the way to America if it meant he wouldn't have to witness such an uncomfortable exchange of words and glances. Funny thing, he never expected there would be even a slight possibility he'd have one of those with his fake girlfriend.
Jane was the last one to be seated as she kept on bringing food and casseroles from inside the kitchen while she maneuvered to avoid those hot plates that floated besides her by grace of her parents wands. Although to other people who didn't know of Jane's character, such an attitude might've seen to them as yet further evidence that she was vexed at him, James didn't think too much into it.
This wasn't James first holiday with the Abbotts and Jane's hands had always helped her parents with such things, even if there was no need for it. The thought made him smile, as he observed her delicately leave a pot of potato salad on the first table. It had always been such a natural thing, seeing Jane moving from one side to the other during family parties, bringing things and taking others away, attending to guests requests with no delay on her part. He had never stopped to consider how extremely odd that was among other girls his year, or in all Hogwarts to be honest. He himself had never visited any of the other girl's houses, but it was impossible not to hear the wealthiest of them speak about their house elves and those less affluent complain about how their mothers and fathers nagged them to work around the house during their holiday's time.
In fact, it'd only take taking a look at himself to see how exceptional Jane's attitude towards such little things as helping out her parents was.
During most of his childhood his household had counted with the help of a house elf, Glindy, gifted to his parents by their own parents on their wedding day. When Glindy died out of old age, he had been twelve, and his mother had mourned her death with such pain that she swore she would never get another house elf despite being more than financially capable to do so – she wouldn't be able to go through such torture again if anything were to happen to it. So Mrs. Potter did most of the house work up to this day and refused to take any help from either James or her own husband, insisting she enjoyed the chore work and besides, it was not much work when one had a wand – but on those days when she'd be too sick to do anything and his father would be away, although he would work diligently without complain, he counted the hours for his father to get back from work and take over.
When she sat her face was as expressionless and despite being exactly in front of James, whose eyes observed her intently in order to get her attention, she didn't look at him not even once, and instead she turned to her right to chat with Lorelei Sanders whose big eyes would from time to time search for Peter's and silently demand why had she been warned about Jane Abbott's shyness if there wasn't any.
"So Spellman isn't that bad" Jane said with a shrug as she drove a spoonful of smashed potatoes to her mouth "But I still doubt she'll make it to next year"
"Why's that?" asked Lorelei, squinting her eyes.
"Our DADA teachers never last over a year" Peter Abbott, who hadn't participated in the conversation until that moment answered "There's a different one every year"
The young woman who thought she was being mocked simply laughed lightly, but her sister, Ellen, who sat on James' right and whose younger age allowed her to believe what most wouldn't, turned to her left and asked: "Why?"
Her eyes were on him as if she didn't expect nor want anyone else but him to answer the question and everyone appeared to have caught up on it, for no one else was answering. So James cleared his throat and shrugged.
"I don't know. It has always been that way. Dad says the position was cursed" and then he took a gulp of his juice.
"That's very interesting" said Ellen as she rested her elbow on the table and placed her head over her hand, not taking her eyes off him for even a second.
She batted her eyelashes the way only fourteen year old girls can, and since most present at the table had either done it or had it done to them, an uncomfortable silence that lasted for almost a minute took place.
"Well, not really" said Emily, offering her sister a light smile and then trying to do the same with the younger girl "I'm sure you have similar things at Ivermorny"
"No" Ellen said, not even bothering on turning her face away from James' "Everything it's very boring there, especially the people! "she let out a sigh "You know the boys–
"So Jane!" Lorelei interrupted, her cheeks slightly pink and offering an apologetic smile "How did you and James meet"
Such a question couldn't have had more different reaction from those involved in it. While Jane's already solemn face darkened, James's took on a boyish glow that made him appear even more handsome and his hazel eyes shine with glee.
Not only was he escaping that very uncomfortable situation in which the young American witch had put him in, but he also was handed the opportunity to test the waters with Jane.
Ellen Sanders threw a severe look at her sister as she retired her elbow from the table.
"We've known each other since we were babies. Our mothers met when they were pregnant of us" he said with a charming little smile, shifting his gaze from Lorelai to Jane who wasted no time in looking down at her plate as he did so "We've been friends ever since"
"That's very cute, growing up with someone and ending up with that person" said Lorelei, her good humour partly restored "and have you always liked each other?"
This time, Jane and James reaction couldn't have been more in match. Pink cheeks, wide eyes and the the sort of look of someone who has no idea what to answer.
However, Peter Abbott made sure none of them actually had to say anything.
With a playful smile and a good natured chuckle that was a perfect imitation of his father's, he ran an arm around his sister's frame whose eyes widened with fear of whatever said chuckle meant. She even opened her mouth to answer before her brother could say a thing, but he was quicker.
"Janie has fancied James since I can remember. Seriously..." he chuckled again and everyone around him but those just named and Ellen Sanders, followed his example "I read her diary when she was like what? Ten?" he said, looking down at his sister's red face to check the facts and then he said in a high pitched voice: "It was all: James this, James that"
"I remember that" Emily added, her eyes filled with joy and her cheekbones high as she smiled. She had attributed her sister's red cheeks to her shyness, had she known her embarrassment was owed to something else, she wouldn't have said anything. "Jane had never been so angry at you. Even mum scolded at you!"
"Well she was just leaving the old thing around, what was I supposed to do?"
Laughter followed his sentence along with a soft and playful slap on the chest by the hand of his girlfriend who accused him of being a terrible brother. Soon people started bringing up old stories similar to the one Peter had just told and James and Jane were left to do whatever it was they were doing.
In James' case that was trying to catch her attention and perhaps make a joke.
In fact, when he did manage to catch her eye by accident he mentioned how he and the rest of his friends had once read Mary McDonalds' diary back in second year and she and the rest of her friends had cursed his arses. He chuckled at the memory and admitted it was deserved and that it taught them never to do such a thing like it again, but Jane didn't seem to find it funny and all she did was nod, not even trying to fake a smile.
There was no way for him to know if her ongoing attitude had anything to do with what her brother had said and the fact that she was such a shy girl or if it was still owed to whatever it was he had done and that had influenced her behaviour for most of the night.
"The sauce his very good" he mentioned after he ran over his place a piece of bread he had crushed among his fingers, throwing it into his mouth and smiling when the savouriness came in contact with his tongue.
Yes, he had complimented it because he desperately wanted to talk with Jane but that didn't erase the fact that the food, as it always was in the Abbott's gatherings, was just as good as his mother's.
However, the only reaction the honest and eager compliment had on Jane were a nod and pursed lips along with cold eyes that merely stayed a second on him only to escape towards the person to her left, to whom she offered a kind smile that James had been graced with countless of times before but by the looks of the evening, that was the past.
"So we still have our uncle in Pennsylvania" Lorelei explained as she ate carefully "Then again, we never saw him much when we lived there so I don't expect we shall visit anytime soon"
"But you want to, at some point?" Emily asked, leaning slightly across her brother so she could be closer to the girl to whom the question was directed.
She was sitting at the end of the table so it wasn't difficult for her to be part of any conversation that happened to take place and her personality allowed her to do so with extreme grace.
On this opportunity she had joined her sister and Lorelei, while Peter and Ellen had their own conversation about American Quidditch, a conversation in which during any other circumstances, James would've been more than engaged in, but at this certain time all he could do was half listen, as the rest of his energy and attention rested with the girls, on the wait there'd be one comment that'd allow him to say something clever or at least funny enough to get a reaction from her other than the ones he had been receiving.
"Of course. Believe me, I love England, everything's so wonderful and very fashionable but… you know what they say, there's no place like home"
"Yes, I think you're quite right. Everytime we go back to Scotland mommy seems so happy, right?" Emily said, looking at her sister for confirmation, getting a few nods.
"bet it's beautiful! I've never been." She then laughed and rolled her eyes "Five months in Great Britain and haven't been to Scotland, I know, I know. Pete tells me all the time"
"Well, we've never been to America and it's such an interesting place, so don't feel bad. Besides, you'll surely go with us to grandpa's house next New Years"
Lorelei blushed upon that comment but couldn't fight the smile that formed. Eyeing her and seeing he was still very much absorbed into his own conversation she cleared her throat and asked: "So would you like to go to America?"
"Oh, of course!. It has so much history and I've heard so many good things of it. Harlem Fitzpatrick, he's one of my favourite authors, well, he's American and most of his books are settled there"
"Ah yeah, I know Harlem. He wrote that book about the gremlin and the dove, right?"
"Yes! 'Crimes of duty" Emily's eyes were bright with joy as one of her favourite subjects was being discussed.
"Yeah, think I read it in second year or something" then, she turned to Jane "What about you? Ever want to visit America?"
"Hm… I don't know, I mean I'd love to but… uhm…-
Then, Peter whose conversational reflexes were just as polished as his Quidditch ones and who felt bad about his teasing earlier after Jane began ignoring him, left Ellen halfway through and answer and chipped in: "Janie gets really sick on boats"
"Oh, how so?"
"I just faint and that sort of things" Jane shrugged, aware that the whole table's attention was now on her since the other conversation had just been suspended by her brother - and among those whose attention she now had, there was James "I can't help it"
"Our aunt Violet is the same" added Peter, biting on a piece of bread with his elbow resting on the table "Dad says its because they're sensitive"
Everyone nodded and after a few seconds of silence it looked as if they were in that point when the topic would be switched to one almost completely different, but James sudden comment didn't allow that to happen.
"I didn't know that"
Jane shrugged and answered on a neutral tone and no one thought much of her answer except for Jane's supposed boyfriend: "It has always been that way, it's not that interesting"
His third and last attempt during dinner came with dessert.
James was scraping his fork against the tiny blue plate, trying to accumulate as much carrot cake leftover there was so he could ask for seconds and as soon as the small fork looked at the verge of maximum capacity he tossed it inside his mouth, smiling when the sugary mixture touched his tongue.
He looked up over to Jane and saw her cake was still half there and that while her bites were slow, delicate and not nearly as stuffed as his, she was enjoying it just as much as he did - which wasn't difficult to understand, that cake was very good.
So since that night finding common ground with Jane was the exception and not the norm, he decided it'd be possible for him to try again. Not only was he tired of talking to everyone else there but he desperately wanted her to say they were on good terms, that they were still friends and that there was nothing off going on.
"Such good cake"
Everyone else was wrapped in conversations of their own so it was clear he was talking to her, and if that didn't give it up the way in which his eyes would fall on her and nothing else must have, but she still didn't reply not raise her eyes from her own tiny yellow plate.
"Did you make it, Jane?"
Reluctantly, Jane rose her head and saw his cheerful face, dimples and cute sweater and for a second felt bad for deliberately ignoring him during the whole night, especially since he was so obviously trying to talk to her. He was a nice person, he probably was the nicest person she knew of… that's why it hurt so much.
She shouldn't be the one feeling guilty, not after all the things he had done out of recklessness, not stopping for a second to think about her. She didn't believe he acted the way he did towards Evans because he wanted to vex Jane, because it was his intention to make her look foolish, but he hadn't thought of the sort of repercussions this could have on her image and that carelessness was bad enough.
Besides, what kind of a friend asks another friend to do something like what he had asked her to do? Had he honestly thought her life was so boring, so empty that she could put everything real on hold just to pretend to be his girlfriend so he could get something he wanted? Of course he had been right, after all she had agreed almost immediately, but the fact that he hadn't cared that by asking for her to do that she would have to lie to friends and family, she wouldn't get dates of her own, she would be giving away her spare time she could've used in many other things… it hurt.
"No" her cold voice answered, and the she stabbed the cake with her fork without taking her eyes off his for a second, convincing herself that all that sweet and gelte facade he showed was nothing but, and she ate her cake bluntly.
Ellen Sanders, who had to be pulled into endless conversations with her sister so she would leave the poor boy alone, seized her opportunity and jumped into scene.
"Yes, it's so good. I love baking, do you James?"
"Eh… not really. Jane's a great cook tho"
"Right?" Emily joined with a bright smile "She usually helps dad with Easter dinner but we were sort of in a hurry today and she's too neat and clean to do it as fast as dad"
Jane smiled: "I'm not that neat"
"Oh please, the kitchen looks cleaner after you made a whole festin than it does after I pour myself a cuppa"
Everyone giggled, and Jane simply smiled semi grateful, after all it was one side of her character which wasn't as shameful like all the things involving her persona that had been discussed in the last hour.
"So your dad made it?" asked James.
"Yes, he wanted to make Janie's favourite"
James smiled as he looked at Jane, opening his mouth to mention something but the cold dead stare with which he was met forced him to give his intentions a second thought, and instead he simply nodded and excused himself to get another slice.
The poor boy had gotten the signs and decided on his attempts to get her to talk to him. For once he understood all those times he had been advised to 'give it some time' After all, his compliments and questions only seemed to aggravate Jane's state even further, so he decided for once, he'd leave the girl alone until she decided to go to him or at least show signs she wouldn't devour his head if he dared stand next to her.
So he decided to forget about the matter, after all, as Sirius said, girls were strange creatures and trying to understand them was similar to performing nonverbal spells, one never really managed to do it quite right and it was a task better performed when silent.
At the time being he found himself discussing this season's Quidditch with Peter Abbott and how the later aspired to be transferred to this bigger, better team by the end of the year where not only would he win more often, but he'd paid much more generously.
Quidditch, being a subject that James understood and loved, while being discussed with another person who also breathed Quidditch ever since he had gotten out of the womb and practised it for a living was of course not only entertaining but also enjoyable and considering all the problem James had encountered that day, it felt good.
However, no matter how much James wanted to hear about the possible transfer of Hoggie Costello, Peter's team trainer and quite the legend in British Quidditch History for being part of the three time winning English League for the World Cup from 1945, his eyes couldn't help but notice how Jane, who had been standing against one of the walls looking rather miserable without talking to anyone or having anyone talk to her, took off.
Sure, he had promised to follow the advice of many and 'let things work themselves out' but bad habits die hard, so giving Pete a friendly slap on the shoulder and hoping he'd be still willing to tell him about the Costello business after, he said: "Hey, would you excuse me? I just saw Jane and remembered I had to… uhm… tell her about… this thing-
He was cut off by the blonde's sharp laugh and by a slightly stronger but just as friendly pat on his own shoulder: "Go after her." then he frowned and playfully leaned towards James slightly shorter height with a hand still over his shoulder: "So should I give you the awkward big brother talk about what would happen if you hurt Janie?"
For a second, James's face lost all its healthy colour and turned as pale as a ghost. Such a threat he would've taken lightly, jokingly even if one considered they weren't actually dating but Jane's odd and unsympathetic state and the probability he was the one at blame, added to the fact that Pete Abbott was not only taller but also wider than him - and James took pride on having quite a muscular and fit frame, didn't allow him to treat Peter Abbott's words as what they were, a joke, which was confirmed by another laugh thrown by the older guy.
"Relax, Potter. She looks sweet but can defend herself. Believe me, that story I told earlier about me reading her diary? She took her revenge" he chuckled, and seeing the younger boy's face relax a bit he gave him another pat on the shoulder "Well, I'll go see if I can save Lory from mum and Mrs. Sharp"
James nodded and as soon as Pete Abbott walked towards the fireplace where his girlfriend seemed to struggle to keep up with the quick and sharp chattery of the older women, he followed Jane through the stairs, knowing everyone was far too entertained and happily influenced with alcohol enough not to think too much of it.
However, he did throw one last look over his shoulder towards his mother but smiled when he saw her eyes were squinted as she laughed hysterically along with her husband and some of the Americans. She'd have been the only one, apart from Mrs. Abbott perhaps, who would've called him off for following Jane upstairs, since not only was she much older than other mothers but she had also been raised by much older parents to whom condecorum seemed to be terribly important and condecorud dictated that what James was doing was wildly inappropriate.
How lucky was he that Euphemia Potter also happened to appreciate the taste of a well made butter brandy.
So he climbed the stairs two by two, his hand barely touching the wooden handle as the muffled voices of their families and friends faded in the background. Jane, on the other hand, could be barely heard at all.
Although he had been in the Abbott's second floor before back when he was a child and they'd play hide and seek, now there was only one candle that provided light for the whole wide hallway and those playdates had been back when Peter Abbott would still agree to play games with his little sisters and the little kid whose parents were friends with his.
"Jane?"
Upon the lack of answer he sighed and grabbed the lonely floating candle and careful not to put too much pressure on the waxy material and started walking around the room clockwise, softly knocking on doors.
A silent chuckle abandoned his lips when he reached the fifth and last door, the one next to the stairs and his last option. Had he decided to start checking from the left, he'd have found her much sooner, since written sloppy, green, big letters spelled her name in capital letters, over it, in red and in a slightly improved calligraphy, in cursive letters, it said 'Emily'. Around the names a bunch of butterflies of all primary colours that had clearly, just as the names, been drawn with the chubby fingers of young children, flew around the door with an old charm product of their loving parents.
James smiled, back when he had been young he remembered seeing those same butterflies and telling his parents how he wanted flying brooms and dragons painted on his door. That never happened because doing so would mean taking off the countless posters of the Lancashire Quidditch Team, and James' personal favourite player, Julian Tillyman.
With a sigh and begging Merlin for some luck, his knuckles knocked the door and he rested his forehead over the wood. Never before had he been in such a situation. True, he didn't understand Lily Evans and she often behaved similarly to the way Jane had been doing that night, if not blunter and less discreetly, but that had always been the way with Lily and his mother always said that usually, girls who fancied a boy often acted hard to get and soon would come around.
But Jane had always been his friend, and what would happen if she didn't want to be his friend anymore? If he had accidentally done something so unforgiving she'd never want to see him again?
"Jane? Can I please come in?" there was no answer but a heavy and irregular breathing. It was like that for a few seconds and he almost left "Please?"
He was already thinking of what he'd write that night when he got home to send with his owl first hour the next morning, counting on the hope that perhaps she'd feel a bit less… disgusted by his presence and would at least agree to read his letter but alas, the door opened from one clean movement.
A sigh escaped his lips and he almost smiled, but knowing the conversation that awaited was probably not a good one his lips went flat.
He pushed the door open and exact kind of room he'd have expected Jane to have, not much different than what it had been when they were both 9 years old playing with her potions kit for young wizards and witches. Although the right side of the room, the one with mostly pink and red tones, was in relatively neat state despite the overpopulation of books and parchments and hats, the one in the left, which colours were so soft that could alleviate one's headaches, where everything was exactly where one would supposed it ought to be, couldn't belong to anyone else but Jane.
Even the brown teddy bear that rested over the bed next to the white cushion seemed to be in such an immaculate state that James if he hadn't know it had been given to Jane by her godfather the day she was born, he would've believed it to be brand new.
He pushed the door shut softly with the weight of his chest and careful, as if not wanting to scare her off, turned to face her.
She was sitting on the edge of her single sized bed, still with her shoes on and her feet touching the ground. With her hands on each side of her body she held herself straight but her head was lowered and because the candle light inside the room was already weak he could barely see it.
"Hey…" he said, walking slowly towards her, ready to turn and leave if she asked him to or even look at him suggesting something similar. Since she didn't even lift her head, he continued until he was standing right next to her.
Not entirely sure his next move was correct or not but decided he shall do it anyway, he asked if he could sit. Standing next to her while she sat and didn't even direct a word or look his way wasn't busting his confidence; he felt lost enough as it was.
Merlin bless he was wearing his glasses, if not, he would have missed the taut nod.
The mattress sank a little under his added weight and brought Jane's thin legs closer to his, but still with enough distance for them not to touch. He placed his arms similarly as Jane's but kept his head high and his gaze upfront, towards Emily's wrinkled bed.
They sat in silence for minutes and while it wasn't uncomfortable it was very odd. Then, he lowered his view to his right and observed her bony and pale hand, which under the moonlight seemed fairer than before, and he noticed how her fingers were thrusting themselves against the blue covers, flattening the fabric and grabbing it again over and over.
A sniff, which didn't come out from him made him turn his head slightly and adjust his view towards her face, wearing dazed expression with eyes filled with childlike worry and preoccupation.
Tears were falling from her eyes while many others were waiting for the same fate and her eyeballs were acquiring a reddish colour. The rest of her face, however, remained expressionless and if it hadn't been for the wetness on her cheeks one wouldn't have thought anything was wrong.
Without thinking about it his hand encountered her shoulder, which stiffened at the touch, but fortunately she didn't pull him away.
He leaned even further down, almost feeling the warmth from her own face: "Jane? What's wrong?"
She didn't answer, instead she turned her face and looked at him right in the eye. The fact that his eyes seemed as sincere as his voice sounded infuriated her even further and James noticed the change on her own eyes which became darker, harder.
Without taking his hand off her, if anything shortening the distance between the two of them, with a low and feeble voice he begged: "Please tell me what I've done"
"Do you want me to tell you what you did?"
His eyes widened a little, becoming more awake, clearly surprised, but he nodded vigorously.
She shifted her body on his direction so aggressively that his hand fell on the air, her shoulder away from him to touch. There were no new tears on her eyes and the ones that remained almost seemed to be evaporating from the anger that exhaled from every pore.
"For starters you make me look like a simple, senseless, laughable idiot." Her voice started out as steady as it could be for someone who had spent the last ten minutes crying and the rest of the night longing for it, but as she continued it lost stability gradually and it gained "Everyone says so and those who don't surely think so…" she threw a humourless laugh as she sided her head down, but firmly and sharply, she straightened her neck again and was once again staring at his doe eyes "'There she goes! She's so gullible and ugly that her supposed boyfriend rathers spend his afternoons and mornings calling after Lily Evans every chance he gets. He's only with her until Lily becomes available. That's what they say, James, did you know that?"
James opened his mouth and closed it a few times, managing to say "But… you know we're doing this because of Lily"
Her short scornful laugh left her lips as an immediate response to his words, her voice after that came out slow and suppressed and she wasn't looking at him anymore, once again she was staring at her own two feet: "Yes, because that's the point"
"What's the point, Jane? Help me understand"
His voice wasn't as soft as when the discussion had started either. No anger or annoyance came out of his, but pure confusion instead and a slight exasperation.
When she answered, anger wasn't the primary ingredient of her voice either, but pure hurt and it came out so taut that it seemed as if it physically pained her to speak them "The point is that I'm seen as an idiot in all Hogwarts. A witch that's so… disgusting and ugly and stupid that she doesn't mind being with someone who obviously doesn't like her back, who doesn't even respect her enough not to flirt with prettier girls when everyone's looking"
Silence rose again, this time painful, thick and sullen.
They were both staring at each other again.
James's face twisted in confusion and he had to swift his eyes towards the other side of the room again, not being able to bear her heavy teary eyes. His breaths became heavy and louder, and then he looked at her again.
"How can you say that?" he asked in disbelief.
"Don't you understand?" she asked, her voice thin and as low as it usually was "Everyone says it, not me. They mock me. They laugh at me when I walk by… they laugh at my face!"
His eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched and his eyes which before had tried to escape hers, were now staring into them so intently, as if he could obtain answers from them.
"Who did that?" his voice which was often either cheerful or sweet now sounded like that of a grown man, not a sixteen year old boy anymore.
She looked away, towards the window, regretting even opening her mouth at all.
"That's… that's not important"
"What?!" his voice went high with disbelief, and his hand reached for hers, covering it all and with that touch forcing her to timidly look back his way "Of course it is. These people are idiots, they're... " he looked down abruptly, disgusted "they're scum."
Jane looked at James' lowered head and the way in which his cheeks were tainted with red, his jaw ever more notorious than it usually was, and she was reminded why she liked him so much, why she loved him. He was, truly, the definition of a good person. There she was, having mistreated him the whole night and now he was acting this way just because of her.
A sad, little and brief smile adorned her face.
"They're right" she said softly. No anger, no self pity, no intentions on setting any blame.
Slowly, he raised his face back up, and once again they were staring at each other.
"And how can you say those things?"
She frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"All those terrible things… about yourself. How can you say that?"
She blushed red, and tried looking away, but his soft hand caught her cheek and brough her back to face him.
"Do you really think those things?"
Her swallowing was the only sound that came from her. Still, she was unable to look away - partly because his hand still rested over her warm skin as he continued to speak while she felt every molecule on his fingers burn every layer of her skin, but also because she didn't have the strength to do so.
"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard you say" not an ounce of humour left his mouth. "You're pretty, Jane" his cheeks lit up as he said that, but hers did equally so "Not only that, you're a good person, a great friend, and you're nothing near stupid"
His hand abandoned her face, and suddenly she found herself missing it. He looked down onto his lap, and she looked at him, her mouth slightly open and her eyes even more so.
"You're a great friend" he stated gravely, still not looking at her "And… I was stupid… and asked you to do something even stupider and didn't even think on how this would affect you… and I'm sorry" timidly he looked at her from over his shoulder.
They stared in comfort, wrapped in the knowledge they both cared for each other.
A small smile appeared on her face and before he knew it, her arms were wrapped around his shoulders and back and she was holding so tight that not for a second did he doubt about being forgiven. When he found it possible for him to sit up straight again, his arms imitated her own and they stayed like that for over three minutes, their chests so close to each other they seemed like they were one person.
"Do you want to go back down?" she asked after they broke their embrace, still sitting in bed, one leg crossed over the covers while the other fell to the ground, wiping a remaining tear off with her fingers.
James, whose both legs were now crossed over the bed, smiled at her and shook his head in a boyish way, dimples again on sight and with hair which as expected was no longer as neat as Mrs. Potter had made sure it'd be when they left home. "Nah, let's stay here"
