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Chapter Three

The Less I Know the Better

"Cleo, get up. We're going to be late for breakfast."

I groaned, the sound muffled from my face still firmly planted in my pillow. Leigh nudged my hip with her hand, rocking me back and forth and causing me to groan again. I tried to swat her hand away, to no avail.

"Cleo, c'mon. I don't want all the bacon to be gone again because we stuck around waiting for your lazy arse."

At the mention of bacon and Leigh's extremely valid point, I grudgingly untangled myself from my sheets and sat up. Godric, everything was sore. I cracked my neck and rolled my shoulders, my joints creaking in protest. James had put us through another grueling practice the night before, and I knew I was going to hurt for days now. The man had a penchant for torture.

Leigh—satisfied that I no longer resembled a drooling corpse—moved off to the washroom, leaving me sitting on the edge of my bed. There was no sign of Renee, but I heard her boisterous laugh coming from the washroom, as well. I looked around the room blearily, seeing our fourth and final roommate, Dorcas Meadowes, dressing by her trunk. When she spotted me, I waved.

"Morning, Dorcas," I grumbled, still half-asleep.

She gave me a shy smile. "Morning, Cleo. Sleep well?"

I gave a noncommittal grunt. She smiled again, focusing her attention back on her tie, and that was it.

I liked Dorcas, I really did; she was sweet and loved helping others. She was a tad too timid for my tastes, but I was a tad too obnoxious for her own, which is why she usually preferred the company of the girls in the year above us, like Lily Evans. From the moment we set foot in our dormitory, Leigh, Renee, and I got on like three peas in a pod. Dorcas, try as we might, just couldn't fit in the pod with us. We were just too different. But at least we acknowledged it and accepted it.

With a last smile, Dorcas grabbed her bag and left the dormitory. Figuring I should get a move on, I shuffled into the washroom and joined Leigh and Renee at the sinks. I turned the faucet to cold and splashed water on my face, letting it reinvigorate me as Leigh and Renee discussed our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, a complete dud named Professor Ira Vandegrift.

As they chattered on about his complete inadequacy for teaching, I washed my face and brushed my teeth before slapping my hair into two knots on top of my head, too lazy to braid it this morning. Godric forbid I didn't have to worry about my hair. Unlike Leigh's wavy, light auburn hair and Renee's natural, honey-blonde curls, my dirty blonde hair was so frizzy and wild I had to put it up or else look like I'd been zapped by lightning.

"I love it when you do that with your hair," Leigh said, reaching up and squeezing one of my buns. She grinned at me in the mirror. "It's so cute. Right, Renee?"

Renee paused in the application of her mascara and glanced over. "You look like a gnome," she said to me.

I snorted. "I'm so glad I have such supportive friends."

Renee smiled, going back to her mascara while Leigh finished off her tie. I trudged back to my trunk and pulled on my black school robes, leaving my own tie undone—my private rebellion against the arcane ritual of school uniforms. Before, I'd done anything I could with my tie: wrapping it around my forehead, tying it on the end of my braid, wearing it like a bowtie, you name it. It drove McGonagall and my other professors mad, which was one of the reasons I did it. But it'd been my protest against conformity. My dad always used to tell me to go against the grain, be my own person and all that, and I'd taken it to heart. I'd toned down the obnoxiousness of my protest since Fourth Year, but to this day, I still refused to wear my tie properly. Even McGonagall had given up trying to correct me for it.

When we were ready, we grabbed our book bags and left the dormitory. Leigh shook her head at me when she passed, clucking her tongue at my loose tie, but she didn't try to fix it. That ship had sailed long ago.

We made our way to the Great Hall, chatting animatedly and joking around. We took our usual seats toward the end of the Gryffindor table, Leigh and Renee sitting across from me while I propped my leg up on the empty space of the bench beside me. I poured a cup of coffee and spooned some cream into it while Renee loaded hers with sugar cubes. (Her sweet tooth was insatiable, that one. She put me to shame, and I loved sweets.) Leigh dove for the bacon, piling her plate high and nearly weeping when she discovered it was still warm.

And so began our morning routine. Renee and I would sip our coffee and contemplate, and Leigh would berate us until we ate, insisting that coffee was not breakfast. We usually ignored her, but to appease her today, I choked down a few bites of a blueberry muffin as the owls arrived with the morning post.

Renee read her daily letter from her parents (being an only child, her parents constantly fretted over her while she was away at school) while Leigh paid the handsome brown owl that had landed at her elbow before taking that morning's copy of the Daily Prophet from him. She disappeared behind the pages of the newspaper, leaving me to eat my muffin in silence. Letters from my own parents were rare. I didn't really mind, since they were always travelling for my dad's job, but sometimes I wished they'd write more. I didn't even know where they were right now. Sweden? Switzerland? If I was lucky, maybe I would get a postcard.

I took another sip from my coffee, nearly upending the cup when an unexpected voice said, "Budge over, lump."

James swatted my leg off the bench before plopping himself next to me—so close that his knee bumped my own under the table. I stared, bewildered, but he ignored my gaze, reaching instead for the plate of bacon in the center of the table.

"You done with this, Morello?" he asked Leigh, who had poked her head up from the newspaper and now stared at him in utter confusion. Even Renee looked up from her parents' letter, a puzzled frown on her face that morphed into a grimace when Sirius took up the place next to James, just as confused as the rest of us.

"Er…" Leigh looked between me and James helplessly. James still hovered over the plate of bacon, gazing at her expectantly. She gave him a jerky nod. "Yeah, I'm done. Go for it."

"Excellent." James didn't even put the bacon on a separate plate. He just took the entire platter and placed it in front of him, grabbing up several pieces. "Remus, Pete, don't just stand there; take a seat."

Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew—the other half of James and Sirius's friend group known collectively as the Marauders (which I refused to say aloud because I thought it was so dumb)—stood off to the side, uncertain. At James's order, though, Lupin slowly took the seat by Leigh, and Pettigrew eased himself beside Renee, glancing at her as if she would attack him at any moment.

Though we had mutual friends between James and me, and Renee and Sirius, I'd never interacted much with Lupin or Pettigrew. Lupin had always been more reserved than the boisterous James and Sirius, but Pettigrew just creeped me out with his watery blue eyes and face that resembled a rat's. I'd never understood why James kept him around, but he was fiercely protective of the small boy, so I'd stopped questioning him.

But this was just weird.

"Can I help you?" I asked James. He was stuffing his face with bacon, and I watched in disgust as he swallowed the large bite he'd taken with an audible gulp.

Our section of the table was awkwardly silent as everyone glanced between me and James. Renee and Sirius studiously avoided eye contact, which just made the whole thing stranger. What was James thinking?

He shrugged, running a hand through his jet-black hair. "Just came to see how my favorite Chaser was doing," he said casually. "Plus, your section had more bacon."

I exchanged a glance with Leigh and Renee. "Er, all right. Whatever you say."

He reached over and pinched a piece off my muffin. Under the table, his other hand pinched my knee. I opened my mouth, preparing to swat him, but he fixed me with a pointed stare.

Oh.

I took a hasty gulp from my coffee. Right. We were supposed to build up our relationship, so it wouldn't be so shocking when we started "dating."

"You look nice today, Cleo," he said with a pleasant smile. "I like what you did with your hair."

"Thanks, James," I said. I shot Renee a moody look. "Renee said I reminded her of a gnome."

Sirius snorted into his pumpkin juice, glancing to Renee quickly before looking away. Renee half-smiled at the glance, her cheeks flushing pink. I resisted the urge to gag. Godric, they were gross. I just wanted to yell at them to get it over with and shag already.

"Well, I think it looks nice," James said. He reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair that hadn't made it up behind my ear, his fingers lingering a bit longer than was casual.

Normally, I would've punched him for touching me, but instead I forced myself to smile like a shy little girl and repeat, "Thanks."

Leigh stared at me like I'd turned into a mountain troll. Renee caught my eye and mouthed what the fuck? I just shrugged and went back to my muffin.

The reason I hadn't confided in my two best friends was simple: they were terrible at keeping secrets. Every crush I'd ever had at Hogwarts had inevitably found out because Leigh and Renee were just so obvious. I've spent years begging them to be more discreet, but they just couldn't grasp the concept of it. Entrusting them with the secret of my scheme with James was asking for our cover to be blown. (Plus, I knew they would take the piss out of me forever if they knew.)

Breakfast passed slowly after that. No one seemed to want to initiate conversation, so we all just sat with our own thoughts, occasionally trading furtive glances with one another. James munched on, oblivious, while I pondered my next move. Flirting wasn't foreign territory to me. But flirting with James? That would take some getting used to. Especially when he smacked his lips like that, triggering my impulse to slap him. He knew how much I hated it when he did that.

When the warning bell tolled that classes would be starting soon, I stood with a sigh of relief. I turned, ready to flee the horribly awkward scene, but James tapped on my shoulder.

"Mind if I walk you to class?" he asked.

"Er, no," I said, acutely aware of everyone's eyes on us. "I have Charms with Flitwick, though. That's on the third floor. Don't you have Herbology out in the greenhouses this block?"

He shrugged. "Sprout loves me. She won't mind if I'm a few minutes late."

Merlin, he was persistent. I shrugged back. "Suit yourself." I bat my eyelashes for good measure. "I'd actually really like that."

He grinned at me. Behind us, I heard Pettigrew whisper, "What the fuck is going on?"

James just held out his arm to me. "Shall we?"

I gave him a deadpan look. He dropped his arm.

"Too thick?" he asked out of the corner of his mouth.

"More like overkill," I muttered back. "Can you at least try to act somewhat normal?"

He nodded. "Got it." He turned to his friends. "Save me a seat. I'll catch up to you."

They nodded dumbly, sharing an indecipherable look. I faced Leigh and Renee. They made no move to join us, but their expressions were the same: we're talking about this later. I gave them an encouraging nod, and then James whisked me out of the Hall.

We were crossing the Entrance Hall, heading for the grand marble staircase, when James physically ran into someone coming down the stairs.

"Oh, I'm so sorry—" the girl who'd barreled into him began saying before cutting off abruptly. "Potter? What are you doing?"

Lily Evans glared at him suspiciously. Even when she looked vaguely disgusted, she was still insanely pretty with her short, fiery red hair and almond-shaped green eyes. I glanced to James, expecting him to be making a dreamy face at the gorgeous Gryffindor girl he'd been in love with for the past three years, but instead he just gave her a polite smile.

"Evans," he said, his voice deep and smooth. He gestured to me. "I was just walking Cleo here to class."

Her emerald eyes shifted to me, curiosity blending with her suspicion. "Oh. Capaldi, right? You're one of Dorcas's roommates?"

"The one and only," I said, giving her a small wave.

She smiled at me, nodding, before turning back to James with a disapproving frown. "You realize we have Herbology in five minutes, yes?"

He nodded. "I'm aware."

She glared. "You'll be setting a bad example for Head Boy, being tardy like that."

"I think it's quite inspired," he said. "You know, proving to everyone that even if you're not perfect, you can still be a Head. Very motivational, in my opinion."

She opened her mouth to retort, but he linked his arm through my own and tugged me up the stairs.

"Sorry to cut our chat short, Evans, but arguing the finer points of tardiness would make Cleo and you late yourselves," he said, speaking over his shoulder. I looked back and saw Evans staring after us, her mouth still agape. James waved to her. "See you in class!"

When we disappeared up the stairs, James grinned down at me. "So, how was that?"

"Superbly conceited," I said. "It's no wonder she thinks you have a big head."

He frowned. "I meant Evans. Did she look jealous? Envious? Wishing she were you instead?"

I rolled my eyes. "I think she was just annoyed that you're intentionally missing class to walk me to my own when I'm perfectly capable of doing it by myself."

"Isn't it a chivalrous thing to do, though? Walking you to class?"

I sighed. "I mean, yes. And I s'pose it shows interest on your part."

"Then it's all good," he said. "This is what we wanted, right? The speculation, the rumors, all that."

"Yeah." I sighed again. "It's just…a lot weirder now that we're actually doing it."

He slowed his steps. We'd reached the second-floor corridor, and students still milled about, heading to class. They cast us inquisitive looks as they passed, but James ignored them, his serious gaze on me.

"If you're having doubts, I understand completely," he said. "We can call the whole thing off right here if you want. Just say the word."

"No, no." I shook my head. "I gave you my word. A favor for a favor. And I intend to stick by it. I'll see this thing through."

"Are you sure?" He put a hand on my shoulder, keeping his voice low so passersby couldn't hear him. "Don't lie, Cleo."

"I'm not lying," I said, refraining myself from brushing off his hand. "James, you know I'm the worst liar on the planet. I'm sure. I'm all in."

He searched my eyes for a moment before nodding. "All right. I believe you." He squeezed my shoulder. "You're a good mate, Cleo, y'know that?"

I flicked his chin. "Of course, I know. I'm awesome."

He snorted. "And Evans thinks I'm arrogant."

I grinned. "You are. Now, c'mon; I have Charms to get to."

We fell into step as we walked through the corridor in amiable silence. James—ever uncomfortable without opening his mouth for more than a minute—spoke up as we made our way to the third floor.

"That's a great nickname for you, by the way," he said. I shot him a questioning look and he smirked. "Gnome."

I snorted. "Better than yours. What is it? The one your friends always call you. Prawns?"

He looked scandalized. "It's Prongs, Gnome."

"That's even dumber."

"You wouldn't think so if you knew the meaning behind it," he said, sniffing.

"So, can I know?"

"No. It's classified."

"Then I don't care."

We reached the third-floor corridor and stopped outside the Charms classroom. When he made no move to leave, I raised a brow at him. "What? You planning on coming to class with me, too?

He made a face. "No, thanks. I'd rather not sit through another Sixth Year Charms lesson. I have important matters to tend to."

"Like going to Herbology, right?" When he didn't answer, my brows rose higher. "James. Like what?"

"None of your business," he replied with an infuriating smirk. "Now, run along; I don't want to be late meeting Sirius."

I gaped. "You're skiving with Black? No fair! Take me with!"

"No way, Gnome." He poked my nose. I batted his hand way. "You have a whole year to pass, remember? No skiving for you."

I scowled. "Stop calling me Gnome, Prawns."

"I'd punch you for that, but that rather puts a whole damper on our plan," he said. "Would you like to hear it?"

I shook my head. "The less I know the better. I'm sure you have some undoubtedly asinine gesture planned that'll make me regret agreeing to this as soon as I find out about it."

"Asinine?" he repeated, pulling a face. "Good grief, Gnome, I didn't know you were a walking thesaurus."

"Shut up, Prawns."

He pouted. "I'm going to pretend you didn't just call me that and walk away now. Have fun in class."

He winked and strutted down the corridor, leaving me to stare after him, miffed.

"Screw you, Potter!" I called after his retreating back.

He raised a hand without turning around. "Love you too, my fickle little Gnome!"

Well, that was that. My new challenge besides convincing the whole school that James Potter and I were dating was to not kill the bloke before the year was up.

I had a feeling it would be a lot easier said than done.

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Next Chapter: Dirty Little Secret

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