Disclaimer: All rights go to JK Rowling. Anything you don't recognize is mine.

So, sorry for vanishing for a few months lol. Life has a wonderful way of creating roadblocks. But I'm back and bear with me an extra long chapter to make up for the wait!

Thanks to everyone for sticking around!

Chapter Five

Girlfriend

When I walked into Potions and saw the scroll on my desk tied with that dreaded purple ribbon, I turned right back around and attempted to leave until Leigh and Renee each grabbed one of my arms.

"Let me go!" I wrestled against their grips, but the two girls must've been eating extra protein at meals, for I couldn't get away. They dragged me across the dungeon classroom, heedless to my protests. "I don't want that stupid invitation!"

"Too bad," Renee said, shoving me into my seat. When I squirmed, she raised her wand. "Do I need to Immobilize you? Because I will."

"Why are you doing this to me?" I complained.

"It's just an invitation, Cleo." Leigh rolled her eyes as she took the seat across from me at the table we'd sat at for the past five years. "I don't know why you get so worked up about it every time."

I eyed the scroll in front of me in disgust. "It's not just an invitation; it's a scarlet letter to single me out."

"Godric, you're so dramatic," Renee said, taking the seat next to me when I made no more moves to bolt from the room. "Just say no to Slughorn and move on."

"Sluggy's persistent," I said, sweeping the scroll into my bag. I was satisfied when it crunched against one of my spellbooks. "He'll keep hounding me to come to his stupid Slug Club parties for the next week, and I've run out of excuses at this point."

Leigh and Renee shared a long-suffering, exasperated look.

"Then say yes and go," Leigh said. "The Slug Club is all about connections, Cleo. You told us that yourself. Didn't your dad used to be a member? And look where he is now."

I scowled. "I got it, thanks."

Leigh shrugged, thankfully sensing that I wanted the subject dropped. Beside me, Renee pulled out her parchment, quill, and inkpot. "Hey, what's the date today?"

"October 15th," I said, then froze.

"Thanks," Renee said, oblivious to my sudden tension as she scribbled the date on her parchment. Leigh was too busy pulling out her own supplies to notice me as I put my head in my hands and mouthed Shit!

I couldn't believe it. How had the weeks gone by so quickly? It seemed like just yesterday I'd agreed to go out with James as a ploy to make Lily Evans jealous. And now it was the 15th—the day James was supposed to "officially" ask me out.

I still had no idea how he was planning to do it, and that was the most horrifying thought of all. I just hoped he would listen to me and not do anything extremely embarrassing or cringy. But he was James Potter. And James Potter played by his own rules.

I also hoped our plan worked. I mean, we'd spent weeks building our so-called relationship up. It had to be believable by now, or what was the point? And there was also the small matter of getting Lily Evans to actually like him back, which was easier said than done, considering she used to hate James's guts.

On the bright side, even if all went wrong, I still got James to help me with a month's worth of homework. Maybe that wouldn't be a bright side for him, but it certainly was for me.

I pulled out my own notes and quill just as Professor Slughorn waddled into the classroom, squeezing his wide girth in the space between his desk and the blackboard. I studiously avoided eye contact with the robust Potions teacher as he surveyed the classroom with his large, pale green eyes.

"Afternoon, afternoon," he tittered. "I trust you all had a good week and are looking forward to the weekend? Especially those of you I've invited to my dinner party tomorrow evening?"

There were some grumbles from the class. I kept my head down, painstakingly tracing over the letters of my name with my quill when his gaze landed on me. He cleared his throat.

"Very well. Let's move on with today's lesson, shall we? If you'll take out your copies of Advanced Potion-Making and open them to page eighty-two…"

I clocked out as soon as I opened my book and saw the title for Draught of Peace. How utterly boring. Probably useful, but that's what drugs were for.

Professor Slughorn launched into a long-winded monologue about the history and usage of the potion, stating that today was only an introduction to it. Wonderful. I checked my watch and groaned silently. Two hours of straight lecture? Might as well kill myself now and get it all over with.

At least I wasn't the only one not paying attention. Renee rolled her quill on the table, her eyes glazed, while Leigh put her head down and promptly went to sleep, the beefy Hufflepuff sat in front of her blocking Slughorn's view of her. Lucky bird.

As the lesson went on, I began doodling on my parchment for lack of anything better. When not even sketches of flowers or hands did the trick, I flipped the parchment over and started thinking of Quidditch plays to bring up with James. I mean, there was a literal scout coming to Hogwarts to watch the final match. If they were impressed enough, they might sign someone on the spot to go play professional in the league. Gryffindor had to be in that game. And we had to win. I would accept nothing less.

I was in the middle of working through a complicated Chaser play when the door to the classroom opened, startling everyone out of their stupors. I turned in my seat and frowned when James walked in, a scroll in his hand.

"James, m'boy!" Slughorn boomed when he saw the older Gryffindor. "I was just going over the Draught of Peace with my Sixth Years here." He turned to the class at large. "Mr. Potter here is the son of an old colleague of mine—you may have heard of him? Fleamont Potter? He created a bestselling line of hair potions—Sleakeazy's, you know." He winked at James. "What can I do for you, m'boy?"

James grinned, unruffled by the professor's praise. I rolled my eyes. "My father told me to say hello from him, by the way," he said. He wagged the scroll in his hand. "And Professor McGonagall wanted this delivered to you, sir. I volunteered to go for her." He looked over his shoulder and winked at me once he'd passed the scroll to Slughorn. "All right, Cleo?"

I glared at him when the whole class stared at me. "Just fine, James, thanks."

Professor Slughorn looked up from McGonagall's scroll, distracted. "James, m'boy, I'd almost forgotten you knew Miss Capaldi!" He beamed at me. "Only natural…both Gryffindors, both Quidditch players, yes…"

James shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, shooting Slughorn another charming grin. "Right on the mark, Professor. Cleo's my star player." I sank lower in my seat, wishing the floor would swallow me whole when people kept staring. Even Leigh had woken up, glancing between me and James with groggy eyes. "Quite a whiz-popper, though—if she gives you any trouble, just say the word." He tapped the Head Boy badge on his robes. "I'd be happy to whip her back into shape."

The class tittered, shooting me furtive looks. I focused my gaze on the back of James's head and attempted to melt his brain into goo.

Professor Slughorn chuckled, setting down McGonagall's note. "Not to worry, m'boy—Miss Capaldi is a fine student. Though if you could convince her to come to my dinner party tomorrow…"

I stared at James, horrified. He turned and grinned at me. I shook my head frantically when Slughorn wasn't looking, but James's smile only widened, becoming predatory.

"No problem with that, sir," he said. "Cleo's already coming. She's my date."

Someone coughed loudly in the sudden silence. I was now so low in my seat I could barely see over the table. Damn James Potter. Damn him to hell!

Professor Slughorn clapped his hands together. "Well, that's wonderful news! Thank you, James, m'boy—you can let Minerva know that I've received her request and shall answer her later today. You may go back to class now."

James nodded and headed toward the door, his hands still in his pockets. When he reached my seat, he checked to make sure Slughorn wasn't looking before leaning down to where I was still half-crouched under the table.

"See you later, Gnome," he whispered.

"I'll kill you," I swore.

He chuckled. "You can try."

"Shut up, Prawns."

"Love you, too, Gnome."

He avoided the kick I aimed at his shins and walked out, laughing all the way.

"When were you going to tell us James asked you to be his date to Slughorn's party?"

Leigh slammed her books on the table in the Great Hall, nearly upending a golden tureen of gravy as she took the seat across from me with Renee. I paused, a forkful of mashed potatoes halfway to my mouth, though I sighed and put it down when Leigh crossed her arms. "Explain."

"He didn't even ask me," I said, disgruntled. "He just, announced it. So, I technically found out at the same time you two did."

Renee leaned forward, putting her elbows on the table. She raked me over with critical eyes. "You're hiding something, Cleo." Her gaze narrowed. "And if you won't spill it, then I'm going to find out what it is myself."

I took a sip from my pumpkin juice to avoid her frankly creepy gaze. "I'm not hiding anything."

"Except for a deeply-rooted desire to shag James Potter!" Leigh snapped.

I wish I could tell her just how far off she was with that statement. Me? Shag James Potter? The thought alone was enough to make me hurl into the gravy tureen. I just rolled my eyes.

"Even if I did want to shag James, what's the problem?" I said. "There's plenty of worse blokes I could go for."

Leigh spluttered. "I know that! But in case you've forgotten, he's best mates with Sirius Black. And we all know what he's like."

She cast a pointed look to Renee. Renee scowled. "Oi, this is about Cleo, not me."

"They're both too arrogant for their own good," Leigh said. "Let someone else have them."

"Have who?"

James slid onto the bench beside me, with Sirius, Lupin, and Pettigrew perpetually in tow. Pettigrew sat next to Renee with a tentative smile that she didn't return while Lupin settled beside Leigh, glancing between the auburn-haired girl and me curiously. Sirius sat next to James and ignored us all in favor of the platter of sausages before him.

"No one," I said to James. I shoved my mashed potatoes in my mouth before he could press me further.

He shrugged. "All right, then, whatever you say."

I glared at Leigh and Renee as he made a plate, daring them to say something, but the two girls were now focused on their own meals. With a sigh of relief, I turned back to James. "How was your day?"

He shrugged again. "Boring." He took a bite of smothered steak and spoke around it. "Moony had quite an interesting day, though, eh?"

He waggled his eyebrows at Lupin, who grimaced when all eyes turned to him.

"It was hardly noteworthy," he said uncomfortably.

"What happened?" I asked.

James gestured to Lupin with his fork. "Go on; tell them."

Lupin rolled his eyes. "Bethany Schumacher asked me to the next Hogsmeade trip, that's all."

"From Hufflepuff?" Leigh demanded, whirling on him.

Lupin stared, shrinking back slightly from the fire in her gaze. "Er, yeah?"

"Well, you dodged a jinx with that one," she said, stabbing at her green beans. "Awful human being—you know she plagiarized my essay on the healing properties of Buggered Eyestalks last year? I spent weeks studying that plant, and she swooped in at the last second and tried to claim the research as hers!" Leigh scoffed. "The nerve of that witch!"

Lupin blinked. "Wait. That essay…was yours?"

"Yes," Leigh snapped, "and don't let Bethany tell you differently."

"I read that essay," he said. "Not Bethany's version, but yours. It was…quite brilliant."

Leigh discontinued her assault on her green beans and looked up to him, confused. "Really?"

He nodded. "Yeah. That paragraph about combining the plant's properties through magical and Muggle techniques to yield maximum results was fascinating—I never thought of it that way…"

The rest of us ate in silence while Leigh and Lupin debated the various somethings of what's-its-name, until Renee finally stood up with a vaguely disgusted expression.

"You're both nerds," she said to them before walking away, heading back to Gryffindor Tower.

After a moment, Sirius got up and followed her out. I rose from my seat, glaring after him, but James grabbed my sleeve and shook his head.

"Best let them work it out on their own," he said.

I threw him a glance. "He needs to work out his own issues first."

He grinned slightly. "I won't argue with that."

We were spared from having to tune back into the Leigh and Lupin Show when Lily Evans herself appeared at James's elbow holding several pieces of parchment.

"Potter," she said with a tight smile. Her features softened when she saw me sitting next to him. "Oh, hello, Cleo. How are you?"

"Good, thanks," I said politely. "You?"

"Tired," she said. "Head Girl duties and Seventh Year are hardly fun." She turned back to James. "Speaking of, here's our schedule for rounds this next week."

She handed him one of the parchment slips, her eye twitching when he crumpled it up and shoved it in his robes. "Got it. Thanks, Evans."

She breathed deeply through her perfect button nose before turning back to me. "Will you be attending Professor Slughorn's dinner party tomorrow, Cleo?"

"Unfortunately," I grumbled, shooting James an ugly look. I was utterly bewildered, though; since when did Lily Evans talk to me?

James threw a casual arm around my shoulders. Lily's eyes followed the movement closely before they flicked back to James's face.

"Actually," he said, "Cleo here is my date. You know, since she's my girlfriend and all."

"Oh." Lily's face remained pleasant, but something at the corners of her eyes creased. I fought to keep my expression neutral after James's bombshell, but she just said, "How wonderful. Well, I trust you two will have fun. I'll see you there."

James sent her off with a cheeky wave. "See you, Evans!"

She cast us one more confused look before she hurried out of the Great Hall, her red hair bouncing on her shoulders. James turned back to me, his arm still draped around my neck and tugging on my braid.

"And that, little Gnome," he said, his eyes twinkling mischievously, "is how we win this game."

His words reminded me of our Quidditch practice last week, and our agreement to up the ante with some flirting. "Game on, Potter."

I took my finger and ran it down his chest, stopping just over his heart. His eyebrows shot up to his hairline as I smiled and leaned in close.

"You owe me big time for this stupid party, Prawns," I hissed in his ear, keeping that sultry smile on my face as I stabbed my finger into his chest. He shifted in his seat. "And for that little stunt you just pulled."

He grinned and tugged on the end of my braid. "Buy you whatever you want at Honeydukes?"

I dug my finger in deeper. "And a butterbeer at Broomsticks."

He took my braid and smoothed it over my shoulder, ignoring all the eyes that had turned to us upon our rather public display of affection. "Done."

I stood up and collected my things. Across the table, Leigh hastily did the same, no doubt waiting to pounce on me with questions now.

"See you tomorrow," I said to James.

He winked at me. "Wear something nice."

As I walked out of the Hall, Leigh rushing in my wake, I attributed the warmth in my face to the dozens of eyes upon me instead of the way James had looked at me within that brief moment—like our game was genuinely exciting him.

Shaking off that absurd thought, I marched on, ignoring the sudden urge to take a cold shower.

My heavy boots clunked against the stone floors as I made my way to Professor Slughorn's dungeon office, his dinner invitation gripped tightly in my hand in case any teacher or Prefect decided to stop me for being out of my common room so late. Renee had offered to lend me a pair of her good heels for the party to match my outfit, but I'd declined—the last thing I needed was a sprained ankle. Slughorn's was already torture enough.

I tried not to feel as if I was walking to the gallows; after all, it was just a stupid dinner party. I'd have to sit there and simper while everyone else and Slughorn circle-jerked to their own self-congratulation, but it was one evening. I could do this.

The corridors were mostly empty as I passed through them; I nodded politely to the Fat Friar as he drifted in the opposite direction, and averted my eyes when I saw the Grey Lady gazing forlornly out a window, but the two ghosts were the only souls I ran into.

I smoothed down my robes as the dungeons came closer. I'd chosen my only nice ones—a deep midnight blue with a stitched lace bodice. A bit out of style now, perhaps, but they'd belonged to my grandmother when she was my age and went to Hogwarts. No jewelry, minimal makeup, and Leigh had taken my simple braid and turned it into art—framing my face with a few chunks of ashy blonde hair that she'd curled with her wand while the braid itself fishtailed over my shoulder, coming to rest in the middle of my back. I much would have preferred trousers and trainers, but I was satisfied with the end result of my formality tonight, for this was all it was—a formality.

James had told me he would meet me at the entrance to the dungeons, and there he was when I arrived, dressed in black robes and shiny black shoes. It looked like he'd tried to comb his hair, but the effort had been futile, since it still stuck out in every direction and refused to lay flat.

"You clean up nice," I said in lieu of greeting him. I smirked. "Didn't your dad invent a hair potion that could help with…?" I gestured to his hair.

He reached up and attempted to flatten his hair again, frowning. "Don't be rude. I'm sensitive."

I rolled my eyes. "You're not sensitive about anything."

He grinned. "Because I'm also amazing." His eyes traveled over me, and for some reason, it made me nervous. I shifted on my feet. "I'm impressed, Gnome; I didn't know there was an actual woman hidden underneath all that frizz and glowering."

"I don't glower." I scowled. "That's Black's thing."

"Y'know, you two are remarkably alike sometimes," he said. "It's a shame you both just can't see it."

"Can we not talk about Sirius Black? Just hearing his name makes me want to punch something."

"Fine, fine." James offered me his arm. "Shall we?"

"Let's just get this over with," I grumbled, taking his arm and ignoring the amount of muscle I felt there. Godric, what was wrong with me? It's not like I didn't know James was fit; we've been on the same team for years, and it was hard not to notice from the amount of times I'd seen him shirtless in practice and the changing rooms. Maybe I was coming down with the flu or something; it would explain why my head has been in the clouds so much lately.

Soft, soothing string music emanated from Slughorn's office as we descended the staircase into the dungeons, and though the music reminded me of stiff, uncomfortable dinners with my parents, it was quite lovely. We entered Slughorn's office and discovered that it had been completely transformed into a small ballroom, with a slab of hardwood dedicated to dancing, while house-elves flitted between the guests, laden with trays of drinks and decadent foods. Where Slughorn's desk usually sat was now a large, circular table decorated with a fine cream-colored tablecloth and shining silver plates and cutlery. He'd gone above and beyond, it seemed, which only added to my discomfort.

"Wine?" James asked me as a house-elf approached. At my dubious look, he grinned. "It's elf-wine; the alcohol content is so low that it's barely there."

"Fine." I realized I still clutched his arm and quickly let go. I didn't need him to be my crutch to get through this. I pointed to another tray. "Wanna try one of those cream puff things?"

He nodded, too busy getting the wine, so I gestured for the house-elf with the cream puff tray. I grabbed two wrapped in glittery gold paper, and James and I exchanged glasses and puffs.

"Well, cheers," he said, raising his wineglass. "To our official debut as a couple."

Though I wanted to roll my eyes, that stupid smirk of his—the one that made his eyes crinkle in the corners and made a dimple appear in his chin—got the better of me. I smiled as we clinked glasses and said, "Cheers."

We drank, and when I was finished, I took a bite of the cream puff.

"Oh, Merlin," I said around a mouthful of cream. "James, you have to try this. It's divine."

He chuckled at my blissful expression. "Careful, Clee; you sound like you need a change of pants."

"Shut up and try it," I said, shoving the cream puff in his face. He chuckled again and took a bite, his face instantly morphing into wonder.

"Damn," he said. "You're right. This is…heavenly. Wow." He polished it off in one more bite and shook his head. "That was one of the best things I've eaten in my life."

I nodded, too absorbed in savoring my last bite to say anything. James rolled his eyes at me. "Could you be any more embarrassing, Cleo?" He pointed to my mouth. "You're getting it everywhere. Here."

I jerked away when he reached for me, but he gave me an exasperated look. "You have cream all over your face, Gnome." And before I could respond, he swiped his thumb over the corner of my mouth, removing the glob of cream that had stuck there. He licked the cream off his thumb, his eyes twinkling in amusement, and for some reason, I had to turn away and take a hasty gulp of wine.

"So, what now?" I asked, my eyes scanning the room. There were a dozen or so people there—fellow students, though I didn't recognize any of them. These were the elites of Hogwarts, the people I'd vowed to stay away from since I stepped foot in the castle when I was eleven. My eyes snagged on someone entering the room, and I saw Lily Evans, wearing a mauve dress and petite heels that made her look more beautiful than ever. I glanced to James, who had followed my gaze and now looked like a man being slowly tortured over a roaring fire. I rolled my eyes. "Go say hi."

"What?" He didn't take his eyes off Lily as she accepted a glass of wine and greeted someone—a Hufflepuff, I think. Maybe a Seventh Year.

I nudged his shoulder with my own. "Evans. Say hello. Stop staring at her like a serial killer."

"Right." He nodded, dazed. "Will you be all right?"

"You're not my babysitter, James," I said, and he nodded again.

"Okay. I'll be back," he said and made a beeline toward Lily. I shook my head and wondered if I shouldn't go after him in case he said something stupid. No, that wouldn't be fair. James wasn't my babysitter, and I certainly was not his.

I took my wine and wandered around the room, sticking to the edges of the crowd. Slughorn was there, always in the middle, the center of attention. He grazed on the crystalized pineapple he loved so much and became louder and more boisterous with each glass of brandy he consumed, booming his praises and crowing about his famous connections and former students for anyone who would listen. Though I had my problems with Slughorn, I didn't hate him; I would probably be the same way if I was ever in his shoes. At one point, I saw James and Lily chatting with him, and I began to think I could actually make it through this thing without notice until Slughorn bellowed, "Ah, yes! Miss Capaldi! She's here tonight, isn't she, James, m'boy? Your date, correct?"

At Slughorn's voice, I froze on the outskirts of the crowd that had gathered around the Potions professor. However, heads swiveled in my direction, and Slughorn's watery gaze finally found me.

"Cleona!" he said, beckoning me over. "Here, dear, come here! I never took you for a shy one."

Shit. I approached Slughorn warily, smiling awkwardly as everyone stared. Did he really have to use my first name like that? Just Cleo was fine. But I guess he wanted everyone to think that he and I were old friends. Great.

"Professor Slughorn," I said politely. Beside him, James and Lily watched me curiously. "Wonderful party. And the cream puffs are to die for."

He laughed and it echoed around the room. "Yes, well, I'm just glad that James here wrangled you into finally coming!" He turned to the crowd of students watching. "Did you all know that Miss Capaldi here is the daughter of the Grayson Capaldi? Oh, yes, the very Chaser for the Appleby Arrows! One of the most talented students I've ever had the pleasure to teach!"

I stood, stiff, as he went on.

"And your mother—ah, yes, Meridia. Brilliant, absolutely brilliant! A bright witch, indeed. Tell me, what is she doing these days while your father plays?"

Sleeps her way across the continent, I wanted to retort. Tours with my father so she can keep his money for parties and shopping.

"She travels with my father," I said, a brittle smile now plastered to my face.

"Ah, yes. Those two lovebirds," Slughorn said. "Inseparable at Hogwarts! Well, I'm glad to see that love hasn't faded." He turned to the students. "Now—dinner!"

The other students bypassed me with inquisitive glances and murmurs. I ignored them, but that familiar thick feeling—like I had something stuck in my throat—crept over me. The only thing that kept me from turning and fleeing the room was James's hand on my elbow.

"Hey," he said. His face was normal, but I could see the curiosity simmering in his gaze. "Sit with me?"

A question, I realized. Not a request. He was giving me the choice of staying or leaving.

"Go on ahead," I said, my voice oddly raspy. "I'm not feeling too well. That cream puff…"

"Shove it," he said. "C'mon; I'll walk you back to the common room."

"No, James," I said stubbornly. "Stay here. Talk to Evans or something. I'll be fine."

Everyone was taking their seats, and I knew there was only a matter of time until Slughorn realized James and I were still standing and questioned us.

I shook my arm free of James's grasp. "Eat. I'll see you tomorrow." I practically ran from the room, my appetite quelled. I was halfway up the stairs back to the ground floor when I heard footsteps behind me, and I turned to see James following.

"What are you doing?" I hissed. "I said you could stay."

He ignored my glare and kept moving past me, taking the stairs two at a time with his long legs. He shot me a smirk over his shoulder. "I couldn't let my girlfriend leave without me, could I? That's not gentlemanly at all."

I huffed and jogged after him until we reached the ground floor. "This is the perfect opportunity to talk to Evans, and you're wasting it by following me."

"I wouldn't call it a waste," he said. He looked at me, his eyes searching my face. "Why didn't you ever tell me Grayson Capaldi was your dad?"

I groaned, rubbing a hand over my face. "Why do you think?" I fixed him with a cold look. "And it's not my fault you never made the connection before."

He shook his head. "I'll admit; I am kinda pissed I never realized. I mean, it's obvious now. Besides the name, you look exactly like him."

"Yeah, I know." I sighed. "Look, I just didn't want anyone to base me off him, y'know? I didn't want people to pretend to be friends with me because he's a professional Quidditch player and all that, and I certainly didn't want anyone comparing me to him when I joined Quidditch myself. It's stupid, yeah, but I'm not him. I don't want to be him."

I shut my mouth quickly after that. I hadn't meant for that last part to slip out. But James still studied me, his lips quirked in contemplation. "What?"

He shrugged. "Nothing. I just get where you're coming from." He tilted his head. "I'm just wondering why you never told me. I mean, I'm assuming Leigh and Renee already know; they're your closest friends. I just thought…I dunno."

I frowned. Was he…disappointed? Hurt? Did he really think we were that close? James was my friend, but I always knew that Black, Lupin, and Pettigrew were his best mates. I never even considered the possibility that James thought we were anything more than casual friends.

I crossed my arms. "I dunno, either. I guess I just thought it wasn't that important."

He nodded slowly. "Look, Cleo, I don't mean to pry, but… Your dad being famous isn't that bad, right? I mean, I get that it can be uncomfortable, but ditching the party because of that… I dunno. It just doesn't add up."

"That's a conversation for another time." Preferably never. "I appreciate you checking on me, James, but you really should get back. I'll be fine."

"Nah." At my confused frown, he lifted his shoulders. "They were serving duck, and I'm just not a fan." He raised his eyebrows. "I was thinking we could go to the kitchens instead."

"No one knows how to get into the kitchens," I pointed out. "Well, except maybe the Hufflepuffs."

James smiled widely. "Then allow me to prove you wrong, Capaldi."

A painting that had to be tickled in the exact right spot. That was how students were granted access to the kitchens.

I shook my head in disbelief after James finished tickling the pear in the portrait of a bowl of fruit and it giggled shrilly, the frame swinging forward like the Fat Lady did for the Gryffindor Common Room. Behind it squatted a short stone tunnel that oddly smelled of bacon.

"The more I learn about this castle, the less I know," I said when James climbed into the tunnel first. "Who thinks of tickling a pear?"

"Geniuses," he said, offering me a hand so I wouldn't trip on my robes. I accepted it and emerged from the tunnel into the enormous kitchens to stand beside him. My mouth fell open, and he chuckled. "Brilliant, isn't it?"

It was an exact replica of the Great Hall, with the House tables and everything, but with massive stoves and cookware lining every inch of the walls as house-elves bustled about, occasionally appearing or disappearing with loud CRACKS. James led me to what would be the Gryffindor table and sat across from me, clearly amused by my bafflement as I looked around in wonder.

"Why didn't you bring me here sooner?" I demanded. "This is amazing."

He tapped the side of his nose. "Have to keep some secrets, don't I? Or else my sexy air of mystery would be in jeopardy."

I was still too much in awe to retch at the description of him being sexy. "I'm never leaving this place."

James chuckled. "What do you want to eat? I'll put in our order with a house-elf. They'll be more than happy to do it; they don't get many visitors, but I've always been a favorite."

"Anything," I said. "Everything. Whatever I can get my hands on."

"Well," he said wryly, standing up, "at least you make things easy on me, Cupcake."

"Oi!" I called after him. "I told you to never call me that again!"

He ignored me, of course, but when he returned with a basket of fresh bread rolls, still warm from the oven, my annoyance was completely forgotten. I took a roll and inhaled deeply, the yeasty scent filling me with the sensation of coming home after a long day out in the cold.

"You're really into food, aren't you?" James asked. His lips quirked in amusement as he picked a piece off his own roll and popped it into his mouth. "First the cream puffs, and now this."

"Food is the essence of life, my dear James," I said, still holding the bread reverently. "Nothing in this world holds more power to bring people together than food does."

"Not even love?"

"Love has too many definitions; too many different ideas of what it's truly about to unite people for long," I said. The soft, flaky crust of the bread still warmed my fingertips while James watched, seemingly unsure if I was pulling his leg or not. "But a simple loaf of bread can create lasting bonds between people. It's a tangible thing; not some abstract emotion that varies across individuals."

"Since when were you a philosopher?" he joked. "I feel like I'm back in my dad's study while he reads me those boring books by Plato and Aristotle." I rolled my eyes at him and bit into the bread, savoring its buttery taste. He shook his head. "I'll admit: Food is great. But I still think love is more powerful."

"Now who's the philosopher?" I quipped.

He grinned and knocked his knuckles absently on the table. "You ever been in love, Cleo?"

I made a face at him. "Gross. No."

"Good," he said. "It's shit. Especially when you love someone, and they don't love you back."

"You're just being dramatic now."

He heaved a great sigh. "Yeah. Maybe I am." We ate in silence until he spoke again. "So, your dad?"

"Isn't relevant," I said, lowering the bread from my mouth with a scowl. I began picking at it, tearing off the crust. "He plays Quidditch and I happen to be related to him. Nothing else to add."

"And your mum? Slughorn had a lot to say about her."

The bread crumbled in my hands. "She gave birth to me. That's what mums do."

He watched me with those hazel eyes—the ones that were far too observant, far too clever. "You've never talked about her, either."

"Not much to talk about when she's never around," I said before I could help myself. I sighed. "Whatever. Forget it. My dad's been in the league since I was born; it's not like I'm unused to it."

James hesitated. "Do you speak to them, though?"

"They send postcards, sometimes, and I write them letters." I watched the breadcrumbs fall from my fingers onto the table. "I haven't seen them since Christmas. They didn't bother coming home from Spain when we were on our summer holiday." I shook my head. "Why do you even care?"

"Because I'm your friend, Cleo," he said, "and, honestly, I feel pretty shitty now that I never knew what was going on in your life before."

"You have your own problems," I said. And Black's, I wanted to add, but I knew that would just get us into an argument. "And it's not like I can't manage on my own. I've been doing it just fine for years now."

"You shouldn't have to," James said, frowning.

"Yeah, well, I do," I said with a shrug. I plowed on before he could reply. "What did you order for us?"

"Chocolate cake." He grinned at my expression. "It's your favorite, right? Especially when it has raspberry filling. Which I also told the house-elves about. So, chocolate cake with raspberry filling for the lady." He mockingly bowed.

"I thought you ordered it for both of us?"

"Well, I should add that only half the cake is chocolate. The other half is vanilla, as I happen to hate chocolate."

I gasped. "You can't be serious. How can you hate chocolate?"

He wrinkled his nose. "Dunno. Too rich, I guess? It always makes my stomach hurt afterwards."

"This was a mistake," I said, shaking my head. "I can't pretend to date somebody who hates chocolate. I'm sorry, but I have to go."

I stood up like I was making for the door, but James laughed. "Sit down, Cleo, or else you won't be getting any cake."

Disgruntled at his valid point, I sat back down. As if his words summoned them, two house-elves rushed over and deposited a cake pan between us, one half chocolate, and the other vanilla. Forks appeared at our elbows at the same time as the elves dashed off, and I picked mine up while James did the same.

"Bon appétit," he said, clinking his fork against mine. I rolled my eyes but dug in, immediately transcending to a higher plane as the cake melted on my tongue. James snorted. "Can you please stop having orgasms every time you eat? It's starting to get weird."

"Like you even know what a female orgasm looks like," I scoffed, going in for another bite.

His face morphed into the cocky expression I'd seen on him one too many times. "I happen to know intimately well what one looks like, Gnome." He smirked at my dubious look. "Just because I've been hung up on Evans doesn't mean I've been idle all this time."

"Name one, then," I said around my cake.

"Gretchen Goodrum."

I nearly spat out my bite. "What? When?"

"Last year," he said smugly, taking his own bite and clearly relishing my shock as he chewed slowly. "At the top of the Astronomy Tower, as a matter of fact."

"That's…" I trailed off. I shouldn't be that surprised, honestly. James wasn't ugly, after all, and he'd had his fair share of admirers over the years. Not as many as Black, to be sure, but there were some. And Gretchen Goodrum—though a Ravenclaw Chaser, and thus our rival—was pretty, athletic, and smart. I could see it, the more I thought about it. But the more I thought about it, the more my mind could picture the scene of James going down on someone with the stars above the Astronomy Tower behind him, and suddenly those legs looked a lot like mine—

I shoved another bite of cake into my mouth, shutting down that train of thought instantly. Gross. No. Ew. Just the sheer implication of James doing that… Disgusting.

"Inspired?" he suggested, wagging his eyebrows when I didn't finish my sentence.

"Sickening to even think about," I said. "I feel my cake coming back up again."

He laughed. "At least you're honest." I shrugged, but he wasn't done. "I think that's one of the reasons I wanted to be your friend when you joined the team," he said. "You were always so straightforward; you always said what was on your mind, no matter what."

"You gonna cry on me, Prawns?" I asked, grinning when he flipped me off.

"Just being nice," he said.

"Yeah, well, you aren't too shabby yourself," I said, spearing my fork through another layer of the spongy cake. I thought for a minute. "I think it was your confidence that got me—not your arrogance, but your confidence. There was a difference." I chewed, thoughtful. "You always seemed to know what to do, and I envied you for it. I wanted to be more like you; to know how to walk into a room and feel like I belonged there, even if I didn't."

He pretended to wipe a tear. "That might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"Don't get used to it."

We chuckled into our respective cakes and fell silent. James played with his fork absently until he asked, "You think our plan will work?"

I quirked my lips. "Even if it doesn't, at least I got a term's worth of homework out of it."

He nodded, still twirling the fork in his grasp. "If it does, I get Lily Evans to finally see me. But if not…" He shrugged. "I dunno what I get. Heartbreak, maybe?"

"Closure?" I set my fork down. "If things don't work out between you and Evans, you know it's not the end of the world, right? You're still going to graduate and go out into the real world. Even if Evans rejects you, at least then you'll have your answer. Then you can move on."

"You're right." He sighed. "Even if I don't want you to be."

"Anyone ever tell you that you're a complete and utter sap?"

"I prefer 'hopeless romantic,' thank you very much."

"Well, at least you got the hopeless part down."

"Oh, Gnome." He reached across the table and clasped my hand. "I'm so glad we're friends."

"Me, too, weirdo," I said with a small smile.

He checked his pocket watch. "You reckon it's time we go back to the common room? It's getting late."

"Yeah, let's go. I'm done, anyway," I said, shoveling the last bite of cake into my mouth as I stood up.

James chuckled at my full mouth before we left the kitchens and walked back to the common room in amicable silence. After we gave the Fat Lady the password and were permitted to enter Gryffindor Tower, we stood uncertainly in the empty common room.

"Er, I had a great time tonight," James said, always the one to break the silence. He grinned. "Even if it didn't exactly go as planned."

I snorted. "Yeah, thanks, Sluggy."

After a slight hesitation, he stepped forward and hugged me. "Thank you, Cleo. For, ah, you know…everything."

I hugged him back, realizing for the first time that James and I had never actually hugged before. He smelled nice—like neroli and something earthier that I couldn't quite place—and he was incredibly warm. It also made me realize how much shorter than him I was, my head fitting into the crook of his neck and shoulder.

"Don't mention it," I said as I pulled away, the drafty castle air already swooping in and reclaiming the space where his heat had just been. "See you tomorrow?"

He winked. "Bright and early for practice."

I groaned. "You're a menace."

He just laughed. "Get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning, girlfriend."

I glared at him as I started for the stairs. "Shut up before I strangle you, boyfriend."

His laugh chased me all the way up the stairs.

Please review! I'd love to hear your thoughts, especially after such a long time between updates!

Next Chapter: Put Your Money On Me

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