Author's Note: It's time for a horrifying glimpse into James's head. Always feels so freeing writing James, he's just so much more willing to do fun things than the other characters. Man, being a writer is weird.
Content Warning: Strong language, alcohol, sexual content.
Chapter 4
James "Champion" Potter
(James)
The first sensation I felt the next morning was a monstrous headache. And then the scent of puke reached my nostrils.
"Oh Merlin," I grumbled, feeling my gag reflex as active as ever. I stuck my arms out, searching for something to steady myself. I found myself clasping the edges of a bathtub. "Why am I in a bathtub?" flashed through my mind, but was quickly replaced by the thought: "Why can't I be wrapped around the toilet?" I pulled myself up and the room swam in front of my eyes. "Oh, bloody fuck." I stationed my hand over my mouth as I raised myself to my feet. The dizziness became increasingly worse, and my stomach felt like it was steadily spiraling downwards to hell. I made it to the toilet and soon found myself wondering at the former contents of my stomach. I looked away quickly, before the overwhelming nausea returned in full force. I looked down at myself, realizing that my clothes were wet. I grudgingly decided that the best plan of action was to bathe myself- somewhat- and put dry clothes on.
This turned out to be a very lengthy, unpleasant experience. Most of it was me lying in the bathtub with the shower head running. You might want to keep that image in your head, for later use, if you know what I mean. A naked James Potter is always a satisfying sight. However, excuse me if I don't pose for you. The devil is currently banging a war drum in my head and there I go throwing up again. Never again.
"Where the fuck am I?" I muttered as I walked out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around my waist and my wet clothes in a bundle in my arms. I looked around a strangely neat bedroom where three red-canopied beds stood with hangings more or less closed. My brain had never felt less functional as I tried to figure out where I was. Then I looked down at the floor. "No way!" I breathed with incredulous laughter. I bent down and picked up a small purple sequined dress. "No fucking way! Oh-ho-ho-ha-ha!" I found myself laughing a quiet, odd sort of laugh. I looked around to see similar feminine articles of clothing. It's bleeding impossible for a guy to get into the girls' dormitories, how the fuck did I get here? And what year's is this, anyway...? I peered at the hangings of the bed directly in front of me, trying to get a glimpse inside, but it was too dark. Naturally, I moved forward and pulled the hangings aside a little. I was overcome with more laughter as I beheld the little sleeping angel that was Teagan Finnigan in all her drunken, smeared make-up glory. Her hair was a mess and for all I could see, all she was wearing was a lacy yellow bra. I stepped backwards but tripped and stumbled about loudly. This succeeded in waking Teagan.
"James Potter, you pervy wanker!" she screamed without hesitation, stepping out of the bed and proceeding to whack me wherever she could reach. I couldn't help but laugh throughout the attack as I gathered up my clothes, clutched the white towel to my waist (wouldn't want to scar my best mate's baby sister for the rest of her life) and hurried on out of the dormitory.
"Lookin' good, T," I called over my shoulder. She seemed to realize just then that she was wearing nothing but the bra and a pair of frilly pink knickers. She stuck her middle finger up at me and then slammed the door in my face. I chuckled to myself, then winced as I felt the effects of all that activity catch up with me. Oh, bloody hangovers. I let out a breath, then stepped onto the first step of the spiral staircase. As per usual (yeah, I guess it's well known that I've spent a lot of time attempting to get into the girls' dormitories), the steps immediately melted into a smooth slide. I glided down into the common room and... holy shit. If you were to ask me yesterday what I thought the world would look like if A) we had been invaded by aliens, B) every human being on the face of the earth had gone mad at the same time or C) a meteor had hit the planet, I probably wouldn't know what exactly to say. But now, at this moment, yeah, I know what the apocalypse looks like.
Every object imaginable that had any right being anywhere near Gryffindor tower had somehow found its way to the common room. There were spilled drinks, messes of food everywhere, puddles of vomit (undoubtedly). There were clothes, there were books, there were balloons. A swarm of magic butterflies were still flitting about in confusion. People were passed out all over the place, some fully dressed, some not so much. One of the sofas was floating lopsided in midair. And the thing that concerned me the most was...why the fuck is there a life-sized statue of Brevis Birch in the middle of the room? I shook my head and made my way through a layer of random debris to the door to my dormitory. How the hell can twenty people do this? I stepped over many unconscious, truly hilarious-looking, messed up Gryffindors on the way to my dorm. I would've laughed a lot more than I did, but every movement was like a troll's club to the head. True hell is what I am living through.
I made it into the dorm but could only muster up enough energy to pull on a pair of boxers, then collapse onto my bed. I closed my eyes and begged the earth to just swallow me up right then and there. I begged Bran the Bloodthirsty to grind my bones into bread. Anything would be better than the agony I was now in. Oh lord, here come the chunks again. I pulled myself up, wishing I could remember how to conjure a bucket up, and I swerved into the bathroom. Ugh. I never was able to sleep very well after a night of drinking. I glanced at a clock to see that it was the ungodly hour of eight a.m.
The most desirable thing (well, next to curling up into a tiny ball and falling into sweet, sweet nothingness) was fresh air. I decided that I should go and lie down in the middle of a wide-open field or something, maybe melt into the soil. I stood up with zombie-like groans and shuffled to the door. I retraced my steps, threw some clothes on haphazardly, and then I left the room. I made it all the way to the first floor, then felt the powerful urge to hurl, and only just made it to a bathroom in time. When I passed the Great Hall, the scent of food made my stomach churn even more. Must get out.
I hurried (as fast as I could) out the main doors and into the fresh, cool morning air. I felt like stretching out my arms and hugging the world for having fresh air. Actually, now that I think of it, what I really felt at the time was...agony. I gingerly lowered myself to the ground beside a large beech tree, near the lake. I lay like that for a while, inconveniently with my face pressed into the ground. I heard birds chirping and felt like muting them, but that would involve movement, and movement would result in motion sickness. I continued to lie that way, until my nose really began to feel sore. It was also a little difficult to breathe...I rolled over, with great difficulty. Blimey, my entire body was so sore. I felt like I'd spent a night underneath a giant's foot. I had a feeling there were numerous bruises all over my body. Oh, Hogwarts, how you bring out the party animal in me.
"Alright, Potter?" I heard a voice ask. I shielded my eyes from the morning sun and looked up to see Professor Cavanaugh.
"Oi," I grumbled, too hungover to do much else. He was wearing athletic clothes and was sweating visibly and breathing hard. He sat down with his back against the tree.
"An ample supply of water should serve you well," he told me, and I shot him a quizzical, though still obviously suffering, look. He pulled a steel bottle out of his pocket and offered it to me. "Bottomless water bottle. Very handy. You may return it to me on Monday." I sat up and quelled the bile that wished to surface.
"Are you serious?" was all I could think to say. He nodded and I took it.
"I completely understand your situation, my friend," he said.
"These are supposed to be really valuable, and difficult to make," I muttered as I took off the lid and looked into the bottle. "Where'd you get it?"
"Ah, well, I used to be in the WPC...Wizard Peace Corps. These things are quite useful for third world countries. But I can tell that you're in need."
I chuckled and took a long draught of the cool, crisp water.
"Cheers, mate," I said as I wiped my mouth.
"Had a good night then, did you?" Cavanaugh asked as he lit a cigarette. I laughed.
"If only I could remember half of it. I'm sure it was fucking brilliant."
Cavanaugh laughed in response, and offered me the cigarette, but I refused, feeling my stomach flip.
"I suggest you drink a lot of pumpkin juice, too," he advised. "Vitamin C, you know?"
"Right. I'll keep that in mind." I drank a whole lot more water.
Cavanaugh left me at length, and the sun glided across the sky. I dozed off a couple times, only to be woken up by the wrenching sensation of sickness. At last, I felt the need to stand up. I did so, only to throw up a great deal of water. I felt quite thankful to Cavanaugh for the water bottle though, as I felt its effects. As well as the million times better ordeal of throwing up.
I found myself drifting into the Great Hall, my head in a strangely surreal space, where it felt completely exhausted and totally in pain, but also really faraway and slow and fuzzy. I sat down at the Gryffindor table and stared at a bowl of fruit for several minutes. My thoughts began to wander into strange alleyways. I began to wonder about things, like: how the hell did the first cavemen decide that a pineapple was edible? Really, it looks a hell of a lot more like a weapon. I'm grateful as hell that it was discovered, but that's really the weirdest thing. That'd be like me deciding to eat a mace. I wonder how many lives that thing could've taken in the beginning. Stupid creatures just sticking it down their throats. And how did they learn to copulate too...? And I wonder what would happen when women started having periods...ew. There'd just be gross stuff spewing out of them. I bet the early hominids would freak out and kill them or something...Why the hell am I thinking about this?
"You look braindead, Jamesie-poo."
"Huh?" I mumbled, looking up to see Lacey sitting beside me. "Oh, hi Lezzie." She gave me a narrow-eyed look.
"Ever heard of using people's names?" she asked, and I shook my head. "You look like shit, Potter," she added, and I chuckled.
"You have no idea what I'm going through," I groaned, putting my head down on the table. Lacey patted me on the back. I'm in too much anguish to even try to turn her straight. It's sad when I don't feel up to that.
"Fun last night?" she asked, and I burbled.
"Don't remember things that happened last night."
"Aahh, it was good then?" she laughed. "Jeez, Jamesie, I've seen you with hangovers before, but never this bad!" I made noises that were never intended to be words. "Sex?"
"Male," I grumbled.
"Ahem. Get laid?"
"No comment. Ask me in three weeks, when my brain recovers."
"Will do."
"You're my best female friend, you know that, Lace?"
"Are you still drunk, hun?"
"I'm serious, babe."
"Ew. Never call me that."
I lifted my head from the table.
"How's your love life, hm, Lace?" I asked. "You still going out with that...uh, what was her name?"
"Rachel? No, she went back to men," Lacey replied with a shrug. Through my stale alcohol-drenched eyes, I could see a despondent look in her brown eyes.
"You seem sad, sugartits."
"Dick." She glared at me, but then she smiled a sad smile. "You know me, James. I'm looking for nothing less than love. Powerful, lustful, all-consuming, fiery, passionate love. The kind of love that drives people mad. The kind of love that people write conflicted, angsty novels about. I want something that will make me feel, well, less empty." She sighed and rested her elbow on the table and her chin on her hand.
"You read way too much poetry." I shook my head.
"Romance novels too, naturally," she laughed. I rested my head on my arm, which laid across the table, and I looked at her askance. She's always been overdramatic, yet strangely passionate about most things in life. And honest as a block of wood. If blocks of wood are honest. At least, I believe that blocks of wood are honest about themselves. I doubt they go around pretending to be a tree or a chair...
"Ugh, morning Lacey," a voice came from beside Lacey. I looked up to see Rose with red hair sticking straight up in many places, very much resembling a bird's nest. She sat down at the table and her eyes drifted shut. She swayed back and forth a bit.
"That's a good look for you, Rose," I drawled, and she spotted me.
"Bloody hell," she murmured grumpily, standing up and beginning to walk away.
"Hey, come back, Rose. I'll keep him in check." Lacey grinned at the look I gave her. Rose sat back down though. She really looked too tired to move much anyway.
"I want you to know that I blame you entirely, Potter," she breathed with her eyes closed.
"Whaat? You're the one who got the alcohol," I retorted.
"Yes. And you're the one who insisted on shoving it down my throat at two a.m.," she snarled weakly.
"What?" I muttered. "I don't even remember anything past, I dunno, midnight? One?"
"Yeah, you were well pissed, mate," she nodded, a mocking smile sliding onto her face as she recalled. "Boy, you were right arsefaced." She began to laugh then. I feel great. Must find out what I did last night...
"So...?" I muttered. Rose looked at me, but as soon as she did that, she began laughing again. "For fuck's sake, Rose! What'd I do?" I couldn't get anything out of her. And anyway, the smell of food was upsetting me on a subterranean level. I'm not sure how it was a "subterranean" level. It just seemed right. And anyway, I'm James fucking Champion Potter. So, I'm always right. Right?
I left the Great Hall. Where could I go next? I pondered that for a while. If only, if only I could remember how the hell I got into the girls' dormitories. Maybe Teagan would know something about that. Back to the Gryffindor common room then, I suppose. Remind me again why Hogwarts doesn't have some sort of magical lifting mechanism. Something to eliminate painful stair torture.
Gryffindor was waking up. As I stepped through the portrait hole, I noticed several people sitting up and making the regular morning-after-severe-drinking remarks and/or well, just noises. I also noticed a few people milling about. I quickly scanned the bodies of still sleeping students that littered the floor, but none of them were the faces I was looking for. I made my way up to my dorm and then sat on my bed to recover from the effort.
My head was still spinning unpleasantly, but at least my stomach felt somewhat more at ease. I felt movement behind me then, and I turned to look. There was someone in my bed, the drunken bastard. I leaned over, though it nearly caused me to collapse on top of the stranger, and I found out that it was June. Her face was the calmest I think I'd ever seen it, with smudged makeup, and a little bit of dried drool. Oddly enough, her hair looked extremely shiny and soft. I really actually felt like touching it, that's how soft it looked. I began to reach over to her head, and that was when her arm suddenly jerked out and hit me in the face- hard. She opened her eyes, becoming aware of someone with her. Her eyes only registered a bleary confusion when she saw me.
"What are you doing here, wanker?" she muttered.
"This is my bed, Slag," I replied, with just a hint of a cheeky smile.
"Fuck off," she grumbled, rolling over.
"Oh no, this is my bed," I shook my head. That was, perhaps, a bad move. Head spinning. About to drop off to sleep in 5...4...3... I yawned, possibly the largest yawn of my entire existence. Well, I supposed I could just get in there and poke her in the back until she got fed up with it and rolled out to splay dead-like on the ground. Now that seemed like a brilliant plan. June or no June, I had to- yawn- sleep. I took my shoes off. Eyelids drooping. I pulled up the covers, to the mumbled, half-asleep protests of the other occupant of my bed. Oh, dear, sweet bed, how did I ever leave you? ...2...1... grunt, snore. Okay. So, the plan of ridding my bed of June didn't quite work...at all. But fuck was I tired.
By the end of the following week, I had pretty well gathered all the events of that night, from talking to people and actually remembering things (which didn't happen often). It went like this: about the time that I got really pissed, I came up with the brilliant scheme that we should go down to the Slytherins' dungeon common room (not that any of us actually knew the password, though, apparently that slipped all of our minds) and put a number of strange stuff all over their common room and dormitories. So Riley, Lucas, Henry, Marcy Cartwright, Teagan Finnigan, Amelia Longbottom, Donnie Macmillan and I went down to the dungeons. It had taken us a very long time, apparently, because we kept getting distracted by things or falling down or something like that. And (according to Henry, who wasn't nearly as drunk as the rest of us) Marcy kept jumping me, or I kept jumping her, or we mutually jumped, and went into some sloppy snog sesh.
When we finally got to the stone wall that was the entrance to the Slytherin common room, and when we found that we actually couldn't get in there, we had instead pulled out Amelia's box of large, neon, permanent crayons (that she apparently took with her everywhere) and written and drawn things on the walls and floor. I even went down there later to see and lord...it is a strange sight. Hilarious though, especially hearing how pissed off the Slytherins were about it. All worth it. Especially when I was given the opportunity to showcase my ability to draw a horse starting at the tail and not taking my crayon off the wall. It is a masterpiece. Even if I did end up drawing seven of them...in varying sizes and... hehe, levels of fitness. Lucas told me how bloody proud I was of the obese horse I drew. I was pointing at it and yelling and making damn well sure that everyone there saw it.
After the art show, we had gone outside and I had decided to first climb a tree, then dig a hole, then roll around in the grass. And then at last I had enthusiastically supported the idea of going for a swim in the lake. I wonder why it is that ninety percent of the times I get drunk, I insist on going swimming. Perhaps it's because I drink like a fish, therefore I choose to extend the metaphor. Or simile, rather...
I had allegedly dived in, then been pushed out by the giant squid, then I went back in again (angrily ranting about the creature not supporting my choices). The squid had pushed me out a second time. And that's when things had got ugly. A spited James Potter is a dangerous James Potter. The squid had declared war. I ran over to a tree, spent about ten minutes prying a branch off of it, and then I had jumped (bellowing a war cry) into the water. I had been thrashing around in the water, flailing my branch about every which way. This lasted for quite a while before I realized that the squid had lost interest in me and swam away. The slimy bugger. By that point I was quite tired, and I climbed out to sprawl on the bank. Then Amelia knelt beside me and began obsessively dipping the tips of her hair in the water.
Marcy leaned over me, and we engaged in a Spiderman-style snog, with me still lying, soaking wet, and her kneeling at my head. Lucas and Don, I believed, had commenced a mock boxing match, while Teagan, Riley and Henry cheered them on. After a few more frolics (where I think I had convinced everyone to imitate...someone), I ended up spewing into a cabbage patch. And all over myself. I think I did it a couple times, actually. Then Marcy kissed me again, apparently. Absolutely mental.
I then decided that, no, I wasn't going back in the lake, I needed to go right up to Gryffindor tower and take a shower. Nice rhyme. So, we started walking all the way back up, and we lost Lucas, Teagan and Marcy on the way. I actually recall having the conversation about how sad it was that there was only one girl left, and how we had better hurry up to the common room. And then Henry started making out with Amelia, possibly as a way to spite us.
The rest of the night, for me, pretty much involved me drinking more, then hitting on yet more girls (even the odd frightened, blushing first- or second-year every now and then). I also had many incidents of falling, tripping over things, pushing people over, or furniture over. Sometimes I conjured up strange, drunken half-spells that only added to the mess in the common room. Then I announced to the whole room that I was going to take a shower. And from that moment on, nobody knows what happened. Bollocks. No one knows how I got into the girls' dormitories. This is going to haunt me for the rest of my bleeding life. Mission: Infiltration of Girls' Dormitories is reactivated.
It was a gray Monday morning, and it was just beginning to warm up as I had to make my way down the stone stairs to the freezing dungeons and into the Potions classroom. I breezed into the class and sashayed over to the front where I leaned on the teacher's desk.
"I suggest you take a seat, Mr. Potter," Professor Abbascia said sternly as she looked up at me.
"Lovely to see you too, my darling," I raised my eyebrows at her suggestively. She couldn't stop a smile from sliding onto her face. "Your hair looks nice." I winked at her.
"James Potter," she said, "you could charm a fish to walk on dry land, but you can't charm me."
"Worth a shot though, eh?" I nodded at her. "Expect some of this every, oh let's see..." I referred to my timetable. "Every Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday." I made a clicking sound as I made a gun motion with my hand, then I sidled on to the back of the class. Don't let anyone tell you James Potter doesn't try to get Os in his classes. I happen to do a very admirable job.
As I sat down and pulled out my books, I happened to glance over at the other side of the classroom where I saw Scorpius Prick Malfoy and his delectable arm candy, Eve Stroud. Scorpius cast a quick, rather distasteful glance at me, then looked away, but the cool blue eyes of his girlfriend remained on me while she played the end of a quill about her lips. Then Scorpius nudged her arm to mutter something to her. She looked away, then back at me with a smile and a flick of her hair, and then she went back to talking to Scorpius. Oh yeah, that girl is into me.
After classes that would've been dull, if it weren't for my knack of making, well, anything ultimately enjoyable, the school day was finally over. And my only homework was...oh lord, a Potions essay on the properties of fungal remedies or whatnot. An essay? Not my thing. Lacey's kind of thing? Oh yes.
"Laaaceeyy," I sang as I waltzed over to her. She was in the typical nerdy girl position of sitting outside on a beautiful day on a bench with a book open on her lap. Not giving a hoot about fit boys like myself.
"Sod off, Potter, I've got a study session," she grumbled. Case and point. Ah well. I'm always up for a challenge.
"But, my beloved, I've got a wee problem."
She raised an eyebrow, then inclined her head, indicating that she would at least hear me out. Sympathetic-like.
"You see, I've been assigned a Potions essay," I smiled my million-galleon, James Potter smile. Melts the hearts of even the gayest witches. She twisted her mouth to the side.
"I might be able to help you if you come to the study session with me..." she started, and I cheered. "But!" she interrupted me, holding up a hand. "You probably won't want to come."
"Why not?"
"'Cause it's with Scorpius," she finished, and I groaned.
"Fuuuck!" I scowled. "Why him, Lace?"
"Uuh, because he's my best mate?"
"I thought I was your best mate!" I replied in a scandalized tone, putting a hand to my chest.
"So, do you still want my help?" Lacey asked.
The essay was due tomorrow, naturally. I nodded grudgingly.
"But so help me, if you become too much of a distraction, I swear I will transfigure you into a toad and put you on top of a bookshelf."
We met the blonde prat in the library. Lacey greeted him warmly while he and I exchanged surly nods. We all sat down at a table and Lacey pulled out her books, getting all business-like. Malfoy took his books out a lot slower and more reluctantly, and I just lounged back in my chair with my best "I don't give a fuck" expression. Lacey was supposed to be helping Scorpius with History of Magic. Hell, Lacey's not even taking seventh year History of Magic. I never understood how this girl could know all this stuff.
"So, let's see..." Lacey muttered, flipping through Scorpius's textbook. "Right. And that was the earliest known event of Voldemort's tyranny..." I scoffed.
"Would you look at that, you get to learn about your hero," I muttered under my breath, though still loud enough for the others to hear. Lacey turned to me with her lower jaw pushed out in her characteristic pissed off expression. I didn't look at her though, I was glaring at Scorpius, whose cold eyes narrowed.
"Anyway," Lacey growled forcefully, "you'll have to remember the important dates, like important murders, the height of his power, infiltration of the Ministry, etcetera..."
"Naaw, I'm sure he's got them all memorized already," I muttered. "Prob'ly has a lovely wall just filled with framed newspaper clippings. 'Aaww, Voldy's first day of school!' 'Aww, Voldy's first murder!' 'Oooh, Voldy's first horcrux, isn't that just darling?'" I said the last bit in a crooning grandmother sort of voice. Lacey was absolutely livid. Scorpius's face had turned a delicate shade of pink, and his jaw was firmly clenched.
"If you've got a problem with me, Potter, why don't you just say it straight up instead of trying to be a smartass about it?" he said in a low voice.
"No, hey, listen-!" Lacey started, desperately trying to avoid a scene.
"Okay, Malfoy," I said, taking the invitation with a smirk. "I've got a problem with your bleached blonde, pompous arse waltzing around the castle like you own it and then going home to your fat old daddy and laughing about the good times he had back in his Death Eater days."
Malfoy stood up abruptly, his chair shooting backwards with a loud screech. He was shaking with anger and his fists were clenched at his sides. I grinned at his outraged expression.
"Listen, Potter, you've got no right to talk about my family that way."
"Yeah? What're you gonna do about it, you big muggle-hater?" I prodded, standing up as well. "You gonna go cry to your bloated hooker mummy?"
"Stop being a fucking twat, James!" Lacey hissed firmly, grabbing my forearm and looking around the library for Mrs. Fornswore, the librarian.
"Don't call me that!" I groaned, shaking her hand off of me.
"You think you're such a fucking hot shot just because your old man is "the Chosen One". Well listen up, mate, that's absolutely nothing to do with you," Malfoy fumed at me in a shaking voice and I could feel myself heating up. "You're just a pretentious little prick with a big mouth and a conceited fucking attitude that he inherited from his bigheaded father."
"Shut the fuck up! You don't know shit about me!" I absolutely bellowed at him.
"Yeah, and you don't know anything about me," he returned, just as loudly, "so why don't you just mind your own fucking-" I didn't let him finish.
"Levicorpus!" I called as soon as I'd whipped my wand out. He promptly flipped upside down to hang in the air, his face going even redder.
"Flipendo!" he said. I hadn't even finished chuckling when I was unceremoniously forced through the air in a complete 360 to land flat on my back. Malfoy had landed as well, but I was up before him, and I pointed my wand at him again.
"Langlock!" I grunted. He scowled as his tongue was quickly fastened to the roof of his mouth. I started laughing all over again, but he flicked his wand at me and cast a silent jelly-legs jinx on me. I swore loudly as my legs began to shake uncontrollably. The bastard. I never did quite master non-verbal spells. I stuck my wand out, finding it difficult to keep it steadily pointed at Scorpius while my entire body wobbled around. "Rictusempra!" He stumbled and clutched his stomach, making mute noises as he was mercilessly tickled. Now I grinned. I raised my wand again, but before I could do anything, the two of us were drenched in freezing cold water. The next few events happened only in a matter of seconds: both our wands flew out of our hands, my legs stopped shaking, Scorpius stopped being tickled and his tongue went back to normal. Then Lacey stomped over and picked up our wands.
"Merlin's beard, you two!" she spat in a dangerously low voice. Surprisingly enough, Mrs. Fornswore was nowhere to be seen. "Potter! Leave this instant." She gave me that strong-jawed, fiery-eyed death stare and thrust my wand back into my hand roughly. Her eyes followed me until I'd stepped out into the hallway, past all the curious students who had been watching, but now pretended that they hadn't been.
My adrenaline was still pumping as I stood outside the library. I wanted to continue fighting. But I knew what would happen: I would get caught and get another lousy detention. Lacey would also give me the hugest bitch treatment I could ever get. And Lacey is a good person to have on your side, especially when it comes to schoolwork. I wondered if she'd still help me with my essay...
I scuffed my feet on the stone floor, then I decided I'd go out for a smoke.
I climbed all the way up to the top of the Astronomy tower, in the mood for a good dose of fresh air combined with an incredible view of the school grounds and the forbidden forest. When I neared the doorway, I saw that there was already someone there.
A sheet of dazzling dark chocolate hair fell loosely down the back of a slim, yet still delightfully curvy girl. Her long legs stretched across the stone ledge as she leaned her back against a column. She raised her entrancing eyes to me as I moved forward. Her full lips slid into a sultry smile as her eyes greeted me. I felt a little stunned, but only for half a second, then I flashed her my special dripping-with-charm grin.
"Heey, Eve," I said. Heey? What's wrong with me? I covered it up with a ruffle of my hair. She smiled in response, her eyes sparkling mysteriously. "Nice day, huh?" Nice day, huh? Get your head in the game, James Potter!
"It is," Eve said in a smooth voice. "I love the transition from summer to winter, don't you?"
"Yeah...that, uh, that would be called Fall. Though some refer to it as Autumn..." I felt like boxing my ears.
"I think it's beautiful. Perfect for just laying in bed, or in front of a fireplace, or taking a hot shower."
The image of her naked in a shower flashed before my eyes. It just happened; I swear. But oh, was it nice. I shook my head and looked back at her. Her expression was playful, as far as I could tell.
"So, I hear you and Scorpius are pretty close?" I scoffed, raising my eyebrow at her. Lord, I know I can be attractive when I try. Oh, who am I kidding? I don't need to try. She tilted her head, then she stood up.
"He's very good-looking," she shrugged, speaking in a low, softly flowing voice, "but I've always been partial to darker-haired men." A smile played about her lips, as she breezed past me. She moved like a swan gliding across the undisturbed surface of a lake. Her hand barely caressed my messy hair as she passed by me. It sent a slight shiver through my body. I turned around, but she was already descending the spiral stairs. I let out a breath. So into me.
I lit a cigarette and breathed in that sweet, sweet death. It wasn't long before I was feeling dizzy and lightheaded. I swear to Merlin, no matter how much I smoke, it still goes straight to my head. Usually can't walk straight after one cigarette. I rested my elbows on the ledge and looked at the grounds below. My eyes caught on the scene of Riley, Aura, Marcy and Lucas walking together along the grass. Aura was angrily gesticulating, as usual, and if I knew Riley, he was trying to make her feel better. Lucas was probably there to talk to her about Head Girl/Head Boy matters, or he was just there for Riley. And Marcy was Aura's friend. Hmmm...note to self: get Rye a girlfriend and help him get over Aura.
Hmm perhaps I need a list of my current missions. Alright, here goes. Number one: infiltrate the girls' dorms; number two: get Riley a girlfriend; number three: hook up with Eve Stroud; number four: do cruel, cruel things to Scorpius Malfoy...anything else?
Note to self: update list when new missions arise.
Another note: write down list of current missions.