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39
OF HUNGRY HEARTS
AND HALF-SMILES
MUSICAL MOOD FOR THIS CHAPTER:
YONAKA - GUILTY (ACOUSTIC)
"It's really none of my business where Potter spends his nights and I couldn't care less."
My head was swimming - throbbing, really - but I'd already rubbed my temples sore, sitting through a two-hour prefect meeting without any success in relieving the pain. Listening to the heads explaining the new security charms system that had been put into place all over the castle, I had felt like a double agent - a really shitty double agent who bungled the simplest tasks.
As Edgar and Daphne had kept droning on about the locations of surveillance gargoyles, I could feel myself sliding lower and lower in my chair, treacherous heat pooling in my face. I was sure that if someone had just looked at me long enough they would have seen the shame of betrayal all over my face. I prayed to Circe that McGonagall would never find out that she had reinstated me as a prefect and I went behind her back like an ungrateful brat to brew an illegal duplicate of an illegal potion.
Only that I couldn't now; not with so many security measurements in place that every classroom was effectively useless. I had two bleeding weeks to knock out a good enough dupe of a dangerous potion - which I wasn't even sure I could do in the first place - with a bunch of lunatics breathing down my neck and threatening to hurt my friends if I failed. And right now, it looked like failure was inevitable.
"I don't think I'm good at this."
It took me a moment to surface from my malstrom of thoughts, my mind still dancing at the edge of a panic attack when I looked up at Hector who was frowning deeply at the blob of red glitter on the T-shirt in front of him, dark eyebrows furled.
"Just… swish it around a bit." Sam made a flourishing gesture with his hand, sprinkling some of his own glitter over the floor in the process. The house elfs would definitely not be too chuffed with us.
Hector shook his head, dragging the back of his hand across his forehead to swipe away the wavy strands of black hair that had fallen into his eyes. "I think I fucked it up."
"No, come on." Sam leaned in towards him a bit to examine the T-shirt and then began to move his brush through the pools of glitter, dragging it into the shape of a large heart. His movements were slow and patient as he worked while Hector's eyes were entirely focused on him, a soft smile curling his mouth as he watched his boyfriend's features like he had never seen anything so fascinating.
"Hattie said that James was so bollocksed, he practically had to crawl up the stairs to the dorms."
"And it wasn't his own room he went to either."
There was a cascade of giggles and I tilted my head up absently, just to find a group of fifth year girls giving me sidelong glances as they walked by. It didn't even seem to bother them that I had noticed until Hector straightened his back - impressive Quidditch captain stance, broad shoulders and everything - and glared at them until they scurried away.
"Are you alright?"
I nodded quickly and then forced my attention back to the brush in my hand. "Why wouldn't I be?" I narrowed my eyes at the wonky 'K' I had just painted, wishing I had bought a second T-shirt to fall back on. By the looks of it, I wasn't much better at handling the glitter than Hector. "It's really none of my business where Potter spends his nights and I couldn't care less."
Maybe the mangled laugh that had pushed its way up my throat didn't sound quite as nonchalant as I had hoped and, clearly, Hector and Sam didn't buy it. I could tell even without looking up from the DIY catastrophe in front of me that they exchanged a weird sort of glance when they thought I wasn't looking.
But I couldn't go there; I didn't want to. Especially not with everything else that was going on.
"Shit." I pressed the heel of my hand against my pulsing temple, staring at the mediocre result of two hours' work. There was no question that Katie could have done this a million times better, but it was the thought that counted, right? "It's not going to get any better than this."
"It's good," Sam said and I grinned at him.
"Liar. But thanks." I pushed myself up from the common room floor, which took a lot more effort than it should have, and rolled down the sleeves of my jumper before hoisting one strap of my backpack onto my shoulder. I was absolutely hopeless with the glitter-glue, but I still would have preferred our amateur craft circle to spending the better part of my Sunday afternoon with James.
The weather was this in between thing; like it was reluctant to move on from winter, keeping spring wrapped into moody fog and rainy afternoons that filled the castle with permanent soft patter and the smell of grass. The heavy scent of wet earth had slunk even to the intricate corridors of the dungeons and I took a deep breath, hoping to ease the tension behind my chest that had gotten worse with every turn I had taken. There was still a chance that James wouldn't show up considering the state he had been in yesterday night, and my heart flinched when I imagined him; strands of dark hair against a white pillow, stretching lazily in Athena's bed.
"James."
It was as though my thoughts had somehow conjured her up out of thin air. I had stopped dead in my tracks, stumbling backwards and throwing myself against the wall as soon as I had spotted Athena and James around the corner. Her voice was breathy, barely more than a moan, and there was a stretch of silence that I didn't even want to begin to interpret, but then James's voice echoed along the hallway.
"Don't."
"What?" There was something petulant about her tone, almost frantic, and I closed my eyes, praying that they weren't coming closer; that they wouldn't find me here, listening in like a complete creep. I tried to slow down my breathing as much as possible, even as my manic heart was hellbent on messing things up, thinking of ways to get out of this. But James's voice cut through my thoughts like a knife.
"You know what. Jesus Christ, we've talked about this, Thena."
I held my breath as his words ricocheted from the high ceiling, leaving a tense silence in their wake. It felt profoundly wrong to witness this - whatever it was - but I just couldn't move.
"Fine."
I realised it too late - that the rapid staccato of Athena's heels was getting closer - and so I could do nothing but stand there like an idiot, my books pressed against my chest as she rounded the corner. Her eyes widened when she saw me but it took her less than a second to rearrange her features, her full lips curling into a smirk so fast that I could have imagined the frown on her face.
For a moment, I was sure she'd call me out. But she said nothing, her eyes sliding over my jeans and jumper before she tossed her head back and just walked away, hips swinging like nothing was wrong.
Right.
I exhaled slowly and then tightened my grip around the books I was carrying in my arms before walking around the corner, taking fast strides towards the Potions classroom at the end of the hall. James was nowhere to be seen and I was relieved for the reprieve. At least I could collect myself a bit more before having to pretend that I had not been spying on his lovers' quarrel with Athena.
Or had it been a lovers' quarrel? I had simply assumed, but they could have been talking about anything, really.
I was so deeply immersed in my thoughts that I wasn't paying much attention when I walked into the classroom, and so it took me a second to understand the sudden impact that threw me off balance, threatening to drag me down. But James's arms had circled my waist, steadying me before I even knew I was falling, and I tumbled into him, my books toppling to the floor as I stepped onto his trainers.
"Shit, I'm sorry..." I stammered, just as he said, "Woah, Woodley!" and then I looked up, still entangled in his arms, my eyes finding his smile because I knew it was there: lopsided and barely a grin, yet enough to make my stomach swoop.
"Are you alright?" He asked and I shook my head automatically, mostly at the raspy quality of his voice that did not help the situation.
At all.
"Yeah!" I stumbled backwards, effectively breaking our haphazard embrace, and pushed my hair behind my ears. They felt treacherously hot and the realisation only intensified my blush. The amount of times I had ended up in James Potter's arms this year was ridiculous and I had to pull myself together. "I just - I didn't look where I was going. Sorry."
He was still looking at me as he slid his hands into the pockets of his joggers. The smile had faded a bit, but it was still there, playing on his lips as his eyes fixated on mine. They were a little duller than usual, the dark amber slightly muddled, and there were purple shadows underneath them, standing out against his sallow skin. He couldn't have gotten much sleep last night.
"Um, should we get started?" I said quickly and began to pick up the books from the floor, glad for an excuse to look away from James. He still hadn't said anything and everything felt phenomenally awkward; even more so when he crouched down as well to collect the remaining books and we accidentally reached for the same one, hands brushing in the process like the worst cliché.
My breath hitched in my throat and I pulled back much too quickly to pass my reaction off as anything even remotely casual. I couldn't keep doing this; jump every time we randomly touched.
"Seth..." James's low voice trailed off, fading into the sound of rain tapping against the charmed windows, and it felt like my heart had crawled up my throat in an attempt at escaping the confines of my chest. He tousled the back of his head, exposing the fine, black markings along the inside of his biceps, and I wrapped my arms a little tighter around the books I was cradling, using them as a physical barrier between us.
It was then that my eyes caught on a miniscule movement in the corner behind James and I shifted my gaze momentarily, finding the ugly grimace of the stone creature that squatted in the dark, its dead eyes staring straight back at me.
So Edgar and Daphne hadn't exaggerated about the increased security measures.
"Is... something wrong?" James frowned at me and then turned his head, his eyes trailing towards the corner I had been staring at.
"Um, no." I shook my head and walked over to one of the desks where I began to lay out the books and ingredients on the work surface, avoiding looking at him. Everything was wrong - absolutely everything - and I was barely hanging on by a thread, but I couldn't go to pieces; not when so much was at stake. And so I took one last, deep breath before turning around again, forcing the corners of my mouth into a smile that felt more like a grimace.
"Let's just get started, yeah?"
There were three of them - at least - but I couldn't be sure that I hadn't missed any. Mostly, they were entirely inconspicuous - expected, really at a castle like Hogwarts - but now and then I would catch them turning their heads just enough to remind me that they were watching. It seemed that McGonagall had been quite thorough with the placement of the charmed statues and it was all I could do to not drown in my spiralling thoughts.
"Hey, am I doing this right?"
"Um, yeah." I nodded, though I had barely registered what James had said. My mind was too wrapped up in the hopelessness of my situation; so much so that I did a spectacularly lousy job of slicing up my Sopophoros roots, making them much too chunky. It was hard to focus on anything other than the mind numbing panic I felt at having so carelessly put my friends at risk, just because I had fancied myself to be smarter than everybody else. Because I had been presumptuous and reckless enough to think that I could take on a semi-professional collective of certified lunatics by myself.
"Woodley?"
"Hm, what?" I snapped my head up momentarily, my gaze swivelling in on James, and his eyes widened even before I felt the stinging pain in my left index finger.
"Shit." He dropped his knife and grabbed my hand, splattering drops of blood all over the work surface.
My hand was shaking, even though I barely felt the pain as I watched my blood well up from the gash that sliced into the side of my finger. It almost felt like my brain didn't have the capacity to process the fact that I had cut myself and so I could do nothing but stare at James when he grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and began to dab at the wound, wiping off my blood.
"It's not that deep."
"What- what are you doing?" I said stupidly as I watched him dig his hand into the backpocket of his joggers and pull out his wallet, all the while still pressing his shirt against my finger where red stains were blooming on the white cloth like grotesque flowers.
"I'm a big brother," he said, flashing me a soft smile and then one-handedly fishing out a plaster. "I'm prepared for this."
I followed his movements as he tore the paper sleeve off with his teeth quite expertly and then wrapped the plaster around my finger, covering the cut entirely. It was pink and had tiny pygmy puffs on it and I felt a violent lurch behind my chest.
"I got them for Lily," James said when he looked up at me, probably thinking I was staring at him because of the childish pattern and not because he had just patched me up like it was nothing; like that was just something he did. "They'll speed up the healing process."
"I - um..." I dropped my gaze to my hand again, frowning at the cheerful plaster that was entirely at odds with the blood stains on James's T-shirt. My head was spinning and I tried to sort out the mess of volatile thoughts and emotions, but everything just sloshed together, like waves colliding in the ocean.
"Hey..." James said softly, his voice warm and scratchy and comforting like the crackling fire in the common room on a stormy evening, and I bit the inside of my cheek, refusing to look up at him. I couldn't deal with this - him - right now; with his stupid half-smiles that felt like they were only for me even though I knew better. And so I cleared my throat and stepped back, pulling my hand out of his.
"Thank you." I tried to smile, hoping to cut through the weirdness, just as the door to the classroom creaked open and Professor Slughorn came in, carrying a crate of what looked like salt licks.
"Don't mind me you two. Just have to prepare for tomorrow's class on memory potions." He beamed at us and then began to hum something disturbingly cheerful as he made for his desk, completely ignorant of the awkward tension or the splatters of fresh blood on the floor and James's T-shirt.
Sunday's bleary mood had bled into Monday morning as the weak sun struggled to break through the dense fog that crawled up the castle grounds. There were a few fragments of weekend gossip that bubbled up here and there, scraps of who snogged whom and who was caught drinking by Filch, mingling with the monotonous scratching of quills on paper that filled the Arithmancy classroom.
I shook my head, trying to block out the distractions as I forced my attention back to the calculations on my parchment. Instead, my eyes caught on the strip of pink that was wound around my index finger and my heart stumbled. I didn't want to think about him, but lately it seemed as though I could do little else. When I wasn't worrying about being blackmailed into brewing an illegal potion, I was thinking about James Potter.
Something bumped against my elbow and I looked up to find the room busy with people pushing towards the exit. I hadn't even noticed that the lesson had ended and I quickly began to pack up my things that I had spread across the entire half of the table. Just when I wanted to close my book, though, I noticed a strip of paper that hadn't been there before, the writing on it neat and loopy: 2 weeks. We're watching you.
As if I didn't know I was running out of time.
I took a look around the classroom even though I knew I wouldn't find anything and then stuffed the message into my skirt pocket, my heart pounding in my ears. All the way down the hallway, I was fighting the looming wave of panic that washed against me, tugging on my skin, threatening to pull me under. Every face I passed looked hostile, sneering, and I walked even faster as though I could outrun the titlewave of fear that bit at my heels.
It was only when I rounded the corner and spotted Katie behind a group of Hufflepuffs, waiting at the foot of the stairs where we usually met to go to charms together, that the brunt of the panic subsided. I couldn't tell her about the note, even though I wanted to so badly. But this was my mess and I had involved her more than I should have already; all of my friends, really.
I took a deep breath to steady myself, to hide the constant prickle of panic I felt, but then the cluster of Hufflepuffs moved and my breath hitched in my throat when I realised that she wasn't alone. Right there next to her stood James, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his trousers, his face intent as he nodded along softly to whatever Katie was saying. Her cheeks were flushed and she was clutching a book to her chest, her lips moving rapidly. When she finally stopped, James pulled his hand out of his pocket and dragged it through his hair. I wish I had been closer so that I could understand what they were saying, but the hallway was too noisy and when another flush of people spilled down the stairs I lost sight of them altogether.
Slowly, I started moving again, unsure of what I was going to do once I had reached them; if I was going to do anything. After all, Katie could talk to whomever she wanted and James definitely wasn't accountable to me. But it was so strange to see them together like this and I just couldn't think of what they might have been discussing so intensely. Before I could make up my mind, however, I had reached the landing and Katie gave me a wave when she saw me emerge from the crowd.
I was somewhat relieved to find that James had gone.
"Hey, there you are," she said as though everything was as it always was and gave me a smile. "How was your nerd class?"
I wanted to go along with her pretence. I wanted to laugh and shrug my shoulders and complain about the amount of Arithmancy homework I would have to do in the evening. But, unfortunately, my mind had other plans.
"What - what did you talk to James about?"
Katie blinked, the smile slowly dwindling as she seemed to weigh her options. We had known each other for so long that I could see her thoughts playing out on her face as she considered possible answers; as she considered lying to me. But then, her tense expression deflated and she sighed as she gave me a sheepish look. "I - I might have told him about the blackmailing."
"WHAT? Katie," I said too loudly, attracting a number of curious stares and Katie shushed me immediately before pulling me to the side a little, shielding us from unwanted onlookers.
"I'm sorry, OK?"
"Why would you do that?" I could hear the panic in my voice, how it made the ends of my words brittle until the sound fizzled out. I couldn't deal with this - any of it.
"I - I don't know…" She stammered, looking oddly helpless. "He's got those eyes, and the hair, and the shoulders. It's hard to think when I'm at eye-level with a chest like that."
I groaned, feeling a sinking sensation as I thought about James. He knew now - knew what I had gotten myself involved with - and I felt tainted, dirty. Maybe he would reconsider believing me about not poisoning his brother after all. I would.
"Great. Just great."
"I'm sorry," Katie said again, this time softer, and her hands grabbed mine like she was about to plead with me. "He's just worried about you. We all are."
Worried.
James was worried about me?
Stupidly, I let the thought push all other thoughts from my mind for a second, but then the rest of Katie's words registered and jolted me out of my stupor.
"Wait, you all are?"
"I - um…" She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and I didn't need to hear her say it to know what she had done.
"Kat."
"Tarquin kind of figured it out," she spluttered, the words tumbling out as though they had been waiting on the tip of her tongue all this time. "I didn't have to say anything. And Sam and Hector -"
"They know too? Circe, Katie." I wanted to pull my hands from her grasp, to throw them up in frustration, but she was clutching them like she was afraid I would run away.
Maybe I would have. I definitely wanted to.
"I told you. We're worried about you."
"So you've been talking about me behind my back?" I sounded too aggressive, even to my own ears, but I felt helpless and so angry that, for a moment, I could barely breathe.
"Seth -"
"No, Katie. You don't understand." I could barely hear myself over the whooshing noise that had filled my ears, still unable to regain control over the jumble of emotions that clouded my thoughts. "If anything happens to any of you, it's on me. I can't live with that."
The strip of paper in my pocket felt heavy, dragging me down as I desperately tried to stay afloat, and I wanted nothing more but to pull it out and set it on fire; to reduce it to a pile of ashes. But it wouldn't change anything, of course. It wouldn't save Katie or Tarquin or Hector or Sam or James. It wouldn't make the fear that had been gnawing on me for days go away.
"That's bollocks!" Katie said so fiercely that bits of spit flew from her mouth and landed on my sweatshirt. "And if you stopped being so incredibly stubborn for just one second you would see that!"
I shook my head before I could even form the words in my head. She didn't understand. It was one thing to put myself in danger. It was another to do it to my friends. "I - I have to go," I whispered and then pulled myself free of Katie's hold who stumbled backwards from the impact, unable to stop me as I turned around and walked away.
There had been spots of sunshine - weak, pale light, filtering through the stained glass windows, dappling the rough stone floor - but the blanket of clouds was too dense to allow it to last. A languid sort of mood had infiltrated the classroom as Professor Mackingby elaborated on the dangers of experimenting with unauthorised spell modification and even though I tried to pay attention, my mind kept slipping to the note I had stuffed into my skirt pocket.
We're watching you.
I let my gaze slide across the room, not sure what exactly I was looking for. There were only seven sixth years who even took Spell Theory and none of them seemed particularly likely to partake in illegal potions dealing and blackmailing in their free time.
The rustling of paper followed by the distinct sound of chairs scraping on the floor jolted me out of my thoughts suddenly and I looked up to find my classmates in the middle of packing up, their careless conversations about dinner and menu options floating around me. Mondays always felt particularly long, especially with a bunch of psychopaths breathing down your neck.
I had stuffed my Spell Theory textbook into my backpack and followed Yash Patil and his friend out of the classroom, my thoughts still circling back to the ominous note that was burning a hole into my pocket. It was because of this that it took me a second to fully register the weird sort of stifled giggles and whispering from the girls behind me and I automatically looked up, stopping dead in my tracks as I spotted him; James was leaning against the hallway wall opposite the classroom, hands in his pockets and the sleeves of his uniform sweatshirt pushed up to his elbows and, for a moment, I thought I had forgotten about our tutoring session.
But we hadn't scheduled one for today, had we?
"Hey," he said and his mouth curved into a soft smile as he pushed himself off the wall and walked up to me. "How's your finger?" And then, without any sort of warning, he reached out and took my hand, frowning slightly at my index finger. It was still wrapped into the pygmy puff plaster that he had patched me up with yesterday and I felt my cheeks glow all the way to my ears; because I hadn't changed it, because I felt so awkward, because it had been kind and sweet and I really didn't want to think of him that way.
"I - um - good." I slid my hand out of his when Harley Haverston and her friend ogled us as they walked by much too slowly to be anywhere near casual, and wrapped it around the strap of my backpack. "What are you doing here?"
He shrugged, nonchalant as ever. "Have to check in on my favourite patient, don't I?"
I wished I hadn't felt the flutter behind my chest when his voice dipped and his dimple showed, but the sensation was hard to ignore. James had always been objectively attractive - which was proven by the sheer amount of eyes that always seemed to be glued to him wherever he went - but I knew that I hadn't thought of him like that; not for a long time. Not like I had thought about Jasper Holt in my third year or about last year's headboy Sebastian Thomas. I would roll my eyes and shake my head at Katie for waxing poetic about James's physical attributes, trying to get her to shut up by throwing my pillow at her. And I didn't know when it had changed - what had changed - but I could see it all and I wondered if it would ever go away again.
Merlin, I hoped it would go away again.
"Let's go, Woodley."
"What?" I frowned at James but he only smiled and, after taking a few steps backwards, he just turned around and walked away, leaving me to stare after him for a confused moment. "Hey, wait! Where are you going?"
He turned back towards me, albeit not stopping to walk, and the look on his face was a strange mixture of amusement and something I couldn't quite place. "I want to show you something."
There was something else too, but I decided to focus on the familiar prickle of frustration that I had come to specifically associate with James, watching him weave through the languidly ambling students and struggling to keep up with his long strides as I kept bumping into people. "Potter what - "
"You'll see." He looked over his shoulder, maybe to see if I was still following him, and I stopped momentarily and crossed my arms.
"No. I'm not doing this."
"What?" He stopped and turned around, looking at me for a long moment before walking back until he was standing in front of me again. We were in a sea of moving bodies and people kept bumping into us from all sides, but I pretended I didn't notice. Just like I pretended that I didn't notice the weird glances and whispers that increasingly drifted our way.
"I'm not following you like an idiot to Merlin knows where."
James looked like he was going to laugh; his lips twitched and he shook his head just the slightest bit before he groaned. "Woodley."
"Potter," I said because I didn't know what else to say. He couldn't show up out of nowhere and expect me to fall in line just because he said so. Also, I was mildly terrified; hanging out with James outside of the carefully constructed confines that contained our social interactions had so far ended in absolute disaster - every time - and I was not keen on repeating the experience.
James narrowed his eyes at me and I was sure that he would argue but, instead, he turned and walked away. I watched him stride towards the entrance doors, stepping into the cylinder of weak light that pooled in, and then he pivoted around again, walking backwards slowly, half-smile in place. "Are you coming or what?"
People were full-on staring by now, unabashedly, and I wished they would all just stop. "I -" I shifted my weight and then huffed in frustration before running to catch up with him. "Bloody clodpole."
He snorted as he fell into step with me. "Did you just call me a clodpole?"
"No," I mumbled and rolled my eyes, but I felt better as we stepped out onto the grounds, away from all the prying eyes and pointed whispers. "I called myself one, obviously. Look, does this have to be now?" I thought about the note in my skirt pocket - the fact that I was running out of time and ideas and probably my sanity - but James didn't slow down, marching purposefully past the stone circle and towards the cluster of greenhouses that were grouped along the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
"You've made it pretty clear that you don't like skipping class, so yes, it has to be now, while everyone's at dinner." He had turned his head a little, speaking over his shoulder, and I thought about the time he had gotten me out of sports with a fake note to hang out with him and his friends. I had barely known him back then and it felt like a million years ago.
A few stragglers were running past us up towards the castle - third or fourth years by the looks of it - their eyes sliding over us before they dissolved into manic giggles and I groaned inwardly because I knew what they were thinking, of course. The less deadly edge of the Forbidden Forest was, after all, a very popular hook-up spot. "I swear Potter, if this is some dumb practical joke, I - "
"Jesus, a little trust, Woodley, yeah?" James had taken a sharp left turn and I struggled to keep up, still not sure where exactly he was taking me. We had reached the greenhouses by now and I thought that it was weird somehow to see them empty and calm like this; Herbology lessons were always noisy, filled with chatter and occasional shireks, but now, as we weaved through them, their glass panes softly illuminated by the pale yellow light of the setting sun, they looked serene.
I noticed too late that James had stopped walking and I stumbled as he grabbed the sleeve of my uniform sweatshirt and pulled me back against him. For a moment I only stared at him, heart pounding in my chest. My hands had landed on his shoulders and I could feel his grip on my elbow tighten as the expression on his face changed to something else; something heady and reckless that seemed to charge the air around us and, for a second, I thought that he would kiss me.
Maybe a small part of me hoped he might.
But then I remembered it; how I had found him in the forest once before, with his hand under Athena's skirt and his face buried in her neck. I remembered her crumpled top on the leafy ground and her hand clutching at his hair and it jolted me out of this weird daze that had addled my brain for a moment.
"What are we doing here, Potter?" I said and twisted out of his hold like I hadn't noticed the weirdness between us to have a proper look around. We had ventured away from the collection of pristine greenhouses, a little further towards the edge of the forest, and it took me a moment to make sense of what I was seeing. Right there, apart from the others where no student ever ventured, stood a glasshouse I had never noticed before. It looked like the woods had claimed it for its own; vines and tendrils climbed through broken glass panes, twisting into the darkness, interweaving with the forest like long-lost lovers that had finally been reunited. "What is this?"
"Greenhouse One." I watched James as he walked towards the glass-panelled front and pulled the door open with a creak that sounded through the woods.
"There is no Greenhouse One."
"Yes there is," he said and took a step to the side, holding the door open for me like we were at a fancy restaurant. I shifted my weight and took a look around; this surely couldn't be legal. The greenhouse looked like it might collapse any second and the green tinge of the cracked windows felt ominous - foreboding even - like I didn't want to find out what lived in there, but then my curiosity got the better of me.
"It's been abandoned for ages," James said as I walked past him, closing the door behind us, "Freddie, Augustus and I come here sometimes to smoke gillyweed."
I whirred around to frown at him. "Stop telling me these things. I'm a prefect."
He laughed - of course - and ambled up to me slowly, his eyes dark and unreadable. "You're about to brew an illegal potion, Woodley. You're in a literal glass house."
I knew Katie had told him, but hearing him say it out loud like this still made my stomach clench. I understood then - what this was, why he had brought me here. The note in my pocket suddenly felt heavy like a stone, weighing me down. I tried to breathe evenly, deeply, as I walked further into the domed structure, leaves and twigs crunching under the soles of my sneakers, passing by overgrown desks and shattered pots that had been devoured by the plants they had once held. I should have felt relieved - elated even - but the anxiety I had felt at not knowing where to even brew the potion was easily replaced by the fear of what came next.
It was like a Hydra: one head down, two fresh ones to battle.
I felt it too late - the vertigo that threw me off balance - and I let my back fall against the moss covered glass wall before sliding all the way down to the ground, the heels of my hands pressed against my eyes in a childish attempt at stopping the tears that were already blurring the edges of my vision.
"Shit."
"Woodley?" James sounded weird, unlike him, but I couldn't look up. I hadn't meant for this to happen - to break down like this in front of him - but after walking at the edge of the cliff for days, amateurishly balancing the ledge like I could still salvage this, I had finally slipped and there was nothing to cushion my fall.
"It feels like I'm losing control." My words were shaky and brittle as I said them into my palms - ragged things that were horrifying because they were true - and I suddenly felt ashamed; because I was so weak, because I was cowering on the floor like a pathetic idiot, crying in front of James, because I just couldn't stop.
James hadn't said anything and, for a moment, I thought that he might have left - I somehow wished he had - but then I heard the sound of his trainers rustling up the leaves on the floor and the glass pane shuddered against my back as he, too, sank down to the floor next to me.
I could feel his arm pressing lightly against my shoulder, his leg next to mine, and I turned my face away from him a little to covertly wipe my tears into the sleeve of my sweatshirt like he hadn't already seen them. But I liked how he felt next to me; solid and real and warm.
"Since I can remember, there's been a dumb story about my family in the papers every week." His voice was low and rumbling, like he was telling a bedtime story, and I looked up at him, studying his posture: he had his legs propped up and his arms resting on his knees, gaze fixed on the thin tendrils of moonlace that snaked along the floor. "Just dragging us out and through the dirt for shite like wearing joggers to the supermarket or something equally dumb."
I snorted quietly because it sounded so ridiculous, even though I knew it was true, and James bumped his shoulder into mine, a soft smile playing on his lips as he looked at me. "Yeah, you're laughing, Woodley, but it was quite the scandal, really: 'James in Joggers: Is Potter losing his edge?'" He huffed and when he leaned his head against the glass I noticed that the cords of muscles that ran along his neck were tense, all the way up to his jaw. "And I have no fucking control over that."
I was still looking at him; at his profile, the slight kink on the bridge of his nose, the pale freckles, the angular line of his jaw. I had thought that he was trying to diffuse the awkwardness by making me laugh about silly headlines, but he wasn't. He wasn't joking at all.
"How do you handle it?"
James shrugged and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "Poorly, obviously. Mum and Dad tried their best to keep that shitshow away from us, but there's really only so much they can do."
I wasn't prepared when he turned his head towards me - for how close it suddenly put us - and so I dropped my gaze to my legs where tendrils of moonlace had already wrapped around my calves and knees.
"I'm Harry Potter's oldest son," James said, unable to hide the bitter tone in his voice, and I looked up at him again, just to find him frowning at my legs where the moonlace was winding its way up to my thighs. "Sometimes it feels like there's this insane pressure on me. That everyone is expecting me to be a certain way - to do certain things."
He cut his gaze up to me, still frowning, dark eyebrows furrowed as though he was waiting for me to say something, but I didn't know what. My thoughts had turned into these flighty things that clung to the rumpled cloth of his sweatshirt and the gleaming flakes of gold in his eyes and that one freckle on the tip of his nose. The best I could do was to focus on the moonlace that had crawled up his arm and now slowly coiled around his shoulder.
"OK, should I be worried?" James said, his eyes darting to the thin vine that had reached the nape of his neck by now, nuzzling gently into his hair, almost like it was caressing him.
"It's just moonlace."
"Yeah, but is it going to strangle me?"
I laughed and shook my head, watching the tendrils curl above his left ear. "I think it likes you." I reached out and prodded the touch-sensitive plant, accidentally brushing my hand against James's cheek in the process. He took in a sharp breath, just as the moonlace recoiled with a jolt, and I dropped my hand momentarily.
What the bloody hell was I doing?
I tried to look unfazed, like I couldn't feel it; how my heart had untethered itself behind my chest. My eyes were firmly fixed on the moonlace that still crawled up my legs and I thought that, if I didn't move, I might just become part of this weird, green world that seemed entirely apart from the castle; unspoiled by the mundane ins and outs of the hundreds of students that came so close every day but never close enough.
"Woodley," James said, low and sure, and I looked up at him, certain that he could feel my heart palpitations as they vibrated through my body. His gaze was intense - burning into me - and I wished my breath didn't feel so ragged and shaky, but there was nothing I could do. He was too close; I was too close.
"You'll be fine," he whispered, his voice throaty and warm, and then he dropped his head towards me so that our noses were almost touching. "I swear."
He probably should have told me that I was being stupid, that I didn't have to do this, that I should give up and just go to McGonagall. Instead, he had said what I had needed to hear - what I had wanted to hear - that I was going to be okay, just like the Gryffindor he was.
I nodded and the tip of my nose brushed against his fleetingly, but it was enough to make my breath hitch in my throat. And then a bang rattled the glass panels around us and I jerked my head up, sure that the greenhouse was about to collapse, before I spotted Hector at the entrance, his hand flat against the door and a sheepish look on his face.
"Whoops." His eyes were wide, and maybe it was because he hadn't expected the door to burst open like this, but his gaze darted back and forth between James and me and I quickly scrambled to my feet.
"What -" I wanted to ask what he was doing here - how he even knew about this place - but before I could finish my question, Katie, Sam, and Tarquin had filed in behind him.
"We brought sustenance!" Katie announced brightly and Tarquin swung the large tote bag that was hoisted onto his shoulder in support.
"Wow, this is brilliant..." He whistled and craned his neck up to the domed glass ceiling from which softly curling vines tumbled down like festive garlands, wrapping around his fingers as he reached out to touch the one dangling in front of his face. He was so enraptured that he hardly seemed to notice when Sam pulled the bag from his shoulder and, quite unceremoniously, dumped its contents onto the closest desk.
"How did you…" I trailed off as I watched Sam unpack dozens of boxes and jars filled with snacks and bottles of pumpkin juice, which, considering the strange backdrop and the thin vines that were crawling along the table, looked a little like a grotesque picnic.
"James said to meet you here," Katie said like it should have been obvious, tugging on the familiar cotton bag she was clutching to her side. "I brought the ingredients. We can get started right away."
I turned back to James who had gotten up from the floor as well, bits of moonlace still clinging to his shoulder, and I didn't know what to say - what to feel. He shrugged as he slid his hands into the pockets of his uniform trousers and ambled over to Sam and his make-shift snack bar, taking an entire stack of cucumber sandwiches.
"So, are we doing this or what?" Katie had slung an arm around my shoulders. Behind her, Tarquin began to rifle through the bag of substitute ingredients, a concentrated look pulling on his face as he sorted the herbs and plants into different piles, arranging them on one of the desks. It looked frighteningly purposeful, like he knew exactly what he was doing, and I suddenly felt some of the heaviness fall off my shoulders.
I had tried to push everyone away, but they were here anyway and, for a shiny, glorious moment, I thought that maybe not all was lost yet.
A/N: As always, THANKS FOR READING and especially to those of you who take the time to leave me reviews. It means a lot to me to know that people are reading and still enjoying the story and it really is what keeps me writing. I'm incredibily grateful to aall of you wonderful people and I want you to know how much your feedback means to me. Especially after all this time :)
