Later that night after dinner, Iris stood and walked her dishes over to the sink. It was just her and Oliver and conversation consisted mostly of Oliver talking about the various plans the builders had for the new stadium. His eyes almost lit up a bit, but a certain dullness was quick to return. His voice still lacked his old cheerfulness that would set in anytime he talked about Quidditch.
"Would you mind doing the dishes tonight?" Iris asked as she looked over at Oliver.
"Sure, why?" Oliver asked.
"I've got plans to meet an old friend and I'm going to be late if I don't leave soon. He's set it for this old pub we used to hang out at and it's nearly halfway across town," she said, looking through her purse to make sure she had enough muggle money in her wallet. It was too late to go to Gringott's and she didn't want to ask James to foot the bill, though she knew he'd be able to afford it.
"An old friend?" Oliver asked, looking over her. Iris hadn't mentioned old friends. Not specific ones, anyway. "From your muggle days?" Iris nodded, still counting her money.
"Yea, we used to go to concerts together," she said, offhandedly. "He moved to America about four years ago and just moved back. I ran into him while on my way to meet Percy for lunch." Oliver looked to the ground and then back up at Iris.
"Ah, well then, I hope you have fun," he said. He had a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach, but he pushed it aside. Iris deserved to have a bit of fun. Happy that she had enough cash, Iris smiled as she closed her purse. She pulled on her jacket that had been hanging on a coat rack and grabbed her bag, pulling it onto her shoulder.
"Thanks," she said. "I shouldn't be late." She then turned and walked out of the flat, leaving Oliver to himself. He remained at the table, looking out the windows, trying to figure out how he should feel about the situation. He wanted to be jealous. But at the same time, he couldn't justify it with the way he had been acting. He stayed there until Harry walked in about 20 minutes later.
"Everything alright?" he asked, walking into the kitchen to get leftovers. Oliver looked over at him.
"Huh? Oh… I suppose," he said.
"Where's Iris?" Harry asked as he began filling a plate.
"Ehm… out. She's meeting an old friend at a pub. A muggle friend. A bloke," he said. Harry carried his plate over to the table and sat.
"Oh. That's nice. I didn't know she kept in touch with anyone still," he said before taking a bite.
"Do you know about any of her old muggle friends?" Oliver asked. Harry thought for a moment.
"She's mentioned a couple. But the one she was closest to was some guy named James," he said. "They nearly dated from what I remember." Oliver nodded. "Is that who she's meeting?" He shrugged.
"Dunno. She didn't give a name. I didn't know that she dated anyone back then," he said. Harry shrugged.
"Wasn't serious. But I'm surprised she didn't mention it to you," he said, still eating. "They were friends for a good two or three years, I think." Oliver looked at him.
"I suppose it slipped her mind," he said. He took a deep breath and stood, carrying his plates to the sink where he began washing them. His mind started wandering as he thought about Iris off meeting some other guy. An ex-boyfriend at that. He was slightly hurt that she hadn't mentioned him before, but had told Harry. But at the same time, he could only blame himself. He hadn't been the most open of late. However, it was still unsettling. Oliver realized there were still some things about Iris that he didn't know. He shook his head and kept washing, attempting to banish his uneasiness. Problems aside, they were still together, that he knew, even though they hadn't really talked since the week at his parents' house. He just hoped they would stay together.
Iris looked around the crowded pub as she walked in, smiling as she saw James seated at a table. He waved her over as soon as he saw her. He pulled her into a big bear hug as she neared him.
"You've no idea how happy I am you called," he said. Iris couldn't help but grin. His good cheer was infectious.
"Well, I figured why wait?" she said. She sat on a stool next to him, placing her purse on the table and then pulling her jacket off.
"I ordered a round of our usual. For old times sake. If that's alright," he said. Iris nodded.
"God, I haven't been here since… well, since you left, I gather," she said as a waitress walked over and placed two pints of beer in front of them. James held his up and Iris clinked her glass against it.
"That long, eh?" James asked. "So, what have you been up to since then?" Iris shrugged, buying herself a bit of time to think.
"Just odd jobs here and there. Then I tutored for a bit. But now, I'm helping a friend out with his shop," she said.
"What sort of shop?" he asked.
"Ehm, it's a joke shop," she said, deciding it would be easier to stick to the truth as much as she could. James laughed.
"Seems like more fun than that coffee shop," he said. Iris nodded.
"It is a bit more entertaining," she said with a smile. "How was America?"
"School was boring, as expected. Everything else was great. The parties were mental," he said. "Exactly like the movies." Iris' eyes widened.
"Really?" she asked.
"Yea, really. Boston was an amazing city as well. You really should get over there to see it," he said. Iris smiled, contemplating it. She had never traveled before and wondered what it would be like to get out of England.
"Maybe someday," she said. "So. Wife? Kids?" James shook his head.
"Nah, spent too much time studying, believe it or not," he said, glancing up at her. "You?" Iris shook her head.
"Not married, but I'm with someone," she said. She felt slightly guilty for going out and leaving Oliver at home. Especially since she was out with a somewhat old flame. But she shook it away. James was just a friend. Besides, she deserved a night out. "We met about two years ago. We're living together."
"Serious?" he asked. Iris took a deep breath, wondering how to answer. She decided to keep it light. She didn't care to unload all her baggage on James at once, especially since he couldn't know everything.
"Yea, for the most part," she said. "We haven't talked about marriage or anything yet, but… I can't really imagine myself with anyone else."
"That's good to hear," James said, smiling. "I have to say, I can't believe that the ever aloof Iris is now settling down. What was it you use to say? You'd marry when Hell froze over?" Iris laughed and swatted at his arm.
"Please. I was 22 and stupid," she said. "Honestly I shouldn't have been dating back then. I was a mess.
"A beautiful mess, but yea, a mess indeed. How often did I have to pull you off the floor of the pub?" he asked. Iris' eyes went wide.
"Excuse me, but as I recall, you were the one who couldn't handle his liquor," she shouted as she laughed.
"No, no. That was you. I had to half-carry you home a few times," he said.
"Please, you would be stumblin' around singing 'God Save the Queen' more often than not," Iris said. James thought a moment.
"True, yes. But I could do that whilst half-carrying you home. And you sang as well, as I recall," he said. Iris lost herself laughing for a moment, thinking back to the two of them weaving down the sidewalk to her flat, both singing loudly and off key.
"Alright, so we were both a bit of a mess. I blame it on our youth," she said finally. James laughed and studied her.
"Really, you've no idea how good it is to see you again. I thought of you a lot while I was away," he said truthfully. Iris looked down at her half empty glass and back up at him.
"Is that so? Well, we did have far too many good times together," she said joking. "But yea, I suppose I spared a thought for you as well. If anything to wonder what trouble you were getting into without me." James laughed.
"Not too much, I'm afraid. Had one fantastically drunk night at a party that somehow ended up with me half-naked with the dean's daughter… in their house. I garnered a rather nasty phone call from Dad and that put an end to any escapades I could have had," he said.
"How are your dear parents?" Iris asked. "Stepmother still flirting with you?"
"Not so much," he said. "She's now focused her efforts on my dear little sister and her schooling." Iris laughed.
"I suppose that's better," she said. "How old is she now?"
"18 and every bit the sullen teenager you'd expect," he said.
"Aren't they all," Iris said rolling her eyes. Though her thoughts turned to Harry, who very much was not a sullen teenager. Not anymore. James caught her slight change in demeanor.
"Everything alright, Iris?" he asked. She stared at him a moment and sat up. Deciding she could try a little more truth.
"Well… actually. There is something big that's happened. I, ah, I found my family," she said. James' eyes lit up. "My nephew."
"That's brilliant, Iris. How?" he asked.
"Ehm, well… Did some records searching and found the address for my other older sister. She had been raising him. And then bucked up the courage and went over there," she said.
"I take it you had a happy reunion?" he said.
"Sort of. Not so much with my oldest sister. But my nephew and I are quite close now. He's living with me and Oliver, actually," she said.
"Oliver? Your bloke?" he asked. Iris nodded. "Harry's the same age as your sister actually."
"I'm happy for you, Iris. It seems as though things have really worked out," he said, genuinely happy for her. She nodded and smiled, though it was tainted with a bit of sadness. James picked up on it immediately. "What's this, Poppy?" he said, reverting to the old nickname he gave her one drunken night. At the time he thought it was hilarious considering it was also a flower name. "I take it things are not all well… Is it the nephew or the beau?" She laughed.
"Forgot how well you read me," she said. She sighed. "Well, truth be told, there have been some… things. Oliver and I have hit a rough patch. But it's nothing we can't work though." James thought a moment and then flagged down a waitress.
"Two Three Wisemen," he said. Iris' eyebrows shot up.
"No. No. Dear god, man, are you trying to kill me?" she shouted, grinning.
"You, dear woman, look as though you have something on your mind. Something that warrants a good stiff drink," he said. "If anything it'll get you talking and perhaps we can find a solution." Iris laughed and shook her head.
"You are trying to kill me," she said. Almost too quickly the shots had arrived. Iris eyed hers suspiciously while picking it up.
"To old friends," James said, holding his up. Iris shook her head slowly and narrowed her eyes at him as she lifted hers. They then quickly downed them. Iris sputtered. It had been a long time since she had had something that strong.
"Yep. Still as harsh as I remember," she said, coughing. James laughed while flagging down the waitress again.
"Another round," he said. Iris nearly choked up the beer she was drinking as a chaser.
"Really?" she asked.
"Do you feel like talking about it?" he asked. Iris just stared at him. "What I thought. You need another." Iris shook her head. The second round came and Iris picked it up and downed it immediately, feeling her old drinking instincts coming back. This one went down a little easier.
"You do need it," James said watching her. He silently downed his. Iris took a deep breath.
"Well… it's complicated," she said, still trying to figure out the best way to explain her issues with Oliver. "He… we… both went through some traumatic things in the past year or so. We lost some very close friends recently - in an accident - and he's having difficulty dealing with it." James nodded slowly.
"He won't talk about it, will he?" he asked. Iris shook her head.
"And, I just, I feel like if he did, he would feel better. Maybe start to move on or act like his old self. But he won't and now there's this wall between us," she said, starting to feel the alcohol taking effect, loosening her tongue.
"Well, the best thing to do is to just… let him come to you," James said. "He'll talk when he's ready. And as a man, I can assure you that talking is a very difficult thing for us." Iris huffed slightly.
"That's what everyone says," she said. "And it was never this hard before… he and I would share everything."
"But it's true. You can't force him," James said. "If you are as close as you say, then he'll come around. And if there's anything I know, it's that any bloke would be a sorry git if he didn't recognize a good thing he's got with you." Iris smiled. She appreciated the advice, but she felt she had spent enough of her day talking about Oliver.
"Well… enough about me... How on earth did a man as devilishly handsome as yourself managed to stay single this long? You haven't turned into a playboy, have you?" James laughed.
"I admit I had my moments, but more so just never found the right girl," he said. Iris laughed.
"You'll find her. She's out there," Iris said. James smiled and looked down at his beer.
"I know. I'm patient," he said, looking up at her. Iris giggled and took a drink, wondering if it was the alcohol or something else, but she sensed a slight shift in the atmosphere. She banished the thought from her mind. This was James, after all.
A few hours later, Iris was good and drunk.
"I still don't understand how you got that security guard to let us backstage," James shouted, roaring with laughter. Iris was giggling incessantly.
"A lot of good it did. We were so drunk, we couldn't find the band," she said. "Who were we after anyway?"
"Think it was Oasis," he said. "My one chance to meet them and you blew it." Iris sat up, her mouth wide open.
"Me?! I'm the one who bloody got us back there in the first place! You blew your own chance," she shouted. What she couldn't tell him is that she had charmed the guard into letting them in. As for not finding the band, that was completely the result of the whisky that they had passed back and forth in a flask throughout the concert.
"It was a bit of a maze once we got back there, wasn't it," James mused. Iris laughed, glancing down at her watch.
"Oh dear, it's much later than I thought. And I'm much drunker than I thought," she said, slurring slightly. "I should get home." James downed his beer.
"Then allow me to escort you, my fair lady," he said. He flagged the waitress down and gave her money.
"No. You can't pay for all that. Let me-"
"No. I was the one who suggested we come out here. I'll pay," he said. Iris nodded and stood, feeling the world sway a bit. James quickly moved to her side and took her arm. "Come on, let's get a cab."
Shortly after, they were seated in a cab with Iris telling him the location of a muggle apartment block near Diagon Alley where she could apparate from to her building. Soon enough, they were there and Iris was turning to face him in the back seat.
"I had so much fun tonight," she said. "Thank you. I needed that."
"I did as well. Let's do it again soon," he said. Iris leaned in and hugged him. James kissed her cheek. "Get home safe." Iris smiled and nodded.
"You too," she said. She got out of the cab and waved as it drove off. She then turned and moved into the shadows of an alley. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. When she opened them, she was standing in front of the door to the flat. She placed her hand in the middle of the door, unlocking it, then pushed the door open, stumbling slightly. Giggling to herself, she shut the door behind her and walked to the bedroom, trying to be quiet so as to not wake Oliver. He was in bed, seemingly asleep. Quietly, she moved to a large armchair next to a wardrobe and dropped her purse on the floor. Awkwardly, she pulled her clothes off, tossing them onto the chair, and grabbed a large t-shirt draped across the top. It was Oliver's, but she often stole it to sleep in. Stumbling slightly, she made it to her side of the bed and crawled in. Once settled she looked over at Oliver.
"Oliver? Are you asleep?" she asked quietly, poking him in the back. He was actually awake, but didn't move, letting her think he was passed out. He hadn't been able to sleep while she was gone, finding that he needed her quiet presence next to him to settle the swirling thoughts in his head. "Your back is hard," she mused drunkenly, still poking his relatively well-toned back. Oliver opened his eyes, slightly tempted to snicker. She was still an amusing drunk, though he hadn't seen her this drunk in quite a long time.
Iris sighed and quit poking him. She leaned forward and kissed him in the middle of the back. "I love you," she whispered, before lying back down on her own pillow. Shortly after she was sound asleep. Oliver shifted a bit, flipping onto his back, and looked over at her, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. His heart ached at the sight of her. For a year, he had wondered if he would see her again and even though she had been back a few months, sometimes he still couldn't believe she was there.
He gently lifted her and slide his arm under her. Iris settled into the crook of his arm, sliding her arm across his chest. He watched her sleep for a few more minutes. He missed her. He missed how close they were, how they used to talk. He missed making love to her. But he had no one to blame but himself for how they got to where they were. Iris had been trying all these months to reach him, and he had continued to push her away. Because he was afraid. Because he didn't want her to know the dark thoughts in his mind. He sighed and looked up at the ceiling, wondering if they could ever get back to where they used to be, and what their future would hold if they didn't. There was a sharp pain in his chest as he thought about the possibility of losing her again. He couldn't let that happen, but he wasn't ready to open up to her just yet.
Then there was something else there. Jealously. She had seem happier today when she told him she was going out. Much brighter than she had been. It wasn't that he was upset that she was going out with another guy - he trusted her. It was that for the past few months he was the reason she didn't smile as often. And while he was being distant, someone else had stepped in to make her smile. He reflexively pulled her closer, rolling over slightly and wrapping his other arm around her.
"Wait for me, Iris," he whispered into her hair. "I'll get there. But wait for me." He then closed his eyes and drifted off into an uneasy sleep.