Disclaimer: The characters are the property of the amazingly talented J.K Rowling. I'm only borrowing the characters and world that she has so brilliantly created.
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Chapter Seven: Problems with the Press and a Shock
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"Are you mad?!" I exploded. "You said to Sorcha Patterson – Sorcha Patterson of all the people in the bleeding country – that it's possible we'll be engaged in five years?"
Holy hippogriffs, terrible didn't even begin to describe what a disaster this was.
"I know, I know," James ran his hand through his hair, which only served to make it even untidier than it had been before. "I'm sorry."
"Sorcha Patterson," I all but groaned, letting my face drop into my hands. "You do realize I'll never be able to avoid questions about you now?"
"I'll try not to be offended by that," James replied drily.
"You know that's not what I meant," I rubbed my temples in exasperation.
He gave a slight one-shouldered shrug. "Just trying to lighten the mood."
There was an awkward pause as we each looked at the other. James had acknowledged that in five years it was possible we would be engaged. He'd said it to Sorcha Patterson. How could he have said something like…like that to her?
"I don't want every interview to be all about my relationship with you," I burst out. "I want to be asked about Quidditch teams and strategy and things like that, not about if or when we get engaged or how I feel about you."
"I know that," James said. "I understand, I do."
"Do you?" I challenged him, throwing my hands up in the air. "I know you had the nosy, personal questions this time, but what about the next time, and the time after that? Women are asked about their relationships much more than men, James, that double standard exists. I'm going to be asked about clothes and makeup and marriage and children not to mention being asked about Tristan and my Dad."
"I understand a bit," James countered. He sounded somewhat peeved now. "Being the firstborn son of Harry Potter comes with a lot of pressure and a hell of a lot of nosy questions."
Well, he had me there. Even if he wanted to, James was never going to be able to avoid questions about his famous dad and his other well-known relatives.
"I'm really sorry, Eva," James said again, reaching out and taking one of my hands in his. "I wasn't thinking when I said it. It wasn't like it probably looks on paper – Sorcha was waffling on about what a brilliant couple we were and I forgot that she's not your completely mad dorm mate anymore. The question caught me off guard and I just threw out an answer and didn't think about it properly until afterwards."
I nodded in understanding. After all, I had had a similar problem during my own interview with Sorcha. I wanted to be cross with James, but I had been sharp with Sorcha, forgetting that she was interviewing me in a professional capacity rather than subjecting me to an intense questioning in the dormitory.
Using our connect hands, I gently pulled James towards me and wrapped my arms around him in a hug.
"You know," James said slowly, "I actually thought you'd be more upset about this. I mean, I know it was a hypothetical about the future and I didn't exactly mean to say it but…I still thought that it would scare you."
"W-well," I stammered taken slightly aback, "I'm not exactly thrilled about that. I mean, five years is a long time. Let's just…I mean, we're eighteen. I'm not at all ready to think about being engaged. I'm not sure I can think of anything I'm less ready to talk about."
Part of me was glad that I couldn't see James's face at this moment, but part of me wanted to know…was it something he'd thought about? It must have, mustn't it, for him to have said something like that, even if it had been a spur of the moment answer.
"Neither am I," James replied, his voice low. "I was just acknowledging that it's a possibility. Not a certainty. We're young and we have lots of time to think about that part of our future later."
I nodded against the front of his shirt. (It was his gloriously soft Holyhead Harpies shirt, which made resting my cheek against his shoulder extra comfortable.)
There was a long pause, then James asked, "You're certain you're not cross?"
I pulled back and looked up into his face. He appeared anxious and unsure of my response.
"I know that I'm usually…" I stopped and took a moment to gather my thoughts. "I know I wasn't ready to hear it when you told me you were falling in love with me, but I don't like feeling as though you think I'm afraid of the future or that I'm less committed to this relationship. I do think about our future, James. How could I be falling in love with you and not think about it?"
It wasn't as though I was picking out china patterns or anything, but I was keeping our relationship in mind as I thought about the future. After all, if I didn't think James and I had a future together, I would hardly have made such a fuss about the thought of him moving to Poland.
"Eva," James gently took my face in his hands and looked directly into my eyes. "Eva, I don't think you're afraid of a future together. And I definitely don't think you're less committed to our relationship. You agreed to go out with me the first time we kissed. And remember when we had that massive row after the Hufflepuff match? And when I thought you'd ditched me? And when you got it into your head I was going to move to Poland?" He laughed quietly. "I'm not worried about your commitment to our relationship, Eva."
I hadn't ever thought it about that way before. But he was right, I realized. James had always been so certain of us that maybe I had only thought that I seemed less committed by comparison. And while it was probably accurate that at the beginning of our relationship James had felt more strongly than I had for him, that was no longer true.
"Thank you," I told him sincerely. "I needed to hear that."
His mouth quirked into that slight smirk I adored. "The next time a reporter asks about us, I'll do a better job answering. I promise."
We both needed to do that.
"Well, realistically, Sorcha was always going to ask me about you in every bleeding interview. But maybe we should think about how to answer those kinds of questions."
"No comment," he smirked.
"Something like that, yes," I grinned back.
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"Eva, would you mind coming in here a moment?"
I had a sinking feeling that I knew exactly what my dad wanted to see me about. When I entered his study and saw my mom perched on the edge of my dad's desk, I knew without a doubt I'd been correct.
"This is about my interview with Sorcha Patterson, isn't it?" I groaned as I sank into the chair in front of dad's desk. I wasn't sure I wanted to talk to my parents about what James had said in the interview. James and I had talked about it, and as far as I was concerned, we'd said everything that needed to be said.
"We're just a bit concerned," Mum said, glancing briefly at Dad for reassurance as she spoke. "You're an adult and can make your own decisions, but it seems as though perhaps you and James are moving a little quickly in your relationship. You haven't even been dating a full year."
"I know that, and so does James," I protested. "He just said it was a possibility, not that it was going to happen for sure. And he didn't even really mean to say that to Sorcha. We talked about it this morning before our run and he apologized."
Mum and Dad both look visibly relieved.
Feeling the need to further defend James, I said, "If you must know, he brought me the article so I wouldn't be surprised if someone else showed it to me or said something about it. He's not used to thinking of Sorcha as reporter, and neither am I."
"You'd do well to remember it in future," Dad said gently. "I've already had three owls from reporters asking if an engagement was imminent."
"What?!" I all but shouted, sitting sharply forward in my chair and practically slamming my hands down on the top of the desk.
"I've received a few as well," Mum added reluctantly.
I sat back in disbelief. The article had barely been published five hours and already the vultures were circling. Oh, holy hippogriffs.
"Well…well you can, you can just tell them," I stammered in my indignation. "that it's not!"
I crossed my arms as through that settled the matter.
"Your father and I have a policy of not commenting on family matters," Mum explained. "The tabloids can demand answers all they like, but we're hardly obligated to provide them."
Well, that made sense. But something was niggling at the back of my mind.
"Why didn't you tell me about all this before?" I asked, feeling rather put out. "I mean, you let me go through my first official interview as a professional Quidditch player and you didn't give me any advice."
"You didn't ask," Mum reminded me gently.
Er…she might have had a slight point there, I suddenly realized.
"Well, yeah," I protested, "but I didn't even think to ask! I didn't know…I didn't know how much I didn't know until I found out."
Well done, Eva, another highly articulate sentence.
I mean, I supposed I could have asked for advice and maybe I should have thought of it, but I hadn't expected the interview. It had been sprung on me without warning. If I'd known about it beforehand, maybe I would have thought to ask Mum and Dad. Or even Mrs. Potter.
Dad smiled, one side of his mouth lifting a bit higher than the other. "You asked for help after the interview and we gave it to you. You learned that you needed advice, and that's more than half the battle."
"How about this?" Mum suggested, "Why don't we go over all of our family press policies and then practice some interview questions and answers?"
"That sounds brilliant," I breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks."
"So, Miss Wood," Mum asked, putting on a completely fake, serious reporter voice. "Tell us, have you and Mr. Potter set a date for the wedding?"
"Mum!"
"Someone might ask," Mum defended herself, but then she and dad both burst out laughing.
So much for parents being the supposedly mature ones. Merlin.
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Platform 9 ¾ was crowded with students and their parents. It was strange, seeing it from the perspective of someone who wouldn't be boarding the Hogwarts Express. Normally, I would be rushing to put my trunk away and find a compartment with my friends. Now, I was here to see Richard and Gareth off for their sixth year.
"Captain Eva!" a familiar voice behind me cried happily.
"Nico," I turned, a smile coming to my face. It was touching that he still thought of me as his captain. "That title belongs to Zara now, you know."
"Yeah, I know," he agreed, "but you'll always be our captain too. Even though she's our captain. I agree with your choice, by the way. I think Zara'll be brilliant and continue our tradition of Gryffindor domination. And guess what?"
"What?' I asked, knowing full well that I never would. Sad, but true. Might as well be honest about it.
"I grew an entire inch over the summer!" he exclaimed, clearly thrilled by this news. "Not such a little chap now, eh?"
Nico looked so proud and pleased by this news that I almost laughed, but kept it in check. He was still at least five inches shorter than me.
"That's great," I told him honestly. "You'll have to adjust for that with your swings, so be sure to get in some extra practice on the pitch."
"See? Nico grinned widely. "Still our captain."
"Ha, I'm in charge now, Little Chap," Zara appeared, clapping Nico on the back.
"And you'll be brilliant," I told her. "Just don't let Rinaldi get under your skin."
Speaking of Rinaldi, there she was standing with her parents. I couldn't help but notice that unlike all of the other parents and children nearby, their parting was rather cold and perfunctory.
"Where's Br-" I began, then stopped short, remembering a moment too late that Nico and Bree had broken up under less than pleasant circumstances. Probably better not to ask after her.
"Already on the train," Zara explained with a flicker of a glance in Nico's direction. "I'll say hi for you."
"Thanks."
"We just need Richard and the Potters and we'd almost have a Gryffindor team reunion here on the platform," Nico joked. "Speaking of James, I still can't believe he's playing Puddlemere when he had the chance to play for the Cannons!"
"I have some respect for myself Little Chap," James drawled as he came up beside me and slid an arm around my waist.
"The Cannons will have their day," Nico protested. "You could have helped them on their way to greatness. You're a sellout, James Potter."
James just laughed. "I've missed you too, Little Chap."
"I've grown a whole inch!" Nico protested.
"He tells me it's true," I said to James with a shrug. Now that Zara was standing next to him for comparison, he did look a bit taller.
"You mean…you can't tell?" Poor Nico sounded so positively defeated I almost wanted to give him a hug to cheer him up.
"When has Eva ever noticed anything important?" James teased. "I could tell. You definitely look taller. You'll have to adjust your swings to your new height."
"Really?" Nico beamed happily while I spluttered indignantly.
The train whistle blew and I checked the clock overhead. Ten minutes until the train departed.
"I'd better say goodbye to Richard and Gareth," I told James. "Are you still helping me and Christine move into our new flat on Saturday?"
He nodded. "Fred and Christopher said they'd help too if you needed it."
Before I could answer, Rose and Olivia walked up to our group.
"Hi Rose, hi Olivia" I waved at the pair. "Congratulations!" I pointed to the shiny gold Head Girl badge pinned to the front of Rose's robes.
"Thanks, Eva," she smiled widely. "And guess what? Scorpius is Head Boy!
"Do you think McGonagall knows you're dating?" I wondered out loud.
"After what happened last year at that Quidditch match, do you think they're people at Hogwarts who don't know?" James retorted with a laugh.
Rose turned a startling shade of red as everyone laughed.
I glanced up at the clock again. "Okay, I really have to say goodbye to Richard and Gareth. Best of luck, everyone. Beat Slytherin!" I called as I walked away.
"We'll do our best, Captain!" Nico and Zara called out at the same time.
"Hi Eva, bye Eva!" Louis greeted me as he strode by on his way to the train. "See you at Christmas, maybe."
Well, I was just seeing everyone today. Though it made sense, considering where I was.
"There you are," Mum sounded relieved when I finally found everyone.
"Sorry, got caught up with people from Quidditch," I replied "Where were you?" I asked Richard. "I was just talking to Nico and Zara. And James."
Richard's cheeks colored slightly as he said, "Talking to the Potters."
"Oooh," I said, purposefully drawing out the word. "I see."
"Unlikely," Gareth snorted.
"Be nice to your sister," Dad gave Gareth a look. "You'll miss not having her at Hogwarts."
"Write me," I told Richard and Gareth as I gave them each a hug in turn. "Tell me everything that's happening. Especially about Quidditch."
My heart clenched a bit as I watched my brothers board the Hogwarts Express without me. I wouldn't miss schoolwork in the evenings, but I would miss everything else about Hogwarts. Except for Rinaldi. And maybe the way Madam Pomfrey made such a fuss over Quidditch injuries.
But other than that.
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"We have a flat," Christine observed in something of a dazed voice. "We live here."
It had taken the better part of an afternoon, but between us, our parents, James, and Kiernan, Christine and I were all moved into 16B Cae'r Deon in Bangor, Wales.
"I can't believe how many books you have," I said, remembering the seemingly endless number of boxes filled with Christine's books. "Good job we have magic or we'd have never got that lot up the stairs."
Christine gave me a slightly abashed grin. "I don't think I realized how many I had either, until I was boxing them up."
"We're definitely going to need some more furniture," I said as I looked around at our sparsely furnished flat. We had a small sofa and coffee table that had once belonged to Christine's parents, a couple of lamps, and a slightly battered but cute chair we'd found in a second-hand shop. We hadn't found a kitchen table yet, so it looked as though we'd be sitting on the sofa to eat. Or the floor.
"And maybe a few wall decorations," Christine added. "But at least we have some photos."
Just as I'd planned, the photo Christine had taken of my seventh year Gryffindor team was resting on the fireplace mantel, along with a few pictures of friends and our respective families.
My bedroom had more decoration since I'd brought my photos from home as well as a Gryffindor pennant and my Puddlemere United poster. I had hesitated to hang up that poster, worried that the sight of it would be upsetting. In the end, I'd decided that it could serve as reminder of what I was working toward.
"What do we do now?" I asked, looking around. We'd unpacked our belongings, there wasn't cleaning to be done…I was suddenly reminded of my need for a hobby or two.
"Probably explore the neighborhood a bit and find a supermarket."
Trust Christine to point out the logical answer. Finding food was probably an excellent, adult thing to do. After all, we had to feed ourselves now. Good job both of us knew how to cook.
An hour later we had food in the cabinets and were settled down to our first meal in our new flat. Seeing as we didn't have a table, we had spread a blanket on floor and made a sort of picnic.
"This is fun," Christine commented, taking a bit of her ham and pickle sandwich.
"I think the novelty will wear off eventually," I mused.
"The novelty of not having a table to eat at or of being adults?"
I thought about that for a moment. "Both," I decided.
Christine smiled. "I made up a chore list and spellotaped it to the refrigerator."
"Oh look, the novelty's wearing off already."
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"Oi!" I cried out as I barely managed to catch the Quaffle before it smashed into my nose. "I'm rather attached to my nose the way it is, thanks."
"Sorry!" Ellie called back from her position on her broom a good distance away from me.
"Controlled throws, Cooper," Trainer Smith reminded Ellie. "And that goes for you as well," she added to Branwen and me. "No complacency on my watch, ladies."
So far, we'd been practicing various kinds of passes on the ground, learning each other's throwing styles and how to function together as a unit. But today was our first day practicing passing on our brooms. Things were going well considering
Ellie had a tendency to be a bit hesitant at first but then make up for it in overly powerful passes, something I didn't exactly appreciate but understood. It was all too easy to have to make a decision to pass in an instant and to accidentally put too much power
"And Wood, I noticed you're not tucking your elbows in properly," Trainer Smith commented. "You know that's the easiest way for an opponent to take back possession of the Quaffle. Don't give them an easy opening."
I nodded, kicking myself for allowing my old weakness to come through. There was so much to remember and pay attention to on this day in particular that I had apparently been less attentive to all aspects of my form that I should have done.
Wait until I told James, he'd be sure to offer me a cheeky smirk. Which I had to admit, wouldn't be the worst thing ever. I wondered how James's own training was getting on over at Puddlemere. Then I mentally kicked myself for thinking of Puddlemere when I was fortunate enough to training on the Holyhead pitch.
Trainer Smith motioned Branwen over with a wave of her hand. "You're lead Chaser now, Milligan. Don't forget that."
"Right," Branwen said with a small smile. "Right."
"I know it's new to you," Trainer Smith told her, "But you need to step up and take the lead. When you're in the middle of formations don't be afraid to call out directions for the next play."
Branwen nodded and flew back into position.
"Let's run that forward pass formation again," Trainer Smith instructed. "When you get it right, then you can go home."
"High time," Ellie muttered to herself.
"What?"
"Fine, fine," she hastily corrected herself. But out of the corner of my eye I was Ellie trying not to laugh as she got in formation.
"Okay," Branwen said once we were all in position. "Go!"
Branwen threw the Quaffle right to me in an easy overhand lob. I carefully tucked it under my arm before speeding slightly ahead of her. On the far left, Ellie did the same and I prepared to throw the Quaffle across to her.
"Easy now," Branwen called, referring to our flying speed.
I took careful aim ad sent the Quaffle hurtling towards Ellie. Thankfully, she caught it without trouble. We repeated this pattern until we had all been the center Chaser and finally Trainer Smith called us down to the ground.
"Better," Trainer Smith nodded. I'd quickly learned that words like 'better' were high praise indeed from her. "We'll start with this tomorrow and then begin work on reverse passes."
Right now, all I could think of was how much I wanted to stretch my tired muscles. I didn't even want to think about reverse passes tomorrow.
Ugh.
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"This song is ridiculous, but I can't help but love it," Christine said with a slight giggle as she stood on the coffee table.
"It's cheesy, but I can't help but think of James," I admitted, bouncing slightly on the sofa cushions.
"And when I'm with you it's like we're flying, flying high up in the sky. Girl, we're soaring, the air is rushing by," sang the male voice issuing from the radio resting on the fireplace mantle.
Christine grinned and joined in the song. "Your arms wrapped tight around me, I feel your heart beat fast, do you feel mine? It's pounding in my chest."
Well, now I had to join in. "Never thought I'd feel this way, except for on my broom. You've changed everything, everything, because now I'm swooping, soaring, reeling, positively flyyyyiiing."
"And I'll fly with you into the sunset, just you and me, girl! " Christine and I sang at the tops of our voices as we danced around our sitting room. "Let's go higher than we've ever been, let's chase the stars tonight!"
"Never pegged you girls for Wands Alike fans."
"Argh!" I yelled in surprise at the exact same moment as Christine.
Christine clutched her chest in shock and nearly fell off the coffee table. I teetered on the cushions and half spun on my heel to find Fred Weasley's head sitting in the fireplace. I'd never seen him grinning so widely.
Oh, hell.
"Don't take this the wrong way," Fred continued rather jovially, "but if I were you, I wouldn't give up my day job just yet."
"Wasn't planning on it," Christine replied, still breathing deeply. She appeared incredibly embarrassed that Fred had caught us dancing around our sitting room and singing at the top of our lungs. She cleared her throat and settled down into the nearest chair, primly adjusting her robes.
"I don't suppose there's any way I can convince you not to tell James what you just witnessed?" I asked, trying to fight down a blush at the thought of Fred catching me singing along to a band like Wands Alike. Ugh, how mortifying.
Fred just kept grinning. "Not a chance, Eva Louise."
"I assume you have a reason for dropping into our fireplace unannounced?"
"That I do. You see…James and I have burned every attempt at dinner so far this week and we're getting a bit tired of baked beans on toast. James is too proud to ask – keeps saying he won't ruin the next thing he tries to make but he hasn't succeeded yet. So I was wondering if Christine wouldn't mind helping us out a bit?"
Well, if that wasn't an unfair assumption if ever I'd heard one.
I regarded Fred with a disapproving look. "What makes you think Christine can cook and I can't?"
"W-well…" Fred stammered a bit, looking a bit taken aback. "I mean, you…you play Quidditch."
I raised an eyebrow. "So? I'll have you know that I'm a woman of hidden talents."
"Eva Louise – you can cook?" Fred seemed astounded, which made me feel vaguely insulted. I played Quidditch so I must not be able to do something like cooking?
"What does my playing Quidditch have to do with my being able to cook? Are you saying I can't do both?"
Fred was looking more uncomfortable by the minute. "I just meant that all you do is play Quidditch. You've never seemed to really have any other hobbies."
"'Course I do. My mum taught me to cook. I listen to music. Sometimes I even dance and sing along to it. Sometimes I even read news articles and books that aren't about Quidditch."
Behind me, Christine stifled laughter.
"I said sometimes!" I said, glancing at her over my shoulder.
"I'm impressed," Fred inclined his head to me. "So, mind helping us poor, starving lads out?"
"What are you trying to make?" Christine inquired, standing up and moving closer to the fireplace.
Fred mumbled something inaudible.
"Come again?" I asked, leaning closer to hear better.
"I said…spaghetti," Fred admitted somewhat sheepishly.
I could understand why he seemed slightly embarrassed. I mean…spaghetti? Really? Trying not to laugh out loud at Fred's request took all of my will power.
"All right, then, let me grab some Floo Powder."
Fred grinned thankfully, a look of pure relief washing over his face. "Brilliant. See you in a moment."
The first thing I noticed as we stepped out of James and Fred's fireplace was the overpowering smell of charred food. I waved a hand in front of my face in a fruitless attempt to clear the offending, acrid smell.
"You do know there's spells for air purification, yeah?" I choked out, partly on the air, and partly on the ash in my mouth.
Christine took her wand out of the pocket of her robes and, muttering a few brief words, gently waved her wand in a slow arc. Immediately, the air cleared and I felt as though I could breathe properly again.
"Fred, you bloody traitor!"
I turned to see James standing in the small galley kitchen wearing an apron stained with spaghetti sauce and wielding a wooden cooking spoon. I couldn't help myself as I burst out laughing.
"I can't you believe you brought my girlfriend into this," James told Fred petulantly. "I was doing fine. I almost had it this time."
"The burnt food would suggest otherwise," Fred replied dryly.
"All right," Christine said, as we both walked into the kitchen area. "Let's see what the problem is."
"How do you burn spaghetti?" I asked curiously. I didn't want to make James feel too badly about his attempts at cooking, but honestly. Spaghetti?
James wouldn't meet my eyes as he shrugged.
"What is this?" Christine asked, using a spoon to scoop up a mass of charred pieces of something that seemed to be most of the cause for the burning smell when we arrived.
"It was a sweet pepper."
"Let's forget about everything but the actual spaghetti for the moment," I suggested, eyeing the sauce splattered countertop and box of opened pasta laying on its side.
Christine nodded firmly in agreement. "Are you having any problems with cooking the pasta?"
"No," James defended himself.
In the sitting room, Fred started laughing again. He sounded like a loon.
"All right, fine," James called. "Yes. It either turns out still crunchy or all mushy."
"Common problem," Christine assessed. "Part of getting it right is to make sure that the water is boiling before you put the pasta into the pot. Then it won't be in there for longer than need be. Then set a timer for seven to eight minutes, depending on the level of tenderness you want. Don't leave it in any longer than eight minutes or it'll be mushy. Keeping an eye on it is important."
"How do you keep it from boiling over?"
"Here's an easy trick," I suggested. "Once you have the water boiling, put the spaghetti in the pot and stir it a few times until the water starts boiling again. Then set the timer for seven minutes, put the lid on, and put out the burner. Then just let it sit until the timer goes off, and it will be perfectly done."
"And don't rinse the pasta after you drain it," Christine added. "You'll just make it cold."
James looked at the remains of the pepper. "What about adding in stuff to the sauce? Like the sweet pepper."
Christine and I shared a look.
"I think you should master cooking pasta because we complicate things," I told him. "But we can always add in some oregano, basil, and garlic to the sauce. That's easy to do – and tastes good."
"I didn't know you could cook."
"Mum taught me," I explained. "I wanted to learn to make shepherd's pie, but she said I had to start small. Just like you do."
"Probably a fair point."
"So how did you manage to get spaghetti sauce all over yourself anyway?" I asked, pointing to James's formerly-white apron.
"Mishap with a heating spell," he explained with a slight grimace. "Though actually this bit here is blood. I cut myself slicing the sweet pepper."
Christine nearly gagged. "Go take off that apron and put it in the laundry. I don't want blood around the food."
James rolled his eyes. "Yes, ma'am."
"I'll go teach Fred how to set the table," Christine said, moving towards the eating area.
After I had used my wand to light a small fire underneath the saucepan, I poured a jar of plain spaghetti sauce in (thankfully, James had had the foresight to purchase more than one jar of sauce). I had just added a can of diced tomatoes when I felt James come up behind me.
"Smells good already," he murmured in my ear as he slid his arms around my waist. The gesture sent tingles down my spine.
"Unless you want another mishap with the sauce, I suggest you keep your focus on the food," I said, only half teasing. I handed him the small container of oregano that I had found in the cupboard. "I added diced tomatoes already. Here, add just a pinch of this."
"How much is a pinch?"
"It's a fluid concept," I explained, picking up the basil. I took a small amount of the spice between my index finger and thumb. "Like this. Add a bit, stir it in, then taste it. If you want more flavor, add more spice. Just remember that you can always add more, but you can't take away."
James followed my example and added a pinch of the oregano. Still standing behind me, he reached around me and stirred the sauce with the wooden spoon he had been using before.
A flash of light made me start, and I turned to see Fred standing in the kitchen entryway holding a camera.
"She made me," he accused Christine, who was standing slightly behind him.
Christine crossed her arms over her chest. "Fred Weasley, you are such a liar."
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"So, Fred," I said after the leftovers were packed away and the dishes were washed and put away, "are you still seeing that one girl?"
"That one girl?" he replied with a laugh. "She has a name, remember?"
"Yeah, but I don't remember it," I admitted sheepishly. "I'm not good with names, you know this! I only remember that she works at Fortescue's."
"It's Theia, right?" Christine asked.
Christine and her good memory. Bloody unfair is what it was.
"Yeah, Theia Wooten."
"So how many times have you two gone out, then?" I asked curiously. Considering he'd never been on a single date with the last girl he'd fancied, I wanted to know if this latest interest had amounted to anything.
"Ah, now who's the nosy parker?" Fred teased me, but then said, "Twice. I wouldn't say we're going steady, but I like her. A lot."
"They kissed after their first date," James smirked as he shared this information with me and Christie.
"You're one to talk," I muttered, rolling my eyes in James' general direction. Then I thought better of what I'd just said. Though to be fair, Christine knew about my first kiss with James, and I was almost certain that Fred did too.
James ignored this. "I'm just making sure everyone has all of the relevant information."
Christine wrinkled her nose in thought. "I'm not sure I need to know things like that about Fred. Not that you're not a lovely person," she added to him.
"I'm not a meddler," I pointed out, agreeing with Christine. "Your definition of relevant information and mine are a wee bit different."
"I quite like how when you say certain words like 'wee bit' you have just a hint of a Glaswegian accent," Fred laughed, shaking his head slightly.
"It really comes out in the word 'yeah' and 'lot' Christine offered, as though I wasn't sitting right next to her.
James nodded. "Although when she's cross, the West Country influence gets stronger. Lots of round sounds."
"That's what happens when both parents have accents that are very different," I shrugged. "We can't all have a standard RP accent like Christine. So instead of dissecting the way I talk, how about you tell us about Theia, Fred?"
Fred shrugged. "Dunno, she's funny and likes my sense of humor. She's pretty. Fun to talk to."
"Well, that's brilliant," I told Fred. I meant it too. Someone who appreciated Fred's comedic antics was what he needed.
James and Christine nodded in agreement.
"Are we going to meet her?" I asked.
"Maybe," said Fred rather evasively.
"You know," James pondered out loud, "we could just go to Fortescue's and talk to her ourselves."
Fred grinned and shook his head. "I'd tell you not to, but it's exactly the sort of thing I'd do."
"We know," Christine and I said at the exact same time.
"I could tell her all about you," James smirked. "All good things!" he added hastily as Fred reached over to try to shove him out of his seat.
"That's more like it," Fred nodded approvingly. "Besides, what else is there to say but good things?"
Christine politely said nothing and merely looked placidly at the sky. I, on the other hand, accidentally snorted as I laughed. Which, in turn, just made me laugh louder. Decorum and refinement, thy name is Eva.
"It's not that funny," Fred grumbled, crossing his arms and sitting back in his chair.
~…~…~…~…~…~…~…
"Christine said you were up here."
I turned to find James striding through the attic door. He looked around, squinting slightly in the late afternoon light.
"Odd place to work to work on Quidditch skills. What are you doing?"
"I'm trai-" I started but then stopped short. Was I supposed to share what I was doing with a member of a rival Quidditch team? We had talked (rowed was closer to the mark) about this topic when we signed with our respective teams, but we hadn't really come to any conclusions.
James's lips curved into a smirk. "You're not going to tell me?"
"I don't know," I bit my lip, wondering if him knowing what I was doing would have any impact on the team.
"I don't know that being ambidextrous will give you that much of a tactical advantage," James pointed out, smirk still firmly in place.
"I don't know what I'm supposed to share and what I'm not," I defended myself. Then my brain caught up with my mouth and I realized what James had said.
"You sneaky prat," I chucked the Quaffle I'd been holding in his direction.
James burst out laughing and easily caught the Quaffle one-handed. "You were standing in the middle of the room repeatedly throwing the Quaffle up in the air and catching it with your left hand. Surprisingly, it didn't exactly take much detective work to figure it out."
I rolled my eyes but smiled nonetheless. "After I hurt my wrist before the final match at Hogwarts I've thought it would be a good idea to be more adept with my left hand. My wrist was throbbing by the end of that match. Being able to use my left hand more would have been a massive help."
"I reckon most Quidditch players feel the same," James shrugged. "I don't think knowing that about you will help Puddlemere beat Holyhead."
"It's not as though we'll be playing against each other any time soon," I agreed. If a reserve Chaser was needed, Branwen would be the first person substituted in. As a brand new professional player, my odds of being put into a real match any time in the near future were very slim indeed.
"You never know."
"Well, you might be substituted in," I admitted. "You're the only reserve. But I have at least one person with seniority in years and skill ahead of me, plus there's Ellie. I don't know who they'd pick to go in first."
"Puddlemere is having an open practice next week," James told me.
It wasn't anything I didn't know already. Puddlemere United always held quarterly open practices for fans to attend and watch. It was a tradition dating back years and years, well before Dad was the coach, or even on the team.
I tried to smile. "I know."
"I was wondering if you wanted to come see me play."
"Uh…" was my oh-so-coherent reply.
"I know it's asking a lot," James said quickly. "I know that, but I wanted to ask anyway. It would be nice to have you there, supporting me, but I understand if you can't."
"I don't even know if I'm allowed to be there anymore," I wondered out loud. I had never, ever missed a Puddlemere open practice in my life. (For one thing, my dad would have practically considered it heresy not to attend.) I have even gone the year I had a particularly nasty cold. I coughed and wheezed the entire time, but I was there.
But everything was different now.
"I can't, James," I told him, shaking my head. "It's… I can't. Not right now, anyway. Maybe next time. Sorry."
He nodded. He'd known I would turn him down. "Next time," he agreed.
There was a brief silence, then before I could think too much about it, I leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. "Thank you."
"Of course, Eva." James tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
"Oh, I forgot to mention it the other day, but Ellie asked if you and I wanted to do something with her and her boyfriend. Like a double date."
Naturally, I didn't remember her boyfriend's name. After all, why would I? Merlin, I was a hopeless case.
"A double date," James said slowly, seeming to ponder the words. "You know, I don't know that we've ever had a proper date, just the two of us."
Wait…what? Surely we'd…Really?
"Haven't we?" I asked, stunned. "We must have."
James shook his head with a laugh. "No, we've always been with other people. Dinner with friends or our families. Hogsmeade with friends. Quidditch with friends. Spending time in the library or Gryffindor Common Room with friends."
Holy hippogriffs, he was right! James and I had never been on what one might call a proper date. I'd been on a date with Jonathan, but not the lad I was falling in love with. How utterly ridiculous.
"I can't believe we've never even been out for dinner together," I joined in his laughter.
"Well, let's change that." He grabbed my hand and started pulling me towards the stairs.
"What, now?" I asked, nearly tripping over my own feet.
"No time like the present." James grinned back at me and my heart fluttered in my chest.
~…~…~…~…~…~…~…
"Important news, everyone! Coach Pendergast announced as she strode into the locker room. She was accompanied by Kerina, Trainer Smith, Trainer Alawadi, and an unfamiliar woman.
Except the unfamiliar woman actually looked vaguely familiar. There was something recognizable about her I couldn't quite place, but despite the fact that I almost never remembered people, I felt sure I'd seen her somewhere before. She was wearing stylish black robes, her sleek black hair was pulled into a loose chignon at the back of her head, and her eyes were so dark they almost looked black.
Once the entire reserves side was gathered together, Coach Pendergast said, "As you all know, we've been searching for a new assistant coach for some time, and I'm pleased to say that we've finally found someone that we believe will be an excellent fit here at Holyhead."
Those black eyes almost looked like…my own eyes widened as it suddenly became clear to me why this woman looked familiar.
"Please welcome our new assistant coach, Elara Rinaldi."
Oh, holy hippogriffs.
~…~…~…~…~…~…~…
Thank you for all of the lovely reviews, favorites, and story alerts! I appreciate everyone who reads my story and everyone who has let me know how much they enjoy it! And a special thanks to my beta, blue and gold, for the helpful suggestions and fabulous beta abilities.
Thoughts? Comments? Questions? Favorite quotes? I'd love to hear what you thought!
Next chapter: Eva meets Elara, hears news from Hogwarts, and deals with more members of the press.