Disclaimer: I don't own anything. If I did, the Marauders wouldn't have died; they would have lived long, fruitful lives causing mayhem and chaos, like it was meant to be. That never happened, therefore I own nothing.

Story Summary: Bridget Griffins had never really been considered normal, but this was weird even for her. Magic just can't be real, and even she knows that time travel is too dangerous, especially if you've already changed it beyond repair.

Author's Notes: Sorry (again) about the long wait, my computer is dead. Read on!

Chapter Eight

Accidental Explosions

"True friendship comes when silence between two people is comfortable." -Dave Tyson Gentry

There was entirely too much stuff. Bridget resolved to avoid going shopping with Mrs. Potter ever again; there was no way she was ever going to use all of the things she'd come back with, let alone need to buy new stuff. Ever.

But the trunk was so cool. Obviously magical with several compartments, it was probably much more expensive than she'd be comfortable spending on a trunk. There wasn't much she could do when it had already been bought; pre-packed with things from home.

She pushed some of the hair out of her face, and continued folding the clothes to put into the third compartment. She was halfway through her task when her door opened, and James froze in the doorway, staring at her with shocked, hazel eyes and an unhinged mouth. Bridget frowned at him, then she realized exactly what she had been folding and blushed bright red, quickly tossing the offending garment into the trunk.

Unfortunately, Mrs. Potter was under the impression that females Bridget's age needed very nice, rather feminine lingerie, and had ignored any of Bridget's protests that there wasn't going to be anyone other than her seeing it. Apparently, she'd been wrong, and Mrs. P had been right, in a sort of disturbing way. Well, at least she hadn't been wearing it.

James continued staring at her, and she watched as a slow flush crept up his neck. "Um, James?"

"Hm?"

Really, now, she would've thought he'd at least seen something similar by now; he wasn't exactly unpopular. She quirked an eyebrow. "Did you need something?"

"Um, yeah." He seemed a little befuddled. Her lips curved up into a smile as her own embarrassment melted away in light of his distraction. Poor thing. "I wanted to ask you something."

There was a long pause. "Go on..."

"Right. Um." James blinked rapidly, apparently trying to regain control of his thoughts. "Did Sirius mention when he expected to be back?"

"He said shortly after dawn." She frowned, giving him a concerned look. "I'd assumed that he'd gotten distracted by something. Was I wrong?"

He shook his head absently, caught up thinking about something else. He wasn't looking at her, instead staring, unseeing, at some point near the foot of her bed with his eyebrows furrowed and a dark frown on his face. Bridget hesistated, worrying her bottom lip nervously. Sirius was his best friend, and, whatever they said about it, running around with a werewolf on nights of the full moon was dangerous. James was worried, no… he was scared. In one, swift movement, before she could talk herself out of it, Bridget stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.

Red-faced, she pulled back, avoiding his eyes. "I'm sure he's fine."

Against her better judgement, she looked up to see what his reaction was, because he hadn't said a word in the thirty seconds since she'd hugged him (admittedly, it was the first conscious, voluntary time she'd touched him anywhere other than his hand or arm). She had time to notice that his hazel eyes were unusually bright, and he had an almost silly smile on his face, but, before she could say-- or do-- anything more, James reached out and pulled her back up to him, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, and sighing so heavily she could feel it through the forehead she had resting against his chest (he really didn't give her much of a choice in the matter, seeing as he was taller and rather broader in the shoulder than she was).

"I feel a little better now," he said after a second, his chin perched on her head.

Bridget let herself sink into the warmth that came with being held by him; ignoring the (attractive) scent of grass, and soap, and spice (cinnamon?) that she inhaled with every breath. She'd be loathe to admit it to anyone aloud, but it was... comfortable. It was nice to be held in strong arms... warm, and safe. She felt more relaxed than she had in a long while.

But, it wasn't fair... to either of them. She wasn't about to lead him on when all she could do was get him to fall for Lily again, and she couldn't let herself fall for him; especially because he was so obviously her type it hurt.

"You're taking advantage of my good nature, love," she finally said after a couple of unsuccessful attempts to free herself. "There's packing, and I do have some homework I need to finish."

"Anything I can help with?"

"No, I don't think so. It's my Muggle work; I just kinda have to do it. So, unless you want to learn Muggle United States history…" she trailed off, and James winced. After a moment, he spoke again.

"I think I'll try to get a hold of Sirius."

Bridget nodded. "Wise choice."

"I thought so."

"Can you let go of me?"

He sighed. "Do I have to?"

"Yes," she said, glad that he couldn't see her smile, "You do. Sorry."

"It's okay." James pulled away. He stopped in the doorway, grinning back at her, and Bridget decided that his next statement would probably make her want to kick him. "We'll just have to continue later."

It did.

Bridget rolled her eyes. "In your dreams, Potter," she muttered. She froze, realizing that she had just given the innuendo-loving boy a perfect opening. She knew better than that.

Eyes twinkling mischievously, he leaned casually against the doorframe. "At least I'll have pleasant dreams tonight."

She kicked him in the shin, and pushed him out of the room while he hopped about. She leaned against the door, grinning. The smile slid off and her head snapped back so quickly Bridget's head thumped painfully against the wood. "Ow." She pushed herself off the door, turning around and glaring at it with her arms crossed over her chest. "Crud, my books are out there."

The fireplace flamed green and Bridget watched stoically as Sirius stepped out, brushing ash off of his trousers. Her hand froze where it had been tapping out a beat she was pretty sure was from some Nickelback song or another for the past hour. It was a nervous habit, and Sirius had been M.I.A. for far, far too long; even James had gone pass worried and into frantic. It had taken all she had to keep him from dashing off to Hogwarts himself when he was supposed to be resting. Thankfully, he had an appointment with Mrs. Lupin at the moment.

Sirius looked up, gray eyes widening minutely as he took in her none-too-pleased expression. "Hey, Bridget."

"Sweetheart," she said in a calm, even voice, "when I said I'd cover for you I didn't expect it to be for this long."

"Sorry, I—"

But, he didn't get a chance to finish. Green flames erupted in the fireplace again, and Sirius lurched forward, whoever had just exited stumbling right into his back, probably because he hadn't moved since he saw her sitting there. He stumbled a few steps towards her and Bridget instinctively stood up, steadying the table when Sirius simultaneously hit it, and reached behind himself to steady whoever had Flooed into him.

The girl stepped out from behind him, pushing his hands away with a frustration that was unnervingly familiar. She was a few inches shorter than Bridget with a petite build that belied the power she seemed to radiate. She had straw-straight black hair pulled away from her face and no-nonsense brown eyes. The two girls were staring at each other with identical looks of pure shock.

Bridget took an alarmed step backwards, tripping over her own feet and the chair she'd spent the past two hours in. She hit the ground hard, and her vision swam as she took stock of the damage: the back of the chair was digging painfully into her spine (something was probably bruised), her legs were draped over the seat in a way that made her feel very lucky not to have twisted anything, and the back of her head throbbed where it had hit the ground.

She pushed herself up, forcing her double vision to focus on the girl. "Willow?"

"Bridget?" The girl rushed forward, ignoring Sirius, and helped pull Bridget onto her feet. "What are you doing here?"

"Dumbledore assigned me to them, well, assigned me to James," Bridget replied blandly, "then there was that whole Diagon Alley thing, so I needed to stay here with him. I was trying to do homework, waiting for Sirius," she sent a glare at the boy, "you know you have James worried sick and that can't be good for his injury, and you, Will, startled me so I fell. On the ground. That really hurt."

"Sorry," Willow said quickly, "but, you know what I mean, Jet. Why are you here? How did you get here?"

There was a moment of silence, where Bridget stared at Willow with wide, somber eyes. "I don't know," she finally said, sounding close to tears. "I was at The Bookstore, and I was going to leave because I was hungry and didn't want to cook anything-- I never did get that food-- but I found this book and I was going to go back in. Then I was here—well, not here, Hogwarts, but I don't know why or how and I'm missing the football games."

"You're," the girl gave her a confused look, eyebrows furrowing, "you're upset about football?"

Bridget blinked at Willow and promptly burst into tears, falling into a sobbing mess on the floor. "Yes!"

Willow knelt down next to her, rubbing her back in a comforting way. "It's—"

"Bridget?"

Willow and Sirius looked up at the door, where James was standing with the plate of sandwiches in one hand. He looked between Bridget, who was still on the ground, but only sniffling despondently by this point, and Will, and then rushed forward, dropping the plate on the table and pulling Bridget up into a tight hug; he seemed much more physically comfortable with her than before she'd hugged him. Great. He glared at Willow over Bridget's head, while the girl deteriorated into tears again.

"What did you do?" he asked, accusingly, tightening his grip on her as she continued soaking his shirt. Bridget could feel the words vibrating in his chest.

"Me?" responded Willow. "I didn't do anything. Why would it be my fault?"

"You scare people, Will. You're not," he paused, "nice," he finished weakly.

"I am nice," she protested.

"No you're not," Bridget said in a muffled voice.

"See!"

"Not like that, James." She took a step back, although he still had his arms wrapped around her shoulders, so she didn't get very far. "Will was perfectly kind to me; she just scared some of my classmates." Bridget frowned, blissfully ignorant to the tired glare Willow was currently gracing her with. "I mean, well, that didn't come out right. All that happened was one of the stupid girls in Regulars tried to pull some idiotic, half-baked, frankly lame prank on her first thing in the morning, and I had to talk the Dean of Discipline out of giving Will a month's worth of detention before first bell at freaking 7 in the morning. And it's pretty damn difficult to get any after-school detention, let alone an entire month's worth, plus Saturday detention, so I had my work cut out for me."

"It was a stupid prank."

Bridget turned, gently breaking out of his arms and raising her eyebrows. "That doesn't mean that you put the chick in a choke-hold, Will. It's a bit more understandable now that I know you spend time with these two, though. Cassie's not very devious, so I was confused." She shrugged. "It did keep most of them from bothering me when you were around; I hadn't had that much peace and quiet since I first got elected."

"Glad to be of service."

"Wait," Sirius said, finally recovering from whatever shocked state he had gotten himself into. "You two know each other?"

"Yes," they said in unison.

The room was dark, and different in some way, but she recognized it.

"I'm sorry, Prongs." Sirius's voice was hoarse, and quiet, and so full of pain, but it was nothing compared to James. He was too thin, and his shoulders were hunched with some unspoken tension as he sat at the desk. When he looked up at his friend, his eyes, normally so expressive, were blank, and the light threw his face into a harsh relief that made it seem like he had aged ten years in a night.

"It's not your fault," he said in a voice that was scary by its calm. Almost everything she'd heard him say had had some undercurrent of enjoyment in it, like he was finding what you said unaccountably amusing and couldn't be bothered to explain it. In fact, the only time he had sounded this serious had been with Lestra-- oh, God. Bridget's heart fell to her stomach, and her vision began to spin. It was the funeral.

"James?" Lily swept in, looking every bit the upper class witch in her dark green robes. "James, sweetheart, they're starting to arrive."

Sirius patted James on the shoulder. "Don't rush, mate, I'll take care of it; Cassie will help." Before his friend could respond, Sirius had left, shutting the door behind him with a loud click, which is precisely when Bridget realized that James had begun to cry. He wasn't making so much as the smallest noise, but his shoulders were shaking, and he had his head in his hands. His entire frame screamed the pain he was feeling in the way James never could do for himself.

At the same moment, Bridget and Lily moved towards James, but it was only Lily who could do something for him. She smoothed his hair down, making soft, comforting sounds, and didn't even blink when the man (not boy, he'd grown up in the painful, quick way death had) pulled her into his lap, gripping her so tightly it must've hurt. She let him mourn for his parents in peace, and provided him with the comfort he so desperately needed, the comfort Bridget wished she could give him, but knew she couldn't.

James needed Lily.

"Bridget? Bridget!"

Someone was shaking her, and it took her a moment to wake up. "James?"

"It's okay," he murmured, pushing some of the hair out of her face. "It was just a nightmare."

James was sitting next to her, on her bed, and his eyes were full of concern. He was still James, the boy she had started to get to know, not the broken man she had just seen. Even if it was inevitable that he'd grow up so harshly, she would do anything to postpone that transformation.

"I'm sorry, James," she said, her voice so soft she was a little surprised when he responded.

"Why? You haven't done anything wrong." He grinned. "I should probably apologize for being a git."

"You're not that bad. Under normal circumstances I'd probably find you extremely amusing, if not charming."

He snorted. "Lily would disagree."

"Well, Lily's wrong." Bridget drew her legs up, wrapping her arms around them and resting her chin there. She examined James over her blanket-covered knees. "How'd your appointment with Mrs. Lupin go?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair before leaning back on the bed, stretching out directly in front of her. "She suggested that I don't go back until next week."

"An entire week?" she repeated, noticing for the first time that he wasn't wearing a shirt, but still had bandages wrapped around his torso. "What did you do to yourself?"

"I might've gone," he paused gesturing vaguely in the air with one hand, eyes closed, "flying."

Her mouth dropped open. "James!"

"What?" He opened his eyes and regarded her shock with amusement.

"You know better than that!"

"I have a game next week Saturday. I need the practice."

"Don't josh around; you need no such thing."

"I probably don't, but I do need sleep." James yawned, stretching across the dark green comforter. "Otherwise I'm going to fall asleep here, and my mum would not be happy."

"Good night. Thanks for... waking me."

"No problem." He smiled at her. "Good night."

It had happened again. Bridget sighed, at least this time she knew where she was. Ignoring the temptation to settle back down and go to sleep, she tried to get herself out of his arms. It didn't really work. This was becoming much too common; it could not be helping her mission. James shifted in his sleep, groaned, and turned over, leaving one arm fastened around her waist. She tried to get up again.

"Go to sleep," he muttered, and she started, blushing a deep red. "You kept me up half the night."

"That... sounds very wrong." She fiddled with the blanket, wishing she was able to sit up properly. "Um... what happened?"

James yawned, shifting again so he was facing her. It was very disarming to see him this close without his glasses on. "You had another nightmare. Wouldn't let me leave, so I just slept here."

"I am so sorry."

"You don't remember it?" He finally sat up, searching for his glasses with one hand. "You were really upset. I mean--"

"That's enough, thanks," Bridget interrupted quickly. "I remember a little; very vague. I'm not usually that... um..." her blush deepened, "that clingy. Sorry. I have some trouble sleeping. Weird dreams and stuff, and I can't usually remember what happens," until she'd arrived here. "It's very frustrating, especially when you're already exhausted."

There was a long silence during which she fervently wished she hadn't said a word. "How long has it been?" he finally asked.

"Since I've had anything resembling a good night's sleep?" She felt her blush deepening. "Last night, probably."

"And before then?"

"The, um," her face was burning, "night before that. Before that it was probably a couple of weeks. Maybe more. But I've always had some problem keeping a regular sleep schedule."

"Pillows."

Bridget blinked. "What?"

"You won't hit me with pillows again, right?"

She smiled, relaxing instantly; he actually looked worried. "No. I think you're safe for now."

"I just wanted to make sure."

"I'm pretty sure I would've hit you by now if I was going to. I'm going to... go now." Bridget slid out of bed, pushing the sleeve back on her shoulder as she grabbed some clothes out of her trunk. "Um, James? Your mum, she won't really be upset you were with me, will she?"

He chucked. "Not a bit. She loves you, says that your the first original girl she's met in a while except for... Lily." He faltered a bit, grin quickly falling off his face, but he recovered just as quickly. "I think she'd be willing to kick me out if she could keep you, but I'd just take you with me," she blushed again, and his grin came back in full force, "so she's stuck with both of us."

"She was upset the first time."

"Yeah, but now she thinks you can, and I quote 'handle' me. She's probably downstairs telling the Elves how to make breakfast while contemplating how long it'll be until she can plan a wedding."

He was right. Well, about the elves; she wasn't positive about the planning.

Bridget spent the rest of the week trying to convince James not to blow up the house. It wasn't that he was upset or anything, he had just found her chemistry set and promptly found two of the most dangerous chemicals in the box and tried to mix them. Several times. Accidental explosions seemed to be a special skill of his.

The rest of the time she was desperately trying to catch up before she had to return to Hogwarts. The attack had been a bit of a blessing in disguise; there was no way she could've gotten through the textbooks she'd read if she had been taking classes at the same time. It was going to be hard enough when she got back even with all the work she'd finished.

She leaned back in the seat, stretching out the kinks in her shoulders, and looked over at James. He was doing some of his own homework, book and parchment perched rather precariously on his lap with his sock-clad feet on the table and quill in his mouth. Bridget wasn't sure whether she was surprised or not, but he had been extremely helpful with her catch-up and he hadn't done anything to counter-act the positive.

"James?" He looked up, and she tried not to blush. "Thank you."

"For what?" he asked. A second later, James sighed and ran a hand through his hair; he seemed embarrassed. "Did my mum tell you--?"

"No, not," Bridget frowned, "...whatever it is you're talking about. You're mother hasn't told me anything. Well, nothing I would thank you for. Just thanks for helping me with school and stuff."

He shrugged, grinning sheepishly. "I'm Head Boy; it's what I'm supposed to do."

"You didn't have to and we both know it."

"Um... you're welcome, then." He suddenly perked up and let the chairs of his legs drop to the ground with a loud thump. "Hey, do you want to learn how to fly?"

Bridget regarded him with wide eyes, her hand hovering frozen over the book. "What?"

"Fly. On brooms." He stood up, tossing his book on the table. "Come on, you'll love it."

Author's Notes: I'm sorry about the long wait, but my computer is dead, and I'm trying to work off of my friends' and family's laptops, so updates will be sporadic until I can get it fixed.

Thanks to chezE122091, and Electrified for putting KM on story alert, appleeater123 for fav'ing KM, and Saffygirl for the review. Please review if you read it; I'm more likely to update if I feel guilty about letting people down.

Next time:

This… was not good. Bridget put her bag on the floor next to the desk and sat down, trying her best to not look at her desk mate. She could hear the whispers around her, and, blushing furiously, realized that the rumors of her arrival must have spread around the school, only augmented by her and James's absence for the previous week.

They sat in silence as Slughorn began his rounds, to each set of partners, and the whispered noise of classroom conversations broke out around the room. Even Sirius and James were muttering furiously to each other behind her.

It was just… Bridget didn't know what to say to her partner. It was so awkward.

"Well, Miss Griffins," Slughorn said, finally reaching her table, and beaming down at them. "I'm surprised you did so well, but I really shouldn't be, should I? With your father's talents in the Potions lab. Of course, I never had the pleasure of meeting him."

Bridget had no idea what he was talking about.

"I'm sure you'll both get along splendidly." Unlikely. "And I saved the best for last. I feel that I can trust you both with the responsibility; after all, such attractive girls shouldn't have any problem with the young men. If only I was a few years younger… " He trailed off, chuckling. There was a scraping sound from the boys' table, a soft thump, and more furious muttering. "You two shall be working on Amortentia."

Bridget glanced up from the parchment and straight into Lily's eyes. The other girl was looking back coolly, her face blank of any emotion. She seemed even unhappier about the arrangement than Bridget was. This was not going to be easy.