He finds her in an unused classroom on the fourth floor, knees drawn up against her chest. There's a cigarette in her hand and she's taken a deep drag just before he slips in. She turns towards the door and her eyes widen a fraction before she lets the smoke out in one, smooth, slow breath.
"Potter."
"Evans."
He's surprised, to say the least. Not only is she out after curfew, her robes are nowhere to be seen, she's loosened her tie, undone the top three buttons of her blouse and she's smoking a fag like she's done it all her life.
He hesitates before taking a seat next to her, careful to leave some space between them. He's surprised again when she doesn't protest. Now that he's closer he can see that her eyes are bloodshot, rimmed with black where her mascara has smudged. Her gaze flickers to his and she takes another drag.
"I didn't know you smoked." His voice fills the empty classroom, bouncing of the walls and he winces.
"Filthy habit." She says flippantly, tapping the butt gently, ash floating to classroom floor. "Picked it up from Dad."
He nods and they both stare at the wall across from them, silence falling over them.
She offers him the last drag, eyebrow raised. He shakes his head. "I only smoke when I'm pissed."
"Fair enough," she says with a shrug, "I only smoke when I'm sad." She finishes the fag with one long, puff and expels it with her eyes closed, tilting her head back. Her hair spills over her shoulder, blindingly red against the white of her throat.
He's fascinated by the shadows dancing across her skin, the way her throat constricts as she swallows.
The smoke curls into the air above her and dissipates.
"Are you sad often?"
She doesn't answer at first. She instead concentrates on twisting the butt of her cigarette into the stone floor, dusting her hands off on her skirt and sighing. "I suppose." She lets her head fall back against the wall. "More and more every day."
Their eyes meet and he swallows. "Did you want to talk about it?"
"No."
They fall into silence together, backs pressed against the cold stone, he playing nervously with his tie, his shirt sleeves, the bit of scrap parchment left behind from an unknown student. She is still, the only indication that she's not turned to stone the steady rise and fall of her chest.
"My sister got married on the weekend."
Her voice is quiet, strained. It startles him and he almost jumps but manages to catch himself at the last minute.
"Oh." In normal circumstances he would offer his congratulations, but the expression on her face leads him to believe it should be condolences.
"She sent me a letter to tell me. Her only sister." Her voice hitches at this and he glances at her, but her eyes are dry. She shakes her head softly. "Now that she's married, she's selling the house. She doesn't need it anymore you see."
James frowned. "But where will you stay over the holidays?"
She lets out a bitter laugh. "Not with her and her new husband, thank you very much. She was very clear about that." She takes out another cigarette and lights with a flick of her wand. He's impressed despite himself. The last time he'd tried that, he'd almost blown his face up. "At Hogwarts I suppose."
"That won't be too bad." He forces himself to be cheerful. "Sirius and I stayed here one year when my parents were away overseas. It's loads of fun, you have the Common Room to yourself and they go all out on the decorations."
She gives him a halfhearted smile and puffs away at her smoke. He feels like an idiot.
"I miss them." She says this so softly he almost doesn't hear her, but he hears the catch in her throat. "It's the first Christmas without them and I had hoped that Tuney would…I just…" She swipes angrily at the tear rolling down her check and huffs. She refuses to meet his worried stare and closes her eyes. "I don't want to be alone."
His instinct is to wrap his arms around her shoulders and pull her into him, cradle her head against his chest and tell her she's not alone. He knows that's not what she needs. She wouldn't let him anyhow.
Instead, he leans over and slides a fag out of the packet, carefully lighting it and leans back against the wall. He ignores her startled expression and mimics her earlier actions, taking a deep drag, letting the smoke slowly leak out of his mouth.
"I thought you only smoked when you were pissed." Her eyes are bright, curious, soft.
He shrugs, a gentle roll of his shoulders, and his head lolls back. He meets her gaze, lips quirking up in a half smile. "I smoke when I'm sad too."
She's confused for only a moment and then she smiles softly before turning away from him.
They finish her packet together in silence.
A/N: I know, I know I'm an awful human being who never updates. I just started studying online and it's eaten up any spare time I might have – not to mention that I have a terrible writers block when it comes to IWTHYH, but I have about a million little one shot ideas running around in my head. Here's a little something to tide you over, more will be coming rather quickly, I can't stop writing short stories! Hope you enjoy xx