January 2020 – Fifth Year

"Brenden, stop."

I'm currently nestled into a cramped alcove in the North Tower after curfew with my boyfriend, Brenden O'Toole.

It still sounds so odd to think those words: my boyfriend.

Mum would have kittens. Dad would be furious.

He would be murderous if he knew I was alone after curfew with a boy.

There's a reason I haven't told either of them about Brenden, yet.

Actually, I haven't told anyone about Brenden. Sure, Rose has probably picked up on it and I think Fred knows something is going on, the insightful bastard that he is, but I've done my best to keep this relationship under wraps. I don't really want to deal with James and the others knowing about it.

Since the Peter Smith incident, I was actually asked several times to the next Hogsmeade weekend by random guys from all four houses. Guys I'm pretty sure I had never even seen before. I turned them all down. I didn't want a repeat of the Smith debacle.

Then Brenden showed up.

He didn't ask me out when he started talking to me, he just… talked. We got to know each other while studying in the library. The library is pretty much the only place I could talk to someone and not be subject to my mates' scrutiny. I'm not sure if Brenden knows why I want to keep our relationship a secret, but he doesn't seem to mind.

I've done my best the past couple of months to avoid any interaction between Brenden and the guys. I really didn't want to hear them go on about another guy I've met. There's only been a couple of times that James has seen me with Brenden and I would like to keep it that way. After his seriously unhelpful assessment of my date with Smith, I feel he has no reason to talk about any boy I may or may not date.

Brenden presses his lips against mine in his now familiar way. He's the first guy I've ever seriously snogged. Dad's reaction would probably get himself sent him to Azkaban if he found out about this.

I feel Brenden's hand slide down my back again, inching dangerously close to my bum. I pull away, pushing his arm away once more and stare at him unamused. "Seriously, Brenden? No."

Brenden laughs lightly, leaning his head back against the wall behind him. "Okay, okay, Meredith."

"Why couldn't you listen to me the first time?" I ask, putting as much space between the two of us as the small alcove will allow. "Or the second? Or the third? Or the-"

"I get it, Meredith," he huffs, a note of frustration in his voice.

"If you did," I hiss back, "you wouldn't keep doing it."

"Aren't you ready to take our relationship to the next level?" he asks slyly, pulling me back towards him.

"You realize we've only been together a couple of months, right?"

"So what?" he asks, leaning in and trailing kisses along my neck.

I stiffen as his lips brush my skin and roll my eyes. I actually really hate when Brenden does this. It makes me feel like something's crawling on me.

"Don't you want to know what it's like?" I shiver as his breath hits my ear and hold in an annoyed growl. If there's anything worse than the neck thing, it's when he breathes in my ear like this. "I can tell you're curious."

"Not really," I manage to say without shouting at him. It just sounds weak. If we weren't out after hours, I would certainly have shouted, but I don't really fancy getting us into detention.

"I don't believe you," Brenden whispers in my ear.

This time I can't control my reflexes and I rub my ear against my shoulder in an attempt to get rid of that awful sensation of breath in my ear canal. "Ugh, cut it out!" I whisper-shout, pulling away from Brenden once again.

Brenden leans against the wall again and rubs his face with his hands. "Sometimes, I really don't get you."

"You could work a little bit harder to listen," I suggest sarcastically. "That would help." I make my way out of the cramped space and start walking quickly, but silently towards Gryffindor Tower.

"Wait! Meredith!" Brenden call out behind me a little too loudly for my sanity. What's he doing? Does he want us to get caught?

I turn around and glare at him, warningly. "What? You better hope there isn't a patrol nearby."

"If we get caught it would be your fault."

I stare at him in disbelief, mouth slightly agape. "Goodnight, Brenden," I respond dismissively, turning away from him and continuing towards the Gryffindor Common Room. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Meredith-!" he calls after me again, but I don't stop. My blood is boiling and I really don't want to get to the point that I hex my boyfriend.

As I make it to the correct staircase along the corridor, I can hear voices echoing down from where Brenden and I just were. A Slytherin Prefect found him out.

Good. He deserves it for being a right arse just now. Smiling coldly, I ascend the staircase and return to the Common Room.

Somehow, Brenden got off without detention. He didn't even lose any points for Ravenclaw.

"How did you manage that?" I ask him, confused and a bit disappointed.

"What does it matter? You left me alone to get caught."

"You were the one who was yelling," I reply in disbelief.

"I wouldn't have been yelling if you weren't being so unreasonable," he says defensively. He really seems to think he did nothing wrong.

"I'm unreasonable?" I begin, but the bell ending lunch rings and interrupts me.

"I've got to go," Brenden says slinging his school bag over his shoulder. "Meet up in the library after dinner?"

"I've got Quidditch practice," I say flatly in response.

"Right. Of course." Brenden raises his eyebrows briefly and gives a forced semi-smile before turning away. "See you tomorrow, then." The disappointment in his voice is evident.

He leaves me feeling both incredibly frustrated and overwhelmingly guilty.

Wait. Why do I feel guilty? I didn't even do anything! He's the one being ridiculous and pushing the boundaries I have set. I shouldn't feel guilty for sticking to my guns.

Even though my head is telling me this, I can't shake the guilt that's settled into my chest. I walk to Defense arguing and berating myself for everything that's happened since last night.

In Defense, I can't focus at all. James is sitting next to me telling Fred about some great scheme he's come up with while Fred half-listens, twirling a quill in his fingers. Professor Gaines drones on about the theory behind some offensive technique that was developed by wizards in the 1600s and how it affected the development of modern dueling, but I can't digest anything either James or Gaines is saying.

"I know Hufflepuff has Smith, but if you can get him focused on one person, he's pretty much useless during a game."

"… top of page 436 there is a diagram that outlines the wand movement…"

"… can't breach a defense like that…"

"…perfect position to counter in whatever way you choose."

My pen is poised over my empty sheet of parchment I intended to take notes on, but all I can do is stare as the ink drips off the tip and creates a large puddle on the paper.

Did I mess everything up for good? Is Brenden even going to talk to me later?

Why should I worry about that! He was the one who crossed the line. I shouldn't have to apologize.

I grip my pen tighter and my hand starts shaking from the strain. I gently set the pen down and flex my hand. Why did I even bother coming to class today?

I rest my chin on my fist and stare at the board behind Professor Gaines where a large chalk image moved to explain the complicated wand movements Gaines was reviewing. I have no idea what it means. I hope Phil or Roger are taking notes. James and Fred certainly aren't.

"Is Gaines that boring today?"

James has pushed aside his sketch and is now addressing me. I look over at him without moving my head and just sigh.

"Are you going to be like this the rest of the day?"

I shrug in answer.

"You have any plans after practice?"

Brenden's disappointed face pops into my mind and the mixture of rage and guilt that's been setting in surges to the surface. I lean back in my seat, inhaling sharply and crossing my arms tightly across my chest. "Just taking a warm shower and going to bed as soon as possible," I respond. "Maybe trying to get some homework done."

"Sounds lame."

"You have a better idea?" I ask, annoyed.

"Actually, yeah."

I look at him, cocking one eyebrow curiously. "Is that so?"

"I was thinking I could interest you in a little one-on-one by the lake."

"One-on-one? Don't you think you have an unfair advantage seeing as I'm a Seeker and not a Chaser?"

"Maybe. Scared?"

I look at him sideways. "I don't think that's a good idea, James."

"Don't worry," he says easily bumping my shoulder gently. "I'll make sure that we're not out past curfew."

I don't tell him that curfew isn't what I'm worried about. I've been out past curfew plenty of times this year. James doesn't know that, though. What I am worried about is if Brenden finds out that I blew him off to hang out with James. He hasn't explicitly said this, but I can tell Brenden doesn't like me spending so much time with the guys, especially James.

"Pleaaassseeeeee…?" James whines leaning across the desk and give me a pathetic look.

I turn my head his direction and sigh. I do want to go quite a bit, but with things as they are with Brenden…

"What about Ruth?" I ask him. His current girlfriend, Ruth Fairbanks, has been taking up a good bit of his time recently, but I'm pretty sure he's been wanting to break up with her.

"Eh. She ditched me this morning."

"She ditched you?"

"Yeah," James says, picking at some fuzz on his sleeve. "She said I wasn't taking good enough care of her." There's something odd in his voice; like he's not telling me everything.

I smirk, knowingly. She's not wrong. James is a rubbish boyfriend. If he wasn't so popular, no girl in their right mind would want to date him. Good for Ruth. Maybe James will learn something and be better next time.

"Can't say I'm sorry to see her go," he continues. "She was way too needy and demanding."

I roll my eyes slightly. Maybe not.

"So how about it?" James asks me, again, propping his head up on his fist. "I feel like it's been ages since the two of us have hung out."

James's messy hair is falling into his chocolate brown eyes at the angle in which he is currently holding his head. I can see why all the girls say he's fit, I admit to myself. There really is no deny that he's good-looking.

"Fine," I finally concede as I turn to face forward once again. I swallow back the guilt that now seems to have grown into a lump in my throat with that one simple word.

Don't feel guilty, I scold inwardly. Brenden could have met you after practice if he had wanted to. And besides, you're just hanging out with your best mate.

A mate you just called fit, another voice in my head responds.

I clench my fist hard, take a deep breath, and push that thought to the back of my mind as best I can.

"Brilliant," James says with a wide smile. "Be sure to wear some warm clothes to practice. It's going to be cold tonight."

Why did I let James talk me into this? It has got to be the coldest night so far this year. After sitting through a rough practice where James, Phil, and Roger attempted to decipher Fletcher's inane instructions, my fingers felt almost frozen despite my gloves. I almost told James that we needed to find another time to hang out, but he looked so excited, I didn't have it in me to tell him that I didn't want to anymore.

So now I'm hovering in the air and trying to steady my shivering body as James flies past me again with the Quaffle and shoots at our pretend hoop behind me. "That's another score for Potter!" James shouts as he does a victory lap over the lake. "The score is 70-20 Potter!"

My pride is hurting as he rubs his goal in once again. "This is so unfair!" I yell at him as he zooms past me, again. "If you had let out a Snitch, I'd be up 100 points by now." I wrap my arms around myself to try to get a little warmer with no success.

"True," he admits coming to a stop in the air next to me. "But then the game would be over too quickly. Aren't you having fun?"

"It would be loads more fun if I didn't feel like I was going to freeze to death."

James laughs and claps me on the shoulder. "Let's call this a game, then, and head inside."

I only nod in response. It's too cold for any more words.

"So where's the Quaffle got to?" James asks himself out loud.

"Did you go get it after your last goal?" I manage to ask through chattering teeth.

"I didn't have time before my celebration. Didn't you go get it?"

"I'm too cold to even move and you expect me to retrieve your ball? Not a chance, Potter."

The two of us look at each other and then down at the lake shore we are hovering over. The remaining dim winter light washes the color from scene, making it even more difficult to find the lost ball.

"Bullocks," James says under his breath. He took the word right out of my mouth.

"It must have rolled in to the lake," I say after a moment.

Cold momentarily forgotten, James and I fly down to the ground and dismount our brooms. "It can't be too far from here," James says as he walks to the edge of the lake, searching carefully for the lost Quaffle. "There!"

My eyes dart to where he pointed suddenly, but before I can spot the Quaffle, I hear a "splash" as James jumps in the lake after the ball.

I stare blankly for a moment at the place on the shore from which James disappeared and there is a haunting silence as I wait for James to surface. The pause feels like hours.

Has it even been a minute? Where is James? What happened? Why hasn't he come up, yet?

Each moment is excruciating. I feel absolutely helpless.

Where the hell is James?

Why did that idiot have to jump in?

What am I going to do?

Another splash further from the shore followed by a loud gasp of air penetrates the silence. I release the breath I was holding, both relieved and petrified. I scan the surface of the lake in the ever-diminishing light and finally spot James's figure thrashing near the center of the lake. I quickly remount my broom and fly out to him as fast as my broom allows.

"James! Grab my hand!" A wet and frigid hand grabs the one I have outstretched. I lurch forward suddenly, nearly losing my seat and falling into the lake, as James tries to pull himself up and I grip the handle of my broom as hard as I possibly can with my other hand.

"Stop pulling!" I can tell that pulling him out of the water by myself is going to be impossible and my mind frantically tries to find a way to save James.

"I'm going to pull you to the shore!" I yell to James as a solution finally comes to me. "Don't panic. You'll be okay."

I can't tell if James can hear or understand what I'm saying, but I keep up a steady stream of encouraging and calming words as I fly slowly back to the shore, pulling James along carefully to keep his head above the surface.

I manage to pull James to a shallow part of the lake near the shoreline and he is able to stand and stumble his way out of the water. The daylight is gone, but even in this light, I can tell James's lips are blue and his skin is paler than I've ever seen it.

I pull out my wand and cast a warming charm on James. "I can't remember the spell for the warm air, or I would try to dry your clothes out," I tell him as he begins shaking uncontrollably next to me. "We have to get you some place warm."

I grab both of our brooms, pocket my wand, and support James as I force him to walk towards the closest building I can think of: the Quidditch locker rooms. We make our way there painfully slowly, stopping several times to wake a dazed James. My mind can't seem to move past getting him to the locker rooms. I have no idea what we're going to do when we get there, but somehow everything will work out if we do.

Finally, I drag James through the door into the locker room and the warm air from the building washes over me. "We made it James," I say, more to myself than to him. "Everything is going to be okay, now."

James doesn't respond. He has leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. "No! James! You can't fall asleep, now." A puddle of cold water is starting to form under James from his dripping clothes. "Let's get you out of these clothes. Do you have any extras in your locker?"

I don't wait for him to respond as I stalk over to his locker and pull it open. A pile of dirty clothes tumble out onto me, but I don't allow myself to think about it. I grab the first shirt and pair of sweatpants I come across and bring them to James.

He has sunk to the floor now, his legs shaking too much for him to stand. "Come on, James. We have to change you out of those wet clothes."

I pull off his gloves, scarf, and coat carefully and manage to pull James's arms through his shirt and get it over his head without too many issues. I wrap a towel around his bare shoulders for the time being to try to warm him up a little bit more. James seems to be improving, but he still looks shocked and confused. I had better get him out of his wet clothes faster. I really thought that he would responsive by now. At least it's just his pants, socks, and shoes left.

With renewed vigor, I pull off his damp shoes and socks. I reach down to undo the button on James's pants, but a quivering (and ice cold) hand grabs my wrist. "W-w-w-w-haaa-a-a-at are y-y-y-y-you d-d-d-d-doing?"

Responsive. Good. We are making progress.

"We have to warm you up, you idiot," I tell him impatiently, trying to free myself from his grasp. "And it would be a lot easier to do that if you get out of your wet clothes."

"B-b-b-but no one's e-e-e-ever…" he stammers. "You c-c-c-can't just tak-k-k-k-ke off…" I look up at James's face to tell him to shut it and let me help, but I'm startled to see his face bright red, even in his condition, and he's looking at the floor next to him.

I blush of my own creeps up my cheeks as I realize:

I.

Am.

Undressing.

James.

Potter.