Chapter 3

"Hey, Milla?" said Luke inquiringly.

I looked up from my toast, only half paying attention. I never was really awake until noon. Not a morning person, obviously.

"Yeah?"

"How did James take the news?"

That got my attention. "WHAT?" I screeched.

Luke recoiled.

"YOU HAVEN'T SPOKEN TO HIM ABOUT IT YET?"

I was furious. How could James's best mate seem apologetic for cocking up and getting detention during a huge Quidditch match if he was ignoring James? What kind of fucked up logic was that?

Luke said meekly, "Er…no, I've rather been avoiding him."

He looked at me guiltily. I glared.

"You'd better say something to him or he's going to fucking murder you," I said scathingly. How could he! The bleeding idiot.

"I know."

"He will physically mutilate you."

Luke paled further. "I know."

"More than that, Charlotte will be his accomplice. She will personally make sure you will never have children."

Luke turned white as a sheet. "I know."

I simply glared at him. I crossed my arms and just sat there in silence, looking indignantly at him. The bloody mental… idiotic… mad…moronic… the list went on and on. He was bloody stupid, that's what.

After a pregnant silence, during which Luke looked increasingly ashamed, he chose to spoke. See? I was right. Silence is louder than words.

Oh, the wisdom I have. Or rather, that the old adages carry.

He said with trepidation, "I'm sorry, Milla. Really, I am. I know I've royally fucked up. I'll go talk to him."

I raised an eyebrow. "When? He'll be down soon."

"Later?"

I glared. Wrong answer.

"Er, I'll just find him now, shall I?"

My stony look softened a bit. Poor sod. I said, less harshly, "James is your best mate. He'll understand. Plus, I've already spoken to him, so he's calmed down a bit."

His face relaxed. "Thanks, Milla, you're the best."

I smiled smugly. "I know. Okay, go!"

I shooed him off. He went and I called after him, "You owe me one!"

Humph. Stupid bloody boys. When will they learn?

Later that day, during a break, I was doing work in the common room when Charlotte came running up to me. She had just finished Ancient Runes.

"Hey, Camilla," she said with a stern expression.

Oh, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Whenever she used my first name (never), something momentous had happened or she was mad. By my brilliant powers of deduction, I realized she knew about what Luke had done. Oh, he was so done for.

Okay, better just to tell her and circumvent her anger before it reared its ugly head.

"Okay, so basically Luke did something and got detention and he can't play in the Ravenclaw match. James isn't happy, but he's not furious."

Char looked mutinous. "What a fucking idiot."

Well, that summed it up well. "I know."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

I looked remorsefully at her. "Sorry. I meant to, but with everything and me having to calm down James before he killed your brother, I just didn't have time."

Char looked mollified at the thought of me having to deal with James. And she calls herself my best mate. Psh. Not bloody likely.

"You aren't supposed to look elated at the thought of me dealing with an irate James," I said wryly.

She looked pointedly at me. "And since when do I do what I'm supposed to do?"

"True."

"Anyway," she continued, "I will be killing Luke soon, but not before James gets to him."

I glanced at her and said, "Thank you, Captain Obvious. You have so edified me."

"Shut up."

I smiled. See? We had a great friendship.

Char's eyes lit up as she exclaimed, "So, I've added another requirement to my list."

I looked at her blankly. "List?"

She looked at me in shock. "THE list. My marriage requirement list. Duh."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh" was my length response.

"I was reading Witch Weekly and they were discussing how if men give us carnations on a date, they aren't hubby material."

Oh, for God's sake. Isn't there a limit when the list gets too long and the requisites too specific/outrageous?

I mean, for Merlin's sake, there would be no one to fit the bloody requirements. Charlotte would have to make a cardboard cutout of her dream man and marry him. How did a Quidditch aficionado become a husband hunter too? And at our age! Char was so weird.

Char glared. "Don't give me that look. I know you think I'm ridiculous. Merlin knows what Miranda thinks at this point. But I know he's out there. I know it. And when you end up alone with a cat or a Pygmy Puff or some other ridiculously pathetic pet I will laugh at you."

She finished her speech with a triumphant look. I just stared at her. She really had gone off the edge. Time to owl St. Mungo's.

Suddenly my eye caught the time. FUCK! Time for class.

"Char, gotta go. Love you, but you're crazy." And with that, I left speedily for Care of Magical Creatures.

Milla darling,

Hope term is going well. We miss you. Daddy says hi and he will write you soon (don't worry, I'll make him). I hope you're doing well in your classes – don't get too strung up on Quidditch. Although Merlin knows James is eons worse than you. By the way, Ginny is with me and wants me to ask you to keep an eye on James. She doesn't want him to run mad, in her words. If James is reading this, tell him I love him and that his mum is saying this.

Please keep an eye on Ian too. He hasn't written me yet! I haven't heard much from you either, come to think of it. Tsk tsk, Camilla Bancroft. You should be writing your mummy often. You did come out of me, you know.

Anyways, I hope everything is going well. Say hi to Charlotte and Miranda for me.

Love,

Mum

Ah! Why did Mum have to be so crude? I knew I bloody came out of her. She didn't need to write it in a letter! And I did need to check on Ian. Hmm. Hadn't seen him in three days.

That's probably not a good thing.

I scanned my eyes around the room for him. Ah, there he was.

"Ian! Get over here!"

Yes, I was a good sister. I just was…forthright. Yes, that was it.

He grumbled and walked over. "What, Milla?"

"Mum wants you to write her."

He rolled his eyes. "She always does."

I grinned. " I know. It's the same every year. Anyway, how are you getting on? Haven't seen you in three days."

He looked at me incredulously. "So?"

Bloody impertinent Fifth Year. "I care about you, you tosser! You're my brother."

"Unfortunately."

"HEY!" I exclaimed.

He smiled. "I know. And I'm fine. So much bloody work…"

I smiled sympathetically. "I know. It blows."

He winced. "I've been assigned three Transfiguration papers."

"Ouch."

I patted him on the shoulder and said, "I have to go. Quidditch practice."

Ian rolled his eyes. "That's nothing new."

I grinned, "I know. Gotta love it."

The next week I had five Quidditch practices. FIVE. That's a lot. James was ruddy mad. Why did he need to kill me with exercise? Death by Quidditch, that was new.

On top of that, NEWT work was piling up. Stupid professors thought they "had to work us hard this year so we would succeed in our careers."

Well who gives a flying fuck about careers? That was … in the future. Didn't concern me.

So between classes and Quidditch I had no time. I was so incredibly busy, all the time. It was unbelievable. Char, Miranda and I had taken to exchanging assignments and copying each others for everything (James naturally copied everything I did – nothing had changed).

After a particularly difficult and strenuous Quidditch practice Thursday night, I had finally changed and was getting ready to head back to the castle when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned and saw James. I gave him a look, clearly communicating my frustration with such a grueling workout (even if it kept me in shape).

He had the good grace to look slightly shameful but said lightly, "Milla, let's go for a walk. It's nice out tonight. Will be one of the only warm nights left."

I relaxed a bit and leaned into his arm, which was slung casually around me. He began to lead me around the lake. It was nearing dark, the hazy dusk that bathes everything in a soft glow. Some stars were visible, and their reflections were shimmering in the water. It was a beautiful evening. I sighed contentedly. James gave me an intense look, and I felt completely serene.

These moments were the best. Just me and James.

We went on walks often after practice, to talk and vent and anything else that needed a release. It was better than a therapy session. We talked all the time, but these seemed to be very therapeutic talks.

"So how was your day?" inquired James, his dark eyes looking down at me.

"Stressful. Bloody Neville and all that work he assigned. And I have a Binns essay to write. And then Quidditch on top of that. It's been a hard week. It's a tough year," I admitted.

James squeezed me. " I know, but once it's over, we're out."

I smiled slightly. "I know. I wonder about afterward. The future."

James looked pensive. "It'll be fun. You and me and our jobs. We can do whatever we want. It'll be great. We can be with Ben and Char and Luke and Miranda and we can all hang all the time."

I smiled. "It'll be good, I think. You know, it gets me wondering. About everything. What we'll be. Where we'll live in London. Who we'll marry."

James looked slightly surprised. "Marry? You're thinking about marriage? That's a Charlotte thing to say."

I grinned. "Char got me thinking earlier. She's always on about it. It's hard not to think about it."

James shrugged. "Who knows? We'll probably marry someone from Hogwarts, I s'pose."

I smiled wistfully. "Hopefully."

James gave me a strange look. "Why? Found your future husband already? Why haven't I been told?"

I punched him lightly on the arm. "Don't be ridiculous. It's just fun to speculate."

James looked at me oddly again. "Speaking of which… I've been meaning to tell you something."

I looked up, shocked. "What's up? You're getting married?"

He laughed. "Not bloody likely. No, but I've just started dating someone."

My jaw dropped and I'm sure my eyes bugged. "WHAT?"

James looked a bit sheepish. "Yeah, you know that Ravenclaw Lucia Thomas? The dark-haired one?"

"Yes…" I said cautiously.

"Well, it's her."

Her. Bloody Lucia. She was dark and exotic and pretty. She wasn't that smart – of average intelligence. I wasn't friends with her either, just amicable from classes over the years.

"Oh," I said dumbly.

James looked at me intensely. "You okay?"

I looked at him guiltily. "Yeah, sorry. I'm just a bit shocked."

James squeezed me. "I know, but she's nice. You'll like her once you know her better."

"It's not that I dislike her," I hastily amended, "It's just that.. this is so weird. I just have to get used to it."

James was dating. I couldn't believe it. How… when… why did this happen? Lucia Thomas? Really? She was pretty, I grant you, but nothing special. Not James's type, that's for sure. I felt a pang. I suddenly felt tears pricking my eyes, for some ridiculous reason. I blinked them away and took a deep breath. I was overreacting. I was being bloody ridiculous.

I needed to pull myself together. Come on, Milla, what's wrong with you!

I shoved my hands in my pockets and took another deep breath. Suddenly James's arm around my shoulder felt like a heavy weight, his feel branding my back and shoulders. I shrugged him off without realizing it. Fuck. He would know something was wrong now. Quickly! Do something to rectify this disaster.

I pasted a fake social smile on my face. Thank Merlin it was nearing dark or he'd see right through it. Damn James and him knowing me too well. Bloody fuck.

I said, with a false cheeriness, "James, I'm happy for you. Truly. You and Lucia will make a good couple. She's such a unique person!"

That last part, at least, was true. Thank God for the ambiguity of the English language, and our ability to manipulate it to bandy double entendres. Lucia was … unique. At least, in my sense of the definition, unique was retarded, weird, strange, bad, and any other negative adjective.

I felt slightly better.

James said slowly, "Milla, are you sure you're okay with this? I know it's a lot to take in…"

I laughed loudly. Too loudly. James knew it was fake. He knew I knew he knew. Oh, fuck this.

I sobered up. "Look, I'm happy you've found someone to date. Really. I just need to get used to this."

Please buy this. Please.

James looked at me skeptically, but seemed to accept my shitty excuse. I had bought myself some time, at least, to accustom myself to this new occurrence. Ugh.

We walked back to the castle, chatting about anything but Lucia, me giving halfhearted responses as I mulled over my many thoughts. But one question kept going round and round in my mind.

Why Lucia?