The sun shone down on the patio in the garden of Shell Cottage on Saturday afternoon. Poppet sipped a glass of lemonade (made by Lily that afternoon) and sighed, relaxing into the deck chair in which she was sat in. The sun may have been shining but it was still pretty cold. British weather was the epitome of unpredictable. Even in April, temperatures could be six degrees one day and eighteen the next. There was no breeze in the air and the sea below them was flat like a tabletop and a metallic grey colour. The beach was empty apart from an elderly couple who walked along with a Labrador bounding in front of them, its tongue lolling out of its mouth as it ran.

Poppet watched, a smile on her face, as the dog chased a ball. She looked over at James who had his head tilted up to the sky, black sunglasses on and a glass of lemonade in his hand. He looked cool, Poppet thought. James was The Cool Guy. You know the guy; the one who always had a crooked smile, playful eyes and looked handsome even when you knew they didn't. James was him - the stereotypical captain of the team with a following of loyal fangirls. But, unlike The Cool Guy, James didn't have the hottest girl in school as his arm candy. He'd left her for Poppet. Poppet knew she wasn't pretty. She didn't have boys lusting after her at first sight. She had thick thighs, imperfect skin, hair that stuck out and bulged at odd angles when she tied it up, crooked teeth that weren't a perfect white, split ends and a bit of wobble to her tummy. But James chose her. And she'll never know why.

James readjusted his position in the chair and caught Poppet looking over at him. He pulled his sunglasses down to the tip of his nose and looked over them at her. She smiled, weakly, and he winked. Without a word, he turned away.

"I don't want to leave," Poppet said, quietly. Tomorrow, they'd be going home. She'd be spending the last week of the holidays at home with her parents. Even though Poppet would get to see Flo and Roxanne and Jocelyn again, and see her parents too, she was ultimately sad about having to leave this perfect little corner of the world that she was sharing with James (and all of his family, of course).

"Me neither," James replied, sadness echoing in his words.

"I have had a lovely week," Poppet said, reclining back further in her chair. She sighed and tried to find the dog on the beach again. It had gone.

"As have I."

Poppet didn't need to look at James to know that he was smirking. She could tell just by the tone of his voice.

"I'll miss you next week," Poppet conceded. She and James were not really the sort of couple who would admit to missing or needing one another. Saying 'I love you' was challenge enough sometimes.

"I have every intention of seeing you, don't you worry," James said, laughing.

"My parents would probably die if they didn't get to see you," Poppet laughed with him, "I promised them that they could meet you 'as my boyfriend', so you have that to contend with. Sorry in advance."

"The things I do for love," James said sarcastically. Poppet rolled her eyes, sipping the last dregs of lemonade from her cup so that her straw made loud, slurpy noises. James looked over at her, grinning. "Enjoy that?"

"Your sister has a talent. If all else fails, she could be a lemonade chef," Poppet joked, setting the glass down on the ground beside her.

James chuckled loudly. "I'll let her know. Lily thinks you're cool, you know."

"Does she?" Poppet was somewhat shocked. She barely even spoke to Lily. She always wanted to do her own thing. "I thought that she was under the impression I was a complete and utter fool for dating you."

"Well, she does," James admitted, "but she told me that I could have chosen worse people. And, for Lily, that's a huge fucking compliment."

Poppet smiled. "Maybe I am a fool."

"Hey, you know what they say. 'Better a witty fool than a foolish wit,'" James said. He'd taken off his sunglasses now and had the end of them rested on his lip. If Poppet didn't know any better, she would've said he was an intellectual. Poppet knew better, however.

"Quoting Shakespeare, eh?" Poppet said, smirking, "That's hot."

"I can't tell if you're being super sarcastic or if you actually find my intelligence and knowledge of dead muggles attractive," James said and Poppet snorted, "But if the latter is the case then I'm taking a copy of Hamlet up to bed with me tonight."

"If you could quote me scenes from Hamlet then I'd drop my panties faster than you could say-"

At this point, Albus walked out onto the patio. "What have I just walked in to?" he asked, looking mildly horrified. Poppet blushed and not just a little pink flush to the cheeks. Her entire face resembled a London bus. Even James looked embarrassed.

"A private discussion, asswipe," James grumbled, setting down his empty glass of lemonade on the floor. Poppet was still extremely scarlet.

"I just came out here to tell you that dinner was ready and that Mum asked if you two could lay the table but it seems I've stumbled across a weird sex show," Albus mumbled, ignoring James' decision to call him an 'asswipe'. Poppet wished the earth would swallow her whole. She couldn't deal with this level of utter embarrassment.

"It's not a weird show. Adults have sex, Al," James snapped, despite not ever having sex himself.

"Adults don't talk about dropping their knickers on the patio," Albus retorted. Poppet knew that his gaze was on her but she couldn't force herself to look up. This moment was going to haunt her for the rest of her crummy little existence.

"That was out of context, Al," James was angry now, "I'm sorry you're not mature enough to realise that people do talk about sex. It's not a taboo."

Albus rolled his eyes. "You're so touchy. Mum wants you both inside. Come on."

Poppet slowly rose to her feet. Albus walked back in through the front doors and Poppet turned to James, a look of horror struck on her face. "I can't believe that just happened. Merlin's balls. I'm never going to live this down."

James laughed, "I guarantee Albus won't remember it in the morning. Now, come on."

Poppet turned on her heels and walked up the path and back through the French doors, feeling a cheeky hand touch her butt as she stepped into the kitchen. She turned around, giving James a foul look from over her shoulder. He shot back a playful smirk and Poppet rolled her eyes, greeting Ginny as she grabbed forks and knives from the drawer.

After dinner, Ginny and Harry suggested everyone go and pack so they were ready to leave in the morning before Percy arrived with his wife Audrey and their twin ten-year-old girls, Molly and Lucy to take over the house-sitting from the Potter family. Poppet sat on her bed at ten p.m that evening, her back all packed and sadness weighing her down. When she thought about leaving earlier, it didn't seem real. Now, packed up and ready to go, it did and she was not looking forward from removing herself from her little piece of heaven she had here. Falling asleep without matching her breathing to James' would be weird. She'd gotten used to it this week.

James was in the shower. Poppet could hear the water smattering the tiles and could see the steam from under the door. How hot a shower was he having? Part of her wished she could open the door and hop in there with him but privacy needed to be respected. Since their chat on his birthday, nothing more about the 'S word' had been said. The pair of them were both embarrassed about things and so had decided to do what they do best. Ignore the subject entirely. Snogging sessions were kept at that. The shower stopped and Poppet lazily looked up from the book she wasn't really reading as James walked through the door, beads of water dripping from his hair and running down his bare torso. It was like something out of a terrible shampoo advert. He pushed his sopping hair out of his eyes and ruffled it so it stayed up in its usual quiff-but-not-a-quiff state. He had a white, fluffy towel wrapped around his waist. Poppet bit her lip.

"I left my pants in my –"

Poppet wasn't aware she was looking at him expectantly, her teeth still firmly on her bottom lip.

"What? Have I done something?"

"No."

"Then why are you looking at me like I should know what you're thinking?"

"I can't believe you don't know what I'm thinking."

"Oi love, my eyes are up here," James said, with mock annoyance. He knew exactly what she was thinking.

"What eyes?" Poppet joked.

Suddenly, he was on the bed and kissing her lips. Merlin. He cupped her face with his hand and then moved it down to her shoulder. She relaxed back onto the bed, kissing him harder and harder with each passing moment. Poppet felt him shudder as he climbed on top of her. Sparks of electricity shot up Poppet's spine. Her eyes were squeezed shut. She felt James' hands snake up her top, his fingers grazing her skin. And then, her t shirt was off and on the floor and James was kissing her neck, his hands still wandering. He fumbled with the flies of her jeans and his hands shook with nerves. Don't change your mind. Don't get stage fright. She helped him get her jeans off and the subsequently her bra – she heard a small grunt from James when this happened - and suddenly James' towel was on the floor and Poppet was running her hands down his back and kissing his neck. She loved him. She loved him so much and in that moment she couldn't think about anything else apart from that. Everything was him. She didn't even need Shakespeare to want to sleep with him. His torso had done that for her. God, she was sometimes so shallow.

Poppet woke up cold and in the dark. The window had been left open and the duvet wasn't covering her naked body. She shivered, wincing as she walked to the window to shut it. She found her t shirt on the floor which she slipped on, along with her knickers, and she climbed back into bed. James was lightly snoring, still unclothed under their duvet. Poppet pulled the duvet over her bare legs and snuggled under it, rubbing her arms slowly with the palm of her hand to rid them of the goosebumps that had formed. She shut her eyes and willed herself to fall asleep but the thought of what she and James had just done excited her too much. It had finally happened. It was okay. It wasn't the amazing, mega-orgasmic sex that Witch Weekly likes to bang on about. It was awkward; neither of them were one hundred percent sure what they were doing and, on the whole, it was mildly unsatisfying for Poppet. James had gotten what he needed from it, but it was still lacking in certain areas for Poppet but that was to be expected with a virgin boy. She vowed to teach him a thing or two in that department. But, it was nice because it was with someone she loved, as soppy as that sounds.

Once Poppet stopped thinking about James and tried to match his breathing, sleep came very easily and she didn't wake up until morning.

"Have we got everything?" Ginny asked, taking one last look down the hallway downstairs in Shell Cottage.

"I think so," Harry said, counting the kids with a smirk on his face, "We came with four, right?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Don't be stupid, Harry. If we've forgotten something then I'm blaming you."

"You would have done anyway so it hardly makes a difference," Harry snorted, giving his wife an 'I'm sorry' look. She rolled her eyes again.

"Dad's bringing the banter today," James laughed as Ginny shooed them all out of the door. It was very early and, consequently, pretty cold. Poppet drew her coat closer to her body. James gave her a look and indicated to his jacket but she declined. She always felt awkward about taking other people's coats from them when they offered. James shrugged as Harry went over the rules of using the port key again. In a blink of an eye, the Potters and Poppet were back on the front lawn of the Potter's cottage. Ginny told Poppet she could stay as long as she'd like and Poppet said she'd stay for breakfast, if that was okay, and then apparate home.

Breakfast was an impressive feast of pancakes. Poppet ate six and she wasn't even sorry.

AN: VIRGIN BOY IS NO MORE!