It was a Wednesday evening and Poppet was freezing cold. She was stood on the Quidditch pitch, shivering. Stood beside her was Florence, who was almost frostier than the weather. Poppet glowered. It was almost May and yet the evenings were still cold. James shouted instructions at them from meters away. He'd really been hitting the ground running with Quidditch practice. They'd only been back to school a week and already James had scheduled more practices, much to the distaste of his teammates. Florence had almost threatened to quit the team during their practice the previous Sunday. It was getting more and more intense by the week but their match was only four weeks away. Hufflepuff were looking as strong as ever and Lucas Smith hadn't died yet, so things weren't looking good for Gryffindor.
Reluctantly, Tobias had returned to practices. James needed him back. He was, despite his terrible personality, a key player on their team and Poppet and Al both knew that he was a better Chaser than both of them put together. If they were going to beat Hufflepuff then they'd need a good attack. Tobias made a good attack a great attack, even though nobody would admit it. He was being cautious around James now and spoke in only grunts. He spent most of his time at practice whispering to Blane. Blane was another reason these practices were unpleasant. Poppet spent most, if not all, of her time answering Florence's questions. "Is he looking at me, Pops?" or "Did he laugh at that joke I made, Pops?" or "Do you think he's talking about me, Pops?" every single freaking moment they were on the pitch. Poppet felt bad for her. She knew she'd be the same in her position.
It was getting dark when James finally decided that enough was enough and he called it a night. They'd already missed dinner. Poppet's stomach growled under her scarlet robes. Florence helped James and Poppet take all the equipment back to the store room and then the three of them walked back up to the castle together, eager to feel the warmth of the common room fire on their icy cold hands. Florence moaned the whole way back about Blane.
"Who does he even think he is?" Tonight was an angry night. She had sad nights. She had careless nights. She had happy nights. Every night after practice was different. It was like a Russian roulette of emotions. "If you break up with someone, that's it. It's black and white. He shouldn't have made it so ambiguous. Is it so I can't hook up with other guys? Is that why he's sort of tying me down even though we're not together? I'm tempted just to hook up with someone. Logan made a pass at me the other day, perhaps I should date him. I mean, he's not really my type but that would sure show Blane!"
James squeezed Poppet's hand and they shared an amused grin. Florence was an over-analyser. She obsessed about anything that didn't make total sense to her. Poppet was sure it was because she was so smart. When you're clever, things that you don't understand are far more annoying because you're so used to everything making sense.
They reached the castle and James stopped by the doors of the Great Hall. "We'll meet you back in the common room, Flo. Hastings and I have got some stuff to do down here."
"What stuff?" Florence asked, looking quizzically at both of them. Poppet was confused too. She wasn't aware of any commitments she had that evening.
"Just some couple stuff," James said, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. "You probably don't want to hear about it."
"Ugh, if you're going off to make out or something-"
"That's exactly what we're doing," James said, quickly. He squeezed Poppet's hand again and she decided not to protest.
"Gross," Florence said, turning away from both of them and lifting her hand absently as a goodbye.
"Blane breaking up with her has changed her," Poppet said, sadly, "I used to tell her everything about us, even the goriest details, but now she doesn't want to hear it."
James started walking again and it didn't take long for Poppet to realise where they were headed. They headed down to the basement and Poppet assured her growling stomach that food was on the way.
"She's getting on my last nerve," James huffed, taking the stairs two at a time. Clearly he was hungry as well. "It's like we can't have any time alone because she's always clinging to you like a limpet."
"We're alone now, aren't we?" Poppet said, as James strode down the corridor to the door of the kitchens.
"Well, yeah," James conceded, "I did have to lie though."
"I know she's not easy to be around at the moment but I have to be there for her," Poppet sighed, stepping through the portrait hole once James had tickled the pear. She had no idea how he'd acquired the information that tickling that pear was how to get into the kitchen. It didn't seem like something one would uncover accidentally. "I'm her best friend."
"I know," James said, softly, "I wasn't criticizing your loyalty."
Poppet was about to reply but as soon as she opened her mouth she was interrupted by a flock of elves. James asked if they could have some of what everyone else ate for their dinner tonight and the elves obliged, showing them to one of the large wooden tables and asking them if they'd like anything to drink. It was like being in a restaurant. James asked for two glasses of elderflower wine and Poppet was surprised when the elves didn't question it and brought them a whole bottle and two goblets. James shrugged and poured out two glasses, handing one to Poppet who sipped it gratefully. "Here's to a Gryffindor victory," James said, holding his glass up in the air in front of him. Poppet knocked her glass lightly on to his, smiling.
The elves soon brought their dinner to their tables. A large portion of casserole had been piled onto their plates, as well as two large dumplings, carrots, beans and some sweet potato mash. Poppet's mouth watered. Now, this is what she was talking about. She and James tucked in; silence fell across the table as they both devoured their meal. Once she'd eaten all she could, Poppet sighed, taking a large swig of elderflower wine and pouring herself another glass, topping James up as she went.
"That was fucking delicious," James said, pushing his plate away from him. His cheeks were rosy from the heat of the kitchen, the warmth of his meal and the wine in his glass.
"It was very well received after that practice," Poppet said, standing up and taking their plates to a sink that was behind them, despite the protests from the elves that they should do it.
"I'm worried that the upset harmony in the team is going to make us play worse," James grumbled, standing up to bringing their glasses over to the sink with him.
"We'll be fine," Poppet assured him, leaving the plates to soak. James looked unconvinced.
Pokey came running over to Poppet and James, asking them if they'd like anything else. "Yes, actually," James said, quietly, "I would like a plate of brownies to go and another bottle of elderflower wine please."
"Certainly," Pokey nodded and rushed off to go and get their request.
"Brownies and wine? We can't take those back to the common room," Poppet said, quizzically, "I know we wouldn't be left alone then."
"Maybe we shouldn't go back to the common room then," James acted as if it was just a suggestion, something that he'd thought of two minutes ago but Poppet knew him better than that. He'd overrun practice on purpose so they could have dinner alone and now he had another mysterious location for them to go for.
"But it's late," Poppet commented.
"That's what makes it exciting," James said, with a wink.
Laden with brownies and wine, Poppet and James crept through the Hogwarts corridors. Curfew for sixth and seventh years was nine thirty and it was getting on for nine fifteen. If a teacher caught them out and about now, they'd definitely be sent back to the common room. Poppet knew where he was taking her almost as soon as they reached the Seventh Floor corridor. The door to the Room of Requirement blossomed on the wall and James looked both ways before opening the door. Giggling, Poppet followed him in. Before them was a small, cosy room with a roaring fire. There was wooden door leading off the room. Tea lights were littered around a giant comforter lay on the floor in front of the fire. The comforter was piled high with pillows and cosy blankets. In front of the fire were two pairs of pyjamas, folded and now probably very toasty.
"Here we are," James said, laying the plate of brownies down on a small trestle table in the corner of the room, "I present to you the Room of Requirement. Or, as I like to call it, the Cum and Go Room."
Poppet grimaced. "That is awful. Never speak to me again."
"Oh, come on," James laughed, "I've had that one planned since we left the kitchens."
"What's through that door?" Poppet asked, pointing at the wooden door that was opposite them. The door into the actual room had disappeared now.
"I asked for it to be en-suite," James said, with a mischievous grin.
"Very fancy," Poppet commented, kicking off her Quidditch boots and setting them down by where the door to the room would be. She busied herself, sorting out the blankets to make the comforter as comfortable as possible for them. James helped, fluffing the pillows.
"Are you ready for a night of passion?" James joked after their bed was sorted. He poured out two glasses of wine.
"I'm having a night of passion? I must be sleeping with someone other than you then," Poppet teased him.
"Hilarious," James said, rolling his eyes, "I assume you've thought of a career in comedy."
"Thought about it? I get asked to do gigs all the time! But, you know, I always turn them down. I put my studies first," Poppet said, taking a sip of her wine and settling herself atop the blankets.
"Putting your studies first? You really are flexing that comedic muscle tonight," James said, joining her on the comforter.
"They don't call me Poppet 'Comedy-Genius-Star-Quidditch-Player-Outstanding-Student' Hastings for nothing."
"I've never heard anyone call you that. I often hear you get referred to as Poppet the Loser, though," James said. It was a lame come back and he knew it.
"It's weird when you say my first name," Poppet said, setting her glass down and lying back. The comforter was so squishy and soft. She could almost feel her eyes closing and sleep finding its way to her.
"Pop-pet," James said, slowly. He watched her carefully while he said it.
"Why do you always call me Hastings?" Poppet asked, turning to face him. He was lying down too now.
James shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I was trying to be sort of flirty at the beginning but it just stuck."
"I like it."
"Good to know."
"I like you."
"It would be bloody awkward if you didn't."
They both laughed.
"Kiss me." The words escaped Poppet's mouth as a hoarse whisper. James obliged.
Poppet and James lay under the blankets stark naked and very close to one another, almost but not quite touching. They were talking and had been for hours. Things had got heated and naked and now they were still and quiet. Poppet had told James about her family history, her life at Beauxbatons, her life before that living in Boston and everything she possibly could tell him about her. He told her a lot about him too. She now knew about family holidays to France, Greece, Egypt and even Cornwall and pranks that were played by him on Albus. She knew about The Second Wizarding War. She knew all about Harry's parents, Ginny's parents and all of James' aunts and uncles. It was three a.m.
"We should go to sleep," Poppet said, reaching out to hold his hand.
"I know we should, but I don't want to," James sighed, taking her hand and squeezing it.
"We have lessons tomorrow," Poppet groaned.
"Or, alternatively, we could not have lessons," James said. In the amber glow of the fire, Poppet could see a stupid smirk on his face.
"James," Poppet said, calmly, "I don't know if you've forgotten but it's Thursday tomorrow. We generally have school on a Thursday."
James groaned. "We could skive."
"I'm sure McGonagall would love that," Poppet said, rolling her eyes.
"We have a free tomorrow first period anyway. We won't have to get up until like... ten at the latest," James said. His voice was slow, groggy and sleepy.
"Don't forget we need to shower, get back to the common room and get dressed and then get all our books ready for period two," Poppet reminded him.
"Okay, nine-thirty then," James conceded. "Nine forty-five if we save time by showering together."
Poppet scowled. "An extra fifteen minutes in bed? You make a convincing case."
"Don't pretend that's what is making you want to shower with me," James said, with a laugh.
"Oh, I'm not pretending. While you without clothes is an obvious pull for me, an extra fifteen minutes in bed is much more appealing," Poppet joked, kneeing him gently in the thigh.
James dropped her hand and grabbed her waist, pulling her on top of him. He was strong. Poppet was no lean bean. Her face was millimetres from his and he kissed her, softly on the lips and she kissed back, faster and harder than he was expecting. "You're a nerd," he mumbled into her neck. Poppet laughed, feeling his breath tickle her neck as he pressed small, sweet kisses on her collarbone.
Sleeping is definitely overrated.
AN: HIYA. Thanks for reading! Sorry I didn't update yesterday, I was at a Florence & The Machine concert and I totally forgot! I hope you enjoyed this. I like the Poppet-James banter. I hope you do too. Remember to reviewwwwww (: