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43

OF HEADACHES AND HEARTBREAK

Musical Mood:

Billie Eilish - Happier than ever - edit

I couldn't salvage this, no matter how hard I tried.

James's hand was warm and rough - not dry but calloused from years of gripping a broomstick - and I marvelled at the strangeness of it all; the press of his fingers against my skin, the muscles in his back that moved and flexed underneath his sweatshirt as he led me through the labyrinth of shelves, his height, his hair.

I really liked his hair. I always had. The way it just never lay flat, always mussed and unruly and windswept. I wondered if he knew that it wasn't just brown. That there were nuances - gold and bronze and russet in the sunlight - all of which I had catalogued and tucked away with the butterflies in my stomach.

The music was louder here at the edge of the main room, pulsing in sync with my heartbeat - a little too fast, too chaotic - and I stopped just before there would be no going back. Before we couldn't undo this - whatever this was.

James stopped when he felt the tug on his arm and then turned around. The look on his face was something between a frown and a question and I really wished that I was cooler. I wished that I was the sort of girl who didn't overthink things; who didn't freak out over a bit of snogging at a party.

But I wasn't. I wasn't and he needed to know.

"I'm not -" I took a shaky breath and James's brows furrowed even more. But I had to say it; I couldn't just walk out into a room full of uppers with the Gryffindor golden boy like it wasn't a big deal. Because it was to me. "I don't usually do this, Potter." I tugged on the hand that was still intertwined with his and he followed the movement, looking mildly confused.

"Holding hands?"

"Yes. I mean, no." I sighed, feeling a mixture of frustration and absolute mortification at what I was about to do. "I don't snog behind bookshelves. Or anywhere, for that matter. I don't - I've never even…" I trailed off when I realised what I had been about to say - how much I had already said. But I had barely stopped talking when James closed the gap between us, his hand on my neck and his fingers entangling with my hair.

"I don't usually do this either, Woodley."

I arched an eyebrow at him, because he couldn't be serious, and he breathed out a laugh.

"I mean this," he said, his voice low and coarse, and then he squeezed my hand, sliding the other one to the nape of my neck and tilting my head back just enough so that his lips brushed against the tip of my nose. "Holding hands."

I wanted to laugh; to be nonchalant and flirty and casual, but I couldn't. All I could do was stare at him - at his ridiculously beautiful eyes - and when he kissed me, I felt it in my entire body right down to my core; like a string being pulled tight.

He was too good at that by half.

I put my hand on his arms to push away from him even though it was the last thing I wanted to do. It was scary how much I wanted him - how much I wanted this to be more. It might have been enough. For a while. To exist only in these moments that didn't need to be defined, to only ever have parts and pieces and scraps of someone, but I wasn't that kind of person. I just wasn't.

Someone giggled, then gasped, and I snapped my head around to see a group of girls lingering in the closer vicinity. They weren't even trying to pretend that they hadn't been watching us and I tried to step away from James entirely, but he only held my hand a little tighter as he turned towards the girls, raising an eyebrow at them.

"What?" He drawled, almost lazily - like they were barely worthy of his attention - and I felt his hand slide to the small of my back, his fingers pressing gently into the hollow at the base of my spine. I was mortified, but not as much as the girls whose faces had turned violent shades of pink before they turned around and fled back to the party.

James looked at me then, a little tense and frowning, like he was waiting for me to push him away; to tell him that this was too much, that he wasn't worth it - all the stares and the giggles and the gossip. Right then, he didn't look like the arrogant Quidditch star who strutted around school with a different girl each month, ruining people's class projects. He looked like the boy who had pygmy puff plasters in his wallet, who never stepped on the crawling moonlace in Greenhouse One, even when it had wrapped around his trainers entirely; the boy whose first kiss had become a national news story, dissected and discussed and judged by the public like it was their bloody right.

"Seth?" He asked quietly and I looked up at him, sliding my free hand to the crook of his neck, smearing the last bit of lipstick hearts as my fingers splayed against his skin. He swallowed and I felt the movement against my hand, like his heartbeat that pulsed underneath my fingertips, too fast and too hard.

It was marvellous.

"Yes," I said, not entirely sure what I was saying yes to exactly, but James pushed out a ragged breath and leaned his forehead against mine and I wanted to say yes to him forever. I looked up at him, tilting my head back and stretching towards him as much as I could, and then kissed the corner of his mouth - because I could, because I wanted to.

He smiled against my lips and I felt his hold on me tighten again, his hand grasping my waist, launching a thousand butterflies in the process.

We weren't ever going to make it out of there.

"James? Oi, Jamie, are you here?"

There was a rustle and a thud and James groaned against my mouth. "I'm going to murder him," he muttered as he pulled away a little, frowning over my shoulder, and I turned my head to follow his gaze. Freddie had half-stumbled around the corner, looking distinctly ruffled with the marks on his arms smudged and his bronze hair in disarray.

"James?" He said again, blinking at us through the semi-darkness. "What are you -" He stopped talking abruptly, his mouth shaping a silent oh as his gaze slid to me, then to James's hands that were still firmly holding me around the waist. "Lizzibeth?"

"Mate."

I could see the smile on James's face, the dimple, and my stomach twitched as I felt his hands slide lower down to my hips - slowly, with emphasis, like he wasn't planning on letting go of me anytime soon.

Freddie followed the movement, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards. "Wait," he said, pointing back and forth between James and me. "Were you two snogging?"

He seemed to be genuinely confused, like it wasn't obvious what we had been doing alone in the dark, his eyes wide and innocent. And though my cheeks were glowing, I couldn't help but laugh when James tipped his head back and groaned. "Bloody hell, Frederick."

Freddie's grin was instant. "Holy fucking finally!" He shouted dramatically and I snorted as James shook his head. His fingers had progressed to drawing slow circles against my lower back, casually dipping underneath the cloth of my top before sliding a little lower still, and I felt the impulsive need to lean into him more.

"Um, you two should continue with this thing here and I'm going to -" Freddie pointed over his shoulder as he began to walk backwards, but James shifted a little and I felt his shoulders and arms tense up around me.

"Freddie," he said, not loudly but in a tone that was entirely too serious, and I watched Freddie's grin falter, even as he tried to hold on to his nonchalant composure.

"Hm?"

"What's wrong?"

Freddie's shoulder grazed the shelf next to him, knocking off a couple of books, but he ignored the dull thuds as his gaze swerved from his best friend to me. It wasn't at all comforting. "It's - um - Genie," he said finally and even in the flickering candle light I could see the nervous twitch of his facial muscles. "She's cry-retching in our bathroom." He looked back at James again, a strange set to his jaw; because, of course, there was more to this, but nothing they could easily share with an outsider like me.

He didn't need to say more, though. James had slid one hand off of my hip to drag it through his hair, his brow furrowed as he breathed out a low "fuck", and I felt the knots in my stomach tighten uncomfortably. I couldn't hope to be included in this - maybe I didn't want to be - and I automatically pushed away from James.

But his arm around me stiffened as soon as he felt me pull away, fingers digging into my spine, holding me against him, and I flattened my hands against his biceps, bracing my arms.

"You should go. Really," I said despite the uneasy pricking behind my chest. But it would be good; to get some physical distance from him. Like this - with his arms wrapped around me and his mouth entirely too close - I could barely sustain a coherent thought for longer than a second, which was not an ideal basis for decision-making.

"Promise me you won't leave." His voice was low, intense, like the look he gave me as he tilted his head towards me, his messy hair tumbling into his eyes, and I wished it didn't work so well; that he couldn't make me feel like this.

It was terrifying how easy it was to fall for James Potter - how easy he made it to want this - and I wondered briefly if it had felt like this for all the others, too.

"James -" I shook my head, mostly to not pathetically stare into his eyes, but he looked at me for a moment too long, all dishevelled and soft and not entirely real, and I was desperately clinging to the few meagre scraps of commonsense that I had left.

"Please, Woodley?" There was something slightly desperate in his voice, like he knew I was going to say no. And I should have. Because it felt like nothing good could come of this. Because we were snogging in the dark and I didn't know what it meant.

If it meant anything at all.

But I nodded - despite all of it - and he loosened a breath which turned into a dimpled smile that was wreaking havoc on my heart, even after he had followed Freddie around the corner.

The crowd felt muted somehow, even as I was in the thick of it, pushing through the mass of overheated bodies. I still registered the looks, though - it would have been difficult not to. Teenagers were never careful with their stares, especially after a couple of drinks, and I could feel the shift around me as I moved blindly towards the edge of the common room.

I had hoped that we would have a little longer - a little more time to figure this out. But, of course, that had been naive. Everybody always knew who James Potter was kissing.

There was only little space to move purposefully. The room was too full, too dark, too hazy and I had lost all sense of direction in the multitude of people. Before, in James's arms, I hadn't really thought this through; the prospect of being at a party alone in a strange common room felt distinctly pathetic now that I was blundering through the euphoric crowd on my own. I felt entirely apart - too awkward to ever fit in - and yet, I left a trail of glances and whispers in my wake.

I could leave.

Maybe I should.

I had barely finished the thought, however, when someone pushed against my shoulder and I gasped as I felt the shock of something cold and wet trickle down my skin. Butterbeer was running down my neckline, soaking Katie's silky top so entirely that it felt like I was wearing a wet towel.

"Woah, sorry mate." The broad guy in front of me looked bemused, his empty plastic cup still dripping beer as his eyes slowly travelled down to my drenched top.

Fantastic.

It had taken me too long to find a restroom. The sour smell of the spilled butterbeer was crawling up my nose and my skin was sticky and gross, even after scrubbing it with half a dozen hand soap-soaked paper towels.

I couldn't salvage this, no matter how hard I tried.

"Shit." I let the wad of wet paper drop into the sink and braced my arms on the basin as I stared at the golden lion head on the tap. Like this, reeking of beer and hiding in a restroom, it seemed almost laughably impossible that only half an hour ago I had been snogging James Potter.

Behind me, one of the toilets flushed and I looked up, just as the door banged open and Athena Notte stumbled out of the cubicle. Our eyes met and I froze, unable to not stare at her like a spooked deer in the headlights. There were traces of glitter in her dark, tangled waves and her black skirt was twisted so that the seam was in the front, but she still managed to look intimidatingly glamorous - smudged eyeliner and all.

She stared back at me for a moment, taking in my ruined outfit and the pile of paper towels in the sink, and then, suddenly, she threw her head back and laughed - loudly, drunkenly.

I couldn't even fault her. This was ridiculous.

"That's gonna stain." She snorted as she walked up to the sink next to me, swaying on her kitten heels that clacked unevenly on the tiled floor.

"Right," I said slowly, half fearing that she would trip and fall as I watched her rummage in her tiny bag, pulling out a silver-capped lipgloss. The last time we had been alone together, she had practically accosted me and told me to stay away from James. Now, she didn't even seem remotely interested in me as she traced her lips with admirable precision for someone who struggled with their general balance.

It was my definite cue to leave - Athena, the restroom, this party - before this night could get any worse.

"You know you're not fooling anybody, right?"

"What?" I should have kept moving. But I stopped and snapped my head up at Athena who had bent over her sink, examining her fresh coat of lipgloss in the mirror with unsettling ease.

"He told me," she said and I could feel a vague sense of dread crawl up my spine as I watched her dab her index finger against her lips, blotting the excess colour that now dyed it a shiny red. "He told everybody. About New Year's Eve? About your pathetic attempt to throw yourself at him before he sent you home." Her lips curled into a smirk, the red gleaming like blood in the flickering light. "Yeah, we all know, sweetie. Had a good laugh, too."

Her words slammed into me and I clenched my fingers around the door handle for support as I could see it all - like an awful film montage playing in my head; how James had told me he couldn't 'fucking do this' and I had stumbled out of his bed in nothing but my underwear, scrambling to pull on my dress.

How humiliated and mortified I had felt.

"Aw, did you think he was serious?" Athena leaned against the sink and crossed her arms, a grin on her face and poison in her words. "You seem to have him under your spell now, but that'll wear off soon enough."

She might have been drunk, but her choice of words wasn't coincidental; vicious yes, but deliberate - designed to slither through the cracks in my facade, feeding all my doubts and insecurities. All of my worst fears.

I really wanted to hate her then. To be the villain.

But she wasn't. She was just a girl who had fallen for the wrong guy.

Much like me.

"Hey!" She shouted after me as I pushed the door open and walked out of the restroom, but I didn't turn around again. All I wanted was to leave, to be alone for a second to process this, to think. But I couldn't breathe with the lump that was swelling in my throat, choking me from the inside. My skin was crawling and it was all I could do to not surrender to the spinning room. I wasn't even drunk, but I felt it, in the worst way; like my limbs might give out any moment.

"Seth!" Someone had grabbed my arm from behind and for a terrifying second, I thought that it was James. But the voice didn't quite sound like him and the eyes that looked back at me were much darker. "Hey, where did you go? We were looking all over for you."

Hector sounded concerned, but I could barely think straight as I stared back at him, trying to sort out the mess in my head. Too many things had just happened, none of them good, and then - suddenly - it hit me.

"You knew, didn't you?"

He blinked, opened his mouth, then pressed his lips together again, his eyes darting back and forth between mine. Of course he did. Apparently, bloody everybody did.

"Hector?" I could feel my voice shaking as I stepped up to him, tilting my head further back to glare up at him. "I already told you once that I would hex you into next year and you know I can. So, Merlin help me, Hector Chang, tell me what you know. Now."

He didn't deserve my anger - not like this - but my emotions were in tangles and I was desperately clinging to the only feeling that made sense - that kept me from sliding into a full-on panic attack.

He shook his head mutely, one hand slung across his chest to grip his own shoulder as though to comfort himself, but he didn't argue. "I heard some guys talking in the changing rooms before practice last week. About, um, Potter and you…"

He trailed off, but the look on his face was enough. He didn't need to say more. Athena might have been a drunk mean girl, but she hadn't lied.

"I told them to shut their fucking mouths if they want to ever play again, so -"

"What exactly did they say?" I didn't want to know, but I needed to. I needed to hear the words in order to strangle that last flicker of dumb hope that James Potter hadn't played me like a feckless idiot; that it was all just a misunderstanding. "Hector."

"I don't know." He sighed, the distress oozing from every syllable as his hands twisted into his hair. "Apparently, Potter told his friends that he could have had you if he had wanted to, but it could just be stupid gossip. I -"

I shook my head and he pressed his lips together, because it wasn't. And it didn't matter.

It didn't matter what exactly James had said; if he had sat at a table with his all of his friends over lukewarm beers and called me a pathetic stalker or if he had been tangled up in Athena's sheets, laughing about the dumb, smitten sixth year that had fallen for his easiest trick - none of it mattered.

Because he had told them.

That moment, when I had been raw and vulnerable and unguarded - he had taken it and he had laid it out for everybody like it was nothing. Because it was nothing to him.

I was nothing to James Potter.

Nothing but a drunken anecdote.

"Seth! Seth, wait!" Hector tried to grab my arm when I turned, but I barely noticed as I pushed through the crowd.

The stares and laughter and whispers around me seemed crueller now, more viscous, and I should have felt it more; it should have hurt more. But I didn't know what I was feeling - if I was feeling anything. My insides were disturbingly numb, like someone had punched them repeatedly until they were too battered to process the pain anymore, and all I could do was run.

"I'm so sorry," Hector's voice was right next to my ear, but it sounded distorted beneath the pounding of my heart. "I just wanted to keep that shit from you. You've got so much going on and-"

"There you are!" Katie had barrelled into me from the side, her arm looping through mine as she grinned brightly, giddy pink spots high on her cheeks. Next to her, I vaguely registered Tarquin and Sam, both bright-eyed and dishevelled with drinks in their hands. "Where did you -" She stopped abruptly and then I watched her smile fade as her eyes scanned my face.

I must have looked awful.

"Seth? What's wrong?"

Everything. All of it. But I couldn't tell her. Because, if I did, something would tear, I was sure of it. That thin thread of composure that held me together would snap and I would have to deal with the tangle of confused hurt that pressed against my chest.

So, instead of falling apart in the Gryffindor common room, I shook my head at my best friend. "Honestly, I just want to leave."

"Woodley?"

I knew it was him; even with the heavy beats of the music and the cries and laughter that infused the room. But I turned my head anyway, because I couldn't help myself, and my heart dropped. James was coming towards us, cutting his way through the crowd, and, Circe, I was not ready for the mess of emotions that spilled over in my chest.

I was moving before I knew it, pushing towards the portrait hole with my heart flapping like a frantic hamster. Hands reached for me, probably my friends, but I couldn't stop; not before I was out of this stuffy room, far away from James Potter.

I thought I heard him call after me again, but I didn't turn around this time. For how long had he planned on keeping this cruel game going? He couldn't really think that I wouldn't find out.

For Merlin's sake, half the Ravenclaw Quidditch team knew.

The air felt cool and soothing as I stumbled out of the common room and the panic I had just felt subsided a little. Pale moonlight filtered through the stained glass windows, painting the stone floor muted shades of blue and green, and I willed myself to breathe - slowly, steadily.

I could do this.

I had no idea what time it was - how late or early - but the collateral damage of the party had already manifested itself around the portrait of the Fat Lady: people were sitting on the floor, some hunched over, others leaning against the hallway wall, and the distant sound of retching echoed down the corridor.

"Appalling." The Fat Lady grimaced when the guy sitting next to her portrait slumped even lower and his head lolled to the side with a wad of drool dripping down his chin and onto her gilded frame.

"Is that Isaac Kastner?" Tarquin asked. "Do you think he's alright?"

Sam nudged the Gryfffindor beater's foot. "He doesn't look alright."

"Who cares?" Katie snipped her fingers at them. "Can we stop worrying about some random guy? Seth, what's going on?"

She had turned to look at me, just as Kastner let out a low groan, and I felt a sort of warmth bubbling up behind my chest. I had vaguely registered it before - that they had been behind me all this time - but it was only now that I could fully process it. I had acted like a maniac and my friends had just followed me, no questions asked, and, suddenly, I felt the strong urge to pull them into a sappy group hug.

"Woodley!" The bubbly feeling evaporated immediately when James stepped out of the portrait hole behind us. "Hey, where are you going?" A slightly confused smile was curving his mouth as he took in the scene, his eyes darting swiftly to my friends before settling on me.

I wanted to run. To not have to deal with this - with him - but I was paralysed. My heart was pounding, throwing itself recklessly against my chest as I tried to catalogue the chaos of emotions that surged through me like I had been electrified.

Unfortunately, it was useless.

"Stay away from me, Potter." My voice was trembling, audibly so, but at least it wasn't weak. I was not going to go to pieces in front of the boy who had played me like an idiot. I would - later - but for now, since I still didn't know what exactly I was feeling, I chose anger.

"What?" He frowned, taking a few tentative steps closer, and I noticed that there were wet patches on his T-shirt. I sincerely hoped that Genie Patil had thrown up on him. "Seth, what's - what's going on?"

I snorted, but it was too weepy to be entirely convincing. "Don't pretend like you don't know." My voice broke a little on the last word and I felt an ominous burning sensation behind my eyes that didn't bode well. "You're a prick, Potter."

"Woodley." There was a flicker of panic on his face that I had not expected. "Whatever you heard, I swear I can explain."

"Yeah, I'm sure you can." I shook my head, mostly because I hoped that it would help me to keep it together for just a bit longer. He could do this so well - look at me like he really meant it; just desperately enough to seem genuine. "I'm sure you're really good at it, too." I took a shallow, shaky breath. "But I'm done."

"Seth -" He stepped towards me, almost like he wanted to reach out, but I stumbled backwards and he stopped dead in his tracks, staring wildly at something behind me.

For a moment, I was too taken aback to catch on, but I could hear the scuffle of trainers on the stone floor and then Katie slipped her hand into mine, squeezing it hard as she scowled at James. I glanced at her, then over my shoulder, and something in my chest pulled tight; Sam, Hector, and Tarquin had drawn their wands, pointing them straight at James.

"What is this nonsense?" The Fat Lady cried, loudly enough to rouse a few of the half-gone party victims that lined the corridor. "Have you lost your minds? And in my hallway. Put your wands away this instant!"

"What the fuck?" James made to come closer again, turning his gaze back to me, his frown shifting into something I couldn't quite decipher. "Seth," he said, almost pleadingly, but I shook my head.

I had had enough and this was not going to end well. The Fat Lady was still shouting bloody murder all over the hallway and it was only a matter of time until a teacher would find us. I had honestly lost count of exactly how many school rules we had already broken tonight, but losing House points had become the least of our problems.

"It's OK." I turned around to look at my friends and then reached for Sam's sleeve with my free hand, tugging on the fabric until he dropped his wand-arm. "Let's just go."

He nodded slowly and then slid his arm around my shoulder, falling into step with Katie and me.

"Fucking leave her alone, Potter." I heard Hector say behind me and then he and Tarquin had closed up behind us, blocking me from view like they wanted to make sure James wouldn't follow us. But he didn't, and I didn't turn around anymore as we began to climb down the winding steps of Gryffindor Tower together, the shouts of the Fat Lady still echoing down the hall.

No one spoke for a while and it was oddly comforting. The sounds of the sleeping castle were slow and soothing, like the faint creaking of metal as we passed by the suits of armour and the snoring of dozens of paintings whose inhabitants had dozed off. There were occasional moonlight passages, dipped in silver and pale greys that felt like we were trapped in a black-and-white picture, and then there were stretches of complete darkness where Sam stumbled over his own feet and Katie squeezed my hand a little tighter.

I could feel my body again by the time we had reached the broad landing of Winniefred the Willful, who was half in shadow and half illuminated by moonlight. The white marble seemed to glow where the light brushed it and my eyes settled on the small box in her left hand; the box that allegedly contained a piece of Godric Gryffindor's heart.

Probably, he had been a fuckboy, too.

I let out a snort of laughter at the thought and my friends all turned to look at me like they weren't sure if I was having a mental breakdown.

"Seth." Katie's voice was too soft, too careful, and I wanted to tell her that I was alright, but my throat had closed off and my laughter turned choppy.

I hadn't even realised that I was crying - sobbing, convulsively - but before I could do anything to stop it, I was engulfed in a crushing group hug.

"You are idiots! All of you! I mean it." I blubbered against someone's sweatshirt - probably Hector's - leaving a glistening snot spot right next to the stitched logo on his chest. "What if someone tells a teacher?"

"Who? The passed out drunks that were sitting in their own sick?" Tarquin asked and a horribly wet laugh pushed its way up my throat between the violent sobs.

I would have to tell them what happened - all of it; how stupid I had been to fall for James Potter even though I should have known better. How I had been dumb enough to believe that he felt something too.

But, for now - just for a brief moment - I didn't have to say anything. I could just stand here, my nose pressed against Sam's shoulder, breathing in his herbal aftershave as Katie's hair tickled my cheek, with Winniefred the Willful watching in silence.

A/N: I know, but hear me out! So, I expect some of you will be a little upset with me for this little nugget of a twist and I am profoundly sorry. But this has been in the making for literal ages and there was no way to avoid this. There is a James POV on what happened after he went with Freddie to check on Genie which I will post in due time on my tumblr. I still hope you guys enjoyed the chapter and, honestly, your reviews are life… long, short, good, bad, weird, I take them all. Knowing that people are still reading this is honestly what keeps me writing.

A massive thank you to those who comment on this site and on my tumblr. Fanfiction won't let me write an answer to most of your reviews but just know that I read them all, multiple times, and you don't even know how much it means to me that you wonderful strangers take the time to share your thoughts with me.

All the best,

NH Stadler