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45

BETWEEN COURAGE AND CHAOS

MUSICAL MOOD:

TAYLOR SWIFT - MAROON

"There's no cure, Woodley."

I brushed my thumb against the frayed stitching on the tag. It wasn't anything neat and the red thread had come loose around the H, like someone had picked at it repeatedly until the fibres had snapped.

H. J. Potter.

I traced the name again, feeling each rough letter against my skin.

He hadn't lied about the sweatshirt not being his, at least.

I didn't know what time it was - for how long I had been sitting in the dark, staring at the faded lionhead underneath the burgundy lettering - but I didn't care. Tonight didn't feel real. None of it. I had tried to wrap my mind around it; around Genie's poisoning, and Athena's confession, and McGonagall's warning, and -

And James.

But I just couldn't. I couldn't make sense of it all - not as a whole. My thoughts felt like these jagged, unshapely things that didn't fit, no matter how much I twisted and turned them, all of them pieces of different puzzles.

The bed-curtains suddenly parted and I recognised Katie's shape pushing through the gap, her knee knocking against my hip bone as she climbed into my bed. "Why didn't you wake me up? I was -" She stopped abruptly, her mouth still open as she looked at me, eyebrows lowering with the frown that creased her forehead before she let the curtains fall close behind her. "You're crying. What happened?"

I automatically touched my fingers to my cheek, a little surprised that they came away wet. I hadn't even noticed that I had been crying which wasn't a comforting thought.

"I think Albus Potter was drugged with a love potion. Maybe more than one."

"That's… horrible." Katie pulled her legs underneath her, her eyebrows drawing together. "Is - um - Is that why you're crying?"

"No. I just -" I wiped at my eyes again, probably smudging the little mascara that was left after this absolutely shitty evening, "I'm just trying to understand this."

"Oh-kay?" Katie was still frowning because I was barely making sense, but I needed to say it out loud to help my thoughts settle - to stop thinking about James.

"I always thought Albus's sudden interest in me was a little odd -"

At that, my best friend rolled her eyes and the exasperated look on her face almost made me giggle. "It wasn't odd. You're gorgeous and you know it."

"OK, but hear me out," I said, pulling myself up a little to relieve the knot of tension between my shoulderblades. I had thought about this; the hug in the Three Broomsticks when I had run into Albus on my birthday, the strange shine in his eyes that I had thought was alcohol-induced. Something just didn't feel quite right about it. "It just seemed very out of the blue and then, suddenly, he was practically obsessed with Laura Valenti."

"Oooh." Katie's eyes grew wide with the promise of scandal. "Do you think she drugged him? That little -"

"No, that's the thing." I shook my head, remembering how it all had seemed so normal at first. "I'm not sure she knew."

"OK, I'm lost."

"Me too." I rubbed my throbbing temples as my thought process hit another dead-end. Still, anything was better than having to think about James Potter.

"Wait." Katie's gaze had dropped to my lap and her eyes narrowed. "Is this a Gryffindor sweatshirt?" She tugged at the grey cloth and her eyebrows shot up towards her hairline. "Whose Gryffindor sweatshirt is this?"

I sighed and let my head fall against the backrest, my mind flitting back to the hallway and the floating ghosts and the look on James's face. "It's, um, James's."

Katie's mouth opened, then closed. "What?"

"I mean, technically, it's his dad's, I think?" I said, smoothing out the front of the sweatshirt so that the lion and the House logo were spread out between us. The design clearly wasn't a recent one and the neckband was worn thin with small tears along the fabric. I couldn't believe the idiot had given me his dad's sweatshirt. Did he have any idea how much this dumb piece of cloth was worth?

"OK, you need to fill me in here." Katie readjusted her position, her legs now outstretched and poking me in the ribs. "Like, slowly… I'm still not fully awake."

"Do we have an emergency strategy?" Tarquin said it casually, like we were talking about the weather or the summer holidays and I couldn't believe that this had become my life; talking about illegal potion transactions while waiting to hear from my anonymous blackmailers that had already permanently wiped one of my friends' memories. "Like, some sort of warning signal if anything goes wrong during the - um - you-know-what?"

A group of people passed us by in the hallway - green ties and a few blue ones in the mix - and I glanced up to catch the looks on their faces when they saw me. With my supposed attempt at seducing James and then the entire Genie-thing, my dubious popularity had hit its all-time peak, it seemed. It was exhausting to be constantly noticed and I couldn't see how people actually wanted this - the stares and snickers and appraising looks.

"Hector can do a Patronus," Sam said casually and I snapped my head up to look at him, then at Hector.

"You can?" I asked into the stunned silence, barely able to conceal my surprise as I remembered the slime-chugging contest from just a few months ago. If I recalled the whole thing correctly, Hector had won and then thrown up all over our common room.

"Yeah, you judgmental dipshits," he said, his dark eyebrows drawn together as he looked at each of us in turn. "I'm in Ravenclaw, too."

"What is it?" Katie asked, her grin a little too wide and I felt a reckless giddiness as she said, "a horse?"

"No, Hector's not a horse guy." I turned around to face him as I continued walking, unable to not smile stupidly at this point. I hadn't felt this light and unbothered in a while and, even though it was just a brief moment, it was really nice. "It's probably something tiny and cute, like a field mouse."

"Or a worm," Tarquin pitched in, which had everybody snorting with laughter.

Even more so, when Hector shouted, "a worm? Are you fucking serious?".

"Wait!" Katie practically cried out, drawing still more looks our way. "What IF your patronus is a worm?"

"Why the fuck am I hanging out with you lot?" Hector shook his head, but the corner of his mouth was twitching as Sam leaned into him and Tarquin clapped his shoulder, and he stoically bore our teasing all the way down the semi open corridor.

"Hey." I felt Katie's hand on my arm all of a sudden, tugging me back a little, and I knew that they were there - that he was there. I didn't even want to look. The weather was nice today, almost balmy, so, naturally, the stone benches that were grouped around a small, overgrown fountain in the middle of the courtyard would be occupied by the seventh-years.

Not all of them, of course, but I knew that the seventh-year I was looking for would be there.

I let myself fall back a little as my friends continued to discuss the world's worst Patronuses, their voices ringing out over the general lunch break racket, and I felt my heartbeat scatter when I glanced at the group that was sprawled over the low benches. It was an unwritten rule that the sunny spot in the porticoed courtyard close to the Great Hall was reserved for the seventh-years and traditions were nothing if not venerated at Hogwarts.

I knew all of them, of course. These were the people everybody knew; the people you would automatically think about when you remembered your school time even though you had never been a part of theirs. Augustus Cotton was taking up an entire bench, his head hanging over the edge so that his blond hair almost touched the ground as Benji Thomas was trying to toss grapes into his open mouth, but my eyes immediately drifted to James. He was straddling a half-crumbling stone bench, one leg drawn up underneath him and, across from him, her shiny brown hair tumbling down her back in loose curls, was Athena.

For a second, I couldn't breathe. Something tight and prickly was winding itself around my heart, but I couldn't look away. Maybe I needed to see this; the way James looked up at her, unsmiling but distinctly softly, his dark eyebrows lightly furrowed as the crisp breeze tousled his hair. They were close - closer than necessary - and, even though they weren't touching, their body language was enough to make my stomach turn.

"They're just friends," a low voice said behind me and I bit my lip, wishing that I hadn't been caught staring at James Potter once again.

Freddie had come up next to me, his hands in the pockets of his uniform trousers as he squinted at his friends in the courtyard. "Athena's upset because of Genie. That's all."

It wasn't all - not by any means - and I wondered how much Freddie really knew; how much James knew. If he knew about all the ugly things Athena had done and simply didn't care. They were still in deep conversation. Athena's head was moving softly while James watched her, absently picking at the shoelace of his trainer, and the spiky snares noosed even tighter around my heart. I couldn't watch this any longer. I shouldn't.

"I have to -"

"No, wait!" Freddie grabbed my arm, accidentally knocking his backpack into a group of tiny first years. "It's James's birthday on Wednesday," he said and then lowered his voice as a few eager heads perked up around us, "we're sneaking him out for drinks at the Three Broomsticks, seven o'clock. He has no idea."

He was grinning, obviously rather happy with himself, and I raised my eyebrows at him.

"OK, Freddie, I'm a prefect. You really shouldn't tell me this."

He blinked at me like he didn't see how that would be a problem. "But, you're coming, right?"

I exhaled slowly, my gaze shifting to the courtyard again before I could catch myself, just in time to see Athena reaching out to touch James's arm. Her hand was lingering close to his, like she was hoping he would take it, and I quickly looked away again.

"Listen." Freddie sighed. "I don't know what exactly happened last weekend, but I really think you two should talk."

"I don't -" I pressed my lips together before I could say it - before I would give anything away. Because the truth was that I thought about it constantly; the cold hallway and the ghosts and the sweatshirt I had been carrying around in my backpack all day. I thought about all the things James had said to me: that he thought I was using him, that he knew I wasn't in love with him.

He thought I wasn't in love with him.

"Look." I shook my head, ignoring the way my heartbeat suddenly picked up and then stumbled behind my chest. "Even if I wanted to come, I really can't. I have Potions club and a ton of homework, and -"

"Ditch it and come play with us." Freddie gave me a grin that was wicked enough to knock off five points from Gryffindor by itself.

He made it sound so easy. Like none of this was complicated and awkward and absolutely gut-wrenching. Like I couldn't see James and Athena from the corner of my eye; how her hand grabbed his forearm where he had rolled up the sleeve of his uniform shirt like she wasn't ever going to let him go.

"I'll think about it," I lied because I knew Freddie wasn't going to give up and then reached around for my backpack to get out the Gryffindor sweatshirt. "Here." I held the folded piece of clothing out to him, willing him to just take it, but he only frowned - first at the sweater, then at me.

"Um, that's not mine."

"I know."

"It's -"

"I know." I sighed and pushed the sweatshirt towards him again. Of course he would know that it was James's. Bloody everybody probably knew.

"Why do you have -"

"Long story. Please, Freddie, just take it?" I sounded pathetic, but I needed to be rid of it - because it still smelled like him and I desperately wanted to keep it.

I practically shoved the sweatshirt into Freddie's chest and he finally took it, still looking mildly perplexed. I could tell he wanted to say something, ask about what had happened, but there was movement in the courtyard and we both turned to find James looking at us.

At me.

I could feel my heartbeat in my throat - short, panicked pulses that made me lightheaded - and I didn't know if I wanted to run from or to him anymore. But so much had happened, and he had just been talking to the girl who had humiliated me in front of everybody; the girl who was still clutching his arm like it belonged to her, even as he got up from the bench, and it was just too painful to watch.

As I turned away, I thought that he had been right about one thing, at least; I kept running away from him. But what did he expect me to do when I was so unsure of everything - of him, most of all.

I kept waiting for a message but there was nothing.

Monday came and went and so did Tuesday, but there were no obscure toilet assaults, no instructions, no threats, nothing.

The Fauxlantis was ready and I was in limbo, unsure what to do with it. The uncertainty of it all was weighing heavy on my shoulders, twisting into knots of anxiety that woke me up at night, and I had decided that, if I didn't hear from the blackmailers by the end of the week, I would go to McGonagall and turn myself in.

After stupidly involving all of my friends in this risky, half-baked plan, it was my responsibility to protect them, even though I knew what that meant; what I would lose.

I let my bag drop to the floor before leaning against the stone sink to glance at my reflection. At least I didn't look like I was losing sleep; no dark circles, no puffy eyes. There was even a smudge of healthy pink in my cheeks and my freckles had become more pronounced, spilling over the bridge of my nose. They were the unfailable harbinger of summer; of long, hot nights spent sprawled across old blankets in Katie's garden, pointing out constellations and making very shoddy predictions about the future.

I turned on the tap which was shaped like a coiling snake spewing water from its mouth and held my hands under the cold stream. Two girls had come to the carved sink, standing next to me, and I caught them looking at me in the mirror; the sort of slow, measured looks that lingered too long to be anywhere near casual. I caught the older girl's eye and held her gaze long enough for her to blush and turn away. It felt like a small win; to not cower and duck and hide, even though that was exactly what I wanted to do.

I picked up my backpack from the floor just as the door swung open a little too forcefully, hitting the stone wall with a bang that made the girls behind me jump. For a second, I almost expected some faceless figure to push me against the wall and my fingers twitched with the reflex to grab my wand but then I recognised her: Genie Patil looked as glamorous as ever, if maybe a little more pallid than usual.

"Shoo," she said in an almost bored voice, her dark eyes narrowed at the two girls. When they only stared back at her like startled deer, she tilted her head and sighed. "That means fuck off."

They scurried out of the room, looking properly panicked, but Genie barely paid them any attention.

"I thought I saw you come in here." She had walked up to the sink and leaned her hip against the stone, arms crossed in front of her as she looked me up and down, slowly and unabashedly. It was strange and uncomfortable and I thought that maybe I should have reached for my wand after all.

It could be her.

It seemed possible for a second - plausible, even. But then I remembered the poisoning, her wheezing breaths, the spasms, and I forced myself to calm down again. This entire potion-thing hadn't exactly helped with my trust issues

"You saved my life. Twice now." She frowned slightly as she continued to size me up like I wasn't wearing the exact same regulation uniform as her and I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. It was one thing to stare down skittish fourth years; I had no chance against Genie Patil.

"I'm pretty sure the eyebrow potion wouldn't have killed you."

At that, Genie snorted and I watched her untie her arms, her head slightly tilted to the right as she regarded me for a long second. "I know you think I'm a bitch."

"I don't." I shook my head, not entirely sure what sort of conversation we were having - what she wanted from me.

"No, it's OK." She shrugged and then turned her head to look at her reflection, straightening the knot of the dark green tie around her neck. "I'm cultivating the image, really." She smoothed out the piece of cloth and then looked back at me, lips pursed and eyebrows drawn.

"James didn't say any of it," she said, suddenly, and I felt the familiar weight drop to my stomach, "most of all not like this. I swear. He was so messed up after New Year's. I've never seen him like this."

I was shaking my head as I struggled with the avalanche of messy thoughts that swirled in my head. "Look, I know you're trying to be nice, or whatever, but -"

"It was me," she cut me off, her voice sounding a little too loud, too rushed as it echoed from the arched ceiling - the verbal equivalent to ripping off a plaster. "I told Athena about what happened after the Ministry ball. I just wanted her to finally stop obsessing over James. She just wouldn't stop and -" She pressed her lips together, blinking a few times before looking up at me again. "Anyway, you know how that went, so…"

I bit my bottom lip as I held her gaze, not sure what to make of this - what to do with this muddled confession. Because that's what it was. Because I did know how it had gone and it changed everything. James hadn't told Athena and I was so relieved that he hadn't lied.

That it hadn't been her.

But I had just seen them together, hadn't I? Her hand on his arm, the soft expression on his face as he had looked at her.

"Did you tell James? I mean, any of it?"

"No." Genie shook her head. "He has no idea." She pushed away from the sink and tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear that had escaped the perfectly braided crown atop her head. "Thanks for not ratting Athena out."

"I should have." I frowned at her; because there were still so many things I didn't understand, most of all her motivation - why she would poison herself so that Athena couldn't - and it bothered me that I might never fully figure this out. "You should have."

"I know," she said, and her voice sounded brittle and strained, like she was actually holding back tears. "I will, I swear."

I sighed and let my backpack drop to the floor again before leaning against the sink next to Genie. We stood like this for a while, not talking, staring at the far end of the room where a row of toilet stalls lined the wall. Classes had started five minutes ago already and I tried to ignore the prickle of panic I felt at definitely being late to Charms. I needed answers more than I needed to be the perfect prefect for once.

"Why would Athena do something like this?" I asked into the silence, still staring at the intricately carved doors that seemed way too fancy for a dungeon bathroom. "I mean, not the Pustula or the toxic gossiping, I get that." I turned my head to look at Genie who was still scowling at the toilets. "But why would she take some obscure potion? Poison herself and then what? I mean, what was her plan? Did she even have one?"

Genie let out a long breath that sounded almost amused. "Haven't you noticed?" She looked back at me then, curiously, and a small smile curved her mouth. "James has a massive saving-people-thing. He's the Gryffindor poster-boy for reckless altruism. Freddie says he gets it from his dad." Her smile faded as she shook her head - slowly, like she was bracing herself. "Circe knows he's been there to pick me up a thousand times already, which makes what I did all the more fucked up. I'm a shit friend."

I watched her fumble with her tie again, thinking about how James had waited at the edge of the Forbidden Forest for me when we had barely known each other; about the butchered potion transaction he had salvaged, about how he had recklessly barged into McGonagall's office and told her that he asked me to brew it for him in the first place, about all the other times he had been there.

'I saved your arse this year. Multiple times.'

I almost had to laugh as I remembered it - how we had been standing in the snow on the dark grounds, shouting at each other like stubborn idiots.

Athena had wanted exactly that; for James to save her, because she knew he would. To feel like he cared.

Because he always cared - so much - and I couldn't believe that it had taken me so long to realise it.

"We're taking James out tonight. For his birthday." Genie had turned around and leaned over the sink to get closer to the mirror, examining her flawless winged eyeliner. "You should come."

I took a deep breath as my heart leapt over a few invisible hurdles; because when I hadn't been panicking over the Fauxlantis, I had been thinking about this - about James. Mostly at night, when I had been tracing patterns across the canopy of my bed, imagining all the things I didn't dare say out loud.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea."

I really didn't. Besides the fact that I was already in enough trouble without illegally sneaking down to Hogsmeade on a school night, I also hadn't seen James since I had so obviously run away from him on Monday and I was mortified.

"It is." Genie had gotten out a small notebook from her bag and scribbled something into the corner of a page before tearing it off and holding it out to me. "Wear something cute." She winked at me, like we were sharing some sort of inside joke, and then she hoisted her bag onto her shoulder and left the bathroom, leaving me to stare at the piece of paper in my hand.

6:30, Hagrid's hut.

I frowned at the thin jumper I had laid out on my bed, studying the dusty-pink colour against the dark blue of my blanket. It was snug and off-shoulder and it looked really good with my favourite pair of jeans. But my eyes drifted to the stack of books on my nightstand and then, finally, to the small golden prefect pin next to it.

It was almost nine o'clock, close to curfew, and I was slowly losing my mind.

"Kat." I turned to look at my best friend a little pleadingly, fully aware of how whiney I sounded. "What if I get caught?"

"You won't." She rolled her eyes because we'd been through this. Multiple times. "You're way too smart for that. Besides, people sneak down to Hogsmeade all the time and never get caught."

I frowned at her. "They do?" I hadn't ever heard of anybody sneaking anywhere past curfew, but my existence at Hogwarts had also been exceptionally sheltered until this year.

"What if he doesn't -" I bit my bottom lip, feeling the heat crawl up my neck, goaded by my thrashing heart. "I mean, what if -"

"He does." Katie had crossed the narrow space between our beds, one hand clasping my shoulder the other tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as she smiled at me. "He definitely does."

I wasn't nearly as sure about this as her. Despite the kissing, and the hand-holding, and the things I thought he might have said, this thing we were doing was nothing definite. I wasn't even sure if it was a thing at all; if we could be a thing- if he wanted to be. Because, after all, everybody knew that James Potter didn't 'do' girlfriends, right? And people didn't change - wasn't that what they all said?

"Babes." Katie took my hands in hers and I admired her patience. I was planning on outmanoeuvring a potentially dangerous potions cartel in my freetime but I almost had to throw up at the thought of telling a boy that I liked him. "This is it," she said and squeezed my hands. "If you want this - if you want James - you have to go for it. Now. Before Athena goes off the deep end and finally slips him that love potion."

"That's not funny, Kat." I thought about Albus's glazed eyes and McGonagall's warning and the look on James's face, and a sinister shiver chased down my spine.

"I agree," Katie said and picked up the jumper from my bed to hold it out to me just as a dull clinking sound came from my nightstand and something rolled over the edge, clattering to the floor. "What the hell was that?"

I bent down and picked up the stoppered glass vial that I had been keeping next to my bed, examining the small leaf that was encased inside. The lovenettle hadn't even so much as twitched since the separation a few days ago and I had wondered if it was ever going to miss its other half at all. "Did it move?"

"I don't know." Katie shrugged, still clutching my jumper as she frowned at the lovenettle. "It's not moving now."

It wasn't. In fact, it looked alarmingly dead - slightly limp and with shrivelled edges. If this didn't work, everything would have been for nothing which would be a disaster of epic proportions.

"I'll take it with me." I shook the lovenettle out of the vial into my palm where it looked even deader, if that was possible. "Just in case."

"HOLY CIRCE AND MORGANA!" Katie squealed, just as the door swung open and a mud-splattered Bernice came in, her hair matted to her face. "You're going! Bernice, she's going!"

"Um, OK?" Bernice frowned at us like she sometimes did - a sort of confused, uncomprehending look that was probably well deserved - but she never said anything. When we were younger, I used to think that it was because she didn't care, but that wasn't true. She just didn't judge.

"I am so proud of you." Katie pulled me in for a bone-crushing hug that was wholly over the top and I shot Bernice a sorry-for-being-weird-again look over her shoulder. "Trust me, you won't regret this."

I felt the lovenettle twitch the moment I stepped onto the landing, like a magnet, struggling against the confines of my jeans pocket. The pull was gentle, more like a nudge, but it was definitely there, all the way down to the Entrance Hall, and I knew that, if I let it, it would lead me to Greenhouse One - to its other half.

Four days. I made a mental note of telling Tarquin first thing in the morning. Or, maybe, I should tell him right now. I could branch off towards the dungeons easily and see if he was still up. It wasn't late, after all, and we could figure out the best day to add the lovenettle to the potion.

I had stopped, my hand loosely wrapped around the little ornamental dragon knob at the end of the bannister, trying to get my heart to settle down for just a second so that I could think. What was I even doing? What if I was entirely misinterpreting the situation? I was potentially risking 30 House points for a boy who might have vaguely hinted at maybe liking me.

I had dramatically run after James once before and it hadn't ended too well.

I lingered for another second - a minute - softly tapping my index finger against the wood as I glanced back over my shoulder, then towards the corridor that led down to the kitchens before it branched off to Hufflepuff. The doors to the grounds were still open, letting in a waft of crisp air, but the castle had cleared in anticipation of curfew. I had little more than twelve to fifteen minutes until Brogan Roberts would pass by the Entrance Hall. Twelve to fifteen minutes to make up my mind about this, which wasn't nearly enough.

This was frightening, maybe even more so than pretend-brewing illegal potions in abandoned glasshouses. Because, what if James didn't like me after all?

What if he did?

I clenched my hand around the dragon carving, its spiky ridge digging into my palm as I replayed Katie's words in my head. Maybe it really was now or never.

My head buzzed and my legs tingled and, before I had even consciously made the decision, the soles of my trainers were scuffing against the mosaicked school crest on the floor as I almost ran across the Entrance Hall. It wasn't the stealthiest manoeuvre, but I needed to leave before I could change my mind again.

I had reached the towering doors, fully intending to slip out onto the dusky grounds that waited beyond - the yellow gorse glowing in the fading light - when, suddenly, a dark shape barrelled into the Entrance Hall - into me - and I let out a small cry.

I was stumbling backwards, tripping over my own feet as two hands clasped my arms; not to steady me, but clearly struggling to regain some sort of balance of their own.

"James?" I hissed, incredulously, loosening a shaky breath as I recognised him.

"Woodley?" His scratchy voice echoed from the ceiling, much too loudly, and I caught a whiff of beer and something distinctly herbal; minty. He was blinking at me, like someone who had just woken up and wasn't entirely sure if they were still dreaming; like, maybe, I was just a figment of his intoxicated brain.

"What are you doing here?" I whispered, struggling to not lose my balance as he continued to lean into me. His hands had dropped from my arms to circle my waist as though we were in the middle of some absurd dance, trying to find our rhythm. "Where are Freddie and the others?"

"I don't know." The edges of his words were too soft and I pushed my hands against his chest in an attempt at steadying him before he would take us both down to the ground. The fabric of his sweatshirt felt cold and wet and his hair was damp as well, falling into his face where he had a bloody scratch above his right eyebrow.

"Are you OK?" Even in the dim light I could see his dilated pupils, the somewhat glazed expression, and I felt a definite prickle of panic behind my chest. I couldn't leave him here like this; but being caught with a blind-drunk James Potter past curfew also wasn't something I wanted to add to my already less than shining Hogwarts legacy.

"Sure." He closed his eyes and then leaned against the wall behind him, sounding thoroughly exhausted. "I'm spendig. Splendid." He tripped over his own words, his tongue struggling to shape the sounds. Clearly, he wasn't going to make it back to Gryffindor on his own.

"You don't look it." I didn't really think when I reached up to brush at the strand of hair that covered the cut above his eyebrow. It wasn't deep, probably a scratch from a low-hanging branch he had run into on his way back up to the castle, but he winced and my heart stumbled as I dropped my hand.

"It hurts." His voice was low and slurred and it suddenly felt too intimate to see him like this; indecent almost - to be this close to him when he clearly wasn't in full control of himself anymore. There was a slight pucker between his eyebrows and I shook my head to curb the intensity of his gaze but failed miserably.

"We - we have to get out of here," I said, moving a hand up to his shoulder to steady him, but I stood no chance when he pushed himself off the wall, his weight pressing against me as we tumbled a few steps backwards. We had five minutes, maybe six until Brogan or, worse, a teacher would pass by the Entrance Hall and find us like this. "It's almost past curfew."

But James didn't seem to hear me. All he did was look at me - intently - his too dark eyes flitting across my face like they didn't know what parts to focus on; like they tried to take it in all at once. "I - I can't stop thinking about you." His gravelly voice was barely more than a whisper and before I could get my thoughts in order, he had brought his hand up to my face and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, letting his fingers trail down my neck. "I'm always thinking about you, Woodley."

My heart spasmed and my stomach clenched and I might have stopped breathing for a moment as the words sank in. Because, even though he was drunk, he sounded so sincere. It felt like a confession; like all the things that I thought I'd glimpsed between the lines and looks and kisses but never heard him say.

The things I needed to hear so desperately to be sure.

I only vaguely registered the lovenettle in my pocket move again, writhing like a tiny snake, pulling towards the doors where the light had faded entirely by now. All I could focus on was the weight of James's hands on my hips, his wild heartbeat against my chest, his mouth that was almost close enough to kiss; close enough to smell the mint on his breath.

The plant jerked again, more violently this time, and then, suddenly, in a flash of scalding hot panic, realisation hit me like a vicious stunning spell: the dilated pupils, the way he was talking, how he was looking at me, the strange, minty scent.

He wasn't drunk.

"James, look at me." I had reached up and grabbed his jaw, partially to keep him from kissing me; mostly to make him tip back his head so that I could get a better look at the expression on his face. But he only pressed closer, nuzzling his nose against my ear.

"Potter!" Panic seeped into my voice as I pushed him away from me, still clenching his chin in an attempt at getting him to stay still enough to assess the extent of the damage.

"Seth," he muttered softly, like it was meant as a caress, and it hurt all the more for it. This wasn't real - maybe it hadn't ever been - but it didn't really matter anymore, did it? James had been slipped a love potion - one that was somehow tethered to me - and whatever tentative thing there might have been between us before was tainted now, stained and contaminated with the awful compulsion to love that would always leave a sour taste.

It actually was a brilliant plan. I had to give Athena that.

"It's alright. It'll be alright." I muttered the words to myself like a weird mantra while I was running through the limited options in my head. This had just become infinitely worse than it had already been. James clearly was not in his right mind and, even though I didn't know if I could help him, I had to at least try.

I wasn't sure how we made it all the way to the dungeons without being discovered; especially since James drunkenly stumbled along as I led him down the hallway to the Potions classroom. He didn't resist, though, which I fully attributed to the love potion, and I felt a definite surge of relief as the door clicked open with a basic Alohomora spell.

Honestly, I would have expected Slughorn to put more energy into locking the Potions classroom after everything that had happened this year.

"Woodley, wait," James said in a low, throaty voice that didn't make this at all better and I forced myself to not turn around. I couldn't look at him like this, when I knew he wasn't himself - that whatever he thought he was feeling wasn't real - but he tugged on my wrist and spun me around into his arms. "I need to - I have to tell you something."

"That you're sloshed? I know that, Potter." I tried to sound nonchalant rather than terrified, to make all of this less painful, but my voice came out strange and wrong as it pushed past the lump in my throat.

James snorted and shook his head and my eyes caught on the dimple in his right cheek. It wasn't fair that he could still do this to me - that his smile was enough to make my knees go weak and my heart flutter, especially when it wasn't real.

"No, Seth, I - I know you think I'm a drunk idiot, but I swear I mean it."

His words were soft and slurred but they pierced my chest like shrapnel.

"It's alright," I said as I tried to disentangle myself from him, my eyes searching the open shelf behind him for useful ingredients. Burned rose petals could work, thorn ashes and a pinch of salt, but it might have been too unspecific to counteract whatever he had ingested. Love potions were ten a penny and a generalised antidote might not have been enough to undo the enchantment.

Still, this really was my best option.

"I can cure this." I was talking more to myself than to James, still pushing away from him, but he just shook his head.

"There's no cure, Woodley." He loosened a sharp breath, his hand sliding to my waist. "Shit," he whispered and my stomach was in tangles as his thumb brushed along my cheek, sluggishly and a little clumsy.

I was shaking my head, desperately trying to find the words to make him stop, but it was already too late.

"I'm in love with you."

"No." I closed my eyes, because I couldn't do this. I couldn't look at him; hear him say these things. Not when I knew they were nothing but the product of magic. "Please stop."

"I've tried," he whispered and I felt his breath on my cheek, laced with alcohol and mint - no, with lovenettle. "Trust me."

There was an irresponsible, weak second in which I actually let myself imagine it; how his lips would touch mine, fingers entangled in my hair, how good it would feel to give in to this - to him - even if it wasn't real. I could live in this fantasy for a moment, couldn't I? I could be the girl that James Potter was hopelessly in love with. I could pretend that I wasn't just another smitten idiot who had fallen for the Gryffindor golden boy, that he actually wanted me.

But I couldn't, of course.

"You should - you should sit down…" My voice was brittle and weird and I knew I was about to cry as I twisted myself out of James's arms, nudging him gently towards the dilapidated couch in the corner. "I need to finish this - um - project. For Potions club. It'll only take a minute."

He frowned at me like he knew I was lying and I felt my heart clench at the thought of how much worse this would be after he had taken the antidote. For him. For me. I had never seen it, what it looked like when love faded, but I imagined it to be horrible.

Almost as horrible as having the boy you liked tell you that he was in love with you when you knew he wasn't.

James had collapsed onto the couch, but I could feel his eyes on me as I went through the neatly labelled jars and boxes and bottles on Slughorn's shelf. I was going by sheer gut feeling rather than logic as I poured the ingredients into a small glass vial, praying to Circe and Morgana that this would work. Ideally, my make-shift antidote would have to settle for an hour, but I didn't have that luxury. Half a minute of violent shaking would have to do.

"Alright, Potter," I said when the substance had turned a murky grey shade that looked like it could squelch even the smallest romantic notion and sat down next to him, the vial clutched in my clammy hand. But I hadn't thought this through and his arms wrapped around my waist almost immediately, pulling me into him.

Onto his lap.

I couldn't move for a moment. I could barely breathe. His gaze was heavy-lidded, his eyes almost black with only a thin rim of golden amber that glowed in the candle light, and his heart pulsed against my palm as he tilted his head back to look up at me.

I could feel his hands slide to the small of my back, underneath my jumper, gently, almost reverently, and then he was kissing my collarbone, the hollow above it, my shoulder.

"You're so beautiful." He murmured the words into my neck, his lips sliding against my skin as he slowly dragged them all the way up to my jaw. But I pulled back before he could kiss me again; before this could get even worse.

There was a flash of hurt in his eyes and I felt it reverberate behind my chest - little pinpricks of awfulness.

"You're going to break my heart, Woodley, aren't you?" He asked quietly and his voice cracked.

I closed my eyes, feeling tears pricking my eyelids. For a moment - a brief, terrifying, glorious moment - I might have thought that I could. But it had all been a lie; nothing but an unfortunate tangle of games and magic. James Potter's heart wasn't mine to break.

I never had that power.

But I could break the spell.

"Here, drink this." I held the vial out to him, trying to sound reassuring and not like every second of this was wrecking my miserable heart. "It'll make you feel better. I promise."

"I doubt that." His words slurred together and he let out a quiet, mangled snort as he let his head drop back to the upholstered backrest, his damp hair looking almost black as it spilled against the mustard yellow velvet. In the weak light, with his eyelids half-closed, I couldn't see the potion-induced vagueness in his gaze. He just looked at me, unabashedly, like I was the only thing worth looking at, and I wished that it was real.

"Cheers." James tipped the vial back, not even asking what it was; the idiot. I could have given him poison to drink and he would have downed it like a shot of Tequila. Someone had done a thorough job with this love potion.

I forced myself to watch him; to watch for a change in his eyes as the antidote flooded his bloodstream until his eyebrows pulled into a soft frown.

"See?" I climbed out of his lap a little awkwardly, feeling his arm go slack around my waist. "I told you you'd feel better."

"I don't." He still sounded drowsy, sluggish, and his eyelids drooped. The potion might have been wearing off, but he was still drunk and the alcohol in his blood probably cushioned the blow, masking the bitter, hollow feeling that trailed after the intense sensations of a love spell. He didn't feel it now - the sour taste that lingered even after the potion was out of your system - but he would in the morning.

The hangover was going to be brutal.

A/N: This update was quicker than expected and it is all because of you wonderful people who read this thing and share your thoughts and feelings with me. I know I say this a lot, but reading your reviews is endlessly motivating and truly the reason this story still exists. I've learned so much from all of you and you have shaped my writing irrevocably, inspiring me to improve and become a better writer.

So, thank you. This update is just for you :)