James loved loudly.

When he loved, it was never silent. Whether through words or actions, he loved so loudly—so obviously—that it was hard for others to deny nor unsee his acts of love. He was never the type to hide what he truly felt, whether it was joy, anger, and sadness. It was the same when he loved someone. From singing every cheesy love song in the middle of the corridor, raining flower petals in the Great Hall, and presenting an engagement ring every other Sunday in the hopes that the recipient would say yes, James had done it all and some.

It never occurred to him how embarrassing some of his actions were. It never simply crossed his mind because he believed that expressing what he truly felt was never shameful. It was in the way he would snuggle into Sirius' arm whenever he felt sleepy, or when he would throw an arm over Peter's shoulders to mess his hair, or when he would jump onto Remus' back for a piggyback ride. It was also in the way he would sneer and confront his enemies, particularly Snape, never backing down whenever he perceived that the ones he loved were insulted or threatened.

James grew up in love. It was no wonder why he would act the way he did because he had been showered with so much love that there was plenty for him to give away.

So when he fell in love with Lily Evens, he threw so much love to her that he hadn't realized that he no longer had any love for himself in the end.

A boy with an abundance of love had not realized that he had taken it for granted, so when there was none left, James felt himself adrift in a vicious cycle of the highs and lows of unrequited love.

That was the reason why he found himself wandering around the castle hours after curfew, the map and Invisibility Cloak helping him evade authority figures. As his legs carried him to whatever destination ahead of him, James couldn't help but obsess over the events that happened earlier that day.

It had been a normal day, of course. The sun was shining brightly in particular, making him think that it there would be a good day ahead of them. When he saw Lily at the Gryffindor table first thing in the morning, he thought that it was going to be his lucky day. It wasn't often that they would bump into each other so early in the morning, so it must've been fate that had allowed them to see each other.

So, James fixed his hair—so that it wasn't messier than usual—puffed his chest and approached Lily in confident strides, glasses glinting atop his nose and his grin gleaming with muted mischief.

"Morning, Evans," James said loudly with a cock of his head, hopping onto the bench to sit at the table, legs spread together to bump onto her shoulder. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and ignored the blatant disgust across her face as he said, "Have I told you today how pretty you look in the morning? As if I need any more reason to fall in love with you."

Lily clenched her jaw, refusing to meet his eyes, determined to ignore him as she slid further away from his legs. James didn't particularly care, used to it as he was, so he continued talking.

"So, I heard that there's going to be a new tea house at Hogsmeade. Wanna go out with me to see it this weekend? I'll guarantee to give you a good time." James grinned wider, showing his glinting canines, to which Lily ignored again. Again, he ignored her ignoring him. "I already have the day planned, to be honest. We'll go to that tea house and then afterwards we'll go to that bookstore you want to visit since ages ago, then we'll go to Madam Rosmerta's for drinks, then we'll walk around Hogsmeade, then maybe we'll kiss and then we'd get married and then—"

"Oh, for god's sake!" Lily suddenly snapped, effectively shutting him up.

She sharply turned to give him steely-eyed stare, green eyes as deadly as the killing curse. James knew that whatever would come out of her mouth would be devastating, and couldn't help but brace himself, his body tense and his shoulders raised to his ears, as if hiding his head to protect himself from her deadly tongue.

"Are you simply not tired of the amount of shit that comes out of your mouth?!" Lily seethed, nose flaring as the disgust across her face grew more pronounced. She stood up, hands clenched to her sides, glaring fiercely at him. "I just need one morning—just one!—before I get harassed by your arrogant, stupid ass! How many times do I have to hear you prattle on before you realize that I don't care?! I don't care about you or what you like or whatever idiocy you come up with. When will you get it in your head that I will never have feelings for you?! Seriously, just back off! Your so-called love is suffocating me!"

James paled.

Lily stormed out before he could utter a retort, leaving him on the Gryffindor table with his head hung low.

Suffocating—

Until now, many hours later since that morning, the word continued to taunt James' every step.

He hadn't realized that his love felt like that to Lily—that it was suffocating. He thought that if he tried hard enough, if he put more effort into wooing her, she would start to see that he was serious about her and his feelings for her. He thought that the more he tried, the more she could see that he was sincere about her. He thought that if he loved her harder and fiercer, it would be enough to cover the lack of love she had for him, until the day she'd return his love. So how come it became suffocating?

He stopped in the middle of the corridor, a frown tugging his lips downward, the darkness seemingly mirroring his emotions.

The sudden sound of footsteps broke him out of his daze.

He jerked his head and looked around, realizing that he was in the middle of the corridor where anyone could stumble into him. He immediately hurried to the side, near the wall, trying to find an alcove he could hide into, when he saw the person heading towards his direction and promptly froze.

The beam of the Lumos spell was a familiar sight, so did the witch holding it up with her wand. With curls reminiscent of a Devil's Snare and doe eyes that would be like a puppy's except for the sharpness it held, she was a sight that left a lasting impression wherever she went.

It was Hermione Granger.

As in, Hermione "if you think of even sabotaging my potion for a prank, I will castrate you" Granger. As in, Hermione "threatened to set a professor on fire (and actually did it)" Granger. As in, Hermione "three times Dueling Champion" Granger. As in, Hermione "stickler for rules unless provoked" Granger. As in, Hermione "forever alone because everyone else is an idiot" Granger.

All the blood drained from his face once he saw her. Getting caught by her was the last thing he needed right now. Because she would kill him. She would absolutely kill him, but not before toying and humiliating him to her heart's content, of course. Everyone knew that you'd rather be caught by a professor than be caught by one Hermione Granger. It didn't matter whether they were in the same house or not, because Granger didn't discriminate whatsoever.

So, James pressed himself closer to the wall, staying as still as he could, holding his breath as she came closer to his side, and praying he would stay unnoticed. While he was invisible to the eye, the sounds he make couldn't be hidden.

Her steps echoed louder, the light highlighting her expressionless face in an almost haunting image. She looked like a ghost as her robes fluttered over her ankles, the Gryffindor sigil on her left chest concealed by the tangled curls she called her hair.

Then she stopped.

She stopped right next to him.

The hairs at the back of his neck stood up and he willed himself not to make any sound to alert her of his presence.

But it seemed that the mighty Hermione Granger had a nose like a bloodhound because with one swipe in the air using her hand, she managed to grab his Invisibility Cloak and snatch it from his head without even looking at his direction.

He could only watch, dumbfounded, as she held the Invisibility Cloak in her grasp, looking at him with an unimpressed stare that threatened to shrivel his insides once the cloak revealed his state.

"Granger…" James uttered awkwardly, a sheepish smile plastered across his face. She remained expressionless, though she did raise one eyebrow that perfectly conveyed her judgment. He ignored it. "Fancy meeting you here, so late at night. What's up?"

Her eyes iced over, prompting James to shut his mouth.

There was a saying among them.

You could mess with anyone you wanted at Hogwarts, but messing with Hermione Granger would be the last thing you did as a human being.

Ever since she pointed her wand at Mulciber's crotch back in their First Year, threatening him under her breath with eyes that spoke of death, no one wanted to get into her bad side. Not even Sirius could, as carefree and rebellious as he was, and not even Slytherins despite knowing her status as a muggleborn.

James couldn't understand how she was so different from Lily. At least Lily made an effort to be friendly with other people. She loved magic as much as the next pureblood wizard in Hogwarts. She was as eager as the other muggleborns to learn magic, and she held the same enthusiasm to share it with other people, whether by study sessions or one-on-one practice. With Lily, you could see on her face how much she wanted magic and how much she was fascinated by it.

But not Hermione Granger, oh no.

From the very first day, she never interacted with people, as if they carried a plague she didn't want to catch. Granger was always quiet, but frankly, she didn't need to say a word to tell them that she hated them, because they could all see it on her face how much she did. She looked at everyone in contempt, though some professors were exempted (surprising, Dumbledore wasn't one of them). She did magic as if it was expected of her to do so, with no surprise nor fascination across her face—as if everything was just what she expected and anticipated.

For a muggleborn, Granger was such an anti-muggleborn.

Just like right now, Granger didn't need to say anything to James. Even with the dim Lumos light, he could see the distaste adorning her face as her gaze roamed all over his body. Not in a way a woman would examine a man, but rather how a Healer would examine a dead body.

James didn't know what to do. He was facing the so-called dragon of Hogwarts, the one even Dumbledore held a tiny bit of fear for.

"I didn't even realize that it's past curfew," James said despite knowing that it was a vain attempt. Still, it was better than nothing. "I'll return to the tower right away. Just, you know… maybe return my cloak to me?"

He flashed a boyish grin, awkwardness tinged at the tips, making her furrow her eyebrow, her eyes screaming her scorn for him. Other than Lily, only Granger looked at him like that. It rankled him a bit. Just a tiny bit.

Not saying a single word, Hermione turned on her heel and started walking. James blinked for a moment, before hurrying after her. He didn't have much of a choice since she still had the cloak with her.

He couldn't help but stare at her as he followed a few steps behind her back, the silence between them stifling. He was never one to be comfortable with silence, so his fingers fidgeted as he mused over what he could talk about without Granger biting his head off.

"Ah, have you finished the potion assignment that Slughorn gave to us?" James said, figuring that schoolwork wouldn't land him onto Granger's bad side, at least not this evening. "To be honest, I'm still having a hard time making those potions, especially the Draught of the Living Death and the Memory Potion. It's so difficult to even do, don't you think so?"

"No."

James was nearly startled to hear Granger's response, stumbling onto his feet, until he regained his balance and he seamlessly continued. "Really? You didn't find it difficult at all?"

She turned her head and looked at him over her shoulder, and he pursed his mouth when he saw the way she stared at him. Those doe eyes had narrowed, her eyebrows slanted, and her lips pursed.

Basically, Granger just looked at him like he was an idiot. He wanted to protest a bit but figured it wouldn't change her perception of him. Really, Granger had the talent to make you feel like you had not done enough in your life no matter how hard you tried with just one glance.

"Ah, right," James muttered sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Of course, you're the top student in our year. I forgot about that."

Granger wasn't only the top student in their year but from first year to sixth year, she held the title of the first rank, and he reckoned it would be that way when they would take the NEWTs next year. He even heard that her OWL scores had bested Dumbledore's, which was admittedly not entirely unexpected. It had been this way since they were in their first year. She wouldn't be the three times Dueling Champion otherwise.

It was part of the reason why she was chosen to be their year's Prefect as opposed to Lily, who was brilliant in her own right. Everyone held a tiny bit of respect and a healthy dose of fear for Granger, which made her a perfect prefect candidate. While Lily was more approachable and friendly, Granger's ability to freeze someone with just one look came in handy especially when handling the Slytherins.

It was kind of scary when he thought about it carefully.

"Shut up," she said, although it lacked the heat of a reprimand.

She didn't say anything else, but James got to gist of it. So, he pressed his lips together and obediently trailed after her, enduring the silence since it was better than the alternative of her potentially murdering him. He knew that Granger disliked talking to people, but he never figured that she was quiet. Now, he knew, and he didn't know what to do with this information now.

They got to the moving staircase, Granger stopping at the bottom to wait for the stairs to move back in place. James still didn't know where they were going, but he wasn't about to ask her of that especially if she hadn't considered it carefully. Who knew if he would give her ideas if he asked?

On a second thought, maybe she was silently luring him to Filch so they could hang him by the ears?

"Excuse me, Granger, you're not thinking of ways how to murder me, right?" James asked behind her, his voice a bit weak with the thought of what the capable Hermione Granger would do to him.

Once again, she glanced at him over her shoulder before turning ahead to stare at the moving staircase.

"Not yet," she said, and James nearly sighed in relief if she hadn't continued with, "But now that you've mentioned it, you're giving me ideas."

James sucked in his breath. Yeah, he shouldn't have said anything from the start.

"Can you do it painlessly?" James murmured, a bit of a squeak at the end, watching as Granger stepped into the stairs once it aligned itself in front of them.

He could hear the smirk in her voice when she replied, "Where's the fun in that?"

James decided that it would be best to keep his mouth shut if he truly wanted to live to see tomorrow.

Granger started walking, and he immediately walked to catch up to her. Each staircase seemed willing to accommodate her as they swung and twisted to the path that Granger wanted to take. He knew this because not once did Granger pause since she started moving up in the staircase.

Heck, was Granger so formidable that even a centuries-old castle was willing to listen to her?

As if James needed more reasons to remember why messing with the prissy and uptight Gryffindor Prefect was a bad idea.

He thought of the scars on Sirius' hands and couldn't help but shiver. Once upon a time, Sirius thought it would be funny to hide Granger's assignments that she left on the common room table one night. All those assignments were due the day after. It turned out that the parchments were all hexed, and when Sirius had touched them, boils erupted all over the skin on the back of his hand, popping into a messy, green pus whenever he tried to touch them. Not even the new mediwitch, Madam Pomfrey, could help Sirius.

They had all been angry then when they confronted Granger about the hex after leaving the Hospital Wing. The witch in question had sat on her wingback chair—the one everyone knew was hers, despite it being a property of Hogwarts—when they approached her. Sirius hadn't hesitated to demand for the cure, blaming her for his pitiful state.

"I didn't even do anything!" Sirius had bellowed at that time, holding his hands mid-air for them to see the angry round boils, his skin tinged a nasty purplish-red. "I only just touched it! Who in their right mind would put a hex on their parchment?!"

The witch had merely casted them an indifferent glance, not even taking note of the popping boils all over Sirius' hands as she raised a cool eyebrow.

"It's funny how you think this is all my fault," she had drawled, cocking her head to the side, her hair curling over her neck, "when you were the one who triggered the hex because of your malicious intentions. If you didn't have malicious intent over my things, you wouldn't have boils all over your hands."

Sirius had sputtered, trying to defend himself, and even Remus—the reputable good boy of the Gryffindor house—had expressed that Granger had overstepped. James had remembered being too distracted at that time because Lily had been watching them then, voicing out her concerns and trying to convince Granger to heal Sirius in the background.

Granger, at that time, kept her cold demeanor despite being peer pressured, and with a voice as sharp as a deadly cursed blade, said, "Be grateful that the boils only appeared on your hands. If you had truly tried to sabotage the contents of my assignment or tried to destroy it, the boils would've been on your balls."

Needless to say, they all paled—and went even paler when, with a flick of her wrist—with no incantation or wand—the boils disappeared in a flash. As if it healed, silvery streaks now decorated the back of Sirius' hands where the boils had been.

"It's a reminder," Granger said, eyes trained on the scars. Then her lips curled—it was the first time they'd ever seen her smile—and it was terrifying. "Now, whenever you look at your hands, you'll be reminded to keep your hands to yourself."

They were only in their third year at that time, and Hermione Granger had successfully terrified them all into submission. She wasn't even a Dueling Champion at that time, not until next year when fourth years were encouraged to join the Dueling Club.

James—for all of his bravado and Gryffindor courage—knew when to avoid a tough opponent when he saw one. Granger easily topped in his "don't-mess-unless-you're-suicidal" list, next to his parents and Professor Dumbledore.

He still didn't know where they were going, until he recognized the familiar surroundings they found themselves in when Granger hopped from the last step of the staircase into the hallway.

He casted a suspicious glance at Granger who never acknowledged him again after he went quiet. He kept his questions to himself, silently trailing after her, eyebrows furrowing deeper when they turned around the corner and he saw the familiar portrait of the Fat Lady ahead of them.

Granger hadn't led him to his death. Rather, she led him back to the Gryffindor Tower.

The relief that came over him was swift, but he still remained on guard when Granger suddenly spun on her heel to face him. James drew back, eyes wide with wariness that she narrowed her eyes at.

Granger pursed her lips before pushing the cloak into his arms. Too shocked to even register what was happening, James could only accept it silently.

Her hands dropped to her sides, head cocked to the side. "I'm sorry about Lily."

His eyes grew wider, his breath stuck in his chest. Wait, what? He couldn't believe that she knew about what happened earlier that morning, but she actually knew. James knew that most people in Hogwarts probably knew that Lily ripped a new one into him that morning, but he was startled that even Granger had heard of the news.

She knew and she was… apologizing for it? The Hermione Granger was apologizing to him about it? What in the world was going on? Words couldn't even convey how astonished he was. He and Granger weren't even close to begin with. In fact, this was probably the first time they spoke to each other because Granger just didn't approach or speak to anyone ever since she came here. But now she was speaking to him? Pitying him?

Had Lily's rejection addled his brain? Because he was certain he was hallucinating.

She endured his scrutiny, making no attempt to show a hint of whatever she was feeling. Her eyes remained impassive, her face devoid of creases. "That's why you're walking around so late at night, right?" She shrugged her shoulders, looking away from his startled eyes. "Next time, don't get caught."

James gawked at her retreating back, confused why she hadn't deducted points or led him to Professor McGonagall or strung him on his ankles to drain his blood from his open head. But more than that, he was glad he was still alive and relieved that Granger hadn't done anything aside from leading him back to the Gryffindor common room like some naive firstie.

Perhaps, there was more to Granger than being the scariest witch of the age.