True to form, Annika had sent me a meeting request 15 minutes after leaving her apartment for 3 pm on Tuesday. Cc'd on the email was also a jpotter . I didn't recognize the address again, but a quick search on my phone showed that it was only 10 minutes away from Annika's place… another expensive neighborhood I'd never set foot in. Probably his personal assistant's apartment this time.

I had about an hour before I had to meet my first student of the day so I decided to go back to my apartment—oh no, my students. My stomach churned uncomfortably. How could I just tell them I couldn't work with them anymore? I looked down at the small slip of paper crumpled in my left hand that had my fee written down. Oh yeah, that was how. Still though, I had spent years with some of my students. It wouldn't be easy saying goodbye, even for just a few months.

Everyone was for the most part woken up when I got back home. Kit had made her way to the table and was slowly drinking some orange juice while Jules was baking muffins. Imogen had taken over Kit's place on the couch and had a pillow over her head.

"Jayne," Kit said blearily once she spotted me. "So who was your mysterious client?"

"Um," I stalled.

James Potter had been two years above me at Hogwarts. I think one time he accidentally ran into me as he rounded a corner and said sorry. That was about the extent of our interactions all five years we were at Hogwarts together, and we didn't even make eye contact during it. In sum, up and coming Gryffindor quidditch star James Potter and nerdy Ravenclaw me did not run in the same circles. I had worked with Albus Potter, who was in my year, a handful of times on assigned group projects, however. He had been perfectly amiable but we'd never conversed further past those assignments and the occasional hello as we passed each other in the halls. I doubted he'd remember me now.

Rose Weasley and Louis Weasley were the other members of the Potter-Weasley clan in my year. Similarly to Albus, I had been paired with Rose on a few projects throughout the years. Like most Ravenclaws, I harbored a twinge of resentment towards her for getting constant praise from professors for apparently inheriting her mother's 'Ravenclaw-like intellect' despite both being in Gryffindor. Rose was quite clever, but it was a not-so-secret that Ravenclaws mostly thought she didn't have that spark of creativity and desire to learn that defined us. We worked well enough together when we had to, but I was still annoyed (yes, seven years later) from when she cut out a part of my work on our Defense Against the Dark Arts project that the professor had deemed essential, resulting in a lower grade. Again, I didn't think she'd remember me either.

Louis was my favorite—he put in minimal effort on assignments, which should have turned me against him, but he was quite upfront about how he didn't care and showed up to each group meeting with enough humor to make us want to hang around him. We had chosen to work together for almost a full year in Charms our sixth year, as I would help him understand the material and he'd get me my favorite candies from Honeydukes and regale me with tales of his eventful weekends.

All this to say, I was never particularly bothered with what Potter was doing other than a passing respect for his quidditch talent—by fourth year, I had come to terms with my place in the Hogwarts social sphere. Kit and Jules were both enamored, however; Kit for his quidditch prospects and Jules because he was a fit boy with famous parents. If there was anyone I couldn't tell, it was these two. Luckily, I had a good excuse for hiding my newest potential client.

"I signed an NDA, so I can't actually say anything." Kit's tired eyes suddenly became much brighter, Jules stopped stirring the batter, and the pillow over Imogen's head on the couch lifted just enough for her to peek at me.

"You signed an NDA?" Kit repeated. "Why?"

"My client apparently likes his privacy. Well, actually he's not really my client yet, we still have to meet to make sure it'll work out. But yeah, I can't say anything, sorry." I may have been a little smug at having some interesting news in my life for once.

"Is it Damon Kleinfeld?" Jules asked immediately. "I fucking love Damon Kleinfeld."

"Why would an international quidditch star need a tutor?" Kit countered. I tried to control my expression but I apparently didn't do it well enough because Kit's eyes bugged out. "Shit, is it Damon Kleinfeld? Because I also fucking love Damon Kleinfeld."

"Who the fuck is Damon Kleinfeld?" came Imogen's voice, muffled from the pillow over her head.

"Uh yeah, sorry, it's not him. I don't know who that is either."

Kit and Jules exchanged offended looks at our ignorance, but let it slide.

"So who is it then? It's a quidditch player, right?"

"I just told you I couldn't say. I don't even know if I'll be working with this person for sure."

"Why not?"

"Well, I'd have to focus only on him and give up all my other students. I think he'd need a lot of attention too maybe. But they'd pay me a good amount."

"Take the money," Kit said.

"Eh, depends. You don't want to be stuck babysitting some spoiled overgrown celebrity brat for nothing." I silently passed the scrap of paper with the amount written on it to Imogen. "Take the fucking money," she said instantly.

"Just think about what would be best for your mental health," Jules said soothingly. "You don't need to rush into a decision—"

Kit fixed her with a glare and Imogen threw a pillow at her.

"Ow! Ok, fine, take the money."

"Well, I have a meeting with him on Tuesday, so I guess I'll see how I feel when I meet him." I sighed.

"I know how I'd feel meeting him," Kit muttered to Jules, who giggled.

"You don't even know who he is." Imogen snorted.

"He's a fit quidditch player. I don't need to know the specifics." Kit waved away the minor detail of his name.

"How do you know he's fit?" I asked, amused.

"They're all fit," Jules dismissed.

"Is he fit?" Kit asked, a gleam in her eye. I stayed silent and she let out a triumphant 'ha' before wincing and holding her head. A relatable mood.

The ticking hands on the clock were painfully loud in the living room I had been waiting in for the past 30 minutes.

"I'm so sorry, Jayne. I'll try reaching him again." Annika's pursued lips told me this was not an uncommon occurrence with her client. She stepped out into the kitchen while dialing a number furiously on her phone. All I heard was a hissed "James Sirius Potter, you better—" before the door swung shut behind her.

I whipped out my phone that I had hidden away in front of Annika so as to not appear unprofessional. Though that likely wouldn't be a problem with my client, if he ever even decided to show up and become my client.

I've been in his apartment for almost 30 minutes with his manager and he's still not here, I texted Kit. Her response came immediately.

Not surprising. Her next message was a link to an article with pictures of Potter partying from last night. I barely went out on the weekends when I was in the middle of the semester; I couldn't imagine 2 am clubbing on a Tuesday. Kit must have been with Jules and Imogen since they also decided to text me just then.

The day after I had announced my celebrity client, Kit had searched for Annika Sepkist and figured out she was James Potter's manager. I figured since I technically never told them about James, I wasn't in breach of the NDA. The apartment had been filled with enough squeals that our irritable neighbor had come over to ask us to keep it down.

Maybe he's having a bad day and just forgot as an honest mistake. Jules was ever the optimist. Or maybe it was her celebrity fangirl side coming out.

Honestly, just leave. And steal something while you're there as compensation for them wasting your time. We could probably sell it and make at least 3 months rent, Imogen sent. I snapped a picture of the presumably expensive candle on the table in front of me and one of his boxer shorts peeking out of the doorway to his bedroom.

Which do you think we can get more money from?

Another three minutes passed of me sitting alone on the couch before I heard the front door mercifully open. I willed my leg to stop bouncing and tightened my ponytail nervously. No matter how late the client was, I still wanted to present a professional image.

Of course, I never had to worry about my clients appearing hungover since they were usually much younger than me.

A tall, dark-skinned man stumbled in, wearing a wrinkled shirt that was completely unbuttoned. His warm brown eyes and easy laugh made him easy to identify—Fred Weasley, James's cousin.

"You would not fucking believe the night I had—" He stopped abruptly and stared at me blankly.

"Hi," I said politely, not sure if he had been told I was supposed to meet James. "I'm Jayne MacPherson. I'm just waiting for James."

I began to stand and hold out my hand to shake his, but he awkwardly caught my wrist and patted the back of my hand with an oddly panicked look. From the brief moment when I'd leaned in, I could smell last night's alcohol on him.

"Right, lovely to meet you. Um, did James tell you to meet him here?"

"His manager set this up. Annika Sepkist? She's in the kitchen right now calling him if you want to check," I offered, seeing his still-suspicious expression.

"Oh, you're the tutor," he realized.

"Yes, exactly. Would you happen to know where James is? We were supposed to meet—" I checked my watch. "40 minutes ago."

"Good luck with that," he laughed. "I don't know where he is but last time I saw him, it was 3 am and he was chugging a—"

A crack of apparition and a loud crash came from what I presumed was James's bedroom, followed by a stream of swear words.

"James!" yelled a shrill voice. Fred winced and pressed a hand against his temple in what I assumed was an attempt to assuage a hangover.

"She's always so loud," he said goodnaturedly with an eye roll towards me in commisteration. I of course had no idea who he was talking about but gathered it was not who I was waiting for.

A petite redhead stormed into the living room. Her sparkly dress and mussed hair indicated that she too had been out last night with her brother and cousin. For fuck's sake, was I to meet every Potter and Weasley there was except for the only one I actually needed?

"Where the fuck is James? He stole my owl and I know he won't feed Magellan the organic pellets he needs." Lily Potter scowled dangerously. Her eyes narrowed in on me and she gave me a judgmental once over. "Look, I don't know who you are, but I'm really not in the mood to deal with Freddie's girl of the night so if you don't mind—"

"Not his date," I said quickly as Fred said, "Keep it down, Lils. It's still early."

"It's 2 in the afternoon," I pointed out. He shrugged. I turned back to Lily. "I'm his tutor. James's, that is. I mean, Mr. Potter."

"James doesn't have a tutor." She narrowed her eyes.

"Oh. Um…" A desperate look at Fred proved to be useless as he shrugged back at me. Mercifully, Annika came out of the kitchen just then.

"Freddie, Lily," she addressed them much more warmly than she ever had with me.

"James needs a tutor?"

Annika frowned at me. Oops. I hadn't even met James himself yet and I'd already messed up.

"You'll have to ask James himself about any information in his private life." A classic nonanswer. She was good. Annika turned to me and I automatically stopped fidgeting. The woman could command a room. "James said he's on his way. I'm sure you understand."

"Of course," I said, without understanding at all. How long could Apparation or the Floo possibly take?

"Freddie, Lily, I'll have to ask you to leave the living room to us once James comes please." Upon Lily's protests, Annika confirmed she'd ask James about her missing owl. Freddie began searching for his wallet while Lily grabbed a jacket from the floor that I assumed was either her brother's or cousin's based on how it was comically oversized on her.

"I should've known you weren't his date from the beginning. You're not his type at all," Freddie chuckled. I smiled wanly, choosing to ignore the comment.

"Like, at all," he added. "Seriously, I don't know how I ever could have pictured you two together—"

"I think she gets it, Freddie." Lily looked at me and rolled her eyes as if to commiserate over his lack of tact. Ok, now I was beginning to feel seriously insulted.

"Out," Annika commanded, though fondly. Freddie gave me an enthusiastic wave as he left. Lily snorted and told me good luck, which didn't bode well for my upcoming meeting with her brother. Though at this rate, I didn't know if I was ever going to actually meet him.

Another five minutes of sitting in Potter's living room (the longer I waited, I had gone from thinking of him as 'Mr. Potter' to 'James Potter' to simply 'Potter') until I heard the familiar crack of Apparation in his room.

James Potter sauntered into the living room, his hair an attractive mess and sleeves rolled up to expose his muscular forearms. I bit my lip and reminded myself this inconsiderate prick had kept me waiting for quite some time without a word.

"Hey, sorry I'm late," he said to Annika. I waited for him to turn to me and enthusiastically profess his apologies.

Instead, he gave me an uninterested glance. "You're the tutor?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm Jayne," I said tersely. I had practiced greeting him with a smile and handshake to make a good impression, but waiting over an hour for him without an apology had made my desire to people please dissipate. Besides, something told me James Potter wasn't one for handshakes.

He dropped into the chair next to me lazily and started texting on his phone. I wondered if James Potter had ever had to actually introduce himself before.

"Well, I'll let you get to it," Annika said warily. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need me."

"Right, so how long is this whole thing going to take? I want to try and take the NEWTs before the season starts."

"Um." I didn't know much about quidditch but I was pretty sure he wasn't going to like my answer. "Well, you're attempting to take 4 NEWTs. That'll probably take at least 6 months of dedicated studying."

"6 months of studying?" He finally looked up from his phone and stared at me. "You've got to be kidding. The season starts in October."

"Dedicated studying," I corrected. "There's a reason seventh year at Hogwarts is so hard."

His displeased expression didn't change. I blinked back at him. After a torturously long moment of fidgeting under his gaze, I finally spoke up.

"The preliminary schedule has us meeting three times a week with you doing a little homework outside on your own. I could set it up so we meet four times each week instead. That would probably let you finish in four and a half months instead of six."

"Make it five times a week."

"I can't."
"I can pay."

I shook my head. "It's not a financial concern. I just don't have the time."

He narrowed his eyes. "I'm paying you to make the time."

"I have my own classes too."

He turned my planner towards himself. I waited for him to read it and realize that I really didn't have additional time. Instead, he also plucked my quil from my hand and began scribbling.

"Woah, what are you doing?" I had been deferential up until now for my VIP client but messing with my planner wasn't allowed by anyone, not even Mr. Potter Legacy Quidditch Star himself.

"You can move these appointments here around and make time at 2 on Fridays." He looked at me expectantly.

"I don't have to explain my personal life and schedule to you," I said slowly, startled he'd go through my planner. "I'm telling you I can only do four times a week maximum, and even that is pushing it."

James frowned and I held my breath. This was it, he was going to say this isn't going to work out and I'd have to go back to working with a dozen or so students to try and make rent—

"Fine." He stood and I let my shoulders drop from their tense position. "We'll meet here next Monday at 3 to start. Unless your schedule is too full then as well?" He looked at me sarcastically.

"Um, no, that should be fine," I stuttered, gathering my things and standing up to face him as well. Given that he had about half a foot of height on me, that gesture wasn't as intimidating as I would have liked it to be.

"Alright then. Pleasure to meet you, Jayne." He gave me another sarcastic smile and walked into the kitchen. Honestly, I was surprised he even registered my name. I'd take the little victories where I could.

After a crack in the kitchen signifying James had left, Annika came in with a smile that I didn't think suited the mood at all.

"That went well, didn't it?"

A/N: I know James seems like a dick because, well, he is, but don't worry, he'll get better! Thanks for reading and please review!