I arrived at James's apartment on Wednesday, once again waiting to be let in. After my third knock, Fred was the one who opened the door.
"Jayne the tutor!" He beamed.
"Hi Fred." I couldn't help but smile back, his energy infectious.
"James isn't here yet but come in."
I struggled to keep my smile relaxed as I stepped in. I thought we'd been getting along pretty well the past few lessons. He'd been on time to all of them at the very least after our argument, but I didn't want to think about what it'd be like if he went back to his old ways.
There was nothing for me to do but work, so I pulled out my notebook with my research notes. After several minutes, I didn't realize James had stepped out into the living room.
"What's that?"
"Oh, sorry, I didn't realize you were ready." I started reshuffling my notes to put them away again when James frowned.
"I thought I told you I'm not doing Ancient Runes."
"As incredible as it seems, my world doesn't actually revolve around your narcissistic ass."
James smirked back. Once I figured out that he was actually ok with me casually insulting him—seemed to enjoy it even—we had figured out our footing around each other, no longer so hesitant.
"Well, it should." He peered over my shoulder, getting far too close for my personal comfort. It wasn't great to have an attractive client that was actually my age. "Cheating on me with another student, MacPherson?"
"Yeah, me."
His eyes shifted to give me a confused look. I stood up, pretending to stretch when I really just needed him to step away.
"You're a student?"
"Yep."
He looked down at my notes, flipping through them. I shoved my hands in the back pockets of my jeans to prevent myself from grabbing my notebook out of his hands. It was all just notes on various literature and how I wanted to structure my own dissertation, but it felt like he was reading my diary. My messy handwriting when I was tired, my incomprehensible shorthand, my scribblings in the corners of each page rather than neatly on each line…it was like my brain had exploded on the page and he had opened right to it.
"Studying… just Ancient Runes?" He looked up from my notes with such a lost look in his eyes that I bit my lip to stifle a giggle.
"I'm studying how to use Ancient Runes as a method of curse breaking," I explained. James's brow furrowed.
"I thought curse breakers usually had to work with Charms."
"Many British curses are solved that way but a lot of the ancient civilizations used their own versions of Runes as the foundations of their curses. They can still be undone by Charmwork but if we can figure out the base Rune and two of the five ancillary Runes in each curse, it could be undone much faster and with a better understanding of the curse itself to both break others from the same culture but also to create new ones."
"Kind of like the base for the Romanian love potion?" James asked hesitantly.
"Yeah, exactly!" He shot me an amused look at the excitement in my voice, and I smiled sheepishly.
"So are you just finishing up at Hogwarts? I didn't know they took students after 7th year."
"No, I'm at Oxford."
James's eyebrows shot up for a moment before he rolled his eyes. "I should've known."
I paused, giving him a hesitant glance. It didn't sound like a compliment.
"Relax, MacPherson. Just that you're obviously, you know."
I tilted my head. I did not obviously know, and I wasn't quite sure I wanted to. My brain unwillingly ran through the various dreaded ways he could possibly finish the sentence. Pretentious, swotty, nerdy, elitist… uptight.
James sighed. "Competent."
I blinked, letting the word wash over me, and beamed as though he told me I was the most brilliant person he had ever met, surpassing his aunt, the Smartest Witch of her Age and the Minister of Magic.
"Only the best for James Potter." I said, though the mocking bite of my words was undercut by my relieved smile.
"And you're the best?" He gave me a dubious glance but with a smirk.
"You said it, not me."
"I'm only going to give this one to you because I'm late. Sorry about that by the way." he said hesitantly, running a hand through his sweaty hair. "Practice ran late and I tried to leave early but Coach wasn't having it and I didn't have time to change—"
"It's fine," I said, interrupting his rambling. Was James Potter…scared of me? I couldn't hold back my smug smile. "Good practice, at least?"
"Uh, yeah." He scratched the back of his head, still looking embarrassed. "I know we talked about being on time and everything, but mind if I take a quick shower? It'd be more for your sake than mine, trust me."
He tugged at his sweaty jersey, and I sighed.
"Go ahead, but be quick."
"Five minutes, tops," he called out and jogged to his room. I averted my eyes as he stripped off his jersey before leaving. Be professional, Jayne.
James came back in seven minutes but I wasn't about to quibble. It didn't take long for our session to get derailed once more though.
After his third muffled groan, I put my quill down.
"Are you ok?"
He grimaced, rubbing his left side. "Rough practice. They kept making us run this formation where we had to do a Tripping Lombowsky pattern but Johnston kept hitting the bludger right into me. It was like he was trying to run the Skatterman play except he forgot I'm on his team."
"Ah. Sounds…painful."
James snorted, correctly interpreting my lost expression. "You don't follow a lot of quidditch, do you? When was the last time you saw a game?"
The longer I took to think, the more alarmed James became. "I don't know, maybe like fourth year."
"Fourth year at Hogwarts?" he yelped. "Aren't you like my age?"
"Two years younger."
"You haven't watched quidditch in almost a decade?" James demanded. I shrugged, which apparently wasn't enough of an answer to satisfy him. "Unbelievable," he muttered, shaking his head. "But you know some of the players, right? Like you definitely heard of me, obviously."
"I mean, I knew you played quidditch. I don't think I knew what team or what position."
He stared at me.
"And, um…oh wait, is Derek Kleinfield a player? I think one of my roommates mentioned him."
"Damon Kleinfeld?" James scoffed. "He's some tosser who's had like 2 lucky goals this whole season. Your roommate probably just loves him because she thinks he's attractive for some reason."
I couldn't help but laugh at his hypocrisy. "Yeah, I'm sure all of your fangirls support you for your talent and the love of the game."
He leaned back in his seat. "First off, I'm in the top five in the league for goals scored this season. Which you would know if you paid literally any attention to what was going on." I rolled my eyes but he continued with a far worse line of conversation. "And second…" He grinned and my stomach rolled. "It's good to know even you think I'm attractive."
"I said your fans think you're attractive, not me." I turned my face away, hoping he wouldn't see me turn red. "And what do you mean 'even me'?"
"I mean that all you talk about is school," he said, leaning in towards me across the table, but abruptly wincing.
"Don't you want to take a pain reducing potion for that?" I asked, ready to switch topics.
"I can't," he grimaced.
"Why not?" Please don't tell me he was one of those holistic medicine people that didn't believe in Healers and treatment.
James hesitated. "I'm on some other potions that it would interfere with," he said roughly, not looking me in the eye.
I didn't know if that meant drugs or another illicit substance, but I couldn't work with him for another two hours if he was in pain.
"Can I take a look?"
He shrugged and lifted the side of his shirt to show his ribs. I trailed my fingers over the part with a large red bump and he flinched again. I winced in sympathy. He was going to have a nasty bruise forming by tomorrow.
"What about a soothing elixir? The main ingredient in a healing potion that usually is problematic for mixing with others is wortworm, but this one works with a manticore horn so it's less volatile. It's not as strong for pain relief as the other kind but it could still help a bit with the swelling too."
"Really?"
"I mean, ask your Healer first, but it should be fine. What if we brewed that together tomorrow?"
"I thought we were doing the Draught of Living Death. Healing potions aren't NEWT level."
"It's at least up to OWL standards. Besides, I'd rather you learn something that you'll use often. And it sounds like you'll need it in the future."
James nodded slowly. "Yeah…that'd be good. Thanks."
The rest of our lesson went smoothly as I showed him the components of human transfiguration. But as I began packing up, he threw me for a loop again.
"What are you doing this weekend?" James turned to me with such determination that I was taken aback.
"I, uh, nothing. Just working on my usual assignments."
"Good. You're going to the game."
"Whose game?"
"Mine," he said like I was stupid. Which, to be fair, was a pretty obvious thing for me to have missed. "Puddlemere is playing the Cannons Saturday night. I'm on Puddlemere, by the way," he added sarcastically.
"I don't know if I can—"
"There is no way you can go another 8 years without watching a quidditch game. I'll save you some tickets at the front office so you can bring someone too. Assuming you have people to bring."
"I have friends," I snapped.
"Sure," He grinned. "Just make sure you're cheering for the right team."
"No one on the Cannons has ever made me explain the theory behind the Noise Charms just to use it for a fart prank, so yeah, I think I know who to cheer for."
"Remember who's paying you," he called out.
"Remember who's teaching you," I yelled back.
"I know I talk a lot of shit about James Potter, but if he comes through on this, I might actually like…actually no, not even then," Imogen said, munching on her popcorn.
"It's so sweet of him to do this for you, Jayne. And to think about us too!" If Jules wasn't already in love with James, she definitely was now.
"I think it's more about him not believing someone isn't obsessed with quidditch rather than a gesture from the kindness of his heart. But yeah, it's nice of him," I admitted.
Kit and Jules had forced me to wear a Potter Puddlemere jersey one of them owned. Imogen, not owning any quidditch gear and nearly as uninterested as I was in the sport, went out and bought a bright orange Chudley Cannons jersey "out of spite."
I held my breath as we approached the front counter. Here was the moment of truth.
"Excuse me?" I asked. "I'm here to pick up some tickets that were reserved under my name. Jayne MacPherson?"
"Hm, one moment," the receptionist said, typing away.
I stood there in an uncomfortable silence, fidgeting under the gazes of my three friends, who were a mix of excited, bored, and skeptical.
"I'm sorry, what did you say your name was again?" Her face was confused as she looked through her notes. My heart dropped. He had forgotten and dragged me and my friends out all this way for nothing.
"Jayne MacPherson," I repeated, a little feebler from last time.
"Huh. Well the only Jayne I have here is listed under 'Jayne the Tutor.'" She raised her eyebrows at me. "Is that you?"
"Oh, yes!" I laughed in sheer relief.
"Here you go. Enjoy the game!"
"Jayne the tutor," Kit repeated as we followed the signs to our seats. "Cute nickname."
"He doesn't usually call me—oh here they are." I hastily handed over the tickets to the nearest usher.
"You're in the wrong section. I'll have to show you to the box myself since it's a little out of the way."
"Thank you for that," I said hastily. If James ended up seating me in the most obscure location…
After weaving in and out of doors and hallways, our usher finally led us through a set of double doors. As I gazed onto the field, I felt a little bit of guilt at having doubted James so much.
Not only had he not forgotten about the tickets, he had gotten us perhaps the best seats in the stadium. A private box with unlimited food service, the usher informed us. From our view, we could see the whole field without any obstruction.
"Alright, I'll admit it. He came through big time." Imogen threw herself onto the nearest chair with Jules delicately sitting beside her. Even Kit was impressed, taking in the scene with discerning eyes.
"Maybe I'll go a bit easier on him this week. A little more Charms, a little less Potions," I agreed.
As the game started, Jules and Kit would lean over to explain what was going on, but honestly the only thing I really understood was that James Potter was really, really good. Not that I would ever tell him that. But it was obvious when seeing him fly so naturally compared to the others on his team, even against other professionals. He swooped among the other players, tallying up goals for his team.
I still didn't really know what was going on, but I could kind of see how other people were into this since the flying was cool to watch. Until the last five minutes of the game sent my nerves completely into overdrive.
"It looks like Danfrey from the Cannons sees the snitch! He's flying straight down to the field but—wait! Potter is chasing him. Will he catch up enough to block Danfrey and give his own seeker the chance to win the game for Puddlemere? Or is it a Wronski Feint from Danfrey to wipe out Puddlemere's best chaser?"
I was hovering on the edge of my seat as James sped straight down vertically after the other team's seeker.
"What if they crash?" I asked Kit.
"They have Healers on standby. I'm sure it'll be fine," she replied, but her voice wasn't too confident.
I didn't have to worry because James pulled up several hundred yards from the ground, safely away from any crash landing while the seeker continued to speed straight down vertically, hand stretched out. A second later, boos and moans filled the stadium as the Cannons seeker flew up with the snitch grasped victoriously in his hand.
"An uncharacteristically timid display from Potter leads to Danfrey on the Cannons catching the snitch and winning the game!" The announcer's voice boomed across the stadium.
"Wow, he really fucked up that one," Imogen commented next to me.
Broadcast on the giant screens around us, James's scowl was unmistakable.