we, we used too many hours
to find the answer.
—Mikha Angelo, middle ground.
Madison Ainsley never felt like she was cut out to be a Prefect. The badge weighed heavy with responsibility, clashing with her natural laziness and her general dislike for anything that required courage—qualities which, frankly, she was well aware didn't fit the role. Worse than the duties, though, was the dreaded patrol schedule. Like tonight.
She crept through the shadowed corridors, every step seeming to echo louder than the last, setting her nerves on edge. The darkness stretched endlessly ahead, and the flickering torchlight did little to ease her anxiety, casting long, wavering shadows across the stone walls. Paintings whispered in hushed voices, their eyes following her with unnerving interest, making her spine tingle with unease. She hated these late patrols, hated the stillness of the castle at night. The emptiness made every distant creak sound like a threat, and each gust of air seemed to carry a whisper she'd rather not hear.
It wasn't as if she'd ever asked for this responsibility. What did the professors expect her to do if she actually found something suspicious? Sure, if it was just a student sneaking back to the dorms, she could handle that with a sharp word and a pointed gesture toward their common room. But what if it was something worse—a creature roaming the hallways or, Merlin forbid, an actual troll?
The thought made her shiver. If she ever came face-to-face with anything dangerous, she'd be running the other way faster than she could remember any spell. Her mind conjured a vivid image of herself, panicking, bolting blindly through the dark hallways, probably forgetting every route back to the safety of the staff rooms. The professors seemed to have a lot more faith in her courage than she did.
Tonight, at least, she wasn't entirely alone. Her patrol schedule paired her with Remus Lupin, a fellow seventh-year and the kind of Prefect Madison figured every professor hoped for. Sweet, responsible, and endlessly polite, he had a calm demeanor that made it hard not to feel at ease around him, even if they'd barely exchanged more than a few words outside of class.
It had been thoughtful of him, too, to let her pick their patrol routes. They were supposed to split up to cover more ground, and when he'd offered her the choice, she'd instantly chosen the corridors closest to the Ravenclaw tower. That way, if any real trouble did appear, she could dash back to her dorm without having to venture too far into the shadowy maze of the castle.
Let Remus cover the darker, draftier parts—he didn't seem nearly as unnerved by them as she was.
Madison tensed as a sharp crack echoed down the hall, followed by the faint glow of a light vanishing, as though someone had whispered Nox just out of view. Her heart skipped, and she clutched her wand tighter, suddenly hyper-aware of every shadow in the corridor. She strained to listen, feeling her pulse thud in her ears as if the darkened aisle ahead held something waiting to jump out at her.
Her mind raced. Was it a student sneaking around after hours—or something else entirely? She took a shaky breath, trying to muster the courage to step forward.
There was movement—a faint, shifting silhouette down the aisle. Madison squinted, just able to make out the clear form of a human figure. Relief briefly washed over her, only for a new thought to spike her panic—what if it was a vampire? The thought almost made her choke.
Her heart hammered as her imagination spiraled. She could almost picture the figure turning, pale skin catching the faint torchlight, a predatory gleam in its eyes. She took a half-step back, gripping her wand so tightly her knuckles went white. She'd never learned anything about handling vampires in patrol training, and she was quite sure her only reaction would be to flee.
She considered her options, weighing her pride against the primal urge to bolt back to the safety of her dorm.
Just as Madison was about to back away, the figure spoke, and she nearly dropped her wand.
"I never understood why you're such a scaredy cat, Ainsley," the voice called out, casual and amused.
Relief flooded through her as she recognized the voice—James Potter, sounding both exasperated and slightly entertained. She felt the heat rise in her cheeks, half-embarrassed and half-irritated. They didn't know each other well, but he'd been the first person she'd met on the Hogwarts Express years ago—a chance encounter she hadn't given much thought to since. Now here he was, apparently finding it hilarious that he'd spooked her.
"Potter," Madison's voice was strained, her annoyance creeping through despite the embarrassment she felt. She forced herself to meet his gaze, but it was hard to focus with the ridiculous grin plastered across his face. "Aren't you the Head Boy? I thought you were supposed to set an example for the younger students."
James just shrugged, still amused. "It's a title, not a life sentence."
Madison's gaze shifted, and that's when she noticed his disheveled appearance—his hair more tousled than usual, his shirt slightly askew, and the unmistakable signs of someone who had been in a rush, or perhaps a bit too careless. But it wasn't until her eyes landed on his neck that her stomach turned.
A very red, very noticeable hickey was clearly visible just beneath his jaw. Madison's face twisted into a disgusted expression without thinking, her lips curling in disbelief. She couldn't help the reaction—of all the things to see in the middle of her patrol, this was definitely not it.
"Really?" she managed to choke out, trying to mask her discomfort. "A hickey, Potter?"
James, noticing the direction of her gaze, smirked and quickly adjusted his collar as if that would somehow make it disappear. "What can I say? Sometimes things get out of hand."
Madison's eyes narrowed, the disgust still lingering on her face. She couldn't help it. The whole thing reminded her of something she'd always had trouble understanding people who swore they loved their partners, yet did things like this. James Potter, for example, was as far from being with Lily Evans as she could imagine, yet here he was, wearing a hickey like a badge of honor from some random girl. It was hard to reconcile someone claiming devotion while sneaking off to snog in dark corners, as though it meant nothing.
It made her question everything people said about love. How could anyone truly believe in it when they saw examples like this—empty gestures and contradictory actions? But then again, maybe it was just the stress talking. Madison didn't exactly know what kind of pressure James was under with his perfect "Head Boy" title and his constant attempts to win over Evans. Maybe he was just trying to escape it all in the easiest way he knew how.
Still, she couldn't help but feel a little jaded by the whole thing. There was something so hollow about it. She almost wanted to ask him if he'd learned anything from the night. But then again, Madison figured it was probably pointless.
"Well," she finally muttered, giving him one last glance before turning to walk away. "Maybe you should try keeping it somewhere a little less public next time, Potter."
Just as Madison was about to turn and continue her patrol, James' voice stopped her in her tracks.
"So, how's Carlo McNair doing these days?" he asked, the casual tone in his voice making Madison freeze.
Her whole body tensed, and she spun back around to face him, her scowl deepening. "What?" she snapped, her irritation flaring up again.
James shrugged nonchalantly, clearly enjoying riling her up. "Just curious. Haven't heard much about him lately. You two still on a break or something?"
Madison's jaw tightened. Carlo McNair. The name still made her stomach turn in the worst way. She hadn't been able to avoid hearing about him since their breakup months ago—he still acted like they were just on a temporary pause. She couldn't even remember the last time he'd left her alone.
"He can rot in hell for all I care," she said curtly, fighting to keep her voice even.
"He doesn't seem to get the memo," James said, a hint of amusement in his voice, as if he found her reaction mildly entertaining.
Madison's patience snapped at that. "Do you think I don't know that? I'm not blind, Potter."
She could feel the heat of her anger rising, the frustration bubbling up at the thought of Carlo—how he still seemed to think they could just pick things up where they'd left off. It made her want to scream. But instead, she stood there, glaring at James, as if daring him to say something more.
James opened his mouth, as if to say something else, but then he seemed to reconsider, the amusement in his eyes fading slightly. "Alright, alright," he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "No need to bite my head off. Just trying to make a conversation."
Madison didn't respond. The words were right there, itching to be said, but she didn't want to waste any more energy on this pointless back-and-forth. She wasn't one for unnecessary confrontations, especially not with James Potter of all people. With a sharp exhale, she turned on her heel and started walking away, determined to just get back to her patrol.
But James wasn't letting it go that easily.
"Ainsley," he called, this time with a more serious tone. "I've got a proposition for you."
Madison paused, exasperated. She'd heard that tone from him before, but it didn't change the fact that she didn't know when to take him seriously. She turned back, giving him a long, unimpressed look. Was he ever serious? Honestly, she couldn't remember a time when James Potter wasn't joking or playing around. The whole thing felt like a game to him, and she was pretty sure she didn't have the energy for it tonight.
"Potter," she said, her voice tinged with irritation, "you're breaking curfew. I'm not sure if I'm supposed to report you to McGonagall or not, but why don't you just walk back to your dorm and stop messing around with me?"
"You might regret not hearing me out."
Madison threw her hands up in exasperation, letting out a deep breath. She was so fed up with him, but there was something about the way he said it that made her roll her eyes.
"Fine," she said, her voice laced with sarcasm. "I'll humour you. But if this isn't at leasthalffunny, I'm definitely ratting you out to McGonagall."
James grinned, clearly pleased that she hadn't walked away just yet. "Deal," he said, leaning in slightly. "A fake date might benefit us both."
She stared at him, speechless for a beat, before the first thought that came to her waswhat on earth is wrong with him? For a moment, she seriously considered that maybe he'd lost his mind somewhere along the way, or perhaps he was just that much of an idiot.
"A fake date?" she repeated slowly, her voice dripping with skepticism. "Potter, have youlostyour mind?" She couldn't help the disbelief in her voice as she sized him up, searching for a hint of a joke, but he looked completely serious.
James stared at her for a beat longer, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made Madison's stomach twist. It was as if he were daring her to say no, or maybe he was just too caught up in whatever wild idea was tumbling through his mind. She could feel the weight of his gaze, and it was making the air around her feel heavy, almost suffocating. Her heart skipped, but she shook it off quickly, annoyed that her body was reacting to him at all.
She took a step back, trying to regain some sense of control over the situation. Her arms crossed defensively in front of her, and she shivered slightly. There was something about the way James was looking at her now that made her think he wasn't entirely himself. Maybe all the work he'd been doing lately had finally cracked him. His recent behavior, the hickey she had spotted earlier, and now this? She couldn't believe it. This had to be the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard.
But before she could say anything else, James spoke, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife.
"I know McNair's been bothering you," he said quietly, his expression no longer playful.
Madison's heart skipped a beat, the words hitting her with unexpected force.I know McNair's been bothering you, it was as though someone had flicked a switch in her mind, and suddenly, memories of Carlo flooded her thoughts.
She remembered the letters—so many letters—handwritten in that familiar scrawled handwriting. Letters sent directly to her parents, letters that her mother had kept, tucked away in a drawer as though they were something to be proud of. Madison could still hear her mother's voice, how she'd once sighed happily after reading one of his letters. "Oh, he's such a nice boy, Madison," her mother would say, her eyes sparkling with the naive hope that maybe Carlo would one day be the perfect perfect match for someone who didn't want him, who had never wanted him.
It made her sick.
How could they still not see?
They adored him, just like they had always adored the idea of a pureblood match for their daughter, never mind the fact that Madison had never once been remotely interested in him.
But Carlo hadn't gotten the hint. Not that he had ever needed to, because he was persistent, a trait that Madison had long hated about him. He kept pushing. The gifts, the letters, the constant, unwanted presence. He wasn't justbotheringher; he was suffocating her with every attempt to drag her back into his world, a world that had never been hers to begin with.
And then there were the times when he would corner her in the hallways, in the library, or even in the courtyard—forcing her to talk with him, to listen to his pleas abouthow they could be so great together, howher parents would approve, howhe was exactly what she needed. Every word out of his mouth felt like a chain being wrapped tighter around her chest.
Madison closed her eyes, forcing herself to shut out the thoughts, to push them back into the part of her mind where she'd buried so many other memories of him. Carlo's insistent words, his suffocating presence—they would stay locked away, just like always. She took a slow breath, willing her face to betray none of what was twisting inside.
When she finally looked at James again, her expression was smooth, cool, as if the brief flash of turmoil had never existed. "So, how long have you been planning this brilliant scheme of yours?" she asked, tone sharp with a touch of sarcasm.
James raised his hands slightly, palms out in a gesture of surrender. "Honestly? I didn't plan any of this," he admitted, his gaze meeting hers earnestly. "I only just thought of it now. I needed some help, too." He offered a half-shrug, as if to say he couldn't believe the idea himself.
Madison narrowed her eyes. "So you're telling me you came up with this entire plan—just now? Right here, out of nowhere?"
He nodded, managing a small grin. "Pretty much."
The blonde Ravenclaw eyed him, i'mstudying his face for some clue as to what help he could possibly need from her. The idea of James Potter—a boy who was always so annoyingly self-assured—needing anyone else's help was almost laughable. Then, as she took in the way his gaze drifted to the ground, the answer hit her, piecing together the hints like fragments of a puzzle. A chuckle escaped her lips, low and almost disbelieving.
"There's no way," she said slowly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "You're not suggesting this just to make Evans jealous, right?"
James shrugged, an easy, almost unapologetic motion, and for a split second, Madison could see that familiar, carefree grin of his. "Well," he said with a nonchalant tone, "at least I'm trying something." He met her gaze, his eyes betraying a flicker of vulnerability that made the whole situation feel a bit more real, despite his casual demeanor. "I mean, it's not like I have a lot of options at the moment."
Madison couldn't help but stare at him for a moment, the realization that he was actually admitting to his feelings settling into her thoughts. It was absurd, really. James Potter, the confident, cocky Gryffindor, actually needed her help with Lily Evans? The thought of him floundering like this, for someone else, somehow made the entire situation more absurd—and yet, she couldn't look away.
"Why me, though? Why ask me for help with this ridiculous plan?" She leaned back slightly, folding her arms over her chest. "I mean, we're not even really friends. I'm not sure why you'd think I'd help you with something so—" she paused, struggling for the right word, "—bizarre."
James' eyes flickered briefly, almost as if he were weighing her words. He shrugged again, a simple yet telling motion. "It's nothing personal," he said, his voice steady, though there was a hint of something softer in his expression. "I mean, yeah, we're not exactly best mates, but that's kind of the point. If it's gonna be some weird act, then it's better if it stays impersonal. You know? No expectations. No risk of it getting complicated later." He gave a small, almost sheepish smile, but there was a quiet sincerity in his voice. "It's just for the sake of making Lily see me, that's all."
Madison stared at him for a beat longer, taking in his words, trying to make sense of it all. "So, what, you just need someone to play the part and pretend to be your girlfriend, and then boom, Evans will suddenly fall for you?"
James' grin stretched just a little wider, his confidence returning in full force. "Exactly."
The Ravenclaw prefect crossed her arms, considering the absurdity of the request. A part of her wanted to simply walk away, dismissing his idea as some drunken nonsense. After all, she could catch a faint hint of alcohol lingering between them, adding to the suspicion that he might not be entirely serious.
But something in his expression gave her pause. As ridiculous as the plan sounded, the bored ache of routine gnawed at her—a feeling that had grown stronger in this last year at Hogwarts, with the same endless cycle of studying, responsibilities, and carefully mapped-out plans. Here he was, offering something unexpected, even if it was ridiculous.
"So you're really serious about this?" she asked, the slightest hint of intrigue breaking through her usual composure.
The Gryffindor's grin grew even bolder as he nodded, the gleam of mischief in his eyes sharpening. He could sense a crack in her resistance, just enough to fuel his confidence. Really, what did he have to lose? His reputation might take a hit, but he was on the brink of graduation. If he was going to leave Hogwarts, he might as well do it with a story to tell.
"And besides," he added, his voice dropping just a notch, "I'll keep McNair off your back. No more dodging him in the corridors, no more awkward encounters. You help me, and I'll make sure he gets the message loud and clear."
He leaned back, crossing his arms with a confidence that felt as reckless as the plan itself, waiting to see if the promise of a little chaos could sway her.
Madison found herself hesitating, the absurdity of the idea starting to sink in—but strangely, it didn't feel as out of reach as it should. The thought of stepping outside the predictable confines of her last year at Hogwarts was oddly enticing. She shifted on her feet, feeling that familiar, jumpy sensation rising in her chest—like when everything felt a bit too much, and something inside her just wanted to let go.
But there was still that nagging doubt. "What if we get caught?" she asked again, her voice betraying a hint of hesitation despite the intrigue she couldn't quite suppress. The possibility of getting tangled in something so messy, something with consequences, made her uneasy. Yet, she couldn't ignore the pull of what might happen if they succeeded, if this wild plan actually worked.
James leaned in slightly, a glint of certainty in his eyes. "None of my friends will know about this," he said, the words coming with the ease of someone who had already planned for every possible complication. "We just have to be discreet. Keep it between us. No one else needs to get involved."
He shrugged, as if the stakes didn't concern him at all. "And if it all blows up, if it comes out somehow, I'll take the blame. It's on me, not you." His tone was light, but there was an underlying sincerity in the way he said it—almost like he was offering an out for her, a way to back out without the consequences falling on her shoulders.
Madison snorted, the sound escaping before she could stop it. She wasn't naive; she knew how this would play out. Even if James claimed he'd take the blame, everyone would still find a way to twist it and pin it on her. Especially with how much the other students adored him—he could do no wrong in their eyes. She could already hear the whispers, the rumors. It wouldn't matter who started it. It would be her name that ended up on the gossip.
But as the weight of her thoughts settled in, something in her shifted. The tired, restless feeling she'd been carrying all year flared up again. The endless routine, the expectation, the predictability of it all. She was so damn bored.
She shook her head, letting out a frustrated breath. "Oh, fuck it," she muttered to herself, and then, looking him squarely in the eye.
"Fine, let's do it."