Chapter Six - All About Lily, Nomomom
{ Charlotte Evans }
The moment the Potions lesson ended, Charlotte was out of her seat, stuffing her books into her satchel. She had expected Sirius to press her more on their earlier conversation, but he seemed content with leaving it alone for now—thank Merlin. However, that didn't mean she was free from curiosity. James had been watching her from across the room the entire time, and as soon as she stepped through the door, there he was, waiting for her.
"Oi, Charlotte!" James called out, catching up with her as she headed down the hallway.
She winced, trying to ignore the quickening pace of her heartbeat. It wasn't that she didn't like James, but his constant proximity made her feel like she was walking on the edge of a cliff. And that feeling had nothing to do with their deal.
Well, not entirely.
"I figured we could walk together," he said casually, falling into step beside her.
She couldn't ignore him, especially since he was practically the only person at Hogwarts making an effort to talk to her. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she adjusted her satchel and gave him a sideways glance.
"You figured wrong," she muttered, hoping the sarcasm would make him drop it. "I'm sure you've got other, more interesting people to stalk."
"Oh, I do," he said with a smirk. "But you're my favourite."
Charlotte let out a frustrated sigh, though a small part of her—a very small part—was pleased by the comment. "Lucky me."
James chuckled, unfazed by her attempt to brush him off. "So, any chance you'll tell me where we're going tonight?" Charlotte asked, shooting him a sideways glance. She was grateful for something to talk about other than her sister.
James grinned, running a hand through his already-messy hair. "You'll see when we get there. It's more fun that way."
"Great. Love a good mystery," Charlotte replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"You'll love this one. I promise." His eyes twinkled with that mischievous glint she was getting used to, but she couldn't help but feel that familiar twinge of unease. She wasn't keen on surprises, especially when they involved James Potter and his unpredictable ways.
"And… this involves going somewhere past curfew?" she asked, raising a skeptical brow.
"Past curfew, yes. And warm clothing. And we may need to be… quiet." James gave her a playful smirk.
Charlotte sighed. "I swear, Potter, if you get me into any sort of trouble—"
"Relax," he interrupted, holding up his hands defensively. "No trouble. Just trust me on this."
"Trusting you is the problem," she muttered under her breath, though not entirely without humour. "You and your schemes..."
They turned a corner, and the noise of the other students began to fade. James slowed his pace slightly, as though weighing what to say next. After a few moments, he turned to her. "Have you ever been to Hogsmeade at night?"
Charlotte blinked, taken aback. "Hogsmeade? What does that have to do with anything?"
James shrugged, his casual demeanour infuriatingly nonchalant. "You'll see. I just thought… you might enjoy a little adventure."
"An adventure," she echoed, rolling her eyes. "I'm not sure sneaking out of the castle qualifies as 'adventure.'"
James shot her a grin, as if completely unbothered by her skepticism. "I think you'll change your mind. Anyway, you'll need to sneak out for your Animagus work soon enough. Consider it practice."
She couldn't argue with that. If she was going to go through with the Animagus transformation, she'd need to get used to sneaking around the castle after hours. Still, the idea of being caught gave her an uneasy feeling.
"Fine," she sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. "But if we get caught, I'm throwing you under the Knight Bus."
James laughed at that, his eyes crinkling in amusement. "Fair deal, Evans."
They continued down the corridor in silence, though it wasn't the awkward kind. Charlotte's mind raced with thoughts about the night ahead, and with every step closer to their impending 'meeting,' the more uncertain she felt. There was a lot more to this deal than just helping James with his romantic pursuits.
"Why do you even need my help with Lily?" she asked suddenly, breaking the silence. "I mean, you've been chasing her for years, right? What could I possibly do?"
James glanced at her, his grin fading slightly. He ran a hand through his hair again, this time more out of nervous habit than arrogance. "Well, that's the thing. I've... tried everything. Pranks, jokes, compliments—nothing works. But you..."
"But me?" Charlotte raised an eyebrow.
"You know her better than anyone," James said quietly. "You're her sister."
"And that's supposed to mean I can get her to like you?" Charlotte shook her head. "You don't understand how Lily works, James. She doesn't respond to this... this constant badgering. She hates it."
He frowned, clearly not expecting that. "Then what should I do?"
For a moment, Charlotte hesitated. What should he do? Lily had always been fiercely independent, and if she ever did decide to give James a chance, it would be on her terms, not his.
"I don't know," she admitted finally, her voice soft. "But maybe you should... back off a little. Give her space."
James looked troubled, his gaze shifting to the floor. "You really think that would work?"
Charlotte nodded, though she wasn't entirely sure herself. "I think it's worth trying."
They reached the entrance to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, and James stopped, turning to face her. For the first time since they'd started this whole mess, his expression was serious, almost vulnerable.
"You're a good person, Charlotte," he said quietly. "I mean it. You didn't have to help me, but you're doing it anyway."
She opened her mouth to say something, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, she gave him a small, awkward smile and nodded.
"Yeah, well," she said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Don't get used to it."
James laughed, the moment of sincerity passing as quickly as it had come. "I wouldn't dream of it."
They stepped into the classroom, and just as Charlotte found her seat, she couldn't help but feel that maybe—just maybe—there was more to James Potter than she'd given him credit for.