Chapter 3 – Everybody Talks

Hey, baby, won't you look my way
I can be your new addiction
Hey, baby, what you gotta say
All you're giving me is fiction

It started with a whisper
And that was when I kissed her

The return from Rosewood Manor had created quite the awkward and confusing atmosphere between the two. Despite the multiple public displays of affection in the Manor, despite the mishap with the Veritaserum, despite the fact that the whole school was buzzing with gossip about the startling new couple, Sam and Janey seemed to be profusely denying that anything even vaguely romantic had occurred between them.

Not that it had at all been romantic, per se. Passionate seemed more appropriate.

Even still, upon returning to Hogwarts, they seemingly slipped back into old habits. It was one of the most talked about speculations for the students of Hogwarts since the 'battle heroes' had returned. You'd have thought, given the nature of the adventure and the battle the select group of students had just been involved in, meaningless relationship gossip wouldn't have been at the forefront of everybody's eager minds.

Sam and Janey weren't alone, of course. A lot had gone down at Rosewood. Professor Bobbin, the Hogwarts Headmistress, and Professor Roberts, the resident Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, had come back engaged. Romantic involvement between the two had certainly been speculated upon by the Hogwarts populace, but if it had even been real it had all been very hush-hush. That they were now announcing they were to be married was huge, and scandalous, and exciting!

But then, even that was not as shocking as the almost-certified rumours that were going around that James Potter and the Headmistress' daughter, Ebony Snow, whose absence from the returned group was hugely noticeable, had actually run off and eloped.

And then there was the matter of the hugely scandalous affair of Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy. Their relationship had been one of great intrigue over the years, publicly condemned, with scandal and drama thrown in at every turn. The whole school had watched with bated breath at their reunion only a month prior, riddled with anger on her part and full of sly charm on his own. Rumour had it that things had certainly gone down in Rosewood—that a romantic reconciliation in the not-too-distant future was not out of the question.

All of this left the whole school guessing.

But Bobbin and Roberts, though thrilling at first, quickly lost its appeal. Now that it was one hundred percent confirmed that the speculated couple were together, and very serious at that, there was no longer anything fun and mysterious to ponder. And who knew what was going on with James and Ebony. Whether they were really eloping or not would only be made apparent upon their return; nothing was set in stone.

No, there were far more pressing and exciting things happening inside Hogwarts to focus on until those details were revealed.

And even Rose and Scorpius, though theirs was a story that provided eager anticipation, was it really so surprising that they'd get back together? Hadn't that been obvious? It wasn't exactly a huge surprise.

Not like the rumoured snogging sessions between the sixth-year Gryffindor Prefects.

Sam Tyler and Janey Davington were very well known within Hogwarts. Not only because they were Prefects, but because of the dynamics of their personalities, especially when combined. Janey had always made herself very well-known within the school, even before gaining her title. She was loud, she was bossy, she was showy—she often ignited most of the rumours that circulated the school, an omniscient being at the heart of all gossip. Not to mention that she'd dated a rather significant part of the school's male population.

Sam was known for other reasons. He had been caught up in the Rose-Scorpius drama in time gone by, and since becoming a Prefect, he had quickly made a name for himself. He was kind-hearted, polite, well-spoken and well-loved by students of his own house and often others. Not to mention that both he and Janey played for the Gryffindor Quidditch team—just about the closest thing the school could get to celebrity status.

And, of course, given that they were close friends of the Potter-Weasley children—the other closest thing you could get to celebrity status.

But it hadn't ever really been for those reasons that the Hogwarts students had watched those two with deep interest and great amusement. It was almost comical how frequently and dynamically they were at each other's throats. Very loud, very public arguments, the savage and unforgivable ripping apart of each other's relationships, and verbal sparring over even the slightest difference of opinion. They drove each other crazy, always finding new ways to get under the other's skin.

And all of this had led the spectators to form but one simple conclusion: They fancied the hell out of each other.

Sam and Janey's 'would they, wouldn't they' relationship was observed with eager enthusiasm. Would they ever give in? Would they ever admit to what the whole school could see was obvious? That their anger was fuelled only by overwhelming longing and desire for the other. That their pettiness and hostility were merely to mask the subconscious frustration they felt at not being able to give in to their own passion.

But, of course, that had all changed. Rumour had it, they'd had quite the snog on their little mission.

The whole school was eagerly watching. Eagerly waiting for confirmation that there was truth in those rumours.

But Sam and Janey gave nothing away.

Upon their return to Hogwarts, it might as well have been that the week away from the school hadn't even happened. They weren't exactly hostile around each other, but there was certainly no observable shift in the state of their relationship. They seemed to be almost ignoring each other.

And it wasn't just the mindless onlookers from the lower school—even their friends had no idea what was going on.

In fact, even Sam didn't know what was going on. It was all Janey—he was following her lead.

Although he was obviously uncertain and apprehensive about pursuing anything with her, given the nature of herself as a person, and the nature of their entire companionship up until that point, as the hopeless romantic that he was, he very eagerly would have allowed for the assumed changes that one would expect following a pretty heavy snog—several at that—in the way they would interact with each other.

It wasn't like Sam was desperate to have a committed relationship with her or anything—Merlin's beard, the very notion! But he couldn't lie to himself and pretend he wouldn't very much enjoy kissing her again. Maybe he didn't want to be her boyfriend or anything—(good grief, what a task that would be)—but he wasn't sure he wanted to be so bitter and argumentative with her like they had been before. In the aftermath of their furious snogging sessions, he'd expected at least some deviations from their usual interactions.

He'd half-expected casual, subtle change. A coy, shared smile every now and again, sitting together in group situations—maybe even hand-holding.

But Janey was not having it.

She re-distanced herself from Sam the moment they got back to Hogwarts, both physically and emotionally. She had been huffy and standoffish, oddly irritable. Not odd at all for her, of course, but just odd to Sam given the huge thing that had happened between them. She did not return his attempts to catch her eye and smile at her, she made it very apparently clear that she did not like being physically close to him, she did not engage in conversation with him—she barely even looked at him.

It wasn't like he was expecting her to sigh and swoon over him, insist on strolling the castle with her arm in his, batting her eyelashes, or publically declare to the world that he was the apple of her eye and start spouting soppy poetry. That wasn't Janey. That hadn't ever been Janey. That wouldn't ever be Janey.

She was the opposite of Sam in that sense. She wasn't a romantic type.

God, no, he hadn't expected them to all of a sudden start acting like Rose and Scorpius, who had never shied away from being very publically and heart-baringly affectionate, and soppy, and romantic.

But he had expected something to change.

Sam knew what it was. He expected it to be her way of further putting off 'the talk.' That slip with the Veritaserum had forced them both into confessing that they very much fancied the other and that their vicious and savage jealousy of any other kind of third-party interest had been a result of such a fancying. Janey could not pretend otherwise, not when so many people had played witness. Even if she passed off the snogging as being a result of the thrill of victory, she could not pass off the fact that she had admitted that she was attracted to Sam and that she had spitefully broken him and Isabella up because of it.

She was embarrassed, then. Or perhaps she was scared.

Sam couldn't pretend he understood Janey, after all. He didn't know why she was so guarded, why she couldn't be even remotely liberal with her feelings unless it was forced out of her by an incredibly strong Truth Potion, or why she had never fully committed herself to a relationship. Why was she so reluctant? So shielded? So afraid?

And, taking him quite by surprise, Sam found he wanted to know. He truly, deeply wanted to know. He wanted Janey to pour her heart out to him, to show him her deepest insecurities and her most vulnerable emotions. He wanted to know her on a much deeper level—it wasn't just something physical he sought.

After two days had passed since their return, of fierce ignoring on her part, and a sense of obvious distaste aimed at him, Sam had come to accept Janey's behaviour. He had stopped fighting to have some more affectionate interactions with her, accepting that he could not encourage her to do so. And she had let her guard down; she had visibly relaxed once she'd noticed he'd stopped trying.

But that evening, Sam wasn't taking no for an answer. He wanted an honest straight-forward answer from Janey. He wanted her to either say yes, she did want something more from him, or no, she truly wanted to terminate what very brief flirtations they might have had.

Not that 'flirtations' was really the right word for it. Desperate snogging, sure, but it hadn't been remotely flirtatious or romantic. It had just been very, very passionate. A type of energy he couldn't really relate to an emotion. Just a lot of urgency.

Either way, Sam was going to up his game that night. Janey would either take the bait or tell him to knock it off. And then, at least, he'd know. Then he'd at least have a genuine answer.

Janey was already in the Great Hall when Sam arrived for the feast that evening, sitting with the rest of their friends. She looked up briefly as he approached the Gryffindor table, but upon noticing that it was him, dropped her gaze and began furiously spooning at her soup. Tomato, he noticed. Almost as red as her now-flushed cheeks.

Fortunately, there was an empty space next to her. Sam settled himself down next to her with a slight air of triumphant smugness.

"Hi, guys," he said, overly cheerful.

Rose, Taylor, Gwen, Albus, and Mason all regarded him with confused looks in response.

"Hi… Sam," Rose said slowly. She, along with the others, unsubtly looked towards Janey, as though trying to read her reaction. Sam never would have so willingly and cheerfully sat beside Janey pre-snogging.

"Hi, Janey," he said, very loudly, very pointedly.

Even people they weren't sitting with—just other Gryffindor students—were looking up to see what all the commotion was about.

Perfect, Sam thought wickedly. It was public, it was embarrassing—she would almost certainly snap. At that point, he didn't even care. He wanted to provoke her. He almost wanted her to get angry and yell at him. He just wanted to be able to evoke any kind of passion within her given that she had been so cold, so closed-off with him recently.

Janey just scowled into her soup, knowing all eyes were trained on her. She lived for gossip but not when she was at the heart of it. Everybody would be paying fierce attention to her interaction with the boy she was refusing to acknowledge she had any feelings for. She did not reply. She did not even look at him.

Sam continued to grin like an idiot.

He had very purposefully positioned himself so he was sitting incredibly close to her. He wouldn't ever have dared sit so close to her before the Rosewood situation, nor would he have ever sat that close to anyone.

Oh, no, you didn't invade someone's personal space in the way he so blatantly was unless there was a definite shared sense of intimacy between the two. Of which, because of Janey's stubbornness, there was not.

Their knees were touching. Even though she had squeezed hers together to distance herself from him, Sam had leisurely splayed his legs to ensure his and hers were touching. He was reminded of the closeness there had physically been between them after their snog in the window alcove.

Their thighs, too, were just about connected. Again, even though it was just their legs, it felt incredibly intimate. Janey's blatant disgust at the invasion of her privacy spurred Sam on. Would she take the bait though? Would she tell him to get away from her?

She shifted her body very purposefully, creating a small but noticeable inch of distance between them, their bodies no longer connected in any way.

Sam scooted closer to her once more.

Janey moved again.

As did Sam.

Janey was now so tightly boxed in between Sam and Taylor that she probably couldn't have physically moved again. Not unless she wanted to end up on Taylor's lap. And though she was clearly seething, Janey did nothing to chastise Sam, refusing to give in. Nor did she move away any further. She did, however, cross her legs.

Sam angled his body to more of a diagonal slant, his leg running right down the side of hers. Janey did not acknowledge him but continued stirring her soup like it was a potion.

Sam wanted to push her further, to invade her personal space even more. She had to respond. Even if that was to punch him or call him an insatiable pervert, he just wanted a response. It didn't have to be a good one. In fact, at that point, he kind of wanted her to explode.

But leg-wise, Sam wasn't sure what else he could do. Playing footsie with Janey, or running his foot up her leg or something—well, that did seem like an insatiably perverted thing to do. He wouldn't even have done that with a girl he was in a proper relationship with.

He considered, briefly, putting a hand on her leg. Wasn't that something couples did? A sort of protective, loving grip on a thigh?

But that would be pushing it, he knew. And not on her part—on his. Legs touching each other was one thing, but to actually put his hand on her thigh. It seemed too intimate for the stage they were in. It had too many… connotations.

Connotations Sam did not wish to imply to Janey, and especially not with all their friends (and a whole load of near-strangers) possibly being able to see such an interaction.

Still trying to touch her in every friendly, non-perverted way possible, Sam deliberately selected food that was on the other side of Janey so he had no choice but to stretch out in front of her, invading her boundaries once more, practically falling into her lap at one point. All with a very idiotically and seemingly unknowing grin plastered on his face.

Their friends watched with confused, unnerved expressions, trying to figure out exactly what the hell he was doing.

"Anybody want juice?" Sam asked cheerily, once again reaching across Janey to grab a pitcher of pumpkin juice. She pursed her lips but still remained silent.

"Err, no," Gwen said slowly on behalf of them all. "We've all got some…"

Nobody had even touched their meals since Sam's exuberant arrival, all of them transfixed in confusion as they watched his over-exaggerated behaviour. He poured himself a goblet, acting none the wiser.

"Your goblet is empty, Janey," Sam stated, indicating to Janey's indeed empty goblet. "Would you like me to pour you some juice?"

She glared at him in response, her eyes fierce and glowering. Sam felt a rush of triumph; it was a warning. She was warning him not to push it anymore. But, oh, how he was. He was going to make her snap. And he knew he was getting closer.

Although she glared, Janey made no verbal response, so Sam took it upon himself to fill her goblet anyway. He knew she wouldn't thank him, and he knew she wouldn't drink it. God, it felt satisfying.

"So, Rose," Sam said, having placed the pitcher back down. Everybody had slowly gotten over the shock and continued to eat their meals, though not without plenty of trepidation and confusion at Sam's continued cheerfulness. "How's Scorpius?"

Rose immediately dropped her gaze, cheeks blushing. "I don't know," she mumbled.

Everybody looked at her with subtle but uncontained interest. After all, everybody was as eager to know what was going on vis-à-vis Rose and Scorpius too.

"Ah," Sam went on, "I just thought, you know, you might have seen him more since we got back. You got pretty close at Rosewood."

Rose just looked at him, incredulous, with an expression that seemed to read 'What the hell are you doing?'

"Well, I mean—"

"Lots of things went down in Rosewood," Sam went on ominously.

Everybody was trying really hard not to look at Janey.

"Lots of people got… closer."

Sam's gaze flickered very pointedly to Janey once more. Still, even though he could see the effect his taunting was having on her, she did not bite back. Her soup seemed to have become the most fascinating thing in the world to her.

"Any news from James and Ebony?" Sam piped up.

Rose shook her head, still in a daze from how direct he'd been to her about Scorpius. "No," she said simply, no elaboration.

"I think it's nice," Sam went on, "that they're getting married, you know? Bit of a shock," he admitted. "Maybe a bit too hasty. But it's really nice that they're so open with each other. It's nice that they've established exactly where they are in their relationship—they both know exactly what they want."

Janey's spoon clattered from her hand into her bowl of tomato soup, the contents splashing over the side.

"Do you want me to mop that up?" Sam offered.

"No," Janey said fiercely before she could stop herself. Eyes wide, face still red, she cleared her throat, embarrassed by her brief lapse. "No, it's fine," she said more politely. "I was done anyway." She pushed the bowl away to emphasise her point.

Sam's stomach seemed to be doing somersaults. She had talked to him. She had addressed him directly!

Janey reached for her goblet, paused, seemed to remember that Sam had poured her the drink, and then rested her hand on the table, as though pretending she had intended to do that all along.

Janey's hands were small, Sam noticed. It wasn't surprising—she was small, after all. He wondered what it would be like to hold it in his own. Not in that situation—not when he was trying to taunt her—but just in general. What would it feel like to hold her hand and to stroll around the edge of the Black Lake? Something soft, and gentle, and romantic.

Sam reached out his hand to place atop hers without really thinking it through. Despite the blush in her cheeks, Janey's skin was icy at his touch.

Not that Sam got to touch it for long.

"What the hell is your problem?" Janey finally roared, slapping his hand away and actually rising from her seat.

Sam was so shocked that she had actually responded that he realised he hadn't thought through what he would do or say when she finally did snap. He had been so intent on provoking her that he hadn't thought of the next stage. All his cockiness and confidence drained in an instant.

He was scared. He half thought Janey might slap him, or upend her lovingly-poured pumpkin juice on his head, or something equally as demoralising and embarrassing.

"I—err—" Sam stuttered, his face now as red as hers had been. Why, why, had he thought this was a good idea? Why had he honestly thought he'd benefit from riling Janey up? And so publically too?

Janey didn't wait for an answer. She was storming away from Sam before he could even offer the most pitiful of excuses.

Sam's terrified face looked back to the rest of their friends. They all looked as shocked as he had. But not at Janey's reaction—at his blatant attempt to hold her hand. Was he stupid?

Sam broke back out into a huge, puppy-like grin. "Gotta go, guys," he said excitedly, before rising from the table too and hurrying to catch up to Janey. He didn't even care that the whole school was watching him chase after her.

Janey was swift, but her legs were a lot shorter than his. Sam caught up to her in no time, just as she'd departed the Great hall and entered the cold and empty corridor. She was fuming as she walked away, a determined and purposeful stride.

"Oh, so now you'll actually react to me," Sam yelled at her spitefully.

Janey came to a halt, spinning on her heel to glare at him. "What the hell is your problem?" she yelled at him again. "Just leave me alone, Sam!"

"You've been ignoring me for days!" he pointed out to her.

"I don't know what you want from me," she hissed, "but all this stupid touchy-feely, pouring my juice, holding my hand crap—that's got to stop."

"Why?" Sam asked boldly.

"Because it's weird!" Janey insisted in a shrill voice. "I don't like you touching me, or sitting so close to me, or—"

"You didn't mind me touching you in Rosewood," he said spitefully. "In fact, as I seem to recall, you rather enjoyed it."

Janey just spluttered, unable to deny it. "That was different!" she eventually shrieked.

"Why?" Sam demanded again. "Why was it different in Rosewood? Why were you well up for snogging, and touching, and actually admitting you felt something deeper for me, and then as soon as we're back home you can't even look at me?"

"I don't have to tell you that," Janey said through gritted teeth.

"You damn well do!" Sam protested. "You can't use me like this, Janey—you owe me an explanation!"

"Use you?" she repeated. "Use you?"

"You can't just—just—kiss me," Sam spluttered, struggling to explain, "and then ignore me for two days and act like nothing's happened. You have to tell me why. I deserve some clarity from you—I deserve an explanation! You can't just avoid me all the time. You have to actually talk to me."

"NO!" Janey yelled at him, all the pent-up anger from the past forty-eight hours suddenly bursting from her. "I don't—want—to talk," she struggled to say, her frustration taking hold. "Okay? I don't do talking."

"You're telling me," Sam scoffed.

"You're an arse," Janey suddenly snarled. "You know that? You're a real arse, Sam."

"An arse who you made out with three times!" he retaliated triumphantly. "An arse who—and you admitted this yourself—you are attracted to, and who you were jealous of when—"

"Don't you dare say her name," Janey said in a dangerous voice. "And don't pretend like it was one-sided. Don't pretend that I just threw myself at you—"

"You did."

"—and that you didn't also admit that you were attracted to me, and that you'd been jealous when—"

"Don't say his name," Sam growled, just as she had done.

"What do you want from me, Sam?" Janey demanded.

"I want you to talk to me!" he replied in disbelief. Hadn't that been made clear? "I want to know where you stand so I can figure out where we stand. And I don't understand how I'm supposed to bloody do that when you put all your energy into ignoring me!"

"I don't know where I stand, alright?" Janey said impatiently. "I need some time to think about it—I need some distance. What I don't need is you sitting on my lap—"

"I didn't sit on your lap," Sam mumbled.

"—or trying to make me uncomfortable in front of our friends, or holding my hand, or acting like an idiot!"

"I just don't understand why you need the time though," he said in a pleading voice. "Why can't we talk about this now? I mean, we admitted a lot of stuff with the Veritaserum—we've already crossed that line."

"You are just… too much for me," Janey growled. "Alright? You are unbearable to be around. You are draining!"

"Yes," Sam said coolly, "because you're such a pleasant ray of sunshine."

"Then why do you even care so much?" she demanded. "If I'm so bloody unbearable then why are you being so persistent? Just get over me—move on!"

"I'm not the one who used the word 'unbearable,'" Sam pointed out. "It's just that you're… frustrating. You're so back and forth, and you're so bloody stubborn—you deliberately overcomplicate things. This could be easy, you know. For literally everybody else, this would be easy! Why can't you just admit how you're feeling? You either want me in your life or you don't."

"Because that's who I am," Janey hissed, her hysteria making her look delusional. "I'm a bloody nightmare, alright? And you're just going to have to get used to that. You're going to have to ask yourself if it's worth it, and ask yourself why you even care so much."

"I care," Sam started to say, "because—"

"I'm not interested," Janey dismissed. And then, to further his frustration, she turned on her heel and began to continue on her way down the corridor.

Sam chased after her again, ready to explode. "This is exactly what I mean!" he yelled. "You won't let me in. You won't let anybody in."

"Go away, Sam," Janey growled, refusing to stop.

He continued to follow her. "No, that's not good enough!"

"Well, get used to things not being good enough when it comes to me," Janey retaliated snidely. "Save yourself the disappointment."

"The only thing I find disappointing is your attitude," Sam bit back. "Because it's not necessary, and you know it isn't. You're not being difficult because you have to be, you're being difficult because you want to be. It's not necessary, it's just cruel."

"Get used to it," Janey said drily. "If you want to get hurt then stop pushing me."

"Is that a threat?"

"No," Janey yelled, finally stopping and turning to look at him again. There was a fierce fire burning in her eyes—the exact kind of passion Sam had set out to evoke in her. "I am not a pleasant person," she hissed. "Alright? I'm not Rose. I'm not all sunshine, and flowers, and stupid, sickening romance, and if that's what you're expecting—if that's what you're looking for—then you are going to be disappointed, and you are going to get hurt."

"That's not what I'm after," Sam said weakly. "I wasn't suggesting that—"

"We are different people, Sam. Very different people. And if you can't accept that—if you can't handle me being the way I am—"

"I just want you to talk to me," he interrupted. "I just want you to be honest with me."

"I am!"

"No," he growled, "you're not. You are purposefully trying to push me away, purposefully being self-destructive, all the while skirting around the actual issue at hand here. Once again, you are overcomplicating things. Don't think I don't know what you're doing."

"If you're so bloody clever and all-knowing then why do you even need to ask?" Janey challenged. "If you already know everything—"

"That's not what I said! You know that's not what I said."

"Oh, so I'm the all-knowing one now, am I?" Janey asked sarcastically.

Sam threw his arms up into the air as a gesture of defeat. "Oh my God," he declared, "you are impossible!"

"Yeah?"

"Yes!"

"Well, oh my God, you are so irritating!"

"Don't—"

"You are," Janey went on. "You come in here, all high and mighty, acting like you actually care what I have to say, but you don't even know what you want."

"Yeah?"

"Yes!"

Sam lunged, not even of his own accord, his body driving his towards hers. Even though he was nearly a whole foot taller than Janey, his hands went straight to her hair, his mouth straight on hers, like magnets had pulled them together perfectly.

Janey did not protest. She didn't push him away or make any exclamations of shock, surprise, or even offence at Sam's abrupt and aggressive assault on her mouth. She responded like she'd almost expected it—or maybe she was just that skilled, Sam thought.

Fighting the urge to kiss Janey at the height of passion was like trying to fight gravity as you fell off your broom. It was impossible, involuntary. He was starting to question how he had refrained, in all those previous heated arguments, from doing exactly what he was doing then—channelling that passion, that fierce, wild ache she enforced in him, into running his fingers through her hair and violently crashing his lips against hers.

Oh, God, it was like morphine. Sam hadn't fully realised, in those two days of abstinence, how much he had been longing to kiss her again. How familiar, and sweet, and blissful it felt to have her mouth against his, and to feel the heat of her skin burn against him.

Unlike the first three kisses, this was different. Not only their physical position—twice now she'd been hoisted up into his arms, and once they'd been sat in the alcove, whereas now they were both stood firmly on the ground, bringing further dynamics into the mix, such as the height difference—but because Sam was leading.

Twice Janey had initiated it, and the middle time, even though they'd both succumbed at the same time, Janey had still very much taken the lead. But this time, Sam had gone for it. It had been him who had closed the gap, him who had forced himself upon her and seemed to be putting the most energy in. He hadn't predicted how she'd respond. He hadn't had time—it had just kind of happened.

But now that it was happening, Sam was surprised. Half of him had expected Janey to push him away in disgust and storm away from him again. But since she hadn't done that, he'd half-expected her to take over.

Janey's mouth followed his own though. She matched his rhythm rather than trying to enforce her own—his lip movements. If Sam opened his mouth more, Janey followed suit. If he lingered for longer, she didn't fight it. If he sped up, she matched his pace, and if he slowed down, deepening the kiss, she savoured it too.

Did that mean she wasn't enjoying it, Sam internally panicked. If she wasn't contributing anything to the kiss, if she was just following his movements, did that mean she was just sort of… going along with it? Just tolerating it, waiting for him to have his way and for it to be over?

Or maybe, like him, she was experimenting. She was seeing what he had to offer. She was allowing herself to enjoy and savour the kiss rather than focus on orchestrating and controlling it.

Sam was starting to feel well out of his depth. He didn't know what he was doing at all. He couldn't even tell if Janey was enjoying it. Was he supposed to be doing more? More with his hands? More with his mouth?

His hands were still in her hair, gently caressing her scalp in a movement that probably didn't feel too exhilarating or interesting. He felt like he was giving her a massage or something. But Sam was terrified to put them anywhere else. Even venturing below her neck seemed like dangerous territory. He and Isabella had never done handsy kissing. They'd never groped or fondled—they'd only ever just used their mouths.

But there were so many possibilities when it came to Janey. Her back, her arms, her hands, her waist, her hips, her bum, her…?

No, even the thought of touching her in some places terrified Sam so much that he couldn't even consider the notion.

Hair, he decided. Hair was safe. Hair was enough for now.

Janey herself—the only aspect of the kiss she'd initiated herself—had put her hands on Sam's hips. It worked well, considering the height. And it wasn't a clawing, squeezing kind of grip like she'd started to initiate during their snog in the alcove, but more just a place to rest them rather than have them hang down awkwardly by her sides. Their bodies weren't even touching. It wasn't like she was pulling his hips against her, grinding and—Oh, God, he needed to stop envisioning that immediately.

Sam desperately forced his mind back to their conjoined mouths, urgently trying not to think of his hips, or hers, or her body, or grinding, or anything else of the sort.

He kept his hands firmly in her hair, no wandering her body just yet. But then what else to do with his mouth?

Sam was starting to get the hang of fluctuating between different pressures and speeds (and even sort his breath control), Janey still obligingly following his lead, but it all still felt rather conformed. What else could he do? Tilt his mouth at a different angle? Gently bite her lip? Or even, God forbid, put his tongue in her mouth?

Or maybe he needed to move away from her mouth—kiss her in a different place. Earlobes were sometimes popular, he was sure, but that didn't really seem too appealing. Neck, he thought next, and collarbones. That was definitely something people did—he'd seen enough love bites around Hogwarts to know that.

But Sam wouldn't even know the first thing to go about doing that. Knowing his lack of experience, he'd probably just end up biting her. Or maybe that was something you were supposed to do? Maybe that was something some people found pleasurable?

Best not try, he decided, just in case it didn't go down too well. And anyway, the thought of breaking his lips away from hers and putting them elsewhere kind of terrified him too. If he didn't even have the confidence to put his hands on her body, how could he work up the nerve to put his mouth on it instead?

Now feeling disheartened by his lack of skill, and his fear to even try and experiment a little bit more, Sam broke the kiss, dropping his hands immediately. He didn't linger, nor did Janey put up a fight for him to, dropping her hands from his hips too.

They stood staring at each other, a foot apart in distance, chests both rising and falling. Sam's more noticeably, as Janey had clearly built up enough stamina to handle what was, to her, probably mediocre kissing.

She didn't look angry or worked-up anymore—there was no indication that she was mad at him for having done what he did, nor any of the previous resentment in which she'd riled herself up. She just looked a bit vague, Sam thought sadly. Confused, lost… empty.

Had it really been that disappointing? Or was it something else?

What was going on in her mind? Sam longed to know. But to ask would only rile her up again, and he didn't think he could go through any more of that.

Sam racked his brains for something to say. Should he apologise? For yelling at her? For deliberately provoking her back in the Great Hall? For kissing her just then?

Janey just looked at him, her eyes now almost pained, like she was battling some kind of storm internally. She said nothing, she just turned on her heel and walked away from him, calmer than before.

Sam lurched after her. "Janey," he said in a pleading voice, reaching out to grab her shoulder.

Janey reacted so quickly, and so forcibly, that Sam didn't really have time to process what was happening. Within seconds of his hand grasping her shoulder, she was whipping around, using all her body weight to advance on him and back him up against the cold stone wall of the corridor.

Sam expected violence. He expected, given the fierce look on her face, and the strength with which she'd manoeuvred him, for Janey to slap him, or punch him, or even pull her wand on him and hex him for harassing her so much. But rather than doing any of those things, taking Sam by deep surprise, she kissed him.

They'd only not been kissing for about thirty seconds, but oh, God, to feel her mouth back on his, hot and wet, felt like rain after a ten-year drought.

Janey was not being submissive that time. She was not being polite and reserved, and letting Sam take the lead. She was fierce, and passionate, and hungry.

Sam didn't know why. He didn't know why this animalistic energy had suddenly overcome her and why she hadn't exerted that during their gentle (in comparison) snog just moments before. It wasn't like anything had changed in the transition between the snogging then and the snogging now. He hadn't said anything to her; he hadn't done anything.

Had it been a test, he considered. Perhaps her submission in the kiss he'd initiated had been because she wanted to see what he had to offer. And now that he'd done so (and very disappointingly given what she was clearly capable of), she wanted to really kiss.

Or maybe it was a competition. Maybe this was Janey's way of asserting her dominance—she was mocking Sam for his pitiful skills, showing him how inadequate he was in comparison to her.

Or maybe, and Sam could barely process the thought, she had just been so overcome with passion, so overcome with desire for him, that she'd lost her control as easily as he had, and felt there to be no other alternative than to push him up against a wall and kiss him with all she had.

That was laughable though. That she had been so desire-driven by him—that was truly laughable.

Sam did not laugh though. And he did not complain. Whatever Janey's reasoning was for her sudden burst of passion, he wasn't fool enough to even think about questioning it.

She was aggressive, hungry, in her kiss. All those times before, she had certainly been passionate, but not in such a violent way as she was then. It was like she didn't care about pain, or civility, or experimentation, she just wanted to put everything she had into kissing him, not caring for the consequences.

Again, their physical position was different to anything they'd previously explored together. With Sam being pushed up against a wall, it provided an even more exciting dynamic. He was trapped, vulnerable, whilst Janey was dominant, pinning him in. And yet, he liked it. A lot.

Despite the throbbing at the back of his head from where she'd unintentionally slammed it into the wall, or the coldness of the exposed stone that seemed to be seeping through his shirt, or the way the brickwork was digging into his shoulder, Sam felt no pain and no discomfort. He felt only blinding, dizzying ecstasy.

Janey, much to Sam's thrilling delight, was not anywhere as reserved as he had been with his body. Her hands, for one, were happy to roam. Well, her right hand anyway. Her left was secured on one side of his face, half clawing at his hair, half just holding his face still so she could happily work her mouth against his. Her right hand, however, was pressed up against his chest, though constantly on the move.

One moment at the back of his neck, one moment running down his chest, stopping only to grip him and pull him closer. It even fleetingly (though he desperately tried not to think about it too much) brushed over his nipple as she ran it down his chest.

His own hands, Sam had decided to place on Janey's waist. It had felt natural and comfortable given the position of her arms. And it felt safe. Any lower or any higher and he would have panicked, painfully aware that he'd found a safe area between two very obvious erogenous zones. Hips or ribcage might have been pushing it a bit for his own comfort. And any lower or higher than that… Well, he didn't yet have the confidence.

But her waist felt good. He was surprised by how small and supple it felt beneath his hands. Perhaps she was smaller than he'd realised, or perhaps his hands were bigger. But it felt nice.

Not as nice though, Sam thought with great pleasure, as the way her entire body was now pressed up against his. Though he'd been courteous with his kiss, keeping a firm distance between their bodies, only connected by hands and mouths, Janey was not extending that courtesy to her kiss.

With his back pressed up against the wall, Janey's body was pressed up against Sam, sandwiching him against it. Oh, God, if he'd thought it had been nice with just their knees touching, this was something else altogether. Chest to chest, he could feel everything.

And it didn't stop there. Oh, no.

Janey's hips were moving, a gentle rocking fashion, rubbing up against his thigh in sync with every moment of her mouth against his. So graceful, so coordinated.

And very, very pleasurable.

It was one of those moments where Sam was incredibly grateful for their drastic height difference. Thank God it was only his mid-thigh her hips were rubbing against. Had she been about ten inches taller, with her hips aligning with, well… Perhaps it was just as well. Sam was not sure he had the self-control to hold out.

It was clear that neither showed any signs of stopping. Not with as much passion as both were displaying, not with the driving hunger they apparently had for each other's mouths and bodies.

It was just as well that Professor Cepheus Roberts stumbled upon the scene.

As Janey hurriedly removed herself from being anywhere near Sam in a way that may have been deemed unacceptable in a teacher's company, brushing herself down and blushing furiously, Sam just leaned back against the wall, exhausted and dazed. There was no use in trying to hide what they'd been doing.

"Sam," Professor Roberts greeted, torn between amusement, curiosity, and shock. "Janey," he further greeted, offering a polite nod. "A good evening to you both…"

"We, were, uh—" Sam began to say, now starting to realise how embarrassing it all was.

Janey glared at him, silencing him.

"—going back to the Gryffindor Tower," Sam finished anyway, sheepishly and unconvincingly.

"I see," Professor Roberts said kindly, though he was struggling to suppress a sly, knowing smirk. "Perhaps for the best. It might not be deemed proper, as such, for some of the younger students to catch their well-respected Prefects—"

Sam gulped.

"—out after curfew."

"It's nowhere near curfew," Janey pointed out furiously, completely missing the point.

"No," Professor Roberts laughed, "but even so. Dallying around in corridors at even this hour in the evening might not go down too well with the Headmistress."

"You're, ah, not going to tell Professor Bobbin, are you?" Sam asked worriedly.

"You would like me to lie to my fiancée?" Roberts teased.

"Yes," Janey said.

"Not lie," Sam said quickly. "Just not, perhaps… mention."

"We'll see," Roberts said kindly, that gentle smirk still hinting. "It all depends if this... corridor loitering," he said delicately, "is going to become a more frequent occurrence."

"God, I hope so," Sam murmured before he could stop himself.

Janey elbowed him in the ribs. "Believe me, Professor, this is the first time it's happened," she told him sweetly.

"It's not," Sam protested, looking offended. "We've loitered lots of times now!"

"Not at Hogwarts, idiot," Janey snarled.

"No, but in Rosewood, we certainly did a lot of loitering too."

"Yes," Professor Roberts said distastefully, "believe me, we know. We all saw it…"

Janey and Sam were back to furiously blushing again.

"Well, where are we supposed to loiter?" Janey demanded of her professor. "Nobody was here—nobody could see us!"

"I saw you," Professor Roberts pointed out.

"Yeah, well—"

"Janey," he said warningly, "I'm not telling you off, I'm just warning you to be careful. To have a bit more discretion."

"But, well," Sam mumbled, "it's not like other students don't loiter. Why, just because we're Prefects, can't we?"

"I'm not saying you can't loiter," Roberts explained. "Merlin knows you're at that age where you'll want to be loitering, and there's absolutely nothing wrong with it. It's just, perhaps, you might want to be careful about how, exactly, you loiter. Because from what I saw—"

Sam and Janey both hung their heads in shame.

"—yours was not the kind of loitering that's strictly appropriate, given where you are, who you are, and who might have seen you."

"We, ah, we won't loiter like that again, Professor Roberts," Sam mumbled in apology. "Not in this corridor anyway…"

Janey sniggered by his side.

Professor Roberts raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry," Sam mumbled again.

"Look," Roberts sighed, quickly glancing to check there was nobody around, "not that I'm condoning this type of behaviour, but the broom cupboards on the fifth floor are favourite spots for students to loiter."

"Err…"

"As is behind the changing room block by the Quidditch pitch."

"Okay…?"

"And behind that one shelf of books right at the back of the library."

"Right, well—"

"Oh, and sometimes the Owlery—but that's a bit more risky."

"Um…"

"And the Room of Requirement, of course. I mean, that's probably the best, after all."

"Professor—"

"All I'm saying is, there are plenty of places for you to loiter," Roberts finished seriously, "and none of them include being out here in the open, in the corridor right outside the Great Hall. I'm pretty sure that's the worst place to loiter."

"Professor Roberts—"

"Don't let me catch you again," he called over his shoulder, walking away from the red-faced couple.

Sam and Janey said nothing for a while, just watching Professor Roberts' retreating figure until he was well out of earshot and had rounded the corner at the end of the corridor. At which point they both dissolved into snorts of laughter.

Sam was dumbfounded. "Did… Did Professor Roberts just give us recommendations for where to…?"

"Loiter," Janey snorted.

They were laughing so much that Sam had forgotten the context in which they'd even been out in the corridor. All that arguing and yelling that had preceded such furious 'loitering.' He and Janey were laughing, they were at ease—the atmosphere was now light and playful. It felt so refreshing in comparison.

Falling in step together, they began walking down the corridor, headed towards the Gryffindor Tower.

"I bet him and Bobbin have done their fair share of loitering themselves," Janey piped up wickedly. "In fact, I don't even think these are places where Roberts had supposedly caught students, I bet they're just his favourite haunts to take our headmistress for a good snog."

"Nah," Sam dismissed gleefully, "they've both got offices—there'd be no need for them to sneak around."

"I don't know," Janey mused, "might be a way to spice things up a bit. He did seem awfully keen on the Room of Requirement."

It was then that Sam noticed that he and Janey were holding hands. He wasn't sure how it had happened—whether he had taken hers, or she had taken his, or they had both just kind of taken each other's subconsciously—but it made his heart flutter when he noticed.

He wondered if Janey was aware, or whether she was so engrossed in thoughts of Bobbin and Roberts sneaking around like randy teenagers that she hadn't fully realised yet. Once she realised, would she drop it in horror?

Sam decided to put it to the test. He gave a gentle squeeze, just enough pressure to draw her attention to it.

She did so with slight confusion. It was with mild surprise that Janey's gaze flickered downwards towards where her hand was indeed clasped with that of Sam's. But she didn't freak out. She didn't drop it, or break away, or yell at him, or show any distaste at the interaction.

Though surprised, Janey looked quite pleased. She smiled up at Sam shyly, only briefly before looking away in embarrassment.

But their hands remained clasped.

They remained clasped all the way back to the Gryffindor Tower.

Author's Note: Title and epigraph inspired by Neon Trees' 'Everybody Talks'