Chapter 12 – Almost Is Never Enough

I'd like to say we gave it a try
I'd like to blame it all on life
Maybe we just weren't right
But that's a lie

And we can deny it as much as we want
But in time, our feelings will show

We almost knew what love was
But almost is never enough

"Tell me, in your own words, what happened between Samuel Tyler and yourself."

"Nothing… happened," Janey gulped, feeling jittery under such hard scrutiny, partially wishing he was there by her side. But he couldn't be, she knew. And she'd have to quickly get used to that. "We just want to be divorced. No particular reason," she finished quietly.

Her lawyer, a middle-aged but greying woman with a pointed chin and a permanent tight-set frown, surveyed her with a penetrative stare. Janey had never felt more uneasy. Wasn't this woman supposed to be on her side?

"So there wasn't another woman?"

"What?"

"Mr Tyler wasn't unfaithful?"

"God, no!" Janey said in alarm, unsure whether to laugh or not. "No, no, of course not. Sam wouldn't ever be unfaithful to me!"

The lawyer nodded, still frowning. "And yourself…?"

"What?" Janey asked suspiciously. "Have I been unfaithful?"

The lawyer merely nodded again.

"Absolutely not!" Janey exclaimed, offended by the notion. She checked herself, feeling embarrassed and undermined by this woman. Janey's mind drifted to thoughts of her co-star. "No," she said quietly. "I've never been unfaithful to him."

"Was he violent?"

"Who?" Janey asked, bringing herself back into the room.

The lawyer rolled her eyes, looking like her patience was wearing thin. Janey did not appreciate this woman's attitude and was struggling to understand why her father had hired her on her behalf.

"Your husband—Mr Tyler."

Again, Janey couldn't help but scoff. "Sam? Violent?" The very notion! Sam was the sweetest, most caring man Janey had ever known. Granted, he had a bit of a temper that he struggled to manage, but he would have taken his own life in preference to laying a finger on Janey. And besides, if Sam had ever, for whatever reason, tried to harm her, Janey would have put him in the ground before he had the chance. She wouldn't have stood for that.

"Domestic abuse is one of the highest factors for divorce," the lawyer recited disapprovingly.

Janey felt self-conscious. Neither she nor Sam were violent people—what did this woman expect?

Janey's mind wandered to that one night a week or so ago when Sam had unexpectedly turned up to collect some of his stuff and things had quickly spiralled. He had been rough, sure—he'd had no qualms about slamming her into the wall. Her shoulder still throbbed from the impact, and her head still had a slight lump from being slammed against the headboard moments later, but she was hardly going to share that with her lawyer. And besides, Janey wasn't sure that was the kind of violence she was referring to.

Janey would rather die than admit that she had thoroughly enjoyed that night, even amongst all the divorce proceedings. And anyway, to try and spitefully make any claims against Sam, she would have to admit that she had been far more violent with him. She had struck him so hard across the face that his cheek had still been red even when it was all over and she'd forced him out, having collected nothing new and now several items of clothing less.

That had been one of the most thrilling nights of their lives together. And they technically hadn't even been together.

Janey's face was now suitably red, despite the fact that her lawyer couldn't possibly detect what wild and kinky reimaginings were going on in her mind.

"No, Sam wasn't violent," she said quietly. "And nor was I," she added before her lawyer could ask. "I told you, it wasn't that anything happened, it's just that…"

But Janey didn't really know how to finish that sentence. That we don't want to be together anymore? Because they both knew that wasn't true.

"It's complicated," she muttered, more to herself than her lawyer.

"Circumstance," the lawyer noted, nodding to herself. "Irreconcilable differences?"

"I don't know what that means," Janey said bitterly.

"You and Mr Tyler were incompatible. You had opposing viewpoints or personalities, perhaps."

"Oh," Janey gulped. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Was he satisfying you sexually?"

If Janey had been drinking something, she would have spat it out. "Sam and I were very happy sexually," she clarified, absolutely mortified. In fact, that had probably been the happiest aspect of their marriage.

The lawyer did not look apologetic. "Some couples drift apart preceding a divorce," she explained. "Often there are months of sexual inactivity—"

"No," Janey interrupted with gritted teeth. "We were never"—she looked away, embarrassed—"inactive." Not even after they'd separated either, it would seem.

"He wasn't satisfying you in other ways?" the lawyer suggested. "He was, perhaps, not fulfilling your expectations as a husband?"

"No," Janey dismissed, dazed. "No, Sam was perfect," she insisted. "He was a wonderful husband…"

Again, the lawyer looked impatient. She raised her eyebrows, whilst Janey blushed.

"So," she said, clearing her throat. "Mr Tyler, according to you, was not unfaithful, he was not violent or abusive, he was satisfying you sexually and fulfilling your needs as a husband."

"Yes," Janey agreed.

"Are you still in love with him?"

Janey was startled by this question most of all—the bluntness with which it had been asked and the lack of emotion that accompanied such a prying question. "I…" she trailed off, dazed, not really sure how to answer.

"Isn't that a little personal?" she asked eventually, laughing uneasily.

The lawyer did not join in, and Janey gulped.

She knew the answer, short, clear, and uncomplicated. What would be the point of lying to her lawyer?

"Yes," Janey said with a slightly hoarse voice.

"Mrs Tyler," the lawyer sighed.

"Ms Davington," Janey corrected quietly.

"Ms Davington, I am struggling to understand why you're seeking divorce from your husband with no conceivable reasons to even want to."

"I don't want to!" Janey yelled, her patience now coming to an end. "My husband wants a divorce. So guess what? We're getting divorced," she practically screamed at the unsuspecting woman. "Isn't that how this works?" she growled. "One half of a couple wants a divorce? You get divorced."

The other woman was not fazed. She continued to survey Janey with those cold, uncaring eyes. "I see," she said.

"I have nothing against Sam," Janey said in a much calmer voice. "Okay? I don't want to… to make any claims against him or anything. I just want a nice, clean divorce, as quick as possible. My daddy hired you," Janey explained.

"Indeed," the lawyer responded. "I've assisted Mr Davington in both of his divorces."

Janey rolled her eyes. Of course she had. Of all the amenities Janey shared with and borrowed from her father, she had never thought one of them would be his divorce lawyer.

"Just do whatever legal stuff it is you need to do to get me through this," Janey sighed.

"Mrs Tyler, might I make a suggestion?"

"It's Ms Davington," Janey said irritably. "And sure. Go ahead."

"You and Mr Tyler have been married an incredibly short time. Just five months, if I'm correct?"

Janey nodded stiffly.

"Is there no chance of saving your marriage? Working on it, perhaps through marriage counselling?"

"No," Janey answered immediately, knowing Sam would never go for it.

"You're still in love with him," the lawyer said slowly.

Janey flinched.

"You show no signs of actually wanting to be divorced. Have you made this clear to your husband?"

No, was the short answer. It had all been Sam's decision—as hasty a decision to get divorced as it was to even propose to her in the first place. Janey was not going to fight him on it. How could she? It would be embarrassing, degrading. She would not plead, she would not beg. He had made up his mind—the sooner they got through it, the better. Janey just wanted to leave it all behind. She needed time for her heart to heal. Why drag it out?

"Is he aware of your standing?" the lawyer prompted.

"My standing is irrelevant," Janey dismissed. "My husband wants to get divorced, and therefore, so do I. Now, please, just do your job. I'll pay anything—whatever it takes—to get this over as quickly as possible."

"I'm afraid it's not that easy," the lawyer apologised. "These things take time. It could be, and likely will be, several months before your divorce goes through—at best."

Janey already knew so much. She and Sam, like with their marriage, had gone through the Muggle route of getting divorced. It was logical, obviously. But Muggles were slow, and they themselves had already discussed the possibility of using magic to speed the process up. A Confundus Charm was all it would require, quick and simple, and they could even get the divorce finalised within a month if they were lucky. Sam could perform them well, Janey thought bitterly.

"Your divorce should be incredibly straightforward," the lawyer went on to explain. "Both of you are willing, and there are no foreseeable complications."

"Like what?" Janey asked curiously.

"Mr Tyler signed a prenup?"

"Yes," Janey confirmed with a nod—one of the only things her father had been insistent on when it came to the wedding. He had no problems with Sam marrying his daughter. In fact, he said he'd pay for the whole thing. Under one condition: Sam agreed to sign a prenup.

He had done so without a single bit of hesitation. He was a simple man with honest intentions. All he'd honestly wanted was to marry Janey; he hadn't cared for her money, or her possessions, or anything of the sort.

The prenup might have been important to her father, but it wasn't to Janey. As far as she was concerned, Sam could have whatever he wanted. She'd happily give him any sum of money, whether he was entitled to it or not. He could have any share of her possessions he so desired. Materialistic she may be, but Janey honestly didn't care. Anything Sam wanted, he could have.

It was just a shame, Janey thought sadly, that the thing he wanted wasn't her.

"And you have no children, I assume?"

Janey's heart fluttered in her chest so much that she thought it might stop. Her throat immediately went dry, her blood cold. "N-no," she managed to say, lip trembling, her whole body feeling numb. "No children," she gulped.

The lawyer looked at her inquisitively but did not pursue it, much to Janey's great relief. It was, after all, an incredibly sensitive subject—a huge, contributing part to her and Sam's divorce.

"And no pets?"

"No," Janey laughed. "I killed our goldfish. Accidentally," she clarified, worried that her lawyer would think her some kind of sadist. "But Sam never really forgave me…"

"Did that contribute to your divorce?" the lawyer inquired, perfectly serious.

"No," Janey snorted. Honestly, what did this woman think of her? That her and Sam's marriage was so fragile and unserious that a dead goldfish could bring it crumbling down?

"Well, that will certainly make things easier."

"The lack of fish?" Janey asked stupidly.

"The lack of children," the lawyer corrected. "I assumed so much, given your age, but you never know."

"Twenty-two," Janey mused sadly, embarrassed once more by such a huge failing at such a young age.

"Did that contribute to your decision to get divorced?"

Janey would have liked to have said yes, but how could she? All Janey had to do was take a look at her friends. James and Ebony had been married at just eighteen and seventeen years of age, and look at them—stronger than ever. Rose and Scorpius, married at twenty, happier than ever and expecting a child of their own. Janey thought of Sam and herself. The problem had not been their age, it had been them.

"Possibly," Janey considered. "We were young, that's true. We are young," she said in alarm.

"And there's no chance of saving your marriage? Or working on it together?"

"No," Janey said, sadly shaking her head. "This is what's best in the long run. This is what we both want."

It was not a complete lie. The truth was that neither Sam nor Janey wanted a divorce. What both of them wanted was to remain with the one they loved, happily married for the rest of their lives. The problem was that neither Sam nor Janey was that other person. They were not compatible. They never had been. Janey was not the Janey she knew Sam wanted her to be, and Sam was not the Sam that Janey wanted either. They had tried, in vain, to make their marriage work for five months, and to no avail. Their marriage had ceased to work the moment they stepped off of that plane after their honeymoon.

There was no point in dragging it out. The sooner it was all over, the better. Though it had been at Sam's request that the couple file for divorce, they couldn't point the finger of blame at either one of them. Janey knew she could not forgive Sam for what he had done, but she also knew he could not forgive her for the things she wouldn't do.

They had both said things and done things they were ashamed of.

"It's complicated," Janey accidentally said out loud again. "We… We just want different things."

The lawyer said nothing for a while, before clearing her throat.

"Mrs Tyler—"

"Ms Davington."

"—is there nothing I can say to convince you otherwise? Are you one hundred percent sure this is what you want? There are things we can do—ways to work around this. And given your financial situation, and your, well, your success—"

"Please," Janey whispered, forcing her eyes shut. She would not cry in front of this woman. She reopened them and looked up at her lawyer with wide, shining eyes, her voice a shaky, desperate plea. "I just don't want to be married anymore. I just want this all to be over."

"I understand," the lawyer said, looking, for the first time during that whole meeting, actually sympathetic to Janey. "I'll see what I can do."

Even Mr Davington, as unobservant and uninvolved in his daughter's life as he was, could not deny the change in Janey during the summer following her sixth year at the magical boarding school. She seemed happier than she'd ever been, and this intrigued him greatly.

"You seem happy," he teased one evening at dinner.

He and his daughter were seated at either end of the elongated, glass table, oddly formal. They had barely spoken to each other as they both absentmindedly twizzled spaghetti around their forks. Janey was unsubtly texting under the table.

"So?" she demanded, avoiding looking him in the eye. "Is there a reason I shouldn't be?"

"No," Mr Davington said. "It's just… you seem happier than normal."

"How observant of you. You've actually decided to invest your attention in me for a change, have you?"

"Janey, please," he said with a disapproving frown. "You know how busy I've been."

Janey rolled her eyes, putting the phone onto her lap and looking her father in the eye. "Which excuse is it this time?" she asked sarcastically. "Work or women?"

"One word of advice," was all Mr Davington said, pushing the spaghetti around his plate. "Don't ever get divorced, Janey."

"No fear of that," she murmured.

"I'm serious. It's messy, it's complicated—it's just not worth it."

"Maybe you shouldn't marry gold-diggers then. Or get married at all," Janey advised scornfully. "Or, you know, you could be faithful to the women you do marry."

"I thought you hated Sadie," Mr Davington said suspiciously.

"Oh, you noticed, did you?"

"Janey—"

"Yes, I hated her. You know I did. But that didn't matter to you, did it? As long as you got what you wanted."

"You're too young to understand," Mr Davington dismissed, shaking his head and looking disgruntled.

"No, I understand perfectly," Janey snapped. "Believe me, I see the appeal in a woman like Sadie. A couple of things spring to mind actually."

"You're not so different to me from what I hear," Mr Davington chastised with a knowing smile. "You've got a reputation, Janey, even I know that. Your commitment issues are even worse than mine are, and—"

"I don't have commitment issues," Janey protested, resenting the implication.

"Have you ever had a serious boyfriend?" her dad asked bluntly.

Janey's gaze dropped to stare at her spaghetti. She was quickly losing her appetite. Her phone buzzed in her lap, letting her know a new message from Sam had come in. She ignored it. "I'm sixteen," she said, avoiding the question. "I don't need a serious boyfriend. I'm young, I'm having fun—it's not 'commitment issues.'"

"Look, I know mine and your mother's divorce was difficult for you, but—"

"Daddy, it was eight years ago, I'm over it," Janey lied.

"—but these things happen," he went on anyway. "Your mother and I, we just weren't—"

"Did you love her?" Janey interrupted.

Mr Davington paused. "Love is a… complicated thing," he said awkwardly.

"Did you love Sadie?"

"Janey—"

"Did you love anybody?" Janey almost yelled, losing her patience and growing ever more aggravated at her father.

Mr Davington paused for consideration. "I love you," he said, proud and paternal.

Janey bit her lip, lost in thought. "Did you love Arietta Capella?"

Mr Davington frowned, confused but also curious. "Who?"

"She's a Metamorphmagus."

"A what?"

"She's Juliette Capella's mother, though she goes by 'Jinx' nowadays."

"Janey, I don't know who these people are."

"Well," Janey said spitefully, "Jinx is your daughter, and given what she's found out from her mother, Arietta is one of the many women you've taken on your yacht. You promised to help her financially. You never did."

Mr Davington let out an exasperated sigh. "Really, Janine? This again?"

"Don't call me Janine," Janey said disapprovingly.

"Janey, whoever this woman is, and what she's claiming, I do not have another daughter. Can't you see that these people have done their research? That they're just going to scam us for money?"

"I believe them," Janey said fiercely. "I've been getting to know Jinx, and I just know, in my heart, that she's my sister. We're so alike, Daddy, it has to be true. Bobbin is convinced. Jinx has been telling me stuff that her mum's told her about you—stuff they couldn't possibly know unless she really knew who you were."

"Like what?" Mr Davington asked suspiciously.

Janey ignored him. "If you'd just meet with her," she pleaded.

"Who? The mother or the daughter?"

"Both," Janey said. "Either one. I don't care."

"Yeah?" he asked. "Well, neither do I. Honestly, Janey, you have to keep your wits about you. I'd remember a woman named 'Arietta.' And why, if she was bearing my child, wouldn't she reach out to me?"

"Would you want to reach out to a man like you, knowing you'd get nothing in return? You'd already backtracked on so many promises to her—by this point, she didn't want anything to do with you. Jinx has told me everything she knows from what her mother's said to her. You'd already been so unreliable. She knew you were cheating on your wife. My mum," Janey added for clarification, a bitter edge of hostility.

"You're making out like I knew this woman on a much more personal level," Mr Davington said in disbelief. "First, you're claiming that she was just some fling I took on the yacht, and now she's someone I've broken countless promises to and impregnated?"

Janey was frustrated. She knew only what she'd heard from Jinx—not the whole story. And even then, Jinx had heard only what her mum had confessed.

"I don't know, okay? You met in the Bahamas or something. She was there on holiday, you were there on 'business.' It was a two-week thing—you were sleeping around, but she was special."

Mr Davington looked less than convinced. Was his memory really so bad, Janey thought desperately. Was he just lying? Had Jinx's mum maybe even done something to him? A charm, or a Forgetfulness Potion, or something?

"She might have been using a different name," Janey said impatiently, "I don't know. You favoured her because she had green hair, but she never told you she was a witch."

Something like recognition flickered into Mr Davington's eyes. He swallowed a lump in his throat and looked away hastily. "A well-thought-out story," he said uneasily.

"And suppose it's true," Janey urged. "If you do have another daughter, don't you want to meet her?"

Mr Davington smiled at Janey. "I already have a perfectly good daughter. What do I need another one for?"

Janey sighed, flattered but irritated. It was clear she wasn't going to get anything more from her father, but she wasn't giving up. Janey had known, the instant Bobbin had revealed it, and even subconsciously before that to some degree, that Jinx was her sister. There was something strong between them, thicker than blood—a connection, of sorts. It just had to be true.

The two of them had been slowly gaining confidence with each other over the month or so that had already passed during that summer so far, trying to piece together the story of their parents' sordid love affair. Sisterhood was treating them well, but they both wanted more. They needed answers, and Janey was going to do all she could to get them from her father.

"If you met her," Janey went on, ignoring his attempt to flatter her, "you'd know in an instant whether you knew her or not—Jinx's mum, that is. You could even do a paternity test. It would be so easy."

"Janey, I don't want to talk about this anymore," Mr Davington dismissed, taking a sip from his glass. "I have too much going on at the moment—I don't need this too."

Janey pursed her lips, sulking.

"You could always tell me who you've been texting so much," he prompted, a sly, teasing smile on his face.

Janey did her best not to look guilty. "Jinx," she said impulsively.

"Oh, really?"

"Why does it matter?"

"You have that look about you," Mr Davington said knowingly.

"What look?" Janey demanded.

He took another sip of his drink. "The look of love."

Janey rose from the table, pushing her plate away and rolling her eyes. "I'm not in love," she scoffed. "And don't you dare even try and talk to me about love!"

"Janey, sweetheart, I was just kidding."

"I'm going to bed."

"Janey—"

"I'm going to bed."

Janey was desperate to see Sam again. She had never craved a specific human being's company as much as she did in that moment. God, it was frustrating. When had this become her? When had she become so dependent, so desperate?

It scared her, but not as much as the thought of not having Sam in her life scared her.

She was so done with playing games. She just wanted to be with him, well and truly.

It had only been a day since she had gone round his house and met his family, and they'd be seeing each other the following weekend at the beach with the others, but that wasn't enough for her. It was so lonely, so empty in that house of hers, with her father working every day, only returning in the evening for a hasty, stilted dinner with her. That was not how Janey wanted to spend her summer. But she didn't want to come across as too needy or clingy.

Screw it, she thought, reaching for her phone. She and Sam had been making general chit-chat all day, but Janey ignored his last comment. Are you free tomorrow? xxx—she texted.

Sam was a slow texter. Janey waited with patience, giving a start when her phone eventually buzzed.

Depends what you want xxx

To see you, she texted back hurriedly. You could come round my house xxx

Was that too forward? Should Janey have suggested they meet somewhere neutral? Was she prepared for Sam to come to her house? Would he be prepared?

My dad won't be in—she added, and then regretted it. She didn't want Sam to get the wrong idea about why she wanted to invite him round to her house. It was no more innocent than wanting to see and spend time with him. But given what had happened at Sam's house—and that had been with his entire family under the roof—would he think she was implying more?

Oh, well, it was sent. The worst that would happen would be that he say no.

Fortunately, he didn't.

Are you sure that would be ok? xxx

If it's ok with you then it's ok with me. I just really miss you. I can send you the address xxx

A few minutes passed. Janey's heart was racing in anticipation by the time Sam's response eventually came.

I'd love to xxx

Janey smiled, hugging the phone to her chest.

"Your mum wants me to have a word with you," Elliot announced, closing the door behind him as he walked into the room he and Sam used to share. "Well, I'm not supposed to tell you that. I'm supposed to act like this is completely spontaneous and that I just really want to have this conversation with you."

Sam was immediately suspicious. What could his mother possibly send Elliot to say that she couldn't just say herself? He put his phone down on his bedside table and ducked out from where he'd been lying on the bottom bunk, texting Janey. He leant against the bedframe, arms crossed. He had a feeling he knew exactly what.

"Yeah?" Sam asked.

Elliot just continued to smile. "Janey's nice," he said proudly.

Sam blushed at the compliment to his girlfriend. "Yeah," he mumbled. "Why wouldn't she be?"

"Well, that's not exactly the picture you used to paint of her."

"I was stupid back then," Sam dismissed. "Naïve. And hey," he accused, suddenly angry, "that really wasn't cool what you said yesterday—about saying her name in my sleep. I don't really do that, do I?"

Elliot gave him an apologetic smile. "Afraid so, Sammy."

Sam was mortified. "For how long?"

"Oh, not that long—only the last year or so that I was here. Before that, it used to be Rose's name."

Sam shifted his weight uncomfortably. "It was humiliating," he accused.

"It's endearing, Sam, and Janey really thought so."

Sam wasn't convinced.

"Just be thankful I didn't tell her during which other activities you say her name."

"Elliot!"

"I'm kidding, Sam. Though that would have been hilarious."

"Look, what did you even come here to say then?" Sam gulped, desperately hoping this wasn't the conversation he thought it was.

"You're seventeen, Sam."

Oh, God, it was.

"I'm going to stop you right there," Sam interrupted, cheeks turning red again. "Because I would rather die than have this talk with you."

Elliot raised his eyebrows. "Well, you can always have it with your mum."

Sam scowled.

"Your choice."

"I don't know what my mum, or you, or anyone else thinks is going on between Janey and I, but I really don't need to have this conversation, Elliot, I swear. Tell Mum whatever it is you need to tell her, and let's just ignore this."

"Nice try, Sammy, but I promised your mum."

"So?"

"So I can't break a promise to Delia. I'm morally obliged."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Fine," he said through gritted teeth. He supposed it was preferable to having this conversation with his mum. "Get it over with then. But know this is going to be the most uncomfortable conversation of my entire life."

"Well, I can't say it's going to be thrilling for me either," Elliot scoffed. "But listen, Sammy—"

"Stop calling me that."

"—you're seventeen. You have a serious girlfriend. I assume you're serious about her?"

Sam nodded. He hadn't really defined it with Janey, but even she'd jokingly let slip that he was her 'first serious boyfriend' and that was all the confirmation Sam needed. "It's not even been a whole month though," he clarified. "So it's only early days."

"Even still, you brought her home," Elliot pointed out. "She's met your family, she's seen your childhood bedroom—it's moving pretty quickly."

"Well"—Sam shrugged—"I care about her."

"Exactly. And, you know, physically—"

Sam winced.

"—it's going to progress pretty quickly too. I mean, I don't know exactly where you and Janey are, but if after only a month you're already bringing her up to your bedroom—"

"Nothing happened!" Sam spluttered. "Yes, okay, Janey was in here with me, but we didn't—we didn't do anything," he helplessly explained.

Elliot remained calm and knowing. "Well, Kayleigh said she walked in on you kissing. And we all saw you on the doorstep…"

"Okay, fine, we were kissing," Sam said, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "But that was all. I can kiss her, can't I?"

"Absolutely," Elliot agreed. "But, you know, kissing will eventually lead to—"

"Oh my God."

"Sam, please, I'm trying to make this as un-awkward as possible."

"It's not working!"

"Sam, you're seventeen years old, you have a serious girlfriend who you locked yourself in your bedroom with, can you blame your mother for being concerned?"

"I was showing Janey my lightsaber," Sam mumbled.

"Is that a euphemism?"

"No!"

"It's not a problem if you are, you know, that kind of serious with Janey—it's perfectly normal—it's just important that you go about it the right way, you know?"

Sam couldn't even look his stepbrother in the eye. This wasn't happening.

"But you can't pressure her."

"I haven't been!" Sam protested. If anything, it was Janey who was pressuring him. "Look, Elliot, I have no interest in… progressing my physical relationship with Janey, alright?"

Elliot looked taken aback, kind of suspicious.

"Okay, well, no, I do," Sam backtracked, blushing slightly. "But just not… for a while. We have one whole more year at Hogwarts, and I don't know if Janey and I will be able to see it all the way through, but I'm not interested in… doing anything," he gulped, "until after that, alright?"

Elliot nodded, impressed. "That's very admirable, Sam. Good for you," he praised.

"I'm not ready," Sam admitted sheepishly.

"That's fine too. All that matters is that, if it happens—when it happens—whoever it's with, that you're both in the same place. That you're both ready."

"I will," Sam vowed. Even if he was so desperately insatiable, Sam knew Janey wouldn't ever do anything she wasn't comfortable with.

"And that, you know, you're safe about it."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Please don't go into detail."

"Do they give you this kind of education at Hogwarts?" Elliot asked, genuinely curious.

"Some," Sam admitted. Though he'd learnt most of what he knew from James Potter…

"Okay, good."

"Is that it?" Sam asked hopefully.

Elliot looked thoughtful for a second. "One more thing—If you are going to go the whole way, don't do it in this house."

"Are you… talking from experience?" Sam asked, alarmed.

"No," Elliot laughed. "No, but I'm just saying—this house is pretty small, and it's always full. Always go to her house."

"Is that what you do?" Sam asked awkwardly. He didn't greatly want to know about his stepbrother's personal life, but he was twenty-six and had a long-term serious girlfriend. Sam wasn't naïve.

"Emma and I have our own place now," Elliot reminded him. "But yeah. And Kayleigh too."

"Kayleigh doesn't have a boyfriend."

"No, but that doesn't mean she doesn't… see people."

Sam didn't ask. In some ways, Kayleigh reminded him alarmingly of Janey. He couldn't ever see her being seriously committed to anyone. Kayleigh, that was—he certainly hoped Janey was turning over a new leaf and wanting to commit.

"I'm going to Janey's house tomorrow," Sam remembered.

Elliot looked surprised. "You are?"

"Yeah, she just invited me."

"To do… what?" he asked slowly.

Sam shrugged. "Hang out."

"Sam, if this is some kind of secret lingo for what we literally just talked about—"

It's not," Sam interrupted, horrified. "No, I'm being serious. She said she missed me," he said, feeling smug.

But Elliot only looked concerned. "And you'll be alone?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are any of your other friends going?"

"No, but we're seeing them on Saturday."

"What about her parents?"

"She only lives with her dad."

"Will he be there?"

Sam's eyes widened with sudden realisation. Janey had been keen to emphasise that her dad wouldn't be in the house. But that didn't mean anything—and certainly not what Elliot was implying. "Well, no," Sam mumbled, "but—"

"Sam, are you sure you and Janey are on the same page? Because, no offence, you're kind of clueless."

"I'm, like, ninety-seven percent that Janey and I are on the same page," Sam said nervously.

Elliot raised an eyebrow. "Only ninety-seven percent?"

"We haven't talked about this kind of thing, alright?" Sam said, feeling flustered. "We've only been together for a month. But I am… pretty sure that Janey's not expecting anything." But why had she made sure to let him know her dad wouldn't be in? And why invite her round her house rather than anywhere else?

Sam was suddenly terrified. Was Janey expecting something from him? Had he maybe, unintentionally, given his forwardness under his own roof, led her to believe he was not only ready but wanted to be that serious with her so soon?

"Should I not go?" he asked his stepbrother, suddenly panicked.

"Sam, calm down, you should go," Elliot instructed. "I don't know what Janey's expecting, but you don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"But I'm so weak. And she's so strong," he said worriedly.

"Oh, come on, Janey is not going to force you into doing anything!" Elliot laughed. "Talk to her about it—explain where you stand—if it does go anywhere you don't want it to."

"I'm not ready!"

"Sam, calm down."

"What if she's expecting it? What do I do?"

"Talk to her," Elliot said calmly.

"And what if I offend her? What if she doesn't want anything to do with me?"

"Sam, you don't even know what she wants. It's probably perfectly innocent, alright? And besides, Janey's not going to break up with you just because you won't sleep with her."

Was that true, Sam wondered. Sam had never not given Janey what she wanted. He gulped. He was just paranoid. He was probably getting way over himself by even assuming that that's what Janey wanted anyway.

"Look," Elliot said with an awkward grimace, "I really don't want to know details but… exactly how serious have you been with Janey? Physically?"

Sam blushed, not wanting to share. "We kiss," he mumbled. "A lot."

"Proper kissing?"

"What does that even mean?"

"You know, tongues and stuff."

Sam didn't say anything.

"Okay, I'll take that as a yes."

"But that's it," Sam quickly assured him. "Well, we hold hands too. And… hug."

"And you've not been"—Elliot looked hugely uncomfortable, unable to look Sam in the eye—"naked with her?"

"No!" Sam yelled. "What—I mean—why would I?"

Elliot looked at him pointedly.

"I mean, like, when?" Sam said furiously. "I've only ever been with her at school—or here. Or the beach," he added as an afterthought.

"Okay, fine, I was just asking."

"I've seen her in a bikini," he said, deep in thought, the image clearly branded into his mind. His eyes widened. "Oh my God, she's seen my nipples," he whispered in horror.

Elliot couldn't help but snort. "Wow, Sam, that's wild," he said sarcastically. "I'll definitely be reporting back to Delia."

Sam glared at him. Another memory came to mind. "Her bikini bottoms came off in the sea once," he reminisced. "Because of a big wave. She screamed a lot. And I had to give them back to her."

Elliot just stared at him.

"But I wasn't allowed to go near her. She made me stand ten feet away and throw them to her."

"That's great, Sam. And completely not what I was asking."

"Well, that's the closest we've been," Sam said snidely. "Alright?"

"Yes, that's more than alright. That's very reassuring."

"Why?"

"You're not at all serious with her," Elliot explained calmly. "She's not expecting anything tomorrow."

"Are you sure?" Sam asked worriedly. Because he knew Janey. And Janey was full of surprises.

"Okay, well have you ever, you know, touched her?" he said awkwardly.

"In… what way?"

"Any way that wouldn't be deemed polite in public."

"Once. Accidentally. I was reaching for the pumpkin juice at dinner," Sam said sheepishly, "and she's shorter than I thought."

"So you've not even been to second base?" Elliot asked, looking kind of irritated by Sam's naivety.

Sam thought back to the day before—how Janey had put his hand on her chest and he'd freaked out and moved it. And then she'd told him afterwards that it was okay for him to act on it. "Err, no. Not unless her thigh counts."

"Of course it doesn't?"

"I slapped her bum once. By accident. The first time," Sam clarified. "The second time I did it on purpose," he said with a wicked grin.

"And has she… touched you?" Elliot asked, ignoring him and looking even more uncomfortable.

Sam cast his mind back. She'd put his head on his lap on the train ride home. "Once she kicked me at Quidditch practice because I hit a Bludger at her."

Elliot sighed. "I've no idea what any of that means, but it doesn't sound sexy in the slightest."

"It wasn't," Sam said stupidly. "It was painful…"

"Okay, Sam, I think this conversation is over," Elliot declared, looking relieved and somewhat irritated. "The good news is that Janey's not expecting you to sleep with her tomorrow."

Sam felt relieved.

"The bad news is that when she is ready you'll probably not even be able to read the signs properly. But good luck with that," he said, slapping his younger stepbrother on the back. "Let me know how it works out for you."

"Elliot, wait," Sam gulped, "I have a question."

"A serious question?"

Sam nodded.

"Go ahead."

"How long were you with Emma before you…?"

Elliot looked thoughtful, casting his mind back. "I met her when I was nineteen—at work. We were good friends for a couple of years. I first kissed her when I was… twenty-one? Started dating her soon after. We were dating for a couple of months before we slept together."

"A couple of months?" Sam asked in alarm.

"Yeah, but we were older. You're still in school, Sam, and you're only seventeen. Me and Emma had known each other for a long time too."

"Janey and I have known each other for six years," Sam pointed out.

"Look, Sam," Elliot sighed, now fully done with this conversation. "It's different for every couple. There are no rules, alright? You just have to figure out what works for you. As long as you and Janey—or whoever you're with—are on the same page, it doesn't matter."

"Okay," Sam gulped.

"Alright, are we done here?" Elliot asked. "Can I report back to Delia and let her know her idiot son is definitely not sleeping with his girlfriend and is so clueless about mature relationships that he won't be any time soon?"

"Well, don't say it exactly like that," Sam protested.

"Sam, seriously," he laughed, "are we done here?"

"Yeah. Thanks… I guess."

"Can I make a suggestion?"

"What?"

"If you ever want to ask any more questions, or need advice, or whatever—go to Kayleigh."

Sam smirked. "Noted."

Elliot returned his smile, opening the door. He left with a nod of his head. "Good luck."

Sam returned to the bottom bunk, feeling a little embarrassed but also kind of relieved. He and Janey were fine, he assured himself. They were taking things at their own pace—everybody else was just making a big thing out of nothing.

He reached for his phone, hurriedly typing a response to Janey's lingering goodnight text. I miss you too. I can't wait to see you tomorrow. Sweet dreams xxx

Author's Note: Title and epigraph inspired by Ariana Grande's 'Almost Is Never Enough' ft. Nathan Sykes