Chapter 11: A Change of Heart

The Great Hall buzzed with the usual morning chatter, the clatter of plates and the rustle of parchment filling the air. James sat at the Gryffindor table, his breakfast untouched as his gaze drifted across the room. His hazel eyes locked onto Anastasia Gaunt, who was seated at the far end of the Slytherin table. She sat with her usual air of composed detachment, her head bowed slightly as she buttered a piece of toast with precise, almost mechanical movements. Her long black hair fell like a curtain, concealing most of her expression, but James caught enough of her profile to see that she looked... fine.

He told himself that was all he was doing—checking to make sure she was okay. Nothing more.

"Are you going to eat that, or are you just going to stare at the Slytherin table all morning?" Sirius's voice cut through James's thoughts like a dagger.

James blinked, snapping his gaze back to his plate as his cheeks flushed. "I wasn't staring," he muttered, shoving a forkful of eggs into his mouth to emphasise the point.

"Sure you weren't," Sirius drawled, his smirk almost audible. He leaned back in his seat, tossing a grape into his mouth with lazy precision. "What's this, the ninth time? Tenth?"

"It's not like that," James protested, though his voice lacked conviction. He refused to look up, focusing intently on his plate as if it held all the answers to his predicament.

Remus snorted from across the table, not bothering to look up from his book. "You'd think he'd at least try to be subtle."

James jerked, snapping his gaze back to his plate as his cheeks flushed. "I'm not staring," he muttered, his voice defensive. "I was just... distracted."

"By her," Sirius said with a grin, leaning back against the bench and crossing his arms. "It's the ninth—no, tenth time this morning, Prongs. If you're going to stare at Gaunt like she's a bloody Arithmancy puzzle, at least own up to it."

"I'm not staring," James repeated, his voice a touch more forceful. He stabbed at his eggs for emphasis. "I just... wanted to make sure she's okay."

Remus finally looked up, raising a skeptical brow. "Since when do you care if Anastasia Gaunt is okay?"

James hesitated, his fork freezing mid-air. He couldn't tell them the truth—he'd promised. And more than that, he didn't think Anastasia would appreciate him sharing what had happened.

"I don't," he said quickly, perhaps too quickly. "It's just... I dunno, I thought she looked a bit off at the party last night."

"She looked off?" Sirius scoffed, smirking. "She looked exactly the same as always, mate— like she's ready to hex anyone who so much as breathes near her."

James tried to hide his grin, shoving a piece of toast into his mouth to avoid responding.

"And yet," Remus said, his voice dry as he returned to his book, "you can't seem to look away. Fascinating."

Sirius leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table as his smirk widened. "Careful, Prongs. If I didn't know better, I'd say you've got a bit of a thing for her."

James nearly choked on his toast, coughing violently as he reached for his pumpkin juice. "Are you mad?" he sputtered, his voice hoarse. "A thing? For Gaunt? No. Absolutely not."

"Sure," Sirius said with a mock-serious nod.

Remus, seated across from them, raised an eyebrow over his morning tea. "It's true, you know. You used to glare at her like you were planning to duel her after breakfast. Now you just…" He paused, a sly grin tugging at his lips. "…pine."

James shot him a withering glare. "I do not pine."

"You absolutely do," Sirius said, grinning as he leaned forward. "It's embarrassing, really. The James Potter I know wouldn't waste his time on a girl who's probably plotting his downfall as we speak."

"Anastasia's not plotting my downfall," James said, before he could stop himself.

Both Sirius and Remus froze, their expressions morphing into identical looks of intrigue.

"Anastasia, is it?" Sirius asked, his grin widening. "What happened to 'Gaunt' or 'that snake' or whatever else you used to call her?"

"Shut up," James mumbled, his face growing hotter by the second. "It's just—never mind."

"Oh, no, no, no," Remus said, setting his tea down with a pointed look. "You don't get to brush this off. Something happened. Didn't it?"

"Nothing happened," James insisted, his voice rising slightly. He stabbed a piece of sausage with more force than necessary, avoiding both their gazes. "I'm just… keeping an eye on her."

"Right, because she's such a delicate flower," Sirius quipped. "Gaunt needs your protection like Snape needs more grease in his hair."

James's response was cut short by the faintest movement at the Slytherin table. Anastasia had finished her writing and was rising to leave, tucking the parchment into her bag with effortless grace. As she slung the strap over her shoulder, her gaze flicked across the Great Hall, landing on him for the briefest of moments.

Their eyes met.

James's heart skipped a beat, a sharp, unbidden jolt that sent warmth rushing to his face. Her expression remained unreadable, her dark eyes cool and steady, but she didn't look away immediately. Instead, she held his gaze for just a fraction of a second longer than necessary before turning sharply and making her way out of the hall.

James stared after her, his stomach doing an unfamiliar flip.

"Would you look at that, Moony," Sirius said, breaking the silence with a dramatic flourish. "James is a goner."

"I am not a goner," James shot back, but the way his voice cracked at the end did little to support his claim.

"You're absolutely a goner," Remus said, shaking his head in mock pity. "This is almost sad to watch."

James groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I hate both of you."

Sirius patted his shoulder with mock sympathy. "Cheer up, Prongs. You've unlocked a new emotion."

"You're not helping," James grumbled, shooting him a glare.

"Didn't know I was supposed to be," Sirius shot back with a wink. He nudged Remus. "Moony, what do you think? Reckon Prongs has a chance with her?"

Remus didn't look up from his book immediately, turning a page with maddening calm. "With Gaunt?" he asked absently, his tone neutral. "Depends."

Sirius's eyes lit up with mischief. "Depends on what?"

"On whether she decides she's in the mood for Potter's particular brand of charm," Remus replied, finally glancing up to meet Sirius's gaze, his lips twitching with the faintest hint of amusement.

James groaned, dropping his head into his hands. "Oh, for the love of Merlin, can we not do this?"

"Do what?" Sirius said innocently. "Celebrate your newfound interest in the Ice Queen of Slytherin? I think it's adorable."

"Not adorable," James muttered, his ears burning.

"Oh, it's adorable," Sirius countered with a smirk. "Don't worry, mate. I'm sure she'll thaw out in another hundred years or so."

Remus chuckled softly, but there was something about the sound—something knowing—that made James glance up sharply. Sirius noticed it too, his grey eyes narrowing as he studied Remus.

"Wait a minute," Sirius said, leaning closer. "Why do you look like you know something we don't?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Remus replied smoothly, though the slight lift of his brow betrayed him.

"Oh, don't you?" Sirius pressed, his grin widening. "You know something about Gaunt. Something you haven't told us."

Remus sighed, closing his book with deliberate slowness. "It's not a big deal."

"It's huge," Sirius declared, practically vibrating with excitement. "You've been holding out on us, Moony! What is it? Spill."

Remus gave him a sidelong look, as though debating how much to say. Finally, he shrugged. "It's nothing. It's just that we've… crossed paths a few times."

"Crossed paths?" Sirius repeated, his voice a mix of disbelief and mock betrayal. "Moony! Have you been fraternising with my darling cousin behind my back?"

Remus rolled his eyes, but there was a faint smirk on his lips. "I wouldn't get too jealous, Sirius. Anastasia isn't exactly forthcoming with her life story."

"That's not an answer," James shot back, his frustration growing. "Come on, Moony. You can't drop something like this and then not explain."

Remus sighed, though his calm demeanor did little to quell the rising excitement in Sirius. "We've only shared a few conversations," Remus admitted, his tone casual, "And a bottle of dittany here and there. It's nothing dramatic."

"Nothing dramatic?" Sirius echoed, his voice climbing an octave. "Remus Lupin, you absolute traitor. I thought I was your favourite Black!"

"You're not even my favourite Black dog," Remus quipped, earning a bark of laughter from Sirius and a groan from James.

"This isn't funny," James said, glaring at Remus. "You—you've been talking to her? When? How?"

Remus's expression didn't change, but there was a flicker of discomfort in his eyes. "She's caught me in the hospital wing a few times," he said, his voice quiet. "After full moons."

The table fell silent. Sirius's grin vanished entirely, replaced by wide-eyed shock. "She knows?"

Remus nodded. "She figured it out. Didn't take much obviously—she's clever, observant. Didn't press me on it, though. Just... started showing up. We've shared potions a few times for cuts and bruises. That's all."

Sirius stared at him, slack-jawed. "You've bonded over bloody hospital visits? That's... disturbingly on-brand for you, Moony."

Sirius leaned back in his seat, running a hand through his hair as he processed this revelation. "Merlin. I can't believe I didn't know. I mean, bloody hell, Moony, I thought I was your confidant."

"You're being dramatic," Remus said dryly, though there was a softness in his tone.

James stared at him, the jealousy curling in his chest sharper now. It seemed so easy for Remus to talk about it, so natural. But more than that, Anastasia's kindness—her willingness to keep a secret so deeply personal—felt almost impossible to reconcile with the cold, guarded girl he knew.

James frowned, leaning forward. "What does she even talk about with you?"

Remus smiled faintly, his tone careful but teasing. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Sirius gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. "She calls you Remus, doesn't she? I bet she calls you by your first name, unlike the rest of us mere mortals."

Remus's smirk deepened. "She does."

James frowned, leaning forward. "How? She barely looks at me without rolling her eyes. And she doesn't call you anything insulting?"

"No," Remus said simply, a little too casually.

Sirius's jaw dropped. "Unbelievable! Do you know how long I've been trying to get her to stop calling me Black like it's a swear word?"

James, meanwhile, looked torn between disbelief and something else entirely. "She just... talks to you?" he asked, his brows furrowing. "Like it's easy?"

Remus shrugged again. "We have a mutual understanding. Shared experiences and all that. It's not easy, but... it's not impossible."

Sirius, recovering his humour, grinned wickedly and clapped James on the shoulder. "Don't take it personally, Prongs. No one can resist our dear Moony. He's practically a saint. Even my darling cousin isn't immune."

James scowled, shaking Sirius off. "I'm not jealous," he snapped, though the pink in his cheeks suggested otherwise.

"Of course not," Remus said, his voice calm but teasing. "That would be ridiculous."

Sirius cackled, throwing an arm around James. "Cheer up, mate. Who knows? Maybe one day she'll glare at you with slightly less hatred. That's progress, isn't it?"

James scowled, leaning back in his seat as Sirius and Remus's teasing persisted. "Oh, piss off, both of you," he snapped, his tone sharper than usual. "I don't have a bloody crush. What I have is ten years' worth of guilt that I need to clear out."

Sirius raised an eyebrow, his grin faltering into something more skeptical. "Guilt?" he echoed, his tone laced with doubt. "For what, exactly? I mean, not to burst your moral bubble or anything, but you don't owe her anything, Prongs. What's done is done."

James slammed his fork onto his plate, the clatter drawing a few curious looks from the nearby Gryffindors. He lowered his voice, glancing around to make sure no one else was listening. "You wouldn't get it, Padfoot. I've spent years thinking she was like the rest of them. Thinking she didn't care about what happened to you—about what they did to you. And all this time, she was... she was helping you. At her own expense."

Sirius crossed his arms, his smirk now entirely gone, replaced with an expression that was hard to read. "Mate, it's not like she's been a saint all these years. Don't forget, she's given back every bit of what you've thrown at her. She's not exactly been nice, Prongs. I'd even say she enjoyed making your life miserable."

Remus shifted slightly in his seat, his expression neutral but watchful. James glanced at him, looking for support, but Remus stayed silent, his gaze flickering between the two of them.

Sirius leaned forward, his voice quieter now but no less firm. "I'm not saying be harsh to her or anything. Just... don't make this your crusade. It's not your business."

James bristled at that, his fists clenching on the table. "How is it not my business, Sirius? If I've been wrong about her all this time—if I've treated her like shit because I thought she was part of the problem—how is it not my job to fix that?"

Sirius let out a frustrated sigh, shaking his head. "Because this isn't about you," he said bluntly. "This sounds suspiciously like you're trying to make something your business when it's not. What are you trying to do here, Prongs? Fix her? Redeem yourself? What?"

James flinched at the accusation, his jaw tightening as he tried to find the right words. Sirius didn't give him the chance.

"Let me give you a reality check," Sirius continued, his voice calm but cutting. "You're probably not even on her radar, mate. She's not sitting around thinking about you or what you've done to her. I promise you, she's got bigger things to deal with. And if you think showing up and saying, 'Oh, sorry for being an arse,' is going to change anything, then you're more self-absorbed than I thought."

James felt a flush of heat rise to his face, not from embarrassment but from frustration. "That's not what this is," he said through gritted teeth. "I'm not trying to fix her, Sirius. I'm just trying to... I don't know. Make it right."

"And how exactly do you plan to do that?" Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow. "Walk up to her and say, 'Hey, sorry for the years of mutual loathing, let's start over?' Sounds brilliant."

Remus, who had been quiet until now, finally spoke. His tone was measured, but there was a firmness in his words that cut through the tension. "Sirius, maybe that's not fair."

Sirius shot him a sharp look. "What's not fair?"

"Writing this off as James being self-absorbed," Remus said simply. "We all know he's stubborn, and yeah, maybe this guilt thing is overblown, but I don't think he's trying to make it about himself. He's trying to make sense of something that doesn't fit the way he's seen the world for a long time."

Sirius's shoulders slumped slightly, the edge softening from his expression. "Fine. But he still needs to be realistic. This isn't some Gryffindor rescue mission."

"I know that," James muttered, running a hand through his hair. "I'm not trying to rescue her. I just... I can't keep pretending like she doesn't matter. Like she hasn't mattered all this time."

The words hung in the air, heavier than any of them expected. Sirius sighed, rubbing a hand across his face. "Alright," he said, his tone softer now. "But don't expect some big dramatic moment, okay? She's not going to suddenly forgive you or open up or whatever it is you're hoping for."

James gave him a tight nod, though he wasn't entirely sure what he was hoping for. Forgiveness? Understanding? Or maybe just a chance to not feel like such an idiot for getting it all so wrong.

Sirius leaned back, his usual smirk returning faintly. "And for the record," he added, "you're still not her type. So don't get your hopes up, lover boy."

James groaned, shoving Sirius's shoulder. "I hate you."

"No, you don't," Sirius said, grinning. "Now eat your eggs before they go cold. You're going to need your strength if you're planning on brooding all day."