Author's Note: Welcome back, lovely readers! I hope you're all having a wonderful start to the New Year and enjoyed the festive period however you chose to spend it. Thank you for bearing with me whilst I had a brief reprieve, but we're so back, baby!
As you may or may not recall, the last chapter ended with Sam entering the Pensieve to view a specific memory, but let me be clear, as we go into what I consider to be 'Part 2' of Honeymoon Avenue, we are indeed travelling back into the past within the narrative, but this is not taking place within the Pensieve. Basically, the next few chapters you're about to see are not what Sam is reliving in the Pensieve—once we get to that part, it will be made apparent. These next few chapters are for you, the reader, to see the context preceding that Pensieve memory. It probably makes more sense just to read it and understand for yourself though, so... hopefully I've not confused anything too much. Read on, and I hope you enjoy!
M-rated for language.
Chapter 33 – Late Night Talking
We've been doing all this late night talking
About anything you want until the morning
Now you're in my life
I can't get you off my mind
Henry and Isabella Fontayne were twins. They were both raven-haired with stormy blue eyes, kind smiles, and polite and charming demeanours. Academically, amongst their peers, they thrived, which was impressive given that they were both in Ravenclaw—the house already renowned for its academic prowess. Henry, too, was on the Quidditch team, commanding even more awe and respect from his peers.
On top of all that, they were both Prefects. They were revered as fair, respectful, trustworthy leaders, with their fellow Ravenclaw students looking to them to both protect and serve them in a way which upheld their values and enforced the rules in a just, egalitarian way. It had been no surprise when the Headmistress had appointed them to their positions at the start of their fifth year—not to anybody who knew them.
Janey Davington was one such person. She knew everyone.
But as far as students went, they had never garnered particular attention from the school's most eager gossip. They were nice people. Smart. Kind. They weren't scandalous. And so she had never paid them much particular attention. Not even for the first year of their shared Prefect-hood. Janey was far too preoccupied with keeping her eyes on the Slytherin duo, of course; scandal was always rife there.
Not until Sixth Year was her attention drawn to the Ravenclaw twins with a sharp, sudden spike of immediate interest. Not until that first Prefects' meeting in the new September term.
As usual, Janey was annoyed with Sam. They were late, of course, as they so often were. Janey had a tendency to not leave for an event until beyond the time it had already begun, much to her partner's chagrin. Not that she considered Samuel Tyler to be a partner in any sense other than academically. But where he was often keen to arrive ten minutes early, Janey left it to the last possible moment to even consider arriving, so as not to dedicate her time to anything other than what she was immediately focused on. She had neither the patience nor the grace to wait around for anything or anybody.
Sam had been impatiently trying to usher her out the door, whilst she insisted on touching up her makeup. After he had threatened to leave her behind, this had spiralled into an oh-so-familiar shouting match between the two. The rest of the house had grown accustomed to politely tuning them out.
So it was five minutes after the scheduled start of that first September meeting that Sam and Janey finally burst into the room where the Prefects were gathered.
"Finally," someone muttered bitterly under their breath, and Janey immediately shot daggers at the Slytherins, even though she didn't know for sure it had been either of them.
"Not my fault," Sam said through gritted teeth, holding his hands up in defence. He was exhausted from shouting at Janey in the corridor as he tried to hurry her towards the meeting room. She had been snide, and rude, and grated on his every nerve. Scorpius Malfoy taunting him might just be the thing to make him snap entirely.
Janey said nothing as she skipped over to her vacant chair and took a perch as though she was the guest of honour they had all been eagerly awaiting. Sam followed suit in an angry slump.
"Not to worry," the Headmistress said politely, though her eyes said otherwise. "Now that all the Prefects have arrived, we can begin. As I was saying before, I wanted to extend a warm welcome to all our new fifth-year Prefects, and I hope our current cohort will embrace them into our little family here, and, err"—she glanced towards Sam and Janey—"lead by example."
Sam glared at Janey, but she was beaming as she took in her new audience, oblivious to the hatred he was trying to will her to feel. It was then that he felt a set of eyes fall on him. With a nervous prickle, Sam directed his eyes to the source of the staring, surprised to find Isabella's pools of midnight blue trained directly on him.
Isabella Fontayne had barely said a word to Sam over the years. She hadn't even really been on his radar until they'd both been appointed Prefects a year ago now. He felt himself subconsciously sit up a little straighter.
Isabella offered a coy smile, tucking a stray strand of long brunette hair behind her ear. Sam felt a glow of warmth fill his cheeks as he returned the smile. Isabella was incredibly pretty, he realised. It wasn't like he hadn't known that, it's just that it had never been of any particular interest to him before.
There were plenty of pretty girls in the school, after all. Rose Weasley, he considered, being the top of that list. And that was where the issue lay.
Sam had never had a proper girlfriend—had never even been on a date before. He had not, and he'd never admit it out loud should anyone enquire, even kissed a girl. Now sixteen, he was starting to realise he ought to do something about it.
But it wasn't exactly for a lack of trying that Sam had been unsuccesssful in his romantic pursuits. It's just that he had only ever centred his pursuit on one girl, and that was Rose Weasley, and he hadn't been alone.
Dragging his eyes away from Isabella, Sam found his gaze settling on the boy who sat directly opposite him—Scorpius Malfoy. The arrogant blond prick looked entirely disinterested in being at the meeting, and Sam concluded it was pure nepotism that had earned him his spot on the Prefect team as opposed to any actual sense of responsibility and leadership. It was a joke, really, that he had been chosen, given that he certainly didn't hold an ounce of justice or honour in his whole body. He was a deviant, a narcissist, completely reckless, and often downright mean. How could Bobbin possibly think this boy was a good representative for the younger Slytherin students to look up to? Sam had often been a target of the boy's vindictive bullying, but realised rather reluctantly that he wasn't exactly innocent of being reciprocal in that relationship.
Sam had made the mistake of falling for the same girl that Scorpius had. Even if he had been first, he thought bitterly. Maybe Rose would have eventually softened to Sam's pursuit and realised he was a kind, charming, and above all faithful companion had she never caught the eye of the dangerous, chiselled rebel, with his glistening glass-like eyes, and oh-so desirable bad-boy attitude spanning from years of ancestral expectation and Daddy issues.
Or maybe he had always been chasing a girl far out of his league, destined to be no more than a loyal lifelong friend. Rose had been tempted, he knew, once or twice, but Sam felt for sure it was more out of pity and expectation than any real kind of longing. And now she'd experienced Scorpius Malfoy, irregardless of the tumultuous heartbreak he had brought her, Sam knew she would forever be chasing that kind of reckless passion rather than the kind of calm support Sam could offer her. It just hadn't been meant to be.
Even still, Sam could not shake the bitterness he still held for the Slytherin boy. Rose would never be his, and he was truly okay with it, despite always holding a special place in his heart for her, but the fact that Scorpius had been arrogant enough to win her affections and then waste them due to selfishness and greed would forever irk him.
Sam looked to the girl sitting to Scorpius' right. Ebony Darkbrow was perhaps the second most beautiful girl in the school in Sam's opinion, and even more infuriatingly, Scorpius had once upon a time landed her too. Hair as black as night, contrasting with her porcelain skin, Ebony was like something out of a fairytale—the epitome of feminine beauty. Sam had once, briefly, thought Ebony could perhaps break the spell Rose had put him under, but that had been shut down almost immediately after she too had been sucked into Scorpius Malfoy's orbit.
But maybe that fleeting crush had served the purpose it was always supposed to. It was the first time Sam had truly been attracted to a girl who wasn't Rose. Enough to actually consider wanting to pursue something there. And he had never felt that for anybody other than Rose up to that point.
It was like his heart had restarted—a tiny little spark of longing reminding him that it did indeed beat. It was still there; he could still feel something for someone who wasn't his freckled friend.
And now, unless Sam was very much mistaken, his heart was picking up pace once more. All from one, coy smile.
Often times he felt his blood pressure rise, and that was entirely due to Janey, and entirely to do with the fact that she was insufferably infuriating, make no mistake. But as Sam tentatively allowed his eyes to flicker back towards Isabella, he once more felt that surge of elation rush straight through his chest.
Like magnets, her eyes were drawn back to his, and realising they were both staring at each other once more, they broke into shy smiles at almost the exact same time. Any anger Sam might have been feeling due to Janey's antics had melted away. In fact, he was oblivious to the fact that she was even sitting next to him anymore.
Isabella really was pretty. She had a very girl-next-door look about her. Perhaps not the first person you were drawn to when you walked into a room—not a Rose or an Ebony type—but incredibly traditionally pretty. There was nothing overtly striking or distinctive about her, she was simply very nice to look at. She and Henry were, really, the kind of people your mind would conjure should you be asked to think of a generic but attractive British boy and girl.
Sam liked blue eyes very much. Rose had blue eyes, deep like the ocean, which was why he'd probably developed this particular interest, given she had been his first crush. Whenever he thought of blue eyes though, Sam tended to picture baby blue, though he couldn't have said why. But the darker, stormy kind that Isabella had was very enticing.
Sam himself had what he thought were plain, boring, brown eyes. Like most people. He supposed there was nothing really remarkable about his physical appearance. He supposed he wasn't hideous, but he certainly didn't fancy himself something exceptional like a Scorpius Malfoy or a James Potter type.
It was remarkable, really, that a mere drifting thought of the boy seemed to conjure him from nowhere.
Everybody seemed to be in such complete shock and confusion at the oldest Potter boy's sudden appearance that no one really knew how to react.
"What did I miss?" he called out cheerfully as he burst into the room, oblivious to Professor Bobbin's tight-lipped glare.
"We were scheduled to start at seven, James," Bobbin said, forcing what she must suppose was a kind smile, though her eyes emanated condemnation.
"Supposed to," Scorpius muttered under his breath, and Sam felt the boy's scower trained on him and Janey without even bothering to look.
"Well, let's get this party started then," James declared, clapping his hands together as though everybody had merely been waiting around for his arrival. "Where's my seat?" He beamed as his eyes settled onto where Ebony was positioned.
"You may sit with the Gryffindors," Bobbin said quickly, as though desperate to keep James as far from Ebony as possible.
Sam couldn't possibly think why, as it was well-known they were dating anyway. Nonetheless, he gave a polite nod to James as he settled into the empty seat beside him.
And then he did a double take. "Wait," Sam voiced aloud, thoroughly confused. "James, why are you even—?"
"Since when is Potter a Prefect?" Scorpius demanded, cutting across Sam's lingering question, much to the latter's immense irritation. He had literally been in the process of asking.
Bobbin looked forlorn. "Well," she announced with somewhat of a sigh, "I suppose now is no better a time to introduce you all. I mean, I'm sure you all already know who he is without introduction, but James, as he's now in his seventh year, will be fulfilling the role of—"
"Why don't you shut the f—"
"Head Boy," Bobbin growled, silencing James.
Sam involuntarily raised his eyebrows, thoroughly impressed. Quidditch Captain, sure, but as he'd failed to even make Prefect, he had assumed James would be a far cry from Head Boy. What was Bobbin thinking? She seemed distressed by the very notion, but surely she had been the one to appoint him.
She very much looked like she already regretted her decision.
"You've got to be kidding me," Scorpius said, unable to contain his resentment.
James glared at the Slytherin, an arrogant smile plastered onto his face. "As I was already saying, Malfoy, why don't you shut the fuck—"
"James!" Bobbin warned, half yelling, half pleading. She forced a condemning expression that extended to everybody in the room. "Regardless of whatever personal tensions may exist inside and outside of this room, you are all representing Hogwarts. And as such," she continued sternly, "you will all act with decorum, and dignity, and kindness. Especially to each other."
"With all due respect, Professor, I think you've missed the mark with Potter if you expect any ounce of decorum. Head boy," Scorpius scoffed, looking James up and down like he was something dirty. "It makes a mockery of the title!"
"Scorpius," Ebony said sadly, clearly hating the tensions flying between the two people she was closest to.
"Shut up or I'll give you detention," James said smugly.
Ebony now stared at him with equal disappointment.
"There is no way in hell you have any kind of authority to give me detention," Scorpius taunted.
"Well, maybe you don't want to push me and find out."
Scorpius just glared at James, who was now leaning back in his chair like it was a throne. "In fact," he declared, "ten thousand points from Slytherin!"
The new fifth-year Slytherin Prefects looked aghast, whilst Sam struggled to contain his laughter.
Scorpius looked to Bobbin with disbelief.
"James," Bobbin sighed—something she did often—"you can't do that. That's a serious abuse of your position, and even so, there haven't even been any house points awarded yet."
"Good point," James said without hesitation. "Ten thousand and ten points to Slytherin because Ebony is so pretty."
Ebony beamed, sickeningly doe-eyed.
"And then minus ten thousand points from Slytherin because Malfoy is a prick."
Scorpius said nothing, but his jaw was clenched so tightly that Sam thought he might snap a tooth. He was finding this all deeply amusing.
"We will be going over the house points system at the next meeting," Bobbin said calmly, though she looked far from it within. "But we don't have time for it today. And until then, I am instructing that neither the Prefects nor the new Heads can award or deduct any points at all."
Sam wondered if the ten points James had just awarded would be valid or not. He wasn't sure how the magic of the system worked after all. He would have to check the hourglasses.
James and Scorpius were holding each other's gazes with intense but satisfied loathing.
"Which also brings me to introducing our new Head Girl," Bobbin went on. "Jessie Hughes," she announced, indicating to the brunette Gryffindor girl sat by her side.
The girl in question smiled politely, but everybody still seemed pretty tense from James and Scorpius' outbursts.
"Furthermore, swearing of any kind will not be tolerated," Bobbin went on, glaring at James once more. "Like I said, you are representing the school and serving as role models to the younger students."
James raised his hand, still not breaking his gaze away from Scorpius. It was as though they were both engaged in a fiercely competitive staring match, with the first to falter sacrificing any sense of dignity or respect.
"What, James?" Bobbin asked warily.
"What constitutes as swearing, Professor? If you could give me a list…"
"Don't be a smart arse, James."
"Well, see, there we go. I can say 'arse' but I can't say 'prick'? Is that what you're saying?"
"You can't say either."
"You just did! That seems a bit hypocritical, no?"
Bobbin didn't answer. Instead, she looked to be moving the meeting along to its next point, directing the flow of conversation away from the tangent James had introduced.
"Can I say 'fuck'?"
"James."
It was Ebony who had spoken, her tone full of pleading. And just like that, the shell cracked. James was immediately drawn back to earth, realising he was taking it too far. He finally looked away from Scorpius, offering an apologetic smile to Ebony.
"I'm gonna go with 'no'," James said, holding up a hand of apology. "My apologies, Professor. I shall not be saying 'fuck' in the vicinity of any younger students again."
The Gryffindor fifth-years sniggered.
"Thank you, James," Bobbin said, clearly exhausted from his antics but grateful for Ebony's intervention.
"Nor shall I say 'shit', 'arse'—"
"James."
"—'bollocks'—"
"James."
Sam felt it was his time to step in as Ebony was looking distressed once more, and James was ignorant to it at the expense of his own amusement. But he seemed to immediately repent, and he made a gesture of locking one's lips to Sam in response.
Sam suddenly felt Janey's eyes flicker towards him, but he wasn't sure why. Unsure of whether it would be respectful, or more likely hostile, he didn't bother to return it. Instead, he stole one last glance across the room, wondering how Isabella would have responded to this whole pantomime. Sam was suddenly fearful James' antics would cause embarrassment on behalf of the Gryffindors, and especially on behalf of Sam who was well-known to be close to him. But to his delight, Isabella was beaming, as though she had found the whole situation amusing, and perhaps even thought Sam's involvement to be charming.
Well, he could hope. Sam felt a slight blush once more under Isabella's gaze, and he knew from then on, regardless of the hostility Janey, and now Scorpius and James, would be providing to that year's Prefect meetings, he would rather be looking forward to them.
None of these interactions had gone unnoticed by Janey. She could not fathom why, it having never been present before, there was now some kind of… tension between her co-Prefect and the brunette Ravenclaw neither of them had given a second glance to before. And it certainly wasn't the kind of tension that often lingered between Sam and herself—the hateful, irritated kind. No, this was almost bashful and sweet. Stolen glances, desperately trying to communicate something between them with only their eyes.
But there was nothing there. How could there be? It wasn't like Sam was a stranger to Janey. She might not have necessarily considered him a friend, per se, but they were certainly in the same friendship group at least. She knew everybody's business in the school, but especially the Gryffindors, and especially her very own clique! Janey had never once heard Sam breathe Isabella's name before; they'd certainly never interacted with each other outside of the walls of the room where they held their Prefect meetings.
Janey focused her attentions on Isabella, suddenly feeling deeply suspicious and… something else. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but it left her with unease. It was a sort of irritability, a weird annoyance, but she couldn't quite figure out why, or what exactly the foreign emotion was.
Isabella was well-groomed—pretty, Janey supposed, but also kind of plain. She had never stood out to Janey, not as competition, not as a threat, and not as anybody she would particularly like to know. She was a bit of a know-it-all, often raising her hand in classes, always having done her homework on time and performing well in their joint studies. But then again, Janey considered, so was Rose.
She hadn't really dated anyone too high-profile or interesting—the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain in the year above, who Janey had entertained several dates with herself a few years ago, but that was it. As far as she knew.
And Janey knew everything.
At least everything that was worth knowing.
Isabella, as though sensing Janey's penetrating gaze, suddenly looked at Janey. The blonde girl blinked in surprise, realising her eyes had unintentionally narrowed to a glare. Janey folded her arms and leant back in her seat, her gaze casually wandering towards Bobbin who was speaking about the wondrous privileges of the Prefects' bathroom, as though she had not been intentionally staring at the Ravenclaw at all.
But a heat had risen under her collar. Not of embarrassment or self-consciousness about being caught out but that same nagging sensation of… anger? Janey certainly felt some kind of anger, which was often part of her demeanour, but this was slightly different. Something about the pristine brunette waves that framed Isabella's face and that weird little smirk that seemed to sit upon her mouth were very irksome to Janey all of a sudden. She found herself scowling, barely listening to anything Bobbin was saying.
Twenty minutes or so later and the meeting was concluded.
Sam suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious. After all their intense eye contact, he felt he couldn't abandon the meeting without any kind of verbal contact with Isabella, but he was overcome with nervous tension. What if he had completely misunderstood their interactions? What if she had not actually been looking at him with any kind of interest or affection but because he had been so unsubtly staring at her? But no, Sam assured himself with certainty, she had been the one to smile at him. And she had been stealing glances just as often as he had.
Even still, he surely had to speak to her now. But what was he even supposed to say? They had never said barely more than a fleeting hello to each other before, let alone shared a proper conversation. And there was always the possibility that he had completely misinterpreted their stolen glances to be something more than they really were. Maybe Isabella wasn't actually interested in him in any capacity. She certainly never had been before. What could have changed?
"What are you doing?" Janey said suspiciously, giving Sam a start. She was on her feet, preparing to return to the Tower, but Sam was still sitting down in a daze, the only one who hadn't yet risen to leave.
"I—nothing," Sam replied quickly, deeply annoyed. He didn't want to approach Isabella with Janey hovering around him. Why wouldn't she leave? Sure, she and him often walked back to their common room together but more out of casual impassivity than any real sense of loyalty to each other. "You can go," he said, and then, upon seeing the look on Janey's face, immediately regretted.
"I can go?" she repeated shrilly. "I'm dismissed, am I?"
"That's not what I meant," Sam hissed, rising to his feet. Isabella was seemingly making small talk with one of the Hufflepuff Prefects, but she might not stick around much longer. If Sam didn't talk to her now then he might not have the nerve to approach her outside of those walls. And in that case, he'd have to wait an entire fortnight before their next meeting and he was presented with another opportunity.
Janey followed his gaze, and Sam winced. He really, really didn't want her involved. Not before he'd even had the opportunity to ruin his chances with Isabella himself. But when Janey caught even a whiff of a brewing romance, she was all over it. She just couldn't keep her nose out of other people's business, invested in every detail she could possibly gauge.
She would also probably take a viciously keen delight in watching Sam's attempts at flirting and mock him mercilessly.
"What's the interest in that all of a sudden?" Janey asked, and if Sam wasn't mistaken, there was an edge of confrontation.
"She's not a that," Sam bit back, praying for once she'd just walk away. "And I've… always been interested in Isabella," he lied, heart thumping.
Janey looked taken aback, as though she knew he was lying and wanted to interrogate him further.
"Just go, Janey," Sam pleaded, feeling pathetic but unsure what else he could do. He didn't want to talk to her; he didn't want to argue with her.
With a fierce glare that quickly morphed into an attempt at casual indifference, Janey tossed her fringe to one side. "Fine."
Sam relaxed.
"But you'll mess it up."
He scowled at her as she flounced off towards James. Why did she have to be so goddamn irritatingly smug? She knew Sam would be completely in his head now when—if—he spoke to Isabella, which would indirectly cause him to mess it up somehow. Which is exactly what she wanted. Because she was a spiteful, manipulative, vindictive, little—
"Sam?"
Sam almost let out a verbal expression of shock. He had been so intensely staring at Janey's retreating blonde figure that he hadn't even noticed Isabella approach him.
"Isabella," he breathed, trying to calm his racing heart. "Hi."
She was even prettier up close. Her eyelashes were long, and a swirling storm of blues pooled in her eyes beneath them.
"How, uhh, how was your summer?"
Sam was impressed that he had said something both coherent and actually caring. But he felt a burning intensity at his back, and he knew Janey was watching, probably hoping for him to do or say something stupid so she could ruthlessly mock him for it later. Talk to James, he thought irritably, but realised this might actually be to his detriment too. If Janey mentioned to James that Sam was attempting to chat up Isabella then it was highly likely he would attempt to get involved too, and that would be mortifying.
Sam wasn't sure if it was real or just his paranoia but he felt for sure some beads of sweat were starting to form on his hairline. How disgustingly humiliating would it be if he started streaming nervous sweat all over Isabella whilst he attempted to charm her? But now he felt the pressure of time. Sooner or later either Janey or James, or even both, would be by his side and his one shot to impress her free from scrutiny would be over.
Isabella offered that same, coy smile, but now up close Sam could see how the edges of her mouth curled unevenly, one side rising higher than the other. It was an endearing quirk that he was grateful he could study. He would very much like to unlock every little detail of her face in due time.
"It was good," she said sweetly, "although I can't say I wasn't incredibly glad when September rolled around so we could come back."
Sam nodded along, trying to smile in what he hoped was a charming way. "I was exactly the same," he confessed.
"It seems super lame to actively want to come back to school, doesn't it?"
"Not at all," Sam contradicted cheerily. "But then again, I live in a primarily Muggle household, so it's not too much of a stretch to long to come back to the magic of Hogwarts."
Isabella looked interested. "You're Muggle-born?" she asked.
"Well, I'm actually a Half-blood," Sam explained. "My mum is a Muggle but my dad was a wizard. He, ah, he died a long time ago, so I live with my Mum and her husband—my stepdad—and their kids."
Isabella's face fell. "Oh, I'm so sorry."
"Don't be, it's fine. He's a nice guy. Their nine-year-old twins on the other hand…"
Isabella released a small giggle. "I meant about your dad!" She quickly tried to rearrange her face back to a more concerned expression.
Sam grinned. Who said this flirting thing wasn't for him? "It's okay. He actually died when I was two years old. I don't remember ever having met him."
The sorrowful look in Isabella's eyes only deepened. Sam was used to other people reacting with profound sadness when he revealed this harrowing backstory, but he spoke of it without any real emotional connection. It was hard to mourn a man you had never even known. Sam's father wasn't a ghost from his past or a hazy, fading memory. He had never existed to him.
It wasn't like Sam hadn't, in his own way, mourned his father. Mourned the loss of a relationship that should have been a God-given right for every young boy. He had pored over pictures and endlessly questioned his mum in his youth, trying to paint his own picture of a man who was ripped from his life before it had even really begun.
He had acted out. Especially when the twins had been born. It had felt like he wasn't truly a part of their family anymore. When his mum had married his stepdad, they had both taken his name, but as Sam had been a child, he couldn't remember ever being anything other than a Tyler. Even still, married and now with their own biological kids, Sam had started to feel like an outsider in his own home—a home he had only moved into because his stepdad and step-siblings had already lived there.
Whereas it had always been him and his mum, once they joined forces with the Tylers, it was like two families living together under one roof, both reluctantly joined by the marriage of their parents. And when Zoe and Morgan had been born, Sam all of a sudden felt an outsider. His mum was now bound by blood to the Tylers in a way Sam never could be; she was fully integrated into the family, with him forever hanging on by the one bond that tied him to her.
Sam had most sought a connection to his father when he had gotten his Hogwarts letter. For the first eleven years of his life, he had never known of wizardry and magic. His mum had never told him what his father was and had been flexible with the truth regarding Sam's enquiries into the circumstances of his father's death. But that letter had rightly changed everything and opened up his life in ways he could never have imagined. And ways, he thought reluctantly, his mum just couldn't connect to. Not in the way his dad would have been able to. But that was impossible now
Sam would forever be struck with a sense of hollow longing for that relationship, and so he simply often refused to acknowledge it. You couldn't change the past, after all. Far better to simply focus on the life he had, and not the possibility of one he had lost out on.
And anyway, from where he was standing right there in that moment, he was very grateful for the life he was living after all.
"That's so… I can't even imagine what that's like," Isabella said, clearly struggling with how she should offer sympathy for this kind of revelation.
Again, Sam was used to this response. As far as he was aware, he was the only one in his friendship group who had dealt with the loss of a parent. And even then, it was hardly like he had lost someone he had known or had any kind of real relationship with. Rose and the Potters, especially, were often struck with deep sympathy when, if ever, it was brought to attention that Sam had lost his father before he even knew him, perhaps because they themselves, belonging to such a huge family, could not relate in any way. Janey, too, Sam realised with a sudden surprising tenderness, seemed to hold an unacknowledged delicateness when she spoke of her own father within Sam's presence. He wasn't sure if anyone else had ever noticed, and maybe he was reading into it too much himself, but Janey always seemed to be hyper-aware of Sam in those situations and would swiftly direct the conversation away.
She spoke of her father often, and Sam wondered what it was like to have such a close relationship. He supposed it was how he was with his mum. But Janey's mother was alive, he was pretty sure. He just wasn't sure how much of a role, if any, she played in Janey's life. It wasn't exactly a sensitive subject—fatherhood—but he supposed he appreciated the forethought she had to even be thinking of anyone other than herself. Though neither of them would ever verbally discuss it, of course. It was perhaps the only time she ever really showed him any kind of respect.
"Are you… excited for the new Quidditch season?"
Sam silently cursed at himself. How had he let his mind wander to fond thoughts of Janey Davington of all people? He realised he had not responded to Isabella and now she was awkwardly trying to reignite the conversation.
"Oh, yeah, definitely," Sam gushed. "Although, I might be a bit rusty—I haven't been able to practise all summer."
He felt himself starting to sweat again. Was he babbling? Was he being boring?
"Do you play Quidditch at all?" Sam blurted out.
Isabella tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Not even remotely," she confessed, gently smiling. "I'm not very athletic."
"Oh, neither am I," Sam admitted. "I mean, not until recently. It just kind of happened… Me joining the Gryffindor team. And even then, I mean, I'm no James Potter."
"I don't know," Isabella said, a shy blush creeping into her cheeks. "From what I've seen, you look like a natural."
Sam folded his arms across his chest, intentionally mimicking a move he'd seen James execute hundreds of times when he was chatting up girls. Unintentionally, he broke into a grin, brimming with confidence.
"You've, ah, you've been paying attention to me during Quidditch matches?"
Isabella's face flooded with colour, and Sam would be lying if he said it didn't fill him with a deeply satisfying sort of smugness. No wonder James was always so arrogantly cocky; he must feel like this all the time.
"I mean, I—" Isabella stuttered, bashfully averting her gaze. "It's hard not to be aware of all the players," she defended.
"Sure," Sam said, still grinning from ear to ear.
Isabella snorted. "Why are you acting like you don't believe me?"
"I'm not," Sam said, still grinning, arms still folded across his chest. God, this felt good. "And you know," he went on, daringly flirtatious, "if you ever wanted to see the action up close, I could, err, take you out flying sometime?"
"Yeah?" Isabella asked—and she actually looked keen, Sam thought giddily.
He was about to go on, to further test the waters of his newfound charm, when just about the worst thing to happen in that situation could happen. James Potter appeared.
"Now, come on, Sam, you know better than to offer girls a free ride on your broomstick."
Sam's body went cold, all sense of confidence gone in an instant. "James," he said through gritted teeth, absolutely mortified.
Isabella had gone bright red again, and Sam was furious at the Head Boy. He had been making progress! He had been charming, and witty, and he felt maybe Isabella was actually into him, but there was no way he was going to even attempt to flirt with James watching over him.
"Hi," James said to Isabella. "I'm James."
Sam glared at him, but James was barely paying attention, deeply interested in the unsuspecting Ravenclaw girl.
"I know," Isabella said, smiling politely.
"Sam's actually a really great flier. I hand-picked him for the team myself."
Sam's glare turned into a surprised but then paranoid look of suspicion. What was James doing?
"Yeah?" Isabella asked, and Sam wasn't sure if she was genuinely impressed or just feigning politeness.
"Yeah. And I have it on good authority that he's got a huge—"
Sam had never in his life been so grateful to see Janey insert herself into a conversation she hadn't been invited to.
"Why are we still here?" she demanded, appearing at Sam's side. Sam felt a rush of gratitude so deep it almost drowned out the intense feeling of anger he was feeling towards James.
"We're talking Quidditch," James said casually
"I should be going anyway," Isabella said awkwardly.
Sam looked at her with a pleading sort of longing, hoping with all his might that she remembered how funny and charming he'd been before James had come along and ruined everything. Janey too, focused her attention on the Ravenclaw girl, looking her up and down with a cold sort of hostility. Sam was ready for the brief gratitude he'd felt for her to turn to immediate fury if she said anything either rude to Isabella or depreciative of Sam. But to his surprise, she said not a word.
"I'll, err, I'll see you at next week's meeting," Sam mumbled, trying to convey an apology to Isabella with his eyes. He couldn't be sure if she picked up on it though, or if she thought he somehow condoned, or worse, encouraged James' antics.
"Bye, Sam," Isabella said sweetly before she turned on her heel and departed, and suddenly none of it mattered anymore, because a wave of giddiness seemed to crash through Sam's entire body. He watched her go, heart thumping once more, unable to contain the smile that had broken out.
"Bye, Sam," Janey mimicked in a high-pitched tone full of venom. "God, she's got an annoying voice."
The happiness instantly drained from Sam's body. "What is wrong with you?" he hissed, immediately turning to glare at her. Why, why did she have to ruin everything? Every good feeling he ever felt?
Janey looked furious in response.
"And what is wrong with you?" Sam demanded, rounding on James before Janey could engage him in a verbal spar.
The Head Boy blinked in apparent surprise. "What?" he asked innocently. "I was hyping you up! You needed a wingman."
"I absolutely did not," Sam said defensively. "I was doing fine."
Janey scoffed. "Oh, please, it was embarrassing. And anyway, James did you a favour by scaring her off—she's probably the blandest, least interesting person in the whole of Ravenclaw. And that's saying something."
Sam just stared at her, hatred coursing through his body so fiercely he was almost worried a prickle of tears would escape. It was with every ounce of vitriol he could possibly muster that he said his next words, blind fury clouding any sense of dignity. "She could be the most boring person in this school but she'll never be as big a bitch as you are."
"Woah," James said immediately, looking at Sam with a surprisingly authoritative condemnation.
Janey said nothing. She just held Sam's gaze, jaw clenched tight. Sam stared back, unblinking, grateful for the intimidating way he towered over her in that instant. Perhaps if he hadn't felt so angry, Sam would have felt an ounce of regret for how cruel he had just been. Perhaps he would have noticed the almost imperceptible sheen of threatening tears glimmer in her eyes. But he didn't.
"Sam," James said, uncharacteristically serious, "that really wasn't cool. Apologise to Janey."
Sam's fury increased. James was hardly feminist of the year, and he was choosing now to defend a woman's honour? Would he insist Janey apologise to him too? In Sam's mind, he had crossed no lines. Janey was always free to speak to him as rudely and cruelly as she pleased; Sam was just finally giving her a taste of her own medicine.
"No," he said firmly. "Because I'm not sorry."
Sam had never once been on the receiving end of James' displeasure. He normally reserved that for Scorpius Malfoy, and Sam often accompanied him in that. But James was older than Sam, and taller, and broader, and his tongue was much sharper. And Sam did not know how he would fare if James were to use any form of intimidation against him, whether verbal or physical. But he was standing his ground.
Janey did not deserve his sympathy or apologies.
"Sam—"
"It doesn't matter," Janey said quickly, cutting across James.
Sam felt some of the tension release from his shoulders. But upon seeing James' face, felt immediately on edge again. He had never been looked at like that by James before, not with disgust and anger. James and Janey were close, but Sam hadn't realised James would get so defensive of her. Maybe she reminded him of Rose, or maybe her short height reminded him of Lily, his younger sister.
It was foreign to Sam, to even be able to entertain having a bond with Janey in the way James clearly did—something that transcended pure friendship and extended into something more familial. He couldn't imagine feeling fondness for Janey even slightly, least of all right then. That fleeting moment earlier had been a fluke. He had forgotten how venomous and cold-hearted she was. She had never had Sam's best interests at heart; he had merely read into something that simply wasn't there.
"It does matter," James insisted.
To Sam's horror, Professor Bobbin had appeared, the Hufflepuff Prefect Tom by her side. They had clearly been conversing, and Sam realised that the five of them were the sole remaining left in the room.
"Everything okay here?" the Headmistress asked with confused concern.
"Yes," Janey said quickly, and Sam felt a rush of relief.
"No," James said indignantly, and Sam's heart began to race.
What was James doing? Sam really, really did not need Bobbin involved in this. It was humiliating enough—to have his attempts at flirtation not only observed but dissected. He didn't want Bobbin to now look down on him for some casual misogyny.
"I'm deducting five points from Gryffindor because Sam used some choice language," James continued, matter-of-factly.
Bobbin looked surprised, an edge of suspicion about her. "Oh," she said delicately, perhaps unsure whether it was a joke or there was some kind of catch. "That's… good. But I'm still not allowing it until after next week's meeting."
"Fine," James said, and Sam couldn't help but feel a little smug. "I'm just waiting on an apology and then we'll be heading right back to the Tower."
"No," Janey said, firm, flashing a warning look at James.
Sam could not understand why she had taken this approach; he would have thought she'd want to milk the hell out of Sam being forced to apologise to her, but she seemed to want to be free from the situation as much as he did.
"No, it's fine, we're leaving."
James looked upset. "But—"
"We're leaving," Janey repeated with finality.
James fell silent.
Sam shot her a look of gratitude, but she didn't even look at him, and then when he remembered the circumstances, he too looked away. He wasn't grateful to Janey. If anything, he had gone easy on her, and she deserved worse after how continuously ruthless she was towards him.
"I, uh, I need to go," Tom announced awkwardly, clearly unsure of what he'd found himself in the middle of, but sensing there was deep tension amongst them. "Annabel's waiting for me."
Annabel was the other Hufflepuff Prefect in their year, Sam recalled, and she and Tom had been in a relationship for a year or so. God, he couldn't even imagine what it would be like to actually like the person you were co-Prefecting with, let alone want to actively date them.
"I need to see Ebony," James also declared, but Sam noticed he was still regarding him with a disapproving sort of coldness.
An unmistakable look of panic seemed to flit into Professor Bobbin's eyes. "We should all be going—back to your own houses, I might add. It's almost curfew."
James looked annoyed, as this was clearly aimed at him wanting to spend time with Ebony, but Sam was just grateful his attention seemed to have shifted away from him at last.
Ebony was waiting for them at the door, and Bobbin once again re-emphasised that curfew was drawing closer. A look seemed to pass between James and Ebony, a silent message between only them, indecipherable to the rest of the world. Sam felt a pang of longing once more. What must it be like to know someone so intimately that the need for words to communicate was completely superfluous? He wondered if he would ever have that with anyone. Maybe even Isabella. Maybe today had been the first day in a great story that would span years, generations even.
But this thought didn't lift Sam's spirits. He was still seething with hatred for Janey—and annoyance at James for defending her.
But what happened next was so completely shocking that all thoughts and indeed emotions were wiped from Sam's mind in an instant. He had not been expecting to see anybody outside of the now empty Prefects' room, least of all Scorpius Malfoy, and certainly not in the compromising position he had found himself in.
All Sam could see was dark red hair protruding from behind the tall blond figure whose back was to them.
Rose?
Author's Note: Title and epigraph inspired by Harry Styles' 'Late Night Talking'
I won't be uploading next weekend as it's my birthday, so have a second chapter too!