Author's Note: Apologies that I'm a day late—it was a busy weekend! Uploading schedule will be returning to one chapter every Sunday going forward. This chapter is M-rated for language.

Chapter 35 – Back To You

And I guess you'll never know
All the bullshit that you put me through

I love it, I hate it
And I can't take it
I just keep on coming back to you

In the two weeks that followed their first Prefect meeting, Sam and Janey had little interaction with each other. Both were preoccupied with the individual situationships they had found themselves in. Since their initial conversation, Sam was thrilled to find that Isabella was now actively ensuring she sought him out in their shared classes and sometimes even during free periods when they were both in the library.

Sam would admit to no one that he had been spending far more time in the library than he normally would have in hopes of this very such reason. He wondered if Isabella too had been frequenting the library more than often, hoping they would just so happen to overlap, but he wasn't nearly cocky enough to assume this to be true. She was a Ravenclaw, after all, so maybe her study sessions were genuine.

He found it incredibly easy to get on with her. She was so kind, and charming, and the more stolen moments they shared, the more they slowly got to learn about each other. Sam felt so deliriously happy by this unexpected connection that he was furious at himself for never having looked outside the Gryffindor Common Room before. Who knows how many girls he might have unintentionally overlooked as potential romantic interests because he had been so solely focused on Rose.

Either way, he was certainly making up for it with every new moment they shared.

And everybody could see it too. Rose herself had made comment to a furiously blushing Sam one evening about how happy he had seemed since the new school year had started. He had confessed to her about his ever-growing frequent interactions with the Ravenclaw Prefect, and she had excitedly encouraged him to pursue it further.

The fact that Sam didn't feel at all put off by this suggestion coming from Rose's lips was a huge relief to him. There was absolutely no lingering jealousy there, he thought, and if he had to choose who he'd have wanted to pursue a romantic relationship with right there in that moment, he knew he'd have chosen Isabella without hesitation. He truly considered Rose a friend now. A former crush he would always care for, but no longer held a candle for, much more excited by the prospect of pursuing things with girls he didn't yet know as well as he knew her.

Or, at the very least, one girl in particular. One girl with long, raven hair, and enchanting midnight blue eyes.

Janey, too, no longer felt the bitter pull of inexplicable animosity towards Sam's growing connection with Isabella Fontayne, because she herself was so distracted by her newfound romance with Roman Valentine. Well, she wasn't sure she would call it a romance just yet, given all they'd really done was hang out a few times here and there. Janey had been laying her groundwork as she was accustomed to, but actually, it was Roman who seemed to have been withholding when it came to exploring physical romance with each other.

They flirted a lot, and Janey had made it very clear that she was both single and interested in pursuing something with him, but as charming and eager as he too seemed, she also sensed a slight hesitance. Perhaps, she thought, it was because for her it was nothing to be snogging a guy within a week of the first interaction, knowing she wouldn't be emotionally invested in it. But for him, who had always had long-term meaningful relationships, he was more accustomed to having built up more of a foundation first before he transitioned into the next stage of a potential romantic situation.

Janey couldn't complain, she supposed. Because as much as she very much did want to kiss him, she was truly enjoying all the time she spent in his company. He was funny, and kind, and God, was he easy on the eyes. So long as she could hungrily stare at those perfectly formed cupid-bow lips, she didn't mind having to wait a while for him to finally press them to her own.

It made a refreshing relief indeed for everybody involved to not have to deal with Sam and Janey being much on each other's radars for those first two weeks of the new term. But that all came to an unpleasant halt by the time their next meeting rolled around.

Sam, as usual, was waiting by the door for his blonde counterpart, seething. Why, why, had Bobbin chosen her of all people—she couldn't reliably time keep to save her life. How much of his life had he wasted waiting around for her, he thought bitterly. He was in two minds about just ditching her and going by himself.

But even though this thought crossed his mind pretty much every week, he remained, not-so-patiently waiting for her appearance.

Other than the respect he had for the role, which clearly hadn't extended to Janey, Sam also had other reasons for wanting to have gotten to the meeting early, or at the very least on time—and that was to maximise the time he spent in Isabella's company. Annoyingly, he'd have to sit next to Janey—if she ever even showed—but maybe he could sit nearby to Isabella, or else opposite her so he at least had the luxury of looking at her throughout the meeting.

And, he thought, heart fluttering with anxious anticipation, he had a plan. They had an upcoming Hogsmeade weekend during early October, and Sam was rather hoping to invite Isabella to spend it with him—a date of sorts. He wanted to make it abundantly clear to her that he was romantically interested in her, and as much as he enjoyed the time they got to spend together in the library, some non-academic one-on-one time was greatly appealing to him.

But there was no way they were going to be there on time now, Sam realised with another vigorous surge of vitriol for the still-absent Janey. He'd have no choice but to speak to Isabella after the meeting concluded, and he was fearful about doing so in front of an audience again.

A glimpse of red descending from the direction of the girls' rooms caught Sam's eager eye. "Rose!" he barked, and the startled girl hurried over to him. "Is Janey on her way?" he asked.

Rose just looked baffled. "What?"

Sam did not have time for this. "Can you please go and tell Janey that we need to go," he asked desperately. "I can't wait for her any longer!"

But Rose didn't look any less baffled. "Janey?" she repeated.

"The Prefect meeting," Sam said, annoyed that she wasn't really responding to his sense of urgency.

Rose's eyes widened in realisation, but her face quickly dropped into a frown. "Janey's not in our room," she told him.

"What?"

"No, I was up there alone," Rose said. "I haven't seen Janey for a few hours."

Sam couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You're kidding? She knows we have a meeting tonight. It's always every other Friday at seven."

"Maybe she's already gone," Rose said, but even she looked doubtful.

Sam just swore under his breath. "Do you have any idea where she might be?" he asked in a pleading voice—one last, desperate resort. Maybe, knowing what she was like, Bobbin wouldn't blame Sam for their tardiness. But that was only if he could immediately track her down and, by some miracle, still get there within the next five minutes.

Rose looked sheepish, like she knew something but was hesitant to reveal it to Sam.

"Rose?" he prompted, his patience wearing thin.

"Well," Rose began, "she's been spending a lot of her evenings lately with…"

Sam raised his eyebrows. "With…?"

"Roman," Rose said, her tone for some reason apologetic.

"Who the hell is Roman?" Sam scoffed, having expected her to say James or someone.

"Roman Valentine," Rose explained. "He's the Hufflepuff Keeper—in the year above."

Sam didn't understand why any of this was relevant, but he couldn't get over the name. "Roman Valentine?" he repeated.

Rose nodded.

"What—is he some kind of Shakespearean character? Or a—a poet?" Honestly, what kind of teenage boy was named Roman Valentine, and what was Janey doing hanging around with him? Whoever he was, he sounded like a pretentious arsehole.

"What's a Shakesp—"

"Why is she with him?" Sam demanded, cutting Rose off rather rudely.

Rose's cheeks went slightly pink. "Well, they're sort of seeing each other," she explained weakly, obviously not appreciating Sam's abrupt demeanour. "Not officially or anything, but…" She trailed off, as though she didn't think Janey would appreciate Rose sharing anything about her personal life with Sam.

A fire seemed to have sprung up within Sam at this revelation. He hadn't known Janey was seeing anyone. But then again, he supposed he hadn't really been paying much attention to whatever she had been up to over the past couple of weeks given the ample distraction Isabella had provided.

It wasn't like he'd have been happy with whatever excuse Janey came up with as to why she was late for Prefect meetings, but he especially didn't like that it was seemingly because she was hanging around with pretentious-sounding Hufflepuff pretty boys. God, she was infuriating. Didn't she care about their responsibilities at all?

"If you do happen to see her—" Sam said furiously, quite forgetting it was Janey he was angry with, not Rose, "—if she's ever done frolicking around with poncy Hufflepuff Keepers, then tell her I've gone to the meeting already. And," he added, having been about to turn on his heel and storm from the room, "that I am never waiting for her again."

He didn't even allow Rose a chance to respond before he had gone, his fury at Janey spurring him towards the Prefects' meeting room with great speed.

When Sam finally arrived, more towards ten minutes late than the five he had been hoping he could still wrangle an excuse up for, he was flushed with heat in more ways than one.

"Sam," Bobbin said in surprise, as he headed towards an empty seat.

"I'm sorry, Professor," he said quickly, feeling the scrutiny of all pairs of eyes in the room trained on him. Even the comfort of knowing Isabella was surely looking at him didn't help. He was certain he must look a mess, and he inwardly cursed Janey all over again. Oh, well, he thought, at least he had showed.

"This is becoming a bit of a habit for the sixth-year Gryffindors," Bobbin said with her lips set into a tight line of disapproval.

"It was Janey's fault," Sam said automatically, refusing to be dragged down by association.

"Well, where is Janey?" Bobbin asked coldly.

Sam was not grateful for the Headmistress' lack of warmth towards him, feeling it completely undeserved. "I don't know," he said through gritted teeth. "I waited for her," he explained. "And I have no idea where she is."

"Well," Bobbin went on unforgivingly, "without a notice of sickness or some other pre-approved reason for absence, I'm afraid I'll have to bestow a detention."

That suited Sam fine, he thought darkly. In fact, he was glad for it—it's what Janey deserved. Maybe it was the kick she needed to actually start taking their Prefect responsibilities seriously.

"To both of you," Bobbin clarified.

Sam felt his heart sink. "What?" he asked in disbelief, certain he'd misunderstood.

"You are a team, after all," Bobbin said.

"But," Sam spluttered. "But that's—that's not—"

Bobbin stared at him, daring him to challenge her further. Sam was going to kill Janey whenever he next saw her. He decided against arguing with the Headmistress, painfully aware of how many sets of eyes were trained on him, Isabella Fontayne and Scorpius Malfoy included. Instead, he slumped down in his chair, defeated, but not without throwing her a dirty glare to let her know of his displeasure.

Bobbin made no further comment, proceeding with the meeting as though Sam weren't wishing a thousand hexes upon her.

By the time the meeting had concluded, Sam was feeling no warmer towards either Bobbin or Janey, the latter of whom had failed to show for the entirety of the meeting. He couldn't even feel a sick sense of delight at the thought of informing her she'd be receiving a detention for her absence, because he too would be suffering the consequences of her selfishness.

"Sam," a tentative voice said behind him.

"What?" Sam snapped in response, immediately softening when he realised who it was. "Isabella," he said with a nervous gulp. "I'm so sorry—I didn't realise it was you."

She didn't look dissuaded by his initial hostility, her eyes sparkling with kindness at finding herself in conversation with him once more.

Sam felt instantly lighter, almost all traces of anger for Janey slipping away. He offered her an apologetic smile, and she returned her own with genuine warmth.

"Can I walk you back to the Ravenclaw Tower?" he offered, not wishing to hang around and run the risk of unsolicited ears overhearing his attempts to ask her on a date. He was sure he had seen Scorpius lurking nearby.

Instead of answering straight away, which only made Sam worry she was about to reject even this request, Isabella's gaze flickered towards her twin, who was waiting by the door for her.

Sam silently cursed himself. Of course she'd be walking back with Henry, and he definitely didn't want to attempt to initiate a romantic setup with him there too. As kind as he seemed, Sam couldn't be sure he wouldn't be a competitive, overprotective brother-type, and he wasn't nearly in the mood to deal with that given how riled up he'd already been that evening.

But to his delighted surprise, Isabella seemed to communicate something with Henry via eye contact alone, and after he gave a small nod, he departed the room alone. Sam felt an instant rush of relief.

"I'd love that," Isabella announced, turning back to beam at Sam.

"Great."

Sam allowed a few moment's delay in order to give Henry enough of a headstart to prevent them all from running into each other in the corridors anyway, before he and Isabella, side by side, proceeded towards her common room.

Sam was immediately more relaxed in her presence than he had been all evening and wondered if he should be so daring as to take hold of her hand. Ultimately, he decided against it, unsure what the protocol was for such romantic interactions. Was he supposed to ask—or was he supposed to be bold and just go for it? He decided it wasn't worth the hassle, and really, he was already taking a big step by asking her to spend the Hogsmeade trip with him. One step at a time, he assured himself.

"I thought it was super unfair," Isabella was telling him as they ambled through the castle, their paces evenly matched. "Bobbin giving you detention."

"Oh." Sam's stomach immediately dropped at the reminder, but he quickly brushed it off.

"I mean, it's not like you did anything wrong."

"Right?" Sam asked eagerly, grateful to have some support. "You're so lucky you actually have a decent partner—as a co-Prefect, I mean," he added hastily, knowing the word 'partner' might conjure other connotations.

Come to think of it, Sam didn't actually know for certain that Isabella was even single, and suddenly a new fear had infiltrated his mind. Oh, God, what if he had been misreading this entire situation?—he panicked. What if Isabella actually already had a boyfriend—a big, Quidditch-playing brute who could surely outdo Sam in every conceivable way. Sam had already been at the mercy of an angry boyfriend when he'd idiotically tried to fight Scorpius for Rose's affections, and even though he'd rather come out of that better than the Slytherin boy physically, (although that had almost definitely been down to James' intervention), he had lost emotionally. It had been emasculating and humiliating, and he wasn't going to compete again.

What if what he'd perceived as mutual attraction was really just him obliviously putting her into uncomfortable situations, and she was just too polite to discourage him.

But, Sam reasoned, would Isabella have really been as openly flirtatious with him if she already had a guy waiting for her. Would she have even allowed him to walk her back to her common room? Surely not. Not when she could have easily shut him down by explaining she would be returning with her brother.

Sam wasn't one to be cocky, but he was sure it was a mutual attraction between the two of them.

"Where even was Janey tonight?" Isabella asked.

Sam scowled at the mention of her name, the fire in the pit of his belly sparking up once more. "I've no idea," he said dispassionately. "Apparently cavorting with some Hufflepuff Quidditch player."

Isabella coolly raised her eyebrows. "I really don't understand why Bobbin made her a Prefect of all people. It's like—she has absolutely no respect for the role."

"She has no respect for anybody other than herself," Sam agreed bitterly.

"I'm sorry," Isabella said, and when she looked at him, her eyes shone with kind sincerity. "That you have to deal with that all the time. You deserve better."

Sam felt a rush of warmth for the Ravenclaw girl. God, she was so nice. Having spent so much time around Janey seemed to have tainted his view of how normal girls conducted themselves. It was pleasant to find they were not all just narcissistic, infuriating demons who were surely trying to ruin his life.

"What?" Isabella laughed, noticing that Sam had been staring at her with twinkling eyes and a small smile.

"I just—" Sam said breathlessly. "I can't believe how nice you are."

Isabella blushed at his words, clearly charmed. She looked away, like she was embarrassed but thrilled.

They had just about reached the Ravenclaw Tower, and Sam was disappointed by how short a commute it had been. If only the Gryffindor Tower were this close to the room where they held their meetings, maybe he and Janey wouldn't be nearly half as late as they always were. He was also kind of annoyed that they had seemed to have spent the majority of the walk talking about Janey of all people. It was like even when she wasn't there she still managed to taint all his positive experiences.

Isabella came to a stop outside the door that must surely lead to the Ravenclaw Common Room. Sam faced her, breathless, and a pregnant pause seemed to linger between them.

She was much taller than Janey, Sam couldn't help but notice, unsure why he had drawn that comparison. But with them standing facing each other like that, he could see clearly into her enchanting eyes, whereas he always had to look downwards when he was speaking to the much smaller Janey. Isabella was more Rose's height, perhaps even slightly taller. It made a refreshing change.

Her skin appeared pale and smooth in the low light the corridor provided, her hair effortlessly falling into place around her shoulders. Sam had the strangest urge to take a step forward and kiss her.

"Thank you for walking me back," Isabella said in a low voice, her eyes staring at him with intent.

Maybe she would kiss him, Sam thought excitedly.

"No problem," he replied, going for his most confidently charming voice. "I hope you have a good night."

Something like disappointment seemed to flicker in Isabella's eyes, and Sam immediately panicked about what he might have done wrong. Did she want him to kiss her? Granted, Sam had zero experience, but surely there was supposed to be more of a romantic buildup before he went in for it? A bit of flirtatious back-and-forth or some kind of introductory physical interaction, like the stroking of a cheek, or the taking of a hand.

Sam made no move to do either of these things, feeling like a prize idiot.

"So, uh, when can I see you again?" Isabella asked, an edge of casual optimism in her voice.

Sam felt his heart start thumping in his chest. This was it. "Well," he said carefully, not wanting to sound too keen, or like he had been obsessing over how he might ask her this over the past week, "there's a Hogsmeade weekend coming up at the start of October."

Isabella's pupils seemed to dilate with desire, but Sam dismissed it as a trick of the light. "Yeah?" she asked breathlessly.

"Yeah," Sam went on. "And I, uh, was wondering if you would maybe like to… spend it with me," he finished hopefully, unsure whether he had delivered the line with as much charm as he'd been going for.

But Isabella looked more than keen. "Like a date?" she asked, her tone playful and her eyes shining eagerly.

Sam felt hot in the face. "Something like that," he said, trying to act casual but worried he might be coming across as dismissive. "Yeah," he corrected, hoping she could sense how new he was to all this and find it endearing rather than pathetic.

"I'd love to," Isabella breathed in awe, and Sam could hardly dare to believe it.

"Yeah?" he asked, unable to disguise his elation.

She gave a shy nod. "Of course."

"Great," Sam declared. "Then I'll, err, meet you by the castle gates at eleven?"

"It's a date," Isabella said.

"It's a date," Sam confirmed.

For another lingering moment, the air around them seemed charged with expectation. Sam knew she was probably expecting him to kiss her—perhaps just a quick pressing of his lips to hers. Just a goodnight kiss, nothing too much. Maybe even just on her cheek.

And he very nearly did it. But Sam felt he had used up more than enough of his Gryffindor courage that evening and remained exactly where he was. He thought he noticed the slightest flicker of disappointment in Isabella's eyes, for the second time that evening, but she continued to smile at him sweetly, and that was enough.

"Goodnight, Isabella," Sam told her in a soft voice.

"Goodnight, Sam," she practically whispered back.

Sam was on cloud nine when he returned to the Gryffindor Common Room. James noticed this immediately, and his face lit up with glee in the way it always did when he'd selected his next victim to succumb to a public ribbing.

Sam braced himself. He was so happy that he didn't even care.

"You're looking mightily pleased with yourself," James announced. "Anything to do with walking a certain young Ravenclaw lady back to her common room?"

Sam was actually a little surprised that James was even there—normally he and Ebony slinked off together after Prefect meetings.

"Maybe," Sam said coyly, feeling the curious looks of not just his friends but other eavesdropping students settle on him. It felt kind of good, he realised, and suddenly it made a lot of sense as to why James so constantly made a spectacle of himself. Sometimes a little attention was flattering.

"So did you slip her the tongue?"

Sam's smile dropped. Some third-years sniggered to his side.

"I—no!" Sam said in horror but then worried this would actually make him look lame. Should he assert that he had been kissing Isabella? But then, he was certain it would backfire. If she, herself, got word that he was boasting about a non-existent snog to the Gryffindors then she'd surely think him a creep and sever all ties to him immediately. "I just, ah, I asked her on a date," he confessed, hoping James wouldn't mock him.

But the Head Boy actually looked delighted by this revelation. "Yeah?" he enthused.

"Yeah," Sam said with a grin.

"Way to go!" James praised, and Sam felt at ease once more. God, it felt like he'd finally done something right.

By James' side, Albus looked a little envious, whilst Taylor seemed confused. Oh, God, Sam thought in a panic. Should he really be boasting about Isabella with her right there? He and Taylor had technically dated, but he was certain she had never actually been emotionally invested in him. They'd never really talked about it after they'd called things off, both of them kind of mortified by the whole thing.

Maybe he should have checked in with her though, Sam realised. Out of respect. Just to ensure there were no hard feelings and that she was more than okay with Sam actively pursuing something with another girl. It wasn't like Sam hadn't continued to pursue things with other girls after he and Taylor had gone their separate ways. Well, with one girl anyway. The same girl he had always tried and failed to initiate romance with. But it was different with Isabella than it was with Rose, Sam considered. For one thing, there was actually a strong chance of something actually happening with the Ravenclaw girl. Would that somehow upset Taylor?

But now Sam was thinking about Rose and was intrigued by what she might be thinking of the whole thing. He stole a glance at her, seated next to Taylor. She looked just as pleased for him as James did, but also… sort of sad, it seemed. Something in her eyes looked a little lost. Was she jealous?—Sam thought hopefully, and then felt humiliated that he had so easily considered it.

Rose was not jealous of Isabella, Sam rationalised. Nor anybody who Sam might have a romantic future with. Not as she might once have been with regards to Taylor—but that had been so much deeper than just her confused feelings towards him. That had also pertained to a deeper feminine rivalry between the two, and her dangerously confusing entanglement with Scorpius Malfoy.

And there it was, Sam realised. Rose's lost look was probably nothing to do with Sam and everything to do with the Slytherin Seeker. Maybe she was not thinking about him specifically, because God knows they were all aware of how tightly she locked away any thoughts of him, but perhaps because she remembered all too painfully how exciting it was to be experiencing a fresh, new romance and that indirectly conjured painful memories for her. Rose had made no efforts to try and pursue anything romantic with anybody new since she and Scorpius had split for good almost a year ago. If she felt any kind of jealousy, it wasn't because Sam was moving on, it was likely because she had not been able to. Though not from Sam.

"Sam!" It was Gwen who exclaimed. "That's so great."

Rose beamed at him, and Sam smiled shyly back.

They were all acting like he'd done something much more impressive than ask a girl on a date, but he would revel in the glory nonetheless.

"So when's the big day?" James probed.

"The Hogsmeade weekend," Sam told them.

"Yeah?" James asked again. "So what's the game plan. Loosen her up in the Three Broomsticks and then slip her the tongue?"

Before Sam could protest the crass nature of James' suggestion, a new voice was eagerly joining in from behind him.

"Who's slipping who the tongue?"

Any joy Sam might have felt that evening had now been replaced with the furious anger he had been feeling before and throughout most of the Prefect meeting. He turned towards Janey with an uncontainable scowl on his face.

When she noticed who was the subject of the discussion, Janey slipped into a cold frown the instant her eyes settled on him.

Nobody had a chance to answer her before Sam was letting that entire evening's fire burst from within. "Where the hell were you tonight?" he roared, even though he already knew the answer. Sam might have felt self-conscious that he still held a captive audience had he not been so incredibly outraged.

Janey looked briefly embarrassed by his immediate accusations, but her frown quickly morphed into her own scowl. "That's none of your business," she said curtly.

"We have detention now because of you, you know? Both of us," he emphasised, hoping she might feel even an ounce of guilt for her abandonment of him that evening.

"For what?" she asked, seemingly genuinely confused.

Sam was incredulous. "For missing the Prefect meeting!"

"Oh." Janey looked very briefly guilty. "That was tonight?"

"Yes!" Sam thundered on. "And you were nowhere to be found, and Bobbin's super pissed, and she acted like it was my fault that you lack any sense of responsibility and can't seem to—"

"Look, I just forgot, okay?"

"How?" Sam demanded, not even caring that he was making a huge scene in front of the entire common room. It wouldn't be his and Janey's first. "How can you possibly forget? It's the same as it's been for a whole year now!"

"I was… busy," she said offhandedly.

"Yeah?" Sam challenged, resenting her and her cavalier attitude with every fibre of his being. "With pretty-boy Hufflepuff Keepers?"

Janey looked momentarily shocked that Sam had pinpointed it so perfectly, and then shot an accusatory glance at something over Sam's shoulder—he suspected her group of roommates. But just as quickly, she turned her attention back to Sam, matching his own glare.

"He is pretty," she declared. "Hence why I'd rather spend an evening with him than be forced into a room in your boring company for a whole hour. So I missed one meeting—what's the big deal?"

Sam couldn't believe what he was listening to. "You are so unbelievably selfish," he snarled.

"You're just jealous," Janey snapped back, and Sam froze in shock.

Jealous? Was she deluded? Why on earth would Sam be jealous that Janey would rather be hanging around with some Hufflepuff guy than with himself? He felt self-conscious, now incredibly wary of how many people, exactly, were listening to them yell at each other.

"You're jealous of me and Roman because you know you and Isabella will never make it beyond, quite frankly, embarrassing attempts at flirting before you inevitably screw it up."

Ah, he realised. She had meant jealousy over that—not jealousy over the guy she was seeing. Obviously.

Sam wanted to scream at her that, actually, he had just successfully asked Isabella on a date, but he didn't want Janey to know that—for fear she would continue to taunt and belittle him.

"You're jealous," he accused instead. "Of Isabella!"

Now it was Janey's turn to look shocked, her cheeks immediately flushing with spots of pink. "Why on earth would I be jealous of her?" she asked in a scathing tone. "I told you before—she's probably the blandest girl in this whole school, and she—"

"You're jealous because we actually have a shot at a real relationship," Sam interrupted, fearful that if he allowed Janey to continue belittling Isabella, he would snap like he had done the other day, and with James still intently in earshot, Sam knew he likely wouldn't fare well.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Janey demanded, but, if Sam wasn't mistaken, she seemed to be masking a slight sense of wariness.

This only seemed to urge him on. He wanted to hurt her in the way she so constantly and easily hurt him.

"You and this Ronan guy—"

"Roman," Janey corrected fiercely.

"—you know it's never going to last. It's never going to mean anything. But with me and Isabella, it could be something real. It could be—"

"How do you know it doesn't mean anything?" Janey asked, and Sam was alarmed to see a slight quiver in her lip.

Still, it didn't dissuade him.

"Because it never does," Sam spat. "You're just a user, Janey. You use all these guys—you use me—"

"You wish!" Janey scoffed, immediately regaining her vigour.

Sam felt his face flush with heat. "I didn't mean like that," he said quickly. "I just mean—you don't care about anyone other than yourself. You take advantage of me and walk all over me when it comes to the Prefect stuff. You're the reason we both got detention tonight. You're the reason Bobbin is so disappointed in us both—even though I didn't do anything wrong!"

"No," Janey agreed sarcastically. "You never do. You're so bloody perfect, aren't you, Sam?"

"I can admit fault," he said defensively. "Unlike you. But I am not at fault here."

"Why do you even care if things aren't long-standing with me and Roman? Who, by the way," she said with great passion, "I've never even said I was seeing or anything! We just hang out sometimes—we're not even dating."

"I don't care about him," Sam said with just as much passion. "I couldn't care less about who you waste your time with—just so long as it's not when you're supposed to be fulfilling your responsibilities with me."

"You're an arsehole," she said in disgust.

"Yeah, yeah," Sam sighed.

"You are," Janey insisted. "Why the hell would I want to spend any time with you anyway?"

"Because it's your bloody responsibility! Don't think for a second I actually want to spend any time with you," he assured her. "I just don't want any more detentions because you're frolicking around with—"

"Why are you being such an arse about Roman specifically?" Janey asked, folding her arms across her chest in a way Sam was all too familiar with.

"I'm not," Sam said defensively, unsure what she was implying. "I just don't get why you're compromising everything for some guy you don't even care about?"

"Who says I don't care about him?"

"You don't care about anybody other than yourself!" Sam accused again. "He's just some other fling you'll break it off with in another week's time before you're moving onto the next poor soul who—"

"Hey!" James was on his feet and suddenly by Sam's side.

Sam wanted to tell him to piss off, but he wouldn't dare take James on. But it wasn't fair—why was he always jumping to Janey's defence? Sam did not appreciate having to bite his tongue whenever the older boy intervened. Janey deserved to hear what Sam had to say.

"We don't slut shame in Gryffindor," James said calmly, almost playfully.

Sam rolled his eyes. "I wasn't—"

"Janey can conduct herself and any of her relationships any way she desires," James insisted. "Short term, long term, just for a bit of fun—whatever."

"I didn't say she couldn't," Sam protested. "I just said she's jealous because she knows she'll never have anything real."

James frowned, and Sam sensed he was about to lose this battle and be humiliated in front of the whole house. But he didn't care. It was almost worth it to say what he wanted to Janey uninhibited.

"What—like you and Isabella?" Janey scoffed before James had a chance to condemn Sam in any way.

"Yes," Sam said boldly.

"Let me know how it's going in five years time when you've just about worked up the courage to hold her hand and get a semi because she's the first girl besides your mum to ever let you touch her."

"Let me know how it's going in five years time when you're a lonely single mother who hasn't got a clue who her baby daddy is because she let countless guys—"

"Do not finish that sentence," James said in a dangerous voice, glaring at Sam with so much heated ferocity he thought he might punch him.

Sam bit his tongue, realising he might have taken it too far. He stole a glance at Janey. She looked just like she had done when Sam had lost control after the first Prefect meeting, and he didn't feel proud of himself. When had this become him? He was starting to unlock a side of himself that he hadn't seen since Scorpius Malfoy had been an unwelcome near-constant presence in his life. But still, he'd be damned if he was going to apologise.

"You have the nerve to call me selfish," Janey yelled at Sam, her eyes shimmering with something Sam hoped were not tears. "But you are the most insensitive, conceited prick I have ever had the displeasure to meet. No wonder nobody wants to be with you! No wonder it's taken you five years at this school for someone to be even remotely interested in you—and even then it's still the most boring, blandest, least interesting girl here."

Sam was seething as he held Janey's hateful glare, wondering if it were possible for him to loathe anyone more than he did her. Why wasn't James stepping in, he thought furiously. Why was it okay for Janey to hurl insults at him when Sam was not permitted to do the same? Why didn't James ever leap to his defence and tell Janey off?

"Just fuck off, Janey," Sam dared to say, and the shock that emanated throughout the common room was palpable.

"Do I need to deduct more house points for choice language?" James asked, but he was back to being playful, perhaps relieved that the argument was clearly coming to a close.

Refusing to be beat, Janey offered one last scathing remark before she turned on her heel and flounced off to her dorm room. "See you in detention," she snarled, and Sam felt his hands involuntarily ball into fists.

Even after she was gone, Sam felt the blood rushing through his body with steady heat. He hated her, he hated her, he hated her.

"You okay?" James asked warily, and there was no denying the genuine concern in his voice.

But Sam was not in the mood to interact further with anybody that evening. That high he had been riding since successfully securing a date with Isabella had now been entirely disintegrated by the fire Janey had conjured within him.

"I'm going to bed," was all Sam said through gritted teeth, painfully aware that it was way too early in the evening for him to be retreating to his four-poster. But he couldn't possibly remain there in the common room and exchange pleasantries with his friends.

So, just like Janey, Sam turned on his heel and fled the room. He was well aware that everybody was watching him and that he had once more humiliated himself, tainting the title of respected Prefect due to one Janey Davington.

Fuck her, he thought to himself for good measure. How he was supposed to go another two years in her company was beyond him. As he settled onto his bed, desperate to calm himself with thoughts of Isabella and her pretty face, and what it might be like if he were to kiss her on their date, Sam found he could think of nothing other than Janey and her stupid face, and what it might be like if he were to strangle her.

Hers was the only face he saw, the only name on his mind, as he eventually settled to sleep.

Author's Note: Title and epigraph inspired by Louis Tomlinson feat. Bebe Rexha's 'Back To You'