mina.

Rain hammered against the windows of the Room of Requirement while dozens of students moved to music loud enough to make the stone walls vibrate.

The end-of-the-year party had descended into complete chaos a few hours ago, and it was nowhere near over. Students were dancing on long tables; some Slytherin had sent green sparks dancing across the ceiling, which exploded like fireworks every now and then, bathing the room in strobe-like flashes. A group of seventh-years held onto each other, singing completely out of tune along to a song.

All in all, it was the usual atmosphere for an end-of-the-year party.

Lottie stood at one end of the room next to Lorenzo Berkshire, leaning against a wall with a half-empty glass of Firewhisky in her hand; something she rarely drank. The liquid burned her throat with every sip and had already induced a hazy, pleasant buzz an hour ago.

"You’ve been glaring at Daphne Greengrass for ten minutes," Lorenzo informed her.

"I always glare at Daphne Greengrass."

"Fair. And you’re terrifying while you do it," he muttered into his drink, though he couldn't hide a small smirk.

"Thank you." A chuckle escaped his throat, and Lottie smiled.

Across the room, Draco looked deeply exhausted, while Pansy was arguing with Blaise about the extent to which it was immoral for a Slytherin to fancy a Gryffindor.

"She is literally one of the most beautiful girls in this castle."

"That is treason," Pansy grumbled.

"Very beautiful treason."

Theo sat sprawled across one of the dark green sofas nearby with a cigarette between his fingers and a girl balanced carelessly against his side. Not unusual in the least. Nothing about Theo Nott and random girls at parties had ever been unusual.

Lottie looked away before she could accidentally be caught staring. Unfortunately, Lorenzo noticed anyway. A mischievous smile stole onto his lips.

"You know," he said casually, "you and Theo are weird."

"I’m not weird," Lottie countered firmly, but he wasn't even listening to her.

"You insult each other like a divorced couple," he stated simply.

"That’s because he’s irritating."

"Mhm."

"And because he can’t stand that I’m better than him in class."

"Mhm."

Lottie narrowed her eyes slightly. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." But it absolutely meant something.

Before Lottie could get a chance to question Lorenzo further, however, he spotted someone in the crowd and dove in without another word. He left her standing alone against the bare wall, and Lottie sighed, "Traitor." Lorenzo had always had the attention span of a Golden Retriever.

She drained the rest of her Firewhisky and headed toward the drinks table through the crowded room.

The second she reached for a bottle—

Another hand caught it first. Theo. Of course.

Lottie looked up slowly.

Theo was bracing one hand on the table, the cigarette still between his lips, gripping the neck of the bottle with his other hand, his white shirt unbuttoned further than necessary.

"You’re in my way, Nott," Lottie grumbled unhappily. His smirk made her roll her eyes.

"You’re the one who walked up to me, Blackthorn."

"I wanted that bottle."

"I didn't know these bottles belonged to you." Annoying idiot.

Lottie sighed and rolled her eyes.

Theo unscrewed the bottle and reached for her glass. He tilted it, and amber liquid splashed carelessly over the rim. "Oh shit," he muttered.

Lottie’s fingers were sticky; cold whisky slowly ran down them.

Without thinking much about it, Lottie lifted her hand and slowly licked the whisky from her fingers. Theo froze. Not visibly enough for most people to notice, but enough. Something shifted behind his eyes instantly.

Lottie registered it; she noticed him taking a deep drag from his cigarette. "You look disturbed," she said dryly.

Theo exhaled smoke toward the ceiling. "I’m reconsidering whether speaking to you tonight was a mistake."

"That realization took you so long?" she huffed.

"Yeah, it’s tragic, honestly."

Lottie brought her glass to her lips. Theo’s gaze dropped to her mouth for a second. Then immediately back to her eyes.

"You’re staring," she said.

"You’re imagining things."

"Am I though?"

Theo tilted his head slightly.

"You’re insufferable when you’ve been drinking, Blackthorn. Tell me, how on earth do you manage that?"

"And you’re always insufferable, Nott."

For one dangerous second, they just looked at each other. The noise of the party blurred strangely around them. Somewhere, Lorenzo shouted something. It was too loud, too warm, and Theo was too close. Then he smiled faintly, and she raised her eyebrows.

"There’s that expression," he said.

"What expression?"

"The one you get right before you start a fight and insult me for whatever."

"I don’t start fights."

Theo laughed quietly. Actually laughed.

"You absolutely do."

"Oh please," she scoffed. "You provoke people for fun."

"Mostly just you," he said quite calmly.

"What did I do to deserve this?" she muttered, annoyed.

Merlin. He was insufferable. Lottie shoved past him toward the exit.

"Find another person to annoy, Nott."

Behind her, she heard him laugh once under his breath. Which somehow irritated her even more.

The corridor outside of the Room of Requirement was much quieter, even though distant music still echoed even here. Lottie walked quickly down the hallway. Footsteps followed almost immediately. Obviously. Theo Nott could never leave her alone once he started to annoy her.

"Are you stalking me now?" she called over her shoulder.

"You’d love that, wouldn’t you?"

She spun around sharply. Theo stopped a few feet away. He had left his cigarette somewhere by the drinks table or on the way out. He was looking entirely too calm for someone so deeply aggravating.

"What is your problem tonight?" Lottie sounded frustrated and angry, and she was.

"My problem?"

"Yes, your problem, Nott."

Theo stared at her for a second before laughing softly again. He always laughed when he was debating or arguing with her; it drove her absolutely insane, damn it. That lazy, arrogant laugh she wanted nothing more than to hex off his face.

"You’re the one who stormed out of the party dramatically, Blackthorn."

"I walked away from an irritating conversation."

"You mean from losing an argument?"

"There was no argument." Lottie glared at him.

Theo still looked completely relaxed. "You know," he said lightly, "most people eventually get tired of fighting with me."

"That’s because most people lack resilience and pride."

"Oh, so you won’t admit that you enjoy it?"

"I mostly enjoy winning," Lottie hissed, crossing her arms.

"And yet, there is no clear winner between the two of us, is there, Blackthorn? Don't we both enjoy arguing with each other?"

The way he said it, with that deep, dangerous undertone, made heat crawl unpleasantly up Lottie’s spine. She crossed her arms tighter.

"You’re drunk," she stated.

"So are you."

"At least I’m still coherent." But was she really? She chose to believe she was.

Theo stepped closer. Not close enough to touch her, but close enough for her to feel him. The heat radiating from his body, the rise and fall of his chest with every breath, the scent of whisky and cigarette smoke.

"You’ve been glaring at me all night," he claimed then.

"I have absolutely not," Lottie countered.

"You absolutely have."

"You’re delusional."

"You looked genuinely furious when that girl sat on my lap."

Lottie barked out a disbelieving laugh. "Oh Merlin, you actually think this is about jealousy?"

Theo shrugged lazily. "I think you’re very bad at pretending you don't care about what I do."

"I don’t care who you hook up with, Nott."

"Sure."

"I don’t."

"Yeah, sure. But then tell me, Charlotte, why are you sounding so offended?"

"Because you are exhausting and annoying and you drive me insane!"

Theo smirked. Lottie hated how badly she wanted to wipe that smirk off his face.

"You really think everyone wants you," she said, incredulous.

"Most people do."

"You are insufferable."

"And you’re still standing here and talking to me instead of walking away."

Suddenly, the hallway felt too cramped as Theo took another step toward her. It was simply too warm, but the heat spreading through her body wasn't something that could be fixed by cooler temperatures.

"Do you know what I think?" he asked softly.

Lottie sighed, "I’m sure you’re dying to tell me."

"I think you like standing here and arguing with me instead of going to your dormitory alone."

She laughed once, "Oh please."

"I think," Theo continued calmly, "you like the attention I give you."

"Oh, that is rich coming from you."

"It’s true though."

"You’re unbelievable."

"And you are avoiding the point."

"There is no point, because you are talking bullshit."

Theo came even closer, and now his arm brushed hers, but she didn't step back. Lottie inhaled his scent of whisky and cigarette smoke once more. It made her head feel strangely light.

"You’re angry," Theo murmured.

"I’m always angry around you."

"Yeah, but there’s something else too."

Something about the way he said it made her stomach twist unexpectedly. Lottie looked away first. A mistake. Theo had noticed how her eyes had traveled from his eyes to his mouth before she looked away.

"Do you know what your problem is, Blackthorn?" She looked back up at him sharply when he said that. "What?"

"You act like you hate me—"

"I do hate you."

Theo moved before she fully processed it. One second he was standing there, the next his hand caught her wrist and pulled her hard against him. Lottie inhaled sharply. Theo’s eyes flicked down to her mouth, then back up again.

"But at the same time, you want me," he finished his sentence.

And then, before she could stop herself, she closed the final gap between them and met his lips with hers. She kissed him with all the anger she felt toward him. And he kissed back like he was angry as well, like he’d wanted to do it for far too long.

Lottie made a startled sound against his mouth before instinct immediately took over, and she buried her hands in his hair to pull him closer. Firewhisky burned hot in her bloodstream, and her heart hammered in her chest as his hand tightened sharply against her waist.

Weeks—

Months—

Years of irritation and tension suddenly crashed together all at once. It felt catastrophic.

Theo kissed like he argued: confident, relentless, devastatingly deliberate.

Lottie grabbed the front of his shirt with one hand instinctively, pulling him even closer.

Theo made a rough sound low in his throat. And somehow that only made everything worse. Or better. Possibly both.

He shoved her gently back against the stone wall. Lottie kissed him harder immediately out of spite. Theo laughed breathlessly against her mouth when they both caught their breath.

"I hate you," she whispered.

"Liar."

The Divination classroom smelled of incense and burning candles. Ancient rugs were heaped upon the floor and lavender sachets hung everywhere. James hated it. He always got a headache when he sat in here for too long. Sirius grinned as he pushed open a window. Remus and Peter rummaged their books out of their bags, and as though preparing himself for the lesson, Peter rubbed his hands on his robes, adopting a ghostly expression; he was the only Marauder who actually cared about the prophecies made in this room.

Professor Selwynn wandered between the tables and up to the blackboard, moving with slow, eerie gestures, a deliberately mysterious expression fixed upon her face. Her wrapped scarves rustled as she wrote a word across the board: Palmistry. “Today,” she began, “we turn to the fate etched into our very flesh. Palmistry. The ancient art of reading life, love, and loss with a single glance.”

Sirius leaned towards James. “I bet my fate says I’ll knock that miserable Slytherin Seeker off his broom on Saturday with my bat.” James laughed quietly, amused. “You don’t need Divination for that, Fletcher can’t stay on his own broom even without your bat.” Professor Selwynn shot the two of them a warning look.

At the very front sat Lily Evans. She rolled her eyes when she heard James and Sirius snickering, and when Professor Selwynn reached her table, she readily stretched out her hand to be read. The professor took it, her many bangles clinking as they slid down her sleeve.

“Mmm,” Selwynn murmured. “Such clarity in your heart, albeit with a marked reluctance. And such strength.” Lily smiled politely as Selwynn examined her hand in the candlelight.

Then the professor suddenly stopped. Her eyes widened, her brow furrowed deeply. It felt as though the entire room held its breath as she murmured, “oh, child…” Even James looked up with interest something that rarely happened in Divination.

“What?” Lily’s voice was sharp, though tinged with fear. Selwynn traced a line on her palm with a finger. “Your life line… it is terribly short.”

A chill prickled across the room. Sirius shot James an exasperated look, but James swallowed hard when he saw Lily’s expression. “But that’s ridiculous,” Lily protested, ever the voice of logic, though the tremble in her voice betrayed her.

Selwynn tilted her head, brushed her thumb over Lily’s hand, then released it. “The hand does not lie, Miss Evans.”

The lesson ended an hour later in a thick fog of incense and unease. Students drifted out quietly. Lily left the classroom first, alone and as quickly as though fleeing something, clutching her books tightly under her arm. James watched her go, then turned to his friends after gathering the rest of his things. “I’ll go on ahead.” Remus only gave him a knowing look, but said nothing.

James caught up with Lily in the corridor outside the North Tower. The torches on the walls fizzed as he hurried past them. “Evans!” he called.

She didn’t quite stop, but she slowed down which he took as a good sign.

James jogged up beside her. “Hey. Don’t listen to old Selwynn. Last week she said Sirius’s aura was being corrupted by the constellation Canis Major and that he’d be talking nonsense for the next few days.”

“That actually sounds plausible,” Lily muttered. “Yeah, but she also predicted Peter would become Minister for Magic, so…” He grinned, hoping for a smile from her. None came.

Lily exhaled sharply. “It’s stupid. I know it’s stupid. But when someone tells you you’re going to die young on an ordinary Wednesday afternoon-”

“Then you don’t listen to them,” James said firmly, then held up his own hand. “Or look at this.“ Lily blinked. “What?” “Look.” He pointed at his own life line. It was short, shockingly so, nearly identical to hers.

Lily frowned and leaned closer. “Hm. It is short.”

“Exactly. And I’m perfectly fine. There’s nothing mysterious about it. Maybe palm lines don’t mean anything. Maybe Selwynn is just extraordinarily dramatic. Maybe-” he shrugged, “people’s lives aren’t written in their hands.”

Something in Lily eased; her expression softened, and a small, rare smile appeared. “You don’t believe in Divination at all, do you?” she asked. “Not unless Selwynn predicts I’ll catch the Snitch within two minutes on Saturday,” he said with a grin.

Lily finally laughed, and the tension in the corridor lifted immediately. James beamed, triumphant. “For that laugh alone I’ve earned at least a Butterbeer next Hogsmeade weekend,” he declared.

“Fine, Potter. Maybe palmistry is nonsense.” She shook her head in amusement. “And maybe we could meet in Hogsmeade, if you insist so desperately.”

With that, the day became an undeniable victory for James.

Yet as they made their way towards the Gryffindor common room, a cold draft swept through the corridor like an omen. Their shadows stretched across the cold stone walls of Hogwarts, James’s tall and lanky, Lily’s sharp and bright.

Two short lines.