Your amazing director Minerva had cast you first and foremost, knowing your role was key to the show's success, and you'd already built a strong relationship with her after just a few weeks of knowing her.

After casting you, she'd informed you that the show's next order of business was finding someone to play your character's—Cassidy's—love interest, Aaron. When she'd told you that initially, you didn't think anything of it. But when she told you they already had gone through the first round of auditions for the role and that it was time for the infamous chemistry reads, you had to try your hardest to stay completely calm.

Aside from the fact that you'd soon be meeting the person you'd have to spend hours working with every day for God knows how many months, you also knew that the casting directors were going to be looking extra careful at the romantic chemistry you were supposed to have with the actors they brought in. You willed yourself not to get worked up when the morning came for the chemistry reads with the men auditioning for Aaron, and reminded yourself that your role in the show was already secured. Yet, for some reason, you were still on edge.

Luckily, the casting directors had narrowed down their options from the hundreds of actors who had come to audition for the role of Aaron originally to just a handful, making your job much easier. By the time noon came around, you'd already read from the script with three different candidates.

Just as you'd expected, they each had done a close-to-perfect job in their auditions. Your personal favorite was the second actor you'd read lines with, a sandy-haired guy named Remus who you thought was a really nice person as well as actor. It was important to you that the person you were going to have to pretend to be romantically interested in was a person you at least liked, and it was all too easy to imagine working with someone like Remus.

You'd expressed your thoughts to Minerva when she'd asked for them, and she nodded in agreement—a good sign—before the two casting directors beside her were calling for her attention.

"This next one, Minerva," cooed the curly-haired woman you knew as Poppy from next to her, "we think you're going to like."

"Am I?" she asked, lips curling up.

"Oh yes. When we saw him we knew right away we had to bring him in for the chemistry reading." Poppy nodded to you. "He looks promising. And he certainly has the background; his parents are Euphemia and Fleamonet Potter."

The other casting director hummed in agreement, not hiding their impressed and widened eyes. "Not to mention, he has that accent."

You had to fight your expression from turning sour. A Potter? If there was one thing you didn't appreciate in the world of acting, it was nepotism. After working so hard and starting from the ground up to get your acting career where it currently was, the last thing you wanted was to have to see your director swoon over some guy just because of who his parents were.

Nonetheless, you had faith in Minerva to pick the person who truly deserved the job. You watched her nod at the two women beside her, intrigued nonetheless. She waved a hand over to the security guard by the door in the corner of the room.

"Bring Potter in?"

The burly man nodded and exited the room briefly, and not a minute had gone by before he returned with the man you assumed was the young Potter in tow.

You subconsciously stood up straighter when you saw him, trying to push away any premeditated opinions of the man approaching. Brown curls and a genetically gifted bone structure you could see from feet away, he walked into the room confidently with reason. He immediately offered the security guard who had brought him into the room a handshake, and you watched as the tall brick wall of a man lit up with a bright smile from the gesture. Potter then rolled out more charming words of greeting to the director and casting directors, and you took the opportunity to scan him over in more detail.

With an interest you couldn't explain, you saw that he was strikingly handsome in the kind of way you'd expect the son of two celebrities to be; he was wearing a black t-shirt that clung to him flatteringly, with that sort of movie-star quality you knew audiences always swooned over. It didn't help that the moment he walked in you saw each of the directors turn to each other with raised brows and suggestive smiles that only widened when he introduced himself, charmingly posh British accent and all. You had to fight back from rolling your eyes at their reactions.

"James," greeted Poppy, standing up from her seat to give the man a handshake.

"Poppy," the man regarded, and you felt your eyebrows raise at the fact that he was already on a first-name basis with the head casting director.

She sat back down after a moment, keeping her attention on the man—James—as she spoke. "James, this is Minerva McGonagall, the Director of South Bay."

"I'm such an admirer of your work, Mrs. McGonagall. My parents took me to see your adaptation of Henry Shay's novel about three times when it first came out."

Your parents, you thought internally with some distaste; the famous actor and actress power couple. You had to stop yourself from shaking your head.

"Please, just Minerva," the director responded warmly, and you noted that she hadn't told any of the other actors to call her by her first name. "And thank you."

Poppy nodded happily before she held out an alarming hand towards you. "And let me introduce you to the wonderful actress who is going to be playing South Bay's leading lady Cassidy Ward."

You plastered on a smile and introduced yourself as plainly and confidently as you could, definitely not feeling suddenly conscious of your appearance as his warm-colored eyes raked over you.

James took that second to scan you over before realizing with a simmering feeling in the planes of his chest that there was something special about you he couldn't make out, something that had him wanting to greet you with more than a handshake. He refrained, thankfully, not saying anything after you finished introducing yourself for a second you felt was a beat too long, before scrambling to hold out a hand to you.

"I'm James. James Potter," he said as if you hadn't been already made aware of his last name. "It's an honor to get to meet you."

You didn't know why but his clear flattery only made you more uneasy of him, knowing it was something he'd probably gotten used to pulling out to impress whatever important or famous people he was busy meeting through all the connections he probably had.

You stopped yourself in your tracks; you were being unfair. You'd only known the guy, if you call it knowing him, for under a minute. Shaking off the odd feeling that was creeping its way into your stomach, you shook his held out hand with a polite nod, though that didn't the prying feeling inside you go away.

"Alright." Minerva clapped her hands together, looking between the two of you. "We're just going to do a read-through of scene number thirty-four, Episode three." She motioned towards the camera crew set up behind her, them shooting her a thumbs up.

She turned back around, looking between you and James pointedly. "Remember, your characters Cassidy and Aaron are the only two characters in the show who have known each other for longer than just a few months. They're close. That connection has to be visible, however you want to show that to us."

You didn't know why, but you felt uneasy. You nodded at Minerva regardless, seeing the supportive but anticipatory look behind her eyes as she glanced between you and the man now standing in front of you like you held the answers to all her problems.

James looked surprisingly calm and collected, like there was nothing in the world that could make the James Potter nervous. The more you looked at him and the confident set of his shoulders, the more you thought that was true.

Your director smiled. "Whenever you're both ready."

You nodded, taking a breath in before turning to James. "Where were you last night?"

You watched as James reacted to you in character, his strong brows pulling inwards. "What do you mean?"

You momentarily were taken aback by the almost effortless switch in his accent, but pushed the thought aside. "Last night. When everyone else was at Ryan's party. Where were you?"

He shrugged slightly. "I was in my dorm."

"Really? Because I knocked on your door and no one answered."

"I must've been sleeping. Why do want to know so badly?"

"I don't know, maybe because half the football team got caught last night breaking into the Dean's office."

"You don't think I did that, do you?"

You stared at him and then down at the floor. James—or Aaron, really—shook his head at you, his tone dropping. "I can't believe this."

Then he turned away from you and, as the script had told you to, you grabbed his wrist softly.

"Aaron, wait," you called, and the connection of your fingers to his arm had them tingling with a certain kind of teeming energy, though you didn't let it show on your face. "Of course I don't think you did it. I just don't know what to think. We're supposed to be best friends, yet you won't even tell me where you were."

James let a second pass before he said his next line, and it was like you could see his character's inner turmoil flickering through his mind restlessly when he said, "You want to know where I was, Cassidy?" You nodded. "I was talking with your Professor."

"Professor Brown?" you frowned. "Why?"

"I was trying to get him to let you submit your final thesis late."

"What? You know he told me I couldn't because-"

"Because of me." He paused dramatically, stern jaw working. "The only reason you missed the deadline was because you were helping me when I got too drunk to even make it up the stairs to my dorm."

"That's ... that's really nice of you, Aaron, but you know how Brown is-"

"He's letting you turn it in late for full credit."

"What?" You widened your eyes. "How did you ..."

"I told him how it was my fault you missed the deadline. And I told him about how good of a student you are, how you've never turned in anything late once, not even when we were in high school. But most importantly," he took a step closer to you to hold your hand, something you noted wasn't in the script but made your fingers flood with feeling. "I told him what a good person you were. How kind you are. Even to idiots like me who get black-out drunk during finals week."

You blinked at him, letting a smile overtake your face for a moment. "You really didn't have to."

"I did."

He squeezed your hand and, even if it was only acting, the way he was looking at you so meaningfully made something in your chest tighten excitedly. You didn't have to act when you shifted your gaze to the ground nervously. Why the hell were you nervous? "I don't know how the hell you got him to say yes."

"Well, I also have to wash his car for free for the next six months, but that's just a small detail."

You let your jaw drop. "I can't believe you'd do that for me."

"Of course I would." James took another step closer, still holding tight onto your hand and not breaking the immobilizing eye contact he'd established with you the whole while. "I'd do anything for you, Cassidy."

He nodded slowly, truly looking invested. Then, in a beat as short as a breath but one that must've felt like minutes to you as you stood there unmovingly, he leaned forward. All you could do was blink as his handsome—ugh, handsome—face neared yours before tilting itself to the right, where he left a soft but lingering kiss on your downstage cheek.

Then he pulled away again, the distance between you maybe a few inches smaller than before, before finally whispering, "Anything."

That definitely was not in the script. Your eyes blinked in an alarm that surely was no longer in character, but James looked unbothered, something you were finding was his natural state of being.

You felt your mouth go slightly dry at the intensity behind his eyes as he looked at you, but the last thing you could do was look away now, so you stayed rooted in your place in front of James as you waited for your signal to break character. Waited and waited; you felt dizzy.

"Cut!"

Minerva immediately clapped, the casting directors doing the same, and you felt like you could finally breathe as you dropped James's hand that was still holding yours and turned away from him, not sparing the man a second glance for nervous reasons you couldn't place. Maybe it was because of the fact that the feeling of his stupid lips was still lingering on your cheek.

Your director's tone was neutral when she said, "Great job, you two," though you watched as she turned passionately toward the two casting directors and they began speaking in hushed tones.

You shook your leg subtly as you waited, an antsy habit that you couldn't identify the current cause of, and you felt James lean down next to you, something that sent a nauseating feeling of déjà vu through you.

"Don't worry," he whispered lowly, taking your mannerisms as a sign of distress. He noted that even when frowning you looked extremely pretty, though at his words you left his lips your frown only deepened. "You did great."

You turned to him in confusion and some offense, trying to keep your voice hushed as you asked, "Excuse me?"

He shrugged a shoulder, eyes flicking over your figure for a split second that you definitely noticed. "You just looked tense, is all."

You stared at him blankly, not knowing what he could possibly be implying. Was he saying your acting looked tense? That you didn't look sure of yourself? Like you weren't already the lead and that he was the one auditioning? 

You fought the urge to say that maybe you looked tense because he'd just kissed you on the cheek out of nowhere, and stayed defiantly silent. When you didn't say anything back he let his lips turn up into a lopsided smile that you were sure must work on all the ladies, almost a smirk, and he nudged you in the shoulder a bit like you were old friends. Who was this guy?

Whatever you thought he meant by the statement, you didn't get to say anything back, because Minerva had pulled away from her conversation and was staring expectantly at the two of you. You did your best to soften your expression away from offended and back to neutral.

"Well," she said, turning to the man beside you. "Thank you, James, for coming in."

"Thank you," he responded, tipping his head politely. Then he took a step forward and shook each of the casting director's hands, and you watched with a foul taste in your mouth as their lips visibly fought against fond smiles.

When he turned back around, he held his hand out to you as well, and you regarded it for a moment before shaking it like you did at the start of his audition, though this time it was definitely against your will. His hand was warm and smooth, like he hadn't worked a day in his life, and you hated the fact that you even noted how it felt at all.

Like he knew you didn't enjoy his presence, he smiled at you with something knowing shining in his eyes that you hated before he took his leave, the door to the room shutting behind him.

"That was ..." began Poppy, shaking her head slowly, "Perfect. Just perfect."

You couldn't help the way your lips parted almost exhasperatedly. "Really?" You hoped you hadn't revealed your surprise in your tone.

"Yes," Minerva responded instead, also seeming to be in awe. "Wow." She gestured with her hands exuberantly. "It was like I could see the show coming to life right in front of me."

"Not to mention the chemistry between you two." Poppy tipped her head at you, smirking as she fanned herself. "I mean, wow."

You bit down on the inside of your cheek to keep from saying anything you'd regret. Your throat felt dry. If you heard one more 'wow' from any of their mouths in reference to James Potter again you thought you were going to lose it. You tried to keep the premonition out of your voice as you bravely asked, "So, do you think you're going to cast him?"

Minerva paused for a moment in thought before answering you. "I mean, he was the last actor we're considering for the role, and I think he was the best we've seen today." She looked between the two other casting directors who nodded agreeingly at her words. "But I'd like to know your thoughts."

You blinked at her. "My thoughts?"

"Well, yes," she answered plainly. "He's going to be playing your love interest. And I like to hear my actor's opinions."

You pursed your lips at her words, feeling flattered but also not knowing how you were feeling at the prospect of having to work with James all the time. Although, deep within you, something was nagging at you—something you absolutely did not like—and telling you your answer.

The truth was, the scene you acted out with James felt realer, had come to life more than it had with any of the other actors that day. Maybe it was because he'd taken such liberties with the role, sure, but regardless, he did a great job. The thought made you hate yourself when you finally took a breath in to speak.

"He ..." you began unsurely, and then sighed. "He was great. Really great."

"Perfect!" Minerva clapped her hands together again, and something in your stomach churned. "We'll make contact with him as soon as possible." Her eyes twinkled as she regarded you. "I can't wait to have you two leading South Bay. I have nothing but hope."

"And," Poppy added, "it'll be great for publicity having a Potter in our cast."

The two other directors at the table nodded and murmured in agreement, and you fought from sighing. You thought of the days you'd spend on set with James Potter, of all people, not only having to get along with him but connect with him, with someone who clearly thought they were above you, enough to reassure you when you had already gotten the lead role. And then you thought of what it would be like to release South Bay to the public, your first leading role, only for Potter's undeniably charming face to be the audience's main focus. It left a sour feeling in your mouth.

But it wasn't just that horrible premonition that annoyed you; you didn't know exactly what bugged you about him in particular but you knew it hadn't gone away with his formal handshake or well-practiced manners. In fact, that'd probably only worsened the feeling.

"I mean it. Sebastian's not gonna be able to keep his hands off of you when he sees you."

You covered your face with your hands, half because you were embarrassed, and half because you didn't need Lily and Marlene to see you spiraling at the thought of what Marlene had just suggested. You'd been so caught up with, well, everything going on, that you hadn't even considered what going on a date truly entailed. What if he wanted to kiss you?

"Then you kiss him back," Marlene said easily as you voiced your question aloud. She stopped herself. "But only if you want to, of course."

"Yeah," Lily agreed, placing down a pair of nice shoes with a short but elegant heel on them that you'd forgotten you'd owned on the floor next to you. "Only do something if you want to do it. Don't let him pressure you into doing anything you don't want to. Even if it's as simple as holding your hand."

"Thank you guys, I know." You set the dress you were planning on wearing on the bed beside you, fiddling with the hanger pensively. "Holding his hand would be nice, I think." You chewed on the inside of your cheek, sitting down on the blanketed mattress. "To be honest, I don't know what I want." The two girls came to stand closer to you as you spoke. "I mean, Sebastian's a great guy and all, but do I even know him all that well?" Your mind traveled back to all the interactions you'd had with him. "What if I only said yes to go out with him because he asked me during the middle of that prank and I panicked and-"

"You need to relax," Lily said, voice firm but comforting at the same time. "You're just freaked out because it's the morning of. You're gonna have a great time." She shrugged a shoulder. "And if things don't click, then it wasn't meant to be. It's not the end of the world. "

"Exactly," the blonde said from next to her. "Don't let Potter's nonsense-spewing mouth ruin this date for you."

You'd filled them in the night before on all that'd been going on with James for the past few days, minus the few intimate 'almosts' that you'd shared with him that'd been dangerously playing in your mind even when you begged them to stop.

"Trust me," you said. "I'm trying not to."

"I still can't believe he's acting like this." Lily shook her head agitatedly. "And just when I was starting to think he might be maturing."

You nodded grievingly. "I would defend his honor to you, Lily, but I don't feel much like doing that right now."

"Maybe it's for the best." She breathed out a dry laugh. "Anyways, I suppose," she sighed. "Are you finished in the bathroom? I need to use the loo."

You snorted. "Yeah, all yours."

She shot you an overly excited grin and slipped into the bathroom, the door shutting behind her. All the while, Marlene took a seat on the bed next to you, something glimmering behind her eyes that told you she had ideas she wanted to voice.

You stared at her half amusedly, half hesitantly. "What is it?"

"Did you ever think, during all your bickering, why Potter has such a problem with you going on this date?"

You sighed. That was all you could think about. You tipped your head at her, knowing where this conversation was going to lead. "Yeah," you said plainly. "Because he's set on the five of us spending every Hogsmeade trip together until we die."

"Or maybe," she argued, "it's because he's jealous."

You dropped your shoulders, shaking your head as you stared at her. "You're not serious."

The blonde stared back at you with an equal amount of fire. "I so am."

You laughed to yourself, perhaps deprecatingly. "The only thing James could be jealous about is the free butterbeer I'll probably be getting."

"Don't be dense."

"I'm not being dense. I'm being realistic." You puffed out a breath. "I know James. Well enough to know that, after we ..." you trailed off. "After the party, when he disappeared, he was freaked out because I'd scared him off. And he knows me too. I didn't have to tell him for him to figure out that I'd ... felt something for him. Something that he obviously was uncomfortable talking about, so I've spared him the trouble and moved on. That's the end of it." You picked up the dress you'd laid on the bed as you heard Lily washing her hands in the bathroom. "It has to be."

Marlene regarded you for a few seconds, maybe scoping out how genuine you were. "Like you said," she shrugged, "you know him best."

You nodded, ending the conversation as Lily exited the bathroom. Though the more this week went on, you believed that fact less and less.

You soon were leaving the sides of both Lily and Marlene after the walk down to the horseless carriages in front of the school, dozens of them stationed there to take everyone down to Hogsmeade.

The air was especially crisp for a September evening, making you think to yourself that maybe bringing a jacket would have been a smart choice, especially in the dress you were wearing, but your brain soon became occupied by other thoughts. Thoughts that were centered around the sight of your four friends standing around an unoccupied carriage in the distance, probably waiting for you.

You took a breath in, and then another one. You were completely devoted to ensuring this would be a drama-free carriage ride, no matter what, or who, tried to stop that from happening. You made your way over to the four boys, two of their backs turned to you. You tapped the long-haired one, of course Sirius, on the shoulder.

"You didn't think you were going to leave without me, did you?" you smirked up at him.

He had a wry smile on his face as he turned to you, surely ready with a quip to send back your way, but that smile left as he saw you, his eyes quickly scanned over you.

"Wow," he blanched. Then a sparkling grin took over his features. "You certainly clean up nice."

You crinkled your forehead at his remark and amused smirk until Remus cut in. "What he means is," corrected the sandy-haired boy from next to him. "You look beautiful. Seriously."

You felt your face begin to heat at the four pairs of eyes all now observing you as you stood there in your dress. You were surprised they weren't poking more fun at you than just Sirius's single obvious remark. You couldn't remember the last time you were this dressed up in front of them.

"Thanks," you muttered gratefully. "Now stop gushing and let's get a move on, yeah?"

Remus shook his head at your reaction but hid his laugh, taking an effortless step onto the high carriage, Peter quietly behind him. Sirius made a move to ruffle your hair, which you dodged easily and shot him a glare. He chuckled, making his way over to the carriage as well. That left only you and James.

You turned to him finally, expecting him to be avoiding your eyes as he'd done for the past few days, but instead found him looking straight at you, hazel eyes and all. You didn't know what to do under his gaze which you'd grown somewhat unused to, so you settled on doing nothing at all. You were still holding your grudge over how he'd been acting and weren't quick to forget about it. You were fully expecting him to do the same and say nothing to you at all.

"You do," he said suddenly, and at the confused quirk of your brow, softly added, "Look beautiful, I mean."

You paused, somewhat taken aback by both his words and the genuine tinge of his eyes. You didn't know how James could hold eye contact so easily, especially when he'd been so set on doing just the opposite lately.

"Oh," you voiced quietly, and couldn't help the way the corners of your lips tilted upwards. "Thanks."

He nodded wordlessly and the two of you turned back to the carriage that held your three other friends, clearly able to hear and see your conversation. You eyed the tall wooden floor of the carriage before you and then the high cut of your dress, and then your shoes. As if reading your mind, a firm hand held itself out in front of you.

You peaked your head over to the source of the hand: James, who looked at you expectantly, a certain air to him that was both light and heavy. You regarded him and his hand for a split second, deciding there was no harm in taking it, and did, your fingers slipping over his steadying palm as you took the large step into the carriage. And maybe you were imagining it, but you felt the ghost of his fingers delicately shadowing your lower back as you steadied yourself into your seat, James following from behind.

He sat across from you and you avoided looking at him as you fought reacting to the feeling that ran through you, like you were still on some kind of high from his touch. It only made you mad to think about, so you decided not to, looking elsewhere instead as the carriage began moving seemingly on its own.

It'd only taken a few moments for the Hogwarts castle to be only a beautiful shrinking sight in the distance, and for the scenery of the early fall to take over your senses instead. You were sat in front of James, who sat next to Peter, the blonde looking rather sickly and lost in troubling thoughts.

"Pete," you called curiously. "You alright? You look pale."

The boy in question turned to you with worry behind his eyes, but he only nodded. "Yeah, I'm great," he said, voice rather shaky for someone who was 'great.'

"He's just nervous about his date." Sirius reached across the carriage to pat Peter on his shoulder, shaking him a little in his frail state. "You've got nothing to be worried about, mate."

"Yeah, Sirus is right," you agreed. "Remember, she asked you out because she wanted to spend time with you as you already are. Just be yourself."

Sirius nodded, before shifting his focus to you. "And what about you? You nervous for your date with Vance?"

You shrugged. "Maybe before, but I think I'm alright now." You smiled thinly. "I already talked it out with Lily and Marlene in our dorm getting ready."

"So that's what you ladies do up there?" Sirius asked, and you frowned. "Thought there'd be more pillowfights in your underwear."

You made a nauseated expression as Sirius grinned at his own joke. "You're disgusting," you scolded, though Peter had let a smile overtake his face at the joke and you figured maybe it was worth it.

Remus was shaking his head as well from next to you, the corners of his mouth teasing upwards. You turned forward again, James straight in your line of vision, but it didn't even seem he was listening to the conversation at hand, head aimed out the side of the carriage. He looked more distant than ever as he sat tensely and you had to fight the urge to reach out to him. You knew all too well what would come from that.

You let your focus slip onto other things, like the wind that was brushing against your exposed arms and moving your hair slightly in the wind. You fought a shiver, bringing your hands up to rub at the sides of your arms—you were sure you had goosebumps.

For the second time that morning, like he was reading your mind, you watched as James held out his arm towards you, though this time he was holding something in his hand instead: his coat. It was brown on the outside, a light jacket that was lined with a soft flannel fabric, one that you always thought looked dashing on him. He looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to take it.

You faltered from surprise and then shook your head. "I'm alright," you said softly, pursing your lips.

"You're practically shivering," James pointed out, tipping out his chin at you. "Just take it."

"I don't want to take your own jacket from you, James. It's chilly."

"Exactly," he said, catching you in your lie. "And you're not taking it from me, I'm giving it to you."

You looked up from the jacket he was offering, if you could call it an offer, and at him, seeing the stubborn hold of his jaw and yet the sincere gloss of his eyes. Because you knew he wouldn't let you say no anyway now that you'd admitted it was chilly, you took it from his hand.

You wrapped the too-big coat over your shoulders, grateful but perhaps hateful of the way it immediately warmed you like the lighting of a fireplace. It smelt warm and comforting like a fireplace too, or maybe that was just the fact that it was James's jacket and he always smelled strangely nice. You blinked at yourself, chasing away your thoughts that were certainly not appropriate, considering you were currently on your way to a date with a different boy.

In all your thinking, it was like you could feel a pair of eyes on you. You looked up again, but James already had gone back to staring out at the moving scenery. You couldn't read him right then, and if there was anything you'd learned about James from all the years you'd known him, it was that you could always read him, even when others couldn't. The fact that you hadn't been able to read him for days was worrying you sick and setting you off all at once. You just wished you could get inside his head.

You sighed, your eyes shifting over to Remus, who was giving you the oddest of looks. The corners of his eyes crinkled, though his lips stayed shut together. You raised a brow and he only shrugged, looking away again. You really needed to get inside that boy's head, too.

Before you could even mull over the different possibilities of ways that your up-and-coming date could go wrong, a habit of your mind that you hated, the carriage had pulled up into Hogsmeade. It came to a slow stop next to the uniquely shaped brick buildings you'd become all too familiar with over the years. That didn't take away from the excitement bubbling inside your stomach—or maybe that was nervousness; you couldn't tell anymore.

All five of you exited the carriage, James offering you his hand again as you took the big step onto the ground. You were growing too frustrated to even consider the feeling of your hand in his larger one that somehow was still as warm as the jacket you wore. How he could be so sweet yet so aggravatingly aloof you didn't know, but you forced your mind off the topic once again. Only, you couldn't force thoughts of James away completely, because he was calling your name as soon as you'd walked past him.

Your head turned to him so swiftly it almost made you dizzy. He was standing there along the side of a building you identified as The Three Broomsticks, hands now shoved into his trouser pockets with his head slightly tipped forward, though he stood up straighter as you made your way to him.

"Yeah?" you questioned, and maybe your tone was testy, but you didn't have it in you to alter it for his sake.

James shifted his footing underneath your gaze, taking a moment before speaking. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry."

The pull of your brows let up at his words and you observed his facial expressions shamelessly, sorting through what to say. Luckily, he spoke again before you could.

"I'm sorry for making you take the carriage ride into Hogsmeade with the rest of us. You should've just gone with your date. I was just in an ... off mood last night. Didn't mean to take it out on you."

And just like that, the hope you were harboring when James had first uttered the word 'sorry' had bubbled and churned inside of you until all that was left was dissatisfaction.

"Is that all?" you questioned.

James's lips parted. "What?"

"I mean, I'm grateful for your apology," you breathed the word like it left a foul taste in your mouth. "But is there anything else you'd like to talk about? Apologize for?"

James scratched his head almost comically, and you laughed without any humor as you began to turn around. Before you could take a single step, James grasped your wrist in his fingertips, and you fought not to notice how feather-light he held onto you.

"Like what?" he asked you, and at your stone expression he dropped your hand. "Please," he insisted.

You swallowed and shrugged up your shoulders irritatedly. "Oh, I don't know James, maybe the fact that you've been acting 'off' this whole week and won't say a word as to why?" You took the hand he'd held and put it to your forehead. "I've probably asked you if you were okay about a dozen times and all you can say to me is that you're 'fine' when you're clearly ticked off."

"Because that's the truth," James insisted.

"Please," you remarked. "It's not the truth. Don't lie to me, James. I know you. Better than anyone else, and I know when you're upset about something."

"I'm not upset, alright?" James squinted at you. "Why can't you just let it go?"

"Because!" You took a breath in, trying to calm yourself because this was not the drama-free morning you wanted to have. "Because, every time I've been down, which has been too many times to count, you've been there for me. Always."

You thought back to the night you realized you loved him as more than just a friend, when he'd comforted you through your tears so quickly and sweetly, and it only made you feel more exasperated.

"So I'm not just going to 'let it go' when something's so obviously bothering you, enough to make you act completely differently to the point where you won't even talk to me." You paused, noticing the sinking in James's gaze the more you spoke. "And quite frankly," you continued, "it hurts like hell that you don't think you can tell me what's been going on, because you can. We're supposed to be best friends, remember?"

James let out a low breath, somewhere between a laugh and a scoff that had your forehead pulling. "Trust me, I remember."

"Then why the hell won't you just talk to me?" Your palms were facing him, telling him it was his move, his turn to try and fix things.

"Because there's nothing to say." He'd thrown away his turn without a second glance, running a fast hand through his hair. "God, this was a mistake. Every time I talk to you, I just-" he stopped himself.

Your heart was beating hard in your chest. "You just what?"

James shook his stubborn head, a muscle in his jaw noticeably flexing. "Nothing, alright?" He looked upwards, like he was battling something greater than him, and began walking towards wherever the hell James Potter went when he didn't want to talk to you. You weren't going to let him.

"How long are you going to keep doing this for, James?" He halted his steps, turning his head back towards you with a rigid look in his eyes. "How long are you going to avoid me?"

"Avoid you?" he laughed, and you froze. "That's rich, coming from you of all people."

You clamped your jaw shut for a beat, blinking at him as your mind started to spin. "What are you talking about?" You knew exactly what he was talking about.

"I'm talking about when you were avoiding me just a few days ago. Ring a bell?"

You lowered your gaze, confidence stuttering. You didn't respond.

"I mean, you wouldn't even partner with me Defense Against the Dark Arts, for Merlin's sake."

"That was different," you argued, though you were ashamed of how pathetic the words sounded coming from your lips.

"How?" James asked, staring at you fearlessly now with raised, expectant brows and an unmoving jaw.

"It ... it just is!" You looked away. "We're getting off track. My point was that ... I just miss you, James." The irony of your warm words contrasted with the angry shake of your lips didn't escape you. "I miss the James who wouldn't push me away every time I tried to have a conversation with him, or who wouldn't act like a bloody child every time I mention I'm going on a date."

If you thought you saw a crack of guilt racking James's expression, there was no trace of it now.

"Oh yeah?" he questioned, his tone colder than you'd ever heard it. "I'm sorry I don't like talking about your beloved Sebastian every five minutes."

"Well it's not like I can talk to you about anything else, can I?" Your heart was thumping in your chest and you felt like crying. "You know what?" You chewed on the inside of your cheek, turning away. "I give up! Let's just talk whenever you're ready to be honest with me."

Your back was to him when he shouted, "You want me to be honest?" You scoffed, nodding your head. "That's what you want?" he repeated.

"Yes James!" you shouted. "That's exactly what I want!"

"Well then, fine!" He wiped a desperate hand over his face, throwing up his arms. "We kissed, alright?"

Your heart sizzled somewhere in your chest beneath your stilled lungs, every part of you halting its movements. Your expression fell slowly and you blinked at him, staring wordlessly for a moment. "What?"

James stared back at you, looking at you more than he'd looked at you in the past week altogether. The opposite of yours, his chest heaved up and down like he'd been fighting for air and could only now come up for oxygen. He didn't look like he'd misspoken and that scared you more than anything.

"We kissed. Last week. At the party."

Your lips hung, parted and confused. "What are you-"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. We kissed, and you ran off, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since."

Your eyes felt like they had a mind of their own, scanning rapidly over James and then looking at the ground, your heeled shoes, anywhere but at him because your world was shifting around you, the walls of what you thought you knew crumbling down on you.

You swallowed, throat going dry. "James," you voiced carefully. "That kiss was ..." you shook your head. "We were playing a game."

Maybe he would take the slowness of your words for sureness rather than struggle, because that along with seemingly every other emotion was what you were feeling inside.

"No, c'mon. Don't do that." James shook his head back at you and you felt like running away, but you couldn't now. Not when he was looking at you like that. "Don't try and make it seem like that was all it was, because it wasn't. Not for me, and I know it meant more to you too."

The cool breeze from before had picked up and was turning into an inexorable wind that made you feel worse than you already did. Could he see the way you had to stop yourself from shaking? Hear the way you willed your heartbeat to stop pounding? Clearly not, because he kept talking.

"For days, weeks even, all that's been on my mind was you. Do you know how hard it is to get anything done when all I can think about is my best friend kissing me?"

You felt dizzy with the way he was staring into your eyes. Like you'd voiced to yourself a million times, how James held eye contact so effortlessly was a mystery you'd never find the answer to.

"And I know you said you wanted to just pretend like the kiss never happened, but you should know that I can't do that, alright? Trust me. I've tried, and obviously that didn't work." He ran a hand through his tousled hair again. "So I just ... I need you to say something to me. Anything."

You willed yourself to speak again, blood rushing past your ears now. "I ... I don't know what to say. It was a part of a game."

James practically flinched. "Anything but that." He breathed out a laugh without any chest, tipping his head back and taking steps around. "God."

You still felt like crying, because nothing was making sense. Then James refocused on you, and you felt pinned underneath his gaze.

"You can tell me it was part of a game however many times you want." His words were achingly slow and desperate. "But tell me ... just tell me you didn't feel anything when we kissed. That it meant absolutely nothing to you, and I'll stop talking. I promise."

You knew he meant what he said; you could see it all through his hazel eyes. You'd asked for honesty and you'd gotten it. You knew that you couldn't lie to him anymore, and you said your truth with your voice was on the verge of breaking.

"I can't." Even if your voice shook, James heard it loud and clear. He stopped moving and stepped closer to you whether he noticed or not. "But that doesn't mean it can mean anything now."

If it was possible, he went even more still. His eyes pleaded with you to say more to him, so you did. "It's not fair, James." Your voice broke off, and James took both your hands in his, and held them tight near his chest, like hope pumped through them.

"What? What's not fair, Love?"

You flinched at the name you hadn't heard in seemingly forever, but it pinched at the part of your brain that remembered it vividly. You didn't know how this moment was real. You looked down at his hands that engulfed yours. "It's not fair that it meant something, because it can't."

You pretended not to notice the way James's hands loosened their hold. "Not when-" your voice hitched at the sign of your eyes blurring despite how much you'd willed them not to. "Not after I spent months—years, even—trying to make every interaction between us mean something. After I spent all that time trying to get over you! It- it's not fair, and I won't do it. I won't."

You shook your head timidly and repeatedly like it would stop what was happening. You didn't know when you and James had moved away from each other, probably somewhere between your voice breaking and your eyes watering, but you had. But that wasn't was most important.

James had gone eerily still, painfully silent. That didn't change the fact that his unforgiving eyes continued to search what seemed like every inch of your face. His voice rang out lowly.

"Get over me?" His heavy brows furrowed in hurt and bewilderment. "Wh-" he choked. "What do you mean 'get over me'?"

You put a hand to your head, amused in your disbelief. "Like you haven't known."

James took a persistent step forward, the pinch between his brows desperate. "What the hell are you talking about?"

This all felt like a bad dream you couldn't wake up from. You forced yourself to breathe. "I really can't do this right now, I-" You didn't think you could do it ever. You pulled at the hem of your dress. "I have a date."

Even with the wind whipping against you both, you'd never heard a silence like the one you did right then.

"You're really still going on that date?" James peered at you interrogatingly, his eyes slightly red now, and it killed you.

"What am I supposed to do, James?"

You wiped at your nose. James's hands were elevated at his sides like he wanted to reach out to you, but didn't. He looked like he didn't know what he wanted to do, but he didn't stop.

"You can't just go running away all because ..." he panted, "because..." His voice trailed off.

You wanted to shout at him that all you'd done since forever was stop yourself from running away, but you didn't. It wasn't his fault you'd tortured yourself all these years. But that didn't mean he could get his happy ending with the snap of his fingers, either.

Just to twist the knife in your chest, he whispered, "Please."

You dropped your gaze low to the cobblestone ground beneath your feet, blurry now through your lashes. "I need to go." The sight of him standing before you, eyes watery and lips parted helplessly, sent painful pangs through your heart. You moved your head, willing yourself to turn away and your legs to move. You didn't think you could leave if you looked him in the eyes. "I'm sorry."

Those same eyes followed you as you walked down the path, head hung low but steps quickening despite. Steps taken in the direction of The Three Broomsticks, where you'd go on your date with Sebastian. Your mind kicked and screamed at you at every step, but you couldn't get them to stop.

You felt James's eyes on your retreating form like you felt the wind snapping against your cheeks, though you didn't turn back to look at him. That way, he wouldn't be able to see the way your expression shook at the effort of just trying to keep yourself together.

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That fact didn't leave you as you sat with her and Lily in the Great Hall for dinner, a number of seats away from the other Marauders. You recognized with a skip in your heartbeat that James was with them, surprisingly enough since you knew how he was accustomed to skipping meals in the dining hall when he wanted to be alone, a habit you both unfortunately shared. But that didn't mean he was enjoying himself either.

You could see even from your seat down the table that he wasn't saying much, mostly keeping to himself quietly, something so out of character for him yet you'd seen him do it constantly the entire week. You wanted to yell at him and shake him silly, but you also wanted to hug him. When you caught yourself in the midst of those thoughts you turned back to your own spot at the table shamefully.

You tried to force yourself to eat, catching your friends' concerned looks at your full plate, but you didn't feel much like it. Especially not when you still felt maybe a dozen pairs of eyes on you from every corner of the Great Hall.

Even with all that'd happened since just that morning, the rumors and whatever else people had come up with to talk about had not yet been forgotten about by the school like your friends said it would be. Then you thought about whether news had spread of your disastrous date in Hogsmeade, and prayed that nobody had caught wind of that incident either. You didn't think you could handle any more of the staring.

Immediately after you had that thought, you spotted a fifth-year in Ravenclaw robes walking past your table, watching as he blatantly pointed at you as he spoke to his friend, and you looked down at your plate with hardened eyes.

You heard Marlene scoff from next to you. "Hey!" she called to the boy. "Didn't your mother ever tell you it was rude to point?"

The fifth-year didn't respond to her but looked to his friend, hurriedly taking a seat at his own table, his whispers being drowned out in the loudness of the dining hall.

Marlene fumed from next to you. "I can't believe these people. Are they really that bored with their own lives that they're so obsessed with a bloody rumor?"

You shook your head toying with your fork. "Just ignore them. That's what I've settled on doing."

She sighed from beside you and you thought that'd be the end of everything, until you heard gasps from down the table. You looked up and followed the sounds and were met with a sight not even the magic of Hogwarts could've prepared you for.

James—your James—had stood up on the bench he'd once been sitting in, and you thanked Merlin he wasn't standing fully on the table; though you had absolutely no idea what he could possibly be up to, you knew it couldn't be anything good. He cupped a hand to his mouth as your heartrate picked up.

"Can I have everyone's attention?"

He didn't have to ask twice for it. His voice boomed out loudly, something that seemed to come naturally to him, and the noise in the Great Hall had died out in a mere second until it was almost completely silent—quiet enough for you to hear the beating of your heart in your chest as you looked up at him. Your throat went dry.

"Not that it's any of anyone's business," he started confidently to the hundreds of eyes now looking at him, tone nothing but sober. "But nothing happened in the broom closet. Or in the locker room."

You felt the churning in your stomach claw up into your throat, then felt it drop back down, keeping you stationed in your seat. He didn't give much context to his declaration, but with the popularity of the topic amongst the school, it didn't seem like he needed to. His voice almost seemed to echo, all other noises drowning out as everyone stared up at him. James looked around the entire room appearing completely unafraid and you didn't know how the hell he did it; you probably looked more fearful than him.

"So," he began again, "I don't want to see or hear anyone talking about those rumors any longer. And if anyone has a problem with that, they can answer to me. Alright?"

Of course, nobody said anything then, but you could see in their eyes that they were going to listen to him. Or at least, they'd make sure they didn't get caught going against him. Maybe it was from his impenetrably confident voice or his respected status around the school, you weren't sure, but he had that unique effect on people in an almost effortless way.

When it was clear he'd gotten his point across, he scanned his eyes over the sea of students until they found yours. In a dizzying way, it felt like you were the only two in the room for a moment, as cliché as the thought sounded in your head.

You didn't know what had motivated him to do what he did, but you could see in his eyes something fragile that juxtaposed the self-assured look they'd had only seconds ago. He looked away again and stepped back down to floor level once more, not taking a moment before striding out of the Great Hall, his form disappearing seconds after.

Even without his physical presence, his action seemed to linger over the room for a moment more before chatter broke out once again. You were still frozen in place, not knowing if moving would finalize the idea that whatever just happened was real and not just part of some wild dream.

Marlene had confirmed that it definitely had happened, however, when she turned to you with her jaw dropped, an amazed but delighted sparkle in her eye. "Someone tell me you saw that too."

"Oh we saw it," rang Lily, who also looked much too happy about that fact, probably just relieved James's antics weren't centered on her for once. You could see them both staring at you expectantly, waiting for you to react. You could also see the boys in your peripheral, the three of them remaining at the table searching your face for a reaction.

Yet, all you could do was stand up and walk hurriedly towards the exit. Dozens of conversations rushed past your ears as you did, a blur of remarks ranging from "Potter's lost it" to "He's so bloody fit." Whatever they were saying, you noted with gratefulness in the back of your mind that none of the conversations were about you.

You reached the doorway and stopped once you were a safe distance away in the hallway, heaving breaths in for a moment to yourself before finding that you weren't alone. All of your friends had followed you without blinking an eye, and you didn't know whether you found it endearing or inconvenient. Though, to be fair, you didn't know where you were going. You just knew you couldn't sit there and pretend as if nothing had happened.

You blinked at the three boys who neared you with puzzled looks on each of their faces. "Did you guys know anything about this?"

"No," promised Sirius. "In fact, James has hardly said anything to us since this morning."

You shook your head to yourself, feeling breathless. "I can't ... believe he would do that."

"Really?" Lily stared at you. "I mean, it's Potter we're talking about. It's exactly something he would do."

You couldn't fight the smile that tugged on the corners of your lips even as you shook your head. You ran a hand over your hair as the blonde from next to you hit you in the shoulder.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" You frowned over at her as she stared at you expectantly. "Go to him."

You stilled, gaping at her. "What?"

"Go to him. Do I have to spell it out for you?"

You tipped your head at her like it would help you understand her better, parting your drying lips. "I thought you said he was a selfish git." You heard Remus snort from beside you.

"I did, sure," reasoned Marlene, not without a hint of pride. "But only because I thought he was ruining your chances of moving on now that you were over him. But seriously, I can see your face when you look at him." She shook her head. "That's not the look of someone who wants to move on."

Your eyes flickered over her face as she spoke, an infinite number of thoughts overtaking you. In the silence of your thinking, a Hufflepuff boy walked past the six of you in the hallway, staring all the while.

"What are you looking at?" snapped Marlene, turning to him without missing a beat. "Did you not just hear Potter?"

Like he'd heard him loud and clear, and also like he was scared of Marlene, he hurried away with his head bent forward. Satisfied, the blonde turned back to you. At your conflicted expression, she asked, "Well?"

You chewed on the inside of your cheek. "It's just that," you began, not even knowing where you were going with your rambling. "I've spent so long trying to get over him. It's not fair to myself to just forget all of that, and it definitely wasn't fair to Sebastian-"

"For Merlin's sake," cut in Lily, to your surprise. "You keep talking about what's fair and what's unfair, but what about you? What do you want?"

You stared at her, beginning to feel breathless under the eyes of all your friends. "It's not just about what I want. It's not that simple."

"But what if it is?" she questioned. "I know how difficult this has all been for you. And I know you said Potter doesn't just get to realize his feelings for you and suddenly be with you, that it doesn't work like that. But what if it does?" She raised her hands at her sides. "Not everything is a perfect story to tell. Especially not when it comes to you two. It's not every day you fall in love with your best friend and he finally sees that he's fallen for you too. Are you seriously going to let him go because of some made-up system of rules?"

Your breath was becoming staggering now, and you didn't know what to think, because everything they were telling you sounded so right.

"I don't know," you began unsurely. "Of course, I don't want to lose him. Not talking to him for the past week has been harder than I ever could've imagined. I don't even know what it would feel like to have to do it for longer than I already have been." You blinked down at your shoes, truly realizing those things at the same rate you said them. "I think I just ... miss him."

"Of course you miss him." Marlene looked at you sympathetically. "That's why I think you should go tell all this to him."

You felt bile rising in your throat. "I don't even know if he'd want to see me after all we've said to each other."

"Are you joking?" Remus butted in exasperatedly. "Prongs is bloody in love with you. Can't you see that?"

"Remus," you warned softly because you didn't know how much more of this hope you could take before you did something you'd regret.

"I'm telling the truth." His voice was heavy with meaning. "Maybe it took him a while to realize it himself, but the rest of us have had to sit back and watch you both act like you don't have feelings for each other for years. Believe me, the only reason he's in his room right now and not with you is because he thinks that's what you want."

Your brows pinched. "You can't truly know that."

"Really?" he laughed. "What do you think we talked about that night Vance asked you out?"

Your expression faltered and you forced yourself to think back to the night James had begun acting distant from you, though it wasn't difficult to, the storyline of it all clicking into place in your head.

"You," breathed Remus. "We talked about you."

"Not to mention," Sirius added, "we're the ones who've had to spend every night in our dorm listening to him bitch and moan about Vance this and Vance that." You swallowed at your friends' words, but they didn't quit.

"And we know James was being a right idiot today," Sirius insisted honestly. "But you should've seen him this morning right after you two argued. He was heartbroken. More than he'd ever been over Evans." He turned to the redhead in question. "No offense, Evans."

Lily rolled her eyes lightheartedly. "Trust me, Black, none taken."

He nodded and turned back to you swiftly. "So for you to think that James would want anything other than to fix things with you and just be with you is bloody mental."

You stared at all of your friends who were looking so determinedly back at you that you didn't think you could tell them 'no' now. But still, your feet didn't budge.

"It's not just that," you almost whispered. "I guess I'm just ... scared. What if it goes wrong and we get into some ridiculous fight again? What then?"

Marlene took a hold of your shoulders, slightly scaring you in her resoluteness. "Potter just stood up and yelled at the entire bloody school and you're trying to tell us you'rescared?" She shook you a little, and your friends smirked from behind her. "Be a Gryffindor for Godric's sake! Go to him!"

Before you could say anything more, she was turning you around and shoving you a little until you had the momentum you needed to take steps toward the Gryffindor common room. You made it all the way up the nearest set of steps before you paused, turning back to your friends with a grateful smile.

"Thank you, you guys." You expected them to share the sweet moment with you, but they only rolled their eyes.

"Go, woman!" Sirius groaned, and you rolled your eyes back at them, but it lacked any real annoyance.

You didn't know exactly what you were planning on doing, but you didn't have time to think about it because your legs were carrying you speedily through the halls in your anxious state and wouldn't let you stop until you reached the portrait entrance to the Gryffindor common room. Taking a steadying breath in, you said the password and entered the room.

With everyone else still being at dinner in the Great Hall, it wasn't exactly difficult to find James. He sat in the common room, his brunette head of curls visible to you in the low light. They covered the majority of his face that you could see, his head tipped downwards with his elbows resting on his knees. That changed within the blink of an eye as you entered the room, his head swiftly lifting until he locked eyes with you, and you had to fight a shiver at the feeling it sent shuddering through you.

He seemed to think you were just going to go to your own dorm and ignore him, and he averted his eyes to look somewhere else, maybe the fireplace, until you left—but you didn't. You only walked closer to him until you were separated by only one of the couches, the distance still small enough to make your breathing quicken.

At the soundlessness of your stilled footsteps, James looked back up and met your eyes again, and he swallowed. Clearly, he hadn't expected you to make any move to talk to him that night, even after the scene he'd made in the Great Hall. The problem was that you hadn't expected yourself to either, and now you didn't know what you wanted to say first, because there were certainly a million things you had to make sure he knew.

"Thank you," you said, because you figured it was a good place to start. He nodded up at you, his eyes not revealing much of anything, but you didn't let that sway you. "You didn't have to do that, you know."

"Of course I did." His voice was stubborn, but too sincere for how little his expression gave away.

You looked down at your feet, letting a moment pass before speaking again. "Well, now it seems like everyone is going to be talking about you from now on."

"That doesn't matter to me." James's voice cut through the air richly, and when you looked back up from the floor he was staring at you meaningfully. "They can say whatever the hell they want. As long as they're not talking about you."

Your shoulders dropped at his words, and the way he held your eyes as he said them made your heart beat faster in your chest. It hadn't even been a full day since you'd last spoken to him, but you already missed him.

"They wouldn't leave you alone," he said concretely, his tone beginning to fill with emotion. "And then, I heard what Marlene said in the common room, about some girl harassing you in the library? I-" he shook his head frustratedly, rubbing at his forehead with one of his hands. "I'm just mad at myself that I've let it go on for this long. Or that I didn't even know that happened."

You already felt too emotional for your liking, the feelings inside of you swirling more aggressively at every word he said to you. "It's not like it's your fault, James."

"Well it's not like I did much to stop it, did I?" He seemed genuinely angry at himself now, and you didn't know what you could do to help. A painful lump was rising in your throat, but you stayed rooted in your spot behind the sofa. "And I'd ask you why you didn't come and tell me, but that'd be a bloody stupid question."

He shook his head, eyes becoming wistful like he was recalling a memory, one that pained him. "Earlier, when Marlene was defending you in the common room, the look on your face was ... I don't know. Crushed. Sad."

You swallowed at the memory, because that had been exactly how you were feeling, amongst thousands of other ways. James looked down at his lap.

"I just wanted to try and help, do anything to make that look on your face go away, but I couldn't. So I just kept replaying how you looked in my head, and the more I thought about it, the more I hated myself because I realized you were only hurting because of me. And that was the worst part. Realizing that it was all my fault."

You felt yourself wanting to take a step towards him, wanting to just reach out to him as the tips of your fingers teemed with the longing you felt in your chest. "James," you began, your voice hushed. "It's not all your fault."

You meant it. To try and say to yourself that you had no part in all the confusion between the two of you would be a blatant lie, one that you couldn't let James go on believing, especially not with the pained look on his face.

He only shook his head at you. "It is," he insisted. "And here you go, being perfect towards me when I don't deserve it." A muscle worked overtime in his jaw. "Marlene was right. I was being selfish, and petty, and a lot of other things, but most importantly, I wasn't being a good friend." He paused, a grieving confliction tugging at his brow. "That's ... that's not what friends do."

You went still then too, the word 'friend' hanging in the air between you with a weight that only made you tired. The truth was that cobwebs had grown in the house where you'd fostered that unforgiving title, and it felt like some intangible force had locked you both inside with it blindly.

"Yeah, well," you began, your voice small, "we've been doing plenty of things that friends don't do, lately.Like you said, we kissed, right?" You let out a breathy sound like a laugh that lacked any joy, and the way James's eyes flickered up at you knocked the rest of the air right out of you.

"About that," he began hesitantly, and you could tell he was thinking about both the night it'd happened and that morning when you'd fought, just like you were. "I know you don't want that to mean anything, so it- ... it doesn't have to. Even if I want it to. Because it doesn't matter what I want—what matters to me is you."

You were thankful you had the couch next to you to brace a hand on, because you'd never felt so swept up by a conversation and you weren't sure how much longer you could stand the way your heart was nagging at you.

"You were right," swore James, but the slight shake of his eyes back and forth on your face didn't look as adamant as he sounded. "It's not fair for me to expect something from you when you already got over me."

The words you'd shouted at him in Hogsmeade that morning sounded foreign and wrong coming from his lips, and you knew the months of dishonesty that laced them like you knew the back of your hand.

"And it's too late now, I get that." His voice went from deep and determined to on the cusp of breaking, and it killed you. "I just want to know that you're happy, and if being happy means being with Vance instead of me, then ... I can deal with that."

You watched as he swallowed, like he was forcing the words to come from his lips even if it pained him. The way he hadn't broken eye contact with you the whole while was starting to make your head spin.

Your blinking sped up, maybe holding back the emotion you knew you was fighting to come out, and you whispered, "James."

Maybe you hadn't been loud enough, or maybe he just knew you'd try to disagree with him again, but he only continued determinedly at you.

"I know I probably went and ruined your chances with Vance, like an idiot, but I'm going to do whatever it takes to get you another date with him." He nodded at you once firmly, and within a second he was standing up, taking an intentional step forward. "Hell, I'll even go talk to him right now and-"

"James," you called again, louder this time. "Stop."

You put a hand out and it landed on his arm softly but firmly, and all you could was pray you could find the right words to say to him as he stared at you, level with you now in an unsteadying way.

"You didn't ruin my chances with Sebastian. It wouldn't have worked out regardless, even if I'd wanted it to. Because being with him isn't what I want." You shook your head, recalling back what James had said to you only moments before. "He wouldn't have made me happy." You sounded desperate now. "He's not you."

James stilled, his glistening eyes the only thing showing movement as they danced across your face intensely, though you saw them widen with something bright like hope. "What?"

The confusion of the word that he'd practically whispered out unspeakably attested to how you felt yourself, the terrain of the land you were exploring right there and then with James uncharted and rocky. You pushed on, knowing there was no going back now.

"Marlene wasn't completely right, James. She only said all of those things because I'd spent all this time trying to convince her—and myself—that I didn't still have feelings for you. But I do, clearly." You tipped your head down for a moment in exasperation and exhaustion, willing yourself to keep going. "Everyone can see it. All of our friends. Hell, even Sebastian could see it." You laughed, though your eyes were growing blurry. "So for me to try to push those feelings down any longer would just be lying to you and to myself." You let out an exasperated breath. "And I'm so sick of lying."

Your shoulders sunk as you stood there, a steadily shrinking distance between you and James that was both comforting and daunting to you. You couldn't do anything but watch as James's face stilled and then shifted as he thought, studying your own face in a way that made you conscious of every shift in your expression.

"I just," he began, and then raked a hand through his hair. "Why did you feel like you needed to hide how you felt in the first place?"

You felt your mouth go dry at the question—one you knew came only out of a desperate curiosity and nothing else—and your mind began spinning. The last few years of your friendship seemed to swirl in your head, flickering in and out of focus as you tried to come up with an answer.

"I-" you began, willing yourself to say something, anything at all. "I was scared." The words rang true so much that they made your heart pinch. "Scared that you wouldn't feel the same and I'd go and ruin everything. That I'd lose you."

James's hands lifted up from his sides like he wanted to reach out to you, and he did. He took your hand in his, grasping lightly at your fingertips in a touch that steadied you and made you feel lightheaded at the same time. He shook his head at you with a firm hold in his brow.

"You could never lose me."

His lips were parted, and his hazel eyes glistened over in the low common room lighting like the thought of your suggestion was painful enough on its own. Looking at him then, his face lined with years of a comforting, steadying familiarity, you knew deep in your chest that what he said was true. But that didn't alter all that you'd felt for the past number of years.

"It's not just that," you said, looking down at his hand that held yours and blinking away the guilt that crept into your stomach, because it wasn't James's fault that you had felt this way. "Even in Hogsmeade, James." Your voice was becoming unsteady again and it only frustrated you more. "What if everything you said you felt for me was just some spur-of-the-moment thing from some kiss? What if you didn't feel the same way a week from now? Or a month? I knew I wouldn't be able to get over that fear. Especially when I'd been hiding how I felt from you for years. And then there were your feelings for Lily to think about and ... I don't know."

You trailed off, finally able to stop yourself. You felt petty, so petty, because you were so close to getting what you knew your heart wanted, but you felt the insistent need to ruin things for yourself and think of every way things could go wrong. You'd never felt closer to James then, but also never farther away. All you could do was stand there and wait for him to say something, anything.

James stayed unmoving for a beat staring at you, wordlessly taking everything in with a fragility in the air that hallowed your labored breathing. Then he started to shake his head like he was in disbelief. He ran a hand through his brown hair.

"For Merlin's sake."

His voice was low, a mutter, and he stared at the ground for a moment in thought before dropping the hand that once held yours, turning and walking away from you, leaving up the steps to his dorm room. You watched his back as he disappeared, your fingertips feeling cold and empty.

You felt your blinking speed up in a dizzying confusion. You didn't know what had come over you, not even sure exactly what you'd said in all of your desperate rambling that had made him decide to leave, but your vision started to blur even more than it already had until you recognized the wetness forming beside your eyes.

Nothing made sense. Not then, and not in the last twenty-four hours. You moved until you were sitting down on the couch in front of you, feeling lightheaded as the fireplace crackled a few feet away. The light from outside had left with the sun and the room had a comforting kind of warm lighting, though even that did little to soothe you as you sat there with all the unresolved feelings within you.

You were confused and lost and wanted nothing more than to just fix things, but you were even more at a loss for words when you heard quick footsteps coming from the staircase James had left from, and then saw his returning form making its way down the steps.

You turned your head to him swiftly in confusion, following him and his soft but energetic steps as he came to sit next to you, and that was when you noticed he was holding something—a box. One that was tattered on the corners, its black fabric aged and dusting over.

You wiped at your eyes quickly, brows tugging in all your bewilderment as you waited for James to explain.

"I-" he began, and stopped as soon as his eyes focused more on your face. You must've looked as broken as you felt, and at seeing the look on your face, he held one of your hands in his before swiping across your cheek gently with the pad of his thumb.

You felt like wilting under his soft touch that you'd missed more than anything in the confusing weeks, mentally and physically exhausted from everything but still wanting more than anything to understand.

When you looked perhaps more stable, he looked back at the box that he'd set down beside him and placed it on his lap delicately as he spoke, his words echoing out slowly.

"I know you think I've just realized my feelings for you a week ago, and that they came from some kiss at a party. But, you have to believe me when I say that they're so much more than that." He placed the box in your hands, and you took it from him with a note of fragility, resting it atop your legs. His eyes bore into yours, like it would break him if you couldn't understand the words leaving his lips. He took a shaky breath in. "I need you to know, more than anything, that you're everything to me. You always have been."

Your lips began to shake at the earth-shattering words coming from your best friend's lips. "James, what-"

He stopped you with a gesture of his head that told you to look inside the box, and you did. Carefully, you lifted the flimsy cardboard top and placed it to the side, brows pulling together tight and something loud and hearty threatening to pull from your chest. You shook your head as tears began to well over your eyes again as you recognized what James had given you.

The box, the measly and old mess of cardboard and paper, was full of all the letters you'd written to him over the years—all the thank you notes, the letters you'd sent him from that summer and all the past ones—every single one of them. Your eyes raked over each of them when you felt too stunned to use your hands, but your heart still felt touched by the memories of each one all the same. It took everything in you not to release the sob you felt rising in your lungs.

"It's you. It's always been you."

James's eyes never left your face as you took everything in, the look behind them never having seemed so determined, so desperate. But there was something behind the way he looked at you, something so warm and honest, so familiar that you felt ridiculous for never noticing it before. And when your gaze flickered downward for a second in contemplation he tipped his head to follow it endearingly.

"Always," he promised. "Not Evans, not anyone else. I know I'm a bloody idiot, and I know I haven't been great at showing my emotions when it comes to you, but that's because it's you, and you mean everything to me and have since we were kids, and if this can't make you see that then I promise I'll spend every day trying to make up for it, and-"

"James." You stopped him, not knowing how much longer you could take sitting next to him and not getting rid of the frustrated crease between his brows, or how much longer you could ignore the thrum of your heart that called out to him so clearly now.

"Yeah?" he asked, and his eyes were like a deer in headlights. The warmth in their color reflected the simmering warmth from the fireplace, but that didn't compare to the fire that lay behind his gaze.

You placed the box, his box of the last six years of your friendship and then some, atop the couch next to you, and didn't wait another second before engulfing him in a hug. Your body crashed into his as he leaned back against the couch, his hands coming up to embrace you right away, and you heard him breathe a smile by your ear before he laughed, a perfect noise.

You felt like laughing then too, and crying, and everything else, because you couldn't remember the last time you'd gotten to hold him like this without the fear of revealing too much to him nagging at you. Your cheek pressed against his neck, his curls fanned against the top of your head, his hands held you tight, and you never wanted to leave the safety of his arms. Except to do one thing.

You pulled away from the hug and so did James after a second, his eyes wide and glistening but truly happy. He was smiling widely, his lopsided grin appearing after days like the sun after a storm, and you loved the sight more than anything, locking it away in the back of your mind as a memory you'd keep forever, like the box that sat next to you.

You laid a hand on his chest, another on his cheek, and James grasped the one that was flattened on his chest in his own, quickly glancing down at your hand in his like he couldn't believe he was holding it. He pulled you into him with it and leaned his head on yours.

"It's always been you, too," you whispered, and his eyes glanced down at your lips as you said the quiet words that'd been lingering on your lips for much too long. You had to push away your smile because you were aching to just kiss him like you'd wanted to for years. With a courage that could've only come from Godric himself, you finally did.

You leaned in until your lips met, a flutter of skin dancing shyly together until you leaned into him even further, and suddenly it felt like the crash of a wave, and sounded like the earth was moving beneath your feet, the sound of something right—and this time, you knew it felt the same for him too, because you could feel his boyish grin that you'd spent years admiring tugging against your lips.

You were kissing your best friend. For real this time. It felt so impossible for your mind to imagine such a thing, but luckily it didn't have to.

James moved his hands but they never left you, one sliding through your hair smoothly and one delicately holding your waist like you were something fragile. Butterflies fluttered through you at his touch, something familiar but foreign, wrong but also right, and somessilyperfect. You couldn't believe you'd spent all those years just a few words away from getting to feel it, getting to be surrounded by it.

You pulled away after a moment, your lips feeling puffy and burning with the heat of his kiss, but all you could think about was how free you felt, how happy you were that he was finally yours.

James looked down at you, his eyes dancing all across your face and stopping on your lips, and then somehow growing even warmer when they met yours again.

"I can't-" he began with a slight disbelieving shake of his head, voice coming out breathless and dazed as heat flushed into your own cheeks at the sight. "I can't believe..."

You laughed, feeling out of breath too, and adjusted the glasses that now perched crookedly on James's nose in an agonizingly cute way.

"Me neither," you finished for him, because you knew just how he felt, a secret the both of you shared; it was the only secret you still wanted to keep.

And it was a feeling you never wanted to have to live without again. Though now, with him in your arms and his familiar chocolate curls still brushing against your forehead, you knew you would never have to.

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You settled into one of the upper-level infield seats after James so graciously offered to pay for the tickets and practically everything else the entire day, even with all your resisting. He hadn't held back with his spending, both of your hands tucked underneath foam fingers, with a baseball helmet full of buttery popcorn sitting on your lap.

James looked so in his element from beside you, wearing the baseball jersey you'd pointed out in the merchandise section on your way into the stadium, his hair lightly shifting in the warm summer breeze. He looked roguishly handsome in what he classified as 'muggle clothing' to you with a harmless roll of his eyes, but you selfishly loved the sight. Though, more than anything, he seemed like he was enjoying himself, and that was what mattered most to you.

"What's that?" You watched as James pointed a foam finger up diagonally towards what looked like just the blue afternoon sky, until you followed his line of vision to the large screen in the distance. You let a thin smile overtake your features at his curiosity.

"That's the Jumbotron." You picked up a piece of popcorn and threw it into your mouth, James shaking off his foam finger and stealing a handful from the bowl on your lap with a lopsided grin.

"The jumbo what?"

You held back your laugh. "The jumbotron. It's a big screen they put at sports stadiums. Like a TV, only a lot bigger."

James squinted from beside you. "Who wants to watch a 'TV' when they're at a baseball game?"

The corners of your eyes crinkled at the way the word 'TV' sounded so foreign from his lips, and you shook your head. "It's not actually a TV. They show what's going on in the game on a big screen so everyone can see it. But they use it for other stuff too. Sometimes they'll have interactive games or use it as a kiss cam."

"A kiss cam?" James only sounded more confused then, his brows pulling together, but that time around the corners of his lips were quirking up with amusement.

You couldn't help your laugh at his intrigue. You shook your head to yourself. "It's kind of a dumb tradition, really." He nodded at you to continue, eyes sweet. "Basically, when the kiss cam comes on, the cameramen find random people in the audience and put them on the screen. Whoever comes up on the screen is meant to kiss."

 You watched James's features curl into both amusement and horror. He blinked his warm eyes at you. "So they just go around making strangers kiss each other?"

You giggled. "Not strangers," you chided. "It usually only lands on couples."

"How are they supposed to know who's a couple and who's not?"

You shrugged. "I suppose you can always just kind of tell." Looking away from him and his incredulous stare and down at your lap, you set your bowl of popcorn in James's lap instead. "I'm gonna use the bathroom."

James took a light hold of your wrist as you stood up, sitting up straighter in his seat to look up at you. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, that's alright," you told him. "You should watch our seats." You turned around towards the stairs to your left but paused to turn around one last time. "And tell me what I missed once I get back."

James tipped his head at you, saluting you playfully, and you smiled before leaving. You were more than satisfied with how the day was going and let your smile creep up on your lips the entire way to the restroom and back. You returned after a few minutes, having to scan the sea of baseball fans for the head of unruly brown curls you were so familiar with. You found him after a quick beat when he turned around, waving you over as his features lit warmly. You made your way down the concrete steps, scooting your way past a few people before finding your seat again.

"What'd I miss?" you asked, settling into the plastic chair underneath you as James held up the almost empty bowl of popcorn for you to take some. You did, and you didn't miss the way he placed his arm around the back of your seat carefully, his body heat emitting even underneath the summer sun.

"Nothing much," James answered casually. "But one of the guys hit the ball all the way into the stands."

Your eyes widened comically as you sat up to face him. "You mean he hit a home run?"

James paused momentarily at your reaction, and it was like you could visibly see him tracing through all the baseball vocabulary you'd gone over with him at the start of the game. "I think so."

"What team was it?"

He blinked at you and your probably anxious tone, panicking as he shrugged. "You think I know the names?"

You tipped your head at him amusedly as you took a breath in. "What color was the guy wearing?"

"Uh, maybe blue?" At that, you nodded happily, facing forward again. "Or maybe it was black. I don't have my glasses on."

You looked over at him exasperatedly but still felt the urge to laugh. You nudged him in the shoulder when you could see he felt badly for his scorekeeping skills, or lack of them. "It's alright. We can just check the scoreboard."

He seemed to calm at that, following your line of vision out into the field, when he paused. "Hey, isn't that the kiss cam you were talking about?"

You shifted your gaze to his nodding head, and then over the Jumbotron, and saw with familiarity that it was, in fact, time for the kiss cam. Lighthearted music played in the background as the larger-than-life screen lit up, pink hearts surrounding it and serving as a border to the people the screen displayed.

"Oh my God, it is," you breathed, lightly hitting James on the knee a few times in excitement. He chuckled from beside you, both of your eyes locking on the screen with interest as it pointed itself to different couples around the stadium. A few older couples were displayed, one pair of teenagers probably on a date, and a mother and father whose kids were cringing from beside them, but all of them turned to kiss the other without a word in protest, the stands applauding each time.

You smiled fondly, turning to the man beside you. "See James, it's not creepy. It's sweet, isn't it?"

"Yeah yeah," he placated with a playful roll of his eyes. "You're such a romantic."

You dropped your jaw for a moment before pointing a finger at his chest accusatorially. "As if you're not one, Potter."

The sides of his mouth lifted up into a charming grin and he pulled you into his side, ruffling your hair. You scrunched up your features, pushing away from him as you shot him a glare without any real annoyance, feeling your cheeks ache from your smile.

Shaking your head, you turned away from James and back towards the field, but stopped moving almost right away. Your heart stilled in your chest.

"Oh my God."

At your words, James turned worriedly from you to look where you were. When his gaze landed on the Jumbotron, his face lit up.

Stating the obvious, you swallowed. "It's showing us."

James looked between you and the ginormous screen across the field that was showing both you and him from where you sat, and beamed as the crowd began to clap and whoop. He waved out at the screen like the extrovert he was, looking like he was enjoying himself way too much as you stayed frozen in your seat.

When the camera didn't pan away and the crowd became louder, he turned to you, speaking out of the side of his mouth. "They don't seem very happy."

You shook your head, tone strained. "They want us to kiss, James."

You looked up at the screen that showed the two of you, watching your shocked and quite frankly mortified expression reflected back to you, almost funny in comparison to James's glowing smile.

"Well, let's give the people what they want."

Your head snapped over to a calm James as your brows tugged. "Wh-" you sputtered. "We can't do that."

"Why not?" James questioned, and when he looked back out at the crowd with his bright expression they began roaring excitedly. "It's the kiss cam!"

"The kiss cam is for couples." You emphasized the word, looking around at the people seated around you who couldn't only see you but hear you. You lowered your voice insecurely. "We're not a couple."

"It doesn't seem like they care." James gestured back to the screen, pink hearts now outlining the image of both of you from afar, an almost satirical sight that left you reeling.

You looked back down at your lap, and then at James pointedly. "That's because they think we're a couple."

Though, when you looked up at the screen, you couldn't ignore the fact that the two of you sort of did look like a couple. With James's arm thrown over the back of your seat, and the way you were both subconsciously sitting on the insides of your seats and leaning into each other, the mistake wasn't totally non-understandable. The fact only made heat rise to your cheeks.

James shook his head as his smile stayed plastered on his face, and you sighed. The Jumbotron was somehow still displaying the two of you, and the stands were still loud in anticipation. Like the supervillain you were, you shook your head back and forth. When they began to boo, you gestured between you and James, mouthing repeatedly "We're friends!", though the crowd didn't seem to care. You could hear James snorting from next to you.

Finally, even with the stands still roaring, the camera panned away to display the next couple—not that you and James were one—and you felt like you could finally breathe again.

"Jesus," you huffed, feeling like you'd just run some sort of marathon, and James shook his head at you fondly. For some reason you found it much too difficult to look him in the eyes, so you kept your eyes trained on the field.

When you felt the shifting of his shoulders from next to you followed by uneven breathing, you snapped your head to look at James. "Are you laughing at me?"

"No!" he swore, innocently putting his hands up, though the amused smirk on his lips didn't try to hide itself.

You sighed, ignoring the man to your right and turning back to face the field again, but you regretted that choice right away when you saw your reflection staring back at you through the Jumbotron once again.

"Oh my God," you swore again as the stands rumbled with encouraging shouts. This time around, you were quick to hide your face in James's chest. You didn't need to look up at him to know that he was still unbothered by the whole situation, feeling the way his chest lifted softly up and down with laughter from beneath you.

"Who the hell is controlling this thing?" Your panicked words came out muffled into James's baseball jersey. Whether he understood them or not, he put his hand around your shoulder, rubbing at it soothingly.

"I thought you said they were sweet," he challenged, and when you pulled away from him again he had a shit-eating grin on his face.

You pursed your lips, turning to look up at the Jumbotron and the pink hearts surrounding you and James, and the crowd went somehow even louder. At the absurdity of it all, you let a laugh escape you, looking down at your lap.

"Come on," James cooed, his arm still on your shoulder comfortingly. "What's the harm?"

You glanced up at him and his eyes, warm like honey, and stopped to think to yourself. Really, what was the harm?

When you didn't say anything, James looked between the stands and you. Then he leaned forward until he was level with your nervous face, voice going soft. "Alright," he gave in. "We don't have to if you're uncomfortable."

You chewed at the inside of your cheek as James turned away again towards the crowd, waving his hand at the camera as if to say 'Move on.' They only booed and kept on shouting.

You couldn't identify the feeling growing in your chest, but you knew it was a new feeling. You looked up at the Jumbotron and at your and James's reflections in it—truly looking the part of a 'couple'—and at the people in the stands that seemed to beckon to you, and then at James. He looked good—too good. His jawline was sharp and stern as he looked out at the crowd, lashes fanning against his face effortlessly, and his unruly hair shined perfectly in underneath the sun. Worst of all, you recognized just how much you missed the grin that'd been on his face all day, and wanted to see it nothing more than to see it again.

You didn't know what had come over you, when you said, "Screw it," but the words came out low enough that it came as a surprise to James when you reached out a hand to his cheek.

He turned to look at you with little effort on your part, surprise taking over his features before it shifted into amused interest, pink lips curling up as he looked down at you.

You were nervous under his gaze, and surely the thousands of others that were observing all of this through the jumbo screen, but his seemed like the only one that mattered in that moment. Before you could grow too nervous and chicken out, you closed the distance between you with a hand on the back of his neck.

Sparks flittered through you right away, starting from your lips and rushing through the rest of you. The way the entire stadium roared in the background, the sound meeting your ears like the crash of a symbol, had your cheeks heating and your lips curving up in a smile.

You felt James's boyish grin pressing against your lips, growing as you tugged at the hair by the nape of his neck, and you loved the feeling.

When you finally pulled away, you felt out of breath. You knew it didn't help that the kiss cam was still pinned on you, but the way James was looking down at you certainly wasn't helping either. His eyes raked over your face with wonder, cheeks flushed, his lips a deepened pink color from the pressure of the kiss, but he didn't look like he minded.

"Wow," he said, and you fought the urge to hide your face in his neck at his breathlessness. "You should take me to baseball games more often."

"Why should I, Cassidy?"

The brunette responded to you fully in character, leaning back against a nearby vanity with his long legs crossed in front of him as you sat in your cushioned chair. He apparently got out of hair and makeup in under a matter of minutes, looking effortlessly put together with his curls hanging perfectly over his forehead—you didn't have the same luck. Your lovely makeup artist Mary seemed to be unbothered by the interruptions, continuing on with your makeup as you rehearsed your lines, though you caught her amused smile every once in a while from her reflection in the mirror.

"Because..." you began, trying to stay in character as your brain scrambled for your next line.

"You're supposed to say," cut in James, "'-because we can only trust each other right now.'"

"Please stop telling me my lines, James." You repeated the irritated request you'd uttered all morning to him as you put a tired hand to the bridge of your nose, one that Mary moved away hurriedly.

"Watch your makeup," she pleaded with a powder-filled brush to your nose , and you winced apologetically.

"Did you just want me to stand here and wait for you to remember them?" James's voice poked at you irritatingly as you stared up at him from your seat.

"Yes, that's exactly what I want." You fought from rolling your eyes. "You could at least give me a second. I didn't even ask for my line."

He raised his brows with an acquiescent sigh. "Whatever the lady wants."

Ignoring him, a skill you were growing like a muscle, you cleared your throat in focus, trying not to move too much as Mary blended some product on your neck. "Because we can only trust each other right now."

James quickly jumped back into character, right on time. "That didn't mean anything to you the other night."

"I already told you I'm sorry for that. When I heard all the rumors, I ..." you cursed at yourself as your mind drew another painful, embarrassing blank.

"-I didn't know what to think." James looked anything but guilty as his voice met your ears once again, finishing your line for you without fail.

"James!" You glared at him, doing your best to stay out in your chair and not storm out of the trailer he'd so brazenly infiltrated. You shook your head to yourself through your reflection in the brightly lit mirrors . "You're impossible."

James shrugged innocently. "I don't get why you're mad at me for trying to help."

"I'm not."

He scoffed, putting a dramatic hand to his chest. "So is this what you look like when you're happy with me?" The corner of his aggravating lips lifted along with his shoulder in a small shrug, before turning away again. "Isn't very much like how I've pictured it."

You didn't miss the way Mary let out a small breath of laughter from her nose as she switched over to doting on your hair. You gritted your teeth.

"I mean, I'm not mad at you for helping. I'm mad at you because you're annoying."

He crossed his arms defensively, his lips still quirked up, and you fought against the urge within you that had your eyes following the movement of his biceps. "I'm annoying?"

The feigned disbelief in his voice snapped your back to your right mind.

"Yes," you answered plainly. "You and your posh accent."

Maybe you'd stopped making sense, but it was too early for you to care. James was watching your meltdown with what you could only identify as merriment, his unfortunately unignorable presence taking up too much space in the cramped makeup trailer.

Thankfully choosing to ignore the part about his accent, he put up his hands innocently. "Last time I checked, I wasn't the one who keeps forgetting their lines."

"We just got the updated script for this episode last night." You shifted in your chair to face him, and you heard Mary wince from behind you, probably getting fed up with how much you were moving around, though you were too annoyed to stop yourself. "How the hell are you already off-book?"

James shrugged smugly, shoving his hands in his pockets as he leaned forward. You squinted your eyes at him. "An actor never reveals his secrets, love."

You twisted your mouth in disgust at his words—because you definitely felt something as he said them, whether it was disgust or not you didn't want to think about—and probably only made him more satisfied. "Mary," you groaned, looking at her through the mirror in front of you. "I think I'm going to be sick."

She shook her head and gave your reflection a sharp look back. "Not in that freshly ironed shirt you're not."

You sighed, settling back into your chair and sparing another glance at the man to your right. He tipped his head at you, almost tauntingly, and you felt your jaw tighten. It was going to be a long day.

2. Everyone else seemed to love him

You'd been going about your Thursday innocently, filming scenes when called upon—finally having memorized all your lines properly—and somehow getting through the morning without any irritating interactions with your least favorite person on set at the moment. That good feeling, of course, could only last so long.

"What's this?"

Minerva, your director, had been walking around set with you until you both stopped at the sight of a crowd forming outside one of the sets. You followed her, making your way through the crowd of your fellow actors and crew members until you were met with a nauseating sight: James Potter.

At the sight of your director, his already proud smile grew to a beaming one, almost blinding, as he greeted her. "We've all been really busy with this week's filming schedule, Minnie, and you mentioned what a hassle it's been ordering enough food for everyone every day with our budget, so I pulled some strings and got my family's chef to cater our lunch."

Your jaw slacked as he nodded his head to his left, where a number of tables were set up with what looked like pizza ingredients, a moustached-man in a chef hat standing behind the scene proudly. You couldn't believe your eyes. Apparently, neither could the woman next to you.

"Oh my- James this is ... amazing!" Minerva—or Minnie, as James somehow had grown accustomed to calling her—turned to your co-star, expression as bright and beaming as James's crowd-pleasing smile was. "But you shouldn't have gone to all this trouble-"

"It was no trouble at all. Francis was more than happy to help."

He waved a hand at the chef, who you assumed was the 'Francis' in question, who nodded back at him happily with a pizza cutter in his hand. It was like something out of a movie, the way everyone clapped for James who stood at the front of the crowd like the beloved man he was. You felt sick to your stomach.

"What's wrong? Do you not like the pizza?"

You'd taken your lunch shamefully, making sure to hide your amazement at the endless selection of pizza toppings that James had arranged at the build-your-own-pizza station, and were sitting with Remus, who you'd met at auditions for the show and luckily got casted in a role other than one that'd gone to James, and Sirius, another one of your co-stars who you'd quickly become friends with since you spent practically all your time on set nowadays.

You looked up at Remus briefly before returning your gaze to the pizza in front of you, the perfect slice underneath the sun seeming to taunt you. "No," you grumbled. "The pizza's amazing."

Sirius chuckled. "You'd think you'd be happy about that."

"I would, aside from the fact that it was Potter who brought it in."

The black-haired man tipped his head at you curiously. "What's your problem with James again?"

You shook your head forebodingly. "Don't tell me he's brainwashed you both with his hundred-dollar pizza too."

"I doubt the pizza's that much money." Remus bit into the slice in his hand, talking through the bite. "But it is pretty delicious."

"It is," Sirius nodded. "It was pretty nice of him to cover lunch for the day. If anything, you'd think you'd like him more for this."

You groaned. "He brought in his family's private chef, for God's sake. It's not like he rescued a cat from a tree or something."

Sirius and Remus shared a look as you spoke. You knew you sounded ridiculous, but you currently lacked enough dignity to care as yet another slice of pizza sat on your plate, ready to be eaten.

"James is actually a really nice lad," reasoned Sirius. "Take it from us. We kind of grew up with him."

That fact had yet to escape you as soon as you'd met the two of them. According to the stories they'd relayed to you, Remus's mum had been an on-set tutor to James growing up when he was acting in some movie, while Sirius's parents had been producers for some of James's parents' films. Safe to say, the three of them certainly left you feeling inexperienced in the world of acting.

"James should be the least of your worries," urged Remus. "He's harmless."

"If he's so harmless, then why has he gone out of his way to be a pain in my ass since I met him?"

Sirius snorted. "We said he's harmless, not that he's not an idiot sometimes."

"But," Remus added, "whatever James has done, just know that it always comes from a good place. The man doesn't have a mean bone in his body."

You sighed inwardly. The James Potter you knew seemed to be very different from the one that everyone else seemed to be familiar with, and it was driving you crazy.

3. He was an obnoxious flirt

When you said 'flirt', you not only meant that he flirted with you—unfortunately—but that he seemed to flirt with anyone in sight, whether he realized it or not. In fact, you'd been forced to watch as he smooth-talked one of the hairstylists on set for the past ten minutes.

You couldn't hear everything they were saying, thank god, but you were sure she was probably more charmed by the fact that his last name was Potter than anything he could remotely come up with to win her over. You'd had enough conversations with him to know that the movie-star smiles he offered were enough to charm people before they realized just how insufferable he was.

After what felt like hours, he said something to the woman in parting and left her looking flushed and smiley as he strolled away. You sighed, happy to finally be rid of distractions, and looked back down at the script on your lap that you were trying to memorize but stopped almost immediately as you felt an unwelcome presence lingering from in front of you. You looked up and fought a groan.

James tipped his head at you innocently. "You wanted me?"

You tensed at his phrasing and did your best to go back to ignoring him as you focused back on your script. "I did not."

Not taking the hint, as usual, he stayed put, shoving his hands in his well-tailored pockets. "Well, you've been staring at me for the past ten minutes, so I just assumed you had something to say."

"Well, you assumed wrong." You gave him a tight-lipped smile from where you sat. "And I wasn't staring. I just miraculously found it hard to concentrate on memorizing lines when you were harassing that hairstylist right next to me."

He squinted at you quizzically before shaking his head, finding your banter more amusing than you probably were. "Admit it. You're obsessed with me."

You scoffed, blinking rapidly to truly portray your disbelief. "You wish. Reality is, Potter—I think I hate you."

James peered at you with a glint in his eye like he'd never heard anything more amusing, leaning back against the wall next to you. "You think?"

You shrugged tightly. "The jury hasn't come to a decision just yet." You thought back to the unfortunately delicious pizza he'd provided, and all the things that Remus and Sirius had said to you that stood in stark contrast to practically every other experience you'd had with him.

James grinned, finding teasing you the most entertaining part of his day, even on set for a TV show. "So I still have a chance?"

His eyes glistened and you reeled. "A chance to what? Did you not hear the 'hate' part?"

"Hate is a strong word, don't you think?"

You shook your head. "Strong, but appropriate."

"Ouch." He touched his hand to his chest in that dramatic way he always did, something you blamed on his actor roots. "Your words hurt, you know." You rolled your eyes, truly trying then to get back to memorizing your lines so James would have nothing over you during filming the next day, but he didn't seem to care. "Look, I get it. You said you hate me. But really, I don't think you do."

You sighed, setting your script aside as you looked up at him with finality. "And why is that, Potter?"

"Because," James began, and you didn't like the tease in his tone as he looked down at you. "A little birdie told me you had some say in whether or not they cast me in South Bay. And that you actually encouraged it."

Your lips parted, those words being the last ones you expected him to say after weeks had gone by since the chemistry read. You didn't know who'd ratted you out, but whoever did would be getting a stern talking to. Or a partially stern one, since they were more than likely your boss.

You shrugged weakly at him. "That ... that doesn't mean anything."

James's thick brow lifted effortlessly. "So you're not denying it?"

At his challenging look, you relented with a drop of your shoulders. "I'm not. It's true; I told Minerva I think they should choose you to play Aaron becuase you are good at your job, James. As much as it annoys me. I mean, you're clearly a great actor, you get all your lines memorized overnight, not to mention the entire crew is in love with you for some reason-"

"Oh, I see."

You paused, looking at the way James's slight grin turned into a shit-eating one. "What?"

He tipped his head at you tauntingly. "You're jealous."

You let out a laugh harsher than you meant it to be. "Please. There's nothing about you I could possibly waste my energy being jealous over."

The brunette tutted, and you hated the feeling it sent through you. "For such a great actress, you're not a very good liar."

You felt your breathing shallow for a moment, not knowing what to do with the compliment that flowed so easily from his lips like he hadn't given it a second thought. You pushed the thought aside, focusing on the insult part of his statement instead, and rolled your eyes.

"Look," James continued at your expression. "Jealous or not, we're going to have to work together on this show for God knows how many more months. Years even, if it gets renewed for a second season." The thought both filled you with excitement and dread as it came from James's lips. He looked down at you with an honest curiosity. "How much longer can you go on pretending to hate me?"

You noted that what he was saying was true, letting the words sit in your chest for a moment, but you also noted that you had more fun being petty. You tilted your chin up at him. "Funny that you think I'm pretending."

James put a hand on the table you were sitting at, leaning forward slightly and making you freeze up. "Funny that you're still not a good liar, love."

Your throat felt tight with something you wanted to again dismiss as disgust at both his proximity and the delicate word that fell from his lips. You let an unpleasant pinch form between your brows. "I thought I told you not to call me that."

James felt something warm, almost giddy, form in his chest, and it didn't matter that you looked like you were considering slapping him right then. He let the corner of his lips quirk up. "You're adorable when you're mad."

"Don't call me that either." You huffed, picking up your still un-memorized script and standing. "I'm going to my trailer."

James quirked a brow, following you with only his eyes. "Is that an invitation?"

You rolled your eyes, walking away and calling over your shoulder. "Absolutely not."

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You pried away the hair that had flocked in front of your eyes thanks to the relentless breeze. Just as you'd suspected, you definitely did not look like the perfect, effortlessly pretty girl you were sure Sebastian was accustomed to seeing on a date.

His smile dropped, the inner workings of his brows pulling concernedly. "Hey, are you okay?" He moved closer until he had a hand gently holding one of your shoulders, eyes scanning over your face.

You nodded, gaze cast downwards busily. You lifted a hand over your cheek, alarmed as it came back damp and shining. You must've started to cry for real sometime between when your best friend confessed his supposed feelings for you and when you walked to your date with another guy—you felt faint.

"Yeah," you told him, though your voice cracked halfway. "Just had a rough morning, is all."

Sebastian looked over you for a few seconds, maybe bargaining whether he could still get out of this date before it even truly began. "Are you sure you're up for our date? If you want me to take you back to the castle, we can always reschedule-"

"No." You forced your lips to smile at him, your nose to take a breath in. "I'm better now." You tipped your head to the door behind him. "Let's head inside."

He relented, maybe not by choice because you'd already begun walking towards the entrance to the shop, but he did all the same. He managed to hold the door open for you, to which you nodded gratefully and walked into Madam Puddifoot's with as much dignity as you could muster.

The tea shop was decked out with romantic and frilly pink decorations on every wall, fine china and complicatedly patterned cloths on every table. Sebastian guided you to one of them, pulling out your chair for you without a second thought. You sat down, finally feeling a bit more stable, though that feeling was lost as soon as you moved to take off your coat.

Your fingers paused, even if only for the thinnest of seconds, on the fabric draped over your shoulders. You lowered your head—you were still wearing James's jacket. The warm scent enveloped you every time you breathed, so you didn't. At least, not until you lifted the jacket from off your shoulders and onto the back of your chair. Its presence was still a dizzying reminder of all that'd been said just a few minutes ago, something you had to fight not to react to as Sebastian took a seat across from you.

A heavy ten seconds passed until a dark-haired woman who you assumed was Madam Puddifoot herself came over to your table. She wore a smile and an apron with frills that matched the decorations. "What can I get for the lovely couple?"

You felt so unlike yourself that you didn't even flush at her use of the word 'couple.' Sebastian gestured for you to order first. Your mind was strangely blank as you voiced, "Just a ginger tea, please."

Madam Puddifoot gave you a strange and assessing look after you spoke, the shadow of a motherly, concerned frown disturbing her features. "My dear, are you alright?"

If one more person asked you that you thought you were going to cry again. You looked up at the woman and nodded, a polite smile gracing your lips. "I'm alright, thank you." Changing the topic as Madam Puddifoot continued to stare at you, you looked over at the boy across from you. "What would you like, Sebastian?"

"I'll just take a black tea, thanks." He smiled handsomely up at Madam Puddifoot, and that seemed to satisfy her.

She nodded and clapped her hands together. "One Ginger and one Black!" she yelled to no one in particular, until suddenly two fragile-looking cups of tea came swarming towards your table, seemingly appearing from nowhere, and set themselves down in front of you both. The witch clapped her hands again and a plate of biscuits appeared before you to accompany your tea.

She smiled, satisfied. "Anything else I can get you, dears?"

Sebastian looked at you as you shrugged, so he shook his head no at the woman, who nodded before moving to greet another pair of students who'd appeared at the door.

"So," Sebastian began, picking up his tea but not drinking it. "You said you had a rough morning?"

You looked down at the cup in front of you. "I'd rather not talk about it, if that's alright."

Sebastian pinched his brows. "Right, I'm sorry."

You shook your head. "Don't be." Then you picked up your own tea, taking a sip of its gingery contents that only soothed your mind a little bit. "How was your own morning?"

"It was alright. Took the carriage ride in with my mate and his date." He laughed to himself. "Can't help but think I was a bit of a third wheel, really."

"Right, I'm so sorry about that." You set down your tea. "My friend ... my friends wanted me to spend some time with them for the first Hogsmeade trip of the year." You felt sick just saying it, the sentence cloaked in your poorly hidden disguise as you fought your expression from changing.

"No worries. I get it." Sebastian plucked a biscuit off the porcelain plate between you. "That reminds me of my first time going to Hogsmeade in the third year, actually."

He began relaying a story to you about him and his friend, something about a permission slip not being signed, but you couldn't help but become distracted. Distracted by whatever mess was going on up in your brain.

"Do you know how hard it is to get anything done when all I can think about is my best friend kissing me?"

The dizzying words whipped around in your head like a sail in violent winds, and you tried your hardest to lower the mast. You looked at the daintily beautiful setup before you, aged tablecloth and intricate silverware, biscuits and jam placed effortlessly in the middle of it all. The whole scene seemed to mock you, really. The perfect setup for a date and yet your mind couldn't even seem to recognize that you were on one.

You somehow managed to refocus on what Sebastian was saying, him luckily having not noticed your wandering mind, and willed yourself to laugh and smile when appropriate. It wasn't his fault; his story was funny, or at least you thought it should've been on any other occasion.

"I've heard Vance tell about a million jokes to you and, trust me, you couldn't get a five-year-old to laugh at any one of them."

As those words rang through your head, you truly became angry. Angry at James for even having said them, but more so angry at yourself for even thinking of them during a time like this.

"And ever since then, his parents have had to send his permission slip directly to Dumbledore by owl." Sebastian finished his story with a nostalgic glint in his eye, and you hummed a laugh that you hoped sounded genuine enough. God, you were just awful.

For the rest of the date, time seemed to pass by slower and slower until you'd lost track of how many times you had to muster up a smile or calculate a laugh as your brain worked against you. But your method seemed like it was working well enough, and Sebastian seemed unbothered by your slight passiveness. It made you wonder how well you really knew each other.

The stuffiness of the shop was swelling and threatening the steady rhythm you'd made. Maybe you'd cooled off on the outside, but inside it felt like your mind was overheating and melting the rest of you until it made it difficult to breathe normally without focusing on that alone.

Maybe thirty minutes had gone by, or an hour, but it became a lot harder to focus on doing that when you watched as Sebastian went quiet and placed a soft hand on yours atop the table. You looked down at his fingers that encapsulated yours, a romantic gesture, surely, and then back at him. This time though, he had inched closer from across the round table and his gaze had gone soft and your heart had dropped in your chest because this was exactly what you thought would happen—Did he want to kiss you?

You panicked, you didn't know why, but you did. You pulled your hand from his swiftly and, in the blink of an eye, a crash and a painful clang rang out and suddenly there were shards of white porcelain all over the floor next to you.

You'd knocked over a teacup. Of course you had.

You panicked even more. "Oh my God," you cursed. "Crap."

You knelt down and began picking up the scattered pieces, but there were so many and your head was still spinning from earlier and you were thinking about someone else when Sebastian had tried to kiss you and suddenly your vision was blurring over.

Sebastian quickly got up from his seat and joined you in your effort to pick up the broken fragments of your cup. When they were all picked up and you placed them back down on the table, a mess next to the prettily stacked biscuits and jam, he frowned when he saw your distraught expression and teary eyes.

"Hey, are you hurt?" he questioned hurriedly. "Did you get cut?"

You shook your head. "No, I didn't." Your voice broke, and suddenly you really were crying again, surely causing a scene in the tea shop.

"Hey, it's okay," cooed Sebastian, some confusion lining his voice. "It's only a teacup. I'm sure Madam Puddifoot has hundreds of others."

You shook your head pathetically. "No, it's ... it's not that."

He regarded you for a moment. "Is it because I tried to kiss you?"

You didn't respond, maybe from embarrassment, or shame, or because of the effort of trying to stop yourself from crying, but Sebastian sighed.

"It is, isn't it?" He shook his head in his hand, elbow on the table. "I shouldn't have tried to kiss you. It's too early, and you're clearly upset-"

"It's alright, Sebastian." You wiped at your cheeks. "We're on a date in Madam Puddifoot's. That's what people do when they come here. This is all my fault really. This whole mess, it's my fault."

"It was only an accident," Sebastian reasoned, and at your shattered expression, he stopped himself. "Not about the teacup. Right."

You sat there in silence for a beat, peering at the physical mess you'd made as well.

"If you don't mind me asking," Sebastian began, "is this all about what happened this morning?"

Your heart stung in your chest for a moment at the thought of it. "Yeah... it is." You looked away, gathering yourself. "Just a thing with a friend. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize," he told you, for what seemed like the thousandth time since you'd met him. He went silent for a second too, head tipped down before lifting it back up. He seemed to look at you then like he was seeing right through you. "The friend is Potter, isn't it?"

Your eyes snapped to him as your stomach churned and a wave of guilt washed over you. "How-" you gaped. "How did you know?"

"I just had a feeling." He shrugged. "Plus, you came in wearing his jacket, so I just figured."

Your lips parted and you spared a glance over at the worn brown coat draped over the back of your seat. The guilt seemed to drown you now, and all you wanted to do was hide in your dorm.

"Look," Sebastian began, and he looked surprisingly not angry. "I don't know what happened with Potter, but whatever it is, you should probably be with him right now. Not with me."

A premonition churned in your gut at his words. "I don't know if that's the best idea right now, if I'm being honest."

"Like I said, I don't know what's happened. But," he looked down at the shards of porcelain on the table between you, "you don't just go breaking tea cups over anyone."

You laughed then, or maybe it was a half-sob, but it wasn't calculated and it would've felt good, had the weight in your chest not been still weighing down on you.

"And," he continued. "He ... Potter ... the way he is around you ... you're obviously not just 'anyone' to him either."

At his words and the genuinely considerate look in his eyes, you felt aggravated at yourself. Here you were, sitting in a tea shop with the kind of guy any girl would dream of getting to have a first date with, and you'd ruined it.

"Thanks, Sebastian," you said, "but I can't ask you to talk about this with me. It's not fair to you." You stood up from your seat on shaky legs and took James's jacket in your hands. You didn't think you had it in you to put it on again, no matter how chilly it'd gotten outside. "And I hope you don't hate me for ruining this date."

Sebastian shook his head. "I don't. Trust me."

You smiled at him, though you were sure you still looked insane from all the crying you'd done. "Don't worry about walking me all the way back, I'll be alright. And I think I'd prefer to be alone right now anyway."

"Right." Sebastian tilted his head at you. "Is at least to the door alright?"

You gave in, because he was still so charming, and he placed a stack of coins on the table. You were sure there was some extra money there as well for the teacup you'd broken, and you couldn't even argue with him because you didn't know if you had it in you after the morning you'd had.

He opened the door and you both left, standing idly outside the shop, the wind still energetic and unforgiving.

"For what it's worth," Sebastian began before you could bid him goodbye. "I don't think anyone could ever hate you. Especially not Potter."

You swallowed, grateful for his words and also hating the way they settled in your throat. Before you could say anything more, he tipped his head at you in goodbye and walked off. Then you did too, though you really didn't have a plan of what you would do next.

Your body seemed to drag itself all the way back to Hogwarts. The walk was probably no more than ten or so minutes but it felt eternal as you'd spent every second of it trying to escape the acid rainstorm of your mind's muddied thoughts. That, along with trying not to cry for the third time that day.

Your footsteps pattered slowly into the empty common room and up the stairs to your equally empty dorm, and you remembered with a sigh that nearly everyone was still enjoying their day at Hogsmeade. It was a blessing and a curse, giving you some solitude but also meaning you wouldn't see your friends for hours.

You'd spent the rest of the day in bed, doing some homework from time to time but mainly just letting your mind wander wherever it wanted to because you didn't have the energy to stop it—that meant you spent an aggravatingly long amount of time thinking about James.

You were angry at him, so angry, because he had all this time to tell you how he was feeling and didn't; not until you were about to go on a date with another boy, one that was ruined anyway.

But you were also frightened because you didn't know how you were supposed to come back from this. Your hands shook and your mind whirled as you realized that you'd have to speak to James again eventually—he was your best friend. But the more you thought about it, you didn't even know if that could still be the case after everything that'd happened.

What if he hated you now? What if you'd ruined everything with him, just like you'd spent all those nights fearing you would, and you'd lost him for good? If there were answers to your questions, you weren't sure you wanted to hear them just yet.

Soon enough the door to your dorm rattled, the hours slipping past you in your state of worry, and Lily and Marlene appeared in the doorway. They still had the ghosts of laughter on their faces that paused at their noticing you.

"Hey you," Marlene sang, an expectant grin tugging at her lips. "So? How did it go?" When she entered the room far enough to notice you on your bed, still in your dress from earlier with your makeup surely ruined, she stilled. "Oh no." She put her bag down on the ground next to her.

Lily turned towards you both curiously. "What happened?"

You ran both of your hands over your face, grimacing as some of the mascara that'd run down your cheeks revealed itself on your fingers. " 'What didn't happen' is a better question, I suppose."

The two girls came to sit with you on your bed and, for the first time that day, you verbally went through all that had happened since you left their side that morning, including your mess of a date and all that James had said to you right before it. It took more effort than you would've liked just to keep your voice steady, but that didn't stop them both from giving you achingly sympathetic looks the whole time you spoke, mixed with both fury and shock. When you finished, you felt like you were out of breath. A silence vibrated through the air before either of them spoke.

"Are you okay?" Lily asked, and that question broke you just like you swore it would when it was asked to you earlier. You looked down at the dress you still wore, trying to fight off the emotion trying to claw its way up your throat, and Lily took you in her arms before it could. Marlene joined in then too and you let yourself be held by them as you felt like breaking.

They didn't rush or make any effort to pull away until you did, though you did after a moment, knowing there was more to talk about that they were too nice to pry over.

"We don't have to talk about it anymore if you don't want to." Marlene tipped her head at you concernedly.

You shook your head. "No, I'm alright now. I think." You shrugged. "And maybe talking about it will help."

The blonde nodded slowly. "So, what exactly did Potter say to you?"

You blinked slowly, finding it all too easy to recall the conversation. "He said that he hasn't been able to stop thinking about the kiss since it happened. And that it ... meant something to him."

Lily looked at you pensively. "And did you tell him about your feelings for him too?"

"I-" you went still, blinking at the redhead, who stared back at you with the slightest shadow of a smile toying at her lips. A mixture of both guilt and embarrassment clawed in your chest as you fought for words. "You knew?"

She tipped her head at you, the forgiving look she gave you speaking volumes, and you internally thanked Merlin for blessing you with the best friends in the bloody world.

"Of course I knew," she chided. "Anyone with a pair of eyes can see that you both are in love with each other." At her choice of words something fluttered in your stomach uncomfortably.

"I wouldn't say love is the right word for whatever he says he feels for me," you responded. Lily and Marlene shared a loaded look from either side of you as you spoke dismissively. "Clearly it's not the same as how he feels about you, Lily."

"Yeah," she said, meaning a thousand dizzying things. "It's not."

She looked at you meaningfully then, and you found it hard to not wilt under her gaze. You shifted your eyes to somewhere else and felt even worse as they landed on the brown jacket that sat on the end of your bed. Like she noticed your thoughts right away, Marlene stood up and picked up the coat.

"I'm going to go get rid of this." When you lifted a weak brow at her she added, "I mean, return it to him."

Lily shook her head from next to you and you both watched your friend leave the dorm room. She gestured with her head for you to follow her as she got up and went into the bathroom. You did, scaring yourself as you got a glimpse of your appearance in the mirror. Your eyes were still tinted pink and your makeup was a mess.

Lily had you sit atop the toilet as she wet a towel and began wiping away at your cheeks. The fabric was warm on your skin, her touch light and gentle.

"So, what are you gonna do?" she asked the question as she stepped away to re-wet the cloth and you shrugged, already knowing what she was referring to.

"I don't know." You focused on the feeling of the towel on your face. "At this point, I think I'm just not meant for all this dating stuff. I mean, first with the rumors, and then with that girl harassing me about Sebastian in the library. I practically cried when he tried to kiss me, for Merlin's sake."

Lily paused her actions, skin going taught around her brows. "He tried to kiss you? When you were clearly upset?"

You looked down at your lap. "I was hiding my emotions the whole time, laughing at all his jokes. Maybe I felt bad for ruining the date, I don't know. All he did was lean slightly forward and I freaked out. If I'd been feeling better, I ... I would've wanted to. Kiss him, I mean. He was incredibly sweet the entire time, even after I cried and broke that tea cup. But all I could think about was bloody James the entire time."

"Well of course you were thinking about him." Lily stood back up fully and ran the towel she'd used underneath the sink. "He just dumped all this emotional stuff on you after hardly speaking to you all week. Of course you're going to be thinking about it."

You stared at her back. "So you don't think it means anything else?"

"Well," she turned back around and leaned against the sink. "Would you have been thinking about him even if he hadn't confessed to you this morning?"

Your mouth feathered open and then shut itself closed at her question, and you kept your gaze low. You could feel the answer your heart already knew fighting to make its way past your lips.

Before time forced an answer from you, the sound of Marlene's footsteps made their way into the bathroom as she re-entered your dorm. It took her a second to find the two of you before she was sticking her head in the bathroom.

"Lupin and Black are downstairs asking to see you." Your eyes subtly widened at her words automatically. "Don't worry, I'll tell them to fuck off."

"No," you stopped her. "I should talk to them." You felt peeved that the idea of seeing them made you so nervous; that was exactly what you didn't want to happen if things went wrong with James. "They aren't the reason for all this. They're still my friends." You stood up. "And maybe they're not even gonna ask about James."

As soon as you went down the stairs to the common room with Marlene and Lily in tow, your hopes were easily shattered. The two boys sat at the couch in front of the now crackling fireplace that filled the room with warm light and turned towards you with foreboding expressions.

"What the hell happened between you and James?"

You would've been mad at Sirius's frankness, but you were at least grateful they both weren't looking at you with painful sympathy like everyone else that day had. You could always count on them for that.

"Hello to you too."

The completely sober looks on their faces were something you weren't used to seeing, making you slow your steps as you sat down on one of the seats next to them. Marlene and Lily stood on either side of you like security guards.

"Seriously," Sirius insisted. "James has never been like this before. We don't even know where he is right now."

"He's probably out on the Quidditch pitch." Your voice came as a surprise to you as the words left your lips, small but steadily confident. You ignored the way they looked at you. "I thought James would have told you all what happened by now."

"He did," said Remus, and you felt your heart picking up in your chest. "But that doesn't mean we're not confused about it."

You stared hardly back at them both. "I'm just as confused about it as you guys are, alright?"

"Well, maybe you should go and talk to him," Sirius insisted. "He's pretty upset."

"And?" Marlene scoffed from behind you. "Are you saying that it's her fault?"

Sirius glared at the girl behind you. "All we're saying is that James disappeared after we got off the carriage, and the next time we saw him he looked like he'd been crying. Crying for Merlin's sake."

A feeling unidentifiable knawed at you—something like surprise, something like guilt—and you looked down at your lap, hating yourself but also hating the situation more.

Marlene only groaned. "Oh come on. You really think it's fair to be trying to make her feel bad for poor Potter after all that's happened?"

You looked with trepidation at the faces of your two friends on the couch and then turned to look at her. "Marlene..." you coaxed, but she just took a step forward to stand next to you.

"No, I mean it." She pointed a finger at Sirius and Remus. "You lot have some nerve wailing about Potter's bloody feelings to her. You weren't the ones who had to comfort her every time she came back heartbroken, practically in tears, over Potter's sheer blindness at the amazing girl right in front of him. And you definitely weren't the ones fighting off feral girls who decided to harass her in the library over the bloody rumors everyone is spreading. But you didn't even know about that, did you?"

You felt heat rushing to your face the more she spoke, but you didn't think she was anywhere near finished. In all the chaos from the last day, you hadn't told them anything about the library incident. You also hadn't ever truly discussed your feelings for James with them, but that was more your own fault than theirs, you supposed. You looked over at your friends' faces again and they were peering at you quizzically. You felt too much like hiding.

"So what if Potter's upset?" Marlene continued, voice truly raising now. "He has no right to be. Not after he went and ruined her date with Vance all because the boy has bloody awful timing. It's right selfish if you ask me. She deserves better."

When she finished, you'd all gone quiet, but not for any reason you would've hoped. You looked up with dread and found the face of the boy that'd been replaying endlessly in your mind the entire morning. You felt your breathing shallow in your chest at the sight of him.

James was standing there near the door of the common room, brown hair wet from the shower he'd probably taken after going out on the Quidditch pitch—just as you'd predicted he would—and his chest rose and fell beneath a fresh white T-shirt. Despite that, he didn't look like he'd been doing much better than you, and you could see the weight behind his eyes even from where you sat.

He'd heard Marlene's words, no doubt, but the question was how much he'd heard. You prayed with all your might that he hadn't been witness to her words about you crying over him in your dorm. Your cheeks were heating and you wanted to curse Marlene but couldn't, firstly because you loved her to pieces and secondly because you couldn't help but think over her words and find that she wasn't completely wrong. But that didn't mean staring at James right then was any easier.

He scanned over a now silent Marlene from beside you, probably Lily as well, and then you. An ocean of thoughts and painful images of words shared through raised voices rippled unforgiving through your head. His expression revealed little to nothing, but you knew he was thinking about the same things you were.

The air was thick with words unsaid, or maybe with the words that were said, you couldn't be sure, but you found it hard to breathe. Your lips parted, but you said nothing. He didn't either, his jaw ticking before he broke his painful gaze away from you and stalked off up the stairs and to his dorm, out of sight.

You felt like you could breathe again, albeit with some strain, but the atmosphere didn't become any less tense.

"Look," Sirius began, and you didn't know how much more conversation you could take. "We-, and don't blow up at us again McKinnon," he gave her a pointed but nervous look. "Me and Remus haven't been there for everything—you're right. But we've also seen things from James's side. He's more confused than he's probably been about anything in his life, and it's not for just any reason. He's scared." He looked pointedly at you, and you'd never seen him so serious. "And we know you are too. I get that. But if this is how things are going to be from now on, we can't just sit here and let it happen."

"What do you want me to do?" You almost begged as your exasperation began to bleed through to your voice. "Just march up there and tell him I'm ready to be with him?" The way they were staring back at you made you think they were about to tell you 'yes.' You let a stressed breath out, shaking your head. "It's not that easy. I wish it was, but it's not, alright?"

When they said nothing back, you continued. "I've been hurting over these ... feelings ... for years. He doesn't just get to realize he liked it when we kissed a week ago and have me. It can't work like that."

A dull silence rippled through the room before anyone said anything more.

Remus sighed and looked straight at you, his eyes achingly genuine. "At the end of the day, you and James are still best friends. You've been attached at the hip since you were kids. See how long you last trying to avoid each other."

You swallowed and your stomach almost seemed to hurt at the sound of Remus's words. You didn't know what to say back to him, but you didn't need to, because soon the portrait door was opening again and Peter strolled in, looking like he was walking atop clouds.

"Hey you guys," he greeted, a smile gracing his face with his hands in his pockets. "My date went spectacularly. We even went to- is something wrong?" Peter studied each of your expressions and you felt horrible at the fact that you'd forgotten all about him and his date. He frowned over at you. "What did I miss?"

You sighed. You didn't even know how to begin to answer that question.

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