willow───james potter

09 | honey

EARLY WHISPERS OF December echoed in the air, painting the grounds of Hogwarts in delicate hues of frost and silver. Isla fell back on her bed, soft parchment brushing her fingers. She'd unfolded and refolded the paper so many times that the ink had started to fade into the creases.

'Do we have to bring a date?' she whined, looking up at Lily.

Her friend shrugged. 'It's not an obligation - I probably won't.' She turned to meet Isla's gaze, a flash of ginger hair spilling over her shoulders like a crimson flame. 'But if I would if I were you.'

A frown tugged at the corner of her mouth. 'Why?'

'I'd do it fast, too,' Lily continued. 'Before James tries to weasel his way back into your life again.'

Isla was so cold under the winter skyline, made entirely of frostbite and fragmented memories. She took a deep breath and said, 'James wouldn't want to go to a Slug Club Christmas party. He thinks it's boring.'

Lily laughed, sinking into the bed next to her. 'If you really think that, you're as dumb as he is. He'd go anywhere with you.'

She could feel her cheeks colour as she carefully avoided the emerald glimmer in Lily's eyes. 'Whatever. Let's go down and get breakfast.'

The sound of silver against ceramics warmed the Great Hall as they arrived at the Gryffindor table. Isla could feel her throat close over with frost as she dropped into the spare seat across from Peter. Her gaze, however, was drawn to the other side of the table, where James was deep in conversation with Gwenog Jones, one of Gryffindor's Beaters. Isla watched as hazel eyes raked over smooth dark skin.

She could feel something empty glisten within her ribcage, claws dragging on the left side and pressing roughly until her nerves stubbornly flickered back to life, disastrously uneven. Annoyance tremoured down her spine, twisted with the sting of betrayal.

But James wasn't hers anymore, if he ever was, and she wasn't any different than any other girl in this school. He didn't owe her anything. He didn't owe her a single glance.

And yet, a sound escaped through her mouth - a gasp, maybe, or a stutter - and James' gaze found her in a heartbeat. There was no way he heard it - not with a low rumble of noise throughout the hall - but she watched as his eyes widened faintly, lips barely parting, before he turned in her direction.

'Hey, Vix,' he murmured. 'What happened to being friends?'

Isla grabbed a piece of toast, desperately trying to make it look like she hadn't been staring. 'What?'

'Well, I don't think friends avoid each other for a week and a half.' His smile was charming, but Isla felt irritation flow to the palm of her hands. 'I haven't seen you since -'

'I've been busy,' she interrupted. Her gaze slid over to Gwenog, now in conversation with the girl next to her, trying to keep the accusatory stare out of her eyes. 'Looks like you have been, too.'

She watched as he took the bait; his shoulders straightened subconsciously, nose wrinkling just a bit at the tip. 'You know, Vix, I never would have pinned you as the jealous type,' he said.

'Not jealous,' she corrected, a bite seeping into her syllables. 'Just observing how quickly you're able to move on.'

James shrugged, the smooth line of his shoulders shifting with the ease of water. 'You're cute, Vix, really - but you have no idea what you're talking about.'

Irritation flared underneath her skin, reddening the tips of her cheekbones. She wasn't stupid - she could tell James was trying to make her jealous. But if she was certain about anything, it was that she would not back down without a fight.