God is Dead | James Potter

3 | I DID SOMETHING BAD

Such luck was non-existent, in Lovina's eyes. Putting the word aside, it was all about the tone, and intention. He would never call her such a thing because he was annoyed, or affected in the slightest by her, he did it purely for her reaction, hers only.

"You should've started with saying you're friends with him," Lovina said, her gaze remaining decidedly on Elodie, "His friends get thoroughly special treatment."

"They do?" Said the doe-eyed girl.

"Ask Lily Evans."

"There's a table in front of Peter and me, Ellie." The quick interjection from Potter was something that quite pleased Lovina. "We'll be nice, I promise."

"Thank you, Jamsey!" Lovina outwardly cringed at the nickname, but lo and behold, the Elodie girl had skipped away to the tables by the back of the classroom, where Peter Pettigrew greeted her with an eager wave.

"Stay out of her way, Lovina." His sentence was calm, levelled, but its previous playfulness had dropped.

"Oh, no." In turn, hers was filled by mockery, as her eyes travelled from the place Elodie had stood in, to James, his figure towering over her sitting one. "I fancied making stew this evening. Flimsy little muggle-born stew, wouldn't you say so?"

"Stay out," He repeated, allowing silence to do its job, yet his eyebrows slowly furrowed, slowly, eternities seemed to merge with one another, as his expression shifted seamlessly from warning, to curious, "I didn't know you liked pink." A smirk was tugging at the ends of his lips as he brushed a strand of her hair back, starting at the roots, trailing down to the pink half.

Lovina yanked his wrist away in one abrupt move, "Fuck off, Potter."

He was properly wearing that shit-eating grin of his as he insufferably strutted away to his place, Pettigrew welcoming him back with uncontainable snickering.

"I don't know why you keep entertaining him." This voice, she did recognise at once, and her toes almost curled into her body. Evan Rosier. How he had managed to get into any NEWT level classes, let alone potions, was beyond the realm of Lovina's comprehension.

"What are you doing here?"

"Coming in for class, what does it look like?"

"You couldn't pass your OWL if your life depended on it."

"Well, start believing, Selwyn," Evan said, sending a sickening smile her way, proceeding to recklessly drop his books onto the table, legs swinging over the seat.

It felt like Lovina was going to dig a hole into her cheeks from how hard she was biting into them. If it were not that, her eyes would burn the hole into his head instead. "You are not sitting here."

"Are you still milking that?" As he understood what was going on, exasperation substituted Evan's former annoyance, "Won't you let that go already? It's been months, Salazar, learn to-"

"You are not sitting here."

"I am. What are you going to do, then? Are you going to leave the class, that's your plan?" At his challenge, Lovina stood up loudly, grabbing her two books, but instead of walking out the door, she went to the second to last table of the class, and without a second thought, sat on the opposite extreme of the bench that Elodie Berkowitz had occupied.

The room grew distinctly quiet, suddenly, the freezing temperature of the dungeons became obvious again. Even Sirius Black halted his conversation with Remus Lupin, just for a moment, to pick up James's jaw from the floor, because the next one, Slughorn was waltzing into the room, with Severus Snape close behind him.

"You're all quiet, what a lovely welcome!" The Professor happily exclaimed, looking around his class, "Ah, there you go, Mr. Snape, there's a spare seat next to Mr. Rosier." He pointed out, and the skinny Slytherin took the suggested place. "I hope you like your partners, because you'll be working with them for a good portion of the year. Unless, of course, special arrangements have to be put into place." He most definitely cast a glance at the infamous group of four Gryffindors.

"...hi?" Elodie's tone had sounded small, but Lovina could clearly hear her from her side of the long table.

She got no answer, though. Lovina did not even turn to her, for she looked ahead with her chin held high, with a twirl of her fingers directed to Evan Rosier, who appeared to be terribly, royally insulted. She could not think about the improper, taboo nature of her act, Merlin, it just felt too great.

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LUCY'S WORDS ˊˎ-

When I tell you I had fun writing this... it's not a lie.

This chapter also brings me to comment I have been thinking of the casting for Evan Rosier. I was considering Daniel Sharman, as he kind of fits my image of him. We shall see!

Hope you enjoyed this update! Thank you for the reads, votes, etc... I greatly appreciate it! Additionally, happy belated birthday, James Potter, you absolute king.