LONG STORY SHORT, james potter

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐱.

"Sounds perfect." Betty smiled as she swallowed a large mouthful. "Can't wait, really."

The conversation moved on quickly as Cece jabbed at Aisling once more for her turn to Irish slang and then erupted into a heated debate about which regions had the best slang and whether or not the person you were shagging could change that. Students started to trickle out and go back to their dorms to study or spend time with friends. Betty bid her friends farewell and slung her bag over her shoulder when her fatal mistake hit her. She had asked James Potter to become her rounds partner. She started to wring her hands as she walked slowly towards the front of the school where round partners met to start. As she approached, she heard two hushed voices near the front, so she tried to make her footsteps as light as possible as she approached the shadows and slipped into them—hidden in the blind spots of the flickering candle light.

"You can just say I'm sick or something," the first voice whispered harshly.

"Of course, James. Anything and if you ever need me to—" the second voice sounded, but it wasn't making such an effort to be quiet, making the first voice, who she now figured was James, hiss at it.

She furrowed her eyebrows and stepped forward, out of the shadows. "You've got to be joking."

James scrunched his face and groaned. "It's not what it looks like."

"Then what is it?" She raised an eyebrow before turning to the younger boy, obviously the new fifth year Gryffindor prefect. "What does it look like."

"Well—"

"I wasn't talking to you," she shot at James, making him huff and clamp his mouth shut.

"Well . . ." The boy trailed off as he felt the gazes of both Betty and James on him. He gulped. "I—uh . . ."

"James can I speak with you for a minute?" She folded her arms over her chest and nodded to the side.

"We're already speaking, Betty."

"Privately."

James rolled his eyes and shoved forward, walking past Betty and stopping just behind the shadows.

"What?" His voice was venomous.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she jeered as she stepped towards him. "Just because we have . . . made a mistake . . . doesn't mean that you get to shirk your responsibilities."

"As Head Boy, it is my responsibility to get to know all of my prefects, so I've made the decision to switch rounds."

"Oh please," she scoffed, "if you'd done that, I would've gotten the official notice—"

"And besides, I have better things to do—"

"Oh? Better than the official responsibility that has been bestowed upon you by the headmaster? I don't think so—"

"Yeah, actually, because it might shock you, but some of us have a social life and like to have fun."

"It's a Thursday, James, there are no parties except for the pity party that you probably throw nightly in your dorm."

James laughed darkly. "Whoever said I throw those pity parties by myself? There are plenty of birds who love to come." Betty Lupin stopped breathing as she felt her body completely still. Her jaw clenched as she stared at him. His eyes were sinister and his lips were curled into a twisted smile. He opened his mouth carefully, as if to say something, but he only closed it, trailed his eyes along her edges and ends before scoffing and turning to walk away.

Betty's fingers shook as the rage within threatened to tear her up from within. It threatened to tear down the wallpaper, douse the whole of her in lighter fluid and send her aflame. But as she silently blazed, igniting her lungs and her heart, making her blood burn as it pumped all around her, a sudden wash of nothingness fell over her. A small trickle from a loose pipe of grief suddenly dripped down her cavernous insides as she watched his retreating figure. She forced in a shaky breath, turned and plastered on a smile when she saw the shaking fourth year.