𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗷𝗼𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗿𝗼𝗴𝗲𝗿, james potter

˗ˋ 22

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
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-: sixth year :-

── IN WHICH THEY PREPARE
TO CELEBRATE

. . .

She would never say it, but the image of James Potter slowly being painted in her mind was beginning to display him almost as the perfect renaissance man. He was good looking, there was no doubt about that, he was rich, the Quidditch captain and kind with just enough ability to flirt her into oblivion. And, as she found out from the carefully held Marauders' Map and a retelling of several pranks occured over the years, she was beginning to see him as particularly smart too.

And seemingly humble, because with every story he told her there was always comments of it being Remus, Sirius or Peter's idea to do something a certain way, accrediting them with the successes of their best pranks and times of fun. 

They had been sat cross-legged on the dusty, cold floor of the small nook they had hidden on for several hours, daring to venture out for only the briefest of moments before darting back when they glanced at the map and a particular Slytherin prefect was on patrol again, or a teacher was coming just a bit too close. But finally, as it neared a later hour, it was deemed safe to emerge and a cautious-looking Peter arrived to escort them back to the tower. 

And when they did - what a scene. 

The common room, a usual scene of warming red and gold, was covered in colourful banners celebrating the win, sketches of the most successful manouvers etched out on one or two. Somehow - and Rosie was desperate to know how - but there was a discoball hanging from the ceiling, and the lights were a flash of rainbow colours, dimmed for the full effect of dancing glitter.

This was what Rosie had expected of a celebration party in the Gryffindor common room she had been introduced to on Halloween - sure, then it had been a dash of spirit in name of the Halloween, but she could say for certain that this was far more fun. Long , twirling streamers of gold and red hung from the ceilings, held in place by magic and bouncing back into shape when she pulled on one or two. This was what she was more accustomed to - although she could say plenty of the parties she had been to in London lacked the magical elements for which she was now more than grateful.

Sirius had taken control of the music, and was already drunkenly singing along to a Queen song as it played from Godric-knew-where, stood atop of the plush red couch by the fire and smiling brightly when he saw James and Rosie appear through the tunnel into the room, following behind Peter.

"There they are! Our Quidditch Captain, ladies and gentlemen!" His wand was pointed at his throat as though it was a microphone but had really casted Sonorus over his throat and was projecting his voice across the entirety of the room. A cheer of celebration emerged from the crowd and James was confronted by hands from the crowd reaching to grab him. 

"I'll be right back." The aforementioned captain promised Rosie, but there was already a gleam of excitement and confidence in his eyes as he incited another cheer through what could only be negatively against Slytherin and how badly they played. She watched as Sirius hoisted him up onto the couch beside him, and incited another round of excited cheers. 

There was an atmosphere in the common room that she wasn't entirely stranger to; the team she had been on in London, while illicit and entirely secret to the rest of the world around them, had had much to celebrate of their time, and would party long into the night should they win one of their matches high above the city. But this seemed to be elevated, in comparison to the previous excitement Rosie had witnessed. The number of Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs alike who were all there to celebrate Slytherin's loss culminated in a party of pure happiness and honouring that win was something else. 

"Rosie - hey." Remus already seemed to be a couple drinks deep, almost tripping over the leg of the coffee table whilst clutching a cup and a cigarette, came to a stop by her. "Here, drink." He offered her his own cup, which she accepted and took a sip of. "Impressive." The boy nodded.

"I've drunk myself into oblivion many, many times." Rosie replied. "I used to- oh!" She was cut off, as a hand wrapped around her own and she was pulled up onto the sofa as well, abandoned Remus and his wonderfully-smelling cigarette. "Hey there." She beamed, watching the expression on his face light up even further. "Drink, Captain." 

He downed the rest of the cup, throwing it somewhere into the mass of bodies around them. "You know, Rosmerta," his eyes flickered with something, "I truly think you might be my lucky charm." 

"In that case, Potter," Rosie smiled, more of a smirk than anything, "I might have to attend the rest of your games for a year." 

And when he pulled her in for a kiss, atop of the faded, scarlet couch, Rosie didn't feel much like protesting.

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