Every Little Thing, James Potter.

07. Best Served Cold

"We have a task today, Gwendolyn."

"We actually have a task every day, James."

"This one is loads more important." Gwen wouldn't've cared—wouldn't've even listened, really, if James hadn't had that familiar twinkle in his eye that told her he was planning to cause some more mischief on the residents of Hogwarts. But he looked like he was in the midst of planning a prank, and Gwen knew she was better off on his end of things rather than ending up the prankee.

"Fine." Gwen shut her Potions journal and turned her full attention to her tablemate, resting her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand. She widened her eyes as if with interest. "Go on, O Wise One."

"I will, thank you," said James. He smiled. Then, it was back to business; he leaned in and lowered his voice so nobody else in the Potions classroom could hear him. "Alright, so—we've got an issue: Evans and Snape are streets ahead of us with their potion."

"That wouldn't be an issue if you'd let me work on ours."

"No, listen to me," he whinged, scrunching his brow. "I have a plan. If they get better marks than everyone—and, let's face it, they will—then the whole grading curve will be thrown off. We'll go from getting an Acceptable—if we're lucky—to a Troll, because of them. But—" James smiled, leaning in even further "—if something were to happen to their concoction, then Slughorn would have no choice but to give us all around the same marks."

"I'm in." Gwen needed no convincing. "As long as it helps us pass this bloody project, I'm in."

James grinned at her, nodding once. "Brilliant. Then all I need you to do is distract them while I do the dirty work."

She gave him a serious nod, then slid off her stool and moved over to Snape and Lily's table. It was true; their Wolfsbane potion was almost fully ready, and in only a few days they'd be getting the best marks of the whole class. Gwen hid her scowl.

"Looking good," she said, nodding, impressed. "If only James and I'd gotten Wolfsbane. What's the key ingredient in it, anyway—oh, bloody hell," she said, reaching out to Lily's open book and 'accidentally' knocking the entire jar of dried clovers to the ground. "Sorry about that."

"'S okay," said Lily, smiling. "Sev, would you help me—?"

They both leaned down to gather up the clovers and put them back in their rightful jar. Meanwhile, James discreetly slipped something from a small leather satchel into their potion, then returned back to his seat, unnoticed.

Gwen looked up, smiling, when Snape and Lily re-emerged from beneath the table. She nodded. "Sorry again. Well, better get back to mine, then!"

James gave her a subtle high-five right as the Wolfsbane exploded a nasty green pus right into Snape's face.

"I don't know." Gwen had said this at least seven times in one bloody conversation, and she was growing tired of having to repeat herself, but still could not wipe the smile from her lips. She shrugged again, feigning innocence. "It just.. happened."

     "Right." Jackie popped a grape into her mouth. "You just happened to start fancying James Potter."

     "Would you keep your voice down?" Walker chided, glaring at Jackie from across Gwen. It wasn't as though anyone could hear them; they'd been communicating in hushed voices, and the Great Hall at lunch wasn't exactly a hotspot for quietude. Nobody really paid much attention to the three Ravenclaws sitting side-by-side, anyway.

     "Thank you, Walker," Gwen said, then hit Jackie's shoulder. "If this gets out because of you, Jones, I'm offing you myself. Understood?"

     "Sorry!" Jackie put her hands up, eyes wide with faked harmlessness. "It's just—this is bloody mental. I mean, how many years have gone by that you've hated his guts?"