𝗽𝗶𝘅𝗶𝗲 𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗹𝗼𝘄, james potter

03. TRANSFIGURATION

"You have got to be kidding me." She let out a breath, a sigh more than anything, a hand to her brow as James Potter smiled back at her.

"Well, hello to you too." He frowned. It was hardly a welcoming reception, the pronounced frown upon her face certainly let him know that. "Not very happy to see me, are you?"

"You could say that." Silence beat once, twice between them. Matilda cleared her throat. "Potter... James. You should know that whilst I might seem as though you can approach me in the corridor for a conversation, I am serious about my studies, and it's not something that I'm willing to give up because you decide to be a prat."

"Hey - hey, now that's a bit presumptuous, isn't it?" James sat back in his seat, met her eyes as she sat forward, looking back at him.

"Shouldn't I be? The reason why I sat here is so I wouldn't be able to hear you messing about."

"Messing about? Me? Never." He grinned as her gaze soured. "Fine, perhaps you're right. In the past, me and Padfoot have not been known as model students these past years... but I thought about it this summer and thought it's probably time to turn it around."

"Bit late for that, isn't it? Your seventh year?"

"I'm actually doing pretty well, academically." James said. "I get top grades. Did it in all my O.W.L.s too... I'm just not that good in lessons. And I'm trying to be better." He hummed. Part of him, perhaps, was making it all up, or was really, truly, trying to do better at school. Part of him, another one, despite all the swearing and the back and forth, was actually truly enjoying it.

"Yes." She gritted her teeth, annoyance now more than evident. "I am well aware of that. You do feckin' nothing and manage to get good grade... the best grades, and the rest of us all have to suffer through the pain of endless studying and learning to achieve that."

"Then I won't accept merit for my good grades." He replied, pulled a hand through his hair, glancing back at Sirius for a fraction of a second. "That make you happy? I can always tutor-"

"For the love of the Mother Mary, if you finish that sentence I will not hesitate to poke your eyes out with my quill." Matilda all but groaned. "Now will you shut up? I need to focus on this lesson, because I'm obviously not going to learn a single thing this year with you here!"

"It's only a temporary measure, you'll be glad to know." James hummed. "Only until you forgive me. Like, actually forgive me. Then I'll go back to where I came from at the back of the class and you won't have to hear my wittering."

Her eyes narrowed in confusion, and she withheld the urge to swear; McGonagall had come through the door in a sweep of her emerald robes, already addressing her class, warning them of the expectations of that year.

"I did actually forgive you." She hissed, trying to pay attention to the women. "About forty minutes ago, or did you stumble over your ego and bang your head?"

"Yes, several times in fact." He told her, holding back laughter. "Don't worry about it, you'll find out in no less than an hour just how good of a-"

"Potter." The Scottish accent, that familiar sharp disappointment, and James looked up. "Stop distracting Miss Moody, and listen."

"Yes, Ma'am." He saluted.

She sighed, and eyed the mess of textbooks stacked on the edge of the desk. "Before I continue with particularly important information that will allow you to structure your year and studies accordingly, and I trust you have already discussed your aims for this year with your respective head of house, would you please all get out the homework set over the summer so I can collect it in."

James sighed, pulled the books closer to him, leafed through the mess. Beside him, Matilda extracted the sheet - no wrinkles nor tears in sight - and set it on the table. He sat back, resigned.

"Fuck's sake." He murmured, and stuck his hand in the air.

✧

"Shit, shit, shit." He ignored the glare of the new fifth year prefect as he stumbled through the portrait hole, ignoring the first years who didn't yet have a designated spot to meet in their little groups and crowd the corridors like they'd never heard of sitting down before. He had not intended to spend his break back in the common room, but he had to find the right Transfiguration homework - all of it - and get it to McGonagall before the twenty minutes were over and get to his lesson, which, because of course it was, was half the castle away from her office..

And it was far to say he was not best pleased.

However, whilst that matter certainly caused some anger on his behalf, he couldn't quite fault the rest of the lesson. Because, despite Matilda trying ever so hard to concentrate on the work set, she couldn't quite help herself when it came to thinking up clever little comebacks in reply to his - often, rather idiotic - questions and vague statements about what he was doing sat next to her.

Certainly, he could admit openly that she was pretty, and the ginger hair was not just the only factor of that he took into account, but despite her alleged annoyance he truly enjoyed the back and forth that came with it. He didn't want to get too involved, too obsessed too fast, because he knew it never would end well... but she had made the first lesson of the year - the first lesson that was with McGonagall, bless her tartan slippers, no less - fun. Merlin, the fact he was even considering this was far too much, but he missed the swell of excitement.

The swell of excitement that he had felt in each conversation with a certain Matilda Moody. But no. He couldn't - it was too much way too fast - so fast his head was spinning... but then again, he wasn't exactly known for stopping and thinking and besides, if he enjoyed it then he saw no reason to stop and think, or to stop at all. And besides, Lily had rejected him and he was left swinging in the limbo between nothing at all and something exciting. Someone a little different, a lot different, and, well he knew he shouldn't compare, but she was nowhere near as nice as Lily was about it.

If he told Sirius about this, he would either tell him he was insane or tell him he was lucky; that a girl like Matilda was certain to fill his life with interest. Merlin, he sounded like a sleazebag, but there was no other way about it. It did... it excited him, not in a way he was familiar with and Christ, he needed to stop thinking about it because this was a joke at this point.

He pushed open the door to the dorm. Transfiguration homework.

He had done it. He knew he had done it because he wanted all of his homework out of the way before summer even began. Had half of it finished by the time the Hogwarts Express got back into London. Homework was easy. It had been done.

But... he couldn't remember where he had put it.

Most likely, it was shoved between the pages of another textbook, his one from last year and he had left it at home. Then he would have to convince McGonagall to give him another week. Which would be tough - any other teacher, Slughorn or... or Kettleburn and they would be happy. But not McGonagall.

He had to find the stupid thing before he actually fucked his year up and got dragged down with detention until he handed it in.

It wasn't in his trunk, nor his bedside table, nor on his shelf next to the desk and James was actually starting to worry. But nonetheless, he kept looking, almost tearing the room apart. He really couldn't get a detention this early on.

And then he remembered, and he could never remember a time when he had been so grateful for Peter's apparent lack of ability to do his own homework. "Thank Godric." James murmured, reaching to the top of his chest of draws and pulling them back. "Fuck's sake, why's he mixed them all up for. Wanker."

He sat on his bed, leafing through the sheets of parchment and pulling them out one by one. Finally, he found the three he needed, and when he set them aside, his eyes landed on a certain sheet of parchment, and he was all too confused.

Suddenly, it seemed like he wasn't going to make it to McGonagall's office on time.

✧