A Broken Inheritance

Chapter 59: Dripping Half-Promises

He grinned up at the ceiling. "The Ministry. Hogwarts. My mum. Anyone who'll listen, really."

"Your sheets are warmer too," he declared into the mattress. "And they smell less like... seventeen-year-old boy."

Anastasia shut the door slowly, like if she did it too quickly the whole room might shatter. She turned to find him already wriggling to the centre of her bed like it was a nest, his socked feet kicking the blanket into submission. Her jaw tightened, unsure whether to laugh or scream. Her face didn't move, but her cheeks coloured slightly.

"You were gone a while."

"Miss me?" he asked, tossing an arm behind his head, the other resting lazily across his stomach.

Anastasia shut the door, slow and unsure. "No."

James grinned. "Liar."

She crossed her arms, awkward. "Did you... get the cigarettes?"

He blinked. Then, "Oh. Right. Sirius'. Nah."

"You said—"

"Yeah, well," he cut in, rolling onto his side to look at her, "I lied."

She stared. "Why?"

James looked at her finally, that stupid half-grin blooming on his mouth. "Didn't want you to think I was going off to cry about my feelings."

Anastasia hesitated, then drifted back toward her desk. She sat, perched carefully on the edge of the chair like her body still didn't know how to rest. The pendant was still clutched in her hand, but she set it on the table now, delicately.

James watched her fidget, saw the way her fingers twisted in her lap, the way her gaze flicked anywhere but him. He didn't bring it up. Didn't bring any of it up.

"You've got, like, an absurd number of books on magical ethics," he said, flipping over onto his stomach and propping himself up on his elbows. "Kind of ironic, considering."

She arched a brow. "Considering what?"

He grinned. "You. Obviously."

"You're an idiot," she muttered.

But there was no real heat in it. He could see it now—the faintest softening of her mouth, the way her shoulders began to lose their stiffness.

Progress.

James smirked to himself. Mission: Avoid All Feelings? Back on track.

"You should shower," she said after a moment.

James tilted his head. "I spelled the blood away."

"It's not the same."

"I smell great."

"Shower anyway."

He didn't move.

She fiddled with the vials on her desk, lined up on the edge. Pushed a few out of place. Lined them up again.

Behind her, James stretched, the mattress squeaking under his weight. "You've been pacing."

She stilled. "No I haven't."

"You left a little trail," he said, voice lighter than it should've been. "Could've followed it with breadcrumbs."

Anastasia bit the inside of her cheek. Turned toward him. "It took you a while."

He nodded. "Yeah," he cleared his throat nonchalantly, "But I came back."

Anastasia's hands dropped to her sides. She looked at him, eyes unreadable.