attached | james potter

twenty-eight: all i want for christmas

-fourth year-

Brooklyn took another swig of her Butterbeer, but the warm, fuzzy feeling spreading through her body did nothing to make her feel any better. She'd already had two mugs, and yet she still couldn't bring herself to head back to the castle. She was more than aware that her eyes were still red-rimmed and her cheeks still flushed. She knew her friends would have questions if they saw her in such a state, and she really couldn't be bothered to come up with excuses.

"Alright there, Jones?"

Brooklyn closed her eyes at the sound of the familiar voice behind her, clenching her jaw. Just her luck. Of all the people to be in the Three Broomsticks that day, it just had to be him.

She didn't turn to face him, partly because she didn't want to see that stupid smirk of his, but also because she knew he'd take one look at her face and figure out that something was wrong. She resented the fact that he could read her so well, like an open book. It was infuriating.

"Just fine, Potter." She replied curtly, her back still facing him. She hoped that by some miracle, he'd go away, but seeing as this was James Potter she was referring to, obviously that wasn't going to happen.

"You sure?" Was it her imagination, or did he actually sound concerned?

"I'm sure."

"Really sure?" He persisted.

"Positive."

"You don't sound positive." He reached out and placed a finger under her chin, lifting her face up towards him. She pulled away, turning her face, but it was too late.

He frowned. "Doesn't look like it to me. Have you been crying?"

"Does it matter?" she mumbled exasperatedly. She was being crabby, but she just wasn't in the mood for his endless teasing. "I just want to be left alone for a while."

He regarded her soundlessly for a moment. "C'mon Jones. What kind of person would I be if I just left you here all by yourself?"

When she didn't answer, he decided to sit down in the seat next to her. He was quiet for a moment before speaking up.

"I saw Davies just now."

She glanced up sharply at him. "So, you came to laugh at me? Does it amuse you that my boyfriend was literally sucking another girls' face off?"

James' frown deepened as he stared at her. "Look, I— I didn't come to mock you."

She sighed. "Then what? Here to say 'I told you so'?"

"I— I just came to see if you were alright," he mumbled as he fidgeted uncomfortably. He paused for a moment before speaking again in a low voice. "He's a jerk."

"I've already figured that out for myself, thanks," she said stiffly. Her eyes softened for a fraction of a moment as she realised she was being a bitch. "Sorry, I didn't mean to take it out on you.. I'm— I'm just upset. I just want to be alone now."

James hesitated before nodding and standing up. Before he left, he stopped, turning back to look at her with an indecipherable expression on his face. "Just so you know... You're way too good for him."

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Brooklyn was screwed. Utterly and completely screwed.

She flopped back down on the bed, sighing as she grabbed a pillow and buried her face into it. She wanted to scream. What was wrong with her?