This Time, Last Time (A Harry Potter Universe Fanfiction)

3.

You found love but you, left without it

And now you don't want, to talk about it

-"The Long Road," Passenger

---

June 2018

When James arrived at Raigan's house after his first day at work for the summer, he found Piper lying in the front yard, knees up and her arms crossed over her eyes. "Hey Pipe," he said. She peeked out from under her arm.

"Hi," she said, and she covered her face again. "Mum's in the kitchen."

"Thanks," he said. "Whatcha doin'? And where are your pants?"

She was wearing a pair of shorts that, in his opinion, did not consist of nearly enough fabric.

"Ha ha ha," she said drily. "I'm tanning."

"Ah," said James. He didn't ask any further questions. Piper had been increasingly interested in her appearance recently and he considered it a topic well outside his realm of capability. "Well good luck with that."

She stuck her tongue out at him and he laughed and headed up the front walk and into the house. "Hey Rai," he called, kicking off his shoes on the rug. Just across from the door was a large picture from Raigan's wedding day. Her dark hair was swept back in a low bun and Dawson was looking very dapper in his black robes, his sandy blonde hair slicked back. She and Dawson were laughing in the picture, just before they kissed. He used to do that a lot. Say something funny and then try to kiss her while she was still laughing. She had complained about it, but James had always thought it was a little half-hearted.

"Hey," she called out of the kitchen.

"Want some help?" he asked, coming around the corner and under the arched doorway into the kitchen. It was a big room with yellow walls and white tiled counters. Raigan didn't spend a lot of time at home, what with living at Hogwarts most of the year, but somehow, she had managed to make it feel homey anyway. She'd only been back three-days, but already the counter above the sink was loaded up with a large bowl of fruit, a loaf of banana bread, and a tray of scones. There were fresh cut flowers in a vase on the table, and the windows were cracked open. The breeze slipped in and fluttered the ends of the white, eyelet curtains, tied off to the sides.

"You can pour the lemonade if you want. And set the table."

James laughed, because her lack of faith in his cooking ability was only too familiar. Remaining a bachelor into his mid thirties hadn't improved his cooking skill any, although he blamed this less on his lack of ability than on the convenience of delicious meals prepared three times a day by the house-elves at Hogwarts.

"Got it," he said, opening up the fridge. There was a pitcher of lemonade inside and the pulp told him it was homemade. He grabbed glasses and plates from the cabinet and sent them all over to the table at once with a flick of his wand. They settled in front of three separate chairs. A second wave of his wand and the pitcher began to pour on it's own.

"So," she said. "How was your first day?"

"It was fine," he said. "Gillespie's actual plan of attack is nonexistent, but I'll figure out something to do."

"Well, he was always that way, wasn't he?" said Raigan. She tucked her hair behind her ear. "Anyway, did you finally come to your senses?"

James feigned cluelessness."Oh, come on," she said. "You know exactly who I'm talking about."