I hinted at this one a while back, (years ago, but we're not going to talk about that). It's also on the longer side of the ones I've written so far at over 14k words, so I hope you like it.
This, as always, is unedited so please look past any mistakes or errors
Also, mama deer has been having a bad day (a bad few days, I won't lie) so please leave lots of comments. Reading comments makes my day ~~ (And I won't lie, when some of you leave gif reactions, it makes me chuckle)
Anyway, onto the one shot
____________________
At the beginning of the school year, when I'd entered the Prefect's carriage, ready to begin my journey as the Head Girl, I hadn't been impressed by the student chosen to be the Head Boy. How could I be when it was James Sirius Potter who'd grinned back at me with that infuriatingly charming smile? He wasn't the first choice that had sprung into my head, not when I knew he was probably one of the least rule-abiding students in the seventh year. And yet, he was the one Headmistress McGonagall had chosen. Perhaps she hadn't experienced a temporary lapse in judgement as I'd originally thought.
James, it turned out, was good at filling in the areas where I fell short. Of course, I could organise the Prefects rounds and sort out any and all issues that our Headmistress chose to throw our way, but James had an easy manner with the Prefects that I didn't have. He was probably a better leader than I was, being able to convince Prefects to switch last minute rounds for the betterment of the team and supporting them all to overcome any squabbles that might have happened. I might have been the one that found it easier to fulfil the more well known traditional responsibilities of being the Head Girl, but he definitely surpassed me when it came to his capabilities of being a leader.
"Morgan," James said like he knew I was thinking about him. He peered up from the papers he'd been studying. He grinned like he knew he'd caught me admiring him, "Any reason you're staring at me?"
"I wasn't staring," I said, rolling my eyes even as I felt heat rise to my cheeks. Casing a glance around the empty Great Hall, I couldn't shake the feeling that it was just a tad eerie without any other students here. But it was past curfew and they were supposed to be in their common rooms. "I'm trying to sort out these patrol routes."
"I told you," he reminded me, watching as I drew the new patrol routes that I'd proposed towards me. "You sort out the routes and I'll tide over the Prefects and make sure no one kicks up a fuss."
"I still need you to sign off on them." Furrowing my brows contemplatively, I laid the patrol routes side by side to compare them. I was certain that I'd missed a part of the castle and if I had done that, it wouldn't take long for the students to realise and take advantage of that.
"I'll sign off on anything you think is good enough."
Rolling my eyes and preparing to call him out on not wanting to do the work, I trailed off when I realised he was looking at me. He was looking at me in the way he never tried to hide; equal parts admiration and affection. James met my eyes head-on, with no signs of bashfulness and unrepentant. It was always the case and it was just so James. He was always honest, always straightforward and had little reason to hide anything. So why should he hide the way he felt? Why shouldn't he wear his vulnerable heart on his sleeve?
"What?" I managed, my voice coming out soft, despite wanting to put some bark into the word. Somehow, with him, that was always impossible.
"When are you going to let me take you out?" He propped his crossed arms on the tabletop, waiting. Rowena, he really was always all in.
Scoffing and rolling my eyes, I returned to the patrol routes. "I have very high standards, thank you very much."
"And I think you'll find I fit into those high standards."
Pointedly ignoring him, I managed to find the gap in the patrol routes and reshuffled some of the plans around to make sure it wasn't missed. When I was done, I double and triple checked that every part of the castle was now covered. Thankfully it all was and I straightened my spine, stretching my back. My eyes drifted across the table to James who had fallen silent and was once more looking over the patrols. Not that he was paying them much attention. He sat with his head propped up on his closed fist and looked briefly over each route.
I took the chance to study him, just a little. He really was extremely handsome, and probably too friendly. James was able to get along with everyone, and it was something I admired about him - he was even able to get along with me when I was at my prickliest. He always made it so difficult. Likely feeling my eyes on him again, James lifted his head and met my eyes. I tried my best to keep myself from flushing at being caught again and berated myself for not having more composure, for being caught out by him twice now. I really should have been better at this by now.
To make matters worse, James straightened up confidently, that ridiculous smile making its way back onto his face. He said, "You know if you're not going to take my word for it, ask Forester."
"What exactly am I supposed to ask Forester?"
"She'll attest that I'm a man that fits your standards." Shaking my head incredulously, I listened as he insisted, "I mean, what are best friends for, if not to vouch for you when you're trying to win over women."
"Win over women huh?"
"Well, woman - a woman." He offered me another charming grin, "So what about it?"
Ignoring his question, I asked, "So, I'll bite, what exactly does Forester get out of your arrangement then?"
"Just you wait, I'll have her with Teddy even if it's the last thing I do."
Intrigued, I checked I hadn't heard wrong, "Teddy Lupin? The same Teddy Lupin who was in his last year when we started?"
"That's the one." Even when I continued to look dubiously, James just nodded sagely, "Trust me, it'll happen. Although that'll be a bit of a long game, it'll happen."
**********
With all the extra responsibility added to my plate, it was sometimes difficult to find time to work on the assignments and essays that still needed my attention. I absolutely could not let my grades fail because of all the new responsibilities that I'd taken on for myself. But somehow, I was managing it. Even if it was a struggle, I was managing to find time to settle in the library to get my work done. Most people knew not to bug me, and I took the table that was isolated in the corner of the library to further cement that fact.
Which was why, when someone did sit across from me at the table, I had a handful of people in mind for who it could be. I waited until I reached the end of my sentence to cast a curious glance upwards and was unsurprised to find James sitting across from me.
"You can carry on," he said, drumming his hands in a silent rhythm against the tabletop as he waited. "I'll wait until you reach a natural pause. I know exactly what you're like when someone disturbs you."
I opened my mouth to rebut his words, but who was I kidding? He of all people did know how snappy I could get if I was interrupted partway through my train of thought. James had only needed to be chewed out once to learn his lesson. And I had, of course, apologised to him once I'd come to my senses. But the lesson stuck. So I said nothing and instead returned to my essay, picking up where I had left off and carrying on with my paragraph. When I reached the end of it, I grabbed a spare piece of paper and jotted down where my thoughts were leading and what I planned for the upcoming paragraphs and stuck the spare piece to the corner of my parchment with a murmured sticking spell. If I waited until I'd reached a natural rut in my essay, James would be waiting for ages.
Once I was satisfied that my planned notes wouldn't budge, I put my wand down on the table. Straightening up and leaning comfortably against the back of the chair, I regarded the still silent Gryffindor with a curious tilt of my head. He still didn't speak, offering me a gentle smile that had me smiling back in return. There was no point in fighting it or denying it; James made me smile.
"So," I started when it became obvious that he wouldn't speak first, "what can I do for you, Potter?"
"What can you do for me?" he started teasingly, in a tone that already had me regretting my phrasing. "Well, you can start by doing me."
"James," I said warning, narrowing my eyes at him.
"You're right." He raised his hands in surrender, "That can wait until later. Or - now if that's what you want."
"I swear to-"
"Later it is then," he concluded with a wink. I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from smiling. He didn't need the encouragement. "Anyway, I thought I'd check in on you; did you get a chance to speak to Forester?"
"Forester?" I repeated, wondering why he was bringing up the Hufflepuff student. Was there something she needed help with? Something that needed the Head Girls' help? "Why would I need to talk to Forester?"
"To get an assessment of my character, of course."
Shaking my head and a tad relieved that I didn't have an additional responsibility to add to my already long list, I muttered, "Be serious, Potter."
"That's my middle name," he reminded me, the comment lacking its usual jesting tone and smile that accompanied it. Instead, he was holding my eyes so earnestly that I could feel my ears begin to ring. My senses zeroed in on him, as the unsettling realisation dawned on me; this was happening. He meant this. My brain worked quickly, trying to find some way out of this situation, even as he added, "It's literally impossible for me to be anything but."
Unable to do anything, to think of a way to stop this without hurting him, or breaking his heart, I tried to evade it altogether. "James-"
I couldn't get further than calling his name. But it was enough. Visibly, under my eyes, his confidence deflated. Yet, he stayed right where he was, just as determined. He really was a Gryffindor through and through; bold even when he shouldn't have been. Silently, I made all sorts of bargains with Rowena, and even to Helena who I knew wouldn't be far, to come and swoop me up and away before he could say anything more. Righteous Rowena, I would have gratefully welcomed a disruptive appearance from Peeves. Of course, life would never be so helpful.
Instead, I was forced to sit across from James who decided to pour his heart out so sweetly that I could feel my heart swaying when it really shouldn't have been. James spoke, eyes fixed on mine so steadily that I couldn't bring myself to look away. "I am, really serious about this Morgan, I know I probably act like a tosser sometimes, but you do something to me. You make me all warm inside and you make me want to impress you all the time. I probably fail most of the time, but still."
"James," I said softly, in a last-ditch effort to cut him off, my eyes falling to my hands as they fidgeted in my lap.
He continued as if I hadn't tried to interrupt, "But you have to know how much you mean to me, you're a smart woman, Morgan. And if you just give me a chance to show you, I know I could treat you really well. I might even be able to make you fall in love with me too. So? Will you let me take you to Hogsmeade this weekend?"
I wanted to say yes, I wanted nothing more than to say yes to this boy, this man who was sitting across from me with his heart bared and mine for the taking. This man whose eyes had never strayed, even when I was nothing to him - not even a colleague, who made no attempt to hide his affection towards me. This man who made my stomach flutter and my heart thump under his eyes and who was, without a doubt, the best part of my day. I wanted to say yes, but it wouldn't be fair to him. It would never be fair to him.
The silence lengthened and I couldn't bring myself to speak. Finally, James asked quietly, "Say something, please."
Wringing my hands together in my lap, I forced myself to look him in the eyes; I wouldn't do him the disservice of not looking at him. I forced the words out of my mouth, each tasting like sandpaper, "If I could say yes James, I would. I would love to say yes to you. But I can't."
He didn't protest instantly, instead, he regarded me carefully, weighing the severity of my tone. "Well, why not?"
"It's old fashioned," I started with a sad smile, preparing to shatter his heart, despite not wanting to. I didn't want to shatter his heart, I wanted to treasure it, to look after it. But it wasn't mine to look after. "It's old fashioned - my family has more than its fair share of old fashioned traditioned. And well, I'm betrothed. I have been since I was born."
"What?" His eyebrows drew together with a deep furrow. "Wait - you're engaged?"
Nodding, I struggled to say anything. But what more was there to say when my words had opened a chasm in the space between us. It was stupid, and I'd known this conversation would need to have happened at some point, and yet, I could feel it wrapping around my throat, tightening until it was hard to swallow.
"Fuck," James cursed, running a hand through his hair as he ducked his head.
I wanted to echo the sentiment, but I didn't. We both sat instead in silence.
**********
I had rounds coming up.
It was my turn to complete the late-night rounds with James as my partner and I was dreading it. I was tempted to hunt down a Prefect and switch rounds with them just so I wouldn't have to see James because how could I see him? How could I see him after I'd seen the way he'd left the library yesterday, shoulders hunched and far quieter than he usually was? He'd said it himself, if I hadn't wanted him, it would have been better than for him to know that I did want him but I couldn't have him. How were we supposed to move past this? But we did have to move past this. We were partners, and we would remain partners for the rest of the year. We needed to be able to work together. Except, it was more than that. James was my friend, he was someone that meant a lot to me, beyond the Head Boy to my Head Girl. He was more to me than a colleague and I didn't want to lose him.
But I knew, whatever we were moving forward, it would be different. And I couldn't push him. I had to let him decide for himself. This wasn't something I could control.
Finally making it to the spot where we'd decided to meet, my steps slowed as I approached the painting, surprised to find James already standing there and waiting. Usually, it was the other way round, I was usually the one waiting. The Gryffindor, who had been searching the corridor, likely looking for me, let his eyes settle on me as I approached. Was it just my imagination or did his eyes look me over before glazing over a little, hardening like he was putting on armour? It stung, more than I thought it would.
Still, I forced my feet forward until I reached his side. Reaching his side, I didn't know what to say, or even if I was supposed to say anything. Would it be strange to even greet him?
James spoke to fill the silence, not quite looking at me as he said, "I know, you're probably surprised that I actually made it here on time."
"Yeah, I am," I said quietly and we settled once more into an uncomfortable silence. Silence didn't suit us, and yet, it was what we had now.
Without another word, we set off to start patrolling. Neither of us spoke a word, stuck in this heavy silence that wanted to suffocate us. This was all my fault. No matter how I looked at the situation, no matter which viewpoint I took, it was still always my fault. Not his - mine and mine alone. James had flirted with me, I knew that the entire school knew that, but I shouldn't have flirted back. I should have minded myself and kept a very firm boundary between us because that was why I'd kept him at a distance. I knew I'd fall for him if I let him close enough. And sure enough, I had fallen for him. I had allowed myself to be moved by his words and his actions and his heart, and now I'd shattered both his and mine in one fell swoop. I should have been the cold-hearted bitch the castle thought I was, I should have kept him away.
The patrol, feeling like it took almost twice as long as it usually did, finally came to a close. We reached the start point again, and I prepared to turn away, ready to give James a parting murmur. But I couldn't. He turned his body like he was planning on following me.
Before I could protest, James spoke for the first time since we'd started our patrol, "I'll walk you back to your common room."
"Oh no," I said, putting a hand up to protest, "I can walk myself back."
"Don't be weird," he shot back instantly, without heat. James gestured for me to lead the way. I did so reluctantly, turning to walk towards Ravenclaw tower and watching him from the corner of my eye. "I always walk you back to your common room after rounds, Morgan."
He had a point. Not that I said it.
I didn't speak a word as we trekked back to my common room and neither did he. We walked in silence and I matched my steps with his, one by one. Two parts of me warred internally, the one that wanted to stay by his side, and the side that wanted to rush away from him, to hide away and get myself as far away from this situation as I could.
Reaching the entrance to the common room, I made sure not to look at James as I waited patiently for the bronze knocker to recite the riddle. Hidden under my robe sleeves, I fidgeted with my fingernails, chipping away at the polish. The longer I stood at his side, with James so uncharacteristically silent, the more the horrible realisation settled in; I'd ruined it all.
I speak without a mouth and hear without ears. I have no body, but I come alive with the wind. What am I?
I knew the answer. But I didn't say it straight away. I wasn't sure why, but I wanted to stay with James just a little longer. It was painful to be with a hurting James, but I wanted to do it nonetheless. Especially when I didn't know how long he'd let me linger around him like this.
"Do you not know the answer?" James asked at last.
"I know the answer." I turned towards him, watching him for a long moment. For the first time all night, he met my eyes and they softened under mine. I almost wished they hadn't; this way I could see the heartbreak in them. "Merlin James, I'm sorry for leading you on."
"You don't need to apologise," he responded instantly. "Besides, you didn't lead me on."
"That's not true, and you know it," I said softly, hating myself for it all the same.
James shrugged off the words, paying them no mind. How could he do that? Roll his shoulders as if the emotional blows would just roll off of them? "Besides, it's not the end of the world, Morgan. Do you really think this'll last long?"
"... James."
"It's just a crush," he said firmly. For the first time all night, he offered me a smile. It was nothing like his usual smile, it was a horrendous imposter of his usual one, but my greedy heart accepted it, nonetheless. "This is a crush so forget about it, yeah? Think we can still be friends?"
His final question eased the iron band around my lungs and I breathed easier. I was honest when I responded, "I would love that."
**********
In the years following Hogwarts, I found myself busy trying to navigate the adult world and all the responsibilities that came with it. Despite all my fondest memories of my time at school, I couldn't help but think it hadn't really prepared its students for life outside of its protected walls.
"Miss Morgan?" The Goblin in front of me watched me with a careful eye, outstretching a receipt of my most recent deposit out to me.
"Thank you," I said, accepting the piece of paper and checking it with a careful eye.
I knew it was unlikely that there was an error, but when it came to our family's charitable fund, I couldn't be too careful. Sure enough, there was no error, and I signed off at the bottom. Returning the receipt to the goblin, I watched as he copied it and handed one back to me for my records. Once more thanking him, I made my way out of the bank and into the busy street - the overly busy street.
There was a crowd of reporters, all shouting over one another, trying to get a picture of someone important. They were a nuisance, forcing members of the public to give them a wide berth and making parents clutch their children close, lest they disappear into the scrambling group of reporters. I searched for the safest way past the reporters and set about squeezing between the reporters and the crowd that upon realising who the reporters were photographing, had joined the frenzy.
"Mr Potter! Mr Potter! James!" The shouts mixing over each other, almost had me stopping, but I forced my feet forward, even as I realised that it made sense - the international training camp he'd gone on would have ended by now. It made sense that he was back in England.
I continued, struggling slightly as the reporters started pushing slightly, likely following James who was just trying to get on with his life. The same James who had pushed his way through the crowd and emerged on the other side, standing in front of me with the same grin he'd always had. Surprised at seeing him, I just blinked up at him, and returned the same grin. I tried my best to pay no heed to the reporters clambering around us, no doubt taking dozens of pictures. This wouldn't be the first time my picture had been snapped with the internationally renowned, yet still new addition, to the English quidditch team.
"Hello there stranger," James said in greeting.
"Hi stranger," I said, just as soft.
"I thought I recognised you."
"I should've known it was you," I returned, "trouble follows you."
James didn't deny my words, just laughing a little. Although, that smile faded a little when I blinked harshly following an extremely bright camera flash as if the camera had been thrust until it was mere centimetres from my face. I averted my head away from the camera, trying to get away from them, but they were everywhere. I blinked rapidly, trying to get rid of the lingering effects of the flash which I knew would pass soon enough.
Not that it seemed quick enough for James, who was there with a steadying hand on my elbow. When he spoke next to address the group of reporters, his voice was firm, no longer humouring them, "That's enough now, guys. You've got your pictures."
Even as the reporters protested, wanting to get more pictures, James kept a firm hold on my arm, escorting me through the crowd and paying the reporters no mind. I followed him step by step, slipping into the open gap that emerged directly behind him. He led me into the nearest shop, a tea shop and abandoned the reporters outside.
When we were firmly inside, the door shutting behind us, James released my arm. He ducked his head a little as if trying to search my eyes. Concerned, he asked, "Everything alright now?"
"All good," I reassured him.
"Merlin, I'm sorry about that. They can get a bit intense" He raised a hand to rub the back of his neck. Before I could say anything, James gestured to the tea shop, "So, fancy joining me for some tea? It's been ages and we need to catch up."
I should have declined it, but I didn't want to. Instead, I just agreed, "It has been."
James clearly pleased that I'd accepted, led me to a corner table with a smile. We settled across from each other, and I shrugged out of my jacket. I turned to lay it over the back of my chair and when I looked back, I regarded James curiously when I realised he was watching me. Even when I caught his eye, he didn't look away. Not that he ever did.
Arching an eyebrow, I asked, "What?"
"Nothing." He finally looked away with a small smile, reaching for the menu even though I knew he wasn't going to read it. "You just get more beautiful each time I see you."
My breath caught a little, heart thundering in my chest in the way it only he could cause. "James-"
"Sorry," he apologised, unnecessarily.
Meeting his eyes and holding his gaze for a few seconds, I tried to tease and inject some levity into the air, "Stop it you, I know all about the women you're chasing after. Your face is splashed all over the newspapers."
"Oh please," he scoffed, "that's all tabloid fodder. You of all people know I'm a one woman kind of man."
Before I could say anything, not that I would know what to say, James stood and headed to the counter, telling me that since he already knew my usual order, he was going to order. I watched as he made his way through the small shop, attracting attention from the customers but he didn't appear to notice. But he certainly had my attention, he almost always had it. Even now, after these years it was still the case.
James returned shortly after, returning with our order and taking his seat across the table from me again as if we were just having a friendly catch up. And we were supposed to be having a friendly catch up. Only, I wasn't too sure if any interaction between us could be purely platonic.
"So," James said as he stretched his legs under the table, "what's going on with the charitable fund? Any more donations coming in?"
Thankful for the change in topic, I sighed, "It's the same thing as always, we could always do with more donors."
"Well, my offer for a generous donation is always there," he pointed out, putting a teacup in front of me. He poured some tea into my cup.
"You know I can't take your money, James."
"Why not?" James watched as I stirred some sugar into my tea, "You know I've got the funds for it."
"That's not the issue James and you know it."
"Come on Morgan," he insisted, pouring far far too much milk into his tea - although he liked to claim I didn't add enough milk into mine. "5000 galleons, you know I'm good for it. Besides, the children that benefit from the trust could use the money."
He had a point. Despite my reluctance to take money from my friends, he had a point; the children needed the money. I just hoped he knew how much it meant to me, when I said, "Thank you."
Shrugging, James took a sip from his tea before saying, "What are friends for."
Friends, he was right there. We were friends. And that didn't stop him from sounding like he hated the word.
Clearing his throat, James straightened up in his seat before offering me a winning smile and saying, "The donation will need to be anonymous though, I don't need the tabloids finding out and ruining my image."
"I promise," I said, reaching out to put my hand on top of his. "You have no idea how much this means to me, James."
"I'm just glad I could help," he insisted, turning his hand under mine so our palms met.
My eyes met his, holding his gaze; it would be so easy to link our fingers together, to properly hold his hands. It was something I'd spent more time than I'd ever admit thinking about, but I didn't. Especially when I heard someone call my name, I was quick to take my hand away.
Withdrawing from James, I was surprised to find my grandparents making their way across the shop towards me. Standing to greet them with a hug, I didn't miss the way my grandfather's eyes looked assessingly over James who also rose from his seat, standing.
"These are my grandparents," I explained to James, gesturing to my grandparents. My grandmother in particular needed no introduction, but I still said, "This is James, we went to school together."
"It's so good to meet you," My grandmother said, launching herself at James and taking him in a warm embrace.
She started chattering his ears off, talking all about the last game she'd watched him play in. James, pleasantly surprised at my enthusiastic grandmother, met my eyes over her head before giving her his attention. Finally, when my grandmother stopped talking, James turned to face my grandfather. As if he was aware of my grandfather's scrutiny, James straightened to his full height, offering a hand for him to shake.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir."
For a moment, my grandfather eyed James's hand and I was worried he wouldn't take it. I cast a cautious glance towards my grandmother; we both knew what grandfather was thinking. Thankfully, at last, he accepted James's hand and managed, "Likewise."
Before anyone could say anything, James encouraged our grandparents to take a seat and join us at the table. Despite my grandfather looking like he didn't want to do anything of the sort, my grandmother forced him to sit down so she could get to know one of her favourite players. And she didn't disappoint. As soon as my grandmother sat down, she started rattling off question after question for James, who took it all in stride, answering them all. Somehow, she'd managed to invite herself to his next game and James agreed to it with a laugh.
"I'll send the tickets through Morgan," James assured my grandmother. "I'll be sure to take tickets for you all."
"If you can, send an extra one," my grandfather added to the conversation, "my future grandson will be visiting for the first time in years."
His words had me freezing a little in my seat, my eyes flickering up towards James in time to catch the way his smile faltered. But he managed to compose himself and reassured, "Of course, I'll arrange for another one."
When James's eyes glanced at me next, they were guarded and I hated it. All I could muster, was an empty, "Thank you."
**********
Lately, bursts of productivity were difficult to come by. I wasn't sure if that was because I was in the middle of a rut or because every day seemed to follow the same pattern, or because I was worried about bringing in more donors, but lately, it had been difficult to get anything done. And so, when I did find myself being more productive than I'd been in a while, I grasped it with both hands. I responded to the stack of letters that were waiting for me and sent out enquiry letters to multiple potential donors that I'd been wanting to get into contact with. Just as I went to move on to my next task, I was brought to a halt by a knock on the door. Sighing, I settled back into my chair; now that I'd been disturbed, I knew my productivity would take a nosedive.
Still, I called out, "Come in."
My door opened as my visitor walked right in, smiling widely. Just the sight of that smile was enough to have my irritation at my lack of progress disappear. James stood by the now-closed door as if it wasn't strange for him to be standing in my office.
"What are you doing here James?" I asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Aren't you supposed to be off training?"
"I've got an hour or so before that," he assured me, with a glance at the clock to double-check. "Yep, an hour."
"What can I help you with Potter?"
"Well," he drew the word out, walking further into the room and approaching my desk. My eyes tracked his approach, absolutely refusing to linger on his broad shoulders, "I actually meant to talk to you last time, but well."
James trailed off, not needing to explain. He had meant to say something to me in the tea shop, but my grandparents had joined us. My grandmother had come away from that meeting absolutely over the moon to have met an actual quidditch player, especially a quidditch player whose career she'd been following since it had begun. And my grandfather, well, he had reminded me that I was engaged. It had been as close to a scolding as he'd get.
Drawing myself out of my thoughts, I returned my attention to James. "What did you want to talk about? Did you need my help with anything?"
James shot me a teasing smile, summoning a chair and sitting across from me, "You've hurt me, Morgan. You're making it out to seem like I only come to find you when I want something."
"You know that's not what I meant." Shooting him a look, I leaned back against my chair. Crossing my arms over my chest, I watched him as James moved to the front of the chair.
He propped his arms on the desk and admitted bashfully, "But I do actually need something this time around."
"And you were giving me heartache." Scoffing, I gestured for him to speak.
"There's this upcoming charity gala and it's being hosted by the British Quidditch League."
When he didn't say anything else, I prompted, "Yeah?"
"Yeah. The quidditch big heads are looking to put more money into good marketing."
"Charity isn't good marketing," I shot back, my leg darting out under the desk to kick him. He easily batted away, stopping my kick from landing by blocking it with his foot. Just to rub salt into my wounds, he laughed at how little effort it took him.
When he stopped laughing, James looked at me from across the desk, holding my eyes. "Will you come with me?" Unable to answer him, I wondered silently if this was a date. Because we couldn't do dates. As if he knew where my mind was, James assured me, "This isn't a date Morgan, you're just the most charitable person I know."
"I don't know," I said hesitantly.
"You should come," James insisted, brushing aside my reservations. "Besides, there'll be plenty of people with big pockets there who are looking for good causes to donate their money to."
He had a point. It would be a good networking opportunity and the charitable trust needed more donors, especially if I wanted to help as many vulnerable children as I could. The more donors we had, the more good I could do. And yet, I couldn't help but wonder if this was right if this was okay to do. My grandfather's words echoed in my mind.
"Come on," James cajoled. When I looked back at him, he offered me an encouraging smile. "If I had to dress up in stuffy dress robes, I want to do it with you at my side."
"Alright," I conceded with a sigh as if spending a night on James's arm was a chore. "Fine, I'll come with you."
"Great." His grin widened. "Make sure you get yourself some decent dress robes, Morgan, you've got a lot of people to win over to your trust."
I couldn't even remember the last time I'd needed to wear dress robes. Rowena did I even own any dress robes that would still fit me. "I'll have to make time to go shopping."
"I'm sure you'll find something." James prepared to leave, standing from his seat. Although, when he stood, he didn't move right away. Instead, James was looking down at me and I found myself captive under his eyes, unable to look away. When he spoke next, his voice was soft and hesitant, "What was that colour you wore to my last birthday? The purple?"
"Burgundy," I corrected him.
"Yeah, that. I think you should get burgundy if you're up for suggestions."
"I'm not sure-"
"I think you look stunning in burgundy," he declared simply before clearing his throat. Quickly, James reached into his pocket and leaned down to put something onto the desk.
He walked away then, to the door, opening it and leaving my office before I could say anything. Not that I could say anything. His statement had robbed me of my words and I could only watch as he left. At last, my eyes settled on what he'd left behind - tickets to his next match, 4 of them. One for me, two for my grandparents and one for my fiance. My grandfather had a point, this wasn't right and yet I was doing it regardless.
**********
My grandmother, over the moon at actually having front row seats to the quidditch game and sitting in the VIP section, had insisted that we arrive early. And my grandfather, who was helpless but to follow her every whim, had conceded and we'd arrived at the stadium early. So early that my grandfather had gotten bored and wandered off, leaving me to keep my grandmother company as she rattled off the statistics of the different players as she watched them warm up. I could only watch her with an incredulous shake of my head. She knew her stuff, so much so that the other occupants of the VIP section were impressed.
I left our seats just long enough to get us both something to drink. By the time I returned, my grandmother was talking to some of the members of the team who had entered the stand to greet their friends and family. Watching her in wonder, I couldn't help but laugh; she didn't even know these players and yet she was talking their ears off as if she'd known them their entire lives. Making my way to our seats, I settled back down and handed her a drink. The two players, players I didn't recognise beyond knowing they were on James's team - not that I knew much about Quidditch - nodded to acknowledge me and continued, walking over to greet their family.
My grandmother accepted her drink with a smile, sitting in her seat and practically thrumming in excitement. She took a long sip before saying, "I needed this, my throat is all dried up."
"You're going to end up losing your voice again," I said, shaking my head. "Take it easy."
"I can't help that I want to talk to them all," my grandmother protested as I looked across the stand at the players who chattered to their guests.
My eyes lingered on James, finding him easily amongst the crowd, and watching as he talked to his parents. He was nodding at something his dad was telling him before his eyes lifted like he could feel the weight of my gaze. James, locking eyes with mine, was quick to offer me a soft smile that had my heart thumping uncomfortably. I hurried to look away, turning back into my grandmother as she talked hurriedly about the plays she was certain the teams would use. And to think, she hadn't even liked quidditch until a few years ago.
Her love of the game was relatively new, but that didn't stop her from jumping to her feet and chiming with excitement, "James!"
Startled, my eyes flickered up to James who appeared before us. He was quick to return my grandmother's embrace, and over her shoulder he watched me. Standing from my seat, I listened as he thanked my grandmother for coming. When he released my grandmother, James moved to hug me without a second's pause. I returned it, winding my arms around his neck and holding him close, far too physically aware of him.
Removing my arms and stepping away from James, I tucked myself behind my grandmother. James held my eyes, just a second longer before he lowered his eyes to watch my grandmother as she talked excitedly.
He nodded at whatever she said, before he said, "Thank you for coming. I'm glad you're here to wish me luck."
"Of course, we'd be here," my grandmother responded. "After you went to all that trouble to drop the tickets off for us, how could we miss it? Besides, I've got money riding on this game, so you better not let me down, Potter."
Laughing, James mock saluted her. "Yes ma'am."
The laughter in James's features faded and I almost asked him what was wrong. I didn't. Instead, I followed his gaze, turning around to find my grandfather walking toward us with a familiar stranger with him. Just the sight of the other man had me glancing cautiously towards James; did he realise who this was?
Coming to a stop next to us, my grandfather studied James who was quick to greet him, "Thank you for coming, sir."
"Of course, thank you for inviting us." My grandfather nodded. Before I could hope to, my grandfather made the introductions. Gesturing between the two men, he said, "This is David Ulett. My future grandson."
The two men shook hands, speaking quietly and making small conversation. I couldn't help but study James who didn't look like his usual self; his smile was smaller, a false one even as he stood taller, taller than David, with his shoulders straight. He easily dwarfed David and yet, I could tell from his expression alone, that he felt lesser than this man. Was it because my grandfather so clearly approved of David?
"I'm sorry," James said, at last, turning to address us as a group, "but I should get going, we need to run a few drills before the match starts."
"Of course," my grandmother hurried James away with a beam. "Good luck."
"Thank you," James said, preparing to walk away. His eyes lingered on me for a moment and I wanted to talk to him, to say something, anything. But what was there for me to say? I could only look away, evading James's eyes as he finally turned to leave.
Once James disappeared, my grandmother took her seat and my grandfather was quick to join her. Taking my own seat, I glanced apprehensively towards David who settled into the seat beside me. For the first time all day, for the first time since he'd returned to England at that, David addressed me.
"Hi," he said with a smile. His eyes were searching the pitch in front of him. He only looked at me for a few seconds before turning his attention back to the players. "It's been a while."
"It has been," I agreed. Neither of us had made any effort to get into contact with the other. There were no letters exchanged, just the occasional fly-by visit, which was extremely rare. Studying the man sitting next to him, I wondered if this lack of contact worked for him. Was this how he saw his future? Full of indifference and no affection?
At last, he turned to face me. But this time, it was my turn to look away. "I hear your family's charity is looking for donations."
"We are," I agreed, but I didn't say anything else. My eyes had located James as he made it onto the pitch. He was the future I wanted, but the man sitting beside me was the future I had.
**********
It was time to go to the charity gala, and yet, I was looking for ways to back out. Even as I dressed and sorted out my hair, I was contemplating writing to James, to tell him that I'd come down with some illness and he'd have to go alone. We hadn't spoken since the quidditch game and I was dreading seeing him again. But, at the same time, I wanted to see him. As selfish as it made me, I wanted to see James and spend time with him. He'd rightfully retreated from me but it still hurt. As horrible of a human being as it made me, I wanted to be around James.
Finding the earrings I wanted to wear, I walked out into the living room, searching for my shoes. Securing both earrings in my ear, I found the heels, tucked behind the armchair, probably from when I'd last kicked them off when the floo activated. Looking up in surprise, I watched as James stepped out of my fireplace, dusting the lingering soot on his shoulders. Rowena, I hadn't expected my stomach to lurch the way it did at just the sight of him.
James, handsome as ever, searched the room until he found me. He didn't approach me right away, and that was enough to have my smile faltering. Eventually, he looked me over, the corners of his mouth turning up, but not quite smiling. "You look good, Morgan."
"You too, Potter," I said just as quietly.
Averting my eyes away from him, I perched on the sofa and leaned down to put my heels on. Securing them at the ankles, I made sure to cast a numbing spell on both of my feet and stood, only to find James standing directly in front of me. Startled at the sight of him, I faltered a little on my feet, grateful to James when he reached out instantly, securing my waist and keeping me upright.
"Sorry," he said, before releasing me. He walked away, approaching the window sill as if he couldn't let go of me quick enough. "I didn't mean to surprise you."
My eyes trailed after him, hurt. I should have expected this, but still. It still hurt. "I should have been more careful."
James didn't say anything right away. Instead, he appeared to be busy, reading the newspaper that I'd left on the windowsill after having read it. I knew exactly which was at the top of the pile. James's picture had been splashed all over the front page and although that wasn't strange, the type of picture was. In the picture he was seen being forced out of a bar, cradling a bruised and bloody fist.
"James," I called out, coming up behind him. When I reached his side, I almost put a hand on his back but stopped myself. "Fancy telling me what your bar fight is about?"
"Absolutely not," James said finally, shaking himself from his stupor. He straightened to his full height, giving me a real smile. Even if it was smaller than his usual ones. "I've already gotten a bollocking from my agent, I don't need one from you too."
"What makes you think I'll give you a bollocking?" I shot back.
His smile widened then, and James looked more like himself. He leaned towards me, nudging his shoulder against mine as he teased, "Because I know you. It's fine, I just need to be on my best behaviour for a while."
I didn't ask what being on his best behaviour meant, or what it looked like. Instead, I watched as James returned the newspaper to the window sill, catching sight of the multiple minor cuts dusted across his knuckles. Drawing in a breath, and before I could stop myself, I reached for his hand, cradling it between both of mine. James didn't stop me.
Preparing to demand he tell me what made him uncharacteristically lose his cool and start a bar fight, I looked up at James who stood taller than me. But my words died on my tongue, finding him looking intently down at me, studying my features. Robbed of my words and not knowing what to say, I watched as James sighed finally, drawing back from me and releasing my hands. I curled them behind my back; they were suddenly cold.
"We should get going," James said at last, "we don't want to be late."
Together, we walked out of the flat, and to the nearest apparition point. James apparated us to the gala, and we arrived at the entryway. Surprised at the sheer number of people around us and the overwhelming flashes of all the cameras, I looked to James for support. He was already there, wrapping an arm around my waist to reassure me. Silently, he gave me an encouraging smile and I breathed easier.
Escorting me into the building, James paid no heed to all the cameras that were snapping pictures of him - well, us. The reporters called his name, some shouting questions about his reason fight but he didn't address any of them. Instead, when we made it inside the building and headed into the hall where the rest of the guests were mingling, James dropped his head by my ear. He spoke softly, "Just you wait, tomorrow morning the papers will all be talking about me trying to steal you away from your fiance."
Frowning at his words, I turned to James, preparing to say something about his joke. But he wasn't looking at me. Instead, he waved at someone from across the room. When he finally looked back at me, James gave me an apologetic smile.
"I'll be right back, I just need to speak to my agent." He prepared to head off, to leave me alone. And before I could say something about being left to my own devices in a room of strangers, James was gesturing someone over towards us. "Don't worry, Forester's here, she'll keep you company."
He squeezed my hand reassuringly and then he was heading off into the crowd. My eyes trailed after James, watching as he greeted various people on his way and by the time I'd lost track of him, Forester had appeared at my side. She had two drinks in her hand and held one out for me.
"Thank you," I said, accepting the drink and taking a sip. "How have you been?"
"I feel like I'm always busy with work," the witch confided, joining me as I looked across the crowd around us. "I'm not even sure why I'm here when I should be sleeping. But you know what James is like."
"I do," I agreed with a small smile. My eyes searched the crowd, trying to track him down. When I failed in my endeavour, I looked back at Forester, realising she was watching me. "Forester?"
"I feel like these days I'm healing James up more than anything," she confessed. Her eyes lingered meaningfully on me and yet, I didn't understand what she was trying to imply. "Just the other day I had to patch him up when he got into that bar fight because of the article announcing your engagement."
I stilled, my heart faltering in my chest. Turning my body towards the other witch, I repeated quietly, "The article?"
"The one published in the society pages? Announcing your engagement?" When I continued to look at her with horror, she realised, "You didn't know."
"No." No, I didn't know. I didn't know that the reason James had devolved into uncharacteristic violence was because of my engagement. It was my fault. The fact that James was now skating on thin eyes was completely my fault.
"I have nothing against you," Forester announced finally with a heavy sigh. "I like you, Morgan, but I need you to stop messing my friend around."
What was I supposed to say to that when it was the truth? That didn't stop it from stinging. Unable to say anything, my eyes searched the crowd again, wanting to find James, to talk to him about it all. I wanted to know what had happened to make him punch someone because it had to be something more than just an announcement. Especially when he knew I was already engaged but did I really want to know -
My eyes settled on David, who stood on the other side of the room. Abandoning my search for James, I met my fiance's eyes and he raised his eyebrows in surprise. He lifted his glass to me then, and I repeated the gesture. But neither of us moved to approach the other. Just as neither of us had known the other would be here. How was I supposed to live a life with him?
At last, I turned my eyes back to Forester and acknowledged, "You're right."
"All I want is for you to be kind to him," Forester said finally, not looking at me. She was busy gesturing for James to come over as he approached, smiling at him. Hufflepuffs really did make the most loyal friends.
When James made his way over to us, he stood at my side. He looked between the pair of us and I forced myself to smile. "Everything alright?"
"Perfect," I assured him. My eyes flickered to his injured hand.
"So," Forester started, "how much trouble are you in Potter?"
"Not too much, I just need to do some interviews to build up my image again." Before I could say anything, James pointed across the room. "Forester, you'll find Teddy over there. Last I heard, he was looking for you."
Forester, startled by the words, didn't approach Lupin like I thought she would. Instead, she excused herself and darted in the other direction. Frowning, I watched her disappear.
"Don't worry, Teddy will hunt her down," James assured me, "He's got this weird knack of finding her."
"If you say so."
"Come in." James held his hand out for mine, "Let's get you mingling."
I hesitated to put my hands in his. James continued to watch me, expectantly, eyebrows raised. Silently, I slipped my hand into his and he gave me another smile, leading me through the crowd.
**********
My overthinking nature refused to let things lie. I couldn't ignore what I'd been told by Forester, much less forget it. Everything in me wanted to talk to James, to figure out if I really was the reason for his recent bad publicity. But something in me also didn't want to know. If it was confirmed to be the truth, I wouldn't be able to brush it aside the way I wanted to. If it wasn't confirmed, I could carry on pretending that the way things were was alright, that it wasn't selfish to behave the way I did.
"Do my eyes deceive me," James started, flying towards the stand where I was sitting. He alighted from his broom, joining me as I sat. Incredulously, he looked me over as I remained seated in the quidditch stands. "Do my eyes deceive me or is this Miss Morgan, voluntarily watching an open access quidditch practice?"
"Why do you think your eyes might be deceiving you?" I asked, watching as he rested his broom against the railing.
Joining me, he sat beside me and stretched his long legs out in front of him, copying my positioning. "Who knows, maybe one day I'll need glasses like my dad. Fucked up eyesight runs in my family."
"Right." I nodded, looking back out to the pitch where his team were taking a break.
"So?" James nudged me with his shoulder, watching me intently. "What's up?"
"I actually wanted to talk to you," I started slowly, forcing myself to speak. This had been all I could think about, but now, I had to force myself to speak my mind. "At the gala, I spoke to Forester and she told me about the bar fight ... why you had the fight, rather."
James held my eyes steadily before shaking his head. He averted his eyes, lifting his head to look up at the clouds. Aloud, he wondered, "You would think since I'm setting her up with Teddy she'd keep her nose out of my business."
"It's true then." He'd said it without actually saying the words. After a long pause, James lowered his head and looked at me again. Searching his shielded eyes, I could only manage a sincere, yet quiet, "I'm sorry, James."
"What are you apologising for?" he asked. Regarding me closely, James tilted his head curiously. "I'm the one that threw the punch, not you."
"... James."
Shrugging, he straightened up, propping his elbows on his knees. James held his hands together, glancing away from me and spoke quickly. He tried to sound detached and failed miserably, "Anyway, my agent thinks I should go on a date. Apparently, the media has decided that I'm trying to be a homewrecker, trying to steal you away from your fiance and I need an image rebrand."
His words hit me square in the chest like he'd physically struck me. It certainly felt that way because it was difficult to breathe properly. My chest was hurting and I could only look at James who was pointedly not looking at me as he spoke. It shouldn't have hurt me like this, and yet it did. It was horribly selfish, but this wasn't something I'd considered to be a possibility.
Unable to speak, I just listened to James as he continued steadily, "My agent's found one of the players from the Holyhead Harpies, apparently she's got a thing for me. And she wants to give this date a go."
My silence answered him again. Eventually, James turned his head, looking at me for a response. I wanted to say a lot. I wanted to say things I shouldn't say and because I shouldn't say them, I asked, "What do you want, James?"
"What does it matter what I want?" James asked with a sad smile. "We both know I can't have what I want."
He waited for me to contest the words and deep inside, I knew that if I did contest them, if I told him I'd break this engagement, everything would be alright. If I broke the betrothal, I knew James wouldn't even be considering this date. And yet, I couldn't say it. It wasn't in my hands to break this betrothal, not if I didn't want to break my grandparent's hearts, the same grandparents who had raised me from the moment my parents had abandoned me. How could I do that to them?
Shaking his head, James reasoned, "Besides, me and you, we're friends Morgan. I should probably go on this date, try and fix my reputation and try to move on."
"Please don't," I blurted out before I could stop myself. Although I knew better, although I knew how selfish I was being, my mouth was moving before my brain could catch up. "Please don't go on this date."
Startled and yet hopeful, James straightened up. He turned his body towards me, angling closer as he watched me with wide eyes. "What did you just say?"
"You heard me," I said quietly.
"And your betrothal? What about that?" My answering silence was complicated and yet, it was all the answer he needed.
"You won't end the betrothal but you'd ask me that?" He asked incredulously, eyes hardening as he stared directly into my soul. I could only hold his eyes hesitantly. When he spoke next, his hurt was evident. James was earnest but hurt and I'd hurt him. "I'm in love with you. You know I'm in love with you and you continue to let me be around you. You let me take you out on dates that are dates in everything but name."
"James," I tried to cut in, it was getting too painful to hear him continue. But when he waited for me to say something, I couldn't.
"I can't take you out on dates," he continued, speaking softly. "I can't hold you or kiss you, or - or make love to you because you're not mine. I love you, but you're not mine. You're engaged to someone else."
"You have to know," I started quietly, wanting to reach for him but not knowing if it would be welcome. "You have to know that I love you too, that I want you too."
But it wasn't enough. I could tell, just from the way he was looking at me. My love wasn't enough and my heart broke at the realisation. Not that it was a new one. I'd always known this was the way it would end up, but I'd delayed it to this point. And maybe it wouldn't have hurt this much if I hadn't put this off for so long.
"I can't do it." James shook his head, turning away from me. "As much as I love you, and Godric, something tells me I'll love you for the rest of my life, I won't be the other man in your life. I've got more respect for myself than that."
He stood up then, reaching for his broom and straddling it. Without another word, he flew away, joining his team and leaving me shattered behind him. Just because I knew this would be the outcome, didn't mean it hurt any less.
**********
My morning was, perhaps, the worst one I'd had in a long time. I'd woken up to a dull ache where my heart was supposed to be. It was the same dull ache I'd had each day since James had left me behind, determined to move on. Each morning brought with it the same numbness and it had been a difficult week already. I'd retreated to the safety of my grandparent's home, hoping to take my mind off of James with their soothing presence. It didn't work as well as I hoped it would have, but I didn't want to be alone in my flat, either.
After dressing for the day, I walked downstairs to join my grandparents for breakfast. I headed right over to take my usual place between them both. My grandmother started pouring me a cup of coffee and I thanked her with a smile, reaching for today's newspaper. The image on the front page had my grip tightening, my smile faltering and my heartbreaking all over again.
I'd wanted to see James again, but not like this. I didn't want to see him through the newspaper, watching an image of James on a date with one of the members of the Holyhead Harpies. They were seated across from each other and I had to admit, they suited one another. Even if James very clearly looked like he didn't want to be there. The James in the image appeared aloof, with no hint of his usual smile, and it didn't suit him at all. Not that I had any say in what suited him anymore. Not that I ever had.
Forcing my eyes away from the paper, I folded it in on the image, hiding it from my eyes. Setting it aside, I tried to ignore it and pretend I hadn't seen it. But I had, and it was difficult to pretend otherwise. I should have expected it; at some point, James would have to move on and live his life but some selfish part of me had hoped that somehow, things would work themselves out. That, at the end of it all, it would be my name that was written alongside his in the book of fate. Except, it wasn't. My name was already linked to someone else even if my heart was firmly settled with James.
My grandmother, picking up on my uncharacteristic silence, reached out to touch my hand, drawing me from my thoughts. Turning towards her, I offered her a smile.
Unconvinced, my grandmother watched me with furrowed eyebrows, "Is everything okay? You haven't eaten anything."
"I'm fine," I assured her. To prove my point, I put a slice of toast on my plate and reached for a boiled egg, even if I couldn't stomach the idea of eating it. Much like James, my appetite had turned its back on me.
Aware of the look my grandparents shared, I pretended not to see it. Picking up my spoon, I tapped it against my egg, cracking the shell. Peeling it off, I exposed the top part and the runny yolk. Slicing my toast lengthwise to make dipping easier, I couldn't actually bring myself to eat it.
At my side, my grandmother sighed. She rose from her seat, declaring, "Let me go and rustle up some pancakes, you always loved eating them."
"You don't have to," I protested instantly, watching my grandmother as she walked out of the dining room towards the kitchen. There was no point in her putting in the effort when I wasn't sure I would want to eat.
Left alone with my grandfather, I reached for my coffee and took a small sip. Putting the mug down again, my fingers inched towards the paper; perhaps I could just read the article and see what was written. Only, I knew better. Reading the article would do nothing for me, it would only further worsen my mood. Forcefully putting my hands back into my lap, I contemplated tracking down my grandmother.
"Do you love him?" my grandfather asked solemnly, piercing the silence.
Startled, my back straightened as I turned to look at him. He held my eyes steady as if reading my very soul and waiting for an answer. I wasn't sure what to tell him; I could hardly lie. "I don't know what you mean."
"Do you love him?" he repeated, just as firm. And the truth was the truth and I was tired of having to shield the truth of my heart. Hesitant and terrified of hurting my grandfather, I nodded just once, a tiny movement. He caught it nonetheless. Sighing, my grandfather pushed his glasses up his nose. "That settles it then. I need to write to David's father."
"David's father?" I murmured back, confused.
"This betrothal needs to end," he stated as if it was a matter of fact. As if he wasn't talking about breaking an alliance that had been set for decades.
Daring not to get my hopes up and yet, feeling like I was on the precipice of real relief, I could only muster up, "It's tradition."
"Tradition be damned in the face of your happiness." My grandfather, a usually taciturn man regarded me over the rim of his glasses. "Arranging this betrothal was the second most stupid thing my son has ever done in his life, the first being abandoning you and not realising what a gift it is to have a daughter."
Unable to say anything as tears welled up in my ears, I could only watch my grandfather with so much love my heart threatened to burst. He was a man of tradition, who believed things were done the way they'd always been done and yet, here he was breaking tradition. For me, when all I'd wanted to do was repay him for raising me when my father had failed to do it. No matter how much I tried to stop them, the tears welled up and fell when I blinked. Lowering my head to hide the tears, I sniffled.
Easing his way out of his seat at the head of the table, my grandfather came up beside me. He wrapped an arm around my shoulder, rubbing my back soothingly as he murmured, "I'm sorry for making you suffer for this long."
Shaking my head, I tried to protest that I hadn't suffered at all in his care, he had raised me well, tended to my every need and tried to make sure I always had the best. I supposed I could even see the mentality behind his not breaking the betrothal, at least that way he knew I'd be taken care of.
Even still, when my grandfather spoke, his voice was thick, "You've suffered a lot because of your stubborn grandfather, forgive me."
It was too much, I burst into loud sobs. Turning fully into his chest, I held him close to me, swearing I would never let my grandfather go. Through my tears, he continued to pat my back, giving an excuse when my grandmother walked into the room and rushed over, wanting to know why I was crying. I had no words. Trying to stop my sobs, I sniffled and reached for my grandmother, drawing her into the group embrace and holding her close. They were my everything.
**********
It was rather fitting that the same paper that published the news of my engagement also published the news that my engagement had broken. The society pages were rife with wonder about the reasoning and as I read the speculation that I'd strayed as a result of a dark-haired quidditch player, I didn't feel irritated. Rather, I was relieved. It was over and the rest of my life was mine to do whatever I wanted to do. The solution had been so easy and I was so thankful that it really was that easy.
Folding the paper in half, I added it to the growing pile of newspapers that resided on my window sill. Eventually, once I grew tired of looking at the growing pile, I'd force myself to get rid of them. For now, I didn't have the motivation to do that and it was the only slightly messy thing about my otherwise immaculate flat.
I'd returned to my flat for the first time in a week and set about cleaning it. I opened the windows to let some fresh air in and set about dusting the surfaces. Once I was satisfied they were all clean, I prepared to crack on with the laundry, carrying my laundry basket from the bathroom towards the kitchen. My footsteps halted when the floo activated.
Standing still in the middle of my front room, I watched the fireplace curiously, not expecting any visitors. I certainly didn't expect any visitors to tumble right through, practically running out of the fireplace when they arrived.
"Morgan!" James called out urgently, his footsteps coming to a rapid halt when he found me, waiting.
Surprised and more than a little apprehensive, I put my laundry basket down in front of me, almost like it was a barrier I needed between the pair of us. My eyes searched James's features, recognising the tiredness in his features as if he hadn't been sleeping. It was the sort of tiredness I'd seen when I'd caught him staying up every night in our seventh year when he was trying to keep his mind active whilst his dad was away on a mission.
"Hi," he said eventually, watching me from a distance.
"Hi," I returned, uncertainly.
James, still watching me, hesitated for a moment as if he didn't know what to do. I almost asked him what he was doing here. But I didn't. I'd thought he'd walked himself out of my life, that he wouldn't ever set foot in my flat again, but here he was. When the silence lengthened, James cleared his throat and walked with determination towards my window sill. He reached for the newspaper stack, taking the one at the very top, today's newspaper.
"Is this true?" he asked, holding the paper aloft. He didn't need to elaborate on what he meant, I already knew. Impatiently, he repeated, "Is what's written in here true?"
Nodding, I reached out for the laundry basket, curving my hand around the edge of it as if it would keep me steady. At the very least, it would hide the way my hands were shaking with my nerves. I knew this conversation would determine the rest of my life, it would decide what happened next and that was terrifying. "It's true."
He returned the newspaper to the top of the pile before turning to address me again. Only, James opened and closed his mouth as if not knowing what to say. Or rather, how to say it. Eventually, he just settled for, "How?"
"My grandfather," I explained, wondering how truthful to be. I decided to be honest, wholeheartedly honest. "He - he asked me if I loved you and I told him I did. That was all he needed, he wrote to David's father and ended the betrothal."
"And that was it?" he asked dubiously.
Tightening my hold on the laundry basket, I confirmed, "That was it."
James nodded resolute, just once. He stood still, watching me for just a second as if processing the information, and then he let out a sharp exhale through his nose. And then he was moving, closing the distance between us in quick strides and removing the laundry basket from between us. Taking my face in his hands, James tilted it up and stared right into my soul. Helpless to do anything but return his gaze, not that I wanted to do anything else, my hands reached out to hold his forearms.
"Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting to do this?" James murmured, sounding awed as he looked between my eyes.
Before I could ask him what he'd been waiting for, James lowered his head to mine and closed the distance between us. Even though I saw it coming, it still surprised me when James kissed me. My mouth parted in surprise under his, but I returned his enthusiasm, knowing that just like me, he was putting his all into this kiss. This kiss that I'd never believed would ever happen. Gripping his arms tight, I clung to him, feeling pure unadulterated giddiness sweeping through me as I felt him smiling against my mouth.
Reluctantly, James drew back. Not that he went far. James remained close, his forehead pressed against mine and his thumbs rubbing softly against the swell of my cheeks. He was still smiling, far wider than I'd seen in a while. Slowly, he breathed out an astonished, "Thank Merlin."
And before I could say another word, James leaned down and kissed me again. And again. And again. Deliriously happy and more than a little weak at the knees, I returned his affections eagerly each time.
Eventually, I pulled back, knowing I needed to speak. "I'm sorry, if I'd spoken to my grandfather sooner, this wouldn't have gone on this long. It would have been so much better."
"It's better now," he reassured me. "Godric, it's all better now. I can't wait to take you out on a date now."
"Speaking of dates," I said drawing out the words. Stepping out of his reach, I asked, "how was your date?"
"Date?" James's eyebrows furrowed, as he struggled to remember. And then he made a face, he tried to reach for me again but I dodged out of the way, trying not to smile when James's lower lip jutted out slightly. He was quick to say, "It was horrible, absolutely horrible. I was thinking about you the entire time."
"Really now?" I asked, watching him nod. Leaning forward, I grabbed a fistful of James's shirt and drew him closer to me. He complied, crossing the distance between us and looking curiously down at me. "No more dates, Potter."
"Well," he drew out the word, reaching a hand out to tuck some hair behind my ear, "I don't know about that. I'd love to go on dates with you. I've been thinking about going on dates with you since fourth year."
Charmed and trying not to show it - and knowing I was failing at it, I agreed, "Dates with me are fine."
**********
5 YEARS LATER
One of the supposed benefits of being involved with a quidditch player was the unlimited number of tickets available to you. There were always seats reserved in the VIP section off the stand with the friends and family of the other quidditch players that were just there and ready for the taking. Although, my grandmother was the person that made use of that perk the most. She attended each of James's games, especially his overseas games, and even if I wasn't going to the match, she dragged my grandfather with her and the pair spent their time cheering James on. But on the occasions where I did attend the games, my grandfather and I tag-teamed and I subbed in for him, keeping my grandmother company.
Even now, as James flew around, with the quaffles clutched against his chest, she was on her feet and cheering loudly. Shaking my head incredulously, I watched her from my seat. How did she have so much energy?
"That's filthy!" my grandmother screamed at the top of her lungs.
She watched as a bludger was shot straight towards James, narrowly missing his head. Thankfully he ducked his head and he was safe, but the dirty tactics from the other team had my grandmother screaming all sorts of profanity that put people to shame. It was the sort of language she would have berated me for using in my childhood. Under my careful supervision, my grandmother proceeded to get more and more worked up as James skillfully navigated his way through the onslaught of bludgers coming his way.
"Do you see this?" she asked incredulously, turning to face me. Laughing a little at her expression, I took my grandmother's hand and encouraged her to sit down again. She did, settling in her seat, but I knew sooner or later she would be upon her feet again. Turning to face me, she gestured to James as she demanded, "Do you see what they're trying to do to my boy!"
"They're trying to stop him from scoring," I said simply, rolling my eyes when she started grumbling in response. "That's their job, to stop the other team scoring."
"They're trying to knock him off his broom, to hurt him." When I didn't match her indignation, she pushed my knee. "That's your man out there, why aren't you concerned?"
"Because James can take care of himself," I insisted, looking pointedly to James who was still sitting firm on his broom and rapidly approaching the goal hoops. "He's a talented player and can take care of himself. Besides, his team beaters will help keep him safe."
My grandmother was unconvinced, but her eyes returned to the pitch. She quickly located James who was flying determinedly towards the hoops with the quaffle. Speaking quickly and chanting her encouragements, my grandmother gathered her hands together. My eyes were locked onto James, following him as he game to a stop in front of the hoops, throwing the quaffle that sailed, undeterred, through the hoop.
The stands around us erupted into cheers and like I knew she would be, my grandmother was up on her feet again. She was jumped up and down like an overly excited school girl but I wasn't focusing on her. Instead, my eyes were watching James who was flying towards our stand to celebrate. He came close enough, hovering in the air next to us and blowing a kiss straight toward me. I made a show of catching it, grinning and watching as he returned to the game as if he'd never taken his attention away from it.
Distantly, I heard the commentator over the microphone, "Would you look at the lovebirds, ladies and gentlemen. There's our resident Romeo, showering his wife with his goal celebration."
The stadium erupted into catcalls but I paid them no mind. Instead, my eyes were fixed solely on James who flew effortlessly through the air. He gave the match his all, hyper-focusing on it in a way he focused on little. But right up until the end, he gave it his all. And when his team won, he was one of the players to celebrate the most.
Once the match had ended, the spectators started to leave their seats, preparing to return home. I remained seated a little longer, knowing it would be easier for my grandmother to make it through the crowd when fewer people were hanging around. After the crowd had thinned out a little, I followed my grandmother through the stand as we headed for the stairs. She took the stairs in front of me and I followed after her, searching the crowd to see if I could get another glimpse of James whilst we were still up high. I didn't see him. Instead, my eyes settled on David and I did a double-take.
He was like a blast from the past as he walked, hand in hand, with a wizard down the stairs. His smile was far larger than any I'd seen from him before. Likely feeling my eyes on him, he met my gaze and offered me a smile and a nod of acknowledgement which I returned. In that short moment of held eye contact, I remembered our first real conversation where he'd sought me out after the engagement had broken. He'd thanked me then, embracing me close and thanking me wholeheartedly for being brave enough to speak up and allowing him to live his truth. At that time I didn't know what he meant, but now I did.
I continued to follow my grandmother down to the bottom of the stands and when we reached the ground, I prepared to lead her to the pavilion that had been set up to hold the friends and family of the players until they joined us. But, before I could, my grandmother halted me.
"Grandma?"
"I can take myself," she insisted firmly. When I was unconvinced, she reminded me, "I'm an extremely capable witch. I can look after myself."
"Even still-"
"I'll look after myself and you can go and shower your man with some love, how about that?" She gestured pointedly behind me and I glanced over my shoulder to where James stood with his teammates, addressing the reporters who crowded around them. "Off you go, I'll see you in a bit."
Before I could protest that I could see James after I'd made sure she got to the pavilion just fine, my grandmother disappeared into the crowd with a pointed look. Left to my own devices, I turned to watch James as he and his team answered all the questions that were asked of him. My appreciative eyes raked unashamed over him and I couldn't help but wonder how I'd managed to convince him to fancy me, let alone to love me.
When the interviews came to an end, James prepared to join his teammates on their trek back to the changing room. And he would have done had he not seen me waiting. Spying me, he changed his direction and walked towards me. I approached home with quick steps, meeting him halfway and launching myself into his arms, not caring that he was still in his uniform. James's arms, strong and solid, wrapped around my waist, hauling me into his broad chest and lifting me off my feet, just a little. Pressing his forehead to mine, James dropped a quick peck onto my lips, before lowering my feet down again.
"Hi," he said with a soft smile, paying absolutely no heed to the cameras that were madly clicking pictures of us.
I'd long since perfected the art of blocking out the reporters and just stared right into James's beautiful eyes. With my arms still wrapped around his neck, I repeated, "Hi."
"Did you enjoy the game? When you weren't babysitting grandma?"
"I didn't pay much attention to the game," I confessed, with a grin. "I was too busy watching my husband."
"I thought I was supposed to be the sweet one," he protested without any heat, drawing me towards him for another kiss.
The cameras went crazy again and I could just see the next article that would be printed. It would be some rubbish about the quidditch player and his charitable wife, the lovebird media sweethearts.
____________________
As always, let me know what you thought. I have no idea why this one spiralled so out of control and ended up being so long, but here it is.
The next one shot will be up on the 27th and here are the hints:
* only son
* intelligent
* In my 'canon' I've made him a head boy