the girlfriend experience, james potter
𝒔𝒆𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟕
chapter thirteen, FIRST DATES AND COMPLIMENTS
✧ ━━━ · ✦ · ━━━ ✧
"YOU'RE LATE."
"It's been thirty seconds."
"Thirty seconds late."
The west wing courtyard was bustling with students now that the school day was over. Cheery chatter floated alongside the waving robes as pupils hurried off to common rooms and Quidditch practices. Bronwyn was waiting for James on a wooden bench, one leg crossed over the other. He now stood in front of her, eyes narrowed, blocking the blaring September sun from her view.
"I'm not sure we ever actually set an exact time?" James cocked one head to the side as he stared down at the composed Slytherin, his hands behind his back.
Bronwyn pushed off from the bench, causing James to stumble backwards to give her room. "I said meet me here after fifth," she said. "Which ended thirty seconds ago."
"I had-"
James' mouth merely hung open as Bronwyn finished for him with a tilted head. "A free period?"
James straightened up as he gave a different answer, grateful to prove her wrong. "To go to the toilet."
"You should have left time for your urinating. This is serious business, as you well know," she said, causing James to nod his head frantically just to make sure she didn't get any other ideas.
An awkward silence prevailed as James' eyes wandered to the basket that sat underneath the bench and Bronwyn focused on the way his arms were disappearing behind his back.
Shaking her head to clear it, Bronwyn put on a bright face. "Nevermind that. Let's get to it."
Just as she was ducking down to retrieve the basket from the floor, James finally revealed why his hands had been swallowed by his behind. "Oh, these are for you."
When Bronwyn stood up straight, she was met with a bouquet of flowers shoved in her face, James hidden by the chaotic array of colours.
She fumbled her way around the brown paper packaging and found his arm, which she then pushed down so she would feel less suffocated by the arrangement of flowers. "What is that?" She asked, her head tilting to his supposed gift.
James folded his lips inwards and gave her a look of mocking disappointment. "Your ego is far too large for a girl that can't even identify a bouquet of flowers, Bronwyn."
Bronwyn breathed in but didn't let it out until she had spoken, in hopes of not coming across like an ungrateful bitch. "No, I mean, why have you got them?"
James didn't quite understand her question. "Because this is our first date and I need to make a good first impression to be the best student I can be?"
Bronwyn froze. James didn't understand this either. Until he did. Until he noticed how her shoulders slightly caved in and how she had transferred her weight onto her other leg showing visible distress. Her forehead even creased a little.
"Oh my God."
She seemed to be pulled out of a gaze very suddenly, her eyes snapping to meet his where she immediately took note of the mischievous glint to them. "No," Bronwyn asserted.
"Oh my God," he repeated.
"Whatever you're thinking, no."
James' shoulders sagged too, but not in the same nervous demeanour that Bronwyn's just had. A grin began to show on his face. "I just pleasantly surprised you, didn't I?"
"Nothing can ever be pleasant when it's about you."
"Don't tell me flowers on the first date aren't a regular thing for your students, Ward."
Bronwyn has to admit ─ this is the first time someone has brought her flowers on their first date of the week.
Her face became strained, as she desperately tried to make her aura seem more relaxed than she was actually feeling. She lifted her chin awkwardly.
"Well then," James beamed, her body language confirming what he had suspected. "Guess this," he deliberately held the flowers higher so that the petals tickled her chin, "makes me your best student so far."
She pressed against his arm again to move them from her line of vision. "All of my students start at rock bottom," she said, her usual blunt expression returning. "I don't expect flowers or anything mildly good about their dating game at the start of the week."
Bronwyn manoeuvred the basket so that it rested in the crook of her elbow, motioning for James to follow her out of the courtyard and towards the greenhouses.
"I think you just complimented me."
Bronwyn blew a stray strand of hair out of her face with a huff, her back currently to him. "Oh heaven forbid."
"You did," James said, falling into a light skip as they entered the open stone corridor. "You said this makes me mildly good. Pretty sure good is a positive adjective, Bronwyn."
"You still need serious help."
James scampered faster so that he could stop her in her tracks so she could see his cheery shrug. "Nothing you can't fix, right?"
✧
BRONWYN LIKED TO CHANGE UP HER FIRST dates every now and then. She planned so many of them that often she got bored of going to the same place every single time. The only thing different about her date with James, however, is how much care she had put into it.
It sounds absolutely mad but Bronwyn has her reasons.
For the next week, James is paying her real money. For her advice, for her company. And, just like with every other client, Bronwyn has to be good at that. The difference with James Potter is she has to be extra good at that. Because it takes a lot more effort to smile and be pleasant with James Potter around than any other human being on planet Earth.
She's trying extra hard. Just don't tell him that.
Instead of taking James to a café, or to the Astronomy tower, Bronwyn made sure the weather was just right and decided to prepare a picnic for them to enjoy on the grounds of Hogwarts.
The breeze wasn't too cold, and the sun wasn't yet showing signs of disappearing anytime soon, warming the air just right. Bronwyn led James down the hilly landscape of the castle's greens, basket in hand, a nearly cloudless sky blessing them overhead.
"There wouldn't be effort inside that basket, would there, Bronwyn?" James asked as he trailed along behind her down the stone steps out by the greenhouses.
"You didn't think I wasn't going to try, did you, James?" Bronwyn questioned sceptically, slowing down so that he could walk beside her. "You're my client, this is my job. I do take it seriously you know."
James lifted his chin impressed. Bronwyn noticed it out of the corner of her eye but opted not to say anything.
After a moment, Bronwyn's selected picnic spot in sight, James spoke up. "Okay then," he said, "I have a question."
"Go on."
"This is supposed to allow you to judge my dateability right?" James skipped down the final step, hopping so he landed directly next to her, their shoulders brushing.
"Hm mhm." Bronwyn placed the basket down on a large, semi-flat patch of grass, the forest standing tall and eerily beautiful before them, while the Hogwarts castle loomed gracefully, basking in the late afternoon sun.
James watched as she focused on laying out a classic red and white gingham blanket perfectly flat, her back to him. "But you hate me?"
Bronwyn let out a long breath of air as she stood to face him, happy with how the blanket lay. "What an intellectual observation, James."
James wiggled his brows quizzically as Bronwyn slipped off her robes and perched carefully down onto the blanket's surface. She waited for him to be seated in front of her, his legs sprawled out in front of him, leaning back on his elbows making sure the sun wasn't in his eyes before she carried on.
"I see where you're coming from which is why I am going to ignore any previous feelings I have towards you and approach this like any other client, like the professional I am. Hence the picnic."
James cocked his head to the side where he was blinded by a ray of sunshine from where one of the castle's turrets no longer protected him. He squinted his eyes in a struggle. "You sure you're completely okay with forgetting how much you enjoyed drowning me in the bath when we were kids?"
Even with the blaring light framing his face, she could see how his mouth tilted in a smirk. And she did the same. "Oh what good times," she sighed dreamily, soaking in the memories. "But yes, consider those fond memories forgotten."
Bronwyn then hastily added: "Temporarily, at least."
That way James was aware that what he was asking for was near impossible ─ from a young age, Bronwyn had always been aware that torturing James Potter was a wonderful hobby.
"I'm not the virgin Mary."
✧
IT'S A STRANGE THOUGHT TO THINK BUT Bronwyn Ward was on a date with James Potter ─ context is obviously needed here ─ and it wasn't going bad at all.
An hour in, the sun was beginning to sink beneath the horizon, the sky a darker shade of blue than it was earlier. But in the September spirit, it was yet to be dark, and the tea in the tin flask was still warm.
"Did you see the result last week? For the Tornados?" James was rummaging in the picnic basket looking for the cupcakes Bronwyn had packed for dessert.
James had concluded before this date that it would be best for Bronwyn's final evaluation that he start the conversations at all times as best he could. And Quidditch seemed like a safe bet. Not to mention that Bronwyn was the only other person he knew in their year ─ or school come to think of it ─ that supported the same team as him. Then again, there's probably good reason for that considering the Tutshill Tornados weren't having the best season. Or seasons for that matter.
Bronwyn threw her head back in a groan. "Abysmal, right?"
Saturday was not a good day to be a Tornados fan. Bronwyn was very glad that she was at school and therefore had to miss out on buying tickets.
James sighed wistfully at the thought of his team doing so badly and at the fact that he didn't have a choice but to support them because his dad felt very strongly about loyalty when it came to the Tornados. "They'll get there in the end."
This Bronwyn was convinced she was going to use as her claim to fame in the near future. It's a known fact in Quidditch to never underestimate a team because players come and go so frequently. And so she was glad that her father got her to support his team, the Tutshill Tornados, from an early age because, they may not be the best in the league at the moment, but Roderick Plumpton made too much of a mark on the sport for the Tornados not to make history in the future.
And she will be able to say she was a fan from the beginning.
"I find it hard to believe we struggle to be civil with each other and yet support the same Quidditch team," James pointed out as he watched the clouds morph into various shapes above his head.
Bronwyn followed his eye line and became fixated on one particular collection of clouds that looked vaguely like a pineapple. "We have our dads to blame for that," she said into the sky.
"Maybe," James said, turning to look at the girl whose gaze remained on the blue canvas hanging over them. "Or you just can't admit that somewhere deep inside your black heart, we think alike sometimes."
Bronwyn turned to look at him. "Unlikely," she shrugged tossing a cocktail sausage into her mouth.
"Have you ever tried the Plumpton Pass in training?" James asked as he began picking the best grapes off of the branch he had selected from the basket, keeping on the topic of Quidditch and their shared team.
Bronwyn gave a haughty laugh while she buttered a cracker and leant forward for the cheese. "No one tries the Plumpton Pass," she said. "You either do it first try, or you're not worthy of the greatness that is Roderick Plumpton."
Roderick Plumpton was the best player the Tutshill team had ever seen. That was about the only thing that Bronwyn Ward and James Potter could ever agree on. Probably because their dads drilled it into their brains since they were conceived.
James squinted his eyes from the sun again, pointing at her with a grape from his hand. "You make a fair point," he said. "Which is why I propose a bet."
Bronwyn took a bite from her cracker, crossing her legs to face him as she did. "Go on."
"The first one of us to successfully perform the Plumpton Pass receives tickets to the Tornados' next match from the loser."
Bronwyn already knew it was near impossible. She had tried it before and failed. It was a move in which the Seeker would casually scoop the Snitch up in their sleeve, thus winning the match (most likely at least). She tried it in a training match once before and it was safe to say it didn't go well. The only way she got away with failing her team was because she was the Captain.
But even if she knew it was difficult and almost unachievable, the fact that the bet came from James' mouth meant she was going to try her bloody best to do it.
"Oh, done deal."
James still had a grape in his mouth when he spoke. "Cocky?"
"I'm only up against you," Bronwyn said with her mouth turned up as if feeling threatened by James' abilities was an absurd thought. "I'm most certainly cocky."
A short moment of lull settled over them. A peaceful silence filled with the fluttering of leaves in the breeze and relishing in the sun's final hours. And it was comfortable. The sweet aromas of Bronwyn's picnic, courtesy of the Hogwarts Kitchen elves, and the fresh dewy smell of the forest and the summer grass. It seemed pleasant.
And in that time, James had been studying Bronwyn ─ she had also been studying him of course ─ and the way she didn't move her hair out of her eyes when the wind blew it across her face. And how relaxed she seemed when in the sunshine compared to her proactive, hardworking usual self.
"I see a bit of Plumpton in you." James finally broke the silence with a thought he'd been considering for a while.
He didn't mean it as she looked like Roderick Plumpton. He had seen her on a broom enough times by now to make the conclusion that she was a slick seeker just like he was.
And so James meant what he said. Roderick Plumpton was known for his effortlessness on a broom and as much as he hated to admit it, Bronwyn was a damn good flyer. James admired that about her. He always had. Ever since they learned to fly a broom together in his back garden in the countryside, their fathers by their sides and their mothers standing fondly on the decking. And Bronwyn knew she was good too, but with less of an excessively inflamed ego and more with subtle pride. Just like Roddy.
Bronwyn got a tiny inkling that she knew that James wasn't referring to appearance, but that he was in fact, complimenting her.
"I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me, James."
"You're very welcome."
They held each other's gaze long enough for it to be sweet but also long enough for them both to feel awkward.
To iron out any lasting tension he believed to still be present, James snapped off the last grape from the branch and angled it behind his head, ready to throw right at her.
"We're not doing this," Bronwyn deadpanned once she had realised what he was intending on doing.
"And why not?"
Bronwyn dropped her chin to give him a look as if to say really before replying with raised brows, "I'm not going to sit here with my mouth hanging open just so you can throw fruit at me and miss."
"Fine then," James said before swinging his legs around and sitting on his knees. He leant over the basket, pulled at her arm from where it was resting on her legs, and placed the single grape into her open hand. "You throw and I'll be the idiot with their mouth hanging open."
Fighting the urge to smirk, Bronwyn rolled the grape around in her hand, nodded her head and watched as James took his position on the blanket opposite her. With his hands on his knees, and his neck tilted back, James did indeed look like an idiot with his mouth agape.
That was until Bronwyn delivered a beautiful throw ─ it's the chaser in her ─ and it landed perfectly on the floor of his tongue.
James threw his hands in the air in a celebratory cheer, chewing on his newly acquired grape, as Bronwyn watched on amused, an unexpected, and yet natural laugh tumbling out of her mouth.
It took them a few seconds of chuckling and smiling to realise what had happened.
When they did, Bronwyn's mouth sealed itself shut and James fell back onto his heels, swallowed the grape finally and dulled his features.
"Oh, fuck me, what was that?" She asked.
"I think we may have just laughed," James said, his face stunned with stillness. He paused before uttering, almost in a whisper. "With each other."
James continued to watch her baffled as she began looking around her, her head darting from one side to the next. She even twisted her whole body around to check the area behind her.
"What are you doing?" He finally asked.
Seemingly satisfied with her search, Bronwyn returned to facing him and said, "Just making sure the world isn't crumbling down around us."
James tried to suppress his smirk. It was often she made him laugh. He bobbed his head in deliberation, "I think we're good."
The sky painted itself orange with time like an overhanging blanket and soon the sun was dripping its last beams of light of the day. Bronwyn and James had almost lost track of time.
It wasn't until darkness encompassed them and the food was all gone and the golden radiance from the castle's windows was the only light they could see, a nipping chill starting to pick at their skin that they realised it was probably best that they headed back inside.
Dinner was soon and they had both almost forgotten that they'd both be dining together at the Slytherin table. And for once, Bronwyn wasn't worried about James ruining it, but instead was concerned that her own friends would be the issue.
James offered to carry the basket on the walk back up to the castle ─ a nicer offer than it actually was considering it was now basically empty ─ while Bronwyn carried the dusty blanket.
"So how'd I do?" James asked as they battled the grassy stone steps towards the entranceway.
Bronwyn was pleasantly surprised to see that James wasn't smirking at all. He didn't seem self-righteous about how the date went, but rather, genuinely attentive to what she thought of him. Bronwyn got her first sign that Lily Evans did really mean a lot to James Potter.
Her mouth twitched at one side into a smile. "I still need to evaluate you tonight at dinner and then collaborate it all into one final assessment at the end of the day."
"When will I get that?"
"You'll get parts of it tomorrow."
"And for now?" He asked, their feet scuffing against the cobblestone of the castle's floor, an open evening landscape laid out to their side. They came to a standstill. "What can I know for now?"
"You know what James?" Bronwyn said and James became hopeful at the non-mocking look on her face, which was illuminated by the dim glow of the speckled stars. "You weren't bad. You weren't bad at all."
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