the girlfriend experience, james potter
𝒔𝒆𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟕
chapter fifteen, BIRTHDAYS AND BOYFRIENDS
✧ ━━━ · ✦ · ━━━ ✧
TUESDAY. THE 26TH OF SEPTEMBER. Bronwyn's eighteenth birthday.
James had always seen Bronwyn's birthday as a means for amusement in the past. A day dedicated to humiliating her in every way he could think of because all the attention was supposed to be on her and he knew her far too well to waste the opportunity to bring up embarrassing memories from their childhood.
But today was different. He felt that a lot was riding on this particular birthday. Not only was it her eighteenth (even though turning seventeen is more important in the Wizarding World), granting her the legal ability to drink alcohol and vote in funny Muggle elections, but he was supposed to be her boyfriend. And he needed to pay extra care and attention in preparation for the day it's his real girlfriend's birthday (he is confident this will be Lily Evans, of course).
But for James' roommates, Sirius, Remus and Peter, Tuesday the 26th of September meant absolutely nothing to them. In fact, they were hardly happy because it was pie day at dinner.
"Weather's supposed to be good today so we were thinking about a swim in the Black Lake at lunch?" Sirius said as he stood in the mirror, taking minimal care at tying his tie.
James was waiting for something like this to happen. For his friends to make plans that he couldn't attend. More specifically, for Sirius to make plans. And James was done defending his actions; he was still waiting for Sirius to grow up.
"Can we do that after school?" James asked simply, bending over to tie his shoe and also to check on the present and baked goods hidden under his bed. The dessert hadn't been there very long at all but his paranoid mind needed to confirm rats hadn't infested his room and that he will still do right by Bronwyn.
"Sun goes down early," Remus shrugged, a toothbrush hanging loosely in his mouth. "It's better at lunch anyway, means we can take food down there too."
James kept his head bowed to the floor as he spoke. "I'm busy at lunch."
"With what, homework?" Sirius scoffed as if the idea was completely absurd.
James said the first thing that he believed wouldn't arouse too much suspicion. "Quidditch practice."
"You only ever practice after school?" Peter questioned, although, in his defence, Peter didn't sound half as accusatory as Sirius would say those words. He meant well. Even when James' prediction of no suspicion came up very wrong.
Standing up, James took his robe off of a post on his bed, trying his best to stay as casual as possible. "Thought a change in routine would be good for us."
Sirius threw some doubtful looks in James' direction, but that was about it. Soon the topic of conversation had drifted off in the direction of mundane town gossip and James started to think he was in the okay for now.
However, as they headed down, through the Gryffindor common room, and towards the Great Hall for breakfast, Remus hung back at the rear end of the group and leant over discreetly to ask James, "You don't have practice at lunch, do you?"
James knew Remus didn't care an awful lot about what he got up to when he wasn't in their company. He also knew Remus agreed with him that Sirius was an immature child that had some growing up to do and some independence to find.
"Nope."
"You're with Bronwyn then aren't you?"
"Yup."
"I won't tell Sirius."
"Thanks, mate."
Down below them, underneath the layers of concrete that grounded the castle, Bronwyn Ward was revelling in her first few awake hours of being eighteen years old.
The Slytherin Quidditch team had made her a banner that they hung right in the middle of the common room, and as much as she appreciated the gesture, she couldn't help but voice her concerns that her name was now on display for everyone to see. Regulus said he had no part in it, deciding to pass over his gift to Bronwyn in a more subtle way. But he did tell her, their teammates' reason for such an extravagant way to say happy birthday was because "she's the Quidditch captain ─ the younger years love her". Bronwyn smiled gratefully and said her thank yous before kickstarting the day ahead.
Because, as much as she loved being a Slytherin, sometimes the dungeons weren't always the cheeriest of places to be and so she and Andromeda decided to head off for an early breakfast, away from the familiar setting and the colour green.
"So tell me," Andromeda cooed as they strolled their way up the steps towards the Great Hall, post-birthday chocolate frogs and opening presents. Andromeda looped her arm through Bronwyn's and the two of them walked in lockstep along the corridor, a few of their classmates wishing her a happy birthday as they went. "What does it feel like to be a legal adult?"
Bronwyn thought about it for a moment ─ what was the best word to describe the immense feeling of being the big one-eight? "Enlightening," she said wistfully.
"I bet," Andromeda said. She had never been one for celebrating birthdays ─ much like Bronwyn ─ and her family didn't exactly get excited for her. But the prospect of turning eighteen did motivate her because it meant she was one step closer to starting her own life.
"Wanna sneak off to the Three Broomsticks later and get wasted because you can legally get served?"
"Is that even a question?" Bronwyn had a free schedule for the evening: no homework, no Quidditch practice ─ getting drunk with her friends (even if it's not legal for them) when they were not supposed to on a school night sounded just like what she needed.
Andromeda sighed dreamily as the smells of crispy bacon and salty mushrooms washed over them. "I love us being best friends."
Looking over at her friend, Bronwyn squeezed Andromeda's arm. "Ah me too."
Greeted by a few smiles, the pair settled at their table, which was sparse and ample with space, making for a peaceful atmosphere, something usually rare in such a cavernous hall.
Just as she was reaching over for the serving spoon for the scrambled eggs, ─ a birthday speciality, and her favourite way to cook an egg (no other opinions will be heard) ─ out of nowhere, Andromeda swatted her arm away, causing Bronwyn to flinch and pull her arm back inwards.
Andromeda hurried to explain the sudden and brash action as Bronwyn stared at her with a blank expression. "You can't eat anything. Yet."
However, Andromeda's explanation didn't do much to clear up Bronwyn's dumbfounded look. "I'm sorry is there a new fasting-on-your-birthday rule I don't know about?"
Feeling a little bad that she couldn't say anything more, Andromeda winced and said: "I was told to make sure you didn't eat anything for breakfast."
"By who," Bronwyn asked disbelieving, "God?"
"You can call me God if you want to."
The arrogant tone of voice was enough indication to inform Bronwyn who was behind Andromeda's unusual behaviour. In fact: "I should've guessed that, to be honest."
James' involvement in something Bronwyn's-birthday oriented should've been predicted and yet she didn't see it coming at first when she turned around to see the boy with a self-satisfied look on his face, arms folded across his chest, one leg crossed in front of the other, as if his genius plan had already worked out perfectly.
"Happy birthday, Bronwyn," he gushed, taking a seat next to her, seeing as the Slytherin table was still looking quite empty. "This is officially the eighteenth time you have been blessed with my presence on your birthday."
Bronwyn squinted her eyes questioningly. "You mean seventeenth? You weren't alive when I was born."
"Technically," he sang, "I was in the womb. And then my mum visited your mum after your birth and I was in my mum so I was more or less there on the day of your birth." James finished his ramble with a wide smile before speaking again with hopes it would clear off the blank stares he was receiving. "In essence."
"Right."
There was a moment pause and Bronwyn's ears were bombarded with the clattering of cutlery and the garish chatter from the room. "Well, it is still terrifying to think I've known you for eighteen years."
"And what a blissful eighteen years it has been, ey?" James joking punched Bronwyn on the shoulder but all she could offer him in return was a sarcastic smile and brief doubt regarding how she was supposed to manage lunch with James when he was here with her for breakfast too. Which she didn't ask for.
But he seemed to be here for a reason which she had an inkling was going to be yet another embarrassing one, like the many he has done before on her previous birthdays.
"Anyway," he finally said, "I told Andromeda not to let you eat anything before I got here because . . ."
As the concern kicked in, James summoned the treat from under his bed with a whispered spell. It appeared in his hands, after which he carefully placed it onto the plate before Bronwyn.
"I wanted to bring you breakfast."
Where her scrambled egg should have been was now a round cake, slathered in thick white buttercream, decorated with a scattering of colourful sprinkles. It was obviously home-baked, the spikes of frosting indicated a lack of professionalism. And so begged the question: when on earth did James make this?
Bronwyn turned to look at him, brows furrowed, curious as to what his reasoning was. "Cake?" James nodded, smiling profusely, a mix of giddy excitement, and pride. Then it made sense. "This isn't a prank, is it?" She sighed, more than bored of James' birthday antics.
"No, it's not, I promise," James insisted, before then adorning a thoughtful look and saying. "Would've been the perfect opportunity though. But no, it's not." He noticed how she still seemed a little muddled and so smiled again and said: "It's like when we were kids, remember?"
James' true intentions clicked in her mind and she was reminded of a time when the Wards and the Potters would gather together for their children's birthdays, whether that be at a party or a restaurant of their choosing when Bronwyn and James would always ask their parents for cake for breakfast. Since she joined Hogwarts, because of how her birthday is during term time, Bronwyn hasn't had cake for breakfast on her birthday in eight years.
Until now.
Smiling tenderly, Bronwyn nodded at James, overwhelmed with all the fuzzy nostalgia warming her insides. "I remember."
"It's red velvet too."
Her eyebrows perked up. "It is?"
James nodded once more. He liked how surprised she seemed. That meant she liked it. Because she would hardly expect James to come up with something so sentimental for her birthday that is not only absolutely delicious (James knows, he ate about half the batter), but also proves that he is shaping up to be a great future boyfriend.
"You know," he then said, a smirk sliding onto his face, "because of how much you love the colour red."
She instantly knew he was just trying to mess with her. Bronwyn hated the colour red ─ it was the colour of her enemy's house and her biggest rival for the Quidditch cup. She knew he was joking because James had never forgotten how red velvet was her favourite. That's why the cake is red. Because he knows her. And all too well at that.
Fighting off the urge to laugh, Bronwyn shoved James in the side, "Oh shut up you."
Her focus then returned to the cake. That's when she realised that her focus had shifted since the cake was presented ─ it had shifted solely onto James.
Distracting herself, she dipped a finger in a pool of buttercream that had gathered at the rim of the cake, where it met the board. She lifted it to her mouth, licking it off of her finger for an initial taste test. She wasn't sold just yet ─ it could be dog food, for all she knows.
But as she tasted the substance from her finger, and took a moment to let the flavour settle on her tongue, something immediately stood out to her. "It's not cream cheese frosting?"
James shrugged almost innocently. He knew why he didn't ice the cake with the traditional flavoured cream used for red velvet. "You hate cheese," he said simply.
That she did. James must have taken note of all the times she had turned down pizza and carbonara pasta. And of all the times she requested her favourite flavour of cake was made without the cream cheese in the frosting.
Trying not to enjoy this simple moment of reminiscence, Bronwyn smiled back and said plainly: "I do hate cheese."
"Oh dear God, she's smiling."
Bronwyn had forgotten that her best friend was still sitting on the other side of her, easily listening in on the overly cheesy (pun not intended) conversation she was having with James. But most importantly, Bronwyn hadn't realised she had been smiling evidently, the entire time.
Shaking herself out of that horrible realisation that felt a lot like a fondness for James Potter, Bronwyn instantly lost the smile and said sarcastically: "Well, congratulations, Potter. I see a light at the end of this tunnel."
She didn't have to say thank you. Despite the teasing and joking tone, James could still see it in the way her eyes softened at the edges and the way her lips curled into a genuine smile. She was thankful, he could tell.
"Told you," he grinned pompously, bumping her side with his arm making her sway a little so the side, "I'm already the best boyfriend ever."
"You two are dating?"
The Great Hall had become very busy very quickly, and the vacant spots on the benches surrounding them were beginning to fill up. Bronwyn almost didn't hear the question from a familiar voice opposite them over all of the chaotic, early-morning noise.
It turns out that Severus Snape had ears like a hawk and was now staring creepily in their direction with an interrogating look on his ugly face.
Bronwyn wondered how he must have heard and/or why he cared enough to absorb the information and then follow up on it by questioning them. Then again, she probably should've guessed that James' bolshy and loud behaviour made them slightly less inconspicuous as a couple than her previous clients.
Her mouth opened to answer but where her voice should have answered the Slytherin boy a few people down from them, she heard James' conceited voice speak for her. "That's right, Snivellus," he said, fixing his posture and posing his demeanour in a way that he felt made him look tougher. "Got a problem with that?"
Snape looked James up and down before moving on to Bronwyn, a distasteful grimace planted on his face. He returned his attention to the Gryffindor and said, "Couldn't care less, Potter."
With Andromeda preoccupied with their housemates, Bronwyn brought her voice to a lower volume, making sure this conversation was just between her and James this time. "Interesting approach considering we're not dating?"
"He might tell Lily," James said in a sort of timid tone as if his reason was perfectly plausible.
"The girl you want to date?"
James spared her a punctuated nod. "Correct."
Holding in her sigh, Bronwyn rolled her eyes quickly, thinking back to the time that they had already gone over exactly this. "And you think it will benefit you if she thinks you have a girlfriend?"
"Yes." He had clearly not remembered what she had told him before.
"James," Bronwyn groaned, "we spoke about this."
James sort of winced, having a feeling Bronwyn was probably right and that he just wasn't paying enough attention. "We did?"
She pursed her lips into a single line, raising her eyebrows judgementally. "You're not going to get very far as a good student if you don't listen."
James scoffed, clearly hurt despite it being his wrongdoing. "Way to knock my confidence."
"Then maybe pay attention to what I'm telling you?" She said exasperated by his neglect of her advice. "Making a girl jealous isn't going to make her head over heels for you, that's not how this works. And who's to tell that'd she be jealous anyway? She's not in love with you yet, Potter."
As Bronwyn went to retrieve a knife to cut her cake, she didn't quite notice the massive smirk creeping up his face. "You said yet," he pointed at her, determined to get her to compliment him again. "You have faith in me."
"No, I have faith in me," she smiled sarcastically. "To save you from your impending doom of terrible boyfriendhood," she said, as she poised the knife at the centre of the cake (she wanted it cut and served as quickly as possible to save her the embarrassment of her friends singing for the entire school).
"That's not nice."
"At least you have a nice face."
James seemed to immediately forget all of her previous insults (her exact aim), purely to make room for his groundbreakingly nice one. "Thanks, Bronwyn," he smiled. "So do you."
"Flattery's good," she said, lifting the frosting-covered knife to make a point, "keep that up. Especially since it's my birthday."
The pair shared another moment of revealing their dimples before James hopped up from his seat and said, "Okay well, I'm gonna go before Sirius murders me, so see you at lunch?"
"Is that when I get a present?"
"It is indeed."
"Looking forward to it, James."
He rarely heard the word James coming from Bronwyn's mouth unless it was followed by Potter. He was doing something right. Ah, the sweet smell of progress.
✧
"NOT GOING TO HAPPEN."
"What?" James cried like a baby. "Why?"
"Why would I?"
"Because I deserve it."
In all the years that Bronwyn had been forced to spend her birthdays with James Potter against her will, she would never have predicted willingly spending time with him on her eighteenth, just the two of them. In fact, she probably would have laughed. In your face.
But she didn't mind it at all actually. After a series of hilarious mishaps where she and Andromeda had decided to mess about as much as possible during their Potions lesson last period (because it was her birthday and Bronwyn firmly believed she shouldn't be made to do work), Andromeda landed herself in detention after pleading Bronwyn's innocence. And so, where Bronwyn was planning to have a normal lunch with her housemates, she thought that, without Andromeda there, why not change her plans completely?
As it was lunchtime, the Astronomy tower was empty, untouched since the last lessons at midnight earlier that day and it seemed like the perfect spot to escape the rowdiness of the castle.
The mountains peaked high, and from a height such as this, it felt as though they could reach out and touch them. The highlands were like a woven tapestry of nature's hues, the backdrop to undisturbed tranquillity. The noise from the castle below them was a mere scratchy fuzz and it was like all sound put together stopped at the door at the top of the Astronomy tower.
Planning to finish the rest of the cake James baked, alongside some snacks they nicked from the feast downstairs, Bronwyn and James settled on the wooden planks by the railing, breathing in the fresh September air pretending the rest of the world ceased to exist.
The matter of James' cake was still being discussed.
"Fine," Bronwyn caved in. "I admit it," she said, causing James to smile victoriously. "Your cake-"
"Homemade cake," James added, just so the two of them could be one hundred percent clear on the effort that went into the sugary sweetness in between them.
"Your homemade cake," Bronwyn complied with his wish to acknowledge that part about the dessert, "is delicious. You should be very proud of your baking skills. I see they have vastly improved since the many batches of blondies you seemed to have enjoyed burning back in the day."
"You and I both know I would never intentionally burn such delicious entities. That was simply seven-year-old me's tragic mistake," James said before pausing to rethink his words. "Or rather, mistakes."
Bronwyn smiled, her eyes lifting as a laugh tickled her throat. James may have been an immature child when they were growing up alongside each other ─ still is ─ but he did make for some good memories.
"Anyway, let's not dwell on my terrible baking past, but rather focus on how amazing my cake is. So thank you, Bronwyn. Your admittance means a lot. And now that's out of the way," he sing-songed, turning his back to retrieve something that was placed behind him, "wait till you get to sing my praises further, Miss Ward."
"Is this the main event?"
"Oh yes, it is."
A second later, James presented her with a soft, rectangular-like shaped present, the wrapping similar to the frosting of the cake from earlier ─ messy but clearly loved.
Bronwyn ripped the paper from the corners, breaking through the seals to reveal a sky-blue jumper. Although upon further inspection, Bronwyn lifted it up to see it unfolded, she could see that it was a jersey, decorated with navy seams and the Tutshill Tornados double T badge. The number six was on the back, and a little black scribble rested underneath it.
Bronwyn squinted her eyes, to make out the words. Her body then slumped over, the jersey relaxing onto her lap, her shoulders sagging and her eyes wide. "No way. Is this real?" She asked James, her eyes glued to the jumper.
James nodded, letting himself smile giddily since she had worked it out. He wasn't even thinking about his three closest friends having fun splashing about in the Black Lake right now. He was having his own fun.
The scribble wasn't quite just a scribble. But it was an autograph. One James insists is real. And it was. The signature read Roderick Plumpton.
"How did you get this?" Bronwyn asked dumbfounded. A signed jersey isn't easy to come by, especially not when you're James Potter and can't seem to be bothered to put much effort into anything that isn't Quidditch or pranking his classmates.
"I wrote him a letter," James replied. "I actually wrote him quite a few letters. He probably hates me but it got me that so who cares, right?"
James had actually had this planned for a while. Not that he thought about Bronwyn's birthday for extensive periods, but he had gotten the idea from his dad who had gotten Mr Ward, Bronwyn's dad, a signed pair of gloves from Merwyn Finwick, the team's keeper. Bronwyn had been amazed by the gift and James decided to lock the idea away. He'd get brownie points from his mum if she knew how much effort he had put into Bronwyn's present. No other reason he would put that much effort into a present.
"You got Roderick Plumpton to hate you? That's quite a sacrifice."
"As long as you praise me to your parents," he shrugged nonchalantly, "it's all good."
"Consider it done," she smirked back. Bronwyn couldn't quite believe what she was holding and the worth that it held with it. All she seemed to be able to say was: "Thank you, James."
By the time they had stuffed their faces with enough food for the rest of the week, lunchtime was drawing to a close and Bronwyn was looking forward to spending her free period in the most useless ways possible.
The two of them sat in comfortable silence. Nothing to disturb them, a vast, beautiful landscape stretched out in front of them, feeling so far from everything else that why bother even moving?
But they both knew they had to ─ despite James looking as though he could just drift off right about now ─ and Bronwyn had plans. Plans she now realised James could help with.
"James?"
The boy seemed to be in his own little world, his eyes absently wandering as if hadn't one single care at all. His hair was ruffled against the breeze. "Mm mhm?"
"Can I ask you a favour but you have to say yes because it's my birthday?" She cocked her head to the side, smiling cheekily because she had a feeling that would almost be enough convincing for him to agree to what she wanted.
His lips rolled inwards and he said, "Depends what it is."
"That's not the right answer."
His eyes narrowed onto hers, but even then, Bronwyn could make out the hint of a smile on his face. "Can I borrow that invisibility cloak of yours?" She asked.
James gasped dramatically as if the request was shocking. "Whatever for?"
"Few of us thought we'd sneak off to the Three Broomsticks," Bronwyn shrugged. "Buy some drinks. I'm paying."
His eyes seemed to shrink even smaller as he deliberated over the proposal. Finally, he said, "Only if I can come."
"Deal," Bronwyn said plainly. It didn't seem like too much of a bother. She may not be that fond of him, but James was friendly with the people she had spread this secret word with and he hadn't been that much of a nuisance as of late. And she felt like she owed him something after this amazing present.
She even surprised herself when she offered to expand the deal on her side. "And you can bring your weird little clan if you'd like."
"Not weird. Not little," James argued, before pausing, considering if he was willing to leave his precious cloak in Bronwyn's protection.
But that almost didn't matter. He knew that if Sirius learned that James had gotten them invited to a small party at a pub, the alcoholic drinks already paid for, Sirius wouldn't have any problem with the fact it was Bronwyn's party. He may even forget the Bronwyn problem altogether.
He let out a breath of air and agreed with the obvious choice. "But okay, we'll be there."
———————————————