EARLY WHISPERS OF December echoed in the air, painting the grounds of Hogwarts in delicate hues of frost and silver. Isla fell back on her bed, soft parchment brushing her fingers. She'd unfolded and refolded the paper so many times that the ink had started to fade into the creases.
'Do we have to bring a date?' she whined, looking up at Lily.
Her friend shrugged. 'It's not an obligation - I probably won't.' She turned to meet Isla's gaze, a flash of ginger hair spilling over her shoulders like a crimson flame. 'But if I would if I were you.'
A frown tugged at the corner of her mouth. 'Why?'
'I'd do it fast, too,' Lily continued. 'Before James tries to weasel his way back into your life again.'
Isla was so cold under the winter skyline, made entirely of frostbite and fragmented memories. She took a deep breath and said, 'James wouldn't want to go to a Slug Club Christmas party. He thinks it's boring.'
Lily laughed, sinking into the bed next to her. 'If you really think that, you're as dumb as he is. He'd go anywhere with you.'
She could feel her cheeks colour as she carefully avoided the emerald glimmer in Lily's eyes. 'Whatever. Let's go down and get breakfast.'
The sound of silver against ceramics warmed the Great Hall as they arrived at the Gryffindor table. Isla could feel her throat close over with frost as she dropped into the spare seat across from Peter. Her gaze, however, was drawn to the other side of the table, where James was deep in conversation with Gwenog Jones, one of Gryffindor's Beaters. Isla watched as hazel eyes raked over smooth dark skin.
She could feel something empty glisten within her ribcage, claws dragging on the left side and pressing roughly until her nerves stubbornly flickered back to life, disastrously uneven. Annoyance tremoured down her spine, twisted with the sting of betrayal.
But James wasn't hers anymore, if he ever was, and she wasn't any different than any other girl in this school. He didn't owe her anything. He didn't owe her a single glance.
And yet, a sound escaped through her mouth - a gasp, maybe, or a stutter - and James' gaze found her in a heartbeat. There was no way he heard it - not with a low rumble of noise throughout the hall - but she watched as his eyes widened faintly, lips barely parting, before he turned in her direction.
'Hey, Vix,' he murmured. 'What happened to being friends?'
Isla grabbed a piece of toast, desperately trying to make it look like she hadn't been staring. 'What?'
'Well, I don't think friends avoid each other for a week and a half.' His smile was charming, but Isla felt irritation flow to the palm of her hands. 'I haven't seen you since -'
'I've been busy,' she interrupted. Her gaze slid over to Gwenog, now in conversation with the girl next to her, trying to keep the accusatory stare out of her eyes. 'Looks like you have been, too.'
She watched as he took the bait; his shoulders straightened subconsciously, nose wrinkling just a bit at the tip. 'You know, Vix, I never would have pinned you as the jealous type,' he said.
'Not jealous,' she corrected, a bite seeping into her syllables. 'Just observing how quickly you're able to move on.'
James shrugged, the smooth line of his shoulders shifting with the ease of water. 'You're cute, Vix, really - but you have no idea what you're talking about.'
Irritation flared underneath her skin, reddening the tips of her cheekbones. She wasn't stupid - she could tell James was trying to make her jealous. But if she was certain about anything, it was that she would not back down without a fight.
Before she could think of a response, Lily leaned into their conversation. 'Vix. Remind us why you call her that?'
'My patronus is a fox.' She raised an eyebrow, an expression of challenge painted over her delicate features. 'Still think it doesn't suit me?'
'I think you're more of a cat.' James tilted his head. Isla hated that look in his eyes, hated how he was looking at her like he was seeing right through her. 'Do you scratch when people get too close?'
She flinched at the hidden message underlining his words: do you run away?
Isla refused to meet James' eye. The cold was creeping over her skin again, so frozen it almost hurt, fingers trembling with a sort of feverish delirium. Trying to control herself, she leaned across the table.
'Hey Remus. Do you like cats?'
He glanced up, swatting away Sirius' hand as he picked pieces of dried tomatoes off his plate. 'No, I've always been more of a dog person actually. Why?'
'No real reason ...' She glanced over towards James, making sure he was listening, before adopting a sweeter tone towards Remus. 'Just that I'm going to Slughorn's Christmas party this weekend and most people are bringing a partner. I thought you might want to come with me?'
She heard James scoff from down the table, but she didn't deign to look at him.
Remus shrugged. 'I don't know ...'
'Please,' Isla said, wincing as a hint of desperation unfurled in her tone. 'It'll be fun. I feel like the two of us haven't hung out in ages.'
Both James and Sirius were eyeing her as though she'd said something unthinkably treacherous; two pairs of eyes flickered between her and Remus.
'Fine,' Remus eventually gave in. 'Fine.'
Isla glanced down the table at James. She knew she'd won, but it didn't feel like a victory, more like a sting of loneliness circling her stomach.
James leaned back to study Isla's expression. She looked tired with the skin under her eyes a bit darker than usual; it was almost as if she was running on autopilot, mind entirely somewhere else as she avoided his gaze.
He could see the weight of shadows clinging to her back, satin and silk, and wondered vaguely if she'd done anything with the book they'd found at the library. Maybe if he'd gotten his head out of his ass and had taken things slower like he'd promised himself he would, he would be able to help her through it, instead of becoming another fraction of a distorted and twisted past.
Look at me, he thought desperately. God, Isla, just -
She looked. And when their eyes met, James felt a rush of warmth strike his body, and his lungs closed over completely. Time slowed down to a trickle of sand in a curved glass. His hands were shaking - what the fuck was that about?
Stay, he wanted to tell her. Just stay - let's try again.
But Isla wasn't his anymore, if she ever was, and so he let it go.
She scraped back her chair and stood up. The cold was still there, still lingering underneath her skin and penetrating deep into her bones.
She was just out of the Hall when James caught up with her. His hand caught her wrist, and his touch was soft, the fragrance of rose oil. Isla let a small, tentative sound escape her mouth, apples of her cheeks tinting a baby peach, just holding it there, hot to the touch.
'Isla,' he breathed. 'Can I talk to you about something?'
'I'm busy,' she said.
His eyes glinted like liquid sunlight. 'Isla, wait. You're shaking.'
Her breath halted in her throat. 'Sorry,' she whispered.
'Why?'
Tears were pricking the corner of her eyes but she refused to let them fall. She's spent too long keeping up her guard just for it to fall under the gaze of pretty eyes and a whisper of concern. 'I just - everything's moving so fast. It's all going too fast and I can't - I can't keep up. I can't.'
'I know,' James whispered, and his voice lingered over her collarbones like honey rose tea and soft silver bells and everything beautiful she could ever think of. It burned, in a way. 'I know -'
'James -'
'Let me finish,' he interjected. 'Let me finish, you brat. You'll cry and you'll bleed and you'll fall. God, you'll feel like running for the hills as soon as you face it, and it's not - it won't be pretty. And you'll probably feel like shit.'
'Well, this is helping -'
'Wasn't done,' James said again, and Isla glared as she closed her mouth shut, noting the tension seeping into his shoulders before leaking down to the base of his collarbones. 'You'll probably feel like shit, but that's not a good reason not to do something.'
He reached out for her hand, and all she could see were glimpses of champagne gold, warmth delicately seeping into her frost-stained skin.
'It's not that simple,' she whispered, and she turned away.
***
a/n: sorry for the slow updates bffs, i havent re read this chapter so it might suck idk
ik that in canon gwenog jones is probably older than the marauders, but she was in the slug club at some point and that seemed like a better idea than creating a whole new character :)) thank you as always for reading !!