Chapter 8

 

“What the hell is going on?” a familiar voice demands from behind me.

 

I yank away from James, spinning towards the open doorway.

 

He’s standing there, framed by dark wood, arms stiff at his sides, black robes shivering slightly, as though he’s shaking.

 

“Sirius,” I breathe, unable to tear my eyes away from his, even though they’re burning fiercely into my own. Sweet chocolate I want him.

 

“Didn’t mean for you to walk in like that, mate,” James says from behind me, voice casual. “I guess we forgot to shut the door.” He chuckles and I can hear him grinning at him, man-to-man. “Rem and I were a bit distracted.” One of his arms snakes around my waist and pulls me back against him.

 

Startled and confused, I don’t resist. My eyes are still riveted on blazing silver and I can’t think of anything else.

 

“Aren’t you going to congratulate us?” James is asking.

 

I’m surprised his furious grey eyes aren’t giving off sparks. “Why the hell should I congratulate you?” his voice is chilling, but the very sound of it sends heat through my veins.

 

I shiver against James, and feel his arm tighten around me, as though he knows that if he doesn’t hold me, I’ll fling myself across the room towards the long-haired boy looming in the doorway.

 

“Rem told me he decided not to go out with Davenport after all,” James explains calmly. “So I asked him out, and he agreed.”

 

“I see.” His eyes leave me, and I mourn their loss. They flick to James, and I feel the boy at my back flinch almost imperceptibly. “Lily?” The name is a question in itself.

 

“She’ll never go out with me, you know that,” James replies. I am unable to fathom how he can sound so… un-agitated. “I finally realized she’s just not interested. I told you back in fourth year I had a bit of a crush on Rem, here.” He places a light kiss on my neck; I barely notice it, riveted by the icy grey eyes boring once more into mine. “Well, I never really got over it, so I thought, if he was up for it, we might give it a shot.”

 

“I see,” he says again.

 

“Did you want to go for dinner?” James asks, still perfectly composed.

 

“Sure,” he’s clearly making an effort to restrain himself.

 

“Would you mind letting Peter know and going on ahead with him?” James still sounds utterly unruffled, though I can feel the tension in his body.

 

Has he realized that he seems ready to kill someone?

 

He says nothing, just nods once, sharply, and stalks out. He doesn’t close the door behind him.

 

James releases me at once, and goes to close the door with a bang.

 

I stand where he left me, unable to move.

 

James turns to me. “Sorry about that,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “He showed up downstairs right as I left Lily to come up here. She said she’d try to stall him, but then I heard him coming up the stairs, and I kind of panicked.”

 

“Oh,” my voice emerges as a sort of undignified squeak. I clear my throat and try again. “Oh.” Much better. Wait, did he say – “You’ve had a crush on me since fourth year?”

 

James flushes slightly. “Third, actually, but I didn’t tell Sirius until fourth year, I was worried he’d be weird about it.” James frowns slightly. “Come to think of it,” he says softly, “he was a bit strange about it. Not because we were both guys – I mean, why would that bother him? – or even because we’re friends. It was, well, strange. I can’t explain it. It was almost as if he were defensive, but I never really thought about it like that, and that doesn’t strike me as exactly right, though closer than any other way I could describe it. That would make sense, though, if Lily’s right. It would also be a reason for him not to have ever told me if he does return your, er, feelings. Because I’d told him that I liked you.” He falls silent for a moment, obviously lost in thought.

 

“Er…” I feel suddenly awkward, and slightly trapped. “Dinner?”

 

“Oh, right.” James nods. “Come on, then. Lily said she was going to wait downstairs.”

 

I follow him down to the common room, and Lily rises from one of the couches as we approach.

 

“Whatever you did, it worked,” she says without preamble. “He stormed through here looking furious. Keep this up, and everything will be settled before Christmas.”

 

James’s mouth quirks in a bit of a grin, and he glances sideways at me.

 

Lily notices, and raises an eyebrow. “What did you do?” she inquires.

 

“Er…” Why do I always feel so awkward talking about things like this?

 

“I kissed him right before Sirius walked in,” James says. He’s watching Lily carefully. “He saw us.”

 

If he’s hoping for a jealous reaction from her, which wouldn’t surprise me, he must be disappointed, because she only grins. “Wonderful! And you sent him ahead to dinner?”

 

James and I both nod.

 

“Rem, come here,” she beckons me closer.

 

Not quite sure what she wants, I take a hesitant step nearer.

 

Lily rolls her eyes and closes the distance between us before reaching up and ruffling my hair.

 

“What the – Lily!” I bat her hands away in irritation and try to fix the damage, praying it’s not hopeless without the use of a mirror. “What’d you do that for?”

 

She smirks. “So it looks like you and Wonder-Boy here were fooling around,” she explains.

 

I gape at her for a moment, then carefully close my mouth. Right.

 

“So stop fixing it until you get down to dinner,” Lily instructs, yanking my hands away from my head, where they’ve automatically been smoothing the mussed strands. She messes up my hair again. “Now, you and James go down to dinner. Take your time, but make sure when you go into the Hall you look like you’ve rushed down there. Then you can fix your hair, Rem. After Black has seen you.”

 

I don’t move.

 

“You, uh, might try playing along, as well,” James mutters.

 

I look at him, and see that he’s blushing slightly. “What?”

 

“Well,” his blush deepens. “I don’t think he’ll really buy that you and I are together if you keep trying to jump him. I mean,” he corrects himself hastily, “if you want to jump him, you’re perfectly within your rights to do so, and I wouldn’t dream of standing in your way, but, uh, if we’re going to pretend to be together, you have to pretend, too. It doesn’t work if I’m the only one acting like we’re a couple.”

 

“So don’t botch this,” Lily orders, fixing me with a stern glare. “Couple means two.”

 

“Right.” I nod, but wonder if I’ll be able to obey. I’m fast losing control, and part of me can’t help but wonder what would happen if I did just jump him.

 

“Play footsie, or something,” Lily suggests, pushing us towards the portrait hole. “Hold hands under the table, but not really under the table. Just, you know, be couple-y.” She pushes on the back of the Fat Lady’s portrait, and waves at us as we head down the hall. “Be cute!” she calls after us before vanishing back inside.

 

“Be cute?” James asks, leading the way towards dinner.

 

I don’t reply. My head is whirling with everything that’s happened.

 

I’d never kissed anyone before this week, and now, today, I’ve kissed three different people, not one of whom is the person I really want to be kissing. Does that make me a slut? Can guys be sluts? Aren’t I supposed to be the prude? My world is completely askew. I don’t know what’s going on anymore.

 

“Do you think Lily was right?” James suddenly breaks into my thoughts.

 

“What?” I glance askance at him.

 

“About everything being settled by Christmas,” James clarifies.

 

“Oh. Er…”

 

“It’s just that, well, term’s almost over, just another two weeks.”

 

“You’re going home, aren’t you?”

 

“You know they make me every year.”

 

“Peter and Lily, too.”

 

“So it will just be you and Padfoot,” James says.

 

“Just like every year.” The muscles in my stomach clench. I’ll be alone with him for the whole vacation, just the two of us in the dorm room. I can’t decide if I’m ecstatic or terrified.

 

We’ve reached the top of the stairs in the entrance hall.

 

James stops. He appears to be thinking. “Hold hands and run?” he says finally.

 

I nod. “How do I look?” I ask. Why do I feel nervous?

 

He reaches out and copies Lily’s actions of earlier. “Bite your lips,” he suggests, doing the same.

 

I obey. “Well?” I demand after a moment of chewing on my lips. “How do I look?”

 

He laughs. “Debauched. Me?”

 

“Wicked as always,” I reply.

 

He laughs again, and, suddenly, I feel a bit better about doing this with James. He’s obviously comfortable with it, and it hasn’t yet made things awkward between us if we can joke about it.

 

We’ll see if I still feel the same when I see him. I hope I can control this…

 

James grabs my hand, and squeezes, giving me a look that tells me he knows what I’m thinking. “I’ll hang on to you,” he promises. “I won’t let you do anything rash.”

 

“Thanks,” I tell him, and mean it. “On go?”

 

He nods. “Ready.”

 

“Set.”

 

“Go!” we both cry together, and take off down the stairs, hands tightly clasped.

 

We skid to a halt just inside the Great Hall and head for our usual seats at a more sedate pace. I’m certain he’s no more winded by the quick gallop down the steps and across the hall than I am, but both of us breathe more heavily as we approach our dorm-mates, who are already seated at the Gryffindor table. It’s easy enough to pretend we’ve run all the way here, we’ve both done it enough to know what it feels like.

 

“You’re late –” Peter begins as we slide into the seats across from our two friends, but he stops when he gets a proper look at us. His pale eyes widen. “What happened to you?” he asks.

 

Forcing myself to ignore him, I exchange what I hope is a guilty glance with James and try to fix my hair.

 

“We meant to come right after you left,” I say, and break off as James giggles. Since when does James giggle? What did I say that was so – oh. I suppress a sigh of irritation at my friend’s immaturity. I really have to be careful of how I word things. I should know that by now.

 

“We did mean to follow you,” James insists, having gotten himself under control. “But we got a little –”

 

“– distracted,” he says at the same time, voice sour.

 

I refuse to let myself look at him. Simply hearing his voice is driving my control ragged. I don’t think I would have the willpower to keep myself seated if I actually saw him.

 

“Exactly,” James says, beaming. He leans closer to me briefly – “Just breathe,” he whispers so low I can barely hear him – straightening my horribly mussed locks as if it’s the most natural thing in the world for him to do, then pulls back and serves himself from the choices on the table.

 

I follow suit, and begin to eat, trying to focus on my food.

 

After several minutes of silence, James subtly captures my hand.

 

“Ow!” Peter exclaims at the same moment. “Who kicked me?”

 

“Sorry,” James says at once, the picture of embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to.” He slides me a (very obvious) sidelong glance.

 

“Are you playing footsie?” he demands, sounding angry.

 

I make the mistake of looking up at him, and suddenly I have no interest in my dinner. His silver eyes are blazing, and I can feel them burning my skin.

 

James’s hand tightens on mine, pressing down into the bench as though to hold me in place.

 

“All in good fun,” James insists, grinning innocently. “Care to join in?”

 

His jaw tightens for a moment, then he stands abruptly. “I have to go,” he says, and strides determinedly out of the Hall.

 

My eyes fix on his back until he’s gone from sight.

 

“Why’s Sirius so upset?” Peter asks, confusion written plainly on his face. “Does he not like playing footsie?”

 

“I don’t think that’s the problem, Pete,” James tells our bewildered friend. He smirks at me in a maybe-this-will­-be-resolved-by-Christmas fashion.

 

“Oh.” Peter’s face clears a bit. “Well, can I play?”

 

TBC