Chapter 1 : Break Your Little Heart
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Don’t be so sentimental, no this love was accidental, so
Give it up, this was never meant to be more than a memory for you.
-Break Your Little Heart, All Time Low
7th year, three weeks until graduation
With Potter and I, things were never easy.
We were crazy about each other, but we drove each other crazy.
We fought too much.
Drank too much.
Thought too little.
From the get go, we went about things the wrong way. There was no courtship, no flirting, not even an awkward friendship phase. One night, we simply went overboard on whiskey, resulting in a drunken kiss.
Maybe that's why things didn’t work out? With such a lousy foundation for a relationship, it should be no surprise we ended in disaster.
Or, you know, maybe not.
* * *
Summer before 7th year, The Leaky Cauldron
“Hey, you there! Um, Jane, come over quick!” Potter slurs, pointing in my direction as another shot of Firewhiskey poured down his throat.
“Potter, both you and I know my name is June.” Shooting him my dirtiest look, I scoff at his drunken state.
Our mutual dislike is nothing short of legendary. I think he’s a pig headed egomaniac; he thinks I’m a self-centered bitch. He is probably right, but I’d never admit that. Just as I would never admit that sometimes I dream about him. Or that I found the note he was planning to give me, but never did, saying he might love me.
No, I would never admit that.
“Right, right. June! Juniiie, June, Juuuuune!” Granted, he was horribly off key, but I may have liked the way my name sounded coming from his lips.
“Yes, that’s me. Now, can you tell me what you want?”
“Well you see, I was wondering if you would be interested in making some magic together. Because my wand is at the ready.” Suggestively, he winks as he and his friend roar with laughter, high fiving and what not.
At first, I am a slightly appalled. However, having had a few glasses of mead previous to this encountered has made things a lot funnier. So, I start laughing along with them. I mean, the absurdity of Potter drunkenly using cheesy pick up lines on me is nothing short of hilarious. I can always use this as blackmail later.
Imagine the look on his face when he is sober and I tell him what he said!
“Good one. Did you think of it all by yourself?”
I guess being under the influence impairs your ability to comprehend sarcasm, because Potter replies in all seriousness, “Of course not! That’s the oldest one in the book Junie! But don’t fret, I’ve got another.”
He grabs another shot glass, sending a down second wave of liquid flame. A bead of sweat rolls down his cheek, creating an odd shimmer upon his face in the dim lighting of the bar.
“Have some of this first.” he refills his glass and hands it to me. I grab it, knowing I shouldn’t.
“Alright, here it is. In Quidditch, you may be a chaser, but I think you’re a keeper!”
I literally spit the whiskey into his face; a genuine spit take. I laugh, he laughs, his friends laugh.
The fact that I don’t even play Quidditch is irrelevant.
He offers me another. “Here,” he said. “Let’s try that again. This time, try your best to not get it all over my face.”
I drain it in one gulp.
A few hours later, only Potter, myself, and several empty bottles remain. Being alone with him gives me a strange thrill. It could be nausea (note to self: acid pops and alcohol don't mix) or maybe something else entirely.
“You know what? I figured out why you’re such a twat all the time Junie.” Potter says, trying to touch his tongue to his nose. He sure is a funny drunk.
Laughing, I say, “Is that so? Well, enlighten me! I’d really like to know.”
“It’s because you’re in love with me.” he states matter-of-factly .
Suddenly, the humor is gone. Never before have we talked about feelings. This is unchartered waters, and I don’t feel like going for a swim.
So, naturally, I go into panic mode.
“I’m not sure which is bigger, the entire universe, or your ego! Where do you get off telling me how I feel? That is just ridiculous! Unthinkable! So not-“
“Shhh,” He interrupts, stroking my hair. “It’s okay June, I love you too.”
Grabbing the hair he was previously stroking, he pulls me in.
He kisses me.
I kiss him.
If you thought firewhiskey was hot, try kissing a Potter.
* * *
Another problem of ours was he always said too much.
Not that I didn’t say my fair share during arguments, but he had this idea in his head that what you said didn't matter, it’s what you did. The whole ‘Actions speak louder than words’ bit. He never thought twice about hurting my feelings, never held back exactly what was on his mind. He claimed that if there was one girl he was not afraid to upset, it was I. Because, ‘I could handle it’, and for the most part, I did. But sometimes, things go too far.
* * *
7th year, four weeks until graduation
“STOP RIGHT THERE POTTER!” I scream at his retreating figure.
Angrily, he turns around.
“What the hell was that?” I ask incredulously.
“What was what?” he says through clenched teeth, his face turning redder by the second.
“What do you mean what? You just PUNCHED Corey Davies in the face! You walk in, smash your mates face in, then huff away with no explanation!”
His gaze is filled with hate, “Oh, don’t play dumb Adams. Stupidity doesn’t suit you.”
My face contorts in anger, ready to yell, when my eyebrows crumple in confusion. “DON’t YOU CALL ME- wait, what?”
Throwing his arms in the air exasperated, “You can stop pretending! I saw you two together.”
“Saw who? Corey and I?”
“Yes, God dammit! I saw the pair of you with my own eyes in that empty classroom last night. His hands were all over you!”
My mouth forms an ‘o’ shape as realization washes over me.
You see, the last few nights Corey has been helping me with Potter’s birthday present. We were to meet in that empty classroom to discuss how we were going to get a 10-foot cake into Hogwarts, when he shows up having had far too much to drink. Turns out his girlfriend, Claire Bobbin, had broken up with him just a few hours previous. Potter probably walked by thinking the worst, when really, Corey was just blubbering all over my shoulder on the verge of passing out.
I could see how he would take it wrong, but surely, if I explain he'll see its all one big misunderstanding, right?
Mistaking my look of recognition for a look of guilt, he yells, “I KNEW IT! You little slag. How long has it been going on? A week? A month? IS OUR WHOLE RELATIONSHIP A LIE?”
Ignoring the slag comment I continue, “Don’t be so dramatic, you don’t understand-"
He cuts me off, “Oh, I think I understand plenty. I UNDERSTAND that my girlfriend is a bloody cheater, and with one of my good mates no less! I should have known something like this would happen. After all, this is what you do best!”
At first, I wanted to clear things up, but now I’m mad. “Do what exactly?” I say slowly and carefully, trying not to yell.
“Push a person away, that’s what! You hurt people and you lie. I’m starting to understand why your mother did what she did. Hell, she deserves an award for putting up with you for as long as she did!”
I take in a gasp of air. He has crossed the line.
“Potter.” I manage to say, even though it feels my breath has been knocked out of me.
“You know, I always felt sorry for you. I thought of her as a horrible person for doing that to you, but if you could so easily treat me like dirt, who’s to say you didn’t do that to her?”
“Potter!” I utter with a little more malice, tears gathering in my eyes.
“Do you enjoy hurting me? What, did you think it would be funny to mess with my emotions? You’re mother had the right idea in leaving you, I wish I’d seen that befo-”
“ALBUS POTTER!” I scream his name, tears now streaming freely down my face.
For a moment, his mouth moves wordlessly; he is speachless. I’ve never called him Albus for as long as I’ve known him. It’s usually Potter, Al, or even the occasional Albie and Busbus when I feel like taking the mickey out of him.
I am also crying in front of him, another first. But I’m too angry to care; too hurt.
“Wait, are you crying?” His shock is gone, though apparently his poor sense of humor isn’t because he chooses this moment to laugh.
“We. Are. Done. I never want to see your face again.” I begin to shake, half from the crying, half from rage.
Finally starting to see that this situation is not humorous in the slightest, he stops laughing and tries to grab my hand in desperation. “June, let’s talk about this, what did I even do-”
I rip my hand away as fast as I can, “What did you do?” Pain is dripping from every word, which I hope is sending more of message than yelling did. “You broke my heart, Albus Severus! I trusted you, told you things I have never told anyone. I gave you my heart. Now you’ve ripped it to pieces, and you don’t even realize that you did.”
“Broke your heart? Isn’t this a bit of an overreaction-,” he says, trying to make light of the situation.
I turn to look at him one last time, a final tear escaping down my cheek. “Believe it or not ,Albus, words can hurt, too.”
With that final comment, I ran.
* * *
That was last week, and with only three weeks until graduation, I may just get my wish of never seeing him again. Part of me was hoping he’d try to make amends, but he hasn’t even bothered to apologize. Sometimes I wonder if ever loved me at all, or if breaking my heart was his plan all along.
Either way, I’m done with Albus Potter. Three weeks and I’ll be out of here, and on to bigger and better things. I’ve got an internship lined up in the department of Magical Transportation, my best friend Stella and I are getting a flat together, and maybe I’ll even accept James Potter’s invitation to meet him for a Butterbeer one of these days.
Who’s laughing now, Albus?
Disclaimer: I'm not JKR, so I don't own HP. Sigh. Title credit goes to the band All Time Low.
A/N2: Chapter edited July 9th to fix typos and grammatical errors. (Thanks so much to my amazing beta, arethusa.)