soo, to recap: Halle's an official competitor for the triwizard tournament. CONTROVERSY, IF I EVER SAW IT! enjoy.
Chapter 7: Of Nutters and Intense James Training Sessions
I officially had explained the situation 38 times.
38 fucking times.
At least rumour had spread and now everyone knew about Potter’s mistake, which resulted in two Hogwarts Champions. I got many jealous stares, but so far no haters. Everyone seemed pretty hyped up that Hogwarts had two champions again; heaps of people were going around saying that history is repeating itself.
And it better not be, since I was in no condition to watch the reincarnation of Voldemort.
When I returned to the Ravenclaw common room, in a bit of a daze due whatever had just gone on between Potter and I, the whole house, the whole fucking house, was waiting for me to explain.
And I did, upon arrival. Once finished I was hoisted onto Jordin and some other random fifth year’s shoulders and everyone was chanting, ‘Halle! Halle!’
I’ve got to admit, I was enjoying myself immensely.
The following day at the debriefing, Kingsley just explained the rules, and my wand was in tip-top condition. It was quite boring really, and I had to spend too much time with Potter. Potions class is enough, thank you very much.
I was now in lounging in the Ravenclaw common room, the novelty of everything had slightly worn off after a week. Elle was opposite me, proof-reading my excellent Transfig essay. She was nibbling on the end of my quill, her eyebrows furrowed in attention.
‘Don’t burst a vessel, thinking too hard,’ Jordin noted, smirking at Elle’s concentrated expression. ‘Squeeze over fatty,’ he ordered, nearly pushing me off the chair.
I jumped up before he practically sat on me, ‘You may have the whole chair, Jordin. I’m off now.’
Elle didn’t even look up from her parchment, ‘No you’re not, you have no friends apart from us,’ she said.
‘Hey!’ I exclaimed, ‘I am friends with everyone in sixth year thank you very much,’ I argued, poking her on the head.
‘Well where are you going?’ asked Jordin.
Inwardly, I smiled. Potter was being begrudgingly adorable, trying to make up for the whole sorry-I’ve-signed-you’re-death-penalty thing. He invited me to my first training session in preparation for the Triwizard Tournament. The bloke had practically ordered me to meet him on the third floor, to prepare for some, and I quote, bad ass, rigorous booty training.
Yes, I quote.
‘I’m off to make out with Scorpius Malfoy,’ I blurted out, without even thinking about it.
Elle’s head shot up, ‘What!?’ she screeched, ‘I thought those days were over!’
Jordin’s face turned stony, ‘Halle he practically broke your heart. I am not letting you go out there. Do not tell me I have to beat him up again,’ he said, rolling up his sleeves.
My eyes went wide, Scorpius was in the hospital wing for a week after Jordin had gone after him. He was the best Beater, bodyguard and best friend a girl could ask for.
‘Guys, it was a joke! Potter is going to train me, you know, for the Tournament.’
Elle smiled approvingly, ‘Yes! Some Halle-James alone time. About fucking time, I know you love him.’
Jordin turned to smile mockingly at me, ‘I knew it! My girlie senses were tingling whenever you two are together.’
Elle and I stared at him, before erupting into laughter. Did he just say girlie senses? And people think I’m weird.
Oh wait, I am!
Right, attentions back to Jordin and his girlie senses.
He just stared at us before saying, ‘Laugh all you want. I’m secure.’
I shook my head, ‘First of all –it’s Potter– not James. And how many times do I have to tell you? I’m only friends with him because- I’m not even friends with him. End of story.’
‘Whatever you say, Halle,’ Jordin murmured, before exchanging a knowing look with Elle.
I scoffed, ‘Screw you.’
Elle began coughing, and her cough sounded like a poorly disguised, ‘Someone’s in denial!’
Oh, screw her.
I walked down the corridor, enjoying the sound of my footsteps on the hard marble floor. My thoughts now seemed to be centred on a particular blonde-headed Slytherin, who used to take up a large capacity of my thinking time.
And sometimes, he still does.
A long time ago, (a full six months, I would say) Scorpius and Al used to be in our little group. We were a bit of a motley bunch, an odd combination of Slytherins and Ravenclaws. But we just, worked.
Let’s just say I had a small, insignificant, infatuation with Scorpius Malfoy.
Which practically the whole school knew about.
I mean he was a badass, blonde buff Slytherin, who had an absolutely swoon-worthy smile. And when I was with him, it was like the whole world was spinning on an axis, and it stopped just for us.
I know, that sounds incredibly corny, but when you’re a hormone crazed fifteen year old, Scorpius’s attention will do that kind of thing for you.
So, at the end of fifth year, the git finally catches on (and it only takes Albus screaming it in his face for him to understand) and he asks me out.
And I was fucking ecstatic.
The date was a complete success, and we started dating. Dated for three straight months, I tell you. We were kind of more snog buddies than partners, though. Every time he’d see me he’d push me up against a wall and snog me senseless. Hey, don’t get me wrong, I loved it. I was not complaining. I suppose we were friends-with-benefits, who would occasionally hold hands in the corridor.
And then one day, I found him in a broom closet snogging someone else senseless. I don’t even know her name. Some blonde Hufflepuff.
I could practically hear my heart break.
He tried to beg for my forgiveness, but seriously, who the fuck would forgive him? Even if he enchanted a rubber duck to talk so we could become best friends, even then I wouldn’t forgive him.
And that was saying something.
So, to get back at him (and this was strictly Dom Weasley’s plan, thank you very much) I kind of fake-dated Connor. It was fun; we were a good fake couple. Sent Scorpius livid though, he seemed convinced that I never really liked him, that I was just using him to get to Connor.
Which was a big fat ball of hypocrite if you ask me.
Ever since then we’ve had a mutual dislike for each other. I think both of us want to fix it, but neither of us know how or want to give up our pride and be the first to admit they were wrong.
We were acting like bloody Gryffindors, we were.
That was when he and Al sort of broke off our little group, and befriended some other Slytherins. And we became a strict, Ravenclaw-only group. Me, Jordin and Elle.
And I liked it that way.
But my heart still raced whenever I saw him. But as time passed, the racing sort of calmed down. It was still there though, to my utter annoyance, and I’m pretty sure I’ll never be completely over Scorpius Malfoy. Then again, it only happened like six months ago, so you know what they say. Time heals all.
He’s still a little blonde bastard.
Stopping outside the designated classroom, I tentatively turned the knob and walked inside, Potter was sitting there looking at a piece of parchment. He quickly tapped it and muttered something under his breath before tucking the parchment back into his pocket.
Hey, secret keeping! Not fair!
‘Was that your secret shopping list?’ I asked, raising my eyebrows suspiciously.
‘Nup,’ he replied.
‘Was that a mirror, and you were checking your hair?’
Dammit, I was sure that would be the one.
‘Was that a secret map, leading to an ancient Hogwarts treasure, consisting of rubber ducks and pie-makers?’
He chuckled, and I kind of felt pleased. That’s right, I made James Potter chuckle.
But it’s not like I care. I don’t even like him. But still, I made him chuckle.
Bitches be jealous.
‘You’re getting closer,’ he said, shrugging his shoulders, ‘but we’re not here to discuss that. I have decided to be the noble Gryffindor I am and help you survive in this Tournament. I wouldn’t want your death on my head, that’s for sure,’ he said, getting up off the desk.
‘Well isn’t that, thoughtful of you?’ I replied, sarcasm oozing from every word.
And there it was. Silence.
And not just any silence, but awkward silence.
When I thought about it, Potter and I hadn’t really spent much time together, apart from Potions class.
I mean, he was the reason I didn’t hang out with the Gryffindor Gaggle –a name Jordin, Elle and I came up with in second year – for Dom, Connor, Potter and Freddie.
Those four were practically inseperable. Nearly as close as Elle, Freddie and I.
And for all intents and purposes, we refer to ourselves as the ‘Claw Crew.
‘Cause we cool like that.
He cleared his throat, breaking the silence, ‘Let’s begin, shall we?’
Two hours later I was slumped on the floor, drenched in sweat and was practically dry-heaving. Merlin, that boy really does justice to the words rigorous training. I would hate to be on his Quidditch team, because I would probably die after one practise.
He was silent as he brusquely marched down to the Quidditch pitch, claiming I needed to work on my fitness if I wanted to be a competitor in the Tournament.
Hmm, I do believe I didn’t want to be a competitor in the Tournament; it was more forced upon me by a stupid, impulsive Gryffindor. Whose last name rhymes with Sotter. When I pointed this out to him, he simply scowled and dubbed me ‘The Spoilsport.’
Affectionate nickname, isn’t it?
‘Alright, Thomas! Show me what you can do! Laps around the pitch. Go! Go! Go!’ he yelled.
I looked at him like he was crazy, ‘Why the hell would I listen to you?’ I yelled back. He wasn’t the only one who could yell, you know.
‘Do you want to die?’ he asked.
I looked at my shoes and didn’t answer.
‘DO YOU WANT TO DIE?’ he yelled in my face. I jumped back and looked up at him.
‘NO SIR!’ I yelled before starting to jog around the pitch.
Did Potter just yell at me into doing laps? Army style?
Merlin, this is the weirdest day I’ve ever had.
Twenty fucking laps later, I was ready to throw up. Potter was leaning against the bleachers, looking impressed. ‘Twenty laps? Well done, Thomas. We’ll increase it by five laps every day, until you’ve reached fifty like me. Then we can jog together,’ he said, whipping his wand out of his pocket.
I didn’t really listen to anything he said, after he said fifty laps a day. I kind of had a panic attack and decided to stare at his abs to calm me down.
Damn, he was looking good in a sleeveless white tank-top.
Focus, Halle, focus! Remember, you’re not sure if you’re even committed into this friendship! Or half-friendship. Or whatever the fuck this was.
Nah, screw it, mmm…nice abs.
‘Thomas, are you even listening to me?’
I snapped my head up, breaking my reverie about his abs. ‘Absolutely not,’ I replied.
He smiled at me, the amusement evident on his face. Despite the back breaking labour, this was kind of fun. I would not mind making this a daily occurrence.
‘Just for that, another ten laps!’ he yelled again, how has no one heard him yet? He’s yelling for the trolls to hear!
‘Absolutely not!’ I exclaimed, dropping my ass on the floor and refusing to move.
‘ANOTHER TEN LAPS!’ he bellowed in my face. I had to close my eyes to avoid getting spit in them.
‘ABSOLUTELY NOT!’ I repeated, burrowing my head in my elbows. I was never going to lift my head from this comfortable position. Not even if he took his shirt off.
Ha! We all know that’s a lie.
‘Alright,’ he said, ‘you leave me no choice. You brought this upon yourself,’ he then proceeded to pick me up and throw me over his shoulder, like a freaking child, and began to run laps himself.
‘Jesus, Thomas! You weigh as much as a feather,’ Potter commented, ‘I could do this forever.’
I wailed and thrashed against his back, yelling, ‘I will get you for this! Curse the day you were born James Potter! And to think, I was going to make you an honorary member of the Rubber Duck Club!’
The last part was a lie. There is no Rubber Duck Club.
Potter chuckled and refused to let me down. Eventually my head started hurting from the constant thumping, and I agreed to run alongside him for the remaining five laps. It was nice, just running next to him. He stopped whenever I stopped and slowed down whenever I slowed down.
When we were finished we headed to the Quidditch change rooms and showered. Potter hardly broke a sweat while I was fairly sure I would pass out from the exercise.
By the time we were done it had gotten dark, and I enjoyed the feeling of the cool, crisp air hitting my cheeks. ‘Enjoy yourself?’ Potter asked, jogging to catch up with me.
I nodded, an odd sense of calm spreading over me, ‘Were you joking about the fifty laps?’
‘Absolutely not,’ he replied, grinning at my appalled face.
We walked the rest of the way in comfortable silence, and said our goodbyes. It took me a while to realise he had left and I was still standing in the same position, my head in a whirlwind of emotions.
To put it simply, Potter was nothing I had expected.
I kind of, and I’m literally waiting for a lightning bolt to strike me off the face of the earth for thinking this, but I’m kind of enjoying his company.
I mean, let’s make a list, shall we?
1) He’s funny.
2) He’s charming.
3) He’s teasing
4) And he’s…flirty?
And why the hell shouldn’t I like Potter? I don’t remember there ever being some sort of educational decree saying a friendship with James Potter was impossible. Earth-shattering. Sky-breaking.
It’s all these, preconceived notions. Two simple words that could sum up my feelings for Potter. Five years of cold shoulder-bumps and absolute existence-ignoring behaviour had given me stereotypes.
And, slowly, I was breaking them down.
Coming to this sudden realisation, my legs seemed to remember how to walk. I headed towards my common room, smiling for what seemed like absolutely no reason. I was in a good mood, and there was only one reason for it.
And that reason was James Potter.
somes James/Halle time muther focker. enjoy.
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ALRIGHT. IM BEGGING. IM BEGGING (yeah, i'm not despeate)
everything awesome belongs to j-shizzle. you know who i'm talking about