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Finders Keepers by silversnitch
Chapter 3 : Banter and Bubbles
 
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 11


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“Alfred, I feel like have no close friends anymore. I mean, I have Dom, but we’re so distant – she’s like, barely there.” I complained, pacing the corridor.


Alfred nodded glumly, stroking his magnificent grey beard.
 

“I’m sorry I’m being self-centred right now, but sometimes a girl needs her best girlfriend, you know?” I exclaimed, thinking longingly of Maya.
 

“I know.” Alfred replied kindly.
 

“Sophie? Is that you?” someone called down the corridor.
 

I jumped suddenly and glanced back at Alfred’s portrait. Luckily, he just walked out of the frame. Ah, Alfred. He understands me.
 

Okay. I acknowledge that my one and only confidant being a painting of a fifteenth-century Astronomer is not exactly healthy, but Alfred was (or is? – I don’t really know hisliving status since he’s a painting) a good listener.
 

I squinted into the dark corridor and my eyes found Connor. As he strolled up toward me, I observed him, like the creep I am. He had grown up a bit over the summer; he had filled out his previously lanky frame with muscles and his skinned was definitely more tanned.
 

“Who were you talking to?” He asked, with a puzzled look on his face.
 

“A ghost.” I lied easily.
 

Connor’s expression cleared. I love how at Hogwarts, you can answer questions withanswers like “a ghost” and people will just accept it. 
 

“What’s up?” I asked casually, ambling toward the Great hall.
 

It had been four days since the potions lesson in which Fred admitted that he used to think I was as boring as a doormat. I had planned not to speak to the guys but I got tired of silently getting up to retrieve every ingredient I needed. Eventually I just asked Fred to pass me a jar of beetle wings. After that, I couldn’t be bothered keeping up my cold-angsty-teenage persona so I began to listen and occasionally contribute mindless shite into their Quidditch conversations.
 

“James wanted me to tell you that you have a patrol tonight, from nine to midnight.” Connor replied, matter-of-factly.
 

On a Friday night? Gee, I would love to spend the best night of the week boringly wandering around with an arrogant git, whilst being overly conscious of my breathing patterns.  
 

Time of my life, right there.
 

“Why can’t he tell me this himself?”  I asked. Connor often ran errands for Potter and Fred. It was like he wanted to prove his allegiance to them since he wasn’t related to them. It was kind of sad, in a 16th –century-allegiance-proving kind of way.
 

“He was busy with something.” Connor shrugged, not looking at me.
 

“You mean busy with someone.” I corrected him, thinking uncomfortably of broom cupboards.
 

“James doesn’t really give much detail as to where he’s going. But yeah, probably.”Connor smiled cheekily.
 

Here was Connor, a normal guy. Maybe I could ask him for advice about Dom? He probably wouldn’t be better than Alfred. But at least he was human and more importantly, alive.
 

“Dom.” I blurted out randomly, my mind failing to connect with my mouth.
 

The sophistication of my conversational skills astounds me.
 

Connor’s neck cricked from the speed that he turned to me with.
 

“What about her?” He asked quickly. Too quickly. His ears had gone red.
Hmm. If I didn’t know better, I’d say Connor fancied Dom. Interesting. Very interesting. I was internally stroking my sage beard. But frankly, my problem was more important. I pushed away the temptation of prying into Connor’s love life. 
 

“Dom and I are in a friendship rut.” I exclaimed miserably.
 

“A friendship rut?” He queried, rubbing his neck.
 

“Yes, Connor. You know, when a friendship turns mind-numbingly boring?”
 

“Oh.” Connor replied, surprised. “I always thought you and Dom were best mates.”
 

“We were.” I sigh.
 

Connor was silent.
 

Flipping hell.
 

I had over-contributed and scared him off. Connor didn’t want to hear about my girly friendship troubles – he was a teenage boy with raging testosterone levels and the stomach of a troll. He was probably thinking about what was for dinner.
 

I needed to say something masculine and cool to get the conversation going again. Preferably in a low voice to maximise the masculinity.
 

“I hope they have proteins tonight, gotta work on my tricep-” 
 

“You probably need to talk to Dom more.  She talks to you a lot, but you seem to be more of a listener.” Connor interrupted me, with a serious expression on his face.
 

I thought about that for a moment.
 

“But you know Dom; she doesn’t shut up. I listen. That’s how it’s always been.” I explained.
 

“That’s your problem, babe.”
 

“Did you just call me babe?” I asked, horrified.
 

“Yeah.” He exhaled, looking disgusted. “Don’t mention that to anyone please.”
 

“I won’t… babe.” I replied smugly. I think I knew what I was going to call Connor for the rest of his life. 
 

We reached the Great Hall.
 

“Remember what I said about Dom, though.” Connor said, walking toward where Fred was stuffing his face. “Talk to her. Honestly.”
 

I nodded and walked further down the table to where Dom was sitting.
 

“Hey Soph!” Dom greeted me chirpily, with a blinding smile.
 

Merlin. She was so happy to see me, it made me feel horrible. I felt myself about to reply with a fake but equally-chirpy hello, but I stopped myself, thinking about what Connor had just said.
 

Talk to her. Honestly.
 

Honestly, ay? 
 

“You’re happy to see me, Dom.” I observed simply.
 

“I am, Sophdog. It feels like we haven’t talked properly in ages. I was looking for you before.”
 

Huh. I paused in shock for a moment - it’s not just me who feels the quiet, awkwardness. That was pleasantly unexpected.
 

“And then James and Fred told me you had been pacing near that portrait of Alfred the astronomer, and I figured you probably wanted to be left alone. So I left you alone. I really wanted to talk to you. But you need space and I get that. And I respect that.” Dom went on, serving me liberal amounts of shepherd’s pie.
 

“Wait, hold up. How did they know where I was?” I asked, holding my breath.
 

“I don’t know.” Dom shrugged. “James has his ways.”
 

Oh Shitty McShitkins.
 

Why? Why me?
 

Knowing my luck, Potter and Fred probably, most-definitely saw me venting to Alfred.
 

Why is the world so against me having street cred? I must’ve looked like a freaking maniac.
 

“Your cousins think I’m a weirdo, Dom.” I wailed, putting my head on her shoulder.
 

“Honestly Soph, I’d be worried if they didn’t.” Dom smiled, patting my head. 
 

“Let’s do something fun tonight.” Dom said suddenly, flinging her fork into the air in excitement. “My seventeenth! Merlin’s pantaloons, Soph! We need to plan it! Its two effing weeks away! ”
 

I sighed, and pulled out the piece of mashed potato that Dom had flung into my hair.
 

“I can’t. I have to patrol the corridors with your charming cousin.” I complained resentfully.
 

I was genuinely bummed. I would’ve loved to spend time with Dom without French Floozy Chick being all annoying and French and you know, existent.
 

“Sucks to be you.” Dom said sympathetically. We ate in a satisfied silence for a few minutes. The Hogwarts house-elves were skilled creatures. 
 

“Just don’t let James make any moves on you, Soph.”
 

That was random. I shot Dom an incredulous look.
 

“Come on! I’ve heard about a bajillion stories about prefects who eventually hook up.” She explained, poking my prefect badge with a stick of carrot.


“Dom, that would never happen. He hates me. And I think he’s a moron.” I say exasperatedly, wiping the carrot-juice off my badge with my robe.
 

“That’s what makes it worse, Soph. You two practically hate each other, which makes the sexual tension like, fucking colossal.”
 

I shook my head at her, chuckling.
 

“Want proof? Well, you’ve come to the right girl, honey.” Dom whispered crazily, suddenly scanning the Great Hall like some sort of spy.
 

“THERE!” Dom yelled excitedly, pointing wildly to the Hufflepuff table.
 

Wow, Dom. Way to be discreet.
 

People were looking curiously toward where Dom was pointing.
 

“Dom. Let’s just calm down, okay?” I muttered through gritted teeth, reaching out and lowering Dom’s arm. I shot the obligatory ‘my-friend-is-nuts-don’t- judge-me’ smile at people in our vicinity.
 

“See them?” Dom whispered, now pointing to a Hufflepuff couple who were feeding each other pie.
 

Ugh. I was judging them. Sharing food should be a crime. For Godrics sake, they were using the same fork and everything. Effing disgusting. It was too much.  I had to look away.
 

“I know. It’s freaking cheesy.” Dom agreed. “But that’s Robert Bones and that Grace Watts. Rumour has it that they hooked up on their first patrol. Now look at them! They’re still dating each other in their seventh-year. Practically married.”
 

“That’s true.” I said feebly.
 

However, one couple wasn’t going to convince me of Dom’s hook-up hypothesis. Dom seemed to pick up on this, as she delved into educating me on the love lives of various other prefects.
 

“Daniel Peterson and Jessica Clearwater. Ravenclaw fifth-year prefects. Current status: Snog buddies.” She said, pointing out two Ravenclaws who were talking quietly to each other.
 

“Jenna Flint and Ryan Peebles. Slytherin and Ravenclaw. Seventh-year prefects.” Dom continued, pointing out two random people, sitting on different tables. “In an open relationship, from what I gather.”
 

“Karen Woodcroft and Dugald Ricket. Hufflepuff fifth-years. Also snog buddies.”
“I think I get the picture now, Dom.” I say worriedly. Did prefects seriously hook-up that much? Horny bastards.
 

What the actual fudgemuffins was I to do? I hadn’t snogged anyone in a while. My snogging skills weren’t exactly in tip top shape. The only thing I made out with in the summer was a pumpkin pasty (it was great).
 

WAIT. I don’t even WANT to snog anyone. Especially not Potter.  What is wrong with me? I so totally did not need to brush up on my snogging skills. 
 

“Josh Zabini and Rachel Finnegan. Slytherin and Gryffindor. Head boy and girl. Going steady since last year.”
 

“Holy merlin, I get it, Dom!” I cry, pushing my plate away from me in disgust. My appetite had disappeared.
 

“Sorry, got a bit carried away there.” Dom apologised breathlessly, downing a glass of water like she’d just run a marathon.
 

I nudged my glass of water over to her. “I don’t want to snog anyone, especially Potter.”
 

Dom thought about this for a minute, her face a mask of concentration.
 

“There’s only one thing you can do, Soph.” She said gravely, coming out of her reverie. “It’s the only thing to prevent you from snogging my cousin and other randoms. And you’re not going to like it.”
 

I felt scared. Dom was looking at me as though she was about to diagnose me with a terminal illness.
 

“What is it?” I asked desperately.
 

“It’s something you hate doing. You despise this thing.” She said seriously, her blue eyes, wide and serious.
 

I searched my mind for things that I hate. It was probably something that I was bad at.
 

Realisation hit me.
 

“No.” I gasped, shaking my head slowly.
 

No. no. no. 
 

“Yes.” Dom replied tightly, the corners of her mouth twitching. 
 

No.” I gasped again, now suppressing wild, internal shudders.
 

“Yep,” Dom grinned wickedly. “Sophie, you have to engage in small-talk.”


Cue the groans of agony.
 

Small talk: conversing in a polite yet irrelevant manner in attempt to appear friendly and normal.
 

Also known as a complete bullshitting session between two individuals, which commonly involves comments about the weather and homework, and often backfires into feelings of pure and glutinous awkwardness. 
 

***
 

I was staring at the clock above the fireplace.
 

Eight fifty-eight.
 

I looked back at Potter, who was lounging on the best couch in all of the common room, talking to Amy, who was perched on the arm rest.
 

He was showing no signs of getting up, even though our patrol was literally in two minutes. It was time for me to put the responsibility pants on. I mean, I had already broken up Potter and Amy’s flirt-fest once. I was pretty sure I could do it again.
 

I began marching over to the aforementioned couch.
 

Potter’s back was to me as I approached. I tapped him on the shoulder.
 

“Let’s go. It’s nearly nine.” I say, trying to look stand-offish and not at all apologetic that I was breaking up a conversation between the future Mr and Mrs James Potter.
 

Ugh. 
 

“What?” Potter replied, looking a little dazed.
 

“Patrol, dimwit. Come on.” I reply sharply, flicking his head with my finger.
 

Wow. Why did I just flick him? I’m not a violent person. Godric, that was so unlike me. I’m definitely the ‘violence-is-not-the-answer;-use-your-words’ kind of gal. What has happened to my morals?
 

“Sorry.” I muttered quietly, patting the side of Potter’s head. 
When you injure someone, you just had to pat them. It was practically the law.
 

Potter’s hair was amazing; it was silky but also quite bristly. A bittersweet sensation that left your hand kind of begging for more.
 

Potter and Amy were both looking at me weirdly. I took my palm off the side of Potter’s silky head and cleared my throat. 
 

“Patrol. Outside. Waiting.” was all I managed to cough out, before marching incredibly quickly out of the common room.
 

Nicely done, Sophie.
 

I was waiting outside til nine oh-two. It was ridiculous.
 

Potter eventually stumbled out of the portrait hole, fiddling with something in his hands.
 

“Finally, he comes.” I sighed irritably.
 

“Sorry, I had to get something.” He reasoned. We started walking toward the fifth floor.
 

“And what did you have to get?” I asked suspiciously.
 

“Disinfectant for my head.” Potter lied smoothly, gesturing to the side of his head that I patted.
 

I laughed sarcastically.
 

“I wish I could protego myself from your bad jokes, Potter.”
 

He let out a low whistle.
 

“You love them, just admit it, McLaggen.”
 

“I’d sooner kick myself in the face than ever say that.”
 

“I’d like to see that.” Potter smirked defiantly. “Go on, kick yourself in the face.”
 

I rolled my eyes, about to tell Potter something I’d truly like to kick.
 

But.
 

I couldn't engage in this sort of sarcastic banter with Potter. Not if I didn’t want to get snogged. I mean, Dom’s theory hadn’t completely convinced me, but I’d read enough romance novels to know that banter led to sexual tension and sexual tension led to snogging and snogging led to THE DEED and THE DEED would lead to babies and the babies would need their nappies changed and I was SO NOT READY to be wiping another person’s backside. Nuh uh. Not me. No way.
 

No babies.
 

I led the way through the dark corridors, already pressingly aware of the awkward silence that would soon engulf Potter and I.
 

Small talk. Okay.
 

I racked my brain for something normal to say, but not something too normal. I didn’t want to make my hideous attempts at small talk obvious. Potter just had to think I was normal and boring. That would be easy, on account of the fact that I was normal and boring.
 

Think, Sophie, think.
 

Potter was overtaking me. Then he turned around, so he was walking backwards. He was looking at me.
 

AH.
 

AAAAAAH.
 

His body language just said it all.
 

He wanted the goods.
 

My goods.
 

I could not look at his gorgeous face (which personally, I felt he didn’t deserve) otherwise he might mistake my awkward, silent stare for a lusty look of masked desire.
That’s what Dom had said to me, anyway.
 

Potter cleared his throat loudly. The silence we had shared was too long.

AH THE AWKWARDNESS.

I looked up at him.
 

Last chance at small talk. I urged myself to say something, anything. To just put together a goddamn sentence would be great.
 

“Lovely weather we’re having, don’t you think?” I observed, lamely gesturing to a dark window.
 

Wow. Not cliché at all. I wondered if he picked up on it.
 

“Seriously, McLaggen?” Potter guffawed. “You want to do the whole small talk thing?”
 

I felt like slowly applauding myself.
 

“What else are we supposed to do?” I asked defensively.
 

“We could just walk around silently like the indifferent teenagers we are.” He suggested calmly, waving to a passing ghost.
 

WE CAN’T DO THAT BECAUSE THE SILENCE WOULD END UP FRAUGHT WITH TENSION AND WE COULD END UP SNOGGING AND THAT WOULD BE HORRIBLE.
 

“Oh, you know, that’s to – er – mainstream. I don’t really go with the flow, Potter. I’m more of a fish-against-the-current kind of gal.” I stammered.
 

As you can tell, lying really isn’t my thing.
 

Potter raised an eyebrow at me.
 

“You just used three aquatic-related proverbs in a row.”
 

“So?” I asked casually.
 

“I’m impressed.” Potter replied, giving me a nod of approval.
 

What a supercilious git. I narrowed my eyes. I did not need his nod of approval.
 

“Well thank Merlin I have impressed you. It was one my goal in life. For now I can die a happy woman.” I proclaimed dramatically, clutching my heart.
 

Potter chuckled, shrugging. That’s right. Laugh at my mockeries of you.


We walked up a flight of stairs in another awkward silence.


Merlin, how was I going to survive this patrol?


“We could just snog.” Potter suggested brusquely, shrugging as though this was his last resort.
 

WOAH.
 

UM.
 

OKAY.
 

WELL.
 

THAT WAS DIRECT.
 

I had no idea how to reply. But I tried anyway.
 

“I don’t know about the other prefects, but I, for one, am not some hormone-crazed barbarian and I don’t think I should be subject to this swinger sort of behaviour because, I mean, let’s be honest here, that’s just a recipe for disaster. Like, what if I was in a relationship, huh? What if I was gay? What if I had an STI? I’m sorry but in my opinion, snogging would just be really irresponsible and as prefects, as prefects, I don’t think we should be condoning this kind of behaviour. I don’t think snogging is the answer here. Snogging is not the answer to your problems, Potter.  SNOGGING IS NOT THE ANSW-”
 

“HOLY SHIT MCLAGGEN.” Potter interrupted me. “Please, shut up.”
 

My face was burning and I was gasping like an obese man.
 

“It was just a suggestion.” Potter shrugged, unabashed. “Your loss.”
 

As I thought about how to reply in this odd situation, Potter muttered something unintelligible.
 

“Ntwhatyrfrendmyasaidbutok.”
 

“What?” I asked.
 

“Nothing, nothing.” Potter trilled casually.
 

The phrases ‘nothing, nothing’ and ‘don’t worry’ are two of the most frustrating and redundant phrases in the English language. Instead of extinguishing your curiosity, they just ignite it to massive proportions.
 

I was suddenly very interested in what Potter had to say. 
 

“Tell me, Potter.”
 

“Nah.”
 

“Come on, spit it out.”
 

“Nope.”
 

I widened my eyes to a scary size. “I will torment you for the rest of this patrol until you tell me.”
 

“Fine.” He sighed, defeated. He didn’t look me in the eye. Then he fidgeted with his fingernails for a bit. “I just said that that’s not what your friend Maya said when I asked her.”
 

What?
 

He’d asked Maya the same question?
 

And she had a different response to me?
 

It took me a few moments to put two and two together.
 

“WHA- WHA- WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK? YOU AND MAYA SNOGGED?”
 

“It only happened like three, maybe four times.” Potter bleated, looking embarrassed.
 

“WHAT?” I roared. My heart was suddenly beating like crazy.
 

How could Maya not have told me this? How could it have possibly slipped her gifted mind to tell me that she was SNOGGING THE FUCKING SON OF THE BOY WHO LIVED?
 

“Hey!” Potter replied, his hands put up in front of him defensively. ‘It was a mutual decision! Don’t get all bitchy on me - it was Maya’s choice too.”
 

I couldn’t say anything. I was just growling under my breath. This was FUCKING OUTRAGEOUS.  They were the most unlikely pairing that I ever did know. She was smart, responsible and genuinely cool. He was arrogant, showy and a serial whore. Maya never even mentioned who her patrol partner was, let alone tell me that she was hooking up with him late into the night. What did he see in her? What did she see in HIM?
 

GAH. My brain was rejecting the information it was receiving.
 

Potter was still talking.
 

“…but noooooooo. It’s always the guys fault isn’t it? And besides, it was just a bit of snogging, nothing serious.”
 

The thought of the two of them, pressed up against each other in a storage cupboard filled me with revulsion and horror. I felt disgusted to be in Potter’s presence.
 

“I think maybe we should split up.” I stated coldly.
 

I took an abrupt left turn and trooped down the narrow corridor at full speed. The sleepy portraits adorning the corridors were hissing irritably at my loud footsteps against the stone floor. I was too caught up in my flabbergasted thoughts to care.
 

Potter’s revelation had worked like Polyjuice potion in my mind; turning Maya from someone awesome to a heartless monster. Maya knew that I told her about every single person I snogged (Even that time I kissed a second year when I was in fifth year. Not one of my greatest moments. But he was really tall, okay?).  She even knew that I liked Potter, once upon a time. Didn’t that at least warrant a ‘hey I snogged Potter last night’?
 

Merlin, I was confused.
 

“McLaggen, wait!” I heard Potter call from behind me.
 

Gah. Twenty minutes with me and he’d already developed separation anxiety. I have that effect on men.
 

(Not.)
 

In a trice, Potter had materialized next to me.
 

“Are you always this dramatic?” He asked, observing my face.
 

In response, I began walking faster. I did not sign up for this to be traumatized by my fellow prefect. In fact, I hadn’t even signed up for this! This was all Professor Robins’ doing. Her and her idiotic, optimistic attitude. The first thing I was going to do tomorrow was to give the stupid, silver badge back to her.
 

Potter matched my pace with ease.
 

“You need to chill out.” He advised me.
 

“Potter, I want to be alone right now, if you don’t mind.” I said, through clenched teeth.
 

“I do mind.” He replied simply. “I hate walking around alone.”
 

I looked up at him to see if he was serious. Surely James Potter, the badass son of the boy-who-lived, didn’t mind walking around alone. He seemed serious enough, as he was staring straight ahead, absent-mindedly ruffling up his hair with his hand. Merlin, his hair was shiny. I wanted to touch it again. Potter caught me gazing at him and I rearranged my face back into the scowl I was wearing before.
 

Potter opened his mouth to say something, but promptly closed it again. He did this a few times, until finally, his whole face brightened and he turned to me.
 

“You want to see something cool?” He asked excitedly. His eyes were twinkling with enthusiasm. I couldn’t refuse.
 

I shrugged and Potter plunged his hand into his pocket and pulled out a piece of parchment.
 

‘I don’t want your signature, Potter.” I said flatly. “I don’t care how famous you think you are.”
 

“Very funny, McLaggen.” He muttered, tapping the parchment with his wand. “But you haven’t earned my signature yet. What I’m about to show you, I’ve only shown to Al, Connor and Fred. You should feel honoured.”
 

I rolled my eyes, but I was touched. Potter was obviously trying to make up for the whole snogging-Maya shebang.
 

He held out the parchment to me. Faded ink was slowly appearing on it. I peered at it intensely.


Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present the Marauders Map.


Potter flipped open a fold in the parchment and inside was a map, with moving dots on it. The moving dots were footprints of every freaking person inside the Hogwarts castle. EVERYONE. I KID YOU NOT.

I could see Albus Potter, Scorpious Malfoy and a bunch of other cool Slytherins sitting in their common room. I could see Rose Weasley walking back from the library. I could see Professor Slughorn freaking standing in the shower.
 

NOT GOING TO LIE, IT WAS PRETTY STALKERISH. However, its redeeming quality was the handwriting.
 

Holy shit. Whoever scribed the map had thin, cursive script that was perfectly angled to the right. It looked like it had been typewritten.
 

“Merlin, that handwriting is amazing.” I breathed. 
 

“I show you an enchanted map of Hogwarts, and you look at the handwriting?” Potter snorted, shaking his head in disbelief. “McLaggen, you really are something else.”
 

“But, I mean, look at it! Look at how the letters lean! All the ‘e’s are the same – that is a really hard skill because ‘e’s are often quite versatile when it comes to writing.” I splutter, trying to redeem myself.
 

“Yeah, ‘e’s are the worst.” Potter agreed sarcastically, face-palming himself in mock-disgust.
 

I shoved him with my shoulder and opened another flap of the map. This section of the castle was pretty deserted.
 

Potter put his hand through his hair again, gently ruffling up the strands that were hanging in his eyes. His arm nudged mine softly.
 

“That’s us, there.” Potter said, pointing at two dots.
 

Two dots which were pretty close together.
 

I looked up at Potter again. He was already looking at me. Those gorgeous brown eyes were looking straight into mine. I realised I was holding my breath.


It was just this strangely intense moment. It felt like time was going really slow. I loved it. Potter’s face was quite enchanting to look at. He had clear, creamy skin, long eyelashes and a few freckles here and there. His eyes were a warm, deep, velvety brown. I mean, the brown was somehow both light and da-
 

And then the moment ended. Bluntly. Like a rubber band snapping. 
 

Potter cleared his throat loudly and looked away.
 

I felt a little drunk. Merlin, looking straight into people’s eyes was freaking weird.  Kind of like drugs.
 

“Er- bathroom?” Potter muttered, his voice croaky.
 

“What?” I asked. My voice sounded really loud.
 

“You want to see the prefect’s bathroom?” Potter asked, now looking intently at the map.
He was completely avoiding eye contact. I started smiling. Could James Potter be feeling – Heaven forbid –awkward?


“Yes!” I cried enthusiastically. Anything to stop him feeling weird. “I’ve been meaning to ask you for directions.”
 

Whilst we were walking,  I chattered on about what I’d been told about the legendary prefects’ bathroom. Apparently it had a huge bath tub, and a bazillion different types of soap. Maya had described it to me in explicit detail after her first visit.
 

“Why didn’t Maya just tell you where it was?” Potter asked simply, “I’ve been telling Fred and Connor the password to this place for ages.”
 

I opened my mouth to reply but closed it, feeling rather affronted.
 

“Maya and I …” I broke off, thinking of a witty direction to steer the conversation. “We actually followed the rules.”


“Yeah, yeah. I know you’re a saint. No need to remind me.” Potter sighed impatiently.
 

Was he feeling offended about me declining his invitation to snog? Hmm.
 

“There’s nothing wrong with following the rules.” I replied reasonably.
 

“It can just get a little boring.” Potter said pleasantly, shooting me an artificial smile. “But anyway, we’re here.”
 

He stopped at a door behind a bewildered-looking statue.
 

“Welcome to the crème de la crème of prefect life, McLaggen. Citrus breeze.”
 

The door to the bathroom opened as he said the password and I was suddenly immersed in the scent of assorted floral, fruity and herbal soaps.
 

I gasped as I walked in. The room was made completely of marble, which seemed to twinkle under the warm light of the candle-topped chandelier. In the very middle of the room, directly under the elaborate chandelier, was a freaking hexagonal pool. Not simply a huge bath, but a pool. It was inset into the ground, and one side of it was lined with hundreds of bejewelled gold taps. The pool was situated under three huge, exquisitely-cut; stain glass windows, which turned the night sky into a glittering masterpiece.
 

It was one of the coolest rooms I’d ever seen.
 

“Are you going to pass out?” Potter asked humorously, walking toward the taps.
 

I shook my head and caught my reflection in the mirror. A few curly tendrils of my hair were escaping from my braid, and my eyes were widened with shock. I looked significantly crazy.
 

Potter turned on a tap, and thick, white foam gushed out. I laughed with delight. He tried another one and out came blue bubbles the size of my face. I nearly shrieked.
 

BUBBLES.
 

I felt vehemently irresponsible, but I spent nearly the rest of the patrol trying out the taps in that bathroom.
 

It was phenomenal.
 

***
 

Potter and I ambled back to the common room in a (wait for it …) comfortable silence.
 

A silence. That was comfortable.
 

I know, I couldn’t believe it either.
 

“This patrol was …” Potter began, as we walked toward the dormitory steps, “ ... not that bad.”
 

“Yeah.” I agreed. Apart from the whole Maya-and-Potter-fiasco, the patrol itself was not a fail of epic proportions.
 

I paused on the steps to the girls dormitories. I wondered if I should say ‘good night.’

Would it be lame?
 

It was the polite thing to do. 
 

“Have a good night.” I said feebly.
 

“Technically it’s morning.” Potter remarked, inclining his head toward the clock.
 

I cast my eyes skyward in annoyance, and started retreating up the staircase to my dormitory.
 

Honestly, the sheer discourtesy of it all. You try to be nice, and you get corrected. You simply can’t win with this guy.
 

“But thanks. You too, mate.” Potter yawned. I heard him moving up the stairs to the boy’s dormitory. 
 

‘Mate’?
 

MATE’?
 

Hmm. I wasn’t sure about how I felt about that.
 

I mean, this is a guy who has literally never called me by my first name. Now, all of a sudden, he decides he’s going to address me as ‘mate’?
 

No. Just no.
 

As I opened the door to the snoring dormitory, my thoughts drifted to Maya. Would I tell Dom about Maya’s snogging escapades?   
 

Whilst feeling around for my bed in the dark, I decided against it. Dom didn’t have to know. It would just cause drama.
 

“OH, FINALLY!” Someone yelled loudly, nearly stabbing me with a lit wand.
 

“MAYA AND POTTER SNOGGED AND I’M SORRY PLEASE DON’T HURT ME.” I cried out in shock, completely taken off-guard. I cowered away from the blinding Lumos charm that Dom was casting.
 

“WHAT?” Dom shrieked. Her wand seemed to glow brighter.
 

Let’s just say it took more than a few minutes to calm Dom down. Eventually, when Dom had stopped muttering about ‘ultimate betrayal’, ‘violations of the girl code’ and ‘the legal obligations of friends,’ I took the opportunity to distract her.
 

“So why were you waiting for me?” I asked, “It’s pretty late.”
 

“I just wanted to know how your first patrol went.” Dom sniffed, leaping gracefully from my four-poster bed, back onto hers.
 

“As if.” I snorted in reply. “I know you’re not that selfless, Dominique Weasely. Tell me the real reason.”
 

“Okay, fine.” Dom huffed. “I have no idea where to host this birthday party of mine.”
 

I started laughing loudly at this but stopped abruptly at seeing Dom’s wounded expression, illuminated by the blue wand-light.
 

“Soph, if this is funny to yo-”
 

“What about the Room of Requirement?” I interrupted brightly.
 

“That room’s been overdone.” Dom replied sombrely.
 

“True.” I agreed. Everyone seemed to have their parties there. I was very accustomed to bobbing awkwardly to music in that room.
 

We were silent for a while.


And then it hit me like a bludger to the head. I knew somewhere bloody brilliant to have a party. 
 

“Dom! I know the perfect place!” I laughed, thinking of pools and bubbles. 
 

No reply.
 

“Dom?” I whispered. “Dom, I have an idea!”
 

Right on cue, Dom snored softly.
 

Wonderful.
 

“No one appreciates me around here.” I whispered to myself gruffly.
 

“Soph, shut up.” Violet mumbled sleepily.
 

See what I mean? Even my private, angst-ridden exclamations are silenced by others. Where’s Alfred when you need him?

--------------------------------

A/N: Hi! Sorry this chapter took a while! *Insert typical teenager excuse here*

Please review if it is humanly possible for you to do so! Words cannot describe the amount of love I feel when reading reviews!   I'd love to know what you think of the characters so far. 

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