chapter seven, it's a bad idea, right?

january 15th, 1977

𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐈 𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐅 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 '𝟕𝟔; a Gryffindor boy named Trevor Castle who was two years older than the fourth year Lori. Trevor seemed decent at first until he turned out to be a misogynistic prat, reluctant to negatively comment on anything and everything Lori was doing in her day-to-day life.

That relationship ended with Tara Maleek breaking his nose in the middle of a Quidditch Game with a Bludger.

Lori fancied boys before — only some but never serious, in fact — and it caused a distinct, bothersome feeling in the pit of her stomach. It could eat away at her; she could obsess over it and pick it apart with her perfectly manicured fingertips. With James, everything flatlined. It was calm, placid, like the Black Lake. She didn't even have to think about it. It was something that could exist in silence, just like them.

Again, exaggerating the fact that she does not fancy Potter, this was merely a tiny thought that needed a tad reassurance and problem-solving. Sure, he was cute, hardworking and honestly the perfect boyfriend material, but she didn't have feelings for him. He really was a keeper. Just not for her. For sure.

She often wondered if it was a bad idea to ask Potter for assistance in any shape or form. When she was a stubborn ten year old girl, she had sworn if she was on the verge of death and James was the only person around, she would still never ask him for help. 

However, since she has been giving her dad such a hard time ever since her mother cut contact, why not put in some effort to pay him back? Everybody knows Lori loves balance. So when James Potter of all people offered an oppurtinity, it was the perfect time to assure Darius Lantsov that she was participating in some sort of extra curriculum at school and not brood like a loser; it was given to her on a silver platter.

Lori had never been that interested in Quidditch, but it sure was something that would feel amazing to be good at. She just never was. And James Potter was somehow the person to change that (don't mention it to Tara, like, ever).

It may sound rude, but the boy has no life outside of Quidditch. He eats, sleeps, and breathes the sport. He had read 'Quidditch through the ages' countless times and spent probably thousands of hours on the pitch. Lori honestly thought they were quite similar. No, she wasn't completely in love with some game like he was, but she kept her head down and focussed on what was important. Potter could easily get a girlfriend if he wanted to. But of course, the only one he wanted didn't want him. How cliché!

When she took out her necessary equipment from her backpack, as if on queue, a voice came, that she quickly noticed to be Ayaan Patil — one of the Ravenclaw prefects Tara briefly dated last year. 

"Lantsov, there is someone at the portrait asking for you," he said, as he walked up tot he chair on which she was sat, "don't let him in, that would be against school policy." he turned on his heels, his posture like two legs in quicksand — they couldn't be straighter — and walked away in the direction he came from, through the portrait and out of sight. 

Lori sighed, wondering who would need her of all people, clamping the book shut on her leather bookmark.

She swung open the bronze ornate framed portrait, a gust of colder air hitting her in the face, to be met with a smiling face that she had seen so many times, rocking back and forth on his toes, like he had been enthusiastically waiting for her to appear at the door.

Lori didn't know who she was expecting to see at the other end of the portrait hole this early on a Saturday morning, but it wasn't James Potter.

"James?" She said, puzzled, on noticing the dark brown hair. He looked up and met her eyes, hands in his pockets, "can I help you with something?"

"I just came to see if we could play Quidditch together?" He asked, still casually, but also slightly uncertain of how she would react.

The hint of nervousness quite easily made one corner of her lips quirk, "Now?"

He nodded his head nonchalantly, "Yeah, I need a new pastime and more of the serotonin I get knowing I'm better than Ravenclaw's smartest girl at Quidditch." he added with a smirk.

She chuckled dryly, "I told you once I'm good at the game, you won't stand a chance," She folded her arms, focussing on the way he was stood. It was so casual and natural. he was comfortable when talking to her, not disinterested or showing off, as he stood, hair still flopped over his face to indicate he had just taken a shower, his baggy jeans loosely around his waist. "But I'm free now, if you're that desperate." She added with a sigh. 

"Wicked," he grinned, "also, you're learning the game for all the wrong reasons. Quidditch is all about fun, not competition," if Lori were to launch into an argument to prove him wrong, it would never end.  

"You can just admit you love spending time with me, Potter," she nudged him with her elbow, watching a smile sprout on his face, "no need to find excuses."

"Shut up, Lantsov." He rolls his eyes, "meet you in an hour?"

"Fine by me."

✷

        To Lori's disappointment, the snow was beginning to clear. Little had fallen in the last few days but it was as expected of Scotland since winter was nearing an end. It was just sleet, and the clouds were now grey. Rain was most definitely expected soon. 

Saturdays were not Lori's favourite day of the week. She didn't have a lot to do with herself and she felt like she was the only one. Everyone around her seemed to be so active all the time and busy with their lives. Maybe it was because she always did her homework as soon as she got it, meaning there was nothing left for her to do at the weekends, maybe it was because she simply didn't play Quidditch, which is what everyone apparently spoke about like it was always the topic of the conversation.

James always mentioned how his team was practicing at every chance they got, due to his severe drive and need to win the Interhouse cup.

Unlike Lori, Saturdays were James' favourite day of the week. He didn't have to attend lessons for six hours a day, with the addition of Astronomy at an annoying time of night. No homework to do (he left that for Sundays).

But, like Lori, he didn't really have much to do. Quidditch practice only took a small chunk out of his day and he pushed the burden of having to do even more school work till the next, as he had gotten pretty good at procrastination. Parties didn't happen every weekend, nor did something like the Bonfire Bash that had happened almost a fortnight ago. He could only play poker with his mates in the Gryffindor common room oh-so-many times until it got boring.

As his Saturday drew on, he felt like he was wasting it, and soon it would be Sunday: a day guaranteed to be dull. His only solution to carry out an anomaly of a task was Lori. The girl always brought on something unpredictable, challenged him in ways he could not pinpoint. 

After changing into comfortable attire and a lonesome cracker in her hand, she found herself strolling to the field. She noticed a little whirring dot, whizzing about against the dusty mist that was the sky and clouds, just as she ambled by.

It was no doubt who she believed it to be.

Intrigued as to where it could go, she followed the route to the practice pitch, and as she did, the same sailing bullet that was a student on a broom, flew down to meet her when he watched her walk in.

"Right on time," he smiled, touching down, "as always."

"Are we really practicing?" She chuckled dryly, inclining her head, "in this weather?"

"Better than nothing," he grinned back, then he took a step forward to grab her hand, "let's go and find you a broom."

The broom shed was west of the practice pitch and about a minute walk, through the melting snow. Lori understood why none of the other members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team were prepared to go out in such low climates to practice; and the pitch was available ─ no one from any of the other teams seemed to have the same desperate drive Potter did that meant they were willing to play on a snowy Saturday morning.

The two trudged the short distance, muttering broken small talk and short laughs.

Potter stepped aside to let Lori go in first, like the gentleman he is, and followed her in afterward.

The shed was dusty as anything. Cobwebs and dirt really 'finished the room'. The whole thing was in need of a good clean, Lori had thought upon first look.

"Which one do I use?" She laughed, scanning the many spare brooms laid out. 

He followed with a chuckle, "for beginners—"

"Hey! I'm not a 'beginner', I flied wonderfully with you the other day," she defended, then trailing off at the sight of his look that read, 'really?', "Okay so maybe sort of a beginner." She mumbled. 

"I'd use that one, if I were you," he pointed, still grinning, to a rusty, second-hand broom, with sharp straw ends that could quite possibly take someone's eye out.

Lori didn't want to embarrass herself in front of Gryffindor Quidditch captain James Potter, but at this rate, it seemed like she most definitely would.

"Let's just master the basics before you start throwing Quaffles eh?" he smirked, as she eyed the box with the four famous balls.

"The basics, got it." She nodded.

"Mount your broom, then," he laughed after she refused to move.

"Right, right." She clambered onto he broom, James by her side and a hand on her waist in case she tumbles over to the ground, ready to save her as if it were a life-threatening task.

"Now touch off and touch back down again," he instructed.

She leaned forward, hesitantly, trying to make sure her balance was in check before she actually started flying. With a little push from her feet, the broom began rising, and she hovered in the air for just a moment, before touching back down.

"See, not so hard was it?" he teased.

"That was just physics," she scowled, "I'm not that incapable." she faked a smile and he laughed.

"I see. Well, if you're that good, I guess you don't need me. Go ahead, fly away." he taunted, gesturing to the empty pitch before them, before turning away.

"I didn't mean it like that! Hey, Potter, wait!" she said, hopping on one leg to catch up with him, forgetting the broom was underneath her, between her legs, and she felt herself beginning to tilt over.

James had turned back around, never planning on actually leaving her, to catch her just in time, before she could hit the ground.

"Very capable I see," he mocked, with a grin of pride.

"Har, har," she said, their eyes still locked in a trance. He had very beautiful eyes, she noticed.

He helped her to her feet, making sure the broom was out of the way and that she was standing sturdy on two legs.

"Would you like me to continue then, Miss Lantsov?"

She rolled her eyes, and smiled sarcastically, "Oh go on then."

The clouds had gotten greyer, and yet the two of them were very happy to stay out even after an hour.

Lori had definitely made some improvement, and James no longer needed to 'babysit' and stand directly beside her when she flew. She had only managed two or three meters off of the ground, but he was proud in his own way that he was the one to coach her to do so.

She had forgotten about the cold. James was already warm from his practice before, and she had quickly realized how tiring flying and Quidditch can be. She had to give it to Tara; it was sort of hard work.

She was circling the pitch, James straying just behind her, to see her form when the sky was beginning to rumble like it was about to cry.

"I think it might rain!" The Chaser yelled, catching up to her, so he was now flying alongside her.

She was cautious as to how she was meant to get down from this high ─ but it wasn't high at all, just the highest she had gone ─ and her flying had become more tentative.

"Okay, should we call it a day?" she yelled back, not taking her eyes off of her path. James, with a grin on his face, allowed his eyes to linger down to her snow-white knuckles from gripping the broom too tightly. 

Slowly and cautiously, he leaned forward, one hand still holding his own broom and the other boldly placed itself on her hands, his gentle touch instantly made her relax. Not just relax, she felt at solace. It was a strange feeling, really, the feeling of safety. Like she let her guard down, even this high up in the sky, after so long. 

"Relax, Lantsov," he winks once he feels her hands loosening around the broom beneath his fingers. He does everything nonchalantly. 

James had turned back to the entrance of the pitch at her initial words, and she carefully steered in the same direction. She was still wondering how he did it all so effortlessly.

Lori delicately lowered the broom and dismounted whilst it was still moving, earning a laugh from the boy, "Well that's one way to do it."

She gave him a jokey look saying 'shut it' without actually saying it and picked up the fallen broom.

James watched as she stood straight again and the tension arose when she returned the same look.

The rain had now begun to fall, lightly at first, but enough to make his hair damp. She edged forward a bit and gently swept a bit of hair that had fallen over his eyes. It was the bravest thing she had ever done, perhaps, hanging around a Gryffindor is a bad idea. Right?

She watched as his cheeks flushed pinkish, and the water droplets that were now beginning to cover his entire face.

Lori didn't know what she was thinking. This all seemed to twist into a terrible mistake, her guts twisted up. 

A small smile twisted on his lips. His pupils dilated when she bent down — her lips hovered over his cheek before she eventually pressed a kiss to it. Her touch sent a chill down his spine, and he had to force himself to snap out of it. 

James, now standing face-to-face at the same height as her, with his hair cascading down on the sides of his now reddening, dimpled cheeks was full-on taken aback. For about six seconds, he stood there with his jaw slacked, raindrops endlessly sliding into his hazel eyes and yelling at gods above to give him strength to stop grinning like an idiot. 

"What was that?" He half-chuckled, his arms that initially instinctively rested on her hips when she tip-toed now falling to his sides. 

She looked down, trying to hide her smile, avoiding any eye contact and any chance he had of seeing her blush, which she was on the verge of doing.

"Couldn't tell you." she shrugged, "A thank you maybe?" she suggested with a tentative smile, trying her hardest to push aside the unknown feelings boiling up inside of her. The weather wasn't helping. The rain now falling louder and harder than before. Still, in a weak sort of embrace, she looked up. The snow would never settle now, but it was cold enough to freeze the rain. The sky was a scary grey, and the clouds were bulky.

"You're welcome," he beams, "should we go inside before we drown?"

"That's probably best," she nods. For a moment, she thought she may have done a stupid thing but when he grabbed her hand and the pair practically sprinted back to the castles through the icy ground that was now a mixture of mud and the odd floe and through drenching rain, she realised the air was cleared — though the sky above was not.

Both of them were desperately trying not to fall over, holding onto each other for support but also realising that wasn't a good idea because they could bring the other down with them, yet laughing the entire way back. Flashback to the time little James and Lori would always return home drenched in mud from playing in puddles at the park. Some things failed to change between them. 

They said their goodbyes for now. 

James stood at the bottom of the stairs of Ravenclaw Tower with his hands in his pockets, watching up glide up the steps. Lori Lantsov consumed James Potter's mind, as he blinked in an attempt to sort his own thoughts. The cool January air nipped at his cheeks the longer he stood, a frown slowly tugging on his lips. 

It was a frustration like no other, not being able to understand his own feelings. He was trapped in his own mind, and all because Lori Lantsov? Utterly ridiculous! Sure, they would get into loud commotions and rows as young children simply due to their differences but this time? Lori had ruined a very good day of Quidditch with her terrible flying skills, dark curls, and stupid cheek kisses. 

However, when she turned around at the top of the stairs, looking just as beautiful as she did ten seconds ago, he failed to tear his eyes away from her. 

"James?" She called, blinking away the raindrops that clung to her lashes, "the stars fiasco you did last night, it was beautiful... really beautiful." There is no way she was going to shove her ego aside and tell him the action almost had her tearing up because nobody has ever done anything so thoughtful for her before. Just for her, just to see a smile sprout on her lips. 

He smiles softly, shrugging lightly, "moments of beauty." Truth is: James has never put that much thoughts into something either.

𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗮'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 !

me updating this book even tho
everyone's asking for Bolter updates haha. 

let me know what u guys want to see next! 
don't forget to comment for faster updates...