Tapestry

Chapter Six

Lack of courage wasn't normally the sort of thing people associated with James Potter, nor indeed was it the sort of trait the boy connected with himself. He was a Gryffindor, after all. But over the remaining few days of the holidays it was this most prized of qualities that deserted him. He found himself faced with the most difficult of predicaments; with a whole host of questions chasing each other through his head. Unfortunately for James, it seemed there was no way of bringing them up; after all, how do you ask about a secret conversation you shouldn't have heard and a purposeful distancing that you shouldn't have noticed? There just didn't seem to be a way.

There were two aspects to the whole thing, James decided, though he wasn't sure which one bothered him the most. At first, he'd been concerned about the distance and coldness that Dad and Aunt Hermione had put up between each other, fearing that there had been some sort of falling out that might strain relations with that arm of the family. James didn't want to imagine a day when he couldn't turn to his Aunt for advice or comfort; plus, he found the idea of one of his father's oldest and closet friends being alienated from him upsetting. That was bad enough, but the idea that perhaps this was done for a specific purpose, one reasonable and necessary enough for both Dad and Aunt Hermione to think it for the best was a different source of worry altogether. It must have been something major, James concluded, and he was determined to try and get to the bottom of it, just as soon as he could find a plausible way to get involved.

All in all, James found himself quite glad when the time rolled around for him to return to school. At least there he could get away from all this. It was a chilly, grey January morning and all the snow had turned to horrible slush from heavy recent rainfall. After a large breakfast, which Mum insisted they ate, James and Albus wheeled their trunks out to the car where Dad floated them in by magic. James's case was loaded down with all of Aunt Hermione's books and his new Broomstick Servicing Kit and as they were driving towards London James's mind began to be drawn towards offering a proper thank you to the sender of the latter.

In fact, it was the dominant thought in his mind and had been since he'd carefully stowed the purple velvet box in his trunk that morning. With all that had gone on in the last week, Celesca and all things connected with her had been shunted to one side; now that he was on his way to meet up with her again James found he could focus on nothing else. As the pretty countryside gave way to the outskirts of the city, James felt a strange uneasiness as he imagined what he might say to Celesca and how he'd feel seeing her again. It was pleasant and terrifying all at the same time and though James rehearsed in his head his opening lines to her, he was sure that when the time came he would end up saying the wrong thing. This lack of assuredness, so unlike him, was unsettling.

During the trip Mum kept grilling Albus to make sure he'd packed everything.

“You've got all your books?”

“Yes, Mum.”

“And your wand?”

“It's in my back pocket,” said Albus, checking just to be sure.

“You shouldn't keep it there,” said Dad warningly. “You could blow your buttocks off.”

“Did you know someone who blew their buttocks off?” asked Lily.

“Yes,” said Dad seriously. “Gregor McBumless. Scottish lad. Really skinny.”

Lily laughed, Albus looked horrified and James, himself, even managed to tear his thoughts away from Celesca to have a little grin.

“Is that true?” asked Albus quietly.

“No, of course it isn't,” said Mum, smiling sweetly. “Your Dad's just teasing you. His name was Taggart McBumless and he was fat. Until he blew his bum off, obviously.”

Lily screeched with laughter again and Albus finally realised he was being teased and grinned shyly.

“But you did pack your robes?” Mum continued.

“No,” said Albus. He waited long enough for Mum to register the shock before adding, “You did, after Ludey ironed them. Remember?”

“Oh yes, of course,” said Mum, relieved. “And you've got all your socks and pants…”

“MUM!” cried Albus indignantly. Lily was rocking with silent giggles next to him.

“And James, you've got-”

“Everything, Mum,” said James simply. “I packed last night and checked this morning. Stop fussing.”

“I can't, it's what Mum's do.”

Shortly after, they pulled into the car park opposite Kings Cross station. Dad unloaded the car while James and Albus fetched trolleys and raced them back. James won but Albus protested furiously that he had to stop for a car. James ignored this oversight and crowed it over him anyway. As usual, the place was packed with Muggles, many of whom stared at the oversized, ancient-style trunks being wheeled by James and his Dad, though none of them noticed when the whole family disappeared in small groups through a solid brick wall dividing platforms nine and ten.

James was greeted by a billow of smoke from the gleaming scarlet steam engine as he emerged from the magical barrier. He was as glad as ever to see the train and felt the excited surge from deep within that had been a common feature of his trips to Platform 9 and 3/4 ever since his first visit. He moved quickly away as the rest of his family joined him on the platform; he vividly remembered during his third year hanging around too close to the barrier and having Dad rush through and squash him between the trolley he was pushing for a lost-looking first year and James's own. His legs ached appropriately as he remembered the pain.

Once everyone was through, James and Dad led the way along the platform in search of an empty compartment. People called out and waved to Dad as they passed and they had to stop several times for Dad to chat with old friends. A few of Albus's friends came up to greet him and exchange Christmas stories and while the parents chatted, James slipped off, found an empty compartment half way down the train and stowed his trunk safely inside. He returned to say goodbye to Mum and Dad just as a loud toot sounded from the train.

“Have a good term,” said Mum.

“Let me know how the match with Slytherin goes,” said Dad. “See if that Kit of yours makes any difference.”

“Where's Al?” James asked.

“He's gone to a compartment with his friends,” said Dad.

“Sweet, I can get a whole one to myself then,” said James happily. “I'd better go before they leave without me. Don't cry, Lily, I'll send you some sweets from Honeydukes.”

James hugged Mum, Lily and Dad quickly before jumping onto the train. He waved from the window of his compartment until they disappeared around the bend.

The train journey was the most boring James could remember; all things considered, he decided he'd rather be stuck in here with Albus rambling on endlessly than sat quite alone with no company. He had half-hoped that Celesca may come looking for him but after two hours he started feeling sorry for himself and chided himself for thinking she'd want to come and say hello. She was a Prefect, after all, and probably had much more important and enjoyable things to do in the Prefects compartments, which were bound to be far more luxurious than the poxy little box James was wallowing in.

At around one o'clock the lady with the trolley came knocking on the compartment door and James spent an inordinate amount of his gold on as many cauldron cakes, liquorice wands, chocolate frogs and sherbet lemons that he could cram into his arms. He sat and gorged his way through the stash as the hours passed, stopping eventually as he felt very sick after eating what he was certain was a Murtlap-Essence flavoured Bertie Botts Every Flavour Bean. He was about to try and sleep his boredom off when he heard a frightened little voice call out in the corridor.

Thinking that it might have been Albus, James got up and went to investigate. Out in the corridor he saw three boys, who must have been third years, cowering over a small, terrified-looking blond boy, who could only have been a first year judging by his size. He was a weedy little thing and the boys surrounding him were on the hefty side. James entered the corridor just in time to see the bulkiest of them punch the little boy on the nose, breaking the glasses on his face. He looked too scared to even cry and James felt such pity at the intense fear on his face that his anger spilled over.

“Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing?!” he cried out.

The three boys turned, clocked who was talking to them and turned white very quickly. James felt a pang of disgust as he looked at the badges on their robes.

“You're Gryffindors!” he hissed. “What the hell are you doing? You are a shame to our house!”

James rose up to his full and considerable height. One of the bullies fell back and mumbled something that sounded like `mimblewimble'.

“Well?” James thundered, moving to stand between the three third years and the blond boy. “Does none of you have the guts to speak? You are brave enough to gang up on a little kid but you can't speak now? You want to be bullies, try and bully me.”

James drew his wand and pointed it at each of them.

“We're sorry, Mr Potter, sir, but-”

“No buts,” James yelled angrily. “There is no excuse for bullying. This is not the sort of thing Gryffindors do. We behave better than this. I'm ashamed to be in the same house as the likes of you.”

The three boys looked down and James felt a touch of satisfaction that they at least looked sorry.

“You're lucky I don't know your names,” said James. “Otherwise I'd have you all up before Professor Roth. But be assured the Prefects will hear of this.” James lowered his head so his face was close to all of theirs. “And I'll remember your faces; if I see any of you acting this way again you'll have me to answer to. Got it?”

The bullies nodded and James shooed them away. They disappeared down the train and into another carriage where James couldn't see the compartment they entered. He turned to face the little boy behind him.

“You alright, kid?” he asked. He nodded in response, sniffing back a sob. “Is this your compartment?”

James motioned to an empty compartment that the boy was slumped up against and when he nodded again James guided him into it. They sat opposite each other, James feeling tremendous pity for this little thing.

“Are you sure you're alright?” said James. “I can get something for that bruise on your nose.”

“They broke my glasses,” said the boy, his voice as tiny as his fragile frame. He held the two, useless halves of his glasses in his hands, which were still trembling.

“Here, give them to me,” said James. He took the glasses, held them together and pointed his wand at them. “Occulus reparo!”

The glasses were mended with a flash of James's wand.

“Wow, cool!” said the boy, impressed. “Thanks.”

“You know, you shouldn't go around on your own with people like that about,” said James. “No offence, but you are a bit on the puny side. Where are your friends?”

James glanced around as though they were about to pop out of thin air. The boy looked down, his face a mix of sadness and shame. He shook his head meekly.

“What? You…you don't have any?” said James, his pity rising to unprecedented levels. “Any at all.”

The boy shook his head again. “Nobody likes me.”

Just then the door opened and a little girl walked in. James recognised her as Alice, the girl with the lost Pygmy Puff on the last Hogwarts Express journey James took. She grinned as she saw him, remembering their last meeting.

“You haven't lost you pet again, have you?” said James, returning her grin.

“I think my friend hid her on purpose,” said Alice. “She isn't in here, is she?”

“I don't know,” said James. “You'll have to ask little…sorry, mate, I didn't catch your name.”

James saw Alice look in the direction of the blond boy and her face turned to one of disgust.

“Oh, you don't want to know his name,” she said acidly, a voice much unlike the sweet tones she was just using.

“Is - is this yours?” said the boy. He held up a little cage with a pink Pygmy Puff curled up inside.

“Give that to me, you monster!” Alice yelled. “You caged Trevorina!”

“It was trying to roll away,” the boy tried to explain. “I let my owl out and put it in to keep safe. I wasn't trying-”

“I don't care!” cried Alice. “You leave me and me pet alone, you animal. James Potter, I don't know why you're in here with him but you don't want to stay too long with filth like this. It might infect you.”

“That's a horrible thing to say,” said James. “I think you should apologise.”

“I'll never apologise to the likes of him,” said Alice coldly. “Bye, James.”

With that she was gone. James thought he had never been so shocked with the behaviour he'd seen towards this little boy who, from what he could see, was the most timid thing he'd ever come across. He even showed a nice streak, keeping hold of the adventurous Pygmy Puff until its owner came calling, even making room for it at the expense of his own pet.

“Mate - what is your name?” James asked.

“Malfoy,” said the boy. “Scorpius Malfoy.”

With a jolt of disgust that came from way down James suddenly understood the animosity. He was surprised, however, to find that his distaste for what he'd seen greatly outweighed this comprehension.

“Are people always like this to you?” James asked.

“Always,” said Scorpius.

“And you don't have one single friend?”

“Not one,” Scorpius confirmed. “People can't see past my name, you see. I've had it all my life; people look at me and see my Dad and Granddad, even though I'm not like them. I hate all that stuff, Dad does too. My Mum sorted him out and I'm like her, or I try to be. I'm nice, or a least I think I am. I just don't get a chance.”

Of all the things in life James had never expected to happened, to empathise with the son of one of his father's greatest enemies was right up near the top. Ever since he'd been old enough to understand he'd heard stories from Dad, Mum, Uncle Ron, everyone, about how terrible the Malfoy family was. It was a name associated with all things bad in the world. To be sat looking at one and feeling not only sorry for him, but like him, shook James to the core.

“I'm surprised you helped me,” said Scorpius quietly. “What, being who you are, and all. I'd have thought you'd be the last person to stop people hurting me.”

“What happened was wrong,” said James, stoutly. “And if they do anything like that back at school you can come and find me. I've got a lot of pull with the Prefects, they can look after you.”

“Y-you'd do that? For me?”

“Absolutely,” said James sincerely, astonished that he meant every syllable.

“Thanks,” said Scorpius, smiling for the first time. “That's the first time anyone's done anything nice for me since I started here.”

“Don't the other Slytherins like you, though?” said James.

“No, they don't want to be near me either,” said Scorpius. “They'd be tainted by association. My family name will be dirt until people can't remember the War. That won't be in my lifetime.”

James felt so sorry for Scorpius that he wanted to cry out. He saw the same problems for him that he, himself, had suffered, only instead of having to live up to an impossibly high reputation, this little boy had to try and escape a bad one. It seemed a worse situation and James felt immense pity as he visualised a life of struggle for this likeable little kid.

“Look, I'd better get back to my compartment,” said James. “My brother might come looking for me. You going to be alright?”

“Yeah, I've got months of practice behind me already,” said Scorpius bracingly.

“Have you ever thought about telling your dad?” asked James.

Scorpius laughed. “He'd be ashamed and probably pull me out, send me to Durmstrang or somewhere awful like that. I'd rather take my chances here. At least Headmaster Octavian would punish people if something really bad happened to me. I'd probably get blamed over there. Hey - don't tell anyone, will you? I don't want this getting back to my father.”

“I won't say anything,” said James. “But remember what I said - any problems from the Gryffindors and I'll sort them out. Okay?”

“Yeah, thanks,” said Scorpius. “Bye, Mr Potter.”

“Its James,” said James. He nodded at Scorpius then closed the compartment door. He stood in contemplation for a few moments before turning and walking right into-

“Celesca!”

“Hi, James,” said Celesca, her face cracking into a wide smile. “What are you doing out here? I heard there was a commotion, did you see anything?”

“Three third years were bullying that poor kid in there,” said James, pointing to Scorpius's compartment behind. “I sorted it, though.”

“You did?” said Celesca, looking impressed. “We'll make a Prefect out of you yet. But, hang on, isn't that-”

“Yeah, it is.”

“But weren't your dad and his-”

“Yes, they were,” said James. “You aren't going to insult him as well, are you?”

“No, of course not. Why would I?”

“The kids that bullied him were Gryffindors, Celesca,” said James. “Gryffindors. Some of our own. It isn't right.”

“Hold on, you stood up for Scorpius Malfoy to three Gryffindor students?” said Celesca, her face glowing with a warm reverence.

“Well, yeah,” said James, feeling the corridor getting uncomfortably warm all of a sudden. “He's like me; both with famous fathers, though for different reasons; both trying to escape their shadows - both unable to do so. I get what it must be like for him.”

Celesca was looking at James in such a way that he shivered involuntarily. “I think you're doing a good job at stepping out of your fathers' shadow. To me you're much more James Sirius Potter than simply Harry Potter's son.”

James felt this powerful urge to take Celesca and hug her, hold her tight like she was the solace in an ever more confusing life. For a moment he thought she wanted him to as well.

“What is it, James?” she asked breathlessly.

“What?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I'm not,” said James. He smiled. “It's just…nice to see you, that's all. Really nice.”

Celesca beamed, a golden smile crossing her face that James felt blinded by. “It's nice to see you too, James. Look, I have to go and sort out this bullying thing. We can't have that going on and I am a Prefect. But do you want to meet up later back at school? You don't have to if you don't-”

“I do, I'll see you there,” said James. “Now go and tell those kids off.”

Celesca smiled again and passed James slowly. Her hair brushed across his cheek where they passed so close and he closed his eyes at the touch. He watched her walk along the corridor thinking of how Aunt Hermione had gone off to confront a wrong-doer in much the same way; Celesca paused and James's insides started doing somersaults when she looked over her shoulder and sent him a smile that he knew was just for him. He bounced back to his compartment knowing that it wouldn't be long before he was totally at the mercy of this girl.

* * *

When the Hogwarts Express pulled up at Hogsmeade station it was very dark outside. James hung back and waited out the commotion that was everybody scrambling to get off the train. Eventually he did disembark, leaving his luggage at the nearest collection point and moving towards the horseless carriages. He noticed that he was getting some rather strange looks, faces full of disapproval and some even of loathing. Though he thought he could guess the reason he simply glowered back and dared someone to challenge him. He spotted Albus a short way away and joined him.

“Any spare seats in your carriage?” James asked.

“James Potter wants to ride with us?” said an awestruck freckly boy.

“He's just my brother, Dave, jeez,” said Albus, winking at James. They clambered into a carriage, which took off at speed. “So, is it true what you did?”

James looked at Albus, Dave and the two nameless other friends, all looking expectantly at him.

“What?”

“They've been saying all down the train that you stopped Spasticus Malfoy from being beaten up,” said a pointy-faced boy sat next to Albus.

“His name's Scorpius,” said James.

“Whatever,” said the boy. “Is it true?”

“What's your name?”

“Lido Marsh.”

“Well, Lido, you listen closely to me,” said James dangerously. “And this goes for the rest of you, including you little brother. I don't like bullies, I don't like people who think its okay to gang up and pick on the weak. If you want to give anyone a hard time, whether it's Malfoy or anyone else, you'd better do it away from me. I catch you at it and you're mine. I'll be frog-marching you to Professor Roth's office and he can deal with you. I don't care who he is; his dad's done wrong, not him. You should know better, Albus.”

James looked fiercely at his brother who looked utterly ashamed, understanding where James was coming from quickly.

“But he's a Malfoy,” said Lido. “Don't you think that makes him bad?”

“No,” said James. “We choose what to be, not our names. And if you choose to be a bully I'll choose to be a grass and turn you in. I hope that's clear enough - for all of you.”

The carriage skidded to a halt and James jumped out, walking away quickly.

“James, wait!” Albus called, running up behind.

“Wait for what?” said James, rounding on his brother. “Interesting company you keep. I wonder what Mum and Dad would think about that.”

“They're my friends,” said Albus.

“And that makes it alright, does it?”

“But its Malfoy!” said Albus. “It's not a name you want to be linked with.”

“So, by that logic, you think being Potters makes us good or better than everyone else, if being a Malfoy makes Scorpius bad? You think we're Holier than holy and all that? Just because of Dad.”

“What? No. I don't-”

“That's what it sounds like to me.”

“No, James, it's not-”

“Shut up, Al, I don't want to talk to you right now, I can't believe what I'm hearing today.”

James walked off leaving his brother looking hurt and upset. He entered the Great Hall still seething; he passed the Ravenclaw table where Rosie Weasley waved to him.

“Hi, James,” she called.

“Hi, Rosie,” James replied. “Your mum and dad okay?”

“Yeah, great,” said Rose. “Mum sends her love. See you around.”

James walked away and some of Rose's friends whispered excitedly that they couldn't believe she was on speaking terms with Hogwart's biggest luminary. James made his way over to the Gryffindor table, found Richard and sat down next to him.

“You look happy,” said Richard. “Bad Christmas?”

“No, bad trip,” said James, irritably.

“Oh yeah, I heard you were sticking up for Slytherins on the train,” said Richard.

“You want to have a go too?” said James, angrily. “I'm well up for a scrap if you are.”

“Chill out, you nutter,” said Richard. “I think it's good. I was just saying so to Angharad.”

“It was a really good thing,” said Angharad, who had been making googly eyes at Richard when James sat down. “I didn't think you had it in you, to be honest.”

Angharad was smart, beautiful and knew it, making her arrogant and easily dislikeable. James, however, was prepared to look past these defects and accept the veiled compliment. He was in need of support from any source right now.

“Shows you're growing up, mate,” said Richard. “And don't worry, if the rest of the school hates you I'll still talk to you, as long as no-one else sees.”

James thumped Richard on the arm. He might have been a bit of a clown but he was the sort of friend to be relied on.

“So, how'd your Christmas go?” James asked.

“Christmas?” asked Richard, puzzled. “Has it been Christmas already? I hardly noticed. Been busy, you know, with this and that.”

He winked at Angharad who smiled back seductively.

“Oh I see,” said James, grinning. “How's the broom cupboard looking now?”

“Dark and full of mops,” said Richard. “Ah, food.”

The table groaned as dishes of innumerable varieties appeared from the kitchens and weighed them down. James, whose sweet-induced sickness had long worn off, found himself suddenly famished. He loaded his plate with chicken wings, potato wedges, chips and something green and dived in.

“Did I miss much at yours over Christmas, then?” asked Richard.

James nearly choked on whatever mix of items was in his mouth. He swallowed hard. “Nah, it was boring. Usual stuff, you know.”

James didn't want to tell Richard about Dad and Aunt Hermione; it was a personal thing that he needn't know of. The rest of the meal was spent listing the presents they'd received and thanking each other for the things they'd bought for one another. After dessert, the Headmaster welcomed everyone back for a new term and sent them off to bed. The melee of students rushing for the doors was always a haphazard affair and James, whose bladder was signalling to him, hung back until he could get through without being bashed from pillar to post. He slipped into the first floor bathroom and by the time he emerged the place was empty. Well, almost empty.

“Good evening, James.”

James froze; he always did in the presence of Seren Octavian, the Headmaster, though he never knew why.

“Evening, sir,” James replied.

“I was just passing and I thought what a pleasant night it was for a stroll to Gryffindor Tower,” said the Headmaster. “Care to escort me?”

“Certainly, sir,” said James cautiously. They walked upstairs in silence, Professor Octavian looking contented as if this were a regular activity for him.

“I understand that you performed an act of heroism on the Hogwarts Express,” said the Headmaster presently.

“How do you-”

“Allow an old man his secrets, Master Potter,” said Professor Octavian with a smile. “It was a noble act, befitting of the son of a most illustrious man.”

“Yes, sir,” said James.

“I never had the pleasure of knowing your father,” Professor Octavian went on. “But his deeds speak of him as the best of men. I'm sure he would approve of your actions in this case.”

“I suppose so,” said James. He wasn't sure where this was going.

“You are perhaps wondering why we are having this conversation. I overheard several remarks regarding what happened, none of them praising you. To stand up to your peers, your fellow classmates, even to your friends, takes great courage. As does doing what is right; it isn't always easy to do the right thing, but then it isn't always right to do the easy thing. You showed your worth by taking the hardest path but still doing what was right. Helping a supposed enemy against your friends, simply because it was right to do so, is an enormous selfless act. You are to be commended.”

“Thank you, sir,” said James. He felt buoyed by the support of the Headmaster, who had something powerful about his air. They stopped and James noticed they were at the portrait hole. “Oh no, I didn't learn the password.”

“I believe it is Witherwings, this term,” said Professor Octavian. “Though I could be wrong.”

“Witherwings,” said James to the portrait of the Fat Lady. The picture swung back to reveal the circular entrance to the Common Room.

“I shall say goodnight then, Mr Potter,” said the Headmaster.

“And to you, sir,” said James, before turning and clambering in.

The room was largely empty with only a handful of students still mulling around. Richard was one of them.

“Where did you get to?” he asked. “You disappeared in the crowd.”

“Went for a pee,” said James.

“Too much information,” said Richard. “Stop there.”

“Then I met up with Professor Octavian and he walked me up to the portrait hole,” James added.

“You went for a slash then met the Headmaster who walked you up here?” said Richard. “I think I had too much sugar at dinner. I'm turning in before you tell me you saw fluorescent penguins marching towards the dungeons.”

“I'll be up shortly,” said James. “Just have to herd in some penguins I saw, too.”

Richard guffawed and disappeared upstairs and James took the old, battered seat by the fire. He waited while a couple of second years exchanged some chocolate frog cards; waited while one sixth year girl dried her newly polished nails in the fire; waited while one first year Muggle-born read out his collection of dreadful Cracker jokes; waited, in fact, until all the other students had made their way to bed and he was left alone by the fire.

Exactly why he was waiting he didn't know. By meeting up back at school, Celesca surely hadn't meant at midnight when there was no-one else around. Come to think of it, she hadn't even said when or where. She could have meant tomorrow for all James knew, which, now he thought of it, made more sense. But he wasn't that tired, so instead of heading upstairs he curled up on the chair and watched the fire as it slowly began to dwindle.

When he thought he'd stayed up long enough, James rose to leave. As he did so he heard muffled footsteps on the stairs. His heart began to beat hard and he counted the stairs as the footsteps drew nearer. Finally they were right outside the staircase entrance; one more step and whoever it was would emerge. James watched as they did so.

“I was hoping you might still be up.”

It was Celesca, in a mint-green dressing gown and slippers. James thought she looked adorable.

“I was just about to turn in,” he said, his mouth oddly dry.

“Oh, I'm sorry, I don't want to keep you up,” said Celesca, her voice sounding fine but her eyes betraying her disappointment.

“I didn't say I was going to turn in, just that I was about to,” said James. “I'm glad I caught you. I wanted to talk to you.”

“You did?” said Celesca. She sounded nervous.

“Yeah,” said James. “I wanted to say thank you for the Christmas present. You really shouldn't have.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” said Celesca brightly. “Did you like it?”

“Like it? I love it! It's amazing. It's probably the best present I've ever had.”

Celesca beamed and blushed at once. “Well, I'm glad.”

“I just feel awful that I didn't get you anything,” said James. “I'm too dense to have thought to.”

“Oh, that doesn't matter,” said Celesca. “It was a surprise; I just had to get it.”

“I promise I'll make it up to you,” said James.

“There's no need for that,” said Celesca, shyly.

“Who said anything about need?” said James. “I want to.”

“Oh…”

They looked at each other for a few moments, James feeling that urge to hug her stronger than ever.

“Did you, um, manage your homework?” said Celesca, awkwardly.

“Yeah, I even re-wrote some, can you believe that?” said James. They both chuckled. “Did you, er, get my card?”

“Ooh, yes, it was lovely to hear from you,” said Celesca quickly. She blushed so scarlet she might have been glowing. “I mean, for my aunt, you know, knowing your mum and dad and stuff.”

“Oh, right, yeah,” said James. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“What do you mean?” Celesca said, fear in her voice.

“Those Long-toothed whatsits?” said James.

“Oh right!” said Celesca, her shoulders dropping in relief. “No. I don't think they're real to be honest.”

They stood awkwardly silent again. James cursed himself in his mind; it just wasn't like him to be stuck for something to say.

“I think I'm going to go up,” he said, giving in to his own frustrations. “It is late, classes early, and everything.”

“Yeah, you're right,” said Celesca. She looked as disappointed in herself as James felt frustrated. “Goodnight, James.”

She turned and moved quietly upstairs. James took the boys staircase and slipped into the dormitory. Everyone else was asleep; Richard's rhythmic snoring from the next bed masking any noise James was making getting undressed. He lay awake for some time reflecting on his conversation with Celesca. He hadn't known how to act with her or what to say, but instead of keeping it simple he thought he might have made things worse. The last thing he wanted was to be in an awkward situation when it came to her, but then she hadn't exactly made things easy. There was only one thing to be done - face it like a man and damn the consequences. Ordinarily he'd try to think what Dad would do and follow that lead; however, Dad and his relationship conduct was hardly a good model just now. James knew one thing for certain on that score; whatever happened, however bad things could be, he would never choose to be alienated from Celesca. Some things were just too horrid to contemplate.

-->