Tapestry

Author Note: I would just like to take a few moments to say thank you to everyone who's read, and hopefully, enjoyed my story so far. 13'000 hits for six chapters for an author not renowned on Portkey is humbling and I want to say thanks. Special thanks also to everyone who's taken the time to offer a review, I really appreciate the feedback. It's good to know my bizarre idea has taken off so well. Now that I've jinxed it by saying that, here's the next instalment….thanks

Chapter Seven

The first day back at Hogwarts after a holiday was always a sluggish affair with new timetables to acclimatise to, more work as exams drew nearer and the general settling in to a regime different to that which had existed at home. For James, however, it became quickly apparent that the problems he would have to face this term would be of a very different nature and something he had little or no experience of before.

He had always accepted the depth of loathing which existed in relation to families like the Malfoy's, and any other associated with the `Dark side' in the Second War. He had considered it as just another vague natural phenomenon, like the changing of the seasons or the bizarre way that girls tended to go to the bathroom in groups. Now, however, James realised for the first time just how intense that dislike was. It was a pure, no frills, hatred and James, for the crime of defending Scorpius Malfoy, was feeling it speared in his direction as though it were he who had committed the atrocities those families were so reviled for.

In the Common Room, the first signs that James's star was beginning to wane began to show. Two of the bullies from the train were sat with a larger group of friends and each of them shot James the dirtiest of looks as he passed. He even swore he heard the word `traitor' muttered under someone's breath, though he couldn't identify a culprit to punish. Down in the Great Hall things weren't any better; faces turned in his direction, whispers breaking out near the door then passing like bush fires from table to table, turning the looks on the students' faces to overwhelming scorn. James swept past them and slid down beside Richard at the Gryffindor table.

“How's your back?” asked Richard.

“Fine, why?” asked James, puzzled.

“We were just wondering if you had any knives in it,” said Michael Charteris, one of their dorm mates, who was sat opposite. “You might just have blown your chances of being prom king.”

“What's a prom king?” asked James.

“You should learn some Muggle things,” said Michael. “It'd save me so much time trying to explain these jokes to you.”

“Just stick to magic things then,” said James. “We can all laugh then.”

“You should hear some of things people have been saying about you,” said Richard. “I never thought they'd all react as badly as this. It's mental.”

James heard some whispering behind him; he couldn't make out what was being said but, judging but the acid tones, he thought he preferred it that way.

“Something on your mind?” said Michael, looking angrily at the whisperers. “This is nuts. I wouldn't have done what you did, James; I agree with it, it's all very noble and that, but the grief you're going to get is astronomical. You're a bigger man than me.”

“Yeah, well I knew that anyway,” said James. “I've seen you in the showers.”

“Keep it clean, lads,” said Richard. “I'm trying to keep my cornflakes down over here.”

A great whoosing sound suddenly filled the hall as about a hundred owls swooped in delivering the morning post. James took the distraction as a chance to look up; he glanced along the table and spotted Celesca half the length of the table away. She was unfurling a copy of the Daily Prophet that had just been dropped into her plate of scrambled eggs. She didn't look up and James felt his heart sinking.

“Don't worry, mate,” said Richard so only James could here. “I'm sure she won't be one of the ones ignoring you.”

“No?”

“Not a chance,” said Richard. “She threatened to hex one kid in the Common Room earlier who called you a Pureblood-loving…well, you can imagine.”

“She did?” said James, whose heart suddenly felt like it had drunk a can of Crimson Boar, and now had wings. “Wonder why she looks so mad, then.”

“Probably because of what everyone's saying,” said Richard. “She's not the most expressive sort, but I reckon she's pretty sweet on you.”

After that all the criticisms seemed to just bounce off. James finished breakfast and made his way to the first lesson of the day, Potions, blissfully unaware of the snide comments and dirty looks being thrown his way. Richard was saying something about homework but James had mind only for the space several metres behind where Celesca and her friends were winding the same path down to the dungeons.

Professor Zabini had already chalked up instructions for the day's lesson on the blackboard and lit the fires under all the cauldrons around the room when the class filed in. James and Richard sat near the back and the former nearly whooped with delight at seeing Celesca and her friend, Cassie Case, slide into the desk directly behind. As was the protocol for the class, everyone soon had quills and parchment out scribbling down the lines from the blackboard. James only just managed to jot the last few instructions down when the Professor strode into the room and shut the door.

“You have had plenty to time to copy down what I've set you for today,” he said, taking his wand and wiping the blackboard clean. “This is a highly simple Pimple Perishing Solution, something I can see several of you in here are in great need of. This is a pairs exercise; one of you will produce the potion to create facial blemishes, the other the solution to remove them. I will have a test pair at the end of the class; let's see…Potter and his partner. I think the rest of you will approve of his being used as a guinea pig, if the rumours around the school are anything to go by. Begin.”

James shrugged and looked bracingly at Richard.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Don't you dare be sorry,” said Richard loudly, so that several students nearby turned around. “What you did was right; if these others can't see it they're a bunch of fu-”.

“You will check your foul language at the door, Mr Rees,” said Professor Zabini, who'd swept silently up to their table. “Potter has inherited the desire to make a show of himself wherever he goes. It doesn't matter if he's loved or loathed, just as long as he isn't anonymous. And if you fail to produce an adequate Perishing Solution he will go around with his pimples as a punishment on your behalf. I suggest you get to work.”

He moved away. James felt an awful lump in his throat and the longing to just disappear. Richard had never been the best potion brewer and the chances of him getting this one right were remote. Just when James was feeling despair settle on him he picked up on a whispering behind him.

“Why has Professor Zabini got to be so horrid to him all the time?” Celesca was saying quietly. “It isn't fair.”

“Aww, sticking up for your lover, how cute,” Cassie replied.

“He isn't my lover,” said Celesca.

“No, you're just madly in love with him,” said Cassie.

“Sshh, he'll hear you!”

“So what? I'm sure he knows already. Everyone else does. I should tell him because you don't seem to have the guts to do it yourself.”

“Don't you say a word,” said Celesca.

“Are you sure? I could do it now.”

“Cassiopeia, don't you dare,” said Celesca.

“Don't call me Cassiopeia,” hissed Cassie. “I hate being called that. And you know it.”

“Then keep your voice down,” said Celesca. “Or better still, your mouth shut. I'll throw this Perfect Pimple Draught down your throat otherwise.”

“Okay, little Miss Touchy,” said Cassie. “I was just trying to do you a favour.”

James looked over at Richard who grinned back and made several lewd gestures with his face and hands. James kicked him under the table. Unable to resist, James turned around anyway. Celesca blushed madly as they looked at each other.

“Can I borrow your pestle?” he asked her innocently. “I need to, um, grind something down.”

“Sure,” said Celesca, smiling sweetly.

“Thanks,” said James. He took the pestle. “I won't be long with it.”

“Take you time,” said Celesca. They looked at each other intently for several moments and James was transported back to the dinner table at Sparrow's Nook where two other people, who he realised greatly resembled Celesca and himself, had shared a similar gaze. He turned around and smiled inwardly as he went back to work. Over his shoulder, the two girls were whispering again.

“Take your time?” Cassie was saying. “That's the best you could come up with?”

“Oh, go boil your head,” said Celesca.

When Professor Zabini announced later that they were to stop what they were doing, James grimly faced up to his fate.

“Right,” he said. “Mine's supposed to be white. It's grey, but that's close enough. It should do. What about yours?”

“Well…” said Richard shakily. “I think it's okay.”

“What should it be like?”

“Light blue and like ink,” said Richard, reading his parchment.

“And what it is?”

“Er, Blood orange and lumpy.”

“Ah…” said James. “Close then.”

They both smirked. “Sorry, I don't know what I did wrong.”

“Don't worry,” said James. “Just remember to stick up for me when I get laughed at in the corridors.”

James didn't want to envisage that situation, even though he could see it on the horizon in the very near future.

“Potter, Rees - up here, please.”

James rose slowly and walked up to the front desk with his sample of solution. He handed it to the Professor.

“Surprisingly close,” said Professor Zabini, examining the potion. “I suppose you only added the stems and not the seeds of the Ephorus plant?”

James sighed at his mistake. “Yes, sir. I forgot.”

Professor Zabini was hard on his students, but he was big enough to acknowledge when they had performed well or at least to his standards.

“A decent effort, Potter,” he said. “An E grade. This was the more difficult of the two potions to brew, a prime example of why I find you so infuriatingly frustrating. Pay more attention next time.”

“Yes, sir,” said James.

“And what do we have here,” said Professor Zabini, spooning a glob of Richard's potion into the air. Where it had cooled it had congealed to an even thicker consistency. James felt his stomach turn at the thought of those horrible textures in his mouth. “It is a shame the grades only go to T, Mr Rees. I can't begin to imagine what you did with this. Appalling effort. Still, we have a demonstration to carry out.”

Professor Zabini approached James and poured his potion into a shallow dish. With a rough shaving brush he proceeded to smear the greyish substance all over James's face. He didn't need a mirror to gauge the results; if the little pin-prick jolts all over his skin weren't enough to go by the unsubtle chortling from the rest of the class would have done the trick.

“Proof of your grade, Potter,” said Professor Zabini. “Spot size is fine but they have no septic heads. Ephorus seeds contain toxins which irritate the skin; they would have added this missing part of these spots. Now, for the…well, solution.”

Several people laughed as Professor Zabini held up the orange goo. A few people nearby muttered that James was never going to drink it. He turned and glared at them, as though amazed they dared to challenge him. They reeled back from the ferocity of his gaze.

“I think we all know this is going to be unsuccessful,” said Professor Zabini. “I may be charitable and forego the pain of seeing you drink this.”

“No, sir,” said James defiantly. “A demonstration you said. This potion has been made and at least deserves a chance to work.”

Professor Zabini looked oddly at James, an expression that might have contained a trace of respect but it was something so alien to that face that he wouldn't have recognised it even if it smacked him in the mouth.

“Very well, but it is your choice. I advise you against it.”

“Give me the spoon,” said James. He scooped up the substance, sickened at how heavy it felt on the spoon. He could sense the class on the edge of their seats, wondering if he was really going to do it. “Bottoms up.”

James plunged the spoon into his mouth to the collective gasps of the students watching. He heaved at the first taste, which was easily the worst thing that had ever assaulted his mouth, which was saying something after fifteen years of Mum's concoctions. He swallowed hard, taking several lumps of it down his throat, which burned fiercely as the stuff passed. James continued to try and keep the thing down at the same time as trying not to vomit. Even Professor Zabini looked slightly green at James's struggles. Eventually, after several excruciating minutes, the whole mouthful was gone. Not surprisingly, however, the pimples remained.

“I think that's enough,” said Professor Zabini. “Each of you are to label your potions and leave them on my desk as you leave.”

The bell sounded and James, now back at his table, began to pack away. People passed, looking at him as if he were half-mental or otherwise looking impressed at his display. Either way it beat being looked at like the world's biggest turncoat. James didn't dare look towards Celesca; he knew she had seen him in all his pimply glory but he didn't think he could stand to look her in the face right now. Oddly enough, though, when she scooped her potion into the vials for marking he was sure he saw her hand slip something into her pocket. He made his escape while the rest of the students were handing in their work.

“I can't go around looking like this,” James whispered to Richard. “I'm going to skip Herbology and hide. I'll try and make it up to the Hospital Wing when everyone's at lunch. Make an excuse for me to Longbottom.”

“Will do,” said Richard.

James darted between the desks and into the corridor. At least down here in the dungeons it was dark and people didn't notice James's new facial additions and he sped past. He reached the top step of the spiral staircase and looked out into the Entrance Hall; luckily there didn't seem to be many students about. James made a run for it; those students who did see him were either too surprised by his sudden appearance to notice anything or else didn't have a chance to get a good look as he flew past. He scampered up the stairs, stopping only when the portrait of the Fat Lady was in front of him.

“Witherwings,” he panted.

“What has happened to your face?” the portrait asked.

“Just be quiet and let me in,” said James.

“Very well,” said the portrait, swinging open. It muttered something about moody teenagers and James scrambled inside and rushed to the dormitory staircase and up into the safety of his room.

In the chill of the dormitory James paced up and down wondering what to do. First of all he had to face the situation; he pulled open the door of his wardrobe and looked in the full length mirror. It wasn't a pretty sight.

“What are you doing to yourself?” the mirror asked. “Spattergoit?”

“No, bad potion…well, good potion actually,” said James glumly. “Bad antidote.”

He closed the door and sat on his bed feeling very sorry for himself. It had been a rotten start to the new term, what with everyone hating him, for doing what he thought was a good deed, and now looking like a St Mungo's escapee. Things surely couldn't get any worse. Just then, there was a small knock on the door. Whoever it was didn't wait for an invitation and came straight in. James, thinking that it must be bad news with the way his luck was going, dived under his covers to hide himself.

“I know you're under there, James. Will you please come out?”

“Celesca?” said James. He lowered the quilt so that his eyes poked out over the top. “What are you doing up here? And how come you can get into the boys dorms?”

“Not sure,” said Celesca. “The stairs must think girls are more trustworthy.”

There was something sultry in her words that suggested she didn't quite agree with the magical staircases' view of things. James shuddered under the heavy quilt.

“Will you stop hiding, please?” said Celesca.

“No, I don't want yo…I don't want to be seen like this,” said James.

“But I've already seen it,” said Celesca gently. “I was there, in class, remember?”

“Doesn't matter,” said James. “I'm staying here.”

“Then you won't be able to drink this,” she said. She took out a little vial from the pocket on her robes, inside which was a bright, silvery-blue liquid.

“What is that?” James asked.

“It's a sample of my Perishing Solution,” she said, offering it to him. “It'll work on those spots of yours, I promise.”

James, who would never doubt Celesca's potion-making talents, lowered the quilt slowly and took the vial from her. He drank it in one; it tasted of cinnamon and vanilla. Almost immediately, James could feel the heat from the angry spots die away and in a few minutes they were all gone. He smoothed his face several times and checked in the mirror, just to make sure.

“There, all better,” said Celesca.

“Celesca Shaw I think I love you,” said James without thinking as he admired his reflection. He closed the wardrobe door quickly in case Celesca saw the change in expression on his face.

“That's nice to know,” said Celesca.

James turned and saw her face was crimson, matching the colour of the curtains behind.

“Look, Cel, about last night -”

“You don't have to say anything,” said Celesca quickly. “It was my fault.”

“What did you do? I made you feel awkward. It was all me. I'm sorry.”

“Maybe we both took it in turns to be at fault,” said Celesca grinning. “Though I don't know why it happened. We're friends, right? Why should we be awkward?”

She was obviously fishing for James to take the lead; he'd seen it before with other girls and had swallowed the bait, but this time he didn't know how to. He was completely lost.

“Friends, yeah, don't know why we'd be awkward,” he said disjointedly. He could have cursed himself at the look of resigned disappointment on Celesca's face at his words. He knew what he really wanted to say but just couldn't get the words out.

“Shall we get down to Herbology?” she asked, her voice unnaturally croaky. “We might not have missed much.”

“Class, yeah, good idea,” said James. He jumped up and followed Celesca out of the dorm and down to the Common Room. Several astonished faces turned their way, then snapped back to gossip about what they might have been doing. Someone even wolf-whistled at them. James didn't think he could feel any worse.

Celesca led the way down the stairs towards the ground floor. The silence between them was as thick as Richard's potion and James knew that if he didn't speak now he may never get another chance, the damage might have been too great.

“Celesca, wait,” he spat out. It wasn't the best way to start but at least it had begun.

“Yes?” she asked, her eyes full of expectancy.

“I can't just go to class and leave things like this,” said James.

“Like what?”

“Like this,” said James desperately, gesturing at thin air with his hands. “All strained and weird, you know…between us.”

“But we're friends, we shouldn't have any -”

“No, we're not friends,” said James. “Not really, are we?”

“I think of you as my friend,” said Celesca, looking slightly affronted.

“Is that all?” said James, suddenly fearing he'd misread Celesca's feelings. “Because…that isn't enough for me. Whatever we are it isn't friends…it's more than that. To me, anyway.”

“I-it is?” said Celesca. “But I thought…after what you said…”

“I just don't know what to say,” said James. “Not to you.”

She smiled that beautiful smile at him and he felt it run through his body.

“I'm the one who doesn't know what to say, or what to do,” said Celesca shyly. “I don't have much experience with, you know, boys and things.”

“That makes two of us,” said James, smirking.

“I'm being serious,” said Celesca poking him. “This is all new to me. I don't know what to think, what's going on, I can't read signals. I'm lost and confused. You're supposed to know about this stuff.”

“Well, I know I've had a girlfriend or two,” said James.

“That's being economical,” said Celesca.

“You're making me sound like the Whore of Hogwarts,” said James in mock indignity.

“You have done the rounds, to be fair,” said Celesca.

“True, true,” James agreed.

“I just don't know what I'm supposed to do or say or anything,” said Celesca helplessly. “It's uncharted territory and books are no help. None of this is familiar to me.”

James stepped closer to her, his heart pounding beneath his ribs. When he spoke he kept his voice rather low. “I know I've had a few girls on my arm in my time but it was never like this. Like it is right now. This is new for me, too. I'm as confused as you are. I'm scared out of my wits half the time and so excited I could burst the rest. This is the first time it's been like this.”

“Like what?” said Celesca breathlessly. But James didn't get time to answer.

“Ooh, wee Potty the Second, skipping class and cavorting in the corridors. I should tell, I should.”

“Peeves!” hissed James. “Get lost.”

“Potty Potter,

Not a lotta,

Brains or sense,

He's really dense,

He smells so bad,

You must be mad,

Miss whatever your name is…what rhymes with that?”

“Peeves,” yelled James, turning red as the manic ghost began with a second verse. “Shut it!”

“Come on, James,” cried Celesca. She grabbed his arm and pulled him through the main door and they ran down to Herbology before Peeves could round up a chorus for an encore.

“I'm really sorry,” said James. “That'll be the school anthem before dinner. I'm dragging you into a world where everyone hates me.”

“Sod them, I don't hate you,” said Celesca, catching her breath. “I quite fancy you, actually.”

Then she did something she'd never done before and kissed him quickly on the cheek. Blushing furiously, she straightened her robes and entered the greenhouse. It took James several minutes to compose himself before he felt mastered of his emotions enough to follow her.

Upon entering the greenhouse James moved quickly across the space towards Richard and Michael, who were busy pruning poisonous spikes from the leaves of a Devil's Snare. Heads turned towards James, no doubt wanting to catch a glimpse of his acne-ridden face. So many eyebrows shot into the air when they saw his face was normal that it looked like the whole class had just been blasted by a strong wind.

“I didn't expect to see you today, James,” said Professor Longbottom, coming over. “The whole class has been talking about your Potions lesson. I expected you to be popping zits from now until your O.W.L's. What happened?”

“I went up to the hospital wing,” James concocted. “Miss Evesham had some potion that got rid of the spots right away. I know I'm late but I thought I'd come down anyway, make what I can of what's left.”

“That's a good attitude,” said Professor Longbottom approvingly. “Have you managed to finish your homework yet?”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot about that,” said James. “It's in my bag. Hang on.”

“You can just hand it in as you leave,” said Professor Longbottom. “On a personal note, did you have a good Christmas? How are the family, all well?”

“It was fine, sir, thank you,” said James politely. “Mum and Dad said to say hello.”

“You went to Ron and Hermione's didn't you?” Professor Longbottom continued. “How were they?”

For a moment James thought to ask the Professor if he had any idea what secret pact Dad and Aunt Hermione might have made; he was in school with them, after all, and fought in the Second War so might have an inkling. He thought better of it, though, when he realised that it was a secret pact that only the two involved knew of. It seemed the best course of action not to arouse suspicion. He noted it as a possibility for the future.

“They were okay, busy with the kids and whatever,” said James.

“We were going to stop by at some time,” said Professor Longbottom, “but my daughter has this hyperactive Pygmy Puff that barely stays still for five minutes. It might have tried jumping out the car window if we took it anywhere. I'd still be searching the hedgerows of Kent if we'd come. I'll have to write to your Mum and explain.”

James smirking at the image of Professor Longbottom crawling around on all fours in the mud at the side of the motorway searching for the ambitious magical pet. He could only manage a, “Yes, Sir,” by way of reply.

“You could call me Neville, you know,” said Professor Longbottom.

“Not at school, during term time,” said James. “It wouldn't be right.”

“Well don't say I didn't offer. I also heard about your exploits on the train. My daughter said she saw you sat with Scorpius Malfoy, but when I heard what you had done…I was surprised, pleasantly so, but surprised all the same. It was a big and brave thing; your father would be proud of you.”

“Thanks,” said James. He almost told Professor Longbottom of the horrible attitude and words his daughter had used in relation to poor Scorpius but, this too, he thought better of.

The class continued. James felt the heat of the spotlight as faces kept turning his way, though he couldn't tell if their meanings were good or bad. He wasn't even sure of the reasons they were looking at him; was it still the scorn of helping a Malfoy, or had that been tempered by those who heard Professor Longbottom's support of it? He was a popular teacher, after all. Perhaps they were wondering where his spots had gone, disappointed that he didn't look like such a sideshow freak or impressed at the way he'd forced down Richard's potion or managed to rid himself of the blemishes anyway. Or, which induced in James the greatest anxiety, were people talking about what has happened with Celesca? Did they somehow know or had they seen? Was she going to have to suffer teasing on his behalf? It was too much to think on at once.

Lunch followed Herbology and James and Richard had the luxury of a free period after that. They were supposed to use this time for extra study and homework but generally spent it engaged in fierce struggles over a wizard's chess board or else lounging about in the chairs. James, who's mind could think of nothing else but the spot on his cheek, which was still tingling over an hour after Celesca's kiss, was dying to say something. Has fortune would have it, Richard's line of conversation gave him the perfect excuse.

“How did you manage to get rid of those spots so quickly?” he asked. “Remember when I had that acne breakout a few years back? It took ages for the Matron to find the right cure, but you were back down in twenty minutes.”

James looked around the Common Room just to check it was still empty. “Well, to tell you the truth, Celesca came and found me. She'd pocketed some of the stuff she'd made in class. Cleared me up right away.”

“Oh, so that's why she was late as well,” said Richard. “But wait a minute - that potion was supposed to work in seconds; what exactly were you doing the rest of the time?”

“We, er, had a little chat,” said James.

“About what?” asked Richard, his attention aroused.

“This and that,” said James coyly. “Mostly about how we like each other. She told me she fancied me and we, sort of, kissed.”

“You kissed her?” said Richard, now sat bolt upright. “On the lips?”

“No, well, she sort of kissed me,” said James, his cheeks aflame.

“On the lips?” Richard repeated.

“No, on the cheek,” said James. “What is it with you and the lips?”

“Oh, you can just tell more if its on the lips.”

“You don't half talk some rubbish sometimes,” said James.

“Maybe, but are you telling me you got together?” said Richard. “It's about bloody time. Nice one!”

“We aren't together,” said James. “Hang on - what are you on about?”

“Come off it, JSP!” Richard exclaimed. “You've been dancing around each other for years. Anyone who's ever half flirted, who's ever heard of flirting knows that. Ever since the day you met, you remember that?”

“On the Hogwarts Express,” said James distantly. “First year. I trod on her foot in the corridor. She said I was a toad.”

“Okay, so not the most romantic start but it got better,” said Richard. “I bet you hardly anyone will be surprised when they hear you're going out.”

“But we're not going out,” said James.

“Give it time,” said Richard. “Some things are meant to be. Or at least they'd better be; I made an accumulator bet with Mickey Charteris that you and Celly would get together. Got higher with each year. Started at ten, but it's up to forty galleons now. I'm expecting a pay day soon buddy.”

James felt in shock. His best friend had seen, for years apparently, that there was something between Celesca and himself, and James had been too dense to notice it. He wondered what it was he'd been doing with his thoughts, unable to think back to a time when Celesca wasn't the first and most important thought on his mind.

“Why didn't you say anything?” asked James.

“About what?”

“About what you thought about Celesca and me,” said James.

“I couldn't,” said Richard. “I wouldn't be right. Besides, I didn't think it fair on the poor girl to push a dumb oaf like you towards her before you realised what was there yourself.”

“Quite a romantic at heart, aren't you?”

“Yeah, just don't spread it around,” said Richard. “I have a rep to keep up. We can't all risk public derision and still come out of it a winner.”

James sunk back into his chair feeling a sort of contented chill sweep over him. Richard, as a good male friend is want to do, soon put an end to this.

“So, what are you doing to do now?”

James tensed up. “What do you mean?”

“Well you can't just leave it,” said Richard. “A peck on the cheek is the start; to be honest, I'm amazed it was Celesca who made the first move. That's not normally your style, Mr Stud Muffin. But the ball's in your court, now, so what's your next move?”

Next move? With Celesca? James hardly knew. He hadn't been lying when he had told her this was as totally a new experience for him as it was for her. All his previous dalliances with girls counted for nothing; this was new ground and the risks were that much higher. If something had happened before, and the girl in question had told James to get stuffed, it wouldn't have mattered - there would have been another one waiting in the wings. But something had changed in him and this approach was totally inappropriate, he now realised. It wouldn't work with Celesca; if he did something to lose her there would be no girl anywhere who could even come close to being an adequate replacement.

James had little time to panic too much about what to do as the bell rung to signal the end of their leisure time.

“What have we got next?” he asked, trying to take his mind off his new worries.

“Damn it, History of Magic,” said Richard, unfolding his timetable. “Boring Binns and his soporific voice.”

“Soporific?” said James. “That's a long word.”

“So is mile,” said Richard. James looked puzzled. “I knew you wouldn't get it, you thick Norman. Come on, let's get this over with.”

They grabbed their bags and made their way to the History of Magic classroom. Oddly, the corridor outside was buzzing with anticipation; James had the fleeting fear that it was all to do with him and that some new element was going to make him the centre of attention yet again. He needn't have worried.

“What's going on?” Richard asked Cassie Case, who was standing nearby.

“We've got a special class,” explained Cassie. “Guest speaker. I can't wait. I love her.”

“Who is it?” asked James.

“You'll see, it's a great surprise.”

“Hi, James,” said Celesca shyly, poking her head around from behind Cassie.

James felt his heart swell and pump hard as he looked at Celesca; he couldn't be sure, and it didn't make much sense, but he would have sworn she got prettier every time he saw her. He could barely hold eye contact with her she had become so dazzling.

“H-hiya, Celesca,” James stumbled. Cassie looked imploringly at him, then at Celesca, who was shining scarlet with embarrassment, too. Her eyes widened as her feminine intuition clicked in and she smiled warmly at James.

Just then the classroom door opened and the students were called inside. James was all of a flutter and felt he had to conquer whatever it was that was dominating him so before it turned him into a jibbering jelly. The class took their seats (James trying not to think about looking to his right, where Celesca had rushed Cassie into an empty, adjacent table) and Professor Binns spoke in his droning monotone.

“I have been informed that my usual class is today to be replaced by a special guest lecture. This is part of a promotional book tour by the writer of the best-selling book, Hogwarts - The REAL History. Whether this is as accurate as my notes,” he pointed to a large stack of papers on his desk, “will remain to be seen. Please welcome the guest speak, Miss…sorry, I forgot your name.”

A grey haired woman with large spectacles breezed into the room. Despite her age she was heavily made up and adorned with an array of bangles, rings and pendants. Her lilac-coloured robes billowed behind her as she glided to the front desk, smiled a wide, false-toothed smile and brandished a copy of the book Professor Binns had mentioned.

“Don't fret about my name, Professor,” she swooned. “My reputation speaks for itself, what with twenty-five years of hard hitting journalism and countless awards behind me. But for those of you who don't know, and just to reassure those of you that do, I shall introduce myself. I am, of course, the one and only, Rita Skeeter.”

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