So this has been posted a few days later than I would've liked, but I've been busy with work. But nevermind, here it is

This isn't edited, but I hope you like it 

Another hectic work day was coming to an end. My work day, starting strictly at 9 o'clock was packed with initial client introductions, check-ins with existing clients and discussing ideas for expanding the business even further. But, now that 5 o'clock was rapidly approaching, I was ready to unwind the day by sorting through the large stack of papers waiting for filing at the edge of my desk. As much as I hated to admit it because I knew I'd be teased to no end for it, organising the office was one of the best parts of my day. It meant everything was ready for when I came in the next morning.

Crossing my legs at the ankle, I tried to make myself comfortable in my office chair but really, it was difficult to do when I spent so long sitting in it. Reaching for the final paper at the bottom of my pile, I scanned it with quick eyes. It was enough to make me smile. Yet another happy couple, another successful match that I'd managed to make.

Standing from my chair, I crossed the room to the filing cupboard on the other side. Opening the doors, I searched through the alphabetised files and located the profiles of the two clients that I'd successfully paired together. Arranging them in a pile, I put the document I'd carried with me - a thank you letter addressed from the couple and inviting me to their engagement party - together with a precise sticking charm. Then, I made sure to file the collated documents with the other successful matches - at first, my matches had fit into a single folder, but now I was already nearing the end of my second folder. Returning the folder to its rightful place, I closed the cupboard and returned to my desk. On my way, I added another tally mark to the blackboard where I kept track of my matches; we were only a handful away from 100 couples.

I took a step back from the board, admiring the sheer number of tallies I'd made and tried to stop my grin from splitting my face in half. But really, I was on my own, so did it matter that I was smiling like a fool? Unwilling to let anything spoil my mood, I returned to my chair and plopped myself down in it with a slight laugh.

Rolling my chair under the desk again, I crossed my legs at the knee and realised that I'd managed to overlook another letter. Not letting myself become annoyed that I wasn't done with work as I'd previously thought, I reached for the envelope and turned it over, to look at the seal. I recognised the wax seal as one belonging to one of my female clients, one that was meeting a particularly finicky male client of mine for a first date last night. I'd been waiting for this letter.

Straightening up in my seat, I eagerly broke the seal at the back and pulled out the folded parchment. Before I unfolded the letter, I raised my eyes skyward and made a silent prayer to Godric, to Salazar, and to whoever was listening that it was a good letter. This was the fifth date I'd sent him on and each one before this had been a resounding failure. Godric, it shouldn't have been this hard to set him of all people up on a successful date.

Drawing in a breath through my nose, I steeled myself and opened the letter and started reading. I barely made it halfway through before wishing that I hadn't. It would have been so easy to tuck the letter back into the envelope, to stash it away for later, and yet, I couldn't. I forced myself to reach the end of, wanting to get to the bottom of the issue because Godric's ghost, it shouldn't have been this hard to set James up on with someone. And yet, it was an astronomically difficult task.

Forcing my eyes forward, I continued to read on, to take in the date from my client's perspective. She described James in a way I'd never known him to be; she said he was preoccupied as if his head hadn't been there, as if he hadn't wanted to be there. And Merlin, no one wanted that from someone they were on a date with. Yet, it was a way each perspective date with James had been described to me. The James I knew wasn't that sort of person, he gave his all to the person he was dating and he was a damn good date.

Sighing, I let the letter fall from my fingers and dropped my head. Pushing the heel of my hands into my eyes, I rubbed softly and tried not to groan out loud. James Sirius Potter had single-handedly made my good mood evaporate. He was lucky that I was planning on approaching him in a professional manner about all of this, otherwise, he'd be dodging a particular vicious stinging hex. Well, in a relatively professional manner.

Pulling my desk drawer open, I contemplated which stationery to use; did I use the plain parchment or the parchment that I'd have customised for my matchmaking business? Deciding on the latter, to lull him into a false sense of security, I set about writing a letter to James. I kept it short and to the point, knowing he'd be able to read the hidden message beneath the professional note; get your arse into my office Potter, or so help you ...

He knew me well enough to know what I really meant, even if I didn't write it.

Ending the letter with a signature, I waited for the ink to dry and then folded the parchment in half. Putting the letter into a customised envelope, I wrote his address on it, not needing to consult his client file to remember it. Melting some wax onto the seam, I stamped it shut with the seal. Once I was finished, I held the envelope between two fingers, tracing the way my letters sloped into one another.

What in Merlin's name was wrong with him? It shouldn't have been this difficult for him to have a successful first date. On paper, he was a good catch, in reality, he was an even better one. James had always been fairly decent at getting girls, so why the hell was it so hard to set him up? He should have been the easiest client I'd ever had, but he wasn't. He really, really wasn't.

**********

The very next day, as I came into work, my mind was fixated on one thing and one thing only; James Sirius Potter. I knew he would turn up today, that he wouldn't ignore my owl. Not that the bastard would reply to my owl either. Instead, he'd choose to surprise me, turning up unannounced at my office so we could talk. I'd already tried to explain to him that he couldn't just turn up announced in case I had a meeting and that he'd be left waiting for me, but he would never change. It was easier to tame a Kappa than it was to change James. But he would turn up. I just had to wait for it.

It was in the back of my mind through all of my meetings and as I worked through the financial reports for the month, and I tried my best to dismiss all thoughts of Potter. Not that it was easily done. I was so ready to stop thinking about this upcoming meeting that when there was a knock on my office door, I glanced expectantly at it, hoping it was the stubborn Gryffindor. The sooner he turned up, the sooner I could get some real work done.

The knock sounded again and I forced myself to take in a measured breath, sitting up straight. When I called out for the person on the other side to "come in", I hoped I looked the picture of composure. Especially when it was James who pushed open the office door, standing in the doorway with the same charming smile, like the picture of innocence with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. I tried not to narrow my eyes at James, wanting to demand what he was so smiley about, but I said nothing. Especially when his smile widened, probably because he knew exactly how much restraint I was showing to stop myself from cursing him out.

"Come in," I said again, gesturing for James to walk into the room.

"Long time no see Kincaid," James said, taking the prompting and approaching me. When he was close enough, he extended the bouquet towards me and I accepted it readily, spying the envelope amongst the flowers. Holding the arrangement in one arm, I plucked the envelope and listened as James explained, "The receptionist had it, so I said I'd bring it through."

"Thank you," I said shortly, casting a quick glance at him, watching as James settled into the chair across from me and returned my attention to the card. It was a short and sweet note, one from a successful match I'd made, thanking me for my help.

Smiling briefly, I set the card on my desk and sent the flowers into a waiting vase with a wave of my wand. I picked the card up again, setting it to the side, on top of the pile of waiting documents. When the end of the day arrived, I'd find it again and would file it with the rest of the heartwarming notes I'd received from clients in the past. On rainy days, when I was unable to get anything done, it would be those notes that inspired me to start working again.

At last, I turned my eyes to the waiting Gryffindor and leaned back against my chair. Crossing my legs at the knee, I clasped my hands together in my lap and offered him an unimpressed smile. James, knowing he was in trouble, gave me a sheepish one in return. I'd hoped he'd give me some sort of explanation, or at least tell me everything from his perspective, but he never did. Like he did every time he was summoned to my office, he just kept watching me, waiting for me to make the first move.

Sighing harshly, I propped my clasped hands on my desk. "Do you want to tell me what happened?"

James considered me for a moment, eyes settled so firmly on mine with that intensity that I wanted to look away. But I forced myself to hold his eyes. Eventually, he decided that "No, I don't want to tell you."

I fought the urge to sigh again, knowing it would only amuse James to no end. Instead, I squeezed my clasped hands together quickly, just once, before admitting, "I just don't understand James. You're better than this. You know how to act on a date and Godric, you also know to be polite on a first date even if you don't want to be there. So why are you being like this on all these dates?"

I waited expectantly for his answer. James, on his part, held his silence for longer than I wanted him to. But, eventually, he straightened up in his seat, shifting to the edge of the chair and leaning towards the desk. His smile softened, a little teasing, and a little glimpse into the James from the days of our past, and I glanced away for a second. It only took a second for me to shutter the past me back into myself and returned my focus to James - my client.

"I'll tell you what," James said, speaking slowly, "I'll give you the answer to all of the questions you have for me. But, over lunch."

"Lunch?" I repeated incredulously, shaking my head. "Why would I be discussing any of this over lunch with you?"

"Well," he gestured to the clock, "it's almost time for your lunch."

My eyes darted to the clock as well, knowing he'd timed it perfectly. I was certain he'd done it on purpose, he'd done it too many times now for this to be a coincidence. Really, there was absolutely no point in arguing with him when he'd just continue to do this. But, if this was the way I got the answer to the questions that I wanted, the answers I'd been wracking my brain over endlessly, then I'd humour him again.

This time, I didn't try to stop myself from sighing. When James laughed softly in return, I just shot him a look. He had the sense to silence himself, making a show of locking his mouth shut. Not that it would last long. We both knew better than that. Still, when I pushed my chair out from under my desk, James beat me to grab my bag. He picked it up and held it out to me.

Taking it from him, I slung it over my shoulder and warned, "You better tell me the actual reasoning this time around. Not like last time when you kept changing the subject."

Walking around the desk, I looked expectantly at James who came to my side. He knew I was still waiting for an answer, one I wasn't sure he was going to give me. And James, knowing that I wouldn't go with him without an answer, brought a hand up to my back, ushering me out of the room.

His hand, warm and large, on the middle of my back was a reminder of the solid strength of the man at my side. "James. I need answers."

He just offered me a wink, "No promises there, sweetheart."

I was already regretting letting him escort me out from the safety of my office.

**********

James wasn't known for his ability to keep his mouth shut. Anyone who spent any length of time with him knew that he could talk and talk and talk. And yet, anyone who properly knew James, also knew that if he wanted to, James could take a secret to the grave and if he didn't want to share anything with you, he wouldn't. Trying to get James to give me the answers I needed was the most aggravating thing I'd ever attempted. Despite sitting through a lunch meeting with him, he hadn't said anything about why he was being such a prick on these first dates and had instead deviated the topic completely onto something that he'd much rather talk about. And now, now that the bastard had turned up unannounced to my flat, I'd only entertained him on the off chance that he planned on giving me the answers I needed. Not that he seemed to want to help me.

"James," I said with a sigh, approaching the man who was reclined on my sofa, resting his legs on my coffee table. When I reached his side, he accepted his cup of tea from me and lowered his legs so I could walk past. The moment I settled on the sofa at his side, his legs were up again and I shot him a look. "You know I don't like your feet up on there."

"Actually, you only have an issue with me putting my feet up when we're discussing official business because it doesn't feel professional - your words Kincaid." He shot back, blowing on his tea before taking a slow sip. "Besides, I'm not here to discuss business, Kincaid. I'm here to talk with my girl."

"I'm not your girl," I reminded him dryly, reaching for a biscuit to dunk in my tea. "You know I invited you here to get answers from you, Potter."

When I offered James the plate of biscuits, he shook his head and patted his muscled stomach, "No thanks, quidditch diet in progress. Besides, you work too much Kincaid, it's out of hours now. Relax with me."

"No." I remained firm. "Come on, you've fucked me about enough now. Why are you being so annoying on these dates? It's almost like you're trying to get them to decline a second date on purpose." James evaded my eyes. "Is that it? You're doing it on purpose!"

Leaning towards James, I swatted his arm. He clutched the spot I'd hit, shooting me a look. "Ow!"

"Oh please, that didn't hurt you," I grumbled. "How am I supposed to get you into a successful relationship if you don't play along? Am I not setting you up with the right sorts of people? If that's the case, you need to tell me what you're looking for."

"Tell you what," James started abruptly. He lowered his feet to plant them firmly on the floor and shifted his body towards mine. Holding my gaze head-on, James proposed, "Why don't we do this; I answer a question and you answer one of mine?"

I knew better than to accept the deal he'd presented me. I knew better and dreaded whatever question he could ask me and yet, I was so desperate for answers that I contemplated it. At some point, it had become my personal mission to get hopeless romantic James Potter loved up, and it was worth the potential embarrassment I'd face answering his question. But, it was better to get it over and done with.

And because it was better to experience the embarrassment first, I said, "You go first. Ask your question first Potter, and then you'd better answer mine."

He crossed his heart. "I swear. But, are you sure about this Kincaid? Once I ask you, you can't back out."

The fact that he'd even offered me the chance to back out, had me faltering for a second; James wasn't the type to give someone the opportunity to backtrack. But, I forced myself forward. Nodding once, resolute, I waited. I'd expected James to ask me straight out, to barrel forward and when he didn't, I swore my heart rate accelerated. I wasn't used to seeing James hesitating like this. The only other time I'd seen James this uncertain was back in our seventh year when -

I dismissed the thought as quickly as it had come. Instead, I took a long sip of my tea, hoping it would calm my nerves. It didn't work very well. James, when the silence lengthened, raised his earnest eyes to mine and held them steadily.

"Back in school," he started slowly, and it was enough to have me know what he wanted to ask me. I should have cut him off and declared that our deal was good and done, but I didn't. I'd agreed to this and I'd follow through if only to get the answers that I wanted. "Back in school, in our last year, when we dated, you ended it by saying you couldn't trust me on it. What did you mean? You have to know I'm mad for you."

"I knew," I assured him steadily. His eyes grew so heavy that I lowered my eyes to my hands that were curled around the mug. "I knew you had a thing for me, James, you made it really obvious. You told anyone that would listen to you and still ... you still dated other people before me, even though you claimed to be in love with me."

"And still-"

I barrelled on before he could form a sentence. If I was going to say this, then I was going to say it in one go. "How did you think those other girls felt? You went on dates with them but would still say you were mad for me. Even though you wouldn't ever want to admit it, you were using them James and I - what if you decided to use me? I couldn't handle that."

When there was no response, I lifted my eyes back to James and realised that possibly for the first time, I'd managed to stump him. He didn't know what to say. But, I swore from his eyes alone, I knew that James was racking his mind for something to say. He was leafing through all he knew about me, about the history of shitty men in my life, starting with my father and he wanted to say something to make it all better. But what was there that he could say?

Eventually, he settled on, "Yeah, that was shit of me and I shouldn't have done that. But back then, I'd only seen it as me trying to get over you. And it didn't work."

"Anyway," I said, shaking my head. "That doesn't matter."

"Of course it bloody matters!" James insisted. "I was a stupid teen and now, I know better. I know you can't get over someone by dating other people, and still-"

"James." He fell silent, waiting expectantly. "My turn now. Tomorrow, you're going to turn up at my office and we're going to go through the profiles so we can set you up on another date. This time, you're going to tell me what you're looking for, okay?"

"That's all you have to say?" He was incredulous, but I was firm.

Swallowing down my heart, I insisted, "That's all I have to say."

**********

When James appeared in my office, it was without his characteristic smile. He appeared in the doorway the way he always did, with a polite knock and waiting to be invited inside. Even still, he hesitated in the doorway, standing behind the door and waiting, as if contemplating turning right around and leaving me waiting. But I knew he wouldn't. He'd promised that he'd do this and he'd follow through. He was Gryffindor enough to make sure that he followed through on his words.

"Come in," I prompted James again, standing from behind my desk. But I didn't move far. Instead, I waited for him

to move.

Forcing his feet forward, James walked into the office and shut the door behind him. For a second, I swore his hand tightened on the door handle before he released it and approached the chair on the other side of my desk. I didn't wait to watch him take his seat. Instead, I headed to my filing cupboards and drew out the client profiles that I'd already earmarked as being a potentially suitable match for James based on the criteria we'd already discussed. Of course, if he'd summoned up new criteria, I'd have to seek out new matches, but that was part and parcel of my job.

Cradling the five profiles in my arms, I turned back to face James who was watching me. Unable to meet his waiting eyes, I returned to my desk. Putting the files down, I rested my open palms on the desk. "How have you been James?"

"Since last night?" he asked dubiously as if doubting his ears. I flushed a little at the ridiculous question but forced myself not to be cowed. Sitting down in my seat, I listened as James said, "Well, I had an early morning practice today, and then a press conference about whether or not I'm switching teams at the end of the season, and now I'm here."

"Right." I reached for the profiles again, collating them in a single stack. I took the time to line up the edges of the files, just because it gave me something to do that stopped me from having to meet his keen eyes.

"You're fidgeting," James declared, just after I'd aligned all the files perfectly. "Are you nervous about something?"

"Of course, I'm not." Picking the profiles up, I handed them off to James who accepted them readily. Forcing myself to barrel forward, to dismiss all lingering thoughts of James and to instead remember that this was my client sitting in front of me, I started talking, "So, in your hands are profiles that I've selected from my clients. I think they'd be a good match for you-"

"Based on what?" James interrupted, catching me off guard. Silenced by his unexpected question, I could only listen as he probed, "Based on the me you know? Or based on me - your client's selected criteria?"

"Based on your - my client's selected criteria," I answered honestly, but it felt like a cheap answer. It was the truth and yet, it didn't feel right. The women in the profiles in front of him were chosen because they fit what James had said he'd wanted, but I wasn't so sure they fit James as I knew him. Not that it mattered what I thought. What he thought mattered most. "Still, if you want to change the criteria you've already given me, that's fine. Let me know what it is and I'll have another look at the profiles."

He didn't answer me straight away. James made a contemplative hum and looked down at the profiles he opened in his lap. I waited, a tad apprehensive, as he rifled through them. I wanted, more than anything, for James to find a woman he wanted to go on a date with. And yet, there was that selfish small part of me, the part I never let myself think about, that hoped he'd dismiss them all. But that was selfish of me and it was bad for business.

Once James had finished looking through them all, he raised his head and looked at me again. Hidden from his eyes, I wrung my hands together and forced myself to give him my polite, all-business smile as I asked, "Well?"

Snapping the last of the profiles shut, James stacked them all on the desk as he declared, "I'm not interested."

"You're not interested in any of them?" I asked dubiously. He shook his head. "Really? Well, what is it about them? Is there anything you want me to look for in the other profiles or-?"

"It's nothing like that."

At my incredulous look, James sighed heavily through his nose. He reclined in his seat, crossed his arms over his chest and appeared almost like a petulant child. His eyes, beautiful as they were, flashed defiantly.

"James!" Sighing, I dropped my head. I reached my hand to my neck and tried to massage some of the tension there. Looking back to James, I pleaded, "Just help me out here. What is going on with you?"

For a good moment, I thought James wasn't going to answer me, that he was going to continue to be unhelpful. And I prepared myself to try and drag the answers out of him, but I didn't need to. Not when he decided to finally be helpful.

James rolled his jaw for a second, contemplatively before he sat up abruptly, "Okay, I'll bite. I'm not interested."

"You're not interested?" I repeated, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean 'you're not interested'?"

"I'm not interested," he repeated again, just as firm and straightforward. To him, it made all the sense in the world. "If the person isn't you, I'm not interested."

I breathed out sharply, taken aback by his sudden declaration. My eyes were locked on James who was waiting, waiting for some sort of answer or maybe even for a similar declaration. It was a declaration I could have easily given, his sentiments easily returned and yet - yet ... all I could think about was the sheer amount of time I'd spent trying to find James a match. And then there was that immature fear again, my past self who couldn't shake the fear of what if - what if this man who would readily declare he'd only ever had eyes for me, did not actually like me once he had me?

Shaking my head, I spoke slowly, knowing that he could hear the way my voice was trembling as I spoke. I just hoped James thought it was anger that was making my voice tremble like this, and not the fact that I was overwhelmed. "This is my job, James. This is my job and you're here wasting my time by making me sit here and trying to find you a match that you're not even going to give a go. And my clients - you're wasting my client's time."

Perhaps he hadn't changed so much after all. As a teen, he'd wasted other students' time and now, as an adult man, he was wasting my client's time. Maybe my defensiveness wasn't such a mistake after all.

"I've just said something really important," James pointed out, protesting my lack of response to the thing he really wanted me to react to. "But you're not even going to focus on it?"

"You're right, I'm not," I agreed harshly, snatching the profiles back. I marched back to the filing cabinet and put the files back in their right places. "I don't have time for this James, I've got work to do."

**********

Despite my real desire to avoid James, to put my head in the sand and pretend that absolutely nothing was going on and immerse myself completely in my work, I couldn't. I had to meet up with James and draw a line under this chapter so I could move on completely. But it wasn't so easy. James had refused to sign the papers I'd sent him to terminate his membership in my matchmaking service. Rather, he'd sent the papers right back, without bothering to sign them and instead had attached a simple note, telling me that he wanted to see me. I'd have to get them signed so the paperwork side of everything was done, but he clearly wasn't going to let this be a simple matter that was easily solved.

It would need some careful planning. I had to meet James in a neutral location, one that would force me to remain cordial when all I really wanted to do was grab him by the scruff of his robes and shake him silly. I settled on a cafe, one that was usually full of a combination of elderly wizards and witches, and young children alike. Like I'd known he would, James had accepted my invitation quickly, likely believing that I'd take the offer back if he hesitated too long which was likely on my part.

Forcing myself to take a break from the work day and knowing I couldn't leave James waiting, I made my way to the cafe. I knew I needed to head in, to face the upcoming situation, but I did pause outside the cafe for a second, taking that brief pause to gather my nerve. And then I was headed inside, casting a quick glance around the room to find James who, sure enough, was waiting there for me. He was sitting tucked away at the back corner of the room, trying not to garner any attention. He failed miserably. Sitting at the table nearest to his were two teenage boys, clearly quidditch fanatics from the way they were whispering to each other and shooting looks at James. James was doing his best to pay them no heed.

I took another second to second myself, adjusting my hold on my bag, and regretted picking such a public location. It would take a single reporter to overhear our conversation and it would be on the papers, but I hadn't spied one. Besides, maybe having the teens nearby would force us to remain civil and stop ourselves from becoming overly emotional. Godric knew I was going to give it a fair shot.

My eyes sought out James, looking at him and I didn't even get a second to study him from afar; his eyes were on mine, holding them steady. Forcing my feet forward, I closed the short space between us and settled across from James.

Tucking my feet under my chair, I offered him a quiet greeting, trying to pay no heed to the way the teenage boys perked up at the sight of me. I was sure they'd have a lot to tell their friends about this, "Hello."

"Hi," James returned, paying no mind to our spectators. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"Just a latte, please," I said, averting my eyes from him and instead looking at my bag on my lap.

He didn't need to be asked twice. James pushed his chair away from the table and headed to the counter, to order the drinks. I took the opportunity to fortify myself, strengthening my shoulders and becoming resolute. Reaching into my handbag, I drew out the papers and straightened them out. By the end of this short meeting, I'd have them signed and that would be that. It would be all over then.

James returned shortly, our drinks held in his hands. He put my latte down in front of me, settling once more, across from me. Offering him a smile, I said a soft, "Thanks."

He returned my smile with one of his own and cleared his throat. Glancing briefly away from me, James said, "No problem."

Looking back at the papers in my hands, I reminded myself that I was here to do something. Reaching across the table, I put the papers down in front of James and waited, leaning back in my chair again. He didn't even move closer to them, didn't bother to try and see what they were. Instead, he sighed and reached for his drink.

"It's always business with you, isn't it Kincaid?" he asked before taking a sip.

"You knew we were meeting for business, not pleasure," I reminded him steadily.

Nodding like he knew I'd give him that answer, James shot back readily, "I could bring some much-needed pleasure into your life, as I'm sure you remember."

At our side, the teen boys snickered, an unwanted reminder of their presence. Still, I paid them no heed and I remarked dryly, "I remember."

I waited then. I wasn't sure what for, maybe for some sort of answer but whatever it was, he didn't give it to me. Instead, James just nodded again, in that annoying way he had and ran a hand through his hair. He gestured to my coffee, "It's getting cold."

I took a sip just to satisfy him. "James."

"You know," he started, waving his hand dismissively when I pointed to the papers that were still unsigned, "you never told me the reason you broke up with me. You gave me a reason, yeah, but we both know it wasn't the reason. Do me the courtesy of being honest with me."

"Be honest," I repeated warily, eyeing him uncertainly. He waited for my answer. "You don't want to know, James."

"Of course, I want to know." He sounded like he was restraining himself from becoming animated like he was reigning in his reaction solely because of the spectators we had. Spectators who were in a tizzy ever since they realised that I was the ex-grilfriend of the James Sirius Potter. "It's the thing that's been on my mind the most since we broke up. You pulled the rug right out from under my feet."

He waited, patiently and insistently, waited for me to give him an answer. One I'd owed him for perhaps years now. But it wasn't something that I could just easily spout off to him, it was something that needed me to think over, to contemplate how I wanted to string my words together. And yet, I couldn't land on anything that seemed even remotely eloquent. So, I gave up trying, what mattered most was that I actually told him.

"Alright, alright," I said quietly, wary of the listening ears we had. "It was too much."

"Too much?" he repeated, taken aback.

"Everyone was always talking, saying how you never managed to stay with one person for long because you were waiting to date the person you always said you liked. And it was charming but it was also ... it was a lot. Everywhere I went people were talking about how soon your attention would drift once you really got to know me and you realised that I wasn't the person you'd built me up to me."

"Wait-"

I shook my head, making him fall silent. I needed him to listen to me.

"It was something I was really worried about, I didn't want to open up to you, only for you to decide I wasn't worth the hassle. Which is why I wanted to take everything so slow, so you could get to know me properly, but you were already steamrolling ahead," I explained, unable to meet his eyes as they spoke. They were too honest, too vulnerable for me to hold as I talked. "You were always wanting to get to the white picket fence, right off the bat because you'd had to wait for us to actually start dating. James you, you could never sit at the moment and just date me."

I trailed off uncertainly, watching James from across the table again. Did he understand what I meant? Did he get how stifling that could be for a teenager? How burdensome it had been to find yourself mad for a boy who wanted to jump ahead right to the end of the happily ever after? How terrifying it was to think that maybe, just maybe, the real you didn't live up to the idealised version of you someone had built up on their head? To have the horrendous secret thoughts you had about yourself, about not being enough, solidified even further? But it was there in his eyes, he did understand. It had taken him aback, but he understood.

James offered me a final smile, one that lacked his usual carefree nature and it made my heart twist a little. Still, I said nothing more and just watched as James reached into his jacket and retrieved a muggle pen. He drew the papers closer to him and signed on the dotted line, terminating his contract as my client.

Holding the papers out to me, James said sincerely, "I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like you - as you are - weren't the person I wanted, Kincaid. That was never my intention and that was certainly never the case."

Unsure of what to say, I accepted the papers, "James, I-"

"It's alright." He waved a dismissive hand. "It's in the past."

Except, it definitely didn't feel that way.

**********

I wasn't sure how I'd ended up in his position, although I was fairly certain that I'd been dragged here against my will. Because it would have to have been against my will for me to find myself settled on the sofa in James's flat, cradling a drink in one hand as dozens of people milled around, laughing and celebrating the latest win of the season. Godric knew what I was doing here. If I'd had any sense, I wouldn't have let myself be corralled into his home like this, under the pretence of celebrating, or I'd at least have turned on my heels the moment I'd reached the front door of his flat.

I shouldn't have let James - who looked startled beyond belief to see me there - reach out to grab my wrist, like he knew I was contemplating bolting, and draw me into his home. I shouldn't have let him lead me to the sofa, hand me a drink and tell me that he'd "be right back" before he headed off somewhere. I shouldn't have let that happen and yet here I was. Sitting and cradling a drink I hadn't taken a single sip of. My eyes were too busy searching the room, making note of the familiar faces - many of which belonged to his large family - as I sought out James. Despite how uncertain and awkward I'd felt after our last interaction, I wanted him to come back to find me, just like he said he would. Not that I was sure why I wanted that. I really could be a glutton for punishment, at times.

And then there he was, walking through the room, greeting people as he went. James stood tall and confident, laughing and smiling as he went, accepting the pats on his shoulder as they came and I swore in that second, that I hadn't seen a man more beautiful than James before. If he knew how I'd described him, he would have hated it, preferring to be called handsome. But the honest truth of the matter was, at that moment, he was beautiful as he moved as if all the warmth of the celebration was radiating out from him.

From across the room, James's eyes caught mine, holding them so steady that even if I wanted to look away - and I did - I wouldn't be able to. Instead, I watched as he crossed the room with sure steps until he came to a stop in front of me. He remained standing, looking so earnestly down at me and his smile dimming slightly that his other guests had gotten the hint and given us some space. Unable to say anything, and not knowing where to start, I wrapped my empty hand around my glass, holding it steady.

Silently, James held out his hand to me, waiting for me to take it. I hesitated, eyes flickering uncertainly between his eyes and his hand, I gave in to what I really wanted to do. Reaching for his, I slipped my hand into his waiting one and let James help me to my feet. I expected him to let go, but he didn't. Instead, still not saying a word, James drew me through the room behind him and led me through the flat until we reached his bedroom. Only once he'd shut the door behind us, did James let my hand go. I fidgeted uncertainly with my fingers, looking around the room before forcing my eyes to return to James who stood with his back pressed against the door, watching me. Still, he said nothing.

Not knowing what else to do, I gathered my hands behind my back and offered him what I hoped was a normal smile. "Congratulations James. Everyone says you were amazing in the match."

"Thanks." A brief smile flickered across his features before it disappeared just as suddenly as it had arrived. It was so unnatural to see James without a smile that I wanted to frown, but I forced myself not to.

After a heavy sigh, James straightened up so he was no longer leaning against the door. He ran a hand through his hair.

"James?" I prompted with furrowed eyebrows. I wanted to cross the room, to put a steadying hand on his arms, but I curled my hands into fists behind my back to fight the urge. Quietly, studying his features, I asked, "What's up?"

"I did some thinking," he admitted, the words slow as if he'd thought them over time and time again before he'd said them aloud. "About what you said last time - it wouldn't leave my head. No matter how much I tried to get it out of my mind."

I tried to interrupt him before he could say anything else. I didn't know where he was going to go with his thoughts, but I didn't want him to overthink, to take my words and interpret them in a way that had him thinking badly about himself. "James-"

He shook his head before I could get a full sentence out and I fell silent again. He wanted to say whatever he was going to say and I had to let him speak his mind. I owed him that much at least.

"I get it though," James said reassuringly. For the first time since we'd entered his bedroom, James held my eyes and to my relief, they weren't shuttered away they were when his mind was swarmed with negative thoughts. Rather ... they almost appeared hopeful? "But just - correct me if I've got this the wrong way round - but you didn't break up with me because you didn't love me. Right?"

The turn of the conversation, one I hadn't expected this conversation to take, threw me. All of my carefully thought-out answers faded and I could only shake my head. "I ... did, I did still love you."

"Okay." James nodded his head, just once, and I swore I could see the small smile curling at the corner of his mouth. "And if I learned to slow down? To enjoy dating you and just take our time? What would you say to dating me again, Kincaid?"

I watched him for a long moment, turning the question over and over in my brain, trying to work out if it was worth the risk of getting involved with James again because the heartbreak from the first time had shattered me. I wasn't certain I'd survive a similar heartache again. But, on the other hand, I loved James in a way I hadn't loved anyone else.

It didn't matter how much I thought about it, or how nay reasons I could come up with to not get involved with James again. It didn't matter when my heart was screaming out the only answer that I wanted to give him. I wanted to give him the truth. "I still love you, James."

And then he was grinning, softly and so so reminiscent of the way he'd looked when we'd started dating all those years ago. He didn't need any prompting. With quick steps, James crossed the space between us, wrapping his strong arms around me and hauling me into his chest. My own arms wrapped around him, returning his embrace and tucking myself under his chin. It had been years since we'd embraced like this and yet, we still fit together just as easily as we had back then. If anything, it felt more natural now, like we fit better together now than we had then.

James dropped a quick kiss to the crown of my head before squeezing his arms around me as if to check that I was there. "Godric, I've missed this. More than you would believe."

**********

9 YEARS LATER

Despite how busy my schedule was, I always made time to attend the weddings of the couples I helped. It was rewarding to watch each couple make solemn vows to each other and it was always heartwarming whenever an invitation to an engagement party, or to a wedding arrived in my post. I made sure to attend each one, even if that did mean my schedule was far too packed during the summer months and even if it did mean I had to rush between multiple events that were being held on the same day. But I loved it all, even if it did tire me.

Today's wedding had been no exception. It was a beautiful event, one that was a wonderful combination of the two cultures of the couple, paying respect to each of their heritage. As I sat, back ramrod straight and eyes fixated on the pair at the front of the aisle, I knew I had the same sappy smile on my face that made James tease me, but I didn't care. I was happy. Genuinely, truly happy and witnessing love like this always made me warm inside.

A hand, warm and steady, settled easily on my knee as I watched the couple exchange their vows. James's thumb, a little distracting if I was being completely honest, was tracing slow soothing circles on the side of my knee. I was tempted to bat his hand away, but I didn't. Instead, I put my hand on top of his, interlinking our fingers together and holding it steady. Wordlessly, James leaned in to prop a gentle kiss on my shoulder before facing forward as well, just in time to catch the couple's first kiss as a married couple.

Applause and cheering rang out through the room and I felt my smile widen, splitting my face open in a smile that was too toothy and not entirely photogenic, but I knew it was James's favourite smile. I continued to watch the couple prolong their first kiss, smiling into it, and swore I could feel my eyes becoming misty. Godric, I loved my work.

At my side, James momentarily stopped his applause and reached for his pocket square and held it out expectantly towards me. I turned to face James, meeting his knowing eyes and offering him a thankful smile. Patting at the corner of my eyes to catch any wayward tears that threatened to escape, I sniffled, just once.

"Who would've thought you'd be a crier," James teased as we stood, and watched the couple as they walked down the aisle and headed towards their reception.

"I'm not a crier," I protested, returning James's handkerchief to him. He tucked it into his pocket and grabbed my hand, holding it steadily until there was a space for us to feed into the aisle.

We walked at a slow pace, trying to stay behind the rest of the wedding guests, so as not to draw attention to ourselves. Today was for the couple, it was their big day and they didn't need us to take their spotlight. Their guests didn't need to crowd around the newly appointed captain of the English national quidditch team and his long-term partner, they needed to crowd around the happy couple.

Taking our time to make it to the reception gave James the time to point at different design elements of the wedding, noting the things he didn't want to replicate for our upcoming wedding but he did mention wanting to ask the couple who had done their flower arrangements. Noticing the looks we were getting, I elbowed James who dutifully fell silent, even as he shot me a look.

"What?" he protested, rubbing at his side.

"Stop it," I said pointedly, "You're going to drive yourself craving by hyperfixating like this. We've got ages."

"I have to help you now because once the quidditch season kicks off, I'll be useless," James said simply as we finally made it into the reception hall.

We paused at the entrance and James's eyes searched the hall, likely making a note of different details. Before he could come up with another idea that would likely drive me crazy - I'd already vetoed the idea of a red and gold colour scheme - I tugged him into the room after me. I went to approach the happy couple, ready to give them my congratulations, when James planted his feet firmly, rendering me unable to move him.

When I glanced curiously at him from over my shoulder, James glanced pointedly at his wristwatch. "Remember, we've got another wedding we need to get two in a couple of hours, don't start fawning over them."

I narrowed my eyes at him, "I don't fawn and you know it."

Releasing my hand, James tucked his hands into his trouser pockets, watching me with a teasing smile. "No, you don't fawn, even when you should. Even when your outrageously handsome muscular fiance is right there for you to fawn over."

"Well, one of us has to keep your ego in check."

Rolling his eyes at my teasing, James stepped towards me and dropped a quick kiss on my forehead before straightening up again. He took me by my shoulders and turned me around so I was facing the newlyweds. Quick as a flash and before I could protest, he patted me on the bottom, ushering me forward, "Off you to, darling."

My mouth dropped open in surprise. Knowing my luck, one of the wedding guests had gotten a picture of the little gesture and it would be featured in a newspaper tomorrow morning. Shooting James a look, I narrowed my eyes at him from over my shoulder before turning again and hurriedly closing the space between me and the newlyweds.

The couple, standing so close to each other, as if they'd never let anything come between them, beamed widely when they saw me. Before I could say anything, they took me in a double embrace and my arms struggled to wrap around both of them as they thanked me for bringing them together.

I drew back from them, exchanging pleasantries and thanking them for the invitation. But really, my attention was far away from them. It was all fixated on the man I knew was standing on the outskirts of the reception hall, watching me with appraising eyes. He really was the best thing to have happened to me.

____________________

Let me know what you thought ~

Here are the hints for the next one:

* Has an older brother

* Played on the house quidditch team 

* Became a Prefect in his fifth year

The next one shot will hopefully be out the 14th ~~