CHAPTER EIGHT.
five points to ravenclaw.
( paper crane no. 796. )

MUCH TO HER SURPRISE, James stuck to his word and left Mint alone for the rest of the week.

At first, she was grateful for the space. She had desperately needed it — especially after the little escapade he had pulled just days before, leaving her mind cloudy and confused. With her emotions tangled in a tight knot her nimble hands could not undo, the last thing she needed was him near. She needed time to sort herself out. Pull herself together and figure out where she and James Potter stood in terms of forgiveness. Whether she did forgive him, honestly and truthfully.

The crane didn't help either. It just jumbled up her thoughts and made her question herself even more. The thing was, nobody had ever gifted her a crane before. Ever. Nobody had the gall to teach themselves how to construct a treasure of such complicity and bravely hand it to the face of the Crane Crafter; everyone just assumed she was the only one who made them and that was it. No ifs, no buts.

So by James' offering — should we say — she felt rather dumbfounded and taken back by such a daring gift.

Impressed, too.

It was one hundred percent a James thing to do. Everything he did felt so out of the box and so... James. If he was to apologise to her, of course he'd do it in the most ballsy, shameless way possible. Even if that meant gifting her back one of her own treasures she'd been dishing out for other people since fourth year.

But that's exactly what made her doubt. Why? Why did he care so much about her feelings? Why had he taken it upon himself to learn and craft a paper crane — when anybody else wouldn't even of dared to think such a treacherous thought? Perhaps it was because she could give him something and that made her worthy of his attention, or perhaps it was because he thought she was the only one who stood with the power between the fate of him and the so-called love of his life. All these questions and Mint couldn't answer any of them. She just couldn't decipher James Potter and his mysterious ways. Why, why, why, why? It just couldn't fathom out.

Yet, that didn't stop Mint from being curious.

Twirling the small blue crane between her fingers — given to her by the same boy who'd made up eighty percent of her thoughts over the past week — she waited anxiously for the arrival of the four Gryffindor boys.

It was the first period of a dreary Friday morning where the houses of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw shared a Defense Against the Dark Arts class, the classroom usually roaring with more chatter than what was normal for a nine o'clock start. However, this particular morning, it was oddly quiet. Mint had set off from breakfast early in order to beat the crowds of students rushing to their lessons, preferring to enjoy her stroll - which pleased her heart too, as it didn't have to work as hard.

She checked the time. It was five to nine — her eyebrows creasing as she noticed the classroom had still yet to fill up. Where was everyone?

"Sorry, I'm late." Mint whipped her head up, stuffing the crane in her robe pocket — the place it had found its home during the past week — as her best friend swung her bag underneath the desk and flopped down with a sigh. Mint couldn't bring it upon herself to take it out, so she'd carried it around, fiddling with it in times of deep thought. "I had to drop Lily off at the library."

"How come?"

Irene splayed a hand over her chest, turning to her friend with phoney empathy laced in her persona, "Because I am a kind and caring human being." Mint raised an unconvinced eyebrow. Instantaneously, Irene dropped the act, her arms banging back down on the desk. "The librarian wouldn't let her borrow a book from the restricted section... so I just.. kindly was kind."

"Don't tell me you cussed out the librarian..."

Irene idly scratched the back of her neck, "I may have used some unthoughtful words..." Mint almost exhaled a disapproving sigh, but before the breath had the chance to leave her body, Irene clapped her hands together with an innocent grin. "But! She got the book! And that's all that matters, isn't it?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

A sudden chime rang through the classroom, signalling the hour of nine o'clock and that the lesson was about to begin. At the auditory reminder, her eyes briskly swept around the room as she hoped to lock eyes with the one person whose crane burned hot in her pocket. Though she was disappointed.

James Potter, nor the Marauders, had shown up to class.

Wait. Hold on—what was she doing? Was she really looking out for him? Hoping he'd be here? Was she sick or what?! Maybe she needed to stop by the Hospital Wing after class, just to make sure.

Right on time, as always, her Professor glided through the door and announced, "Morning all! Books away, please! We shall we carrying on from last week's lesson on destruction spells. Can you all move your tables to the sides of the classroom — as we will be doing some practical work this morning? Quickly now, thank you!"

"I bet you wish you could explore Lily's restricted section," Mint teased, pushing herself up from her seat, earning herself a hard thwack on the arm by her now beetroot-faced best friend.

"Shut up."

As soon as all the desks were all piled up on top of one another towards the back end of the classroom, the dreaded lesson began. Mint watched as her Professor brought out another one of the blasted cushions (of the ugliest colour known to man) and placed it before the line of students. The moment she'd blown it up with the help of James, she wished she never had to see another ever again, hoping the destruction of the cushion could prove as a metaphor that she would never let James get that close to her body again — for that time was ancient history. Blown up. She could still feel the way his strong build pressed against her— Stop. This was not the time to be thinking about such things. She was in a lesson, for Merlin's sake! Pull yourself together!

Gliding by, her professor gave her what felt like a sneer - as if to say, 'Let's hope you can do it this time. You're supposed to be a Ravenclaw, aren't you?' Or perhaps that was just her insecurities talking and it really had been a smile. "I hope you've been practising, Miss McKinney," her professor pointed out, causing Mint to wince. Well, yes, she had... but to what consent?

"You bet," she responded, though her voice stood weary.

As the boy in front of her stepped forward to take his turn, Mint felt herself become nauseous. Though the whole process of James Potter pressing himself against her fragile frame was yet to haunt her dreams, she couldn't lie — he had helped her. She had succeeded in blowing up the cushion. But, this time, there was no help. There was no James pushing her along— encouraging her. She was alone with this. It was either she did it or she didn't. A fifty-fifty chance.

And she had one shot.

"Alright, next!"

Fuck it.

Stepping forward, Mint made sure to run down her mental checklist of things to do in order to equal a successful shot. Check her stance was balanced with parted legs? Done. Make sure her wrist was aligned with the cushion? Done. Have a steadier grip? Done. Now all she had to do... was do it. Though the longer she stood there, her wand fruitlessly pointing, she could feel the light, ghostly touches of him on her back and dips of her shoulders, with his thick, raspy voice whispering at the tips of her ear to relax. That was it! She needed to relax. "Mint... relax," she quietly repeated to herself. Taking a deep inhale, she yelled - and meant it, "Reducto!"

The loud blast of the cushion being reduced to ashes hit her eardrums before the burst of applause did. "Five points to Ravenclaw!" Her professor beamed as Mint spun around merrily to join the back of the line — not before high-fiving Irene first.

Oh, thank Merlin for that, she thought. If she had failed it would've been embarrassing.

All the while a tiny part of her wished James was there to see her do it.

"A letter came for you."

It was later that evening, when the sun had finally sunk below the tips of the tallest trees of the Forbidden Forest, the sky melting into shades of orange and blood red, painting the sky like an artist with their brush, combining the richest of colours.

The entirety of the Hogwarts student body were retiring to bed, their bodies clad with exhaustion from the long week and more than happy to slip into the world of dreams. Unfortunately for Mint, she had let her homework collect dust and lay forgotten for far too long, so unlike the rest of her fellow peers, she spent her Friday evening curled up in the Ravenclaw common room, her head shoved into her own world of parchment, ink and Potions essays.

Her eyes dragged along the pages as she tried to cram the words into her brain, going back now and then to improve her written work and any odd misspelt word — all due to her tired state. Her eyelids slipped shut after each sentence, causing her to blink furiously and carry on. The sooner she finished it, the sooner she could go to bed.

At the voice, Mint raised her head, settling her quill down to instead grasp the ribbon-wrapped letter held in front of her face. "For me?" Albeit, the useless question was thrown in the air; she already knew who it was from. For there was only one person whose handwriting she could pinpoint just by the writing of her name on the front. The quill held so thoughtless and shaky, while still bearing some grace.

It was from her father, Kale McKinney.

The man who'd raised her singlehandedly, soothing her frightened state and holding her frail hand during every single hospital visit without fail. The man who'd taught her to have a fighting spirit and believed in her every step of the way, even if she couldn't find that within herself. The man — and potentially the only man — she'd truly, wholeheartedly love 'til the end of her days.

Without another moment's hesitation, she ripped open the letter:

Dear my miracle, my Mint,

The weather is getting colder these days. I do hope you're wrapping up and keeping warm - Scotland has an awful tendency to drop to very cold temperatures, especially during this time of year. Make sure you are taking care of yourself and taking your medicine. I know what you're like. Your heart is a powerful thing, but do not overestimate how much it can take. It is very much keeping you alive — treat it with respect.

Your brother and I miss you dearly, especially your brother. I have stopped putting him in his own bed at night as I know it is fruitless — he will always find a way back into your room. He says it's because it still smells like you, so I told him it wouldn't for much longer if he carried on sleeping in there... I do hope that's woken him up a bit.

Are you coming home for Christmas? It's completely up to you. I am more than happy for you to stay with Irene again this winter if that is what you wish. I am no fool in knowing that Hogwarts is definitely a sight for sore eyes in this season, so I wouldn't blame you if you want to stay. Though, if you do fancy a change, Irene is more than welcome to stay with us for the holiday. Just let me know. Speaking of upcoming weeks, your mother's anniversary is soon. I just know she is so proud of you and all you've persevered through.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Love, dad.

P.S. Altair wanted me to tell you that he misses you and is waiting patiently (not) for your return home. He has been listening to some of your records and says some aren't very good. I'm sure you're thrilled to hear that your brother's opinions of you and your music taste are all very positive.

P.P.S. Madam Pomfrey wrote. She needs to see you whenever possible. Please do go see her. Perhaps, after school?

"Who's it from?" Irene questioned, attempting to read the letter from underneath, the words barely visible.

"My father," she responded, already pulling out a spare piece of parchment from underneath all her assignments, wondering what to write back.

Should she include the row with James? Or the part she got scolded for not taking her medicine that would've inevitably led to her ruin? Or the part she got carried through the castle unconscious because two boys— Yeah... perhaps it was best she left the Marauders out altogether... She didn't need her father worrying about her even more than he already did. That and the fact he had a young child to take care of.

Dear dad,

I can't say I haven't felt the effects of Scotland's winters... you can definitely start to feel the cold settle in. But, do not worry about me. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I'm taking my medicine and making sure to rest little and often. After all, I am almost seventeen. I'm basically a grown-up.

Regarding my baby brother, please tell him that Queen and Aretha Franklin are some of the most authentic and talented artists of this decade. But, I will forgive him as I know one day he will thank me for being such a cool older sister with such great taste in music.

Regarding the holidays, I will see what my friends are doing during the holidays before I make my decision. I want to make the right one, so please be patient with me like I know you always are. I miss you both very much and think of you every day. I hope you're both safe and please don't let Altair eat too many chocolate frogs — if he wants to collect the cards, he can have mine.

Irene sends her love.

Love, Mint

"Done," Mint smiled, folding up the parchment after signing her name. It wasn't the best letter she could write but it was good enough to keep her father content. "Brother's been criticising my music choices," she revealed to Irene, who chuckled. "Bastard."

"You love him really."

Mint just hummed in response. Of course, she did — but she wouldn't admit it out loud. Rummaging through her bag, she sought out one thing, but all her bag contained was lots and lots of spare paper. "Hey, do you have an envelope?"

Irene furrowed her brows in thought. "Uh, not that I can think of... Sorry, babe."

"It's fine," Mint reassured, "I'll find one somewhere." Though, where seemed in question.

Whilst the pair fell into a comfortable silence, with Irene having found a book while on her library trip with Lily and Mint going back to her homework, Mint's mind felt anything but. It felt like the right opportunity to tell her best friend about the events that occurred last weekend, but Irene's reaction worried her. She'd put it off all week. It felt like the topic of James was all she ever talked about these days. She was sick of it.

And the whole thing was so confusing. Her thoughts were so confusing. Though, her father had always said a problem shared is a problem halved, so would telling her best friend hopefully help her come to a conclusion? Hopefully.

"James apologised to me," Mint blurted out even before she could come to terms with what she was going to say. Well, it was done now. Irene curiously gazed up at her. "Last weekend. While everyone was on the Hogsmeade trip." She swallowed. "He said he wishes he could take it back and that he was an idiot. And that he was sorry."

Irene let a minor wave of surprise run through her body. So, first, he said please when asking about the whereabouts of Mint, and now, he was apologising? For his own mistakes? What fucking parallel universe was this crap? "He... apologised," she hesitated, then pointed at her best friend, "To you?"

"...Yeah."

With a slow nod, Irene carefully closed her book and lay it beside her, choosing to instead interlock her fingers and rest them on her lap. Mint observed her behaviour cautiously. She was waiting for an outburst, a disappointed gaze, just anything that showed her some sort of reaction — anything but silence. Silence was deadly. Silence was—

"Okay," Irene responded after a minute like it was the most normal thing she'd heard come out of Mint's mouth. Mint gave her an incredulous look.

"Okay?"

"So do you forgive him? You know, for everything."

Mint took a moment to think. "I don't really know..."

"Well," Irene started, "the good thing is... you don't have to decide now. Though what did you say back to him?"

"I— didn't say anything," she stuttered. "He just... left after he'd said everything. I didn't have a chance to." She purposely left the whole Professor Potter and the paper crane part out — it wasn't relevant. Plus, it would take effort to describe everything and Mint didn't feel up to it. She was fed up with everything.

"Well, how do you feel now?"

Mint ran her fingers through her ponytail. "Back at the Whomping Willow, when he said those things to me, I really hated him. He made me feel vulnerable and weak— like it was my fault I was born like this. Like I had something to do with it. He made me question myself— my worth. And I hated it, Irene," Mint could feel her eyes stinging as for the first time in weeks, she sat with and came to terms with her very own feelings. Let them hang in the air instead of locking them inside.

"And the worst part is I still like him!" She confessed exasperatedly with a teary laugh. "And that makes me feel guilty because he hurt me. He hurt me and I still bloody like him!" Letting her hands fall by her side, she continued, "Maybe it's because I still believe there's a chance he can change. Become better. I guess that makes me the foolish one in this situation..." Glancing up through her eyelashes, she comprehended her friend's reaction. "Sorry... I'm done now."

Albeit, Irene reached forward and squeezed Mint's cold hands. "You don't need to apologise for feeling, Minnie. None of your emotions are more valid than the other. You are allowed to feel more than one way about something— do not try and compress your feelings and blame them on one emotion." Irene gave her a tight smile. "You can hate someone and like someone at the same time. But don't lead yourself into false hope, okay? It's more dangerous than any exterior factor on your heart."

At that moment, the ebony-haired girl felt as though she wasn't just saying it to Mint. But also to herself. Her own feelings for Lily Evans grew with each passing day, and it seemed, she too, was relying on false hope. She knew of her own identity, but Lily's was still a mystery — and one she did not want to pry upon.

"Thank you," Mint whispered. She was grateful to have such a loyal and caring companion by her side.

Irene just smiled, quietly raising from her seat, "I'll go find you an envelope."

"Here you go, sweet girl," Mint cooed, slipping the now-sealed letter into her owl, Èowyn's, beak. She made the brisk decision to name her owl after one of the bravest characters in Tolkien's epic fantasy after being informed by an Eeylops Owl Emporium employee that she was the strongest out of all her parliament, including her brothers. It was a name made for a warrior and it fitted her perfectly. "Off you go now. Make sure father writes back, will you? Don't return without a letter in your beak." She didn't know whether the barn owl could understand what she was saying, but she liked to think she could. Owls were a lot more intelligent than humans gave them credit for.

With a hoot, her owl swooped down from where she perched on Mint's forearm and out into the starry night. She figured her letter would reach her father in a matter of hours if Èowyn got to the Midlands with no delay. She was not only strong but fast, too.

Gazing through one of the glassless windows of the Owlery, Mint peered down at the grounds of Hogwarts, noticing very few of the little windows from the lowest level to the tallest tips of the towers glowed with light and life on this early morning. She wondered who was in each room. Perhaps teachers — who were the only ones allowed up at this time, or perhaps... not. Craning her neck, she noticed the clear sky above unveiled little glints of light lit up by a circular orb, beaming down onto the Black Lake and illuminating it with its brilliance.

Tonight was a full moon.

The time had only just passed one in the morning, so the moon was the highest in the sky, as bold and as bright as anything, having skimmed past the whisps of clouds that shielded its force. Mint wasn't up to date with her lunar calendar dates, so it was merely luck that she managed to catch one this night, taking her time to admire it.

Letting out a deep exhale, the vapours of her breath were sent away into the night as the biting chill finally caught up with her. The warm exhale was more palatable as she braced for the sharp icy inhale that had yet to come still.

Abruptly, a distant howl echoed from the horizon, snatching Mint from her thoughts. The howl wasn't at all menacing — not to Mint, anyway. It was more frightened — alarmed. A scared warning. Something had caught it off guard and it was warning them not to come near, in fear of the consequences. She desperately tried scanning the grounds for any sign of movement — any sign of life — to see if it had wandered onto Hogwarts soil. Alas, she came to no avail. Maybe it was a sign to pack it up for the night. She got her moment of peace and now she had to return to harsh reality. At least it was Saturday tomorrow. She could have a lie-in.

"Lumos," she whispered, heading through the Owlery towards the winding staircase. The owls hooted in disturbance at the blinding light. She cringed. "Sorry, sorry, sorry owls. I know you can see in the dark but I can't. I promise I'll be out your beaks in a minute..." She hobbled down the twisted stairs at a leisured pace, narrowly avoiding the deep slopes that had been etched into the wood. As she got to the bottom, she made a note to curl her hand over the light of her wand, shielding its force from the sleeping paintings she passed by. She wasn't in the mood for trouble tonight.

However, it seemed trouble was already in the midst of her.

To avoid being caught at such a late hour, Mint decided to take a shortcut of the castle. She'd learned of all the castle's mysteries and secrets from yearning to be out of the public eye whenever she could feel her body dropping. There was nothing worse than being stared at when she was on the verge of passing out, so Mint taught herself the little passageways of the magical school in order to get places quicker. To take advantage of it.

Turning a corner, Mint let out a startled gasp, her balance taken off guard, and she fell back onto the floor with a small sound of surprise. It seemed others knew of Hogwarts' secrets, too. "What the—" she cursed, her goggled eyes frantically scanning the darkness before her. Grabbing her wand that lay in arms reach on the floor, still beaming light from the tip, she aimed it towards the groaning impostor. And nothing could've readied her for the sight.

The trembling form of a bloody Sirius Black squinted at the light spotlighted upon him, his frame seconds from collapsing with only a small gust of wind. Whilst in his bashed arms, he carried a battered James Potter, whose uniform had been completely ruined, soaked in wet red and torn up. He slumped limply against his friend, relying on Sirius' strength to stay propped up, his own consciousness dimming in and out.

She could feel the burning of bile rising in her throat as she examined them both.

Scrambling off the floor, she shrilled, "What the hell happened?!"

"It doesn't matter," Sirius panted, his whole body trembling as he struggled to keep James off the ground, "He wasn't quick enough. Neither of us were." It was as if his mind wasn't processing what the rest of his body was. He was shaking like a leaf, yet his eyes were frozen in wild confusion. "He— he was too reckless," he finally jumbled out, and Mint wasn't sure whether he was referring to James anymore. She'd never seen Sirius in this state. He'd just... shut down.

"Were you attacked-"

"-It doesn't matter! He needs help!" He distraught, his tone distressed and desperate. "I need you to help me carry him. Grab his other arm."

"Potter?" Mint called, gently touching his pale, sweaty forehead which crumpled with a groan of pain. "Potter, can you hear me?"

"...Evans?"

Mint hesitated, ready to turn around and head the other way. She didn't care if it took her longer to get back to the common room. "You know— maybe I shouldn't—"

"Please," Sirius begged, grimacing in exhaustion. He hoisted James up slightly, the boy slipping by the second, tightening the grip on his waist. "I can't—"

With a slight groan of protest, she slung his limp arm over her shoulder. He whimpered slightly at the movement. His shoulder must've been dislocated or pulled, so she mumbled a quiet apology, gripping the boy's arm with one hand and wrapping her other around his waist. He was a lot heavier than she envisioned - that, or her upper body strength was appalling. She groaned under his weight as they both half-dragged, half-carried the semi-conscious James to the Hospital Wing. She knew the path by heart; she could get there in an easy amount of time. However, lugging a boy on her back nearly double the size of her, it would take a little longer.

They staggered up the steps that took them to the floor of the infirmary, having to take a moment's breather before setting off again. Mint could feel her heart pounding against her chest as it ruthlessly fought against the new set of weight. It wasn't used to it, not by a great amount. Panting out what she hoped were words of reassurance to herself and the two boys, she almost cried in relief as they met with the closed doors of their destination. Any longer and Sirius would've had to carry her too. And it wouldn't have been the first time.

Impatiently, Sirius burst open the double doors and frantically yelled for Madam Pomfrey as they hurried inside, Mint now openly heaving for breath under James' bruised arm. They set the injured boy down on the closest bed to the doors right as the healer came scrambling out of her office, clad in a dressing gown that she had obviously only just thrown on by the sudden racket.

Heaving against the end of the bed, her hands tightly gripping the metal frame as she tried to bring her heart back to an average beating pace, Mint's eyes were the first to make contact with the woman's.

"Oh, dear!"

Madam Pomfrey's face dropped into an expression of frantic terror. It mirrored the same look she had worn weeks prior as the two boys had trapped her in, begging for a paper crane.

"Oh, Merlin! Did you have an attack?!" Madam Pomfrey panicked, too horror-struck with the wheezing girl to notice the other two boys that accompanied her. One of which raised an eyebrow.

Though, Mint couldn't reply. Her ragged gasps of breath left her voice bound like chains around her neck. Instead, she lifted a finger and pointed to the battered James, gritting out one word through clenched teeth: "Him."

Instantaneously, the woman let out a silent gasp at the sight of the boy. Both boys, in fact. Her eyes darted to the great gash on James' side which pooled with blood, saturating his shirt in dark red. His own hands were caked in it too, signifying he had originally tried to stop the bleeding himself, before blacking out. Examining the other boy, she mentally noted Sirius wasn't as seriously harmed as his friend, but there were scrapes and cuts here and there that needed tending to at risk of infections. All the while, Mint was untouched — just significantly out of breath. She had nearly half the strength of an average sixteen-year-old — it was foolish of her to have carried him here. She could've passed out— no, would've, had they gone any further.

Pulling herself together, Madam Pomfrey ordered the boy by his side: "Push those pillows further under his neck! His airway needs to be open." She rushed back into her office before returning with a bundle of different potions and materials. "Put pressure on his side! It's still wet."

As the healer got to work on bandaging up the boys, Mint could feel herself grounding back to a normal state. The distraction helped her mind focus on something that wasn't her breathing. With her heart thumping normally — as it could get — and her breathing having calmed, her body processed the toll that the pressure had taken on her. She felt exhausted. Probably looked it too — though, not as bad as Sirius.

He was slumped on the hospital bed beside his friend's, his eyes glazed over as he stared off into nothingness, his mind haven taken him elsewhere. He let Madam Pomfrey work her magic and wrap him in all sorts of bandages and plasters and taking drinks of strange, unnamed potions whenever she needed him to. Like he was used to it. Like it was routine. However, every now and then, Mint noticed him shortly glance at his friend's state, before going back to whatever haunted his mind.

She watched in awe at the woman's speed and talent, so much so, she didn't notice herself unconsciously wandering to the side of James' bed.

After nearly an hour, she was done. "Get some rest, you two," Madam Pomfrey sighed, collecting everything up to retire for the rest of the night. "I have a feeling we'll be joined by the other two in the morning," she concluded, her frame disappearing.

"I'll be off then," Mint quietly announced, having watched the woman leave. "Rest easy, Black."

"Hey, McKinney," Sirius called out uneasily — hesitantly — the blonde turning to him in confusion. "I hope we're good."

She blinked. "We?"

"You know— I just, you know— wanted to clear things— oh, you know what I mean," he sighed. Sirius Black was usually impressive with his words, able to swoon and persuade people at his very command — what the hell had come over him? He tiredly cursed himself as he eyed the girl making mental calculations in her head. Then, a single nod.

"I guess."

Good enough, he thought. Nevertheless, he had no time to ponder over it as James' body started to stir.

A low shuffling of bed sheets and a faint groan alerted the pair, with James' heavy eyes having barely any time to absorb anything before he was trying to push himself up. A pained cry escaped his plush lips as everywhere burned white hot. He hurt — all over. There was no part of his body that wasn't begging for rest.

Sirius only watched as Mint rushed to his side, his legs haven given out from exhaustion long ago. He couldn't even be bothered to speak — he just let himself think. It wasn't like he was going anywhere anytime soon. Besides, it seemed the blonde girl had it all under control.

"Don't move."

"It hurts," he whimpered.

"It would stop hurting if you didn't move," she reprimanded sternly like she was scolding a young child. It reminded her of when she used to scold her little brother when he persistently tried to touch a hot pan right after it had just come out of the oven. He used to think she was mean for telling him off, but she was only doing it to keep him safe. She'd rather hurt his feelings than let him hurt himself. It was the better choice of the two evils.

With the unspoken promise that he wouldn't hurt any longer, James started to settle down. With a grimace contorting his face, he nestled into his pillow. It wasn't all that comfortable but it had to do. Plus, he was used to it by now — he had years of experience sleeping on these hard beds.

As he lay there, he felt his body start to doze off. The draught Madam Pomfrey had given him made his limbs numb and sleepy, but they would only heal if he kept them still.

"I'm so tired," he spoke, his voice weak and scratchy.

"You were injured, you need rest," Mint chided softly, trying to keep him still with her hand on his chest. "Sleep. You can groan all you want in the morning." He let out a quiet noise of acceptance, his eyes fluttering shut as he fell into the surrender of slumber. The dark rings around his eyes lessened with each moment that passed.

As soon as she swore he was pulled under the enchantment, Mint took that as her cue to leave. She'd done enough tonight. Seen enough. She was ready for the mercy of her own sleep. She couldn't let herself do anything more. Gently, she pulled the covers to his chest and let them drop down the sides of the bed. It got chilly in the Hospital Wing, especially during the winter. She would know.

"Does this mean I'm forgiven?"

His voice was quiet, but she surely heard it.

Mint shook her head, "I am not having this conversation with you while you're in a hospital bed - especially when you're under the influence of a few potions. You won't remember this conversation in the morning."

"Is that a yes?"

She sighed, turning to leave, "Get some rest, Potter." But before she could take a single step, he made a last desperate move to grab her arm, stopping her.

"Is it?"

As she turned back to face him, she realised his eyes were barely open, hopelessly fighting against the potion in order to stay awake. He needed her response — only then could he rest. "I despise you... and everything you've done to me," she murmured. "But if I forgive you, you have to promise to not hurt me again."

"Okay," he whispered out.

Shaking her head, "That's not a promise."

"Then I promise," he rasped out.

"Then I forgive you," Mint whispered, a lump forming in her throat.

As the last petal fell from the rose, James could no longer battle against the merciless drought. His arm loosened from her arm as his eyes slipped shut. "Deal," he breathed, falling into the deep sea of sleep.

END OF CHAPTER !!
to be continued.

nini speaks !

it gets better before it gets worse ig.. lol.
finally, after several antagonising chapters, the
pair have made up :')) thank god. i thought i'd never
live to see the day. it's about to get interesting that's all i can say... and i'm vry excited for it ! they've suffered for
long enough. tho this doesn't mean james is gonna redeem himself straight away lmao. he's still a prick -
just a forgiven prick!!! :) hope you enjoyed !!!

( rewritten; 07/10/22 )