CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Elodie had discovered that finding James was a challenging task. Nobody seemed to go out of their way to look for him, they simply accepted that he was often off somewhere doing his own thing.

When she asked his family about his whereabouts, she would usually hear, "I don't know...", "He's probably off doing his own things...", "He might be serving detention..." or "You'll likely find him eventually, just keep looking."

Her realization was both infuriating and heartbreaking. It confirmed her suspicions—James was rarely sought out, and most people seemed content to let him be. The fact that everyone expected others to do the searching for him or simply accepted his absence without a second thought stung.

It felt like a heavy weight on her heart, knowing that James was often unseen and unappreciated by those around him.

A sudden clarity washed over her mind—the reason it was so difficult to find James became apparent. It was not just the fact that he didn't readily make himself accessible. It was also due to his personality—he wasn't someone who enjoyed being found.

Despite her usual lack of success in locating things, Elodie had an unwavering determination that fueled her efforts.

"You know," Elodie huffed loudly, out of breath, "you're not exactly easy to find, James Sirius Potter."

James, perched alone on the bench of the quidditch field, looked down from the pitch towards the field, where Elodie had refused to climb the stairways and was instead standing on the field.

"I have my moments," he replied with a smirk, raising an eyebrow. James leaned over the edge of the wall, his surprise mirrored on his face. "How did you manage to find me, of all people?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his tone.

He slowly leaned his elbow on the edge, eyeing her with a crooked smile. "From what I heard from Fred, I thought you were hopeless at finding things," he added, a cocky grin playing on his lips.

"Ha-ha, very funny, Potter." Elodie shot back, her voice a monotone. "Listen, I can see your broom next to you—so get your arse down here. I'm not really enjoying this way of communication."

James chuckled, replying with a sly smirk, "Well, I must admit, I find it quite interesting. I get a good view of you from up here," he retorted nonchalantly.

Elodie's eye twitched at James's comment, a mix of annoyance and mild irritation flickering across her features. She warned, "Don't tempt me, Potter. You know how adept I am with spells. I'll use it if I have to."

He laughed, slowly lowering his broom towards her, but he hovered above the ground, giving her a cocky smirk.

"No." Elodie quickly shook her head, a hint of mild exasperation passing through her expression.

James whined with mock disappointment, "I didn't even say anything yet!"

Elodie chuckled, lowering her voice. "You are going to say, 'Fly with me,'" she mimicked, her tone dripping with irony.

He huffed, scrunching his nose in denial. "I do not sound like that, Goldstein!" he cried defensively.

"Right, the answer is—" she never managed to finish her sentence.

Before she could even speak, James unexpectedly lifted her into the air, wrapping his arm around her waist. With a shriek, Elodie's eyes slammed shut, terrified to let go of her pride and admit that the situation wasn't entirely unpleasant.

James spoke up, his breath warm near her ear, "You know, it's not so bad. Relax," he teased, enjoying her slight struggle.

James laughed heartily at her reaction, feeling her grip around him tighten as they soared through the air. He took a moment to relish in the moment, enjoying the feeling of her body against his.

"A little scared there, aren't we?" he teased, his voice filled with amusement. "It's okay, you can relax. I've got you."

She gasped, a hint of trepidation in her voice. "What if I slip off?"

He interrupted her, his tone firm and resolute, "You won't. I will never let you fall."

A wry smile tugged at her lips, and she retorted, "How often have you used that line before?"

He chuckled. "Never. No one trusts me enough to make me fly them," he confessed a hint of self-deprecation in his tone.

"Oh, and you think I trusted you?!" She shot back, her voice filled with incredulity. Unintentionally, her eyes fluttered open, widening as she took in the breathtaking view of the Quidditch pitch below.

Then her gaze turned to James, who was tantalizingly close beside her. "Ah, there are your blue eyes again," she mused, her tone affectionate.

Turning back to face forward, Elodie tried to maintain her composure.

"Where exactly are we?" She asked suddenly, coughing slightly to mask her nerves.

"Nowhere I shouldn't be," he reassured her, a cheeky tone lacing his voice. "But if told you it was my secret spot, would you believe me?"

Stunned, Elodie remained silent for a moment, her gaze wandering over the empty field.

A small chuckle escaped her lips upon hearing his surprised tone. "Yes," she admitted softly.

James was taken aback by her affirmative response. He had expected scepticism, a hint of doubt, but not an immediate "Yes."

"You believe me?" he echoed, a sense of relief mingling with surprise. The wind whipped through his hair, but his attention remained fixed on her. "You believe I have this secret spot just for myself?"

Elodie admitted, her voice laced with a hint of vulnerability, "Well, yes—unless you're just playing a joke on me."

James interjected, his usual playful demeanour temporarily suppressed. "I'm a joker, sure, and I love to act ridiculous, but I don't makeup stories like this."

She paused for a moment, then hesitated before asking, "Can I ask you something?"

He chuckled softly and gestured with his head. "Sure, but would you prefer to talk about it up here or back down on the ground?"

She requested, her voice laced with relief, "Down, please, because I am really worried I'll pass out if we stay like this."

He laughed and slowly descended the broom, gently setting her on the ground. The tension in her shoulders faded as her feet made contact with the solid surface.

"I actually survived," she chortled, a wide grin spreading across her face.

He shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. "I want to be offended, but I just can't with how adorable you are right now."

She backed away, placing some distance between them. James couldn't help but notice the sudden distance she had created, a pang of disappointment settling in his chest.

She chuckled, seemingly aware of his inner thoughts. "It's not that I don't want to be near you, Potter," she interjected, "but it's hard to talk with you towering over me."

He unfolded his arms, his smirk widening. "SO, you don't mind me being close?" He provoked, a challenge in his voice.

"That—" She stopped herself abruptly, shaking her head in determination. "No, no subject changes," she insisted.

He played along, snapping his fingers teasingly. "Well, you got me," he admitted with a hint of mischief. "So, what's on your mind?"

She turned her gaze firmly to his, seeking an answer. "Why did you—why all the girls before?" Her curiosity was genuine, with no ill intent behind the question.

He scrutinized her intently, a flicker of suspicion in his eyes.

"Did someone send you to ask?" he countered.

She confidently asserted, "You should know by now, James—I am not someone's errand girl." Elodie folded her arms, awaiting further explanation.

James remained silent, a mix of surprise and contemplation in his gaze. He hadn't expected Elodie to directly ask him this question. He leaned back, his arms crossed across his chest, contemplating his answer.

"That's a pretty personal question," he began, his tone guarded.

She observed his inner turmoil, sensing his internal struggle. The silence grew heavy, lingering between them, leaving a palpable tension.

Finally, he broke the silence, meeting her gaze with a pensive expression. "Give me a moment," he requested, his voice filled with contemplation. "I need to organize my thoughts and find the right words."

She accepted his request, a gentle smile playing on her lips. "Take all the time you need," she assured him, reaching out to take his hand for a brief moment. As the moment lingered she reluctantly turned to leave the Quidditch Pitch.