the girlfriend experience, james potter
𝒂𝒖𝒈𝒖𝒔𝒕, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟕

chapter one, DINNER DATES AND NECKTIES

✧ ━━━ · ✦ · ━━━ ✧

     "YOU HAVE TO BE SHITTING ME."

     Bronwyn Ward, still sixteen years of age, had her mouth hanging open, her bottom row of teeth peering past her lips, and her legs crossed, as she stared at her mother, an array of disbelief crowning her face.

     As the summer of nineteen seventy-seven drew to a close, one filled with business plans and possibly too many baking sessions than Bronwyn cared to admit, Niamh and Henry Ward, more specifically Niamh, wanted to initiate their daughter into the wonders of her final year at Hogwarts with a "special" dinner out, that wasn't that "out" at all.

     With her birthday fast approaching and her chances to spend time with her parents quickly evaporating, Mr. and Mrs. Ward wanted to make the most of the last seven days before Bronwyn would be gone for four months, by which her eighteenth birthday would be no more than a distant right of passage that would cloud her memory with distractions from the much closer Christmas that she would much rather think about.

     Bronwyn was never one for big, over-the-top birthday celebrations. She was never one for birthday celebrations full stop. Bronwyn asked her mother what was so significant about the concept of birthdays whenever Mrs. Ward became more enthusiastic towards her daughter's birthday than Bronwyn did towards her own. Bronwyn always thought that a day dedicated to yourself was honestly quite self-involved.

     Onto this "dinner out" that's not much of a "dinner out" at all, Niamh Ward's childhood and Wizarding school best friend had contacted Niamh about Bronwyn's birthday, and in response, Niamh was quick to suggest that she and her immediate family could join them for dinner, and celebrate Bronwyn's "almost birthday" together.

     Bronwyn had nothing against either of her parent's friends, and it was typical for this British family to enjoy meals and days out with more than just three of them. Bronwyn's annoyance had not sprung because the dinner was tonight and this was the first time Bronwyn had heard of it. Nor was it because Bronwyn never particularly enjoyed making such a huge fuss surrounding her birthday and now she was doing just that but with more people on top of that. But because it was which of her mother's friends, and who in turn that meant would come along as well, that were to be joining them that same evening, to share a Sunday Roast with that tipped Bronwyn off the most.

     "Now, now Bronwyn," Niamh tutted, "no need for such vulgar language." her mother said.

     Bronwyn uncrossed her legs, stretching them out in front of her, with hopes the blood would start flowing again. She rolled her eyes; her mother had always been one to overreact to matters circling cursing, "Oh please."

     "Your mother's right." Henry Ward stepped into view, crossing his arms then one leg over the other as he leaned in from the doorframe.

     "What is this?" Bronwyn glanced from her father than her mother, "A family reunion?" she said, as the three now gathered in her room; Niamh sat at Bronwyn's desk, and her father now passed the doorway, and up against the wall.

     Niamh sent her daughter an unsure scowl, her way of communicating for Bronwyn to not act so frustrated, "It's just one dinner. And I thought you'd enjoy seeing them." Bronwyn's mother's eyebrows furrowed slightly.

     "Don't you go to school with their boy?" Henry queried.

     Bronwyn wasn't sure what her father hoped this meant. "Attending school with does not mean, friends with," she said, clambering off of her bed, straightening out the now crumpled sheets. "I don't know what it was like for you two at school, but Hogwarts isn't all holding hands and dispute-free."

     Henry laughed, earning himself a frown from his wife. Niamh did so hope that Bronwyn would open up to the boy. To Niamh, there was no one else for Bronwyn than James Potter.

     "James is a sweet boy," Niamh pleaded, with sullen eyes, and a puppied gaze, "Don't you think you should give him a chance?"

     Bronwyn couldn't help but scoff, "Boys like James Potter don't deserve chances. Besides, what you've experienced with him is nothing short of bullshit." Bronwyn argued, resting against the foot of her bed. Niamh's forehead crinkled at the word. "Of course you're going to think he's sweet. It's not like you have prime knowledge of what Potter acts like when there isn't an adult present."

     "I think she has a point, love," Henry said to Niamh. Bronwyn raised her eyebrows and tilted her head at her mother.

     Bronwyn then angled herself in Niamh's direction, "And why can't we invite someone else over?" she asked in desolation. "Why does it have to be them? Why can't Andromeda come over for dinner some time?"

     "You know how your mother feels about the Black family, Bronwyn," Henry murmured.

     Niamh Ward had very strong opinions surrounding the Noble House of Black. A slight inconvenience considering Bronwyn's closest friend was a member.

     Andromeda had never been able to visit the Ward household over the holidays. Even if Bronwyn provided sufficient evidence as to why Andromeda was actually not at all like the name she so unfortunately held.

     Despite Bronwyn's best efforts, Niamh's opinions still firmly stood, and not even a budge was on the table.

     Niamh nodded her head, giving Bronwyn a wave of her finger, "Nasty people, those Blacks." she said. Bronwyn rolled her eyes. "I've known Euphemia for years," she continued, "and so I hope you can show that you care just a little bit."

     Bronwyn was never an ungrateful child. And she was very appreciative of all the hassle her parents went through to make her childhood as enjoyable as it could possibly be. Bronwyn had nothing against seeing Euphemia Potter and her husband Fleamont for the evening, but right now, James Potter might be just too much to handle.

     Bronwyn believes "hate" to be a bad word. A strong word that she saved for those that really pissed her off. James Potter is not one of those people, but he isn't far off from the waiting list.

     Bronwyn sure admired James' determination on the Quidditch pitch, and yet, it was his cockiness that put Bronwyn off. His snobbiness that he had created from the game. The fact that he and his "band" of friends got away with practically everything they did, just because of the stupid Lion emblem that they all wore too proudly. And that, therefore, gave them the mindset that everything they did, was absolutely fine and didn't matter at all, because good old Minnie would let it pass with a single detention, despite the resulting in smelling of the putrid odour that came from the dungbombs that they dropped around school.

     Then of course there was James' overly-confident attitude towards getting Lily Evans to fall in love with him, which Bronwyn thought was a more embarrassing trait than one she could hold against him when defining his irritating flaws.

     In conclusion, the boy was one that was difficult to like.

     "Just get dressed please," Niahm sighed, getting up from her seat. "They'll be here in no less than an hour."

✧

     BRONWYN DIDN'T HAVE MUCH EXPERIENCE with family dinner dates. Slightly ironic considering she has a business completely "date orientated". But having family friends over, was not Bronwyn's forte. She was at a loss as to what to talk about, what to dress like, how to act. She had just hoped her parents would do all of the talking.

     But then that posed its own problem. Having the adults muttering away about "kids these days" or "new Crème Brûlée recipes" whilst the dads spoke sport, meant that Bronwyn was left with their son. Alone and desperate, with no chances of turning to her mother to soften the awkwardness because she'd be too busy discussing how to serve the dessert.

     James Potter was not Bronwyn's favourite person. In fact, he was very far from.

     "Okay dear," Niamh, ushered Bronwyn to the fireplace, "they should be arriving any minute."

     Henry appeared in the living room, fiddling with the fabric of his tie, "Do I look alright, dear? Blasted tie won't cooperate." he grunted.

     Bronwyn's mother rushed to fix the necktie, leaving Bronwyn alone by the fireplace, meaning she was at risk of being the only Ward present when the Potters arrived.

     As Niamh fixed the knot around her husband's neck, Bronwyn stood on the balls of her feet, waiting for the puff of smoke to announce the Potters' arrival.

     The clock ticked a few times more, Niamh and Henry now stood directly behind their daughter, hand on shoulder, before a gust of green flames met the family of three.

     Bronwyn tried her best not to suck in any contaminated air, as she waited for the dust to settle. She thought that by the way that the family were stood, for a first greeting into their semi-clean home (Niamh had obviously spent the whole day dusting ─ bless her) it was rather creepy. Three large grins (well more like two ─ Bronwyn really did dislike James Potter and it was clear in her expression) staring back at the person now stood in the fireplace was most likely emitting the opposite effect they were going for: not welcoming, just creepy.

     The flames were extinguished after a second, and James Potter stood, fixing his glasses and hair, slightly discombobulated.

     The boy dusted the fabric of his trousers, with a brush of his hands, before approaching Bronwyn with a forced sense of delight, "Evening, Ward."

     Bronwyn gritted her teeth, "Nice to see you too, Potter."

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