the girlfriend experience, james potter
𝒔𝒆𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟕

chapter three, SPIES AND SUBSIDY

✧ ━━━ · ✦ · ━━━ ✧

"UPFRONT ONLY, MY MAN."

Danny Silvers — shy, introverted, surprised by the Sorting Hat's decision to place him in the "mean" house — has never dated anyone before. It was his last year and he was so desperate to change that, there was only one place he could go.

The brunette boy sighed, "How do I know I can trust you? Money doesn't exactly grow on trees, you know."

Bronwyn Ward — the opposite to shy, likes to live life in the limelight, not surprised to be currently lounging in the Slytherin common room — stared up at the boy from the leather couch she was slumped in, as the moon rose outside; a slightly overly-smug expression on her face.

Making business with new clients was never easy. There was always a slight trust issue with socially invisible virgins with only one personality trait and that being that they read books at the weekend. Bronwyn frankly didn't care who her clientele was, because, whoever it was, paid her bills (imaginary bills — she's only seventeen).

But people like Danny Silvers just needed that extra little push on the convincing front.

Bronwyn pushed herself up from the sofa, immediately regretting her plan to prompt this slightly sad excuse of a boy into supporting her business, as she realized that she almost towered over him. Bronwyn wasn't tall, but she played Quidditch, and it was now unclear how little weightlifting Danny did, compared to her.

She placed a weary hand on his shoulder, "Look, Dan — can I call you Dan?" she asked. Daniel shrugged sheepishly, looking as though tears could pour from his eyes at any given moment.

     Danny was sixteen — the year below Bronwyn — and apparently couldn't keep himself together around the human form of a woman. Technically speaking, that made Bronwyn's goal of trying to sway him into paying her to date him, a hell of a lot more reachable. Anyone could see, especially Danny, how desperate he was for her help.

"When was the last time you had a girlfriend?" she asked casually, swivelling on the spot, to lead him over to the nearby fireplace, with an arm thrown over his shoulder.

Danny gulped audibly, "I-I haven't had one," he mumbled. Bronwyn wasn't one hundred percent certain what he had said, but to save him any further embarrassment — his ears had gone a bright shade of red — Bronwyn took his stuttering as an answer in itself.

"Right," she said punctuated. "See that's where I come in, Dan."

Bronwyn thought The Girlfriend Experience — her most definitely not pretentious, innocent contribution to society — to be a genius invention that she herself and Andromeda Black marvelled in, and believed strongly that others should too.

And Danny Silvers was sick of living his no-sex, no-fun lifestyle at school, and he dangerously desired that misogynistic attitude that teenage boys apparently enjoyed. Danny believed that all he needed was to become desirable to the girls in their year group. And how does he do that, you ask? Date a girl (or at least feel like he was dating a girl) that was popular, pretty, and sure as hell experienced to give him a leg up.

It was a real sexist ordeal if you looked at it properly.

"One week," she said, dropping her grasp on his shoulder, facing him straight on, the fire beside them heating her legs. "And you can finally learn what it's like to be a boyfriend. To have a girlfriend. No strings attached. If you want references, feel free to ask. I have of plenty five-star reviews. But, The Girlfriend Experience does require a tiny deposit, just so I can be sure you won't steal my services." her smile grew almost so forced, Bronwyn could feel the aching in her upper cheeks. "It's a trusting game. You pay me now, I date you tomorrow."

Danny's eyes couldn't keep still. They were darting so much, Bronwyn could see the cogs bustling about in his brain. Apparently, it was a hard decision to make.

After a little more physical encouragement from Bronwyn — an even bigger, more persuasive grin — Danny sighed, and pulled out a scrap of notes, combined with the odd bronze coin that took Bronwyn a minute or two to count.

Once confirmed that it was fifteen galleons, and Danny seemed a little more enthusiastic about spending all of his money, Bronwyn got on with the details:

"Our first date will be tomorrow after classes, just so I can establish a starting level of your experience. And as it is part of my package, I will be spending one out of the five hours of lesson time with you each day, starting Monday, until the end of the week. Four hours on weekends. You are required to plan one date, the one tomorrow, I will take care of, but the second one is up to you. I shall forward you my schedule for my Quidditch practices and extracurriculars at 9 am tomorrow, just so you know when I am not available, along with a contract, that is binding and requires your signature. And then for the rest of the week, I'm yours, Danny Silvers." she tugged on the skin of his cheek, playfully.

Danny chewed the inside of his mouth, and inched forward, angling himself to give her a kiss on the cheek.

Having plenty of experience with boys and girls who get ahead of themselves when it comes to paying for The Girlfriend Experience, Bronwyn swerved just before his lips made contact.

She placed a hand on his chest, barricading him from taking another step closer, "It starts tomorrow, sweetheart."

✧

BRONWYN WARD LOVED TO THINK she had her life put together when she woke up at 4:30 am on the first day of school. Andromeda Black and their other roommate, Alina Jones, neither of whom had a passion for early morning Quidditch practices, weren't best pleased to be woken by the sound of clattering items and aggressive sheet folding, before the sun had even come up, and before the thought of getting out of bed had even crossed their minds.

Ignoring her dormmates' continuous verbalized complaints at Bronwyn's early awakening, determined to make the most out of her four hours before school was even ready to start, Bronwyn readied herself for a very early, solo Quidditch practise, with hopes to get a head start at this year's cup.

Once Danny Silver's contract for his week of The Girlfriend Experience was slid under his door — Bronwyn could only assume that he wasn't going to be awake within the next hour she would be on the pitch and so she was prepared to return to his dorm for his signature later on in the morning — the rejuvenated girl skipped to the training ground, and retrieved her broom from the shed.

There was nothing quite like being back in her Quidditch robes, with the smooth texture of the broom between her fingers, and the wind in her hair, in Bronwyn's professional opinion.

The sun wasn't quite up and was peeking behind the horizon, itching to make an appearance to start the day. Clouds were at a minimal, and the sky was a clear, dark, royal blue, with oranges at its feet. The wind was pinchy, and the breeze subtle — perfect flying conditions.

Stepping out onto the pitch of the training ground was supposed to be a refreshing introduction to her final year at Hogwarts. Instead, she was struck with a wave of annoyance, anger, and envy, when flying specks of red flashed in and out of posts, and across the 4 am morning canvassing sky.

Of all things to ruin her plans to get ahead with practice, it had to be the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

Bronwyn hastily ducked behind a stand, so she was just out of sight, making sure her broom lay flat out in front of her and didn't stick out. She feared she had stood outside observing for too long to be safe of not being seen.

From the cracks of the steps, Bronwyn could see the dots of crimson, speeding across the pitch, at speeds Bronwyn had never seen her team reach. It made her wonder what else the Lions were capable of.

Bronwyn knew from experience, and from personal preferences and morals, that spying is a no-no when it comes to Quidditch. Why would you want to win if you have to cheat to get there? It's like admitting that another team is better than the one you play for. But Bronwyn didn't count staying and watching for just a little bit longer, as "spying". She was simply observing. No foul play here.

James Potter was an advocate for getting a head start with everything. Studying, eating meals, and most definitely training. James made sure to book the Quidditch pitch as soon as he made it to school on September first, knowing full well Professor McGonagall would enthuse the idea of getting ahead of the other three house teams.

And so, at 4:15 am on the first day of lessons, he dragged his teammates to the training field, with no prior warning, beforehand. He believed they needed to be prepared for anything if they wanted to win the Interhouse Cup this year.

Fifteen minutes in and he was confident already. His players had remained in great shape over summer and thankfully, still knew how to fly a broom. His seeking skills were still unmatched, and there was no one there to disturb his contentment.

Besides Bronwyn Ward, tucked under the stands, her broom visible from the outside, and her striking green robes doing nothing for her cover. If anyone hated spying even more than Bronwyn, it was James Potter.

Without a second thought, James swooped down, touching the grass, making his strides clear and confident as he approached the crouching girl, who still believed her cover to not be blown.

"I knew you couldn't win without cheating."

Bronwyn's body jumped out of her skin, stealing her balance temporarily, making being caught even more humiliating. She remained on the balls of her feet, with her knees tucked up to her chest, and her robes brushing the muddy floor, as she turned to look at him.

James towered over her. His robes were superbly clean, and his hair continued to look perfectly styled, even when damp with fifteen minutes' worth of sweat. "I'm not cheating," Bronwyn replied, yet to blink.

James chuckled, scanning the pitch to make sure his players were still in check, before returning to stare her down. "Right yes, and I'm not James Potter," he joked.

Bronwyn's legs were cramping, but she couldn't bring herself to stand up just yet. "I thought you were supposed to be the funny one?" she questioned.

"You wouldn't know — you have no sense of humour."

The whole Gryffindor Quidditch team had stopped mid-air to watch now. James flung an arm about, instructing them to keep going, and after a second, the flapping of robes, and swishing off brooms sounded again.

Bronwyn gave into the aching in her thighs, and pushed up from the ground, using her broom as support. She kicked herself for being just a tiny bit shorter than him. "I do, I'd just rather let people I like enjoy the brilliance of it," she smiled sarcastically, whilst she brushed some mud off of her robes, and shoes, and the whiskers of her broom.

James heaved a sigh. "So what are you doing on my pitch, Ward?" he asked like he was a middle-aged police officer, sick of the rebellious teens in his neighbourhood.

"Not your property, not your pitch."

"For the next," James checked his watch, "hour and a half, it is." Bronwyn tried not to react physically — an hour and a half? At four-thirty in the morning? What kind of practices is this kid running?

     "McGonagall says so." he leaned in a little closer as if he wanted to whisper it to her.

"Oh does she?"

"Mhm," James hummed, "which would make you spying." he twisted the stem of his broom in his hand smoothly, like he had had this exact conversation too many times before.

Bronwyn rolled her eyes, her tongue hitting the roof of her mouth. "I wasn't spying," she said.
"I just wasn't aware Gryffindor had booked the pitch so early in the morning."

"We well had," he stated plainly, briefly surveying the area around her, "and I don't see your team anywhere, so, you were spying."

Bronwyn leaned up against the wooden stands, "Why would I spy on you?" she scoffed in amusement, "Not exactly like you have any techniques that my team haven't already mastered."

Bronwyn wasn't actually confident in her words, with this one. From the five minutes that she had studied the Gryffindor Quidditch practice, her concern for the Slytherin's technique skyrocketed. It had been a month since she had last played with them — who knows the shape they are in. But, if her team had kept the mindset she had left them with before summer, it's Gryffindor who should be worried.

"Oh, so you are funny!" James faked a grin, punching the girl deliberately harshly on the shoulder, before picking off a speck of mud from the serpent emblem of her robes. Bronwyn wondered how it got there, more than why he had bothered to remove it. "I knew there was some kind of comicality inside of you."

Bronwyn forced the same I-really-don't-like-you-right-now smile, nodding her head to pass the time. "Well this has been pleasant, but I'll be off." Bronwyn pushed off of the stands, gripped her broom tighter, and sped past the boy, their shoulders brushing with a swoosh of cold air.

"Nice seeing you," he called back. "Next time, don't get caught!"

Bronwyn groaned to herself once she was certain she was out of earshot — although she wouldn't hate for him to hear her personal complaints about his personality.

She did not wake up at four-thirty in the morning, for that.

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