the girlfriend experience, james potter
𝒔𝒆𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟕

chapter six, SPONGES AND SENTENCES

✧ ━━━ · ✦ · ━━━ ✧

     "AND YOU AGREED TO IT??"

     "What else was I supposed to do??"

     Andromeda Black couldn't quite believe Bronwyn Ward's actions when Bronwyn told her how she had given in to James Potter's demands apparently quite easily. The girl couldn't fathom not only how James had exerted that much power onto Bronwyn, but also how Bronwyn had gone forward with and enjoyed the prank he made her help out with. It came as no surprise that the Gryffindor's exigence involved some form of practical joke. It's not like he would have forced Bronwyn to do his homework for a week or let him cheat off of her tests in class.

     The Great Hall was dry now, an hour after James and Bronwyn's downpour. The Professors were far from amused and had probably been on a wild goose chase trying to find the culprits, which is hilarious to Bronwyn because a) she was one of them and they apparently suspected nothing and b) James Potter and Co. should always be the prime suspects. This told Bronwyn, James Potter had disappeared somewhere not to be found.

     Some of the kids were still quite mortified and definitely still hungry since the dining hall was now pretty much full, but this time the students ate with caution and the food was dry once more.

     Bronwyn had returned to her dorm shortly after abandoning James in a corridor and immediately informed her dormmate and best friend of her latest actions. Andromeda was clearly not impressed but was still rather peckish, so she decided to continue stating her opinions on Bronwyn's decision to help James Potter ─ Andromeda, much like Bronwyn, thinks he is a complete imbecile ─ but while eating dinner. Bronwyn found it quite funny returning to the scene of the crime being one of the two criminals to have imposed the hex, only an hour into the aftermath.    

     Bronwyn took another bite out of her chicken pie, unfazed, as her best friend stared at her wide-eyed. "I dunno, defend yourself?" Andromeda jutted out her neck; her cutlery now resting on her plate. "Deny a child like James Potter the authority to make you do that? Say no? It was hardly a one-way street, Bronwyn."

Bronwyn understands Andromeda's point of view completely, but she still has no regrets. Even if she was feeding into James Potter's game, and agreeing to help a boy with the personality of the conventional twat. "You weren't there."

Andromeda laughed out loud. "Oh right, because Potter's powerful stance and intimidating presence would have convinced me."

Bronwyn's tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth. "I mean, you don't understand my reasoning." She replied. "I can't risk my Quidditch position. And he just happened to threaten that. Believe me, I won't become his "prank puppet" just because I helped him once."

"God I hope not."

The two Slytherins barely got the chance to take another bite of their un-soggy dinner, when the Universe decided to laugh at them. It had clearly been listening intently to their conversation and surprised them with a dinner delight.

Speak of the Devil.

It turns out James Potter had also been listening in on their conversation, from a distance. Just briefly, but definitely deliberately. James amused himself with Bronwyn's uncalled-for, unprecedented hatred towards him.

James strolled confidently up behind them, they just didn't know it yet, until his incredibly distinct, and annoying for that matter, voice rang in their ears. "Bronwyn, doll-"

Andromeda's cutlery fell onto her plate again, this time with a painful clattering sound. She let out an exasperated sigh and groan. "Oh God, now he disturbs us at dinner?" She had yet to turn around, but his voice was so recognisable (and his face so irritating to look at) that she didn't need to turn around. She cocked her head in her friend's direction, while James smirked and locked his fingers in a clasp behind his back, "Bronwyn, what have you done?"

Bronwyn took a second to suck in a deep breath. You never know what to expect when it comes to James Potter.

James chuckled to himself. "Evening to you too, Annie." He smiled sarcastically. "Don't worry, I won't be staying long, you'll be happy to hear, considering my presence is so intimidating." He teased, and yet another groan was heard from Andromeda now it was made clear to them both that the boy had been eavesdropping. "Bronwyn, McGonagall wants to see you in her office."

No matter if she was trying to enjoy her dinner with her best friend in peace, Bronwyn couldn't help but swing around her top half and stare blankly at the Gryffindor peering over her. "Why does she suspect me?" She asked. "It's totally understandable she concluded you were involved, but what made her think I did this?"

James shrugged, and stated bluntly: "I told her."

Andromeda scoffed appalled, and Bronwyn's eyes just seemed to get wider.

"I'm sorry, repeat please?" Bronwyn demanded.

"I told her you helped me." James replied.

James had already been to McGonagall. In fact, he, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew and of course, Sirius Black, had all been interrogated by the Professor already since they were always, as Bronwyn had rightly deducted, the prime suspects when it comes to pranks as public as this one. Remus and Peter pleaded their innocence and Sirius explained his alibi since he was in detention, and James ─ since he had already been caught and wanted to avoid the fuss ─ calmly confessed. He just decided to drag Bronwyn down with him.

Bronwyn scoffed, and Andromeda seemed rather pleased with herself since she was once again, prooving Bronwyn right: don't ever involve yourself with James Potter under any circumstance.

A sly grin was beginning to form on James' face as Bronwyn gawked at him."You ratted me out?"

"If that's how you want to put it," he said, "then yes, yes I did rat you out."

"This is what you get for succumbing to James Potter and his needs." Andromeda announced, apparently past the shocked faze, now brandishing a rather amused look as she tucked right back into her roast potatoes.

"And why did you do that exactly??" Bronwyn asked incredulously, deliberately ignoring her friend's responses.

Another shrug, "Didn't want to take all the blame. Less punishment this way. Equally shared, you see."

He looked awfully proud, and that just annoyed Bronwyn further. "Oh, I see," she sang. "You felt selfish after I selflessly gave you a hand."

James' smirk was replaced with a bored expression, "No, I blackmailed you. You didn't do it out of your own honourableness. We've been over this, Bronwyn, so please, just comply. It's easier that way."

"Easy for you to say." Bronwyn said. "You do this shit on the daily. Bet McGonagall's office is your second home what with the trouble you get into."

And the smirk had returned. "That's about right, yes. Well observed, Bronwyn." He stepped aside and held his hand out towards the entrance of the hall. "Do you need me to show you there since it's so familiar to me?"

Bronwyn resisted the urge to roll her eyes, as she got to her feet in one swift, sharp movement. She stepped away from the table and looked James directly in the eyes. "Patronise me one more time, Potter, and I swear to God I'll hex your ass."

One side of his mouth hitched up into a quick smile, before Bronwyn stormed past his side, and headed for her sentence; James trailing awkwardly behind.

"Miss Ward, do come in."

Professor McGonagall's office was located far too far for this late into the evening. Bronwyn was pissed at James, ─ for obvious reasons ─ was running on an empty stomach, and was about to get a talk from her Transfiguration teacher. The fun was nice while it lasted, but she should have known it would end in the blink of an eye.

Bronwyn shuffled inside the office following the curt voice; James strolled in casually, shortly after. "Evening, Professor." She said with a nod.

Once James was settled in the seat beside Bronwyn ─ it took an aggravatingly long amount of time ─ the Professor sat opposite them lapped her hands into one another and leaned forward into her chair. "Now." She said flatly, and yet her voice was still the same high pitched tune as always. "It has since come to my attention that you and Mr Potter here executed a practical joke earlier this evening, and I would have you know, it was incredibly unruly."

Bronwyn gritted her teeth, as she peered over at James. The boy had since crossed one leg over the other, and relaxed into the back of the chair, with his hands locked, resting on his thigh. He looked as smug as ever. And Bronwyn hated it. Even if she was technically guilty.

She took a breath and turned her head back to the Professor. "I'd just like to say th-"

McGonagall interrupted her, "Your earlier actions were completely unacceptable-"

"I'd like it known that Potter-"

"-And I have issued you both a detention, which will begin effective immediately."

Bronwyn didn't care for her previous protests anymore. It didn't matter if she wanted to try and convince the Professor that James had blackmailed her and forced her into doing something she didn't want to do (it had some truth to it, but peer pressure was not a crime James was guilty of) because the word "immediately" was too harsh to just brush past.

"But it's nearly eight, Miss," Bronwyn said, "and I haven't finished my dinner ye-"

"You should have thought about that before you decided to ruin everyone else's dinner." Professor McGonagall countered, causing Bronwyn to sink in her chair ─ there was no way she could argue with that, even if McGonagall wasn't a superior.

"Mr Filch will be waiting for you at the third-floor bathrooms shortly. You are dismissed."

Bronwyn chewed the inside of her mouth, waited a moment, before abruptly getting up from her seat and exiting the way she came in.

She heard a few mumbles from back inside the office, shortly followed by the clacking of footsteps on the cobbled floor, chasing after her.

James jogged up to her side, seemingly unaffected by a late-night attention. Bronwyn did not feel the same and despised the flickers of a grin on his face. "I blame you for this." She said bluntly.

"I bet you do." James replied. "Funny that. Your inability to take responsibility for your actions has been making itself incredibly evident, as of late."

Bronwyn had absolutely no desire to reply, nor to continue the conversation, and so she strode onwards to the third-floor bathrooms, where she can only imagine fun awaited her.

Bronwyn hates Argus Filch. His hair is greasy, he looks like a naked mole-rat and has the attitude of a racist 90-year-old woman with health problems. Not to mention, he hates kids. Wonder why he works in a school.

"So." The old man cocked an eyebrow.

The third floor bathrooms were cold at night. They were never pleasant during the day, and when you know you're going to be in them for a long time, most likely doing some hard labour during detention on a night in September, it's hardly going to be a delight.

"Ya thawt it'd be funny if ya soaked everywun in the Great 'All did ya?" Filch droned.

Bronwyn heard James mutter the word "yes" under his breath from beside her.

Argus apparently didn't hear and went on: "Well, who's laughing naow? Clean all o' the bathrooms in the main castle, excluding the basement, dungeons an' towers."

He said it like it was nothing. He said it with a grin on his face. He and James share similar traits. Don't tell James that Bronwyn thought of that.

Filch adding the: "'Ave fun" on the end, didn't make matters better. She tried not to groan, but her head still fell back.

There were no more instructions and no more confrontation. He left them with two buckets, two cloths and a bit of Muggle bleach and cleaning liquid. Oh, and a lone sponge. The caretaker limped off, walking through the gap between the two students, but as he was walking away, his feet stopped shuffling along the floor, and Bronwyn knew that meant he was yet to leave.

His throat croaked as he cleared it, "Oh an' I'll 'av your wands, please?"

Bronwyn and James shared a dubious glance as they turned inwards to face the shrivelling old man. "I'm sorry, you expect us to do all of that, without magic?" she questioned.

"That's wha' I said, isn't it?" Filch murmured, revealing a crack in his mouth so his yellow, wonky teeth were on display.

Why argue? Is what Bronwyn thought as she watched James sigh and hand over his wand. It would be harder work to stand there and dispute with Argus Filch than it would be to clean all of the bathrooms without magic. So with her own sigh, she reluctantly pulled out her own wand from the inside of her robe and held it out for the caretaker to take.

Bronwyn did everything herself. She hated getting help, and she certainly never asked for it. She strived for independence at every chance she got. Why do you think she started a business? The money, yes, but she wanted to make something for herself. Sure she got help when The Girlfriend Experience started to shape into something, but she created herself. She didn't ask for help, and she still doesn't. And yet it took all of three seconds after Filch was out of the door, for Bronwyn to cave:

"I'll pay you to get me out of this."

James looked surprised, but that surprise quickly moulded into satisfaction when he realised who it was asking for his help. He revelled in the power that he held over her. He slid his hands into his pockets and rocked forward onto the balls of his feet. "Ah, see, Miss Ward, I don't care for the money."

"I'll do all your homework for a week." She offered but when he winced, Bronwyn quickly tried again with a different offer. "Be your personal servant." Bronwyn came to her last and final idea when James showed no interest, and she grimaced a little before she said it: "Show you my boobs?"

So, first, she asks for help (a rare, if not, unheard of concept), and then she proceeds to plead and beg James Potter, all while offering up her own modesty? Purely because she can't be bothered to clean a few toilets?

James snorted, but stopped any further laughter, as he thought he could save it for later. "Tempting, truly, but no thanks." He said before explaining his reasoning: "I ace all my homework on my own, Pete does anything I ask him to, and I'm currently working on something in that department anyway."

Bronwyn, surprisingly, didn't vomit on the spot at James' wink, because she decided to tease him instead. Her bottom lip enveloped her top one, and she made her eyes big and soft like a puppy's. "Aw, has ickle James got a wickle school-boy crush?"

James strolled over to one of the buckets and threw the cloth over his shoulder. "If that's how you want to put it, then yes, yes he has."

As the boy began making a water-soap concoction with water from the tap, his bucket quickly filling to the brim with fluffy clouds of bubbles, Bronwyn smirked profusely. She had never heard James talk about his love life. Of course, he had bragged plenty about his brief hookups and "snog achievements" (Bronwyn found the misogyny delightful) but something about this one was different. Like James Potter was actually capable of feelings of real affection.

She decided to pursue it.

Bronwyn waltzed over to her bucket and began filling that up too. "Lemme guess. Alice Fortescue?"

"Her eyes are too big."

Bronwyn was taken aback for a second, her confidence briefly faltering, before she picked herself up again and ignored his brash statement. "Okay." She prolonged. "Emmeline Vance?" She looked at him fascinated.

"Laughs too loud."

It was another dull-tone answer, but Bronwyn continued anyway. "Florence Deighton?"

He grimaced, "Slytherin."

Bronwyn decided she shouldn't take that into offence considering this is James Potter (Gryffindor pride and all!). Besides, that debate would take too long. She moved on to her next guess: "Marlene McKinnon?"

"Pretty sure she's a lesbian."

She was running out of ideas. "Sirius??"

James had since picked up the sponge and began scrubbing each sink, but he had now stopped and was staring at Bronwyn with a spiritless look. "I'm straight."

"Sure you are." Bronwyn replied with a bright, flashy grin, as she started on the toilet basins. "But if you say so." She singsonged.

There was a few seconds of silence as Bronwyn debated her next guess.

When she finally got it, she got up from her knees from where she was scrubbing the bowl of a toilet (not fun by the way) and span on the spot to face him. James raised his eyebrows, curious to see if she would guess his "wickle schoolboy crush" right.

"Okay." She said. "I bet it's Bertha Jorkins." Bronwyn had raised her fingers and clicked them once, before making a gun notion.

Bronwyn had strayed off-topic. Completely.

James shrugged. "Too much of a nerd."

Her shoulders sagged. "God, have you personally evaluated and rated every girl at this school?"

James still looked down at the sink he was scrubbing. "Not you, I haven't."

"Why? Not enough bad things to say about me?" She smirked.

"Too many bad things to say about you."

"Harsh."

James dropped the sponge into the sink, and put one hand on his hip, "Bronwyn, dear." His voice had softened, patronisingly. "I would never go there. Now, get to cleaning."

✧

"I STILL WANNA KNOW."

"That's exciting."

"I bet it's hilarious."

"That's nice for you."

The pair were on their third bathroom of the night. Toilet after toilet, sink after sink. The one sponge they had between them was on its last legs.

It had just gone ten, and Bronwyn had fallen asleep once already. But there was one thing keeping her going: finding out who James Potter was in love with.

"Why won't you tell me?" Bronwyn moaned.

James chuckled. "I'm surprised you don't already know."

Bronwyn didn't know. And now she wanted to know even more. James Potter was never one for being an introvert, nor was he one for keeping to himself. So for Bronwyn not to know, was quite weird. And aggravating. Especially since they are childhood "friends". It is important to acknowledge the "" used.

She contained her laugh. "Why, are you a complete and utter fool when it comes to this mystery girl? Embarrassed yourself a few times? Had your love letters exposed?" She listed just a few of the possible scenarios she predicted had happened between James and his girl crush. She had come up with them when scrubbing the floor in the boys' bathroom on the second floor.

"Nah, who am I kidding?" She said after a second. "Of course, you have."

James went a little red, but he was quick to conceal it. "I'll have you know all of that is false." He defended. "Don't trust anything Sirius says."

"Believe me, I was never going to."

James stopped for a second and watched the girl dip her cloth into the soapy water in her bucket that was slowly turning brown. And it occurred to him: he and Bronwyn are the only pair of childhood friends he knows that have no liking for each other after all of the years shared between them.

The Wards and the Potters have always been close. So naturally, their children were going to be too. Of course, that's how it was supposed to go. It didn't actually end up that way because even as kids in Primary School, James and Bronwyn bickered like the children they still are today. And even progressing into Wizarding school, surely childhood supposed-to-be "best friends" would stay in touch even a little? Nope. James and Bronwyn hardly even communicated for the first few years at Hogwarts. Only when they had to.

James broke the silence. "What do you have against me anyway? Even when we were kids, you hated my guts."

Bronwyn sighed, dreamily. "Ah, what a time ─ embarrassing seven-year-old James Potter in front of the rest of Year 2. It was so easy to make you unappealing to the girls in Primary School."

"You single-handedly destroyed my dating life in Primary School." James replied, soaking in the nostalgia as his cloth soaked in the water. "I will never forgive you for it. My revenge is imminent."

Bronwyn winced. "Ten years too late, my friend."

"But seriously." James said after a moment. "What is so wrong with me, that you won't admit we're friends even in an unconventional way?"

"Do you really want me to answer that, James?"

He shrugged a little. "Maybe not." He replied, dismissing any curious thoughts he had. Some questions are to remain answered, he concluded. "Well, look at us! Cleaning like pros!" he exclaimed needing to fill the gap that stretched out after his last mumble. He flayed his arms about, splattering soap along the walls and floor seeing as he had a soaking cloth in one of his hands. Bronwyn shook away her urge to laugh. "We really are giving magic a run for its money."

Bronwyn hummed. "Hm yes, our mothers would be delighted."

"I'm gonna grow on you, you know." James said self-assuringly; his chin lifted.

Bronwyn's head tilted to the side slightly. "Want a bet?"

"Yes actually." James said. "You'll like me eventually. You won't even see it coming."

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