the girlfriend experience, james potter
𝒔𝒆𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟕

chapter eleven, CONTRACTS AND CONDITIONS

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     "IT'S BASIC PROTOCOL."

     "You sure you're not just being picky because it's me?"

     What was she doing? What was she doing? And she was inflicting it on herself. She had agreed to it. No one was forcing her to do it. She wasn't obliged to do it, but here she was, Bronwyn Ward, aged seventeen (come Tuesday, eighteen), reading out a detailed list of terms and conditions for her newest client, and lifelong nemesis, James Potter.

     He was doing everything in her power to piss her off.

     Currently, he was arguing his side as to why he should be allowed to kiss her during his week-long Girlfriend Experience, which was due to begin on Monday (should Bronwyn go clinically insane and therefore actually go forward with their agreement). He claims that it will make it more "believable" and provide him with more "genuine experience" (a direct quote), while Bronwyn has continuously reminded him that she doesn't do kisses on duty.

     The two of them had relocated to the back of the school library ─ James reluctantly admitted to Bronwyn that he felt uncomfortable with all the stares he was receiving from the Slytherins perturbed by his presence in their common room, while Bronwyn knew he was truthfully just very scared ─ and they were now sitting at a desk opposite each other, with what James considered, a mountain of unnecessary paperwork. Bronwyn can confirm that every last piece of paper is very much necessary. Even with their new location of negotiation, they were still on the receiving end of quite a few aggravated stares from students trying to study peacefully in their library who were now being disturbed by the two of them bickering. 

     "I don't allow any one of my clients a kiss on the lips," Bronwyn said, "so you most definitely do not get to." She can also confirm that James Potter was the last person in the entire school that she would be willing to touch lips with. Her stomach churned.

     James was not giving up so easily. "But it makes it more educational."

     Bronwyn rolled her eyes for the millionth time. "Use the back of your hand if you want educational."

     "That's hardly the same," James said coolly.

     She couldn't help a smirk. "Do it a lot, do you?" Any opening at teasing him during the next week, she was going to jump at, seeing as she basically has to date the idiot.

     James ignored her attempt at taunting him. "All I'm saying is," he said, "we've bathed together, Bronwyn. I don't see why a kiss is such a big deal." His face was decorated with a childish grin.

     "Both are pretty vile in my books." She did not need reminding of the times their mothers put them in the bath together when they were toddlers because she had recently eaten dinner and did not wish for it to make a return.

     As she twizzled her quill in her hand, she stared harshly into his hazel eyes, before focusing her attention on the piece of parchment on the top of the pile, where she scribbled something down at the bottom of an in-progress list.

     She heard his tut. James' head lolled backwards as he quietly groaned. "What are you writing now?"

     Bronwyn didn't look up but instead kept writing when she answered him. "I'm adding do not remind me of naked James Potter to the List." 

     The List in question was an elaborate collection of things that Bronwyn is making sure James does and doesn't do that don't apply to her usual clients. James is . . . special. There are certain things that she would never ask other customers to agree to, but Bronwyn knew James Potter very well. She knew his faults and his needs probably better than he knew them. She knew where he would try and cross the line. And she wanted to make sure he quite literally could not cross that line where she could help it.

     After overly-emphasising her movements as she made a full stop following the sentence she just wrote, she placed her quill back down carefully. Then folded her hands and she cocked her head in his direction. "Problem?"

     James could barely contain his smirk. "Not for me there's not." He winked and she could have sworn her dinner did a somersault halfway through her digestive system.

     She blinked and then blinked again, utterly dumbfounded that he believed he could get away with pissing her off and grossing her out at the same time. "I can still back out," she warned.

     "On what basis?" he queried.

     "Completely and utterly grossed out circumstances."

     James held up a finger and waggled it in the air. "Pretty sure that's not a strong enough reason to deny me service that you've already agreed to."

     Bronwyn leaned in closer, with hopes she could make her message clear enough for his thick skull. "Are you forgetting that this is my business and that I have complete control over the ins and outs?"

     James didn't say anything. His face retreated back into his neck sheepishly. 

     She took his silence as her queue to move on. "Great. Glad we could come to an agreement," she said. "So shall we continue or does not being able to kiss me break your heart so much you'll never be able to love again?"

     James scowled. "Shut up and read me the list."

     Bronwyn smiled, satisfied that he was finally understanding that it was her way or no way. "Okay," she sang, flicking the parchment with the list on it upwards, so she held it upright in front of her. She peered at the words and read, "You are not allowed to: Tell our parents." Her eyes trailed over to him to make sure he was one hundred per cent aware of this rule. "That one is obvious. Before we know it they'll be planning our wedding."

     "Oh Bronwyn," James said, "they've been doing that since we learned how to walk."

     "Point taken. Continuing on," she ran her finger along the contents of, what James considered, a very extensive list. "You are not allowed to attend my Quidditch practices."

     "Does that go both ways?"

     "Sure."

     "Fab."

     "You are only permitted to sit with me for one meal a day-"

     James shuffled forward on his seat, "But on the contract it says-"

     "I don't care what the contract says." She shut him up. James was technically right ─ the contract allows for the client to sit with her for two meals a day, but Bronwyn doesn't think she can handle that much time with James Potter without combusting. She moved swiftly on so he didn't have any more chances to protest. "You are not allowed to talk to my friends-"

     "Friends plural?" James cut her off mid-sentence ─ he felt as though it was about time he tease her again. "Since when?" he sneered.

     Bronwyn smiled sarcastically. "Funny." She read the next rule. She considered it one of the most important. "You are not allowed to insult me in any way shape or form for the next seven days-"

     He leaned over the desk when he spoke. "Sorry, was that allowed to insult you continuously for the next seven days?"

     Bronwyn wondered if James didn't get enough attention as a child and if that was the reason he enjoyed taking the piss at every opportunity handed to him. Then she remembered it was probably just his sucky personality because James Potter was an only child. "I'd like to, once again, direct your attention on who holds the power here, Potter."

     James went silent again. He couldn't risk losing out on Lily Evans yet again. He wouldn't have come to Bronwyn if he didn't think she was his last resort. He decided it was probably best if he just keep Bronwyn happy for now by listening to her terms. "No insults. Gotcha." He snapped his fingers, then made a gun with his index and thumb, aiming it in her direction.

     She was hardly impressed. Bored, she carried on. "I expect a birthday present." Bronwyn believed this to be perfectly reasonable. They had been "friends" for a very long time ─ the least he could do was buy her an eighteenth birthday present.

     Apparently, James' thoughts on the matter weren't the same as her's and he was quick to open his mouth in protest. But Bronwyn cut him off before he could utter a single word. "Considering," she added severely, "I will be your girlfriend come Tuesday."

     James stifled another groan. Through gritted teeth, he said, "Fine. But my price range is limited so make sure the bar is very low."

     "Oh, it's already on the ground." Having celebrated many birthdays with James Potter before, Bronwyn's expectations weren't very high for his gift-giving quality. It's the thought that counts, she supposes?

     "I give great gifts. I'm offended." James said bluntly.

     "You should be," she replied nonchalantly. "Now, I would normally expect you to walk me to all my classes but seeing as I can barely stand the sight of you, two lessons a day shall suffice."

     He couldn't argue with that. "Okay."

     She continued on with the matter at hand ─ the list. "I would prefer if you kept your jokes to a minimum because I find you utterly unfunny and it would just make my job rather painful."

     "Aren't you supposed to be preparing me to be a good boyfriend?"

     She bobbed her head from side to side as if weighing out the two possible answers she could give. "Yes and no," she said. "But if your future girlfriend-"

     "Lily Evans," James answered for her.

     "Right. Lily Evans," Bronwyn was not convinced. "Well, if Lily Evans finds your humour . . . entertaining then that's not really my problem. I'm not exactly going to lose any sleep over feeling sorry for what she is going to have to deal with so I really couldn't care less."

     "I see," he drawled.

     "Well, I think that's it," Bronwyn let the parchment float so it lay flat against the grain of the wooden desk. Her hands fell onto her lap. "Oh and don't use the word fab ever again."

     James' brows furrowed, "I'm not too sure my vocabulary is under your jurisdiction." He questioned slowly.

     Bronwyn raised her eyebrows as if puzzled that he would ever question her authority in this situation. "It is if I'm going to be your girlfriend for a week."

     James didn't want to possibly anger her anymore. "Right. I shall strike fab from my vocabulary effective as of immediately." From this point on, whatever Bronwyn Ward says, goes. And James Potter couldn't believe he was going to live by that for the next seven days.

     Bronwyn sighed dreamily, "Ah, how I do love controlling your every decision."

     James Potter was a handful. Bronwyn has been discovering new evidence to support that statement every day. But, this was her business. And he clearly was in desperate need of her help. If he followed her rules and abided by the contract, the next week will be just like any other work. And if he pissed her off too much, she'll just have to up the price. Simple.

     She could do this.

     Bronwyn fished out a stapled document ─ since her business set off, she has become quite accustomed to Muggle stationery (it has prevailed rather useful) ─ and handed it to him. "Here is your copy of the contract. Please sign it and hand-deliver it to my dorm by noon tomorrow. Read it. Study it-"

     James' eyes (which were once glued to the paper she had just handed him, scanning the words for any obvious miscarriages of justice she no doubt was going to specially serve him) suddenly flew up to meet hers. "Study it?" he seemed utterly appalled by the idea of doing extra work. His Potions' essays were enough as it was. "Surely that's a bit excessive-"

     "Not your judgment to make, son," Bronwyn argued. "I do not want you doing anything you have already agreed not to do. Capeesh?"

     "Capeesh," James droned.

     "Fab," she flashed him a wide, bright grin. His shoulders sank irritatedly. "We start Monday."

     There was something different in James' step as he walked alone back to Gryffindor tower. He was waiting until he got into bed to read over the contract fully, but there was an exciting urge that he was fighting that made him want to stop where he was and read it right there in the hallway. Or, even better, he simply wanted to sign it without reading a single word.

     The Girlfriend Experience hadn't started yet for James, but even then, he felt like this was going to work. It was miracle enough that he had convinced (well . . . ) Bronwyn to agree to help him. So that's how he knew it. He knew it as he walked with pride and joy and self-satisfaction all through the empty corridors of Hogwarts Castle. He knew that this was how he was finally going to get Lily Evans to fall in love with him.

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