the girlfriend experience, james potter
𝒔𝒆𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟕

chapter twenty-two, ARSON AND ASSESSMENTS

✧ ━━━ · ✦ · ━━━ ✧

OUR DARLING BRONWYN,

I hope you had a nice day on your birthday, and that James spoiled you! I'm so glad he and you are getting closer. Euphemia and I were so pleased to hear that you've been getting along.

I've already offered to host Christmas and Mia said she'd host New Year's in exchange! How lovely!

I assume school is going well and that you'll write—

Bronwyn couldn't read much further because she was too preoccupied with the first paragraph of her mother's weekly letters. And because she was currently on the hunt for the boy at issue.

I'm so glad he and you are getting closer? Since fucking when? And according to who? Because Bronwyn sure isn't stupid enough to give her mother even the slightest of hopes that she and James will end up together.

So it had to have been James. Considering their mothers had been desperately trying to get the two of them together since they were conceived, this was not good news. Not only had James now got their mothers' hopes up, but Bronwyn was no doubt going to have to be the one to break the news to them ─ that she was far from fond of James Potter and didn't have any plans concerning getting closer to him. So now she looked like a dick.

James didn't see a problem. This was evident as she stared down at him from where he lounged on one of the sofas at the back of the library on that sunny Sunday morning.

"You told your mother that you and I had gotten closer?" She asked exasperatedly, holding up the letter in question which incriminated her.

"Yes?" James shrugged, jutting out his neck, not quite sure when the issue at hand would present itself. "Come on, you know that's all they want to hear."

This was true but not all of it. James knew that anything regarding their children's relationship would please both Euphemia and Niamh and so he did what he felt he had to do to please them. James had thus decided to tell his mother that he and Bronwyn had bonded over long-lost Quidditch rivalry and their shared love for baking (of course he avoided mentioning the fact that he was paying her for dating advice) and he didn't see anything wrong with that. He would like to think that the start of this school year had been the most relationship-developing of them all.

Bronwyn clearly didn't see it that way.

"Are you seriously that set on ruining my life?"

James let out an incredulous scoff at the way she was reacting. And in a library of all places. "Sorry," a deep wrinkle formed between his brows, "what is your problem exactly?"

"She's gone and told my mother, obviously," Bronwyn rolled her eyes, "and now at Christmas, they're going expect us to be all friendly."

James got to his feet, resisting the urge to walk away from this ridiculous conversation, and squared in on her. "Awh, I'm sorry, Bronwyn, is that not possible for you?"

James had backed her against the bookcase challengingly and she swallowed down the urge to push him back onto the sofa to rid her and everyone else in this library of his ever-present smirk. "No, actually."

"I'm very excited for our date later then," James grinned, tipping his head so their faces met. How could she not admit that it was perfectly reasonable for the two of them to act at least civil in front of their mothers? She couldn't despise him so much that even acting was impossible. They had already been fake dating for the past week for Merlin's sake.

"Oh, I'm just ecstatic," Bronwyn smiled sarcastically back.

According to the schedule, Sunday, the very final day meant:

O̶N̶L̶Y̶ b̶r̶e̶a̶k̶f̶a̶s̶t̶ at the Slytherin table is r̶e̶q̶u̶i̶r̶e̶d̶ for the seventh day due to the second and final date, planned by the client for a final assessment, at their chosen time of day.

Satisfied with her response ─ even if it was clear she didn't mean it ─ James backed away, retrieved his book from the arm of the sofa, and slumped back into the cushions. "Fantastic," he muttered under his breath but Bronwyn was already storming off to avoid any more of a racket to be made in a place of quiet.

The date in question, however, was not at all fantastic as James had lied. He didn't have any fucking clue what he was going to do and he was running out of time until he had to present something to her.

It wasn't like he could go basic because basic wasn't good enough for Lily Evans. It had to be perfect for Bronwyn. Well, at least perfect because he was being assessed. Not because he wanted to give Bronwyn a perfect evening, of course . . .

✧

"EXCITED TO BE DONE WITH ANOTHER CLIENT?" Andromeda asked them as they crossed the courtyard, approaching the edge of the castle.

"I wouldn't class James Potter as another client," Bronwyn chuckled to herself, the September breeze nipping at her nose where the courtyard was exposed to the sky.

A wrinkle formed between Andromeda's brows. "In a good way or a bad way?" Andromeda would have been certain that Bronwyn's immediate response to her question would have involved some kind of gagging and wiping imaginary sweat from her forehead. James Potter was a piece of work, client or not.

Bronwyn cocked her head to the side. "Undecided."

"Hang on a minute." Andromeda quite literally made them halt rather sharply in the middle of the courtyard. "James Potter potentially impressed you?" If Bronwyn hadn't concluded that James Potter would be a terrible boyfriend then it wasn't obvious. And could mean . . . he was average? Andromeda was shocked.

"Don't sound so surprised."

Bronwyn couldn't respond because, as if like magic, they had summoned the boy in question.

"Not surprised," Andromeda said, holding up her hands in surrender. "Just in disbelief." She muttered that last part under her breath. And while she wasn't loud enough for James to hear, Bronwyn sent her a challenging glare.

Bronwyn decided to change the topic as quickly as she could. "Disturbing me when you're not supposed to, Potter?" She asked with raised brows, turning towards him and popping a hip. Her bag made a clattering sound from where it was so heavily filled. "I'll take notes."

"Hey, I still have tonight to change your opinion of me, Ward," James said, his face scrunched up in a frown. He then took a tentative step towards Bronwyn and lowered his voice along with his chin. "Speaking of, can I talk to you for a minute?" He then lifted his gaze to Andromeda and said: "Alone?"

Andromeda's eyes flicked to Bronwyn who shrugged casually before she rolled them and took an exaggerated step backwards. James straightened out and tilted his head to the side. Andromeda took the hint and consequently took another step and even turned around for good measure.

"So," James said, locking his hands together in front of his body. "I sort of need some help with that final assessment. I'm kind of out of ideas." He winced as if that would soften the blow.

"So, you came to me because you thought I would help you?" Bronwyn asked incredulously. Was this boy hearing himself?

James hesitated, then dropped his eye-line to the floor, muttering an embarrassed, "Yes."

"I'm not allowed to help you, James!" Bronwyn chuckled dryly. "That kind of goes against the whole point of the assessment."

"Then I've already failed." James' arms flew up at the sides.

Bronwyn stared at the boy far from impressed. He was like a child who wasn't getting his way. Which is essentially what was happening in a literal sense. "Pull yourself together, James."

His shoulders sagged in disappointment. Considering he had thought long and hard about what he should do later and had even asked for second and third and fourth opinions from his ─ apparently useless ─ friends, he was already too far gone in terms of pulling himself together.

"Right." James nodded once as if punctuating the end of a sentence. "Got it."

Bronwyn watched the way his eyes narrowed in slightly, dipping at the sides in defeat. James had already impressed her quite a lot with his dating game ─ not in any other ways, he was still the same person, after all ─ and for some reason, she found herself wanting to give him the benefit of the doubt. Give him a hint of something. As if . . . he deserved it?

"Just tailor to what the person likes," she sighed. "You've only known me for eighteen years, I think you can come up with something."

James nodded his head as he absorbed this information, looking slightly more optimistic that this clue could trigger a whole load of ideas. Once he had mentally noted her words in his head, he could now process that Bronwyn had given in and was actually helping him.

"Thanks," he said, his lips curving upwards.

"Is that everything?" She asked. "I have plans." Bronwyn motioned behind her where Andromeda was still hovering, her back to them.

James felt the FOMO hit him like a truck going too fast. He couldn't help but feel that way whenever he saw Bronwyn living her life without him there. He always got the uncomfortable feeling ─ something he couldn't shake even if he tried to ─ that he wanted to be with her whenever she was laughing or doing something fun.

Yuck. He needed to get out of his own head.

Still, he asked with furrowed brows, curiousity getting the better of him: "Where are you going?"

"Outside," Bronwyn shrugged. This information was obvious, and James conveyed his boredom when his shoulders wilted. Bronwyn noticed his annoyance and so added an extra detail to please him: "For some peace and quiet."

Peace and quiet was quite a foreign concept for James Potter. He was rowdy, and playful and tended to try and make it everyone else's business. He was fun, in his words. He decided to take note of this tidbit of information ─ he was certain peace and quiet was a very Lily Evans kind of thing, even if it wasn't something he was used to, per se.

"Right," he finally said, something brewing in that chaotic mind of his. "Well, have fun. I'll see you later."

Bronwyn hummed. "Ah, later. When this week will finally be over!" Her arms flayed at her side and she made a scene of grinning from ear to ear.

James rarely saw Bronwyn smile so widely when she was with him and he didn't like how she was doing it because she was teasing him. He pointed a stern finger at her and said, "Don't you dare act as though this week has been difficult."

Bronwyn bit down on her smile but the curves still showed. "I'll do what I like, Potter." James couldn't help but smile. "What are you going to do about it?"

James wanted to be the reason Bronwyn smiled so toothily, so effortlessly, as if she didn't have a care in the world. He wanted to be the one to make her laugh and the one to make all her weeks happy. So that was what he was going to do.

"I'm going to give you the best date of your life, Bronwyn Ward."

✧

JAMES PICKED BRONWYN UP FROM THE SLYTHERIN COMMON ROOM at seven o'clock with a bouquet of flowers he had hand-picked from the grassy grounds outside of the greenhouses.

Bronwyn didn't know how to feel as she walked from her dorm room to the stone wall exit because she hadn't seen James anywhere in the castle since they bumped into each other earlier.

Sure, it's a big place, but James Potter always managed to make himself known wherever he went. And yet, nada. It was like he wasn't even on the school grounds. This either meant he was working very slyly and putting a lot of effort into this date so much he wanted to be stealthy in his creation (a good thing). Or he had been napping all day and hadn't left the Gryffindor common room at all (equally as possible).

But the flowers were a good start, and she went with him willingly, albeit a little bit sceptical.

When they made it to the edge of the castle, the courtyard that led out onto the grassy hills that made up the journey to the Quidditch stadium, James came to a stop and pulled something out of his backpack.

"You're going to need to put this on."

He held the invisibility cloak out to her. Bronwyn eyed the material ─ a glossy sheen fabric sprinkled with glitter. Definitely something that suited James Potter, was her first thought. Her second came with a furrowed brow. "Sneaking around and breaking the rules isn't very Lily Evans," she told him, taking the cloak.

James knew this. The cloak's primary use was to allow him and his friends to execute forbidden activities and that wasn't very Lily Evans approved. But he wasn't on a date with Lily Evans.

"No," he agreed, a sly smile sliding onto his face, "but it is very Bronwyn Ward."

Bronwyn cocked her head to the side. If he was implying that she and him were anything alike ─ besides their competitiveness and cockiness ─ then he was sorely mistaken.

"Then you don't know me very well."

"Yes, I do," he said smugly before shrugging innocently, "I just know the parts you don't like anyone to know."

Once they were both huddled under the clock, bodies pressed up against each other, very suddenly breathing in each other's air, James led the way, careful not to reveal either of them in the process by walking too fast. Bronwyn wondered where he was taking them that required them to stay hidden. She was even more curious when he brought them to the broom shed ─ the very same one they cleaned out together earlier that week.

James escorted them inside, shutting the door behind them and, now hidden, slid the cloak off them, revealing her unimpressed stare and furrowed brows.

"If this is your idea of a date," she said with a bored expression, "then I suggest you forget about Lily Evans right now."

James rolled his eyes at her blatant lack of faith in him. "Please, Bronwyn," he said. "I may be a twat sometimes—"

"All the time," she corrected.

He ignored her and folded up the cloak, returning it to his backpack. "But I'm not about to subject you to a date in a broom shed. It smells like mould and, if you don't remember, we've already rendezvoused here." He winked and Bronwyn felt ill. Maybe it was the dampness.

"Anyway," James picked up on the desperate need for a change of subject before she walked out, "all we came here for was a broom." He picked one off of the neatly organised floating shelving unit. "And now we've got one, if you would kindly mount the broom, we can be off."

James opened the shed door and got on the front of the broom. He twisted behind him to look at her but she wasn't moving.

Bronwyn was still confused but admittedly intrigued. "You know we can't leave the school grounds, right? It's already bad enough we've left the castle—"

"Just get on the broom please?" he sighed. "I haven't worked hard all day for you to just say no."

So, he hadn't been napping all day.

She should at least then give him a chance.

James ushered her one last time onto the broom behind him and, however reluctant she was, Bronwyn mounted the magical contraption and found herself weirdly trusting James as he thrust them out of the shed and into the air.

Wind whipped through her hair, and she was met with the cool, biting sensation from the rapid breeze; the one she loved so much when she was flying in a match. He tipped them and drove them forward, up and up and up, the castle slowly getting smaller in the background.

Bronwyn was surprised, to say the least when she realised, he wasn't taking her off the castle grounds. And as tempting as the Scottish Highlands were, that would be against the rules and if he knew her as well as he claimed, then he should know, she didn't fancy getting in any more trouble because of him and his damn cloak.

In fact, they didn't go very far at all. He rounded the turrets of the towers surrounding the courtyard and flew them over the practice pitch and across the real pitch. He came to a stop once he had circled one of the viewing towers, hovering at the back where an opening appeared.

James dove forward just enough to plant them on the floor of a restricted platform within the viewing tower, beneath the seats, beside the staircase, hidden by a dividing wall.

Inside, Bronwyn could see what he had done with such an isolated location ─ one they couldn't reach without knowing it was there.

There was a picnic blanket sprawled out across the floorboards, with a basket set off to the side, food practically bursting from the seams. Candles dotted around the little platform, twinkling in the glow of what remained of the day that was now pouring in from the gap they had just come in from.

Bronwyn would have been anxious about how high up there were on what seemed like such a rickety tower, but once she had set down the broom, she could then appreciate the view for what it was.

Where James had parted the tent fabric in half, the scene behind was breathtaking. Rolls of hills coated in a mist that trickled all the way down to the stream that lined the earth below. Shades of green and brown, smooth grass and rocky paths. While the sky was greying, the sun peaked through the low-hanging clouds just as it was setting, soaking the castle's grounds in a warm, yellow glow. It brushed against her cheeks, where the wind couldn't reach her.

"I found the rip in the fabric at practice last week," he told her. She had been curious ─ such a tucked away, hidden nook like this couldn't have been any easy feat to find. "Only remembered it earlier. Thought that if it was ripped a little, why not a bit more?"

Bronwyn had never been speechless before. And James was elated that he was the one to render her this way. It was what gave him the confidence to grin arrogantly ─ even when she hated it when he did that ─ rocking back and forth on his heels as she stared at the date set-up.

"I'm waiting for my standing ovation."

She spun to look at him and while he deserved the praise he was expecting, the self-satisfied look on his face and the way he lifted his chin above his folded arms, meant she was reluctant to give it.

"Can Lily Evans fly a broom?" Bronwyn questioned with a raised brow. She wasn't going to let him think he had done a perfect job ─ James Potter never (under any circumstances) deserved bragging rights. It's what made their bet about the Plumpton Pass so important to her. She was going to nail him in their bet during her match against Ravenclaw in a couple of months.

But of course ─ James had an answer for everything.

"But this isn't a date I would take her on," he shrugged, uncrossing his arms and tucking them behind his back as he took two slow, deliberate steps in her direction. "You said to tailor to my date's interests. And for you, that's flying."

Dammit. He had one-upped her. And for their seventeen-year-long feud, this didn't look good for her.

Bronwyn found herself sighing. "You never cease to amaze me, Potter."

"Before you elaborate," he held out a pointed finger, "I'm taking that as a compliment."

"Never take anything I say as a compliment."

"Too late," he grinned.

They took up their place on the picnic blanket he had laid out ─ all red and white gingham ─ and popped a bottle of non-alcoholic spritz. He had even picked out plastic wine glasses for them to use ─ sensible and classy.

Ugh, she hated how well he was doing. And she hated how nice the seltzer tasted.

In an attempt to find something ─ anything ─ wrong with the date he had curated, Bronwyn thought it was only right if she went through the picnic basket to analyse the contents. The first item closest to the top was—

"Cookies," James nodded. "The same recipe we used because I know how much of a hit they were."

Pleasantly surprised, Bronwyn thought she would keep going, letting him explain every item in the basket and give the reason it was there. James was glad of this ─ it meant he could show just how much he had thought about her.

Next, Bronwyn lifted a jar of a brown substance. "Marmite." James' face soured in a disgusted expression. "Because you're weird like that."

Bronwyn's mouth dropped open in offensive but she wasn't going to get into that debate because James would never agree with her ─ their taste buds had always been vastly different.

"Crackers. Because everyone said they tended to be found in picnics." James shrugged and Bronwyn couldn't help but chuckle.

"Where's the cheese?" She asked curiously. Where there are crackers, there is usually cheese. And this was a picnic.

James shrugged nonchalantly. "You don't like cheese."

No, she didn't. In fact, she rarely told people this fact about her because cheese was such a universally loved item of food. It went with everything, you could have it in so many ways, in so many dishes, and there were so many types. And yet, Bronwyn couldn't bring herself to like it. In any of its forms, with any other food she liked even.

James knew this. So, he kept it out. If she didn't like it, he wasn't going to bother adding it to a picnic basket for a date designed for her. He wasn't that bothered about cheese anyway.

"I told you I know you." There was something so annoying about the way he spoke so casually. As if this was a trivial thing. Bronwyn didn't often let people know things about her, intimate things, even if it was about cheese. But James knew these things and acted as though that fact wasn't a big deal. But it was.

Bronwyn could probably list off quite a few obscure things she knew about James. But what she couldn't ignore was how much useless information about herself he had paid attention to and made them not useless anymore. It may not have been intentional, how intimately he tailed her life, but he did it anyway. Because that's the way James was and always had been. An admirer.

At school, he put on a front ─ a bolshy, confident, playful prankster. But alone, James was just the boy she grew up with.

Bronwyn had never considered just how closely aligned her and James' lives were. How their mothers would have been pregnant at the same time. How they had been born within a couple of months of each other and how that fact alone meant immediately their lives were intertwined probably forever.

For the past week, Bronwyn had been seeing James from a different perspective. Not the annoying older sister, or the mocking frenemy. But instead, through the lens of a girlfriend, a date.

The newly arrived moonlight fell in beams, one hitting James in the face. His once-tanned skin turned pale, glowing almost. The orb of light danced in his eyes and his dimples became shadows. He was laughing, at what, she didn't know.

Despite her unnervingly ambiguous feelings, Bronwyn smiled at the boy beside her. "Yes, you did."

He did know her. Maybe better than anyone.

James was just James. He always had been to her. But what Bronwyn didn't know was whether he always would be.

✧

AN HOUR LATER AND THE SUN HAD COMPLETELY GONE DOWN, the candles left as the only light source. They lit up their faces in golden halos, making for an even cosier setting, flickering and dancing on the walls of the tent. James had pulled the fabric walls of the viewing tower to a full close, shutting out the biting breeze.

"Assessment aside," James said, moving their conversation away from their mothers' New Year's Eve party, "you couldn't fault this date, could you?"

Bronwyn pointed at the candles surrounding them. "They're a fire hazard."

James stared at her, bored. "Seriously?"

"I'm just saying," she held up her hands in surrender, biting down a smile so that her point remained a serious one. "If you murdered Lily Evans through arson-related means, I don't think she'd want to go out with you."

James frowned. That was the perfect chance for an insult, and she hadn't taken it. "I would have thought you'd say that the only way she'd go out with me was if she was dead."

"Hmm, a missed opportunity there," Bronwyn said taking another sip of her drink ─ the last pour from a now drained bottle. "But I actually think those were her words, not mine."

Lily had never said that . . . right?

"Piss off." He too, was fighting off a grin.

Bronwyn was still chuckling as James' eyes wandered to his backpack where her final assessment now resided, folded and tucked beneath his cloak.

It prompted him to lift his gaze and speak softly as if a certain volume would expose their location to the entire castle. "Bronwyn?"

"James."

"I'd be a good boyfriend, right?"

The paper showed that Bronwyn had already given James her final analysis of the past week in the shape of a fully filled-out form, checkboxes and all. But, besides all the formalities, James wanted Bronwyn's assessment. Not a business owner's.

Bronwyn slowly put down her drink and shuffled so that she sat cross-legged right in front of him. "I think," she said, and he held his breath. "You should never stop being yourself, James. The real you. If she doesn't like him, then she's not the one for you."

James nodded and smiled sweetly. He was grateful for such an honest answer from a girl who was always so set out on mocking him. He had never considered it that way. Lily was just always the girl he wanted ─ it didn't ever occur to him that adapting his true self was a bad thing. That had always just seemed like the necessary thing. Because how else would she like him if he didn't change everything about himself to be the boy she would want to date?

The silence that ensued ─ James considering Bronwyn's advice and Bronwyn watching the cogs churn in his mind, so silent and still and so unlike the James she had grown to dislike ─ stretched out for too long. James didn't like it.

He brought his gaze back onto her and let a smirk slip onto his features. "So wise."

"I know," Bronwyn shrugged snootily. "You've been too busy trying to piss me off to notice."

"I piss you off?" He gasped dramatically. "No way."

Their laughter could certainly have given away their location if Bronwyn hadn't got to her feet and held out a hand for James to use to get up too.

"Come on," she said, before nodding to the candles, so small now, they were almost to the floor, wax dripping onto the blanket. "Before we burn the pitch down."

"Good idea," James nodded, slapping his hand into hers, where she then hoisted him to a stand. "How else am I supposed to kick your arse when we win the cup?"

Bronwyn took the lead on the way back, flying them around the pitch for a late-night thrill before touching back down at the broom shed. They returned the broom and James walked her back to the Slytherin common room, where he turned to face her, looking more earnest than she was used to. More than she was prepared for.

"Thanks," he said, "it's been fun."

There was a certain playful sincerity about the way he smiled at her. How his cheeks rose up making his eyes squint. How he didn't want to seem overly happy about how this last week spent with her had been, but then also wanted to convey a level of genuine appreciation.

Bronwyn had known this boy her whole life, and yet she just couldn't quite figure him out anymore.

"Not the word I would use," she replied, nervous about the way he beamed at her and needing to bring down the sweetness just a little because she wasn't used to it. "But you're welcome, James. I hope it goes well with Lily."

What happened next surprised her even more than the gracious smile.

James seemed momentarily confused. But it washed away with a quick blinking of his lashes and then realisation seemed to dawn on his face.

For a minute, Bronwyn would have guessed that she had just reminded him of the sole reason that they had spent their week together ─ so James could finally woo Lily Evans enough to make her agree to go out on a date. And why had he appeared to have forgotten that?

"Oh, yeah," he gushed, his face flushing just a little as he ran his hand along the nape of his neck, "thanks. My hopes are high."

"They should be," Bronwyn surprised herself by saying. "You're a good guy, James. Maybe not my type per se," she said, earning her a pout. Bronwyn lightly shoved his shoulder in response, "but you're a real gentleman."

James scrunched up his lips in a twisted smile as he tried his best to suppress the red flush that was creeping up his neck. "Wow, Bronwyn," he said. "I'm flattered."

James decided to leave out the part where that meant so much to him for her to say.

———————————————