𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄
chapter nineteen; No Broken Hearts 
" I think we're all in control of who we let break our hearts. "

  THE WEATHER WAS perfect. It felt wrong being so dreary when the world was quite the opposite, but Salem couldn't help herself.

  She was made of melancholia at the moment, enjoying the space she occupied on a stone bench but nothing beyond it. Roman had done her hair that morning, which was perhaps why the half-bun was so lumpy, but it showed off the jewelry decorating her ears so she was content. And, then again, she hadn't had the motivation to redo it.

  The girl had avoided everything. She wanted to stop running, to face her tragedies head on, but it was so hard when one felt like a billion little broken pieces. So she'd slept, woke up late, threw on clothes that were lying around. Roman offered a bit of comfort, but ultimately Salem self-isolated in a lonely courtyard after avoiding every single one of her classes.

  Salem noticed James before he focused on her— clearly, his intentions had been to find her but as he walked towards the courtyard she occupied he greeted students happily— grinning and laughing. Though, when he saw the redhead, his demeanor calmed, and his stride solidified— straight for her with no stops.

  He was beautiful. Salem had surrendered to that truth long ago, but occasionally she'd be reminded. By the curl that hung lively on his forehead, and the tie that was never quite tight, his pressed white shirt tightening when he moved the right way— and how his eyes softened as he took the seat beside her.

  "My heart's been broken before, y'know," James said, looking at the girl whose eyes continued to trace the architecture of the castle. "I don't intend to go through that again."

  "So don't."

  She was so cold. Though, for some reason, this didn't freeze James over— it warmed him. 

  Things had changed, surely, but not this. Not her. And it gave him some sort of hope.

  "Thanks for the advice," James joked dryly, brushing a hand through his hair quickly, "I don't want to not. . . love somebody again, y'know? I just . . . refuse to have another broken heart."

  "You can't exactly control that," Salem noted, her lips tugging upwards with unknown emotion.

  "Well, I think you can," James said surely, and for the first time, Salem looked to him.

  He looked so determined. Furrowed brows and hopeful eyes, his bottom lip momentarily tucked into his teeth. James was on a mission, and Salem felt as though she was at the center of it.

  "I think we're all in control of who we let break our hearts," James continued, "And I won't let you break mine."

  Hope drizzled out of Salem like the pitiful end to a roaring rainstorm. She had to have known it was coming; no shock he'd turn around once realizing she was the girl, but it still hurt.

  It still hurt.

  Like it was an echoing of her leaving the day prior— the harm she'd inflicted upon the tender-hearted Marauder coming back like a ghost.

  Until, of course, James Potter leaned closer to her— his aroma of cinnamon and summertime invading every sense, and for the first time, Salem could pick apart every shade of brown that contributed to the milky way of his eyes.

  "How are you going to do that?" Salem asked quietly, forcing her eyes to remain on James' instead of taking a stroll to memorize how his cheeks dipped into one another.

  "Easy," James answered just as quietly, "I'll love you properly. We'll fight and have bad times— everyone does— but I'll be so careful with you, Salem, not because you need it but because I need you, and then there will be no broken hearts. No fallout or casualties, just you and me for as long as we can think."

  "You hardly know me, Potter," Salem whispered, "That's a lot to promise to a stranger."

  "But you aren't one," James said fiercely, "You're my Mystery Girl. You sacrificed pieces so the game would last longer and you hate roses more than life itself— some days you want to do everything and others you want to do nothing. You live so drastically because it's the only way to leave a memory on someone, and you play every bloody sport on the planet. You didn't think you belonged in Gryffindor for a long time, but you're the most lionhearted person I know. I may have just put a face and a name to all of it— but I know you."

  "That scares me," She admitted, for the first time Mystery Girl and Salem melding into one.

  "I know it does," His voice dipped back down into tenderness, "But doesn't me still wanting every ounce of you make it a little bit less scary?"

  "No," Salem mumbled, "Jesus, Potter, that makes it terrifying. Because I've opened up to you more than I've opened up to Dot and you've never shied away from any of it, and I'll mess it all up. I'll wreck it, I'll wreck you, I've been on a decline since the day I could understand words and I'll only pull you down with me."

  "Why can't you just understand that you playing me back in chess is the best thing that's ever happened to me?" He asked bluntly, never pulling away from the girl, "You're not a wreck, you're not going to divebomb one day and crumble. You're strong and smart and turns out, you're everything I've ever wanted."

  Salem hung her head at this, unsure of how to accept or reciprocate. But James was just glad she didn't deny. She didn't argue or refuse or fight, because he'd keep telling her the same things forever if he had to.

  "What about Sirius?" Salem asked the question that had been weighing on her mind for hours, "How does he fit into all of this?"

  "Well, that's a question for you, isn't it?" James asked quietly, "Why'd you kiss him, Sal?"

  She lifted her eyes, though wished she hadn't, as the softness that had overtaken James's eyes invoked a special sort of tightness in her heart.

  "Why'd you kiss him if you cared about me?" He continued, "Do you care about me?"

  "That's a stupid question," Salem said softly, "If I didn't care about you, why would I worry about being enough? Why do you think I was so greedy— spending time with you during the day and luring out the real parts of ourselves at night. I want what's best for you and I don't think that's me, I think you deserve someone who can tell you how they feel, and I've wanted to tell you so many times that you make me feel like I'm floating on my back in the middle of the pacific ocean, but I'm no good with words so I just tell you to shut up."

  James was now hanging off her every word, his eyes following her movements and range of expressions— she had so many emotions, she felt everything so deeply, but hated it. She didn't know how to handle them or what to do with them.

  "And I kissed Sirius because he's a great person," She continued, "Because I felt so alone in the wide world and he was there and kind and cared and I took advantage of that because I am so selfish sometimes— I thought it would fix me, that it would fix everything, but it didn't and I don't know what to do, and you deserve someone who knows what they want and how to get it."

  "I don't know what I'm doing, either," James assured, "None of us do, Sal. And I'd love, more than anything, to not know what I'm doing right alongside you."

  "No broken hearts?"

  "No broken hearts."

  "Then you have to give me time," Salem said reluctantly, making James furrow his brows, "If we're going to do this, we're going to do it properly. And I've mucked things up with everyone, so I need time. To smooth things out. Then. . ."

  "You'll come back to me?" James questioned hopefully.

  He would lie if he said he didn't melt like snow in the summer when Salem's hand shakily, unsurely, but still softly came to rest on his cheek. Her smile tugged up shyly as James leaned into her palm, thumb grazing his cheekbone ever so lightly.

  She was all new to this, and James was soaking it up.

  "I think I might always come back to you, Potter."

  And for a brief moment, nothing existed beyond them. They were teenagers who were following their feelings, because despite all the external factors, there was one simple truth that mattered most; James Potter and Salem Gerard were dancing on the line between like and love, and they seemed nothing short of comfortable there.

( AUTHOR'S NOTE. )
I'm so proud of this chapter.
Also, Merry Christmas! 
I won't be taking a full
hiatus, but will be probably
a bit distant the next few
days! A friend of mine is
coming home from out of town,
and my best friend's birthday
is this Saturday, so I'll
be a bit busy spending time
with people up until New Years--
forgive me if this is the last
update of 2019;
but if it happens to be,
thank you guys so much for all
the love and support on this book,
and any of my others, it's
appreciated greatly,
I love you guys and happy 2020!