Every Little Thing, James Potter.

03. A Werewolf's Guide to Love-Making

If you had sat fifth-year Gwen down and tried to break the news that at the start of next term she'd be working together with James Potter to craft a love potion, she would have laughed you straight out of the room and hurt your bloody feelings while she was at it.

But sixth-year Gwen wasn't feeling anywhere near as confident. Not as she was sitting in the library next to Potter, anyway.

He'd dragged her from the courtyard during sixth-years' free, which she'd planned on spending drilling Jackie and Walker at the pitches, all the way up to the library, ignoring her complaints and insults all along the way.

"I didn't even know you knew where the library was," she'd admitted, defeated, as she rested her chin in her palm. "I figured you'd just keep dragging me until I offed myself."

"Didn't realize that was an option," he responded blithely, his head four shelves of books higher than her as he scoured the entire section for anything they could use. She'd tried to tell him not to stand on the desktop, but he'd only used her shoulder as a grip to push himself off the ground.

"Can you come down already?" she called up, scowling. "I'm tired of speaking to your groin, Potter."

Wordlessly, he resurfaced from the top shelf, holding two books in each hand, and hopped off the desk. He held them out to her with a raised eyebrow that said 'look at what I did while you were complaining.'

     "Brilliant," she replied dryly. "Books that only one of us can read."

     "I can read, you know," he said, slamming the stack down for emphasis. "And not to mention how consistently you've been insulting me this whole time—notice how I haven't once retaliated with hatred? Kill them with kindness, I always say."

     She wanted to smack the teasing smile off his face.

     "James Potter," she declared, dryly, "always chivalrous."

     His eyes narrowed from behind his glasses. "If I knew what that word meant, I'm sure my feelings would be hurt. But since I don't, your joke is pointless."

She blinked up at him in disbelief, shaking her head. "You make it too easy, Potter."

"Anyway," he said pointedly, as he realized he was fighting a losing battle, and he pointed to the first book in the stack. "I found this one first: Advanced Potion-Making for Beginners."

"Redundant title," she muttered, reaching out to pick up the book.

"And this one seemed alright," he continued on, picking up the next one. "Amortentia and its Consequences: A Study on Love-Making."

She choked out a laugh, her eyebrows shooting up on her forehead. "Blimey, that's not real."

He held up the cover. "Read it and weep, Graham."

"Good thing you picked that one up, then," she said casually, reaching for the next one. "Know you need loads of help on that front."

"Oh, shut it!" he said, but he couldn't stop himself from laughing.

"Hey," said Gwen, her smile falling from her face as she registered the title of the third book. She held it up to James, brow furrowed. "Why.. Why're you picking up this one, Potter? A Werewolf's Guide to Everything Secular?"

When she looked up, James had gone sheet-faced. He wet his lips, eyes flickering over the cover as he thought up a lie to spit out. He'd always been a terrible liar; this was a fact known school-wide by their sixth year. So when he swallowed and lifted a shoulder, trying to tell her "I'm just worried—with all the attacks..", she had no intention of believing him.