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chapter vi ━━ the 'james potter effect'
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So this was James Potter's idea of fun? Sprinting down the damn corridor after pissing off the school's caretaker?
Oh no! Fucking no! They were gonna have a serious problem. Because Freya did not like idiots, especially idiots who pulled stunts like these 'for fun'.
James was laughing—and it was that sort of a laugh—the kind that was giddy with the brash spirit of boyhood. And Rhea was pretty damn sure that she was losing her mind, because she could feel herself smiling too after a moment.
And James was still holding her hand, his fingers laced around her wrist.
(Definitely not losing her mind!)
Did they lose Filch? When they rounded into yet another corridor, she thought she couldn't hear his heavy footsteps behind them anymore. And a moment later, James began slowing down.
"Fuck—" He was panting for breath, stopping halfway across a corridor. His hold around her wrist slowly loosened.
"What the hell was that?" Rhea was gasping for breath too, and she was surprised how she was still laughing.
James was doubled over, his hand on his knees, his cheeks flushed and his glasses askew.
"Exactly what it looks like." He said with a grin.
Why did she feel like he had one of those contagious smiles?
(Focus, Rhea!)
What actually bothered her was that The Marauders didn't even try to mask their footsteps. They didn't even try to make it less obvious.
"Thieving and vandalism. Not cool, y'know?" Rhea said, leaning against the wall for support.
It was obvious that Rhea wasn't used to running (or anything that required her to physically exert herself, because fuck that!), and it felt like her lungs were burning.
James looked up, and Rhea tried to ignore how his hair fell into his eyes, "It depends on your perception, Verma."
