The Tale of Jamie Devereaux

It's Too Late for Flattery, Fredward

Oliver Wood loved Quidditch. He loved the game, the rush, and—contrary to popular belief—he loved his teammates. The seventh year Gryffindor boy hated to see his players upset, because it meant that their playing would suffer. For tactful purposes, Oliver knew all of his teammates biggest weaknesses, so that he could help them avoid it as much as possible before a game. It is for this reason that Wood quickly turned around and walked back toward his team. They were sore and tired from a long practice and did not seem happy to see their Captain looking determined and walking back, "We are taking a walking lap around the grounds, it's important to cool down." The Quidditch team groaned but walked with Oliver Wood.

By taking a lap, the team had missed the sight of Jamie Devereaux and Kenneth Towler kissing in the archway of the castle.

It was the second week of January, Jamie's hair had been blonde again since getting back on the Hogwarts Express. It was this blonde hair that Kenneth was currently stroking as he kissed his girlfriend.

Jamie had finally begun to see the appeal of kissing. It was an interesting, sometimes wet, affair that made her feel a little dizzy afterwards. Kenneth was sweet and sensitive and always paid her compliments just like a good boyfriend should. The blonde witch would never admit this to herself, or anyone else, but while she enjoyed kissing, the most enjoyable part of her days was messing with Fred Weasley.

Since declaring the rules of their "war" it had become a silent and deadly affair. They pranked when the other least expected it and never in front of a crowd. Jamie would think nothing was wrong and then look in a mirror and see that her ears had grown twice as large. Because the effects took longer to recognize, it stopped the outright fury of attack that was Jamie's go to. This lead to not getting detentions and instead getting even.

In fact, Jamie thought as she expertly avoided Kenneth's tongue for the third time, this was shaping up to be her favorite semester at Hogwarts yet.

--

Jamie perched one of her mother's homemade brownies strategically on the edge of the table she was studying at in the Gryffindor common room. She had it close enough to her where it looked like she was about to start enjoying it when she heard Fred Weasley's voice. "Devereaux, you shouldn't have!" He said as he scooped up the brownie from her side, falling for her trap.

Fred Weasley chewed the sweet with triumph as he looked down at the small little witch. The taste of Loren Bruce's brownies was something he had dreamed of ever since getting a bite his third-year at Hogwarts. Fred watched, expecting to see a look of outrage or annoyance on his Jamie Devereaux. Instead, when she turned and met his eyes with a shit eating grin, Fred Weasley stopped chewing immediately and felt dread overwhelm his body.

George Weasley perched himself on Jamie's desk thirty minutes later and looked quizzically at the studious witch, "What on earth did you put in that brownie? Freddie has been puking for the past half hour."

Jamie smirked at this news, "Just a puking potion, nothing too complex."

"Tell me how to make it?" George asked.

--

Jamie Devereaux's perfume had somehow been swapped with a scent that drove the nifflers wild in Care of Magical Creatures class that early February morning. Once the blonde had stepped forward to take a closer look at the creatures, every single niffler jumped her and tried to climb up her body. Fred Weasley, who at the moment didn't have any eyebrows, was laughing so hard his sides began to hurt and he had to clutch his twin to stop himself from falling over.

Hagrid had no idea what to do in that moment. He was pulling the nifflers off the little fifth-year but each time he got one off, it would just jump back on her. In a last ditch attempt he had grabbed some leprechaun gold and threw it in the air. All the nifflers stopped attacking Jamie Devereaux and ran to grab at the shiny things. Hagrid helped the small witch up. Her hair was in every direction imaginable, her clothes were a little torn and her big warm coat had been ripped off of one of her shoulders. She was panting heavily and glaring at Fred Weasley who was still clinging onto George for support.