“But you were impressed,” Ralph agreed, tilting his head. “I could tell. Admit it: you’re glad he came.”
Rose’s face flushed. It was a subtle thing, but James had known his cousin since she was a baby, and recognized it. She zipped her bag and avoided looking at him. “He’s an irreverent, juvenile, reckless, manically cheerful, dodgy, American rogue.”
James nodded. “And you like him for exactly everything that he annoys you for.”
He expected her to be angry, but she simply slumped over the table, chin on her crossed arms, and stared out over the bookshelves.
“He’s no Scorpius, that’s for sure.”
“Ah,” James nodded, feeling rather bold. “Because he annoys you for everything you used to like him for.”
“Oh, I still like him. I can’t help it,” Rose shook her head on her arms, keeping her voice low. “But I hate myself for it. He keeps me in a confused tizzy most of the time. Every time I think we’re all smoothed out, he does something else infuriating. My schoolwork is suffering for it.”
Ralph glanced at her, frowning. “What are you talking about?
You get top marks in every class.”
“But I’m not enjoying it. It’s all become a… a drudgery.”
“Wow,” James gave a low whistle. “A world where schoolwork is a drudgery. That’s more than I can imagine.”
“You’re some help,” Rose muttered disconsolately. “I don’t even know why I’m saying this to you two.”
James was tempted to tell Rose that Scorpius was simply no good for her, but he knew that it would be pointless. That was something she’d have to learn on her own, when she realized for herself that the sum total of their relationship was annoyance, heartbreak, and petty squabbles.
Instead, he mused, “‘Rose Malfoy’ sounds like a shade of sickening pink. Like that terrible stomach potion Grandma Weasley brews up whenever we get the flu.”
“Oh, thanks for that,” Rose sat up again and collected her bag.
“That clears up everything.” She made to leave, then turned back to him and Ralph. “But seriously. This Norberta business isn’t over.
We’ve made a mess, and something’s going to have to be done about it before it all comes crashing down on our heads.”
Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked away.
James watched her go, arms still crossed over his chest, and then blew out a weary sigh.
He firmly wanted to believe that Rose was over-reacting and that Norberta was no longer their problem. He was less convinced it was true, however, than that Rose still harbored a secret, hopeless torch for Zane Walker, even from inside the emotional cage of her relationship with Scorpius.
Ralph was still looking back at Rose as she turned past a bookshelf and out of sight. “I hate to say it, but she’s right about Norberta. And you’re right about her and Scorpius Malfoy. What a right wazzock he is.”
James sighed and stood up, finally deciding, reluctantly, that he should change out of last night’s grubby clothes. “This whole affair’s gone totally quantum. Way over our tiny heads. See you later, Ralph.”
As he made his way back to the Gryffindor tower, he mused that, much like Norberta loose in central London, Rose’s love life was just one more thing that he, James, couldn’t do anything about.
As the weather is wont to do during those first ambiguous days of early spring, Friday night’s snowstorm was followed by a wave of unseasonable warmth on Sunday. The balmy air chased the snow into sullen, crusted dregs in the castle’s shadows, revealing the matted yellow grass beneath and summoning cascades of pallid icicles from the eaves and turrets. The ground squelched beneath James’ trainers, soaking them through, as he made his way to the Quidditch pitch for the evening’s match against Ravenclaw.
He was eager to get back onto a broom again after the long break, and was hoping to finally prove himself worthy of his position as Seeker. Thus far in the season, Gryffindor was in third place, following Ravenclaw and Slytherin. If they could snatch victory in today’s matchup, they would climb to second with dreams of a possible tournament win. If they lost, they could most likely kiss the trophy goodbye.
The grandstands were full to overflowing, noisome and drumming with cheers and tramping feet, as James took his place on the field for the pre-game captains’ handshake.
The match that followed was hard fought and mostly textbook.
The air was clear beneath a bright grey sky, allowing for perfect visibility and offering almost no cross-breeze. James banked and swooped in search of the Snitch, keeping one eye out for rogue Bludgers as well as George Muldoon, who played Seeker for the Ravenclaws. As James swooped low over the Ravenclaw stadium, with the sun setting just beyond the streaming banners overhead, he spotted Edgar Edgecombe and his cronies, Ogden and Heathrow, seated in the front row, calling jeers through cupped hands. Dimly, James realized that he hadn’t thought of them in weeks, and was very glad of it. Perhaps, he mused, he had heard the last of their petty, pointless antagonism. Even as he swooped on, however, he expected this was too much to hope for.
Gryffindor maintained a thin but persistent lead over Ravenclaw throughout the match, but nowhere near enough to secure a victory.
James knew that the extra few points on the scoreboard would come to naught if Muldoon spotted and snagged the Snitch before he did.
Suspense tightened in his chest like a noose as the sun dipped low over the grandstands and the match grew tense, feverish with anticipation.
James had not seen the Snitch the entire match, and knew that it simply must make an appearance sometime soon. He scanned the wild fracas of players, watched the wallop of Bludgers and the lob of Quaffles toward glinting rings. He heard Lily grunt with effort, managing to knock back shot after shot. Gritting his teeth, he waited and searched, straining his eyes so hard that they ached behind his glasses.
And then, with a glimmer of sunset gold and a streak of fluttering wings, there it was: the Snitch bobbed behind Ashley Doone as she hovered before the Ravenclaw goal rings. Then, it formed an arc of bronze as it dipped, banked, and zipped across the pitch, heading straight toward him.
James watched it approach, his breath caught in his chest.
Surely, it wouldn’t be this easy. And of course, it wasn’t. The Snitch zigged in the air, angling away into the setting sunlight, and James hunkered over his broom, launching forward in pursuit.
From his peripheral vision, he tried to see if Muldoon was giving chase as well, but the sunset light made it impossible to tell. Eyes locked onto the fluttering golden ball, James twitched and banked through the melee of players, ducking under Bludgers and doing a full barrel-roll beneath Stebbins, Gryffindor’s lead Beater.