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THE BROOM CLOSET
December 17, 2020
"I'M SO BORED," James groaned as he sat back in his chair, his feet on the table as Lorcan worked religiously on the Transfiguration essay.
"Well, it's the library, mate," Lysander replied. "Don't know what you expected."
"Why are we here?" James asked, his annoyance clear.
"Because Professor Longbottom asked me to help you all do you homework for once," Lorcan grumbled. "So please take this seriously."
"It's — " James said mischeviously.
"If you say your middle name, I swear I will slap you," Lorcan interrupted as he glared slightly at James.
"In front of Madame Pince?" James gasped. "She'd have a fit if golden boy, prefect Lorcan Scamander slapped someone in the middle of the library, let alone the son of the chosen one."
"I didn't say I was going to slap Albus," Lorcan retorted. "Did I?"
"Don't really think she'd care if he slapped you, mate," Fred agreed with Lorcan. "She hates you."
"Fuck you, Fred," James grumbled as he set his forehead on the table.
"Does 8 for you?" Fred teased.
James just stuck up his middle finger in response, but it pulled it back when he saw red converse and cherry socks approach the table.
"James, right?" a feminine voice sounded. "James Potter?"
"The one and only," he said as he lifted his head up with a lethargically smug smile.
Once he looked up, he realized it was Marcy Leeds — a Gryffindor in his year. Ryan Allen-Chang had fancied her in 4th year, but he'd moved on to Nyah Thomas, James thought.
He knew that she had a nice arse and was a good snog — especially in a broom closet because rumor had it that she did muggle gymnastics in her free time, but that was just a rumor. He also knew that she always wore red, his favorite color, in some form or another. Whether it be cherry socks, red converse, scarlet hair clips or flaming lips — it was like she was fire. And he longed to burn.
