Someone Great, James S. Potter

IV

JAMES HADN'T EXPECTED Stevie to be phenomenal, but he definitely didn't expect her to be as horrible as she was. They had been on the Quidditch Pitch for about five minutes, and James could tell he had his work cut out for him.

"How did you even get on the team," James asked as Stevie struggled to get on her broom. "Scratch that, how did you even pass flying lessons in the first place?"

"I didn't," Stevie said as she finally got on her broom ("aha!"). "I'm pretty sure my dad blackmailed Professor Holloway or something. He tends to do that a lot."

"Now I know where you get it from," James said as he rolled up the sleeves of his button-up before hopping on his broom. Stevie chanced a glance at the way his hands gripped the handle, one of them moving up to mess with his already messy hair—

"You okay there, Wood?" James asked, a lopsided smile on his face. Stevie could feel her face warm up.

"Yeah," she said, a little too forcibly. "Let's just get started already. I have homework to do."

For the next hour, Stevie felt as if she was in hell. James made her start with laps around the pitch until she was dizzy. Then, he basically chased her around, trying to steal the quaffle from her. The only thing that kept Stevie going was the fact that Slytherin's first match was in two weeks, and without training, there was no way she'd be ready in time.

When both James and Stevie were exhausted, they flew down to the ground, James landing much more gracefully than Stevie, who fell on her butt and just stayed there.

"So, what do you like about Sunny?" Stevie asked, catching James off guard.

"What?" he asked, slightly confused, slightly panicked for some reason.

"If I'm going to help you date my best friend, I'm going to need to know whether you're worth it or not. So, what do you find most desirable about her," Stevie pressed.

"Okay, first: ouch; second: don't say 'desirable,' it's weird," James said, laying down beside her. Stevie  turned over to look at him, cocking an eyebrow. "Fine. I guess I like how independent she is. Like, she speaks her mind about stuff that she likes, or doesn't. And she has a nice smile, too. Like, it makes my stomach cramp whenever I see her smile. It's weird."

"And they say romance is dead," Stevie said softly, still looking at James' profile. She noticed how he had a bump in nose she couldn't see from the front. She wanted to trace it with her finger, but she didn't, because that would be weird.

"So, am I worth it?" James asked, finally turning toward Stevie, that familiar lopsided smile on his face. She couldn't help but smile as well.

"I guess."

_______

"DO YOU THINK they keep your clothes on when you get cremated," Stevie asked Albus and Scorpius as she scooped a large portion of mashed potatoes onto her plate.

"Why would I think about that," said Scorpius, his knife scraping his plate as he cut into his steak.

"I'd think they wouldn't let you keep them on," said Albus, his brows furrowed, "because of like pollution—polluting the air, y'know."

"So you think they strip the dead body," said Stevie, "couldn't they like rip the skin—"

"Why are we talking—"

"But they're going to cremate you anyway," said Albus, gesturing wildly with his fork. Scorpius caught his write as he neared the blond boy's eye.

"But no one wants to see some random dead person's genitalia," said Stevie, raising her eyebrows.