𝙉𝙤𝙩 𝙎𝙤 𝙂𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙣 ―𝐣𝐬𝐩

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐫

James

Nate's arm was slung around my shoulder, pulling me close as we made our way down the corridors to the dungeons for Potions. He was grinning like a fox, whispering God-knows-what in my ear, half of which was about the night before, the other half probably about Dom. We were draped over each other like lovers, and if anyone didn't know the two of us, they'd probably think we were gay and not just best mates who'd known each other since birth.

"Mate, if you keep whispering sweet nothings into my ear, I'm going to have to tell Dom you've been cheating on her with me," I muttered, elbowing him as he pressed a kiss to my cheek.

"Oh, shut up, Potter. You love me," he teased, a pixie dust blunt in his left hand and his overpriced designer Armani bag slung over his other shoulder. I could smell the faint whiff of cologne-one of those stupidly expensive ones that made him smell like a bloody perfume ad, all dark woods and something sexy. Dom probably drooled over it.

"Keep talking like that, and you'll have to deal with the fact I'm putting us down for Hogsmeade's next romantic weekend," I smirked, ducking out from under his arm just as the click of high heels echoed down the corridor behind us. I froze, knowing that sound all too well.

"Please tell me that's not who I think it is," I groaned, glancing over my shoulder.

Two pairs of high heels. The red ones-Dom's-striking the stone floor in rhythm with the nude Louboutins next to her. Dominique Weasley, my darling cousin and femme fatale incarnate, strutted toward us, her strawberry blonde hair looking fucking perfect as always. Next to her, equally flawless and infinitely more irritating, was Martha fucking Aurum.

Dom caught my eye first, her smirk almost as sharp as her heels. "J," she greeted me, stepping in to kiss my cheek. "How's your head after last night?" Her aqua blue eyes flicked to Nate, who had his hands all over her, one of them already casually cupping her ass like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Doing better. Still hangover though, cuz." And she smiled at me kissing my other cheek now. cause she is French, well half French.

"I can't feel my legs, Nathaniel," Dom hissed in mock annoyance, though her voice carried a lazy satisfaction that made me want to gag.

Nate, of course, had no shame. "You were the one who wanted me to fuck harder, sweetheart," he replied with a grin.

"SHUT UP. Ew. So gross." Martha, standing a little too close to me for comfort, threw her hands over her ears, looking mortified. Her Louis Vuitton bag hung off her shoulder, swinging slightly as she glare at her twin. "I swear to God, Nate, no one needs to hear that."

I couldn't help it-I laughed. "What, Aurum, didn't know your brother's a horny bastard?"

Martha gave me a side-eye glare, her lips pursed, before flipping her hair back over her shoulder. Merlin, she was dressed to kill today, even for a Potions class. She had on those nude Louboutins, and her skirt-if you could even call it that-barely covered anything. Her shirt was tucked in neatly, but the way it clung to her figure made me think the school uniform policy had never once crossed her mind.

The outline of her belly button piercing was faintly visible through the fabric, making me grind my teeth. Who the hell was allowed to look that good while being this much of a pain in the arse?

And her hair. Merlin help me. Her golden blonde waves flowed past her shoulders, cascading down her back, so glossy they practically reflected the dim dungeon light.

She wore lip gloss that made her lips look like the perfect shade of 'kiss me and regret it later, and her stupid fucking Cartier jewelry only added to the whole Upper East Side princess vibe she carried like a crown.

I tore my gaze away from her chest—no small feat, considering her uniform shirt left little to the imagination when it came to her tits, which were disproportionately perfect for someone with a stomach that flat. Why the fuck was I even thinking about this? I was a Potter. We're supposed to fall for fiery redheads, not irritating blonde seekers with trust funds and attitudes.

Dom smirked knowingly at me as Nate pulled her closer, his hand slipping up under her skirt without an ounce of shame. I rolled my eyes. Of course, they were going to be disgusting like this.

"Potter," Martha said suddenly, her voice softer, closer to my ear. I turned to face her, trying not to look too closely at how her high heels made her legs look. "Walk with me. We need to talk."

I blinked. "What—now?"

"Yes, now." Her tone brokered no argument, and before I could think to protest, she was pulling me aside, her fingers wrapping around my wrist in a way that made my brain short-circuit for half a second.

Behind me, Nate was already grinning as Dom whispered something filthy in his ear, and I cursed under my breath. Of cour I they'd leave me to deal with this.

"What do you want, Aurum?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady as she led me further down the hall, away from the others.

"Sit with me in Potions," she said, glancing around quickly as if she was checking to see who might be watching. "We need to talk. And no, it's not about Quidditch."

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite myself. What the hell could she possibly want from me that didn't involve Quidditch?

"Fine," I said, not entirely sure why I was agreeing. "But whatever it is, it better be good."

She didn't smile, didn't say a word, just turned and walked ahead, leaving me to follow. And all I could think about was how much I didn't want to stare at her legs as she led the way into the Potions classroom. Fuck.