𝙉𝙤𝙩 𝙎𝙤 𝙂𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙣 ―𝐣𝐬𝐩

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 - 𝐎𝐛𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐇𝐨𝐭? 𝐘𝐞𝐬. 𝐌𝐲 𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞? 𝐍𝐨.

Martha

I was fidgeting with my stupid belly button piercing, standing in front of my mirror in nothing but black lace lingerie, regretting ever letting my little sister convince me to get rebellious matching piercings this summer, when I heard the door to my dorm creak open. I froze, my fingers immediately leaving the piercing alone, and my heart raced in sheer panic. The girls weren't supposed to be back for another hour, and the last thing I needed was someone walking in on me half-naked, yanking at my piercing like a bloody idiot.

And then I heard the voice—his voice. James Potter.

"Geez, Aurum," he drawled, sounding both amused and annoyed at the same time, "are you trying to seduce me?"

I spun around so fast I almost gave myself whiplash, yanking my hands up to cover myself even though it didn't make much difference considering the fact that I was practically wearing nothing. He was standing by the door, his eyes covered with one hand, his free hand resting lazily on his hip. He had the audacity to act like this was no big deal, just another casual Tuesday or something.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Potter?!" I snapped, my voice shrill, as I desperately tried to think of how to salvage this situation. How the hell did he even get up here? The stairs were supposed to turn into a bloody slide when guys tried to come up!

"Relax," he said, his tone maddeningly casual. "I just wanted to talk about breakfast tomorrow. You know, for our fake relationship. But if you're busy stripping down to your knickers, I can come back later."

I blushed—hard. My entire face went hot, and I could feel the crimson creeping down my neck. He still had his hand over his eyes, but it didn't make it any less embarrassing. I was practically naked, and James fucking Potter was in my dorm room, talking to me like this was the most normal thing in the world. I need liquid courage, now. Where is my vial?

"Why are you here?" I repeated, trying to keep my voice steady as I stumbled back towards my bed, grabbing the closest thing I could find—a random oversized puddlemere united hoodie—and yanking it on over my head. My heart was hammering in my chest, not just because I'd been caught half-naked, but because James was here, in my space, seeing me like this, and somehow, I wasn't ready for that. Not for him. Not for anyone. Where is that vial?

He dropped his hand slowly once I was fully covered, peeking through his fingers before lowering them entirely. His dark hazel eyes met mine, and I felt a weird flutter in my stomach that I quickly squashed down. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I had to remind myself of that, because looking at him right now—with his shirt half opened and his tie undone loosely around his neck with all his chains and that cross pendant he uses peaking out, as usual, because of course he was—was doing things to me that I didn't want to admit.

James Potter was hot. Objectively, infuriatingly hot. His tanned skin was all golden and smooth, and his muscles were well-defined, sculpted from years of Quidditch. Tattoos snaked across his skin, one of them creeping up from his collarbone to his neck, the words "osculum hic" written in sleek black ink, and no I don't know what that means. Another one, lower, by his hip bone, follow your brain. your heart is fucking stupid. He was tall—way taller than me—and broad-shouldered, with that cocky grin that he flashed whenever he knew he had the upper hand.

But this was Potter. The bane of my existence. The guy who made my blood boil with his stupid jokes and his arrogant swagger. The guy who had made my childhood a living hell with his constant teasing.

I didn't care how fit he was. I hated him.

"Like I said," James repeated, his tone teasing as he leaned against the doorframe. "I wanted to talk about our little act. You know, this whole fake dating thing you're so keen on. We need to walk into breakfast together tomorrow. Hand in hand. It'll help sell the whole 'we're madly in love now' bit."

I rolled my eyes, pulling the hoodie tighter around me. The fabric was huge on me, falling well past my thighs, and thank Merlin for that because I was still in my lingerie underneath. Still no vial in sight. Where that I put that damn thing?

"Why the fuck would I walk into breakfast holding your hand?" I muttered, trying to distract myself from the fact that James Potter had just walked in on me half-naked. "Isn't that a little... much?" I know it's not, but I haven't got my liquid luck dose of the day so I'm not ready to talk with potter about this shit without being awkward as hell yet.

James raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "Not if we want people to actually believe this. We've been bickering for, what, eleven years? No one's going to believe we're suddenly together unless we sell it hard. We need to be convincing, Aurum."

I sighed, sitting down on the edge of my bed. "This is so stupid," I muttered, more to myself than to him. I rubbed a hand over my face, feeling the exhaustion of the past week settling in. "I can't believe I even said we were dating."

He chuckled, moving closer now, his presence making my small dorm room feel even more cramped. "Yeah, well, that was your fuck-up, not mine." He sat down next to me, way too close for comfort. His thigh brushed against mine, and I had to resist the urge to scoot away. "But I'm here to help you fix it, so you're welcome."

I glared at him, trying to muster up the usual annoyance I felt whenever he was around, but it was hard when he was sitting this close. I could smell him—fresh, like soap and something faintly spicy. His chest was right there, in my peripheral vision, and I had to keep reminding myself not to stare at the hard lines of his muscles, at the ink on his skin.

"Why are you so eager to help me, anyway?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest, trying to act like I wasn't affected by his proximity. "You don't care about what Xavier thinks, and you're not exactly known for being... nice. Maybe to Nate, definitely not to me."

He shrugged, leaning back on his elbows, looking completely relaxed while I was on edge. "I like a challenge. Plus, I'd rather fake date you than deal with you sulking around Quidditch practice for the rest of the year because Xavier has a new girlfriend."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not sulking."

"Sure," he said with a smirk, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Keep telling yourself that."

I huffed, crossing my legs and glaring at the wall. Why did he have to be so goddamn smug all the time? "Well, I'm glad this is all just a game to you, Potter. But for me, this is—"

"A nightmare?" he interrupted, grinning. "Because you have to pretend to be madly in love with me?"

I clenched my jaw, trying to keep my temper in check. "Yes, actually. It is a nightmare."

His grin only widened. "Oh, come on, Aurum. I'm not that bad, am I? I mean, I know I'm not your type—"

"You're definitely not my type," I snapped before he could finish.

"Good thing this is fake then, huh?" He winked, and I wanted to strangle him. But instead, I settled for glaring at him as hard as I could.

"Look," I said, trying to steer the conversation back to something less infuriating, "let's just get through this, alright? I'll play my part, you play yours, and then we can go back to hating each other once Xavier gets the point."

"Deal," he said, standing up and offering me a hand. "Now, are you done trying to take that piercing out, or do you need help with that too?"

I blushed again, my fingers instinctively brushing against the little silver ring in my belly button. "Shut up, Potter."

He just laughed, heading for the door. "See you at breakfast, girlfriend."

And with that, he was gone, leaving me in a whirlwind of confusion and frustration. My piercing still refusing to cooperate with me so I guess it's staying there. Yeah, James Potter wins this round.