Alina Nightshade doesn't think much about James Potter. Only that he seems rather keen on being annoying.
James Potter thinks Alina Nightshade is a mystery all wrapped up in a very pretty girl. And he is keen on trying to be her friend.
James Potte...
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Alina narrows her light eyes at the wooden table in front of her. It's early, the Slytherin table still sparse with students as breakfast lingers in the Great Hall. She sits quietly, pushing food around on her plate, her thoughts far from the present.
Barty, across from her, devours his breakfast at an alarming pace, nearly shoving food down his throat without care for appearances.
She ignores him.
Her mind is on James. Specifically, his eyes. The deep, rich shade of them, the way they seem to hold some kind of warmth. His lashes, the way they frame his eyes so perfectly. And his hair—
What is wrong with her?
Is she really turning into one of those girls with a crush?
Merlin, no—
"Lia!" Barty's voice yanks her from her thoughts. She blinks, raising her head to look at him with a sharp look. "Do I look alright?" He tilts his head, eyes wide with expectation.
"You've got food all over your face." Her voice is flat with disgust as she watches him fumble for a napkin to wipe himself down.
"Reg is sick. I'm going to visit him—I need to look presentable."
The mention of Regulus immediately has her scooting away from the table. "Sick?" She shoots him a glare. "And you came near me? If I get sick, I'm killing both you and your lover."
Barty only laughs, but she's already rising from the bench, grabbing her bag. She needs to get to class anyway.
Defense Against the Dark Arts is her first lesson today. She sighs as she walks through the bustling corridors, other students rushing to their own classes. Her thoughts drift back to James. Why is he occupying her mind so much?
Her nails dig into her palms as she tries to shove him from her thoughts. This is ridiculous. She forces herself to relax by the time she reaches the classroom.
The room is slowly filling up with students, voices mingling in chatter. Alina slips to the back, grateful that this class doesn't follow a seating chart. She prefers the quiet isolation, away from prying eyes.
Sitting down, she absentmindedly toys with the flower pin on her bag before pulling out her parchment and books, setting them neatly on the desk.
Then her gaze lands on the words scrawled across the board.
The Unforgivable Curses.
Her heart seizes in her chest. She freezes, unable to move, her breath catching in her throat.
The Unforgivable Curses.
For Merlin's sake.
Alina's chest tightens as she stares at the words on the board. She doesn't need this today. She doesn't need this ever. The sudden scrape of a chair beside her snaps her out of her spiraling thoughts, and she instinctively shoots a glare at the intruder—only to soften when she sees James.
