Seers Secret ✧ James Potter

~Chapter 102~

James Potter POV.

Alina stares at him, her expression blank, unreadable. The words he's just blurted out hang in the air, heavy and suffocating, wrapping around his throat like a noose.

"Because I'm in love with you!"

Her gaze doesn't waver, not at first. She blinks slowly, the silence stretching between them, thick and unbearable. James feels his heart pounding like it might burst out of his chest, his own confession echoing in his ears, mocking him.

Then, without a word, Alina turns. She doesn't look back as she walks away, her steps measured, purposeful, leaving him rooted to the spot.

Merlin, he's an idiot.

No. A fucking idiot.

James stands there, frozen, as the realization hits him like a bludger to the chest. He loves her. He really loves her. And now that the words are out, it's impossible to deny.

Every dream, every thought—it's always her. Her hair, her sharp glare, even the way she challenges him without even trying. She's in his blood, and he hasn't even realized it until he's gone and said it out loud.

Love.

Fuck.

He groans, dragging his hands through his hair, tugging at the roots as though the pain might drown out the flood of emotions crashing through him. He doesn't regret telling her the truth—not really. What he regrets is everything that came before.

The bet.

Godric, the bet.

He hates himself for it. For being so desperate to get closer to her, to be her friend, to make her like him. And in the end, it hasn't mattered. He's ruined everything.

James clenches his eyes shut, willing the tears stinging at the edges of his vision to stay put. His chest feels tight, like he can't breathe, like he might just implode right there in the middle of the corridor.

She doesn't feel the same. He knows that now. It's not just the fact that she's engaged, with a future that has no room for him. It's because he's hurt her. He's betrayed her trust, and she's told him so in no uncertain terms.

"You won the bet."

The words feel like a slap then, and they burn now, searing through his chest. She's considered him a friend, maybe even something more, and he's wrecked it. Miserably, thoroughly.

James turns on his heel, heading back to Gryffindor Tower, his feet heavy, his mind drowning in self-loathing. He won't go to class—not today, maybe not ever. He'll stay in his dorm and wallow, disappear from the world entirely.

The whole walk back, he berates himself, each thought a whip cracking against his already bruised heart.

Why has he confessed? Why now? Why not later—after he's earned her forgiveness, if he ever could? He should have waited. He should have waited.

Instead, he's ruined the only chance he might've had.

At this point, James is certain her forgiveness is out the window.

Even if he gets on his knees and begs, sobs at her feet, pleads with every ounce of sincerity he has—would it matter? Would it change anything?

Maybe that's what she wants. For him to beg. For him to feel the full weight of his mistakes, the way she surely has.

By the time he reaches the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, he feels hollow. He mutters the password, the hopelessness in his tone enough to make the knight in the portrait hesitate, almost as if concerned.

James ignores him, pushing inside the common room. It's empty, the students off to class where they're supposed to be—where he should be. But classes don't matter right now. Nothing does. He doesn't even glance around as he darts toward the boys' dormitory stairs.

The image of Alina standing there, staring at him with that blank, unreadable expression, refuses to leave his mind.

She doesn't react—not really. She just blinks, her face betraying almost nothing before she turns and walks away.

No. There's no way she likes him. Sure, they've kissed. Twice. And, yes, the second time she was the one who kissed him, but still...

Alina doesn't seem like the type to have a crush, let alone be in love. She barely seems like the type to like anyone.

James reaches the door to his dorm and shoves it open, only to stop short at the sight of Sirius still sprawled in bed.

Sirius lifts his head, his hair even messier than usual, his dark eyes narrowing groggily.

"Why are you here?" Sirius asks, his voice scratchy with sleep, his brow furrowing as he props himself up on one elbow.

James exhales shakily, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him with a click. "I just told Alina I'm in love with her."

Sirius freezes, his eyebrows shooting up before his expression shifts, a mix of curiosity and concern. "Oh," he says, then frowns. "Wait. You're in love with Alina?"

"Yeah." The admission feels heavier now, like it's dragging him under. James drags his gaze to the floor, his feet moving without thought as he begins to pace. "Fuck," he mutters under his breath, stepping over the mess scattered across the floor, his hands raking through his hair.

Sirius watches him, his sharp eyes tracking every frantic movement.

"Merlin, why did I tell her?" James groans, pacing faster, his mind replaying every agonizing second of her silence.

Sirius shrugs, his tone annoyingly casual. "Maybe her cruelness enchanted you."

James stops mid-step, his head snapping toward Sirius with a glare. A sharp retort sits on the tip of his tongue, but Sirius raises his hands in mock surrender, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"I didn't mean it in a bad way!" Sirius says quickly, leaning back against his pillows. "We all know you've always had a thing for people who are...well, mean. Especially to you." He gestures with one ringed hand, his expression smug.

James opens his mouth to deny it but snaps it shut just as fast. Sirius isn't wrong. He does always go for people who are sharp, guarded, and often unkind. Especially to him.

He lets out a frustrated sigh, dragging his hands through his hair again, hitting the edge of his glasses in the process.

The glasses Alina gave him for his birthday. Months ago.

It's always her. Every detail of his life seems to circle back to her. Every thought, every feeling—everything.

"Prongs?" Sirius's voice cuts through the haze of his thoughts. James glances over, and Sirius tilts his head, his smirk replaced by genuine concern. "You alright?"

James doesn't answer right away. He walks to his bed, sinking down onto it with a defeated sigh.

No, he's not alright. Not even close.