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|Ch. #||Chapter Title||Word Count||Reviews|
In Which It Probably Wasn't My Fault
"It's not my fault he's got a delicate nose," I grumbled.
In Which We (Sort of) Save Fred's Life
Tara opened her mouth to speak but trailed off as Professor Lupin stepped into the classroom, looking as pleased with himself as I had ever seen a professor.
In Which I'm My Own Worst Enemy
Sarah snorted. "She nearly melted your skin off last time you offered, and you're still willing to help?"
In Which I Am Terrible with Locks
Potter's face lit up. "You locked yourself out?" He asked, looking a bit too incredulous for someone who'd known me for nearly five years.
In Which It Was Definitely My Fault
He held out the bottle of fire whiskey to me.
In Which (Some) Wrongs Are Righted
Potter hesitated and I tore my gaze away before he released his grip on my arm. His smirk returned. "It's your song."
In Which Halloween and Firewhiskey Happen
"We could run away and start a brothel," Bailey giggled. She had an ink stain on her forehead and a look in her eyes that I was fairly certain meant she was delirious from sleep deprivation.
In Which Rumors Rule Hogwarts
"I can't say I'm surprised, but really, James? In a wardrobe?"
In Which I Break a Desk
"You're judging me," I complained as I closed my Charms textbook. "It's wrecking my concentration."
In Which I'm Beaten By a Quaffle
"Merlin," He mumbled, and before I could do something like beat him with my broomstick, he cupped my chin in his hand to tilt my head back and shoved the rag at me.
In Which I Start a Fight
"Alright, so they won't forget, but no one died, so I reckon things'll settle a little," Bailey backtracked.
In Which We Start a Revolution
"Simmons!" Fred gave a wicked grin and spread his arms to motion to the chaos. "Isn't it beautiful?"
In Which Mistletoe Is a Tragedy
The initial crash was followed by a variety of yelling and cursing, and I rose grouchily to see figures moving outside the window.
In Which Chaos Ensues
"Erm…" he stared determinedly at the floor. "We… may need to evacuate the school."
In Which There's a Reckoning
"This is not what it looks like!"
In Which We Face Our Fears
“I have a question for you,” I said bluntly, praying to Merlin that I wasn’t crossing one of the invisible lines we had so carefully constructed.
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