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I. Second call

September 2029

James had just finished practicing and was heading to his flat, deciding to walk as the early evening looked too good to pass up.

His phone ringed and he picked it up without even checking the caller, his focus on London's busy streets, amusedly obeserving muggles running everywhere with purposeful paces and busy expressions.


“Vic, I’m going to strangle you!”

He had recognized the voice by the first syllable and was now smiling broadly.

“Hello to you too, darling. What got your knickers in a twist?”

“You did, dolt! Guess what I found when I got back home?”

“A devilishly good looking man naked in your bed?”

“If only! YOU FLOODED THE FLAT, IDIOT!” she roared, making him jump.

“I only cried a little while watching Fast and Furious, darling. Can’t blame a bloke.”

A pause. Water sounds.

“You…Victor?” her voice was small and almost vulnerable.

“Nope!” cheered James, popping the ‘p’.


“Actually, it’s James.”

“No, I meant… shit!”

“Still wrong but please, keep trying, I’m sure we’ll find something we both like.”

She was hyperventilating “This is so typical, really, every time I open my mouth I make a fool of myself. I wish I could just be swallowed by the ground.”

“Hard with the current flood.” He said, trying to distract her “What happened?”

She exhaled deeply. James could hear faint splashes in the background.

“Might as well tell you. Victor is a tool and has left the kitchen tap open with a pot under it that covered the drain. I swear to Merlin, that boy will be the death of me.”

“I sure hope not, I love it when you call me.”

“I’m really sorry, it’s just – I know Vic’s number by heart and sometimes I get it wrong… in my defence, your voices sound the same.”

“Way to make me feel special.”

“Oh, yes, I’m sure you need more validation.” She snorted.

It was adorable.

“What do you mean?”

“Aren’t you a star Quidditch player with famous parents and a smile worth of Witch Weakly?”

The said smile just didn’t want to leave his face.

“That’s not fair, though. I don’t know anything about you.”

“There’s not much to know.”

“I beg to disagree, but you may be right. I should make sure. When are we meeting?”


James was tenser that he cared to admit; he had even stopped walking.

“Did you drown?”

“You… you want to meet me?” she asked, hesitantly.

“Do I need to owl you my gran’s smelling salts?”

“Not a bad idea.”

“You have to tell me your name first, though.” James suggested “My owl is smart but even she needs something to work with.”

“Oh, you sly fox.”

“C’mon, I can’t very well keep calling you darling. That’s for after the wedding.”

“How did we even get to marriage? I’m swimming in my flat, Jamie! I have more pressing matters!” she cried out and the splashing intensified.



“Not Jamie, please. All it comes to mind is my sister when she needs something. And my mum.”

“She is a stunning woman.”

“Are you?” he asked, actually interested.

The need to match a face with that adorably shrill and sunny voice was burning in his chest.

“Oh, didn’t I tell you? I’m a model. I plan to become Miss England by 2030 and Miss Universe by 2035.”

Now I’m excited” joked James, planning to send a letter to Louis about his love life.

She laughed uncertainly.

“Not to mention” continued James “That you still haven’t told me what happened after you left the hospital. How about dinner?”

Silence stretched.

“I could be a serial killer, for all you know!” she protested.

James smiled and started walking again “Scientific studies prove that serial killers don’t babysit children.”

She laughed “Sorry, I didn’t know.”

“Well, look it up, good Godric!”

“I could be an old woman.” She offered next, amused.

“I don’t hang out with Louis often, but something tells me you’re probably his age.”


“Better than ‘fuck’ and ‘shit’, that’s for sure, but still quite away from James.”

“No, I mean… I had completely forgotten Louis is your cousin.” she clarified, clearly anxious.

“I forget about it too, y’know. We’re, like, twenty. You can’t keep in touch with everybody.”

“Well… that’s good.”

James smirked “Are you worried?”

She surprised him by saying yes, but quickly changed topic.

“Vic could be my boyfriend.”

James laughed “Then why would Abby bother to psychoanalyse you?”

“You don’t miss anything, do you?”

“Not when you say it…” he said, lowering his voice in what Dominique called the “fatal blow”.

“Ah… well…”

“Go out with me.”

She breathed in loudly.

“I… should talk about it with Vic and Abby…” she said, tentatively, and James could almost see her blush.

His winning smile would have made smelling salts necessary for every woman.

“Please, do. I feel like I know them already.”

“Ok… I’ll call you by mistake soon.”

“Good luck with the flood!”


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