I'll just give you the instructions so you can read this. normal font is the present. the parts in Italic are snap-shots from their younger years, then somewhere near the end they becomes the set up to the present. (Good luck puzzling it out)

Have fun reading.

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The headmistress' office was bigger than James had ever expected. He looked around with interest. It was the first time he had been privileged enough to enter, and he itched to ask what the silver instruments lined out on the shelves were for, or why the phoenix sitting on the desk looked like it had recently been chewed on by a hippogriff.

Rose glowed with pride as she showed him the shells she had collected on the beach. James grinned and looked at them in awe.
"They're beautiful, Rosie." Rose tilted her head and looked up at him. "Of course they are," she said, "I collected them for you," and she handed him the blue, yellow and pink shells, each more beautiful than the last.
James gaped at them. "Why for me?" he asked. Rose smiled, showing off a dazzlingly white teeth.
"Can you keep a secret?" she asked, leaning closer. James looked around and nodded when he saw no one nearby.
"Because you're my favourite cousin, But don't tell the others I said that," the six year old whispered in his ear.

However, even he realised this was not the right time. Nor was it a good idea to ask which of the headmasters in the portraits were the ones that Al was named after, or why the sorting hat still hadn't been washed once in the seven years he attended Hogwarts.
Thirteen good reasons to keep his mouth shut were glaring at him. Judging and condemning.

The morning when James discovered the stupidity he and Rose possessed for the first time, the sun rose early. He shrugged off his jacket and handed it to her. She excepted it in silence and they both sat down, watching the sun rise without saying so much as a word to each other. He put an arm around her small shoulders and yawned. "Why are we here?" he asked, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.
"dunno," Rose answered. "Thought you'd enjoyed it. didn't you propose we watch the sunset?"
"Nah. Thought you did," James said.
"No, I'm sitting here and biting my tongue so I don't start yelling at you. I'm trying to hide my morning temper for you, can't have you run away."
"Never hang out before eleven 'o clock?" James proposed.
"That is the norm for night people like us," Rose said, leaning against his chest.
They sat in silence, watching the colourful sunrise and snoozing peacefully.

His eyes wondered to the one person in the room who wasn't frowning at him and wasn't mutely converting how disappointed and disapproving she was.
Rose was as pretty as ever.
Distraught and distracted and dazzling. She sat slumped in a chair, her head in her heads, silently digging her nails into her pale skin.

He had the urge to smooth out the small wrinkles on Rose's brow as she was thinking deeply, squinting her eyes at the chessboard.
Her face suddenly cleared up and a big smile spread across her face. She moved her horse to take James' rook.
"Checkmate. I win!" she exclaimed. James grinned at her unguarded joy. "Yes. Maybe you inherited Ron's talent after all."
Rose's eyes sparkled as she hugged him. "I know I didn't, James."

The sudden silence made him tear his eyes away from Rose. He looked around, disorientated without the noise of professors yelling at him. His eyes fixed themselves on Professor Longbottom's round face and he wondered if he was supposed to say something to break the silence.

James took the book from her, closed it and laid in on the table. Rose swept her hair out of her eyes and frowned irritatedly at him. "I'm trying to make my homework, James."
"Don't you want to go out flying?" he asked. Rose shook her head and opened her book, pouring over it again. "You know you want to," James teased, poking her in her side. Instead of squealing, jumping up and declaring he was right, Rose glared at him. "Quiet James, Libraries are meant to be silent." She continued reading.
James scowled and watched her do her homework for a time, waiting for her to change her mind.

James decided silence was best. He had no idea what they wanted from him or what he was doing in the headmistress' office. He glanced at Rose again and frowned. There was something he was forgetting, something to do with Rose.

Rose laid another book on the already towering tower of books James was holding for her. He staggered and almost dropped the whole stack. He regained his balance at the last moment. "Bloody Hell, are you seriously going to read all of these?"
Rose nodded, checking if she'd forgotten anything. "Yes, I have to stay on top of my grades."
"You're a second year," James argued. "That's the most unimportant year of all."
Rose shrugged. "I like studying," she said. James raised his eyebrow sceptically.
"Right," he drawled, "and uncle Ron's gotten over the shock of you being in Slythe-" He broke off mid word. "That's it, isn't it?" he asked. "You're doing this so you'll get at least some approval from your parents."
Rose rolled her eyes and took a few books from him before heading out.
"I have no idea what you are talking about," she said.

"James?" Professor McGonagall's lips were thin white stripes, almost non-existent. James blinked. "Yes, ma'am?"

Without saying a word, James took Rose's small hands in his and laid them in his neck. He shivered from the cold contact. Rose hissed as feeling flooded back into her hands.
"You really ought to put on gloves before engaging in an snowball fight," James said, shaking his head in disapproval. Rose scowled. "I didn't mean to. Scor threw a snowball at me and then they all thought I was playing. I didn't really have a choice."
James frowned. "The Malfoy boy?" Rose shifted her hands and pinched him. Goosebumps appeared on his skin.
"I wish you would stop calling him that. He's nice. he even stood up for me in class once, it was brilliant."
James bit his cheek and nodded. "I'm sure he did."

McGonagall's lips reappeared for that fleeting second when she spoke. "I asked you to explain yourselves."
Rose gave no indication of having heard except for the drips of blood that now slowly gathered around her nails. The blood was almost as red as her hair.

Rose took the cupcake from the house elf and thanked him politely. James smirked as she reassured the elf that he hadn't preformed his task too slowly. "Give it a rest, Rosie. He won't hear your compliments, they only hear your complaints." Rose threw a piece of the cupcake at him. "So, they're the opposite of you?" she asked.
James shrugged. "Pretty much. Of you too."
"I am perfectly fine at handling critics, thank you very much," Rose said. James eyed the piece of cake in her hand, but she popped it into her mouth instead of throwing it at him. It disappointed him.

James watched Rose starting to shake slightly and knew which lullaby she was murmuring to herself. "I can't ma'am. I barely understand myself, myself. Let stand that I can understand and explain Rose."

The clouds covered more and more of the night sky and James frowned in irritation. Of all the nights it could have been cloudy, it had to be today.
"Too bad," Rose sighed as she shifted next to him. "Yeah," James agreed. "I'm sorry. You were right, we should've gone yesterday."
Rose's hair tickled his face as she burrowed her face in the crook of his neck. "Don't be silly," she murmured against his neck. "The clouds are beautiful. You were absolutely right. Tonight's lovely."
James chuckled and put his arm around her. "What if it rains?" he asked, watching the moonlight dancing along the edges of the clouds.
"Than we'll dance," Rose whispered, closing her eyes.

"Very witty of you." Professor McGonagall said, irritation lacing her voice. James looked at her in confusion. He wondered why she was irritated. He wondered if he might have misunderstood her. He wondered if he should tell her about the alcohol stash under his bed that had diminished considerably today.
"Now answer my question." Apparently she assumed he knew what she meant by that

"Ready?" Rose asked with a wink. James grinned in response. "I was born ready."
"Oh, that isn't a cliché," Rose drawled. James reached out and swept the bang out of her eyes. "What about you, ready?" Rose stuck out her tongue, spun on her heel and took her position further along the hallway. Their victim was a gangly Ravenclaw that screamed very girlishly when the snake eyes and news eggs slid down his neck.
It was a real shame Professor Flitwick saw James throw the Snake eyes; James was forced to hear yet another speech about how he wasn't supposed scare and prank other people.
When Rose walked by with the most innocent face in the history of innocent faces, Flitwick stopped her and began preaching about how James should take Rose as an example and how he should be more responsible and proper and hard-working like her.
Rose was smirking at him when Professor Flitwick wasn't looking.

"I don't know how, ma'am," James said slowly, averting his eyes.
Another oppressive silence fell and James found himself staring out of the window into the night sky, wishing he was out there, flying.
"Please," Professor Neville said, "could you at least try, James."

Rose crinkled her nose as she took a sip from the red liquid. "It burns my throat," she complained. James grinned and gulped his glass down in one swing. "You're damn right it does," he agreed. She took another sip. "And it tastes awful. Why don't we just drink pumpkin juice?"
James grinned and took the glass from her, drinking it in one swig as well. "Oh Rosie, you have so much to learn," he said as he led her over to the dance floor, circling her waist with his arms. He swayed lightly to the music.
"And you are so lucky with me as your mentor." Rose scowled and flicked her curls out of her face.
"Rule one. You dance when someone asked you to a party."
Rose obediently started to sway, but she stayed ridiculously far away from him. James tusked and pulled her closed. "That's no way to dance."
Her body pressed up against his. It was the first time that he noticed the curves that she had gotten over the summer. He leant his head on hers and took a deep breath, smelling the flowery sent of her hair.
"Now we are within hearing distance, let me tutor you about alcohol," he said. Rose laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Do tell."
"You don't drink it for the taste. We drink it for the effect." He said wisely.
"That does explain your behaviour." Rose agreed. "Let's get another round of drinks."
James looked down at her in surprise and the smile on her face was so deliciously wicked he had the sudden surge to kiss her.
Needless to say, he didn't.

James hesitated and looked at Rose again, wondering how to explain himself.
She was shaking noticeable now. James had to fight against every impulse to stop himself from crossing the room and putting his arms around her.

"I don't know James," Rose said, looking at the cold water with a crinkled nose.
James smirked. "I knew you'd back out," he said, sitting in the wet, half frozen grass. Rose took another look at the black lake and bit her lip. "Okay, I'll do it, but only if you do it too. Strip."
"No, that was not the deal," James said. Rose laughed and pulled him closer. "But it would be so much more fun if we both do it." Rose said, slowly stepping into his private bubble. James swallowed and looked in her eyes. Rose winked and started unbuttoning his shirt, not looking away from his eyes.
"What are you doing?" James asked. Rose pulled of his shirt and quickly stripped herself from her vest and shirt, revealing a red bra.
"Loosening up," Rose said and unclasped his belt and pant in one fluent motion. James wondered if he should go and kill all the boys she had ever fooled around with, just in case she had learned to do that from one of them.
She leaned in and whispered something in his ear. Her hot breath on his neck and her breast pressed against his bare chest made him go mad with desire.
"Now don't be a chicken."
And with that she stripped herself of her skirt and jumped in the lake with a cry of excitement.

"Rose is reasonable, smart and proper. I am wild, impulsive and unreliable. Rose is the perfect example of how parents want you to be, where I am the perfect example of how your parents don't want you to be. And we're best friends." James said, thinking of how other people saw them.

"What'ya mean, how come I and Rose get along so well?" James asked confused, looking at Fred as if he had just pronounced he loved to dance naked on weddings, or that he enjoyed the sound of nails scratching a blackboard.
Fred shrugged. "Dunno. You two are just so different. She likes school work and follows the rules, and it's your life goal to break them all." James scoffed. "Rubbish."
"Inside she's like us. Wild and loose. You just never saw her like that."
Rose passed them with a friend of hers, talking about which OWLs they had to achieve for which jobs. Fred gave James a doubtful look. "I think you're just seeing into things. No way she's loose and Wild."

"And that is it?" professor Longbottom asked. "You're best friends?"

Rose buried her face into the crook of his neck as sobs wrecked through her body. James hugged her tightly, rubbing soothing circles into her back. "What happened?" he asked.
She shook her head. "It doesn't matter." She said, rubbing away her tears. "'s Stupid. What matters is that I'm here with you." James smiled weakly and stroked her hair. "I'm serious. What happened? I want to know who I have to beat up."
Rose chuckled through her tears. When James had been younger, his mother had once told him that only people in love could cry and laugh at the same time. He wondered if this counted, and if it did, who she loved.
It wasn't a pleasant thought.
"What is it?" Rose asked, feeling him tense. She abruptly stopped crying and searched his face. James refused to meet her gaze, afraid that she would be able to read him through his eyes. "James?" she asked, cupping his cheek with her hand. James swallowed and allowed her to force him to look at her.
"Is it because I won't tell you what happened?" she asked. James shook his head. He felt her breath in his face and marvelled at how close they were.
And yet, they had never been further apart. Cousins weren't supposed to be thinking like this. Cousins weren't supposed to look at the other's cousins lips and know he would give anything if he could just kiss them. Maybe if he kissed her, he would be satisfied and this sick obsession would finally come to an end.
Then he was kissing her. He wasn't sure who had started the kiss, but that didn't matter. All that mattered where her hands in his hair, her body pressed up against him and her lips on his.
A spark went through him and he knew, his desire for her wasn't quenched; it was insatiable

"That is it." James agreed. "What did you think? That we had some steamy forbidden love-affair?" Professor Longbottom's ears turned red in embarrassed.

"You know what's utter rubbish?" Rose asked, sitting down next to James and leaning against his chest. James put an arm around her. "Sure, my transfigurations essay and Al's potions homework." Rose cracked a small smile that refused to reach her eyes. "That too," she admitted.
"Okay, then what do you mean?" James asked, looking at her barely concealed irritation.
"All those things people say about eyes," Rose said hotly. "I's so ridiculous. They aren't orbs, they aren't like a forest, or like the ocean, or a stormy sky."
She looked at his eyes. "I mean, what would they say about your eyes?" She lowered her voice to a husky whisper. "You're eyes are like a monkey throwing with faeces."
James laughed. "I see your point."
Rose shook her head. "It gets even worse. Have you ever been able to see a lie is someone's eyes? Or any emotion at all?" James cocked his head and thought about it. "No, but I did have the feeling someone read my eyes once."
"I can guarantee that she didn't. Or was it a he?"
James shook his head again. "No, it was a she."
"Well, then she couldn't. Really, all that fuss people make about eyes drives me crazy, and not in the good way." James chuckled and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. "How come you're thinking about it now?"
"Oh, this bloke I've been seeing can't get enough of eyes this, eyes that," Rose said nonchalantly.
James tightened his grip around her as her words stabbed at his heart.

"But I'm not here to answer questions about the relationship between me and Rose, right?" Professor McGonagall shook her head and stood up, surpassing James in height. "What I want to know is why Mr. Scorpius Malfoy is currently residing in the Hospital wing."
Comprehension dawned on James as he remembered what he had forgotten.

"Who did this to you?" James growled, taking in the dishevelled appearance of Rose. She shrugged.
"No one," she said in a dull voice. She pushed passed him and stumbled when she tried to climb the stairs. James caught hold of her arm and pulled her back. "Rose?" he asked. She didn't meet his eyes and tried to pull free.
"Let me go James."
Her voice was distant and cold and almost broke his heart. He pulled her skirt down so it covered her properly and spun her into his arms. "Look at me, Rose."
She didn't. "Please James." Her voice quivered. "I really need to be alone right now."
"We can be alone together."
She shook her head and pulled her hand out of his grasp. "I mean really alone. I'm going to bed."

James looked at Rose again and his heart skipped a beat when she looked back at him. Her blue eyes were filled with tears and begging him not to answer the question.

His hand crackled along Malfoy's jaw and James heard a satisfying crunch. Whether it came from Malfoy's jaw or his own hand, James didn't know. "You little fuck. You dirty little fucker." James spat and hit Malfoy again in the face, this time right on his nose. blood spurted and Malfoy fell backwards, clutching the bridge of his nose. He scrambled back, looking at James in fear and confusion. "You did it to her, didn't you? Did you know she hasn't left her dorms for three days?"
Comprehension dawned on Malfoy.
"Oh... That."
James kicked him in the stomach. "yes, that." And he kicked again, enjoying the feeling of soft flesh giving way.
"I am going to say this once Malfoy," he kicked. "This is only a warning." Kick. "If I even see you," kick, "Within twenty feet of Rose," kick, "I will come after you." Kick.
Malfoy moaned with each kick and tried to crawl away. He wasn't very fast. James set his foot on Malfoy's hand. "One more thing, and I can't stretch this enough." He put his full weight on Malfoy's hand. The bones snapped under his boot like twigs.
"Stay away from my family."
With that, he took out his wand, hatred burning in his mind.
"Rapist," he spat.

"He mocked my family." James lied.

James drained the last liquid in the bottle and looked sorrowfully at it. "You're too quickly empty," he said, and dropped it to the floor. The sound of shattering glass echoed along the corridor in the dungeons. He ignored it, continuing to walk.
The stone passage swam before his eyes, but James staggered on, looking for the entrance to the Slytherin common-room.

He was released an hour later with the news that he was suspended for a week. James kicked at the leg of a suit of armour, the last remains of alcohol steadily leaving his blood. Rose hurried past him, her hair flying behind her as she ran. Bare feet on cold stone.

"Rose," James whispered when he entered her dorm. She looked up in surprise. "James? What are -"
James cut her off by pressing his lips to hers. She hesitated against him, a war brewing within her.
She gave in to his kiss and laced her fingers through his hair. James groaned and pulled her closer by her hips. She was on his every sense and for a moment, James could feel the world turn around her. Then it was gone, and it was like any other drunken kiss. They weren't gentle. It was rough, and raw, and perfect.
James clumsily fumbled with her shirt. Rose broke of their kiss and drew back, looking him in the eye, her chest heaving as she was breathing heavily.
She must have known he was drunk. She must have tasted it or smelled it on his breath, and yet she asked him in a husky voice; "are you sure?"
James nodded and threw her on her bed.

James caught her arm and pulled her back. Rose turned around and looked at him with her dark blue eyes. She looked tired - exhausted even. Pale, red-rimmed eyes with dark circles and covered with freckles.
"Rose?" he asked. She nodded silently, refusing to speak or meet his eyes.

"You really don't know me do you?" Rose shouted. James covered his ears as bone-crushing pains coursed through him. "How could you, James? Just because you though he had done something to me? Scorpius never did anything to me, he was always so kind! I was just stressing out over school! How you can think he did something to me? Even if he did, how can you beat him up like this?" Tears were running down her face. "We could work it out by ourselves, by talking."
James stared blankly at her, not taking in a word she said. All he saw were the tears running over her cheeks.
"We were good together. We were Happy, and you just had to ruin it!"
James blinked and focused himself on her words. "Happy," he said. The word tasted foreign in his mouth.

"Answer one question for me." He winced at how desperate he sounded to his own ears.
She nodded meekly.
"Are you really organised and tamed, studious and careful. Hard-working and passive, selfless and confident, and happy, like everyone but me seems to think?"

They both knew she wasn't happy. Others thought she was, but not them. Others didn't know her like they did.
She was a lot no one but he had ever known she was.
She was impulsive
Selfish
Controlling
Wild
Loose.
Decisive.
And only the two of them knew she was. The rest didn't know. It was their little secret.
Rose was still crying, shouting at him while clutching Malfoy's broken hand. James looked away from her and was vaguely aware of being led away by Professor Longbottom.
He just registered an ugly gargoyle jump out of the way for him, revealing a rotating staircase.

James studied her while she was thinking, the familiar creases between her eyebrows appearing. He moved closer and smoothed them out, stroking her cheek as he did so. Her eyes flicked up and met his. She looked a beautiful disaster. Pale skin with bloodshot eyes and bloodied nail printings dug into her cheeks.
"No," she whispered. "I'm not."
James stared at her, something warm spreading through him.
"I'm Rosie, who had a morning temper that even matches yours," she said, edging closer. Hope flamed up in James and heartbeat later, his lips me hers.