CHAPTER ELEVEN.
turning tides.
( paper crane no. 803. )

"WHERE IS SHE? WHERE IS SHE?"

A shrilled voice laced with pure desperation of the highest degree echoed through the stone hallways of the castle, the soundwaves infiltrating every open space until they reached the Great Hall, causing the few students who littered the room to glance at the doors in confusion - Mint among them.

Originally, the room had been silent, save for the occasional light clinking of cutlery and ruffling of parchment paper, the atmosphere was pleasantly amicable. Every now and then, a lone student would mutedly stroll in, taking notice of the gentle quietness and obediently adapting to the likeliness of everyone around them, going on with their own business at their respective table as everyone else minded theirs. Throughout the tranquillity, if anyone glanced in the blonde's direction, she would grant them a polite smile, before going back to her book, not obliged to owe them any more than that.

As the impatient cries came to a halt - perhaps, by another external factor growing sick of the shouting - the ambience of serenity soothed itself back into the cracks caused by the sudden commotion, filling them up until the surface lay smooth again, the events of the last minute feeling like nothing but a dazed dream. Hesitantly, with a few cautious glances in the direction of the open doors, the students settled back into their safety net of stillness, and Mint nestled her mind back into her book. She was not about to let a bunch of adolescent dimwits ruin her time to read.

A few moments passed before the screaming started again. But, this time, it was nearer, and louder - the fleeting minutes that had passed allowed the infiltrator the advantage of advancement. For a second, Mint swore she recognised the voice, yet it escaped her before she could ponder on who she knew it from. It would come to her with time, especially if the person was heading her way and by chance passed - or even entered - the Great Hall.

"Psst," a voice hissed, causing the glass wall that was Mint's concentration to shatter, the tiny shards scattering and bouncing on an invisible floor before disappearing into the dark void. She lifted her head to meet the eyes of another Ravenclaw down the table, who was stretching himself as far as he could to get closer to her without actually lifting his bottom off the bench. She gave him a questioning look. "What's that noise?" Like she had an idea.

Stating the obvious, she whispered back, "Sounds like shouting."

Stunned, the boy blinked, as if he hadn't expected such a blunt answer. Well, that's what he got for asking such a stupid question. Shaking his head, he motioned to the doors with his head, "Aren't you gonna go have a look?"

Now it was Mint's turn to be dumbfounded. With eyeballs bulging, she pointed to herself, digging into her chest with a blunt finger, "Me? Wha- I- wha- why would I go and look?" She spluttered, splitting her gaze between the boy and the doors. "Why don't you?"

"You're the one closest to the doors in here," he stated, his tone initiating she was the one asking stupid questions. Peering around her, Mint realised it was undoubtedly true. She was the closest person to the grand doors, perched near the end of the Ravenclaw table - so much so, if she were to shuffle a few spaces to the left, she'd fall off the end. However, that did not mean she had to be the sacrifice. "I'm sure it's nothing," he assured.

If it was nothing, why didn't he go and check?

Nevertheless, Mint chose to keep her mouth shut, afraid that the string of insults which sat her tongue would unleash unto him. Instead, she gave the boy the best-vexed glare she could fathom, sighing audibly as she slid the bookmark into her book and shut it closed.

"Fine," she mumbled, before adding under her breath, "Coward," as she lifted herself from her seat, an awkward numbness erupting through her bottom from the interminable length of time she'd spent sat. At her departing figure, gazes fleeted upwards. Mint couldn't help but allow the wave of discomfort to course through her body all at once - were they all expecting the same of her? Was the boy just the sacrificial scapegoat used to recite the order given by the dogs?

She knew it was a reach, but she couldn't help the roll of her eyes as she mumbled out, "appreciated," exiting the Great Hall with her book clutched firmly to her chest - almost like a safety blanket to whatever horrors she was about to discover. At the realisation, she nearly chuckled at the absurdity.

Truly a kid at heart.

By now, the shouting had ceased to a low hum, which made Mint feel that much better. Perhaps the person shouting wouldn't impact her direct path at all. Someone else's? She couldn't say but only pray for the poor bugger.

Walking through the corridors of the castle, Mint found herself mindlessly navigating the Clocktower Courtyard, which lay deserted and peaceful. Out here, she got a clearer view of the Scotland skies at dusk.

The languorous noon sun had succumbed to the sweet rays of the late afternoon sunlight, the sky dyed in hues of mellow orange and rose, bathing the land below in a most delightful hug, packed with warmth and a sweet kiss of plenty. Yet still, a wintry chill settled in the air as it nipped at Mint's cheeks and nose, contrasting a warm blush against her ice skin.

Craning her neck upwards, her rosy lips formed a perfect 'o' as her attention was swept by the sea of pillowy clouds up above. Languidly, they floated by, joining each other in great harmony, almost like a synchronised dance of water drops, coasting along, unbothered by her watchful eyes. She allowed herself to momentarily enjoy it, her skin tingling as it replenished itself.

However, her stupor was quickly interrupted as she was tackled into a fierce hug, the unfamiliar arms lifting her off the ground. Mint's book slipped from her grasp as she attempted to stable herself in the stranger's tight hold, unwanted strings of panic erupting from her chest.

She hadn't even heard them approach.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," the unknown force chanted, bouncing her figure up and down so aggressively that she felt positively nauseous. To tell the truth, she'd never really had someone manhandle her like this before - others usually inclining towards her cautiously, as if she'd break at the touch, or refraining from touching her altogether. Perchance the intruder let go a tad, she'd enjoy the new experience - revel in it, maybe.

Mint let out a startled cry, bunching the material of the unknown person's jersey into her fists. The red and gold fabric between her palms oozed a translucent liquid onto her skin, causing Mint to cringe, but not enough for her to let go. She wasn't about to risk being dropped.

Mint hastily blinked, "What's goin' on?"

The stranger increased the intensity of the bouncing, throwing in the occasional spin. "We won, we won, we won! Gryffindor won!"

A rumble of footsteps broke behind her, furthering Mint's confusion - and alarm. Squirming in the hold, she tried craning her head around to potentially grasp some kind of comprehension on the matter. However, she was quick to stiffen at the sound of quiet laughter pervading the courtyard.

If she knew any better, it appeared the newcomers were giggling at the sight - at her. And at that possibility, Mint wanted nothing more than to scream and kick and demand she was to be released - yet to no avail, the grip tightened around her legs with every slight movement. Any tighter, and the blood circulation swimming through her legs would cut off, acting as a potential tourniquet - which made Mint's spin. So, all she could do was wait until the stranger had the mercy to put her down.

Or at least calm the intense shaking.

"Mint!"

"Fuck me, Mar, you're gonna kill the girl!"

Mar? As in Marlene? Marlene McKinnon?

Mint's eyes bugged down at the blonde mop of hair.

Another voice yelled, "McKinney, give us a wave if you need help!"

"How the fuck is she going to do that, dickhead? She can't even move them!"

"Blink then!"

Even though Mint couldn't see any of their faces from her uncomfortable position, she could only imagine the bewildered expressions on the other's faces at the response - however many of them there were. Mint suppressed the bubbling laughter that crawled up her throat - or really was it the acid from her stomach rising to the surface as a consequence of being violently shaken? She didn't know, gulping just in case.

Marlene craned her head upwards and grinned at the captured girl trapped in her arms, finally having ceased both the excited bursts of energy and love confessions. Mint appreciated it - she really did - but not in such a position she was in as of current. Couldn't she of confessed in not such a violent manner? One that didn't make Mint want to throw up everywhere?

"Did I tell you you're my favourite person ever?" Marlene confessed, giving her an extra shake.

On second thought, Mint took it back. She did not appreciate it.

Mint gave her a tight smile, which appeared more like a grimace, "While I'm flattered, Mar... I- can't breathe," she panted, weakly kicking her legs in protest - being the only available limbs she could freely move, without the restriction of two pale - albeit strong - arms. She couldn't lie, all that shaking had brought on a faint headache.

"Oh shit- sorry," Marlene apologised, lowering the girl to the ground. Mint internally cheered as her feet met the cobblestones underneath. The girl's eyes skim Mint's state, guilt immediately pooling in the pit of her abdomen, "I got a little carried away."

A little?!

The Gryffindor chaser was always scolded for being too rough, but it wasn't as if she did it deliberately. Her line of being on a team of such an unruly Wizarding sport caused her to subconsciously adapt. She'd forgotten to tune down the rugged behaviour around Mint.

"You okay?"

"I will be," she replied autonomously, pressing her palm to her clammy forehead. At the clear dejection on Marlene's face, she jokingly added, "Couldn't have warned me beforehand?" As a result, her Gryffindor friend brightened up, a cheeky grin replacing her previous frown, leaning in to wrap her arms around the shorter blonde once again. However, this time around, she was careful to not apply the same amount of pressure, making sure the flesh of her body barely skimmed Mint's and tapping her gently on the back.

In response, Mint rolled her eyes exasperatedly. She wasn't that weak. She wasn't a house of cards, knocked down by trifle matters. She could handle a hug. She could handle a little pressure.

Gripping the curve of Marlene's elbow, Mint forcefully pulled the girl into her arms, properly wrapping Marlene in a tight embrace. She burrowed her head into the warmth - and sweat - of Marlene's shoulder, mumbling out, "Congratulations, Mar. You did so well."

"You helped," Marlene responded quietly in the comfort of Mint's body.

"Did I?"

Marlene nodded, pulling away, "Your crane, remember? That's why I was looking for you. You were partially responsible for our win. We couldn't of done it without you," she concluded. Blinking owlishly, Mint let out a soft huff before chuckling to herself, her tongue sweeping the entirety of her bottom lip, wetting the plush surface.

While Marlene's adamancy about Mint's contribution to the game's success was heart-warming, she couldn't help but wonder what the outcome would've been provided they didn't win. Would Marlene's reaction have consisted of something else? Something uglier? Would she have blamed Mint for a circumstance completely out of her hands? Would it have broken not just Marlene, but others as well? Perhaps - herself included?

Why did it feel like the majority of her relationships revolved around her paper cranes, and not Mint herself? Say, if her life hadn't bred of such turmoil, would she even be friends with these people? Alice? Marlene? Lily? Irene? And... James?

Mint couldn't lie, she was becoming afraid. Even more than she already was.

She was afraid that one day her cranes would undoubtedly turn on her. Instead of granting her the nirvana she so desperately sought, they would pursue her into destruction. They'd crumble down all the towers she'd specifically built rock by rock, creating a stone fortress around her, shielding her soul, body and mind from the paper cranes which had now become a machine, become a weapon, become an enemy.

And she wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

Settling with a shake of her head, Mint chuckled lowly, "I don't think that's true." Instantly, Marlene opened her mouth to argue, but Mint got there first. "Well done, anyways. You're through to the next round," she smiled, however, it had lost its power. She hoped Marlene couldn't tell the difference.

"You don't think you could give another for then, could you?"

There it was again.

At her brazen question, Mint's response came hesitantly, "Not unless I gave one to another member of the team," her voice shook, but not to the degree Marlene could catch it. Mint knew exactly who else was on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, and she hoped it never got to that point. She hoped this was a one-off. That Marlene would be the only member on the team to ever receive one on such matters - or at all. "But then again, I think that depends on-"

A forced cough resounded through the air, causing the pair to stiffen on the spot. Too caught up in the whole ordeal, they'd forgotten about everyone else who'd undeniably watched the whole engagement without saying a word. Heat rushed to Mint's cheeks as she recognised the fact she had yet to turn around and face the others, having been swept into the most confusing state of affairs. It seemed both Mint and Marlene were awfully forgetful today.

However, much to Mint's chagrin, a familiar, deep voice from behind caught her attention before she could begin to progress spinning on her foot. "Here," he spoke, while large, calloused hands with veins that protruded down the flesh of his arm held out an item between his thin, and slightly crooked, fingers.

Her book - the one she'd been reading back in the Great Hall.

Funny, she didn't even remember dropping it.

In such a short time frame, Mint had managed to forget why she'd come out to the courtyard in the first place. Briefly, she'd forgotten the shouting - well, at least now she knew who the culprit of all that commotion was, and who she was - and the boy, whom she fervently wanted to punch, even though really he hadn't done anything too dire.

Gazing up to meet his eyes, she found herself stepping back at the sheer intensity immersed within his eyes, his own boring into hers. Sending him a quizzical look in an attempt to cover up the panic laced in her features, Mint tried to depict the emotions saturated in his stare. Nevertheless, she came short, causing her to avert her gaze back to the book.

"Thanks," she mumbled, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth to chew on it, anxiously. "I think," she added, under her breath.

She refrained from looking at him for too long. Flashes of Wednesday's events beamed through her mind, casting her back to the memory of his body on hers, his lips placing themselves on her forehead - as if they belonged there, and had always belonged there. The numbness of his touch against her skin, burning the soft flesh as he carved his name into her body. It had haunted her ever since.

Yet, was it so dire of her to say she craved more? Of him? Even after everything said and done?

Probably.

Abruptly, from behind her, someone let out an infuriated sigh, "Alright, is someone going to tell her, or should I? Because you're all taking your fucking time, honestly," he nagged, and Mint recognised the voice immediately. She fully expected him to be present the moment she locked eyes with the boy sporting round glasses, and she definitely wouldn't be surprised if the last two were behind her as well- as a matter of fact, she knew they were.

Mint spun around to face him, thoroughly examining his face in hopes it'd hint at a secret his lips could never express. She furrowed her brows, "Tell me what?"

But Sirius never moved.

Instead, Alice approached Mint, leaning down to gently grasp the blonde's other available hand which wasn't occupied by her book, placing a ball of scrunched plain white paper into her palm, before using her other hand to enclose it shut, protecting the precious item inside.

"Here," Alice smiled warmly.

"What's this?"

"A picture of me naked," she winked.

Mint's wide eyes flew up, "Wait, really?"

Strolling over, Mary flicked the upside of Alice's head, causing the brunette to crumple in pain. "Has the win gone to your head, too?" Mary chastised, shaking her head, before turning to Mint, "Ignore her. It's the Gryffindor password," she revealed, gesturing to the paper in Mint's closed palm. Shoulders slumping with relief, Mint sent her a grateful smile, to which the girl reciprocated. "We're throwing a party tonight in celebration of today's win. We were hoping... you might want to come along."

Mint hummed noncommittally.

"Everyone's going," Alice added, having seemingly recovered from the unsuspected impact. "Well - everyone over the age of sixteen. Don't want any thirteen-year-olds at an adult's event," she chuckled, her tone feigning the idea they'd already reached such an age, mature and grown. In a mysterious and peculiar way, it comforted Mint somewhat. The idea that one day she'd make it to that age, just like them. "We made sure of that."

Mint echoed, "A party?"

The pair nodded.

Double-checking, "Tonight?"

Marlene reached forward to squeeze Mint's hand, "Eight o'clock sharp." Mint pretended to ponder on the idea, but realistically, she already knew her answer.

It was always going to be the same: "I can't," or "I'm busy." Or that's what she told people. In reality, Mint wanted to stay clear of potential triggers in unusual situations, afraid of diving in head-first and risking the uncertainty of something new and unfamiliar. At the realisation, Mint chuckled internally; it appeared James Potter was right. She was afraid of everything.

Even parties.

Humming in thought, Mint made a final judgement. "I better not," she declined, her lips curling into a frown, guilt in its rawest form gnawing at her stomach at the visible signs of disappointment laced within her friends' features. Marlene dropped the hand she'd been clutching for encouragement and dejectedly stepped back. "It's been a long week, that's all," she weakly explained, in an attempt to tone down the awful silence and make it less unbearable to endure.

"Ah, I see," Alice nodded, swallowing thickly.

Silence enshrouded the atmosphere.

Smugness evident on his face, as if he'd been expecting it, Peter inclined his head towards James, "Told you she wouldn't," he muttered, almost entirely audible so Mint - and everyone else - would undoubtedly hear his words. Then, he twisted his head to the side, his voice lowering for only James' ears, "Your plan was useless, mate."

Mint's normally quaint features darkened, her frown deepening into a tempered scowl as she glared at Peter. While he hadn't been wrong, it upset her that people made assumptions and judgments based on what their perception of her was - when really, they knew fuck all.

But, was that their fault... or hers? She hadn't exactly given the best impression. But then again, neither had they.

Squaring her shoulders back as to draw up to full height, Mint's eyes blazed with newfound confidence. Perhaps, she'd come to regret this. Or perhaps, she wouldn't.

"On second thought," Mint bristled, her tone clipped and short. "Mar?"

"Yeah?"

"The dress code?"

The corners of the blonde's mouth widened.

James smirked and leaned towards Peter, "Or not."

"Stop your fussing," Irene scolded as the pair headed in the direction of the Gryffindor common room, the silence of the corridor amplifying the sharp clicking of their heels. While Irene was perfectly content - going so far to say she was sanguine, even - this not being her first rodeo, Mint's nerves were getting the best of her, causing her to squirm in her silver dress, pulling at the intricately embroidered fabric around her neckline as if it was the source of her evils. Irene's tone softened, "Hey, you look lovely."

Mint winced at the sensation of her pinched toes tucked within the cramped shoes, and already the bottom of her feet had begun faintly stinging. She shook her head in disbelief, "What am I getting myself into?" Though the blonde had intended the question to remain rhetorical, Irene replied anyway.

"Trust me, you're gonna go in there and have a bunch load of fun," she assured, a part of her exhilarated about the fact Mint had too accepted the invitation this time, and not just her. "That is why you agreed to go, is it not?"

"Sure," she mumbled, "Something like that." With her friend seemingly satisfied with the answer, they dropped the topic altogether.

As they reached the portrait, Mint took immediate notice of the suspicious stillness which lingered in the air, sticky and thick. Evidently, someone had performed the Imperturbable Charm on the entrance, concealing the undoubtedly loud chaos that lay behind in the event of any unwanted visitors stumbling upon the secret gathering.

Smart idea, she thought.

"Password?"

In her hand, Mint unravelled the crumbled paper. "Oh, for Merlin's sake," she grumbled as she saw the contents. Clearing her throat, her tone tinged with uncertainty, she read out, "Er, Oddsbodikins...?"

Irene snorted. What a password.

Instantly, the portrait swung open, pounding music escaping like a blasting wind. As the initial shock of the welcome statement wore off, Irene ushered her inside and into the mass of dancing bodies, all either drunk or on their way to becoming so. Deafening music blared from god knows where as the bass thumped and rattled in her ears, each kick of the drum like a hammer to her skull.

People danced, gyrated and jumped around her, slick and shiny from sweat, and the swarm of body heat in such a compacted area made the air uncomfortably warm. LED stage lights floated above them in every corner of the common room, beaming flashing colours of red, blue, pink, orange and green onto the throng of people below. Mint tried to not look directly into them.

And, needless to say, the most prominent feature of the party was the vast amount of Gryffindor banners which paraded all around the room, embroidered with their emblematic animal in shades of gold and scarlet. Mint beheld the acute sense of pride its members had for the Hogwarts house.

"So, what do you think?"

Even though Irene was yelling, Mint could barely hear her.

Unintentionally, an incoherent sound spilt from her throat as she tried to sum up the influx of emotions from the past few minutes, fidgeting on the spot, "Uhhh-"

"You look lost!"

A voice yelled in her ear, causing Mint to flinch back, very nearly knocking the ebony-haired girl to her feet. It was the Ravenclaw boy from earlier. His face lacked the glossy sheen everyone else in the room acquired - except her and Irene, of course. Had he just arrived as well?

Exchanging a perturbed gaze with Irene, the girl patted her upper arm, proclaiming, "I'm going to find Lily! You know where to find me! And remember, try to have fun!" Then she scampered off, vanishing into the dense, writhing crowd.

Great, she thought, scuffing her pointed heel against the carpet. Now she had no choice but to talk to him.

"Can I get you a drink?"

However, before she could find herself disagreeing, his hand tugged on hers with a sheer amount of strength - that, or she lacked muscle big time - as he dragged her towards the drink table. "Come on!" He smiled, his grip tightening as they pushed past unbothered bodies - the alcohol flowing through their bloodstreams having dimmed all sense of regard. As they made it to the drinks, the music no longer so loud, the boy - she had yet to learn the name of - gestured towards multiple bottles, "Choose your fancy. Let's see, there's gigglewater, firewhiskey, and... pumpkin juice - which I'm certain is spiked, so be wary," he informed her, referring to the large bowl filled with a brownish liquid. "Oh, and regular juice for non-drinkers."

Honestly, none of them sounded like a particularly pleasant option. Except for the juice, but it concerned her whether she'd sound like a loser if out of all the options, she chose the only non-alcoholic one. And at a party, where most came for the whole idea of getting drunk.

Noticing her inner strife, the boy raised an eyebrow, "You drink?"

"Not really," she confessed, embarrassed. Really, she had no need to be, but even those younger than her could hold their liquor. She felt as if she lacked something within.

"Juice it is, then," the boy concluded, pouring the dusty violet liquid into a paper cup. "I'm Clarence, by the way."

"Mint."

"Oh, I know," he revealed, his voice kind, though a deep tug in the pit of her stomach implied otherwise. "The Crane Crafter, right?" She let out a noise of confirmation, knitting her brows together. "Here," she took a small sip of the drink, "Good?"

"Yeah, it's good," she echoed back.

A terse silence befell upon the pair as Clarence poured himself a drink. Mint took advantage of properly scanning her surroundings to digest the fact she was at an actual party. She spotted Irene, Lily and an overly merry Alice a few feet away. Perhaps, if she planned it correctly, she'd manage to slip over to them without the boy beside her noticing.

But, Clarence wasn't finished.

"Look, Mint," he started, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "I need to ask you a favour-"

"Mint!"

A figure bumped into her, their words slurred.

"You- you came!"

Blinking at the sudden intrusion, Mint quickly collected her wits. She tried not to cringe at the pungent scent of alcohol from Marlene's breath blowing onto her face - her own inches away. Instead, she carefully manoeuvred the drunk girl back from her slightly, keeping her stable with a solid grip on her elbow. "I said I would, didn't I?"

Marlene drunkenly grinned, "Mint."

"...Marlene?"

"Have you... have you- seen Mary... at all?" The girl garbled while roughly pushing her index finger into Mint's chest.

Mint tried shooing away her poking finger with her cup-clad hand, all while racking her brain for an answer. "I think she's by the fireplace with Dorcas," she replied. Despite her first reaction being somewhat blurry, she remembered having skimmed over her figure in passing. "Do you need help getting over there?"

"No!" Marlene held out her palm to Mint's face. Mint recoiled. "I- wills- shall be- just fine." Even intoxicated, she was still stubborn as ever. Marlene shrugged herself out of the blonde's grip to widen her arms, and Mint thought she was going in for a hug until she cocked her head, determination firing in her eyes - or was that the alcohol? "See? I'm," she hiccuped, "fine."

"Oh, uh, okay then," Mint breathed out, dumbfounded. "Be careful." As Marlene disappeared into the rage of dancing bodies wobbling on her feet, Mint turned back to the boy with a tight, stiff smile. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

However, Clarence waved her off, "Ah, it was nothing. I'll let you know some other time." He gulped down the rest of his drink, wiping his mouth with the material on his arm. "Shall we dance?"

"Sorry, mate," a voice interrupted, almost amused. "McKinney's not big on fun."

What was it with people and their obsession with chipping in on conversations they were never part of?

Letting out a petulant sigh, Mint took a swig of her juice, swirling it around in her mouth for a few seconds before swallowing, the sweet, chilled liquid temporarily calming her nervous system for the next stage of events.

Swivelling on her heels - literally - Mint finally allowed herself to acknowledge his existence for the first time since she'd arrived. Frankly, 'til now, he hadn't crossed her mind - she guessed she had Clarence to thank for that, his unexpected presence and resoluteness providing her with a distraction from both her anxiety and the boy she knew would be attending, whom of which, was in front of her now.

As she laid eyes on him, she saw the cool facade on his face shatter for a fleeting second as he evidently took in her dolled-up appearance, raking her over in a state of incredulity, before his face returned to its original stance. Mint preferred the small blip - despising the secrecy his features masked.

The first thing James noticed was her hair: the soft, blonde locks released from the tight trap of her ponytail, instead falling elegantly around the nape of her neck and onto her shoulders, the ends curled - all thanks to Irene and her muggle curling iron - and swaying with each movement of her head.

Next, he moved on to her dress: the intense vibrant burn of the varicoloured lights above illuminating her silver dress and casting a relucent glow upon her frame, both her aura and appearance effulgent. The argent fabric hugged her body in all the right ways, flowing down her figure until it reached mid-thigh, her icy skin merging in with the achromatic dress.

She was positively bewitching.

On the other side of things, under the deep vulnerability of his scrutinous gaze, Mint wanted to curl into a tight ball and hibernate for the rest of the winter season. She felt like a naive bunny in the jaws of a hungry wolf.

Until his words hit her.

"Not fun, am I?" She disputed, before mumbling dejectedly, "I can do fun."

James raised a brow, his face speaking for him.

Doubtful.

Fine.

The song changed. The previous upbeat and bass-heavy music spindled into something darker, something heavier. Hypnotising. Alluring. The beat slowed and the drums beat louder among all instruments. Gone had all the jumping and spinning and Merlin knew what else, a new ambience settled itself within, changing the party's ball game altogether.

Mint chugged back the rest of her juice. As the properties of the bland liquid held no content of alcohol - nor anything to spark a burning flame in her veins - Mint relied on the power of the placebo effect alone to alight the blazing fire alcohol would've. With a newfound boost of confidence, she shoved the now-empty paper cup into James' broad chest, squishing the object into no further use, a ferocity in her actions, in her body, in her eyes.

And Mint marched onto the dance floor.

Heart pounding, Mint allowed a gush of awkwardness to rush through her. After all, she was alone, and despite being in the midst of countless other moving bodies, she came to realise the majority had something she didn't and most likely needed for such a song on the dancefloor: a partner. She noticed the contrast in proximity between everyone else, who had their hands wrapped around their other half, versus herself, who stood alone, wrapped arms around herself.

But, notwithstanding the painful feeling, there was no way she was about to externally express it. Mint was fun. She could have fun. Right? Right?

Not allowing herself to fall short of the boy's words, Mint tried to fully immerse herself into the music, fluttering her eyes shut to captivate the sweet cadence of the song. The singer lamented about some dark tragedy within the lyrics, her voice husky, captivating, hidden beneath a strong - but slower - beat, causing Mint to sway along as her conscious focused solely on that, and not the searing gaze on her back.

After what felt like more than a few minutes, Mint felt something deep inside her snap. Her body moved on its own, like a puppet on a string as she let the music overtake her. As she danced, an intrepid euphoria buried beneath her core bubbled to the surface, and took the form of a resounding laugh - however, it was briskly swept away by the thumping music, which was unquestionably much louder.

But Mint had heard it, and it quickly became her favourite sound. It was so inherently... her. Something she hadn't been in a while.

In an epiphanic haze, it appeared, way below, underneath all the layers of molten rock, forged throughout the span of sixteen years, and with each layer compacted with bitterness, hatred and fear, to the core, Mint Rosé McKinney was a just a child - and a very frightened child, at that.

But, maybe that was the worst part of it all: she was still.. just a child.

From afar, James watched through astonished eyes as the blonde lost herself in the crowd, to the music, to the dancing. She was such a stiff character, that seeing her like this... was mindboggling, to say the least. She looked so content, so free. It made James desire to go over and share the same feeling. Bathe in the bliss of ecstasy.

His hand tightened around his cup.

"Showtime."

Downing the rest of his beer all at once, James shoved both his and Mint's cups into the chest of an unsuspecting Clarence. As the boy stumbled back, clutching the cups close to his chest, James smirked slyly. Dickhead.

And with his mind infused with alcohol, James strode in Mint's direction.

Honestly, the blonde felt as if she was the only person in the world, and on top of it. The more she let loose and surrendered to the intoxicating beat of the music, the more she felt her worries seep away into a wisp of smoke. She couldn't even feel the angry hammering of her heart in her chest anymore. And even as the organ begged her to stop, for once, she didn't want to.

Then, two bare hands settled themselves on her waist, high enough to stay respectful but still catch her off guard, the clammy fingers digging into her body. Mint's eyes shot open as she was pulled from her reverie, about the rip the stranger's hands off her body, before all words halted at the back of her throat, her dazed eyes locking with his.

He gave her a hint of a smile, "Relax," he rasped, his voice barely audible. His breath fanned over her face in a mix of whiskey, beer and spiked pumpkin juice, while her own panted breaths meshed with his, creating a blend of a sweet and buttery aroma, along with a few woody notes. He licked his chapped bottom lip, his soft hazel eyes flickering between her eyes and her lips. Or was that her imagination? "You're always so uptight," he whispered. Though the statement was accusatory, his words held no malice.

Mint's face became sullen, "Am not," she mumbled, her lips twisting into a pout - almost childishly. At the lack of an argumentative response, James' cat-like smile widened in a lazy, boyish manner.

He leaned in, whispering, "Are too."

Instantaneously, James' hands tightened and travelled further up her back, heat searing through the material and onto her skin wherever his hands roamed. Oxytocin soared around her body, tingling her skin from the inside out. And once again, Mint let herself fall under by intoxication of the music.

The rational part of her brain, the part that always reminded her to stay cautious and far from situations like these, screamed at her to stop. But the other part, the part that selfishly craved intimacy, the euphoric feeling, the attention from James solely on her, dominated it. As to emphasise the delinquency against her own brain, Mint wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing one hand up to caress at the nape.

As the captivating song pressed on, Mint swore the music had grown louder. With every sway, rock, and turn, the beat grew to blister her eardrums, the pounding in her body becoming unbearable. But, this time, it wasn't her heart seethingly hammering against her ribcage, but her mind. Mint squeezed her eyes shut as she fought an inner battle against herself, ignoring it, suppressing it, clutching every last minute of the paradise she hadn't experienced in a long time.

But, what Mint was about to find out, is you cannot reason with a tiger when your head is in its mouth.

Before she knew it, Mint was pushing him away.

What the hell was she doing?

Her chest heaved up and down. Her breaths were rapid and intense as she tried to formulate what had just happened, what she was thinking - what he was thinking. Having been so caught up in the heat of the moment, in the adrenaline, and the rush of hormones swarming her body having finally been called to do their job, she hadn't stopped to actually think.

James mirrored her intensity.

She stared at the floor in shock - in shame, "Sorry," she murmured, so quiet James had to strain his ears to even catch a glimpse of what she was saying. "I'm sorry," she apologised - like she'd been the one to initiate everything between them, and like it was her fault. "I'm- uh, I'm- yeah." And just like that, Mint was gone.

Yet, had she looked up, she would've noticed the palpable failure embedded into his face, raging into his eyes.

The song changed again.

Disappointed, James stared into the spot Mint had preoccupied.

Vaguely, he heard Sirius drunkenly shout down his ear as he approached the conflicted boy, "How'd- it go?" Albeit, James couldn't find it in himself to reply.

But, one thing was for certain: James was going to have to work a lot harder if he wanted to gain Mint's trust.

And he knew exactly the person.

END OF CHAPTER !!
to be continued.

nini speaks !

ain't that the truth LMAO .
also , can we applaud mint for doing all that shit SOBER . like fuck me , must've been some fuckin good bangers going on wowee . and u rlly thought james changed his ways huh???? nuope ! he's still a raging wanker ! yay ! this chapter felt all over the place, but i tried to write it as best as possible so pls bare w it 🫶🏼
&&. dedicated to Selveyet who made me get off my ass and write this HAHAHA . probs to u baybee bc otherwise, this would not exist for another few
months . love u all , i hope the wait was worth it .

( rewritten; 11/03/23 )