xiii. Over the Moon

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Chapter ThirteenOver the Moon

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Chapter Thirteen
Over the Moon

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      James Potter breathed in as deeply as he could. For some reason, he felt suffocated. After tossing and turning the entire night, he eventually gave up trying to fall asleep and stared at the ceiling of his dormitory waiting for the sun to rise.

      And what kept him up all night that even pure exhaustion from Quidditch practice wasn't enough to knock him out? That answer was simple.

      Davina Jeanne Covey was someone James never expected to feel so comfortable around, much less speak to on a daily basis.

      Davina was nothing like James. She was cool, collected and quiet; he was chaotic, wayward and loud. She hated the cold; he loved it. And if James really had to contrast themselves, the only thing they really had in common was their music taste. Usually, the two would sit in the common room after dinner and just talk about music.

      From James' love for John Lennon to Davina's adoration for Frank Sinatra, they grew used to introducing new music to each other. Davina's favorites included (and weren't limited to): Édith Piaf, Billie Holiday, Barbara Streisand, Frank Sinatra, and Fred Astaire. James' on the other hand loved: The Rolling Stones, The Beatles, Nat King Cole, and Stevie Wonder.

      And while Davina was addicted to Audrey Hepburn films, James could sing the songs from West Side Story by heart (Davina had caught him humming the tunes more than a few times).

      "Prongs, you coming to breakfast?" Sirius asked, pulling a jumper over his head.

      James blinked and broke away from his thoughts to notice the sun peeking through the window and his friends dressed and at the door of their dormitory. He sat up and shook his head, "No, go on ahead, mate."

     "You alright?" Remus asked as he messed with his hair. James nodded, "Just sore from practice. Didn't get much sleep."

      Soon enough, they left with a nod and told him they'd see him the library after. James was lucky it was a Saturday, otherwise, Professor McGonagall would have given him detention for the rest of the year if he'd been late to class. Again. Deciding to head to the library earlier and get a start on his work before the Marauders came to distract him, he dressed in some sweats and a jumper and grabbed his bag.

      He cleaned his glasses while walking down the stairs and through his blurred field of vision, he noted a figure sitting at the bottom of the staircase. "Covey?" He called when he placed his glasses back on.

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