Starman

17th of July 1972

“Morning, dimples,” Brandy chirped brightly as she entered the kitchen, her voice full of energy and teasing warmth. She breezed past Amalia, who sat at the table with a slice of toast and a glass of orange juice, and gave her sister a playful pat on the head before heading towards the kettle.

“Morning,” Amalia mumbled, her voice quiet and distracted. She stared at the crumbs scattered on her plate, as if they were far more interesting than Brandy’s usual cheer.

Brandy paused mid-step, glancing back at her sister, a frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. Amalia wasn’t acting like her usual self, normally, she would have swatted Brandy’s hand away, complaining about being treated like a child. Today, she didn’t even flinch.

Frowning, Brandy filled the kettle at the sink, her brow furrowing. “Alright, what’s going on with you?”

“Nothing,” Amalia mumbled again, still not looking up.

Brandy raised an eyebrow, her tone disbelieving. “Nothing? Come on, I’ve known you your whole life I know when something’s up. You’ve been acting off ever since we left Hogwarts. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

Amalia shrugged and picked at the crust of her toast, clearly unwilling to elaborate.

Brandy sighed, setting the kettle down with a soft clink. She crossed the room, her footsteps light but deliberate, and perched on the edge of the table next to her sister. “Is it your friends? Do you miss them? You’ve been quiet lately. We’re going to meet them in London in a couple of weeks, and after that, you’ll be back at school for another year with them. Plus, you’ve got James and Pete just down the road. So, what’s going on?”

At the mention of James and Pete, Amalia’s shoulders tensed, and her frown deepened even further. Brandy noticed the change immediately.

“Ah,” Brandy said, her voice taking on a knowing tone. “It’s about James, isn’t it?”

Amalia didn’t respond. Her silence spoke volumes.

Brandy sat down beside her, not pushing but giving her sister a moment to collect herself. “You know I’m not going to let this slide, right? Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. You don’t have to do it alone.”

Amalia hesitated, feeling the tightness in her chest. She lifted her juice to her lips, the cool liquid a temporary relief against the dryness in her throat. She didn’t want to cry—not in front of Brandy, anyway—but her emotions felt so raw.

Brandy, sensing her sister’s struggle, placed a gentle hand on Amalia’s arm. “You can talk to me, Amalia. Whatever’s bothering you, I’m here to listen. And if you need me to go and yell at someone—or hex them—I’m more than happy to. I’ve got a few choice words ready for James if that’ll help.” She flashed a mischievous grin, trying to lighten the mood.

Amalia let out a shaky laugh, but it was weak and unconvincing. Her voice cracked as she spoke. “It’s just… everything’s such a mess, Brandy.”

Brandy didn’t press, simply nodding in understanding. She didn’t rush her sister to explain. She knew that sometimes, it took a little while for her to talk about what was bothering her.

After a few moments of silence, Amalia’s words spilled out in a rush. She told Brandy everything—the bitter rivalry between James and Severus, how Lily had become involved, and how she’d been caught in the middle of it all, torn between the people she cared about the most. As she spoke, her voice faltered, and tears pricked at her eyes. By the end of it, her face was wet with them, her chest tight and her breathing shallow, as though she were suffocating from the weight of it all.

Brandy listened intently, her face serious but filled with compassion. She didn’t interrupt, only held her sister close when the words trailed off into silence.

“It’s not fair,” Amalia muttered, her voice muffled against Brandy’s shoulder as she wiped her face with her sleeve.

“No, it’s not,” Brandy agreed softly, brushing a strand of hair away from Amalia’s face. She leaned back slightly, her expression calm and steady. “But listen, dimples, it’s not your job to choose sides. You’re not in the middle of their fight. They need to understand that. You shouldn’t have to fix their problems for them, and you certainly shouldn’t feel responsible for their actions. It’s not your place.”

Amalia sniffed, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand, trying to regain control over her emotions.

Brandy smiled gently at her sister. “I really think you should talk to them. Tell them how you’re feeling. It might not change anything right away, but at least you’ll have said your piece.”

Amalia hesitated for a moment before nodding, her gaze steady. “Yeah. I think I will. I need to, don’t I?”

Brandy beamed, her pride for her sister evident. “That’s my girl.” Then, with a playful glint in her eye, she added, “And hey, if they don’t listen, I’ll have a word with them. Maybe a small hex or two to get the point across. Nothing too serious, I promise.”

Amalia smiled faintly, the first real smile in hours. “Thanks, Brandy.”

“Don’t mention it,” Brandy replied, standing up and playfully ruffling her sister’s hair. “Now, eat your toast before it gets cold, and try not to look so miserable. Mum will have a heart attack if she sees you like this.”

Amalia chuckled softly, a spark of warmth returning to her expression as she finally began to nibble at her breakfast.

•••

The evening was still and cool as Amalia approached James’s house. She had climbed this tree more times than she could count, but tonight, something felt different. Her palms were slick with sweat, and her stomach churned in knots.

As she reached James’s window, she knocked softly, nervously. Through the glass, she could see James startle, his eyes wide as he looked up at her. For a long moment, he didn’t move, as though trying to decide whether or not to let her in. Then, with an exaggerated sigh, he crossed the room and opened the window, stepping back to let her climb through.

“Hi,” Amalia said awkwardly, swinging her legs over the sill.

“Hi,” James replied, his tone stiff. He shoved his hands into his pockets, his stance guarded.

The silence that followed was thick and uncomfortable. Neither of them seemed to know how to start the conversation. Finally, James broke the quiet.

“Do you… want to sit?” he asked, his voice awkward.

Amalia nodded, and the two of them sat down on the edge of his bed, leaving a small but noticeable gap between them. The space felt heavier than usual, and Amalia fought the urge to say something, anything, just to fill the silence. But the words wouldn’t come.

After what felt like an eternity, she finally spoke, her voice quiet but resolute. “I’m not choosing Lily.”

James’s jaw tightened at the mention of Lily, but he nodded, his face unreadable. “Alright.”

“But I’m not choosing you, either,” Amalia added, her voice firmer this time.

James frowned, turning to look at her properly for the first time. “What—”

“It’s not my fight, James,” she interrupted. Amalia sighed, her fingers playing nervously with the hem of her jumper. “You’re both my best friends. But you’re not the only ones hurting in all this. It’s not fair that I have to choose. And it’s not fair that you’ve both put me in this position. It’s just… a mess.”

James opened his mouth, ready to argue, but Amalia held up a hand, stopping him.

“I’ve already written to Lily,” she added quickly, before he could speak. “I told her the same thing. I’m not taking sides. If you two want to hate each other, that’s your choice. But I’m not going to be caught in the middle. It’s not my responsibility.”

For a long moment, the two of them sat in silence, the weight of the conversation hanging heavily in the air. Then, finally, James let out a sigh, his expression softening just a little. “Alright,” he said, his voice quiet.

Amalia nodded. “Alright,” she repeated, her voice steady.

The tension between them eased slightly, though it didn’t completely disappear. Neither of them knew what came next, but for the first time in what felt like ages, they were on the same page.

“I don’t hate her, you know,” James said suddenly, breaking the silence.

Amalia looked at him, surprised. “What?”

“I don’t hate Lily,” he clarified. “I hate Severus, but I don’t hate her.”

“She hates you,” Amalia pointed out.

“I know,” James said, his voice calm, but there was a flicker of sadness in his eyes. He shrugged and forced himself to smile “But there’s nothing I can do about that.”

Amalia rolled her eyes, though a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Well, you’re making progress, I suppose.”

James laughed softly, his expression lightening. “Want to stay for dinner?”

“If I ever say no to Mrs Potter’s cooking, I’ve been body snatched,” Amalia replied, the familiar banter easing the tension between them.

James chuckled. “Right then, I’ll go tell her.”

As he left the room, Amalia stayed behind for a moment, letting out a long breath. Things weren’t perfect but it was better.

She got up and followed him downstairs, feeling the weight on her shoulders lighten just a little.