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unconventional-lawnchair · 5 months ago

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Just Kiss Her

James Potter x BSF!Reader

Summary: You find a few unsent letters with your name on them- literally.

WC: 2.1k

CW: use of {Y/N} - typo and nonsense it's 4am and I can't sleep.

The Gryffindor boys' dormitory was unusually lively for a day when James was absent. You sat cross-legged on James’s bed, surrounded by the mess that only four teenage boys could call normal. The faint scent of James’s shampoo lingered on his pillow behind you, a small comfort as the chatter of the room swirled around you.

Sirius groaned dramatically from his own bed, his leg propped up on a stack of pillows. He had injured it during their last Quidditch practice and was now milking the situation for all it was worth.

“Darling,” Sirius called, drawing out the word as he tilted his head toward you. “I demand attention. Do you know how utterly dull it is, lying here with nothing but Moony’s dull bookishness and Wormtail’s horrible color sense for company?”

“I’m literally right here, Pads,” Remus replied flatly, not looking up from his book.

“And you love me,” Sirius shot back without skipping a beat, grinning lazily.

You rolled your eyes and turned your attention back to Peter, who stood in front of the mirror with a tie hanging awkwardly around his neck. “I think the green one is better,” you offered. “It brings out your eyes.”

Peter frowned, his hands fumbling with the knot. “But is green too Slytheriny?”

“Not unless you start hissing and cursing muggleborns,” you replied with a teasing smile. “Just pair it with a gray jumper. Neutralize it.”

Peter nodded, muttering something about giving it a try before swapping it for a blue tie. Meanwhile, Sirius groaned again, this time louder.

“I’m dying, and none of you care,” he complained, flopping back against his pillows like a tragic figure in a poorly acted play.

“You’re not dying,” you said, leaning back on your hands. “You’ve got a bruised leg.”

“Bruised? Bruised?” Sirius gasped as if you’d mortally wounded him. “That’s how they minimize war injuries, you know. Next you’ll say I’m malingering.”

“Which you are," Remus said, still not looking up from his book.

Sirius turned to you, ignoring Remus entirely. “Come on, love. Entertain me. Read me a story or sing me a song or- oh! Recite poetry! You’re good at that.”

“I’m not reciting poetry for you, Sirius.”

“Why not?” Sirius pouted. “You do it for James.”

“That’s because James actually asks nicely,” you quipped, smirking.

At that, Sirius clutched his chest as if you’d stabbed him, his grin betraying his dramatics. “Et tu, Brute? I thought you loved me.”

“Loved, past tense,” you teased. “You’re officially too high maintenance.”

“You wound me,” Sirius said, throwing an arm over his face. “Moony, tell her she’s being cruel.”

“Not getting involved,” Remus said quickly, still reading but now smiling faintly.

Sirius turned his face toward you again, his pout morphing into a cheeky grin. “Fine, if you won’t entertain me, at least come sit over here so I can lean on you while you’re ignoring me.”

You rolled your eyes but stood anyway, walking over to Sirius’s bed. “You’re unbearable.”

“I prefer entertaining,” he replied smugly as you perched beside him, letting him lean his head on your shoulder.

The room was quiet for a moment, save for the sound of Remus flipping another page in his book and Peter muttering to himself as he fiddled with another tie. Sirius, still leaning on your shoulder, let out a long, exaggerated sigh, clearly waiting for you to indulge him.

“Alright,” you finally relented. “I’ll read something to you. Happy now?”

Sirius grinned triumphantly. “Ecstatic. Now, find something good. None of that boring rubbish you usually bring in here.”

Rolling your eyes, you stood and glanced around the room. “Fine, but I’m not wasting my time reading some textbook or Quidditch manual. Let’s see if James has something decent for once.”

Sirius perked up, watching you make your way over to James’s trunk. “Careful, darling, you’re stepping into dangerous territory. Prongs’s secrets and all that.”

“Oh, he won’t mind,” you said, waving a hand dismissively. “Besides, if he didn’t want me snooping, he’d have locked it.”

Remus glanced up from his book. “I’m not sure that logic holds up, actually.”

You knelt beside the trunk, lifting the lid to find the usual James Potter mess: a tangled heap of robes, a few textbooks with worn edges, and a Gryffindor scarf stuffed haphazardly into the corner. But what caught your eye was a small, battered box tucked near the bottom, half-hidden beneath a crumpled cloak.

“What’s this?” you murmured, pulling it out and turning it over in your hands.

Sirius’s eyes gleamed with interest. “Oh, now that looks promising. Open it.”

Remus let out a quiet sigh. “I wouldn’t- ”

“Of course you would,” Sirius interrupted. “It’s Prongs. What’s his is practically hers anyway.”

Ignoring their back-and-forth, you pried open the lid. Inside was a disorganized stack of parchment, some neatly folded, others crumpled and torn. Some were even singed at the edges, as if they'd narrowly escaped being thrown into the fire. Every single one had your name scrawled across the top in James’s messy handwriting.

Your heart skipped a beat.

“What is it?” Peter asked, peeking over your shoulder.

“Letters,” you said softly. “They’re… they’re addressed to me.”

Sirius’s grin grew impossibly wider. “Oh, now this is good."

Remus closed his book, his brow furrowed. “Are you really going to read those? They’re personal.”

“They’re addressed to me," you replied, a mixture of curiosity and nerves stirring in your chest.

“You’re doing him a favor,” Sirius said breezily. “If he didn’t want you to read them, he’d have gotten rid of them properly.”

You hesitated for a moment before unfolding the first letter. The parchment was slightly wrinkled, and the ink looked rushed, as though James had written it in a moment of unfiltered emotion.

Dear {Y/N},

You probably think I’m an idiot. Honestly, you wouldn’t be wrong. I’ve tried to write this letter five times already, and I keep throwing them in the fire. But this one… I don’t know. Maybe I’ll keep it. Maybe one day I’ll find the courage to actually give it to you.

You laughed today. I can’t even remember what I said to make you laugh, but Merlin, it was the best sound I’ve ever heard. I keep playing it over in my head like an idiot, and it’s driving me mad.

I think I love you. No- scratch that. I *know* I love you. But I can’t tell you. What if you don’t feel the same? What if it ruins everything? Maybe it’s better this way. At least I can still be near you, even if it kills me to pretend.

Your voice caught, and you lowered the letter, your hands trembling slightly.

“Bloody hell,” Sirius said, looking genuinely impressed. “Prongs has it bad.”

Peter nodded mutely, wide-eyed.

“You really shouldn’t be reading those,” Remus muttered, though his tone lacked conviction.

But you couldn’t stop. You reached for another letter, this one more crumpled, as though James had balled it up in frustration before deciding to keep it.

I tried to burn this one too, but I couldn’t. I can’t seem to get rid of the things I write to you, even if they’re pointless. You’ll never read them anyway. But writing them feels like the only way to stop my chest from caving in whenever I see you with someone else. Merlin, I’m pathetic.

I wish I could just tell you. But then what? You’d laugh, or worse, pity me. I couldn’t stand that. So, I’ll keep pretending. Keep being your best friend. Keep loving you quietly.

“Wow,” Peter said softly.

You sat back on your heels, clutching the letters tightly. All this time, James had been carrying these feelings- for you- and he’d never said a word.

“See?” Sirius said, looking smug. “Told you this was worth it.”

Remus shot him a glare. “You’re not helping.”

You looked up, your heart pounding. “Why didn’t he tell me?”

Sirius leaned back against his pillows, crossing his arms behind his head. “Because he’s James bloody Potter. He’d face down a hundred Death Eaters without flinching, but one look at you and he’s a goner.”

The door to the dormitory burst open, and James Potter strolled in, looking thoroughly windswept from Quidditch practice. His broom was slung over his shoulder, and his Gryffindor scarf dangled loosely around his neck.

“Alright, lads, miss me?” he asked cheerfully, dropping his broom beside his bed. He glanced at Peter, who was still fiddling with his tie. “Wormy, mate, what’s that? A tie? You look like you’re about to slither off into the dungeons.”

Peter huffed, pulling at the tie. “It’s green with gray accents. She said it works.”

James’s laugh was loud and carefree, but then his gaze landed on you, sitting on the floor with a stack of letters clutched tightly in your hands. The open box on the floor beside you caught his eye, and his face immediately fell.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice suddenly sharp.

You froze for a moment but quickly regained your composure, hugging the letters closer to your chest.

“Reading,” Sirius said from his bed, his tone positively delighted. “Turns out, Prongs, you’re a regular Shakespeare. Real heartfelt stuff.”

James paled as he took a step toward you, his eyes wide with a mix of panic and embarrassment. “Put those down. Now. They’re mine.”

You stood quickly, holding the letters tight to your chest as if they were a treasure. “No, they’re mine. They’ve got my name on them.”

“{Y/N},” James groaned, his face turning a deep shade of red. He lunged for the letters, but you stepped back just in time.

“I don’t think so,” you said, grinning as you unfolded another letter. You held it up dramatically, clearing your throat. “Let’s see what this one says- ”

“Don’t you dare!” James exclaimed, his voice cracking slightly.

“Dear {Y/N},” you read aloud, dodging James as he tried to grab the letters again. “You’re going to kill me one day, and I’ll probably thank you for it. Today, you- ”

James groaned loudly, lunging for you again. “I mean it! Give them back!”

But you were faster, darting around Sirius’s bed and laughing as James scrambled to catch you. “Today, you laughed at my joke in Transfiguration, and I swear I forgot how to breathe- oh, that’s good, James! Real poetic!”

Sirius howled with laughter from his bed, clapping his hands. “Oh, this is gold. Absolute gold.”

Peter, wide-eyed, muttered, “Should we stop them?”

“No,” Sirius said quickly, waving a hand. “This is the most fun I’ve had all day.”

James was completely flustered now, his hair even messier than usual as he chased you around the room. “You’re impossible!” he said, his voice breathless.

“And you’re in love with me,” you teased, waving the letters in the air. Suddenly you paused, as if reality hit you. Your smile grew tenfold as you looked at the letters then to him with wide eyes. “Merlin, you're in love with me!”

That made him freeze for half a second, giving you just enough time to read aloud again. “You’ll never read this, but Merlin, I can’t stop thinking about you- ”

Before you could finish, James lunged and finally managed to catch you, his arms wrapping around you tightly. You squealed in surprise and delight as the two of you toppled backward into the open closet, the letters scattering around you.

James pinned you gently, his face mere inches from yours, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “You’re an absolute menace,” he said, though his tone was more fond than frustrated.

“And you’re a hopeless romantic,” you shot back, grinning up at him.

For a moment, he just stared at you, his hazel eyes filled with something intense and unspoken. Then, before you could say another word, he kissed you- soft and sweet at first, but quickly turning urgent and consuming.

You forgot about the letters entirely as his hands framed your face, his lips moving against yours like he’d been waiting for this moment forever. Your laughter melted into the kiss, your hands clutching the front of his Quidditch jumper as if to anchor yourself.

From outside the closet, Sirius’s voice rang out. “Bloody hell, Prongs, save some for later!”

James pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his face flushed and his smile wide. “Remind me to hex Sirius later,” he murmured, his breath warm against your lips.

“Deal,” you whispered, leaning up to kiss him again.

Sirius groaned loudly. “Merlin, they’re hopeless. Wormtail, fetch me a bucket; I’m going to be sick.”

Remus sighed, his tone amused. “I think we’ve just lost James for the rest of the day.”

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #sirius black #james potter #harry potter x reader #remus lupin #harry potter x you #james potter x you #james fleamont potter #james x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x reader #james potter fic #James potter x bsf!reader #bsf!james potter #friends to lovers #idiots in love

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rudamaruda520 · 7 months ago

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Remus: How on earth you don't notice the "subtle" hints that James are giving you?

Regulus and Remus: *turning their heads towards James*

James: *standing in a t-shirt with "I have the biggest crush on you Regulus" on it*

Regulus: Oh, I don't know... how am I doing that? *moves his head literally one centimetre to the left*

Sirius: *standing in a t-shirt with "Remus, please fuck me" on it, right next to James*

#marauders era #marauders #the marauders #dead gay wizards #dead gay wizards from the 70s #marauders incorrect quotes #idiots in love #they're so oblivious #sirius black #remus lupin #james potter #regulus black #wolfstar #jegulus #platonic moonwater

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monserelates · 14 days ago

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Firewhisky & Trouble

"You smell like Firewhisky and trouble."

pairings: f!reader x james potter

summary: When, at a Gryffindor party, y/n gets a tad bit drunk and some feelings come out.

warnings: drunk! f!reader x james potter, idiots in love, fluff heavy, alcohol consumption, not proofread

word count: 995

The Gryffindor Tower glows.

There’s a golden haze in the air from floating fairy lights put up by Lily, enchanted to flicker red and gold. Every surface is covered in discarded scarves, emptied bottles of Firewhisky, and the remnants of a sugar-fueled celebration. The air smells like pumpkin pastries, smoke from the fireplace, sweat, and cinnamon-spiked cider. Music blares from a record player in the corner, and Arthur Weasley charmed the ceiling to look like fireworks—bright explosions of crimson lighting up the stone walls every few minutes.

The Gryffindor common room has never felt more like home.

They’d won.

Gryffindor had destroyed Ravenclaw in the Quidditch match earlier, and Y/N was currently drunk on FireWhisky and victory—her red and gold scarf tied around her head like a bandana, her cheeks flushed with warmth and giddy pride.

She stumbles through the crowd, laughing wildly as Sirius twirls her around like they’re ballroom dancing. He dips her dramatically and nearly drops her.

“Pads, you idiot,” she shrieks, clutching his shoulder. “You’re supposed to catch me!”

“Darling, if I were any smoother, I’d be illegal,” Sirius grins, hair wild, cheeks pink. “Besides, I thought you were the graceful one.”

Y/N kicks his shin (lightly) and throws her head back laughing. Around them, the party whirls: Marlene is arm-wrestling a sixth-year, Dorcas is playing bartender with spiked pumpkin juice, Lily’s sitting cross-legged on the floor arguing about Quidditch strategy with Remus.

And James?

James is watching her like she’s the sun that just agreed to orbit him back.

He’s been doing that all night.

He’d scored the final goal, had practically flown across the pitch with his hair windswept and wild—he looked like a bloody hero from a fairytale. Y/N had screamed herself hoarse, standing on the bleachers and jumping like a lunatic, pride swelling in her chest like a balloon.

And now he’s standing by the fireplace, drinking a cup of butterbeer, his cheeks glowing golden from the flames, his eyes never leaving her.

She notices. Of course she does.

She makes her way toward him, barely walking in a straight line, cheeks hot for entirely new reasons.

“Oi, Potter,” she grins, poking his chest with one finger. “Don’t just stand there lookin’ pretty. You won us the bloody match!”

James grins, sheepish, like he’s never been complimented in his life. “It was a team effort.”

“You liar,” she giggles, falling against him. He immediately catches her, arm slipping around her waist like it’s meant to be there. “You were incredible. I’ve never screamed so loud in my life. Pretty sure I ruptured a lung for you.��

He laughs—low and fond. “You’re very dramatic when you’re drunk.”

“Yeah?” she says, tipping her head up to look at him, eyes wide. “Well, you’re very pretty when you’re victorious.”

And it just—hangs there.

Heavy.

James goes pink all the way to his hairline.

“Merlin,” he mutters, “you’re gonna kill me, aren’t you?”

She blinks. “What?”

He runs a hand through his hair, suddenly nervous. “You. Saying things like that. Looking at me like that. Laughing like that. It’s—it’s murder.”

Y/N stares at him, stunned silent for once in her life. Her heart is slamming against her ribs.

Then Sirius claps a hand on both their shoulders, completely ruining the moment.

“My favourite idiots,” he bellows. “Y/N, can you help me steal more chocolate frogs from the kitchen?” he asks.

Y/N groans, burying her face in James’s jumper. “I hate him.”

“No, you don’t,” James murmurs into her hair. “He’s your brother. Practically.”

“You’re my favourite Marauder,” she whispers, loud enough for Sirius to hear.

Sirius gasps. “TRAITOR.”

James laughs and tightens his hold around her. “Don’t let Moony hear that.”

“Oh, he knows,” Remus calls from the couch, raising his Butterbeer. “You’re all absolutely insufferable.”

She laughs. "Okay, fine Pads, I'll go." Y/N steadies herself and follows through.

“Oh, she’s sloshed,” Lily says beside him, watching Y/N trip over her own feet and fall into Sirius.

“She’s perfect,” James replies dreamily.

Lily side-eyes him. “You’re pathetic.”

He doesn’t argue.

-----

Twenty minutes later, Y/N plops down right next to him on the couch, nearly landing on his lap.

“Hi,” she says, eyes bright and warm, voice overly deliberate like she’s trying to sound very sober.

“Hi,” he laughs, steadying her with a hand on her back. “Having fun, love?”

“Mmhm,” she hums, dramatically flopping over so her head lands in his lap. “But my feet are being evil and the floor hates me.”

“Floor’s a bastard,” James agrees seriously.

She snorts and tugs on his sweater sleeve, blinking up at him. “You’re really pretty, you know that?”

He freezes. “I—uh—what?”

“I said you’re pretty, James Potter.” She pokes his nose. “Pretty boy. With your dumb hair and your stupid beautiful eyes and your arms that do that thing when you flex.”

James stares at her, red from his ears down to his collarbone.

“You’re drunk,” he says, voice wrecked.

“And you’re soft,” she counters, curling into him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Like a pillow made of stars and good intentions.”

He laughs quietly and lets her stay there, running a hand through her hair.

Much later, the common room has thinned out. Lily, Dorcas, and Marlene are curled up together by the fireplace, whispering and watching like witches at a coven. Sirius is passed out under the snack table. Peter’s snoring on the stairs. Remus is reading—how?, no one knows.

“Y’know,” Y/N whispers later, barely awake now, “sometimes I think if I kissed you, the whole castle would cheer.”

James nearly chokes. “W-what?”

“Mhm. 'Cause everyone knows. They bet on us, Potter. Even McGonagall. I heard her.”

She yawns, her fingers curling into his jumper. “Do you think I’d be a good girlfriend?”

James swallows. “I think you’d be perfect.”

She smiles, already half asleep.

“Cool,” she mumbles. “Maybe I’ll kiss you tomorrow.”

He watches her for a long moment before whispering, “I’d wait forever.”

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outromoony · 3 months ago

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Remus: I think I’d spend my whole life loving him quietly if that’s all I’m allowed to do.

Sirius: I think he deserves better than me. But gods, I still wish he’d choose me.

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dtilmnh · 5 months ago

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Daily reminder that James and Sirius were the smartest bitches at Hogwarts without even trying, to the utter dismay of all of their Professors and classmates. Like you can't convince me that literally all their classes wasn't them just messing around and producing results with concepts that were at least three years above their level.

Sirius waved his wand idly, not even thinking about it, and James’s entire uniform turned Gryffindor red and gold with a silent flicker of magic.

The class stared.

Fliywick sputtered. "Mr. Black, you—you realize nonverbal magic is meant to be taught in sixth year?"

Sirius frowned at his wand like it had personally betrayed him.

"Oh, is it? My mistake."

James just grinned. "Can you make my tie sparkle too?"

Sirius obliged.

McGonagall stalked through the classroom, voice clipped. "Human transfiguration is a complex and delicate art. It must be handled with the utmost precision and care -"

Sirius felt something prickling on his left hand before glancing down and yelping. His hand was now a lion’s paw.

McGonagall whirled. "POTTER!"

James smirked, twirling his wand. "Yes, Professor?"

Mcgonagall only huffed in annoyance. "You are not supposed to be this good."

Slughorn peered into Sirius’ cauldron, stroking his mustache with a mix of bemusement and awe.

"This is a highly advanced potion, one that even skilled potion-masters struggle to perfect," he said.

Sirius glanced at his cauldron, where his potion swirled in a perfect shade of amethyst. "Huh. Guess I got lucky."

Slughorn shook his head in pure disbelief. "I don’t suppose you’d care to elaborate on your process?"

Sirius, who absolutely had not followed the instructions and had just thrown in ingredients based on gut instinct, smiled charmingly.

"Oh, you know. Just followed my heart."

#james potter #sirius black #they were absolutely the smartest idiots around #much to everyone else's annoyance since they actually had to study #the professors were always one step away from hexing them while being simultaneously impressed #marauders #james and sirius #prongsfoot #smart sirius black #smart james potter

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my-castles-crumbling · 2 years ago

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The Marauders, high asf, reminiscing on embarrassing moments:

James: Padfoot, remember that time you almost blew up your cauldron because you were staring at Moony's arse?

Sirius: Hahaha yeah, good times.

Remus: Hahaha, yeah.

James:

Sirius:

Remus:

Peter:

Remus: Wait, what?

#marauders #marauders era #harry potter #fanfic #sirius black kinnie #wolfstar #james and sirius are idiots

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sparsilees · 6 months ago

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it’s almost the end of 2024. can we drop this absolutely inane fanonical idea that harry james potter is “oblivious” or “unobservant” or “average”?

fuck your fanon harry. fuck that soggy tissue who doesn’t inspire confidence in others. fuck that lummox who cannot string a sentence together. fuck that hothead who’d lash out in anger and throw punches at every provocation. fuck that namby-pamby who can’t read clues or between the lines or come up with a plan of action. fuck that sheep who can’t function without hermione’s direction. fuck that neanderthal who’s a messy eater, messy writer, messy speaker, and has poor manners.

who the bloody hell is that? that’s not harry james potter. why are you twisting and malforming him into a bloody clown?

why are you undermining the main character of his own series? boy has an abysmal self-esteem, stays quiet and lowkey, bottles up his truest feelings and thoughts (that we as readers are privy to, but not the other characters!), and has a calm and composed mien so you think you too can dismiss his character easily and strip him down to a skeleton of his canon self and instead carve out huge character growth, redemption arcs, and love letters for everyone else?

you wish to evoke sympathy for draco by making lucius out to be an abusive father and crafting a pitiful childhood for draco when they have an affectionate parent-child relationship canonically, but downplay harry’s abuse? you realise that tom riddle, sirius black, james potter, and hermione granger are acknowledged to be the brightest of their generation, yet forget harry potter and tom riddle are two sides of the same coin, even sharing a similar appearance, and reduce harry to a silly caricature? you make harry magically powerful but wrest his smarts away to highlight someone else’s big brain?

you make him out to be a short dork with a shorter fuse and no idea what’s going on around him when harry and tom are both described as woe-ridden orphans—with all that entails from constant hunger to cold sleepless nights to hypervigilance to the forced, quick maturity—but treat tom true to canon as tall, cunning, and clever, then do an about-face to conveniently slap the malnourished, oblivious, and slacker labels on harry to make him as lesser than?

when he picked up the impervious spell simply from having seen hermione perform it once, when his closest friends have difficulty gleaning his thoughts, when his anger is cold and sharp like dumbledore (ootp was a study in ptsd, next!), when he’s just as tall as his father, was just as ill-treated as a house elf, and rightfully brilliant as the son of lily and james potter—the two powerful and talented individuals who once had voldemort trying to recruit them to join his cause?

the sheer disrespect on his name. the sheer mockery of his character. the absolutely mind-boggling erasure of his most defining traits.

who do you think sussed out most of the big clues, and stowed away all the little, random bits of information in his memory bank, to ultimately piece the puzzle together at the final showdown every end of the school year? who realised as a mere firstie that quirrel was the man hagrid blabbed to about fluffy and the dragon egg? who noted that ginny was withdrawn and unlike herself? who had an inkling fleur had taken a fancy to bill? who picked up on what was brewing between ron and hermione before their own selves? who noticed that hermione cast a confundus on cormac mclaggen during the match? who caught on instantly to the change in tense used for the diadem’s existence and confidently tracked it down? who cottoned on to luna’s longtime disappearance from her cold, untouched bed and the layer of dust? who did voldemort consider his equal? who actually has an uncanny sense of intuition? who calls the shots when the trio gets into a pickle? who?

mcgonagall? flitwick? draco? hermione? blaise zabini? no!

excuse harry for that one time he did not look deeply into the mental workings of a grieving girl because he’s not equipped to deal with them, and has in the first place never been taught to process his own emotions properly because he didn’t grow up in a healthy environment, prohibited from expressing his feelings, let alone vulnerability, and voicing his thoughts!

let’s bury this annoyingly stupid narrative for good. go read the books and refresh your perspective. stop doing him dirty. you’ve already butchered sirius black’s character into a pathetic sisspot. and now you want to assassinate harry’s too.

#i’m so hacked off and upset and can’t bother to be more articulate or elucidate further #harry isn’t an idiot—he’s got brains brawns and brass #he’s an angry boy but he seldom vented his spleen until the trauma hit hard in ootp #harry potter deserves better #harry potter #harry potter meta #character analysis #harry james potter #golden boy hjp #tom riddle #hermione granger #ron weasley #james potter #draco malfoy #sirius black #lily evans #fuck fanon

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