#james fleamont potter

[onion-sliced-apples]

i love you transmasc regulus i love you genderfluid sirius i love you nonbinary james i love you demiboy remus i love you agender peter i love you bigender marlene i love you transfem dorcas i love you genderqueer pandora i hate you jk rowling

[my-castles-crumbling]

no - april 23 - jegulus - @taylorswiftmicrofic - word count: 441

“Oi, Potter!”

Barty Crouch’s hiss caused James to jerk his head to the side as he walked along the corridor, and he saw the younger boy lurking in a shadowy alcove. Normally, James might have ignored the implied invitation, but as Crouch was friends with Regulus Black, who James was head-over-heels for, he didn’t think there was much of a choice.

“What?” he asked, stepping into the dark and eyeing the Slytherin suspiciously.

“We’ve got a present for you,” Barty said with a grin that gave James nervous goosebumps. 

He narrowed his eyes. “What kind of present?”

But without another word, Barty led him to a secret passageway James was shocked to see he knew about, and into a deserted classroom.

There, Evan Rosier stood over Regulus, who sat in a chair with his arms crossed, looking furious. As soon as James entered the room, though, the shortest boy’s expression went from outrage to terror.

“Get him out of here,” Regulus spat. “I don’t want to s–” but then he cut himself off, choking on his own words and cursing under his breath before falling silent.

“So, Potter, here’s the thing. Rosie and I are tired of dear Reggie lying to himself about his softer feelings. So we’ve dosed him with Veritaserum and delivered you here to him. So this time, when you confess your own feelings and ask him if he fancies you, he has to say yes, and we can stop dealing with all the ridiculous denial and pining,” Barty said conversationally, gesturing to Regulus, who was bright red. “So go on. Do your obnoxious thing and ask him.”

James, though, took a moment to look from Regulus’s two friends to the boy in question, who looked like he wanted to melt into his chair. Sure, he could have easily done what he usually did. Teased Regulus, then told him how amazing and beautiful he was. Reminded him how much he wanted him and insisted that, with how much passion they had between them, he had to feel the same way. But now…it didn’t feel right. “No,” he refused.

“No?” It was Regulus who repeated the word, looking surprised.

“If you want to tell me something, you should do it on your own. Not because a potion forced you,” James explained, shrugging. “I’ll be at the Pitch tomorrow if you want to talk, okay? But only come if you want to.” He’d extended the offer a hundred times, though usually with a cheeky grin and a wink. But this time, Regulus didn’t scoff or wave him off. He just nodded wordlessly.

James left before anyone could say a word.

[rowanberryxx]

STOP THIS IS SO CUTE

james potter who watches ratatouille for the first time and attempts to recreate it with peter pettigrew in animagus form to see if its plausible

[mvrphysart]

two stupid boys realising they’re in love

[ghostedgwen]

the one to beat | j.potter

note : yaaay! finally finished the marauders soulmate list! now time to continue working on the t.s + marauders playlist. thinking of making a new masterlist yet again, idk

warnings : slytherin vs gryffindor, houlse rivalry stuff - quidditch too, some alcohol and mentions of parties, nothing too angsty but james overthinks a lot lol, pretty much fluff if u ask me

James Potter thinks the world is playing a cruel joke on him when he finds out that his Soulmate is a Slytherin, to make it worse— they’re the captain of the Quidditch team

Wait for the signal and I'll meet you after dark, show me the places where the others gave you scars.

James Potter had always known his soulmate mark would be a name he recognized. He just hadn’t expected to hate it so much.

He turned seventeen on a cloudy Tuesday morning in late March. The dormitory windows were fogged over when he woke, the air still heavy with sleep and spring rain. And there, stark against his collarbone, was the name that made his stomach twist.

____ ____.

Slytherin. Quidditch captain. Rival in every way that counted. He'd spent the last two years arguing with you across the pitch, dodging Bludgers you’d probably told your Beaters to aim a little too close, and trading barbed insults every time Prefect meetings forced you into the same room. You were smug and brilliant and always, always in his way.

And now, permanently inked into his skin.

He stared at the name in the mirror, half-hoping it would vanish before he blinked again. It didn’t.

The ink didn’t lie.

He didn’t tell anyone at first.

Sirius would laugh. Remus would look too closely. Peter would ask too many questions. And James. . . James wasn’t ready to admit it - not even to himself as the ink glared at him in the mirror.

That night, the Gryffindor common room exploded.

Someone (probably Lily, though she'd deny it) had conjured red-and-gold streamers to swirl from the rafters - always a penchant for expertly casting charms.

A cake shaped like a Snitch hovered dangerously close to the fireplace - in courtesy of Remus Lupin who bribed the elves, and there was a charmed banner blinking out “HAPPY 17th, JAMES POTTER!” every thirty seconds with increasing enthusiasm.

The banner was of course the handiwork of one Sirius Black - Peter helped set it up.

He tried to duck away from the crowd after ten minutes, after the cheering died down. Didn’t work - not with the company he keeps.

“Oi, birthday boy!” Sirius shouted, dragging him into a hug that nearly cracked three ribs - Sirius was always on par with him when it came to that Quidditch physique. “Seventeen! You know what that means - ”

“Legally an adult in the Ministry's eyes?” James offered, but that wasn't gonna get Sirius bloody Black to bite.

“No, you twat. Soulmate day.” Sirius wiggled his eyebrows. “So . . . who is it? Come on. Spill.”

James laughed - forced, a little too quick. “Haven’t looked.”

“Haven’t looked?” Remus gave him a look. “You expect me to believe you’ve waited all day and haven’t checked your body for any new tattoos?”

James lifted a butterbeer to his lips. “Too busy being smothered by all this. . . festive affection.”

Peter leaned in eagerly. “It’s not Evans, is it?”

James choked on his drink - Merlin, that crush on Evans barely lasted during his third-year and til now they have never let him live it down.

Which, frankly, was convenient - they can assume he's sulking. No one pushed after that.

But still - every laugh, every clap on the back, every offhand “Wonder who it is, eh?” made him flinch. He hadn’t realized how deeply he’d hoped it wouldn’t be you until it was.

And now, you were a secret he had to wear beneath his clothes - fucking hell.

You didn’t know yet. That much he was sure of. Your birthday was still weeks away.

But every time he saw you - on the pitch, in the corridor, sauntering into the library with that smug Slytherin swagger - he felt the weight of it.

He didn’t want this.

He didn’t want the pull in his chest when your laugh drifted over from across the common room during a joint Prefect meeting. He didn’t want to notice the way your hair curled behind your ear when it rained. And he definitely didn’t want to wonder if you felt it too.

Because if anyone could ignore a soulmate bond, it was you.

The night before your birthday, James Potter forgot how to chew.

Dinner in the Great Hall was usually one of his favourite parts of the day. Food, laughter, Sirius being a menace with mashed potatoes, flinging it at Peter who did a poor job dodging - what wasn’t to like?

Except tonight, he barely touched his roast chicken.

He kept glancing down the Slytherin table. At you.

Not that he was staring. Of course not. He was checking. Casually. Briefly. Every five seconds - barely lingering but enough to actually look.

You were laughing at something one of your housemates had said, chin tilted back, mouth curling at the edges like you were trying not to smile too hard.

You looked relaxed, golden in the flickering candlelight, your green tie loosened a little after a long day of classes.

Tomorrow, you’d wake up with his name on your skin.

James Potter.

He was going to throw up.

“You alright, mate?” Sirius asked, frowning at him over a bowl of peas. “You’re eating like a sad Victorian orphan whose mother got the flu.”

James snorts. Very creative and descriptive.

“Yeah,” Peter chimed in. “And you’ve barely looked at Evans all week. Something’s off.”

James blinked. “I’ve never looked at Evans.”

Remus raised a brow. “You wrote poetry about Evans.”

“Years ago,” James muttered, pushing his food around his plate, trying not to pout. “I’m evolved.”

Sirius leaned across the table. “Wait - is this about your mark? You’ve been twitchy since your birthday.”

Remus paused. “You did get a mark, then.”

James regretted everything, he was quick to shut them down. “I’m fine. Just nervous for the Quidditch match next week.”

“You’re playing Hufflepuff,” Sirius deadpanned.

James shrugged, stabbed a carrot - the action made the three boys exchange curious glances. “They’re scrappy.”

Remus gave him a long look. “Okay.” he drew out the vowel on his tongue.

James didn't meet his eyes. He looked back down the table again, his chicken has never looked so stale.

You were already gone, having already left the hall to head to your common room in the dungeons.

You woke on your birthday with the hazy disorientation of someone who’d stayed up far too late and hadn’t expected the morning to come quite so soon -

You overdid it again, chugging butterbeers with the other snakes as an early celebration for your coming-of-age. Had you been out of school, it would be a proper gala.

Pureblood customs, your family would be holding a ball at their estate and all the other pureblood families would be invited. Instead, it's butterbeers at the common room and laughter.

The curtains around your bed were drawn shut, the dormitory still dark except for the faint greenish glow of a Lumos charm someone must have left lit on their nightstand.

You rubbed your eyes, already wincing at the thought of the noise, the teasing, the elaborate plans Rosier and Mulciber and the rest had whispered about all week - all the while you acted oblivious to their surprise plans.

There’d be no peace today. No hiding, either.

You sat up slowly.

The air was thick and still, muffled by spells to block out the morning chatter in the common room below. A few of your roommates were still asleep. A few were faking it, waiting to pounce.

You swung your legs over the side of the bed.

And froze.

The moment you moved, your dressing gown slipped, and something sharp and ink-dark caught your eye in the mirror across the room.

Two words. Stark against your skin.

You stared.

Then looked again.

You didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. You just sat there, knees knocking together, staring at the name etched into your skin like it had always been there, just barely concealed - on your shoulder blade. Like it belonged there.

It didn’t.

It couldn’t.

It wasn’t funny. It wasn’t ironic. It wasn’t even poetic.

It was him.

You felt your breath stutter, shallow in your chest, and carefully, carefully pulled your dressing gown closed - hoping the sheer cover could conceal the new tattoo.

Merlin.

There was a knock at your door before you could even think to respond to the rush of thoughts swarming your head.

“Oi,” came Rosier’s voice, full of smug delight. “We know you’re awake, birthday girl. Don’t make us break down the door.”

You didn’t answer.

But you stood.

Because what else could you do?

James Potter was so sure you'd pretend not to know. That you'd ignore him, purebloods were known to ignore soulmates if it did not benefit the lineage.

And yet.

You were the first to speak the day you turned seventeen.

You’d shown up to Quidditch practice late, your expression unreadable. James had stayed behind on the pitch, not because he knew your birthday was today (he did), but because something in him needed to know.

You landed your broom with a thud, gaze flicking over him once. The silence stretched.

"So," you said eventually, voice dry as ever, "the universe thinks this is funny."

He swallowed. "You got it too, then."

You nodded, tugging at your wide-neck collar to reveal your shoulder. His name was there, written in looping script. Faint, already fading at the edges - having been branded with the name of the enemy.

It shouldn’t have hurt. But it did - a slight sting.

James exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "You think it’s a mistake?"

You didn’t answer right away. "I think it’s a test."

He blinked - that was unexpected, he thought he was going to get rejected by his soulmate - the second girl ever, since Evans back in third-year. "Of what?"

"Whether we’re brave enough to try."

Trying wasn’t easy, you knew that. Trying was so much harder than doing, but you offered anyway - bearing all the courage that a Gryffindor was supposed to have.

You still argued. Still glared at each other across the pitch, still fought during patrols, still rolled your eyes when he made a joke in Transfiguration. But things changed.

Little things.

He started noticing the books you carried, the way you always had ink on your fingers. You started waiting up for him after Prefect rounds. Neither of you acknowledged the slow shift, but it was there.

James caught himself staring too long. You stopped correcting him when he called you clever, even quipping to return the compliment without a bite.

The ink on your skin didn’t fade as fast as it should have.

Sirius cornered him one night in the Gryffindor common room, swearing to put an end to all the nonsense.

"You keep looking like someone hexed your broomstick. What gives, mate?"

James looked up from his parchment, startled - of all people to tell him off for acting off was Sirius Orion Black - wow. "Nothing."

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "Is it about your mark? You haven’t told us who it is."

Remus looked up from his own essay, interest piqued. Peter perked up as well - giving up pretending like he was making sense of his Potions essay.

James hesitated. Then: "It’s ____ ____."

The silence that followed was swift - Sirius black breaking it with a loud bark of laughter.

"The Slytherin captain?" Remus asked, the one only to have found his voice.

James nodded.

Sirius let out a low whistle once his laughter died down. "Well. Didn’t see that one coming."

"Me neither," James muttered. Glaring at his best mate who is treating this like the funniest punch line ever.

Peter blinked. "Are you going to. . . you know. Do something about it?"

He didn’t know how to explain that he already was, so he started from the very beginning and let it all out while the boys reacted to every scenario he went over.

It was safe to say, no essay was finished.

You met under the Quidditch stands one night, both pretending it was a coincidence.

"You always this broody after hours, Potter?" you teased.

"Only when my soulmate’s a Slytherin," he replied.

You laughed, soft and surprised - you found no problem with what he said, taking it all in good nature.

And when you kissed him, it didn’t feel like surrender. It felt like coming home, like he was the destination you didn't know you had been dying to reach.

You didn’t go public. Not right away - you mutually agreed.

James liked having you in secret. Liked the thrill of brushing your hand as you passed in the corridor, liked sneaking glances at your fading mark and wondering if yours would last longer if he held on tight enough.

A silent race to see whose ink would fade faster - a million theories came and went but no one really knew the explanation for the ink fading and why, or when.

You liked letting him in. Liked seeing the side of him no one else did - not the prankster, not the captain, but the boy with ink on his collarbone and fear in his chest - reserved just for you.

The ink never fully disappeared. Not from either of you - not yet.

Maybe it never would.

Somehow, you didn't mind being branded by his name - you were his.

You stood together after the final match of the season, bruised and breathless, your teams clashing behind you.

"So what now?" you asked, voice low.

James brushed your fingers with his. "Now we stop pretending we hate each other."

You arched a brow. "You sure you’re ready for that, Gryffisnor?"

He grinned. "If you are, Slytherween."

And when you kissed him on the pitch, the stands fell quiet.

Because some names don’t need to be tattoed to be known.

And some soulmates could choose each other twice.

end.masterlist

[midnightloversmusic]

Hey baby! Can I request something where (sub) james potter and reader are best friends and one day he confesses to her that he wants to know what sex feels like (cause hes a virgin lol) and she’s like “i can… show you?” 🙏🏻🙏🏻😣😣 imagine him all subby fucked out not being able to handle how her pussy feels so much better than his hands

omg thisssssss!!!!! sub James is literally all I think about. I Hope you like ittt!

James Potter x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT

1.8k words

--------

It's a typical Saturday night. James had texted you earlier asking if he could come over; apparently there was a new movie he wanted to see. Sirius had already seen it and Remus was too much of a movie critic so that left you as James' movie companion tonight. 

You and James’ friendship was comfortable. You’d known him since you were kids and you both knew almost everything about each other. Almost. James was a person who thrived on physical touch, so that meant holding hands in public, spooning while taking naps together, and cuddling while watching movies. As you were right now. 

The movie James had picked was action packed and not typically what you’d put on, but you weren't upset about it. You were just happy to spend time with him. He had gone to visit his parents the week prior, and although you had other friends to hang out with while he was away, nothing compared to the complete comfort and ease you felt with him. You two had a rhythm, you worked around each other seamlessly, you don’t even need to think when he's around. 

As the movie progressed through fight scenes and dramatic love confessions it eventually blurred into messy kisses and a very steamy sex scene that you should probably feel awkward watching while laying on top of your best friend–but it's never awkward with James. 

You are busy watching the movie, not worrying about the boy beneath you until you hear a sharp inhalation of breath.

You scrunch your eyebrows and tear your vision away from the screen where the two main characters are going at it on their kitchen counter.

“James?” you question

All you get is a strained “mhm?” in response

“... are you alright?”

You watch him take a deep breath. You even see a slight blush cover his cheeks. Strange.

“I just-” he stops himself and looks back at the TV for a moment,

“I just wish I knew what sex feels like.” he murmurs quietly

You nearly choke on your own spit. You don’t mean to laugh at him, you really really don't. The giggles escape you involuntarily. 

“James, what are you talking about?”

He has to be messing with you, it's the only explanation your slightly dumbstruck mind can come up with. There is just no way your hot, muscley, kind, stunning bestfriend is a virgin. There's absolutely no way that's true. 

But, you think back on all the times you have discussed sex with James. You both tell eachother everything, so why can't you come up with a single memory of him talking about his sex life? You have told him about yours plenty of times. You have told him about the guys that weren't able to make you cum, he’d made fun of them profusely. You told him about the guys that did make you cum, you told him about the hot shower sex you had, about a one night stand that submitted to you so well you swore it was the best sex of your life, you seriously didn't shut up about that lay, and yet throughout all of these stories James just nodded along. He didn’t add to your stories, he never added his own input or told a story of his own.

Your realization must show on your face because James sinks a little further into the couch and his face flushes.

“No, no, no. No. James, baby it's okay!” you nervously laugh

“God, I'm so sorry. I really didn’t mean to laugh it's just-” you stop yourself and take a deep breath,

“You're just you. You know?” “I Mean James you're hot, I mean like ridiculously hot, and jacked and I just didn't expect you to be a virgin that's all!” 

After you finish your rambling James seems to lighten up a bit,

“You think I'm hot sweetheart?” he wiggles his brows at you

You roll your eyes at him and push at his chest. Even through his teasing you think back to what he said. I wish I knew what sex feels like. He sounded so vulnerable when he said it and god, you just wanted to give this man whatever he wanted. 

Your friendship was so open, it wouldn’t be weird. You knew each other inside and out. He knows you’d take care of him and you know that he’d take care of you so, why not? You’d be willing if he was down.

“James” you say with a tone suddenly serious.

You shifted so that your knees were straddling either side of his waist and looked down at him. Suddenly you felt nervous. That feeling was quickly shaken from your mind as James reached out for your hand. He took it in his and laced his fingers with yours. 

“I-, I can…show you?” What sex is like I mean. If you want to of course! You don't have to-”

James cuts of your rambling with a simple “Please”

When you look back down at him his eyes are glossed over. And fuck. You wanted to give him everything. 

You lean down and hover your lips just above his, 

“Is this okay baby?”

“More than okay, please please please pl-”

You cut off james’ begging with a kiss. It's firm, a little sloppy, but so so so good. You experiment by grinding your hips down into his and he whimpers into your mouth.

You can feel his hard cock through his trousers and it makes you go slightly feral. You pull away from the kiss, it’s filthy, and a string of spit connects both of your mouths. You're both panting, James looks undone and you just started.

“Lets go to my bed okay? You think you can do that for me?”

He lets out a grunt, but nods nonetheless. You get up off of his lap and he whines at the loss of contact. He throws his legs off the side of the couch and begins to stand as you reach for the remote to turn off the now forgotten movie. 

You start moving toward the bedroom, James follows. When you arrive you pull James down by the roots of his hair and whisper into his mouth,

“Good boy, James”

James is surprised he doesn’t come on the spot, he lets out a sinful moan just as your lips reconnect. 

You walk him backwards toward the bed and push him down. He scoots up closer to the headboard and your hands come to his jeans. You start to unbutton them as he pulls his shirt over his head. You ogle him with no shame. After you've pulled his jeans and boxers off of his legs you let your hand roam. They move over his chest, watching as his back arches as you brush against his sensitive nipples, you run them over the ridges of his abs and move down. You narrowly avoid his cock deciding you want to tease his thighs instead.

He whines and squirms on the bed as you run your hands over his thighs, leaning down to bite and nip at them. He begs you for more. You don't think you have ever heard a prettier sound.

Eventually you decide to have mercy. You crawl up his body to give him a kiss. You look into his watery eyes as you coo

“Aw James youre looking so fucked out and I havent even touched your pretty cock yet” You fake a pout

“Please, please y/n! I need you to touch me” he pushes his hips up, looking for friction, but you lift up before he can get any.

“Oh I know love, I've been a little mean havent I? My good boy deserves to be touched isn’t that right Jamie?”

“Yes! Yes ill be so good I promise, just touch me!”

You don’t even wait for him to finish before wrapping your hand around his cock. Hes big. Again making you question just how in the hell your sweet boy is a virgin.

“So big Jamie, so pretty” you whisper as you begin to move your hand up and down in painstakingly slow strokes

He whines in the pillow where he buries his head. His hips lift to meet your hands movement and as you move to rub your thumb over his leaking tip he shouts,

“‘M going to cum! Stop! I need to be inside you. I don't want to cum yet please!”

You lift your hand off immediately, and although he asked you to stop, he sobs into his pillow and releases a frustrated moan. 

“It's okay Jamie, you're doing so well for me. You want to be inside me?”

“Yes!” he sobbed out

You strip off the remainder of your clothes and settle on top of him. He looks up at you with his teary eyes and grabs your waist. You reach behind you and pull his cock to your folds. You run his tip through your wetness, teasing him. He's already moaning and shaking from the minimal stimulation.

“Please!”

With his request you sink down on him. The sound he makes is utterly indecent. Your sounds mix together as you adjust to his length. You haven't even started to move yet but his eyes are squeezed shut and he’s chanting don’t cum dont cum dont cum to himself over and over again. You let out a slightly evil giggle as you rotate your hips and begin to move up and down on his cock. 

He lets out a strangled moan and gasps. 

“Shit! Fuck fuck fuck.” he lifts his head off the pillow to get a better look at where your bodies meet but had to throw it back against his pillow in a few second.

He is completely overwhelmed and filled by the sensation of your heat wrapped around him. It's better than anything he's ever felt before. His hand could never live up to this and he doesn't know how he'll ever go without this again.

He tries to last, he really really tries, but it's all too much and he barely has the mind to tell you,

“Cuming- I’m cumming fuck”

“Inside me” You pant out.

And that's all it takes. He cums with a strangled cry. You think he has never looked better. He looks completely and utterly debauched. His hair, usually unruly, is somehow even more of a mess, his face is scrunched up from pleasure, and he's covered in love bites. 

You slow your hips movements and rub your hands soothingly down his sides.

“How was that baby? Did it live up to your expectations?”

He looks up at you with a look full of admiration

“Live up to my expectations? Honey, you took my expectations and knocked them out of the park. That was the best thing I've ever felt. Ever.

You let out a giggle and lean down to give him a quick kiss. When you pull away he's frowning

“Oh god, what now pretty boy?”

“You didn't get to cum.” He states,

“I need to make you cum, it's not fair-”

You stop his ramblings 

“How about we save that for next time, yeah? I'm okay, I'm just happy I got to make you feel good. Lets get cleaned up, okay?

“Next time?” he questions,

“Next time.”

[hedgehog-troops]

everyones busy trying to get with the people they like while pandora and peter have platonic dates and write fanfiction about them all.

[oh-phoenixx]

hc that regulus hates pda so much that he's always at least three feet away from james in public. even if they're around rosekiller, who are practically dry humping each other on the sofa right across from them, regulus won't even hold james's hand.

this leads people to believe that reg just doesn't like physical intimacy in any way. the pairing confuses sirius especially because james is such a clingy person and regulus is averse to physical touch. james is making heart eyes at regulus from across the great hall for all to see while regulus ignores him.

but when they're alone? regulus needs every inch of his body to be touching james's, he needs to be lying on top of him, hands under his boyfriend's shirt because how dare cloth get in the way of james's skin? you will never catch them in the act, but regulus is the clingiest motherfucker alive. my guy is a yearner. he craves love so much, he's so touch starved, but he has been for years so he can control himself in front of others. in private regulus is even more cuddly than james

[trrrip13]

“Jegulus doesn’t make sense.” Yeah, no kidding. That kind of love? Nobody’s that in love. It’s like reading Shakespeare on steroids. Good for them, I guess, but I refuse to believe people actually feel things that deeply without spontaneously busting into flames.

[siriuscollar]

james potter the type to shrug of physical injuries (broken bones, broken rips, …), but act like it’s his last day on earth when a mild cold hits him

[etherealily]

ɪᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴛʏ // ᴊᴀᴍᴇꜱ ᴘᴏᴛᴛᴇʀ

As you can probably tell from stalking my main, I started off as a marauders account and I think it's time to go back to my roots.

Other fics of mine. If you have the time.

James Potter + fem!reader. Cuss words. Not proofread.

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

He holds me in his big arms, drunk and I am seeing stars, this is what I think of.

Desc. : A lot can happen in a single night.

────────────────────♫ ·‼️· ♫──────────────────

James is pretty sure he's had enough of Valentine's Day talk for one lifetime. Being unable to go to what was essentially his spot in front of the alcove by the Lake because some other couple was sticking their tongues down each others' throats was diabolically infuriating, and he had to actually hold back a gag as he rolled his eyes and sped back into the castle.

It wasn't even the same month as Valentine's Day, but evidently, everyone was in the mood.

See, since couples were going to be separated for Christmas and New Years the next morning (a whole week, oh, the horror!), the Seventh Years decided to throw a party to commemorate their 'love'. James gave each and every one of them another three weeks, tops.

Tops, because he was pretty sure a girl in his year had chosen between two blokes on the literal flip of a coin.

With his mate Remus being a prefect on duty, Peter being home, and Sirius finally being able to visit his estranged cousin Andromeda since he'd just been newly disowned, and James' parents not being at home for him to go back home to, he was missing both Christmas and one of the best fucking parties thrown by his senior batch.

Just as well, he'd probably gag and throw up whatever Firewhiskey he'd down at the rager anyway.

Roaming through the Hogwarts grounds when it'd just gone midnight was risky, even for him, but he couldn't go to a party while his mate was stuck mentoring some newly-appointed Fifth Year Prefect. It's bad form. So, waiting for Remus to finish up his duties while roaming the corridors, it was.

And then he saw you. The bloody bane of his existence, with your glinting Ravenclaw Prefect badge, and your stupid hair all moonlit, as if you were taunting him. 'Oh, I'm so perfect, with my Slug Club, and my grades and my ability to get every guy so madly fucking in love with me'. Ugh, he could almost hear you. It had probably immensely enthralled you to reject Peter back in third year. God, what a bint.

The thing about James was that, sure, on paper, he was top-choice for Slughorn. Well-connected, son of Fleamont bloody Potter, good at Potions, rich. He should've been a shoo-in to the stupid Club, and he nearly was. But that was on paper. With the unfortunate fact that James' hatred for Severus was a school-wide knowledge, and the Slug Club was the only, only aspect of life where Severus was more influential than him, it would be devastating to Slughorn to have them both in the Club. Slughorn was basically cutting his losses.

So, yeah, he was seeing fucking red. Vivid, vibrant, in-your-face, horned-guy-with-a-pitchfork-red. It made no goddamn sense for you to be doing anything but what you were doing- prefect duties - but James' disdain for you made that somehow be infuriating.

Fuck, was he ready to shoot you.

He really had to get a fucking grip. Perhaps on your throat. Throttle you to death. Ugh. What would that even achieve? Nothing but a murder charge, or if he got away with it, memorials dedicated to you, a constant reminder of your smug little presence, perhaps your ghost floating through Hogwarts, badmouthing him. He didn't need that.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

The first thing he'd ever actually said to you.

"Draught of Wrath.", you replied, sparing him nothing but a momentary glance over your shoulder, before your gaze flew back to the two doves who were currently engrossed in a mini-war, all squawks and feathers. "Go back to bed, Potter, or I'll reduce points."

"That's not in our fucking textbook.", he spat, ignoring your order.

"Special project."

"You just do your own side-quests in Prefect time? And Slughorn lets you?"

"Well, he gave this recipe to me as a challenge, so I'm sure he isn't opposed. And you're the only idiot up tonight, so go back to bed."

"Fucking recipe.", he grumbled, snatching it up from the ledge you'd propped it on and straightening it out to squint at it in the moonlight. "You have no antidote?"

"I've halved the quantities so that the effects wear out far earlier."

"How do you keep them from attacking the rest of us?"

"Muffliato potion. Plus, initially, Obscuro charm before I cast a cloaking charm over this pillar. That's why the doves can't see us."

"You realise this is cruelty, right? Animal cruelty?"

"They're not real doves, I conjured them up, too."

"Yes, but they're really there."

"But they're not actual doves, though."

"You really want to go into Wizarding Ethics? Because—"

"You know what, perhaps you should go work on the general assignment. I'll allow you in the library if you just leave me alone."

He nearly actually throttled you. The audacity!

"Fuck off, alright, with your condescension.", he hissed. "Absolute cunt."

If you were offended, you didn't look it. "Do you always curse?"

"Do I always — yeah, why? Don't fucking tell me you're going to go all holier-than-thou."

"No, I'm just asking."

"Why?"

You shrugged. "If I brew you the antidote, you would be more chill."

"What is this? Is it the, what? Is it the fact that you're a girl that's got you so smug, and so sure that I won't hex you into fucking oblivion? Or is it 'cause you're part of the elite Slug Club or whatever?"

You furrowed your brows at that, gently uncorking the antidote and allowing the fumes to permeate through the little bubble you'd created with the doves. "What? Hey, I'm just saying, you seem to be holding in a lot of pent-up anger, so, I thought I'd help."

"Oh, yeah, you're a fucking angel, aren't you?!", he yelled, and it echoed throughout the desolate corridor some fifteen times, and you glared. "You just bought yourself a month of detention."

He mimicked you in a high pitch voice, rolling his eyes.

"How juvenile."

"How bitchy.", he retorted.

There was a silence as he watched you examine the remnants of your bottles of potion before gently placing them into the loops inside your tiny satchel.

His brows furrowed. "Did you just say there's a Muffliato potion?"

"Yeah, of course. Almost all spells can be replicated as potions."

"Could I get some of that?"

"Why? So the stupid V-Day party can use it and everyone can scream as loud as they want without wakin' any teachers?"

He chose not to answer that. You'd just mock him for missing the biggest party of the bloody year.

"Yeah, charms aren't strong enough. C'mon, it'll help you when you finish your shift and come join us anyway. Me and Moony."

"Remus? He hates the Seventh Years, same as me. Him at their party? It'll be as funny to see as dropping a ballpoint pen in the middle of here and having everyone gawk at it, wondering what the hell it is."

"You have an odd sense of humour."

Unfortunately for him, you were the only Prefect (besides Remus) who knew he was out of bed past lights-out. Which was, uh... sad. To say the least, because he had to now stick by you so that he didn't run into any others. He'd have figured, with pushing you to the party, he could tag along and that would be a valid excuse to give to Remus as well, but you didn't want to go. Ugh.

"Come on, you look miserable, and you look like you'd fit right in with the V-Day party's, like... ambience, or whatever. It's awful. Isn't there another Ravenclaw prefect to handle your work?"

"He's wildly incompetent."

"Wow. Harsh."

"It's true, though."

"Listen, the other prefects would've found any late-night stragglers by now, wouldn't they have? It's not a rule that they can only punish people of their own house, yeah? Probably Moony's found the lot of them. So come to the party. Your misery's actually giving me a migraine."

"Shut up. Shoo. Try not to get caught by someone else.", you shot back, now setting up what Professor Sinistra had taught all of you a couple days ago was a moonlight-collector.

He had forgotten that there even was an assignment.

"How did you get the lens thing? She said it was only available at Hogsmeade!"

"That's not true. The textbook says convex lens, so I borrowed a monocle."

He was about to throw you into the Lake, trust. What a fuckin' swot! The assignment wasn't due for another three weeks! Ugh.

"From where?", he asked, offhandedly, with zero interest in the answer.

You shook your head. "Can't tell you that." Fine by him.

Fuck.", you mumbled, trying to change up the setup for the angle that would result in the perfect proportion of moonbeams to liquefy but no, apparently it would just not work. Packing up, you angrily stuffed everything into your satchel again. Apparently you'd just have to sneak into the Astronomy Tower.

"The party's this way.", he mumbled, scratching at the back of his head to snap himself out of the conversation so that he could go back to watching the moon and waiting for Remus.

"'M not going."

"Why not?"

"I have shite to do!"

"Where are you doing your 'shite you have to do', then?"

"Astronomy Tower, where else?"

Fuck, he was going to regret this. "Can I come with?"

Your eyes were ripped from the night sky in front of you back to him, glistening with amusement. "What? Why?"

He licked his lips. "You're the only prefect that knows I'm out and you don't care enough to give me detention, so I figure I should stick around with you."

Your mouth agape with a barely-suppressed snicker, you began following him after he angrily shouldered past you. Fuck it all to hell.

The winding staircases led the two of you - and your Lumos-emitting wand - up the Astronomy Tower, where some losers were sat, bloody snogging. It's not bloody VALENTINE'S DAY! He wanted to scream.

"Ugh. Never mind.", he grumbled, turning immediately around before the image was etched into his brain, but you put a hand on his chest.

"What are you doing?!", he hissed, watching you gesture at him to stay hidden as you climbed the last couple steps, clearing your throat. The couple scrambled to get up. "Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, yeah? Minus points. Get back in bed, now!"

Oh, yeah, prefect-privileges!

He stayed glued to the wall as the couple raced down the stairs past him, muttering about 'fuckfuckfuck, she saw our faces!'. Ooh, a clandestine affair, it seemed. How he wished he could find out more!

But no. You'd barked at a couple people just so he could get some immunity tonight, even though it was common knowledge he thought you were gum under his shoe, so he should at least respect that.

He's always thought you were annoying, with your attitude that you were better than everyone just 'cause you were a teacher's pet, but honestly, he'd also always thought that was an incredibly brave thing to do, especially seeing as you could get endlessly bullied for it.

Bravery, as a Gryffindor, was something James admired.

Lord knows without your stubbornness, Sirius may have got into much more trouble than just detention. He'd heard of this Muggle thing called a "spliff" from one of the Slytherins once, and had gone absolutely feral, to try it out. Thankfully, you knew enough about Muggle things to put a stop to that.

"You're being oddly nice.", he remarked, maintaining a safe distance in case your plan was to bring him up here, slit his throat, and then throw him off the tower in the name of defamation.

"I just took a couple points off your house."

"So... we're even?", he inquired, with narrowed eyes. No. There had to be a catch.

"Not even close. I told Slughorn not to give you detention.", you informed, offhandedly, as you kneeled down and unfastened the clasp on your satchel, bringing out your moonlight-liquefying equipment.

Oh. Yeah. This morning, he'd taunted Severus and you - Slug Club members, ew - for having finished brewing first. Taunting wouldn't have resulted in much, but he had tripped Snivellus over and caused him to crash into about three other peoples' cauldrons.

Your fault, he'd argue. Usually, it was you and James brewing together, and if you'd been there with him, you wouldn't have finished early and been chatting to Snivellus about fuck-all, basically bragging and rubbing it in James' face.

No, you and James would have tolerated each other for at least one Potions hour, as you always did.

So, it was your fault that James was pissed that you weren't seated next to him and— alright, maybe his argument wasn't the most sound.

"Yeah, I know. He didn't follow up."

He, in fact, didn't know that's why he hadn't followed up. He'd chalked it up to his charm and Slughorn's distate for punishing Purebloods.

"Yeah. I figured you were just curious how Snape and I finished that fast. And I didn't mean to provoke you, or anything."

Ugh. Fuck it all to absolute purgatory. You'd made him sound like a sore loser. Like he gave a toss about yours and Severus' Potions prowess. "Hey."

"What?"

"Sorry. For the 'cunt' thing."

"What cunt thing?"

"When I called you one?"

"Oh. Yeah, no, it's alright."

"I wish I could go to the party.", he groaned, pouting exaggeratedly in hopes of at least getting a chortle out of you. Maybe another 'get back to bed'. But you just nodded.

"Yeah. Looks fun."

He tilted his head. "You and I are going to the party, then."

This was now more self-indulgent than anything. He had to see you drunk. Seriously. It's quite literally on his list of things to see before he graduates. Number four, right before McGonagall high on catnip and right after Snape being tossed into the Great Lake.

"No. You go, I won't tell."

Almost instantaneously, his eyes narrowed. "You won't?"

"No?"

Too fishy for him. "Why not?"

"Figure you should enjoy the party, since you're out already, and you wanted to go home these holidays anyway."

"How do you know that?"

"You were only moping about it in every class the entirety of last week. 'My parents won't be home, so I have to stay at Hogwarts this Christmas, ugh!' Set my bloody teeth on edge."

He really couldn't argue with that.

"Don't you want to come?"

"No, not particularly.", you replied, biting your cheek as your textbook hit the floor with a thud, and you brought your lit-wand over it.

"Well, I need immunity!"

"Too bad, Potter."

There. He was seeing red once again.

He let you underline a line in the textbook, before he began on his bullshit again. "Are there times that there are absolutely no out-of-bed-delinquents, and you lot have the entire castle empty to yourselves?"

You shrugged, biting your lip as you tried your hardest to get the telescope to budge with a squeak. "Yeah, usually it's around the holidays, like right now. I stay back at Hogwarts, usually, so it's often pretty calm at night."

"Mm. I see. Y'know what I'd do, if I were a Prefect with an empty school?", he teased, purposely dragging out his words and pairing them with a cheeky simper.

"Pull pranks even though no one's here, because you and your stupid 'Marauder' gang is absolutely unemployed in every sense of the word?"

"Sod off. That's Snivellus talking. No, I'd just run around, screaming, singing at the top of my lungs."

You snorted, one eye squinting as you looked through the telescope, positioning it just so, using it as your convex lens (kind of genius, actually. He'd have liked to have thought of that). "Yeah, go ahead. I feel like you're forgettin' that it's desolate of students, not teachers."

He grumbled. Right. His fantasies deflated almost instantaneou— hang on! "Didn't you say there was a Muffliato potion?"

Nodding, you continued uncorking your flask to collect the moonbeams, placing it perfectly in front of the telescope. "Yeah, so wh— no. Don't even fucking think abo—"

"I want to run around the castle, have my own party. What's wrong with that?!"

"Muffliato potion overdose? Running around, getting injured? You getting in trouble? Me getting in trouble for providing you with th—"

He scoffed, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his own tiny flask. "I've got Firewhiskey."

"Are you intent on giving me reasons to give you more detention?! I thought you wanted immunity!"

James didn't reply, and you pointed at him in a very authority-figure-like-manner. "Get that shite out of my face, and go back to bed."

"C'mon, just mix a tiny bit, and we'll call it even, alright?"

"Even?!", you hissed. "You owe me more, if we're keeping score."

"Well, we're not! I'm just saying, I'll leave you alone! Won't tell anyone you're doing basically everything but Prefect-ing!", he retorted, gesturing wildly at your equipment.

"Are you blackmailing me?!"

His mind fought off the 'Sirius-Black-mailing' joke, while he shrugged, impassively. "Maybe."

"You're a right... prick!"

"Been called worse."

"But never better, right?"

He rolled his eyes, making grab-hands for the tiny bottle of Muffliato potion, that you held out of his reach. "What?"

"I'm not givin' you my whole stash!", you scoffed, snatching his flask from him and gently pouring about a quarter of the potion in, with total concentration. He watched you, the background filled with no sound but the occasional rustle of breeze and the tinkly sounds of liquid transferring.

"There."

"That's it?"

"What'd you expect? A fireworks show?"

"No, I just... never mind. You don't want any? So when you yell at me, I won't be able to hear it?" He proffered the flask.

"If we drink from the same batch, we'll still be able to hear each other. Other people just can't hear us.", you informed, as though he were an absolute dimwit, shoving the potion bottle back in. Was it too late to throw you off the railing? "Now go and yell and do whatever. I need to concentrate. Besides. I'm not gettin' drunk on the job."

"It's already a very dilute amount of whisky. The potion'll just dilute it further. C'mon, take a bit. It'd help you not be caught by Filch or someone here, anyway."

"Why would I be caught? I don't have the indiscretion of a 'Marauder'.", you mocked.

"Say our name like that one more time—"

"And what?"

He scoffed. "Fine, don't come with me. You probably have shite music taste anyway."

"Oh, please. You probably only know Wizard music. Like the Odd Brothers."

"What, like Muggle music is better?!"

"Yes, it is!"

He threw his hands up. "Show me, then."

"What, now?"

"Yeah, now! Show me! You know there was that recent petition by the Muggle-borns to have a record player in the music room so they didn't get homesick, yeah? So go ahead, show me!"

"Fine!", you spat, yanking the flask from his hand and downing half of it in one go. "You'll never bloody insult Queen in front of me."

"I didn't say anything about the Queen! Hey! Hey, don't go making me out to be unpatriotic! Sure, I may be anti-monarchy, bu—"

"Oh, do shut up!"

He clenched his jaw but didn't say anything. Didn't want to push it, you see?

He gulped down the other half of it.

────────────────────♫ ·‼️· ♫──────────────────

"Now, then. Play this insanely amazing Muggle music of yours.", he muttered, arms crossed tightly across his chest as he leaned against the closed door of the music room.

Some people were silly drunks. Some were affectionate.

Evidently the two of you were aggressive-music-fanatic-drunks.

"Wait, 'm looking.", you murmured, your fingers dancing across the tops of the tiny collection of vinyls seated safely in a shelf on the wall. "Ah-ha!"

James rolled his eyes. "Do you have to be such a caricature? A bloody nerd, who says 'ah-ha!'?", he asked, plopping himself down on a piano bench.

"As opposed to the rich pretty boy who's miffed that he can't get into an elite club based on talent and intellectualism because he's used to being given things on a silver platter?"

He couldn't even scoff, you were so on the mark. "Shut up."

"Lovely expansion of vocabulary."

"Alright, you know wh—"

"I can dim the lights and sing you songs full of sad things, we can do the tango, just for two..."

The record spun around almost dizzyingly. God, Muggle stuff would never fail to fascinate him.

"I can serenade and gently play on your heart strings, be a Valentino, just for you..."

"Now's the best bit, now's the best bit, shut up!", you screeched softly, and he nodded, eyes fixed on the floor as he concentrated his ears on the record.

"Ooh, love, ooh, lover boy, whatcha doin' tonight?"

He hated the fact that you were bobbing your head, because in his firsthand, personal experience, that meant you had heaps more dancing you wanted to do. And so, against his better judgement, he stood up.

"Set my alarm, turn on my charm, that's because I'm a good old-fashioned lover boy.", you sang, and he giggled.

Yes. James Potter fucking giggled over a girl he fucking complains about every bloody night.

Kill him now.

"Ooh, she's got moves.", he remarked with a toothy grin, watching you twirl and sway and basically make this whole night so much better in the most magically Muggle way possible.

And then abruptly...

The whisky began hitting both of you.

How did he know that?

Because he seized your wrist and began to twirl you. And then you let him.

Yeah, he was genuinely going to have the absolute fucking mick taken out of him if this got out. Oh, my god, Sirius! Ugh, if he found out... no, even Sirius was alright. Remus would haunt him about this in the afterlife, he just knew it.

"You've got very Muggle moves, mate."

"Yeah? That's a thing, then, is it? Wizard moves vs Muggle moves?", he asked, laughing deeply as your back thudded against his chest after his fourth try at turning you smoothly. "This isn't working."

"Yeah, because you're a sore loser! Please, as if the Odd Brothers could hold a candle to Queen!"

"Ooh, let me feel your heartbeat grow faster, faster."

The music room rang with the sounds of your laughs, breaths intertwined, feet shuffling, squeals and scratches of the vinyl, and of course, his jumbled-up attempts at singing along to a song he had never heard before. Why? Because he's James Potter.

"Ooh!", cooed James, attempting (and failing horrendously) at mimicking the effortless 'oohs' of the song, making you giggle, now.

"That's pathetic, if you don't know the song, don't sing!"

He feigned offence, gaping with a hand on his chest, while the other underarm-twirled you a couple more times. "And what's he talkin' about, 'long, hot, summer nights'? It's winter!"

"Well, yeah, but the song was recorded ages ago."

"It's not even time-accurate."

"Wizard songs change according to the situation you're in, yeah, for sure, but not Muggle songs."

"Wait...", he began, tilting his head as he rested his arms on the small of your back. "They just stay the same?"

"Well, yeah. Our pictures don't move, either."

"What?!", he spluttered.

"Yeah."

"Why's that?!"

"Our pictures, our songs... we want to capture that perfect moment forever. In a picture. In a song, or a poem, or even a painting. But it has to be that moment."

"So, 'long, hot, summer night' was when... this... good old-fashioned lover boy met you? I mean, y'know, the listeners of the song."

"Yeah, I suppose."

"And... is there really a 'good old-fashioned school for loverboys?'", he whispered, conspiratorially, because if there was, he'd assume it'd be top-secret.

You mumbled back, "I can't say."

Pulling back to glare at your face, he raised a brow, and then, the both of you burst into fits of laughter. "God, I need more Firewhiskey."

"Do you have more?"

"No."

"Well, y'know where we could get some, though?", you asked, and something in his gut told him that was rhetorical.

────────────────────♫ ·‼️· ♫──────────────────

This was barmy. Psychotic. Absolutely demented, deranged, insane, nutty and any other synonyms that eluded his mind!

How had waiting around for Remus to finish prefect-duties so that they could maybe get into the biggest party of the year turn into him helping his Potions-partner sneak into Professor Slughorn's private quarters to nick some sherry? He could replay the night over and over, and he'd still probably never understand.

"Did you hear that?", he hissed.

"Shut up, let me concentrate!"

Precariously lifting the smallest but heaviest bottle from off the tray and trying not to make so much as a clink, you grimaced as you made each excruciatingly slow move, and that nearly sent him doubling over with laughter.

And he really should've watched his step, because down fell a cane, onto the ground with a thwack.

"Fuck!", you yelled, your eyes wide as you looked at him— he had to steady you, lest the glass fall and shatter.

You seemed to have forgotten that you were on Muffliato-potion, and your yells wouldn't be heard.

Even though you were the best at Potions, you panicked.

And then, it hit him.

You weren't a caricature, you really had never done this before, the sneaking about, the mischief.

"C'mere.", he hissed, and you complied, because what the fuck else could you do? At least he could attempt to charm his way out, like he always did, and lower the sentence to detention, rather than expulsion. God. This is what you'd come to. Relying on James Potter's bullshit skills to save your academic future.

Surprisingly, his hand crammed into his pocket, and you half expected him to pull out one of those dungbombs he and his stupid gang of 'Marauders' liked to throw around, but instead, he pulled out a tiny bundle of cloth.

Well, seemingly tiny. Until he removed the bow and unravelled it. And unravelled it. And unravelled, and unravelled, and unravelled. And then, there, brimming over his hands was a shimmery velvet cloak.

"What, are you going to throw this at his face and make a break for it?!"

"Get under it!", he instructed, dragging you to another side of the room and under the cloak just as the lights came on.

An INVISIBILITY CLOAK?! This absolute— oh, everything made sense now! Oh!

"Come out! Come out, I say!"

Slughorn's half-asleep voice was nearly as annoying as his normal voice. James had learnt to control his breathing under the cloak, but he knew that you hadn't, obviously, so his palm was clamped over your mouth. And though he remembered the Muffliato-potion, it was clear you still didn't, by the way you were biting your tongue as if your breaths would give him away. Fine by him. He didn't need you talking.

And, in all honesty, he was terrified your guilt would overtake you and you'd run out from under the cloak, fall at Slughorn's feet and confess, begging to stay in the Slug Club.

"Come out now or face the consequences!"

James jerked his head towards the door, beginning to take slow sidesteps that you fell in tune with. Before you knew it, you were out the door, which slammed and caused Slughorn to mutter : "Oh, bloody drafts!"

And then, you ran.

Where, why, how, you don't know, all that you two knew was that it was fast. Sprinting through the chilly winter night, past paintings that were ready to curse your whole bloodline for the disturbance of air, but couldn't see you or hear you, past Filch's cat who could also feel you two but not see you or hear your footsteps? Heaven on earth.

Somehow, you two managed to have the drunken stamina to make it back to the Astronomy Tower, chuckling and gasping and holding up the bottle of sherry in the glinting moonlight like a championship trophy.

"We are fucking crazy!"

"Absolute loons!", he agreed, nodding as he took the bottle from you, taking desperate swigs. "Salud, Prefect!"

"Cheers, Marauder!"

He collapsed onto the floor of the Astronomy Tower, hands over his stomach as he gazed up at the moon, seeming right at his nose thanks to the Firewhiskey and the sherry.

Unconsciously, he began humming that stupidly phenomenal Muggle song you'd introduced him to.

"I told you. Muggle songs are just... better.", you called, from somewhere across the floor.

"Shut up.", he grumbled, grunting as he shuffled up onto his elbows to get a better look at you, leaning your elbows behind you on the railing, wind in your hair, the sparkling night sky as your backdrop.

It felt wrong to not examine this magnificence up close.

He scrambled up, continuing to hum.

"'S growin' on you, I can tell.", you grinned, with a playfully snail-paced punch to his cheek as you turned around to watch the stars.

He groaned, catching your hand mid-air and turning it over in his palm. "Are you never lettin' me live this down?", he questioned, wrapping his arm across the expanse of your collarbone and gently wrenching you closer to him, chin now settling nicely on your shoulder.

"Nope. I think the whole school should know how utterly enthralled you are by Freddie Mercury— hey, that's your mate!"

"What?"

"Sirius!"

Stupidly, James actually looked around for him.

Reaching up, you tugged a little on the arm around your neck, scratching at his elbow and pointing at the vast expanse of inky black nothingness and everythingness that never failed to awe him. "That's Sirius!"

"Oh, the star? How do you know?"

"I study."

"Why do you say that like I don't?"

"Because I've seen you in class. You're never focusing, either. Always zoned out. Maybe if Sirius was there, you'd at least do something.", you answered, gesturing at the star to illustrate your point.

"Well, with a know-it-all, swotty, infuriating little loser like you as a Potions partner, I really can't do much, can I?"

"Yeah, I thought of that, too, so I figured I'd partner up with Severus, who doesn't need help. That somehow made it worse, this morning. You got detention."

Because you were talking to him, you oblivious, gorgeous girl.

"He's a git. Bad news."

"Who do you like besides your 'Marauder' mates?"

James paused. Good question. "Marlene."

"She's your cousin. You sort of have to."

"I tolerate Regulus?" He didn't like this conversation. He was a social butterfly who was quite often asked how many girls wanted him, or how many people wanted him at their parties, but never how many people out of his devoted fanclub he actually liked.

He could practically see his metaphorical circle actually shrink in his mind's eye and he didn't like it.

You pointed at the Sirius star again. "That is your favourite person in the world, and Regulus is his brother, so yeah, I'd wager you'd tolerate him. But I mean 'like'."

Okay, he needed to shut you up, but he was all out of sherry.

"And what about you? We both know the only reason you're not at that party is 'cause you've no friends right now, they're all at home on holiday. And you're alone. You'd know absolutely no one."

You scoffed. "Did I remind you to fuck off today?"

"No, maybe you should do it, I was sort of starting to miss it."

"Fuck off."

"Ooh, sexy, say it again."

You gagged. "Bleh. Get off me." He laughed as he pulled you closer against his chest, muscles basically covering your mouth now, humming again. "I can't bloody get it out of my head."

"Does that to ya, yeah.", you replied, muffled.

"Which one's Sirius again?"

"That one. The brightest one."

"That's ironic."

"Oh, you beat me to it, I was about to say that."

He laughed, swaying you slightly against the railings. "So. Noticed you've not mentioned my Cloak.", he began, cocking his head so he could get a view of your face.

"What's to mention? It just explains how you lot rarely get caught."

"And? You're not going to try confiscating it?"

"You know I could, right?"

"Yeah."

"You know why I'm not, right?"

"Please say 'cause you're in love with me."

He already knew it was the other reason.

You smirked at him, and he'd swear he's never seen anything more lovely and more sinister in his entire life. "You're evil."

"Whenever I want. Noon or midnight. Rain, hail or shine, legal or illegal reasons. Access. I don't care if you're writing bloody mock-NEWTS. I call, you come with the Cloak."

"Well, I have a counter-condition."

"You're blackmailing my blackmail? With what?"

"Well, we've got your classic theft.", he said, thumbing back at the empty bottle of sherry lying by the satchel you'd abandoned a couple hours ago. "And that can be proven by Veritaserum, and it will be used, because this is theft from a Professor." He counted on another finger before continuing. "And then, y'know, not Prefect-ing. Knowing about a party but just not reporting it."

"What about you? Owning an Invisibility Cloak? Having whisky on school grounds and supplying a minor with it and convincing her to steal more?"

Uh-oh. Impasse. "Alright, so we've both got shite on each other. Are we even?"

"Cloak whenever I want. I'll send a note, and you need to give it to me."

"Immunity whenever I want. I use you as an alibi and you need to cover for me."

You shook on it.

"Teach me another Muggle song.", he murmured against your temple. Alright, the drunk excuse was hanging by a thread. There was no reason, sober or otherwise, for him to be this close to you, this intimate, this... boyfriend-y.

"Mm... there's this one I really like. It's called All Shook Up."

"Alright?"

"It starts off so depressing."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. The first, first line is just... 'Well, bless my soul, what's wrong with me?' !"

He doubled over in laughter then. Not particularly because this random Muggle singer's lyricism was bonkers, but because it was you. You were laughing. So, he was, too.

And you two giggled and giggled because the sherry hit perfectly into your brains.

"Show me Regulus' star."

It was funny, you spent the next five minutes showing him Regulus, Sirius (he'd forgotten), Bellatrix, Alphard, and whatever other Black family members he could remember, and when he ran out of those, his fingers dug gently into the flesh of your arm that was extended right in front of his face, as you were pointing. He used that grip to haul you right where he wanted you. Against his chest. Against his lips.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Prefect."

"It's the 23rd of December, you absolute tosser!", you exclaimed, shoving him back by the chest.

Harsh, but fair.

Clandestine affairs had always enthralled you, but it was really not a good look for you, of all people, to be having one with a pureblood Gryffindor, known for his impressive detention record and asshole-streak, and it definitely would not do his amazing reputation any favours by him being this addicted to snogging you, a goody-two-shoes, stickler-for-the-rules-except-when-with-him, pretentious bookworm that everyone in Gryffindor house knew (thought) he hated.

Yeah, not your finest moments, either of you.

"I think we should stop."

His heart nearly stopped at that. Fuck.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Why? There's no valid reason to."

"Is there a valid reason to continue?"

He rolled his eyes. "I know you overwork yourself, but I do hope you're familiar with the concept of having a good time. You are, aren't you?"

Yanking you right back, he cupped your face in his hands. "Fine, then, look down at my wristwatch. It's nearly Christmas Eve."

"So?"

"Come on. You're supposed to be the swot here. Us gettin' along is a Christmas miracle, isn't it? Just like your eyes in the starlight.", he grinned, dimples popping up as though to second his statement and help convince you to snog the life out of him.

You rolled your eyes, and he cocked his head, resting his elbows on the railing and his chin in his palm, almost patronisingly. "What's that?"

"What's what?"

"That. Almost looks like... no can't be! Is that... are the corners of your lips... are you... smiling?"

"Fuck off, no I'm not!"

He tapped on your nose, before pinching it to move your head from side to side. "You can steal pretty beautifully, darling, but you can't lie to save your life." You slapped him away, and he used the opportunity to grip your hands and drape them over his shoulders. "Trust me."

How had he gone six years hating you, three years jealous of you (Slug Club, ugh), and seventeen bloody years without kissing you?

He's not sure that's a survivable feat.

Maybe he's been dead all this time.

"Trust a Marauder?"

"Trust me. It's like your mate Freddie Mercury says, 'everything's alright, just hold on tight'.",he replied, mimicking the same slow-motion-punch you'd landed on his cheek earlier.

"Don't bring Mercury into this. That's not fair."

He shrugged, sighing magnanimously. "I'm a good, old-fashioned loverboy."

"Oh, please—"

"Come on, kiss me again, I'll prove it." He looked down at his watch once more. "You kiss me until midnight, and then, on Christmas Eve, if you still have reasons to hate me, then this stays within tonight. Doesn't spill over to tomorrow. Sound fair?"

"What's the catch?"

"If you feel differently, you have to tell me. Alright? No hidin' it to save your pride. Yeah?"

"Fine."

It took you a long while to agree, but he wasn't impatient, because he knew he'd win this. He'd seen it in your eyes, your smile, your skin, glowing.

Yeah, glowing was common when you find something you didn't expect. Treasure. An old journal. This.

He's sure you will lie, for a couple more days, act like he doesn't exist, especially during that annoying span of time between Christmas and New Year's, because it always makes everyone supremely miffed for no apparent reason. He knows you're going to lie and say it was the Firewhiskey-slash-sherry, and ruin the best thing ever, that both of you have accidentally stumbled upon.

But honestly, come on. It's James Potter.

What's he going to do?

Let you?

[outromoony]

Something about James Potter is that if he loves you, you'll never be unloved again.

[my-castles-crumbling]

white - jegulus - @into-the-jeggyverse - word count: 151

"Yeah, so it's in color now, but it used to just be in black and white," James explained, gesturing to the Muggle TV he'd been explaining to Regulus as they sat on the couch in the Potters' sitting room.

"A long time ago, you mean?" Regulus asked, face politely interested. James should have known it was a trick.

"Yeah, back when--"

"So, way back when you were a kid," Regulus continued, nodding in understanding, expression still carefully blank. But his eyes sparkled mischievously.

James narrowed his eyes. "No, before I was a kid, Reg, way before--"

"Like when dinosaurs existed. Because you had a pet dinosaur, right?" Regulus continued, voice smooth as silk, even as a smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth.

James scoffed. "Reg, I am one year older than you! I'm not ancient! I--"

"It's okay, Grandpa," Regulus said soothingly, patting his arm. "I know it's your naptime soon."

Seething, James crossed his arms and ignored Regulus's wide grin.

[camisadoes]

some prongsfoot doodles!! :P

(close ups below the cut!)

can u tell i have no idea how to draw a stag 😭

anyways i lowk wanna start drawing a little prongsfoot comic so um…. would anyone read that!?

also i think its important to note that i listened to the entire hamilton soundtrack while drawing this

[jamesontheoutside]

"Hi Reggie!"

"Leave me alone Potter. I'm trying to study."

"You look like you need some company."

"Get away."

"Cmon Reg, I want to get to know you."

Regulus angrily looked up at James."Well a better strategy to get know know someone would be to ask them on a date or something." James' face lit up and realization dawned on Regulus' face.

"No! No. No. I did NOT mean ask me out." James just looked at him with eyes that looked like the sun itself. Regulus held his gaze with his own- cold and steely.

"Regulus Black wou-"

"No."

"Well was was gonna ask-“

"No"

"I was gonna ask if you WONT go on a date with me and you said no!!" James said with child like glee. "What no! I will not be going on a date with you!" James made a sound like an incorrect buzzer in a game show.

"Too late! I'll pick you up at your apartment at 7pm tomorrow! Bye Reggie!" James gave him a dazzling smile before running off before Regulus could say anymore.

idk it’s a jegulus thing I thought of