#james potter oneshots

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐦𝐚 ~ 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ✧

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 𝟏.𝟕𝐤

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐮𝐩, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐮𝐦𝐛. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭 (𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫), 𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝

𝐚/𝐧: 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐠𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐜𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐟. 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐟𝐬 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬. 𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐲 𝐚𝐮!

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

You and the Marauders had been friends since your sixth year at Hogwarts. Your friendship with them began in the library one day while you were studying for a test. They had decided that you would be the victim of their prank for the day, sneaking up on you and causing your books to levitate and fly right out of the library. 

Instead of letting them feel the pride of another successful trick, you decided to get them back. After spending the night brewing a very special potion, you carefully constructed a prank on them the next day. You promised Nearly Headless Nick that you would find him some rotten roast beef in exchange for his help. At breakfast, the ghost stole an item off of each of the Marauders, causing them to chase after him. As they ran out, you slipped a bit of potion into their drinks before returning to your seat casually. 

The four boys entered the Great Hall again, out of breath from their chase through the halls. They all collapsed into their seats, downing their drinks without a second thought. 

It only took a few moments for the potion to kick in, much to your delight. They were all chatting normally, when their voices started to transform. Within a matter of seconds, their voices were high-pitched and squeaky. Thanks to you, they spent the rest of the day with highly irritating voices that no one could bear to listen to.

They were completely shocked that anyone managed to prank them back, and they highly respected you for that. Although you found them annoying at first, they quickly became some of your closest friends.

Soon after becoming friends with them, you and James began facing constant pestering from the other three: they constantly spoke of how the two of you totally liked each other, and that you’d be a great couple. Of course, both of you denied it and continued to stay friends. 

After graduation, you made sure to stay in touch with them. You would often see them multiple times a week, visiting them in their shared home or hosting them at your own. You and James had managed to deny your feelings for each other throughout seventh year and up until now. Well, until last week when he finally mustered up the courage to ask you on a date. You were shocked, but you had been hoping that he felt the same way since you had met, so you happily accepted his offer. He was equally surprised to hear you agree, but made sure to give you no time to second guess your decision. He gave you a date, time, and location, and left immediately. 

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

It was the day before your date with James, and you were spending the evening babysitting your godson, Draco. You and Narcissa met at Hogwarts, as she was a prefect when you started. Although she was much older than you, she quickly became an older sister figure, and the two of you remained close. When Draco was born, she granted you the role of being his godmother, as she trusted your good nature and believed that you’d be a better option than Bellatrix. 

Draco was only a few months old, so he didn’t require much entertainment. He had been asleep for most of the time, but you kept the bassinet right by the couch so that you could keep an eye on him. While he slept, you were spending your time reading a book.

The peaceful silence of your home was broken by a knock on your door. You stood up, placing the book down on the couch and checking on Draco to make sure that he was still asleep before heading to the door. 

You opened the door to be met with a very sad and very wet James Potter, holding a soggy bouquet of flowers while his hair dripped water onto your doormat. His glasses were also covered in droplets, so he took them off to wipe them down before putting them back on his face.

“James? What are you doing here?” You questioned, taking in his soaking wet appearance.

“What do you mean, what am I doing here? You stood me up! I waited an hour for you!” He exclaimed, folding his arms. The wet bouquet of red roses slapped against his chest, causing water to flick right onto your face.

You wiped your cheek, looking at him with a perplexed look. “Shh, lower your voice. And what are you talking about? It’s the 16th. Our date is tomorrow.”

He stood there, completely dumbfounded. “What? I thought- are you sure?”

“I’m sure. You said the 17th.”

“Oh…I am so stupid. I put the wrong date in my calendar. Uh…” He looked down at the flowers, sighing before offering them to you. “I got you these.”

You smiled, taking the dripping wet bouquet from him. “Thank you, James. You’re a sweetheart. And an idiot.”

“I know, I know. But it adds to the charm though, doesn’t it?” He grinned cockily. “Since I’m here already, can I come in? We could always just move our date to today. And to your house instead of a restaurant.”

“We can, but I don’t think you’ll want to.”

“Nonsense.” He said, stepping past you and into your house. He kicked his shoes off, pulling out his wand and using a charm on himself to dry his clothes and hair. “Why wouldn’t I want to stay- oh.” His gaze landed on the self-rocking bassinet in your living room. “Who the hell is that?”

You stifled a laugh at his question. “That’s my godson, Draco. I’m babysitting.”

“Draco as in Draco Malfoy?” He asked, lowering his voice as he walked over to the bassinet. 

“Mhm. Remember how I told you guys that Narcissa asked me to be his godmother?” You unwrapped the rose bouquet, starting to cut the stems to fit into a vase.

“Right. He has his father’s blindingly blonde hair.” He snickered to himself, settling on the couch.

As soon as he sat down, Draco woke up and immediately started to cry. You cursed, putting the scissors down to go and dry your wet hands. As you prepared to go soothe him, James picked him up. “I got him.”

“Are you sure? I can come get him.” You said, wiping your hands on the hand towel.

“Yeah, of course. Don’t worry about him.” He said, beginning to rock Draco in his arms. “Am I doing this right, though?” 

You smiled at the sight of your crazy “friend” attempting to calm a screaming baby. “Yes, that should be fine.”

Draco began to settle down, and James sighed in relief. You were so busy watching them that you had stopped paying attention to what you were doing, which resulted in you cutting your finger. You yelped in pain, looking down at your bleeding finger. “Oops.”

“What’d you do?” He asked, walking over with Draco in his arms. 

“My hand just slipped. It’s nothing.’ You said, going to the sink and running the water over it. 

He shifted his position so that he could hold Draco in one arm, taking his wand out with his free hand. “Let me see.”

You shut the water off, showing him your finger. He aimed his wand at it, using a bandaging spell to wrap it up for you.

All of the time you spent waiting for him to ask you out, combined with his kind gesture of the  flowers, soothing Draco, and tending to your finger was enough to make you want to grab his face and kiss him right then and there. 

“Why did it take you so long to ask me on a date?” You questioned, looking up at him.

“Well, I didn’t know that you wanted me to. Trust me, I wanted to, and Sirius never shut his mouth about it. I just didn’t want to ruin our friendship. If I knew you were waiting for me, I would have asked the day after you pulled that prank on us.”

“Really?” Your heart fluttered at his words.

“Of course. Have my feelings for you not been obvious this entire time?” He queried, subconsciously rubbing Draco’s back to put him back to sleep.

“I guess they have been to everyone else, but not to me. I didn’t want to risk ruining our friendship either.” You admitted.

“Well, it’s certainly ruined now, and I couldn’t be happier about it. I’ve waited a long time for this, Y/n. And I know this isn’t an ideal first date, but it doesn’t matter to me. I’m just happy to be with you.”

“Me too.” You smiled, taking Draco from him gently. “I’ll put him back down and then we can spend some time together. Will you move the bassinet into my bedroom for me?”

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

James had helped you move Draco into your bedroom before the two of you settled onto the couch together. The warmth of the fireplace was keeping the chilly weather out, and the dim glow was illuminating the room in a soft light. 

“Now that he’s asleep again, we should take advantage of our moment of freedom before he interrupts again.” James spoke, breaking the comfortable silence. “...I didn’t mean that in a suggestive way, I just meant that we can enjoy our first date in peace.” He clarified, chuckling nervously.

Before you could respond, he spoke again. “Alright, maybe I did mean it in a suggestive way.” Without hesitation, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours. Despite being so eager, he kissed you with such tenderness that you could feel heat rising in your cheeks. After a few moments, he pulled away to look into your eyes.

“I waited way too long to do that.” He stated, glancing between your eyes and your lips.

“Yeah, it’s about damn time.” You said, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into another kiss. 

The two of you spent the rest of the night sharing kisses and hushed conversations over the crackling sound of the fireplace. You ended up under a warm blanket, cuddling on the couch and basking in each other’s company. 

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

[cyripticchronicler]

Ink and Destiny - Part 2

The long-awaited date with James arrives, and you see him in a new light. But wouldn't it be crazy, to fall for your soulmate?

Masterlist

Part one Part Three Part Four

Warnings: Kissing, swearing, I think that's it if not lmk :)

A/N: Thank you for requesting a part two @lilianelena39I appreciate it sm!!

It seems as if Saturday was never going to come. Which was both a blessing and torture. You were excited to finally get to know your soulmate. But James Potter? The boy who’s been pining after Lily for years? Not to mention all the cruel pranks he’s played on people around school. So, obviously, you were a little hesitant to get to know him. 

You’ve been talking all week, never in person but rather on your skin. You’ve pointedly ignored his flirty comments whilst he pointedly ignored all my snarky comments. 

But alas, Saturday arrived. It took everything in you to get up and ready, already dreading the day ahead. But you still promised to go on that date, and you weren't going to let your crippling disgust of awkward first dates and small talk ruin your chances of getting to know your soulmate. 

So here you were, dressed in your prettiest dress as you made your way towards the lake. The sun's heat grounds you and you push your nerves to the side, taking in the shimmering lake instead. 

James told you to bring nothing, insisting that he’ll handle everything instead. You were flattered but now your hands are empty and you don’t know what to do with them. 

He’s not even here yet. Relax. 

You made sure you got here earlier so you could mentally prepare yourself. But the extra time did nothing for you when you spot James making his way towards you, grinning devilishly, picnic basket in one hand and a wrapped gift in the other. 

You smile tightly as he stops in front of you and he gives you a knowing smirk, “Miss me?” He asks and you scoff. 

“Need any help?” You ignore him, gesturing to the basket in his hand. 

He shakes his head, “No thank you, Love. Let’s move up the lake a bit.” You nod, walking beside him. The silence is awkward- for you at least- so you quickly come up with something to say. 

“How was your day?” You ask, eyes looking everywhere but him. 

“Better now that you’re here,” He grins, sending you a playful wink. You roll your eyes, stopping underneath a big tree. James deems the spot good enough and he gently places the wrapped gift and basket down. 

He pulls out a blanket and sets it down on the grass. He sits and you follow suit, making sure to keep a good distance between the two of you. 

“If a bird shits on me I’m blaming you,” You blurt, immediately wincing. Who says that? 

James just laughs, eyes playful, “I’ll try to keep the birds away from you then.” Your cheeks flush making his grin widen. 

He starts pulling everything out of the basket and you take notice of the way he brought all of your favourite food. 

Noticing your confused stare, his cheeks flush a deep red. “I may have asked Alice what food you liked.” He mutters sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. 

You melt, “That's very thoughtful. Thank you, James.” He blushes more and you have to bite back a smile. “How’s Quidditch going?” You ask, deciding to change the subject before James burns from embarrassment. 

He perks up immediately, “Really good, actually, we’ve started practising-” You try hard, really hard to focus on what he’s saying but the way he’s sitting, and the way he looks at you makes it hard to focus. 

You’re not sure what’s gotten into you. Just yesterday you were thinking about how much you don’t like him. 

“-listening?” You jump as you realise he just asked you a question. 

“Hm?” You flush, trying to act as if you werent checking him out. James sends you a knowing smile, “I asked if you wanted some butterbeer. You seem distracted, what’s on your mind?” 

You flush, “Y-yes, please. I‘m not distracted.” 

He hums like he knows you’re lying, “Cracker?” You nod. “Do you have any plans for Christmas ?” 

“No,” You respond, “My parents are travelling so they won’t be home for Christmas. Do you?”

You munch on food as he responds, “Sirius is coming home with me for Christmas but I’ll make sure to send you letters so you don’t miss me too much,” He winks and you scoff, “I won’t miss you at all, James Potter.”

He leans in closer, “Just you wait.” 

You don’t miss the way he looks at your lips, and you’re sure he doesn't miss the way you stare back at him. 

Clearing your throat, you attempt to deflect, “So you’re finally over Lily?” James freezes, finally looking back at you. 

“I was barely into her,” He responds cautiously like he doesn’t know where this conversation is going to go.

“Ask anyone in the school and they’d say that’s a lie,” You respond, chewing on a grape nervously. 

“Well, it’s not. I promise you,” When you don’t respond he sighs, “I got you a gift.” You perk up slightly, tracking his movements as he pushes the gift towards you. 

“I didn’t get you anything,” You say guiltily and he smirks in response, “That's the point.”

You roll your eyes, muttering a ‘thank you’ before ripping open the present. You gasp at the contents. “How did you know this was my favourite book?” You question, eagerly inspecting the frayed book. “And it’s signed?!” You screech. 

James laughs gently, “I have my ways. So, do you like it?”

“Do I like it? James this is amazing thank you,” You don’t think to question your actions as you fling your arms around his neck, causing him to fall forward as you pull him closer. His laugh is like honey as he returns the hug, cheeks flushed slightly. 

“I’m glad you like it. Maybe you could read it to me sometime? On our second date.” He pulls away slightly, hands holding himself up beside your head. 

“Our second date, Huh?” You grip his wrist gently, running your hand up his arm. 

“Yeah. The date where I prove to you that I have no feelings for Lily and where you read to me.”

“You know just because we’re soulmates doesn't mean we have to be together,” You’re not sure why you say it but you do. James' eyes soften like he can see in between the lines. “I’m not doing this because you’re my soulmate, I’m doing this because I like you.”

You suck in a deep breath, “Oh.”

He smiles in return, “Yeah, Oh.”

You act on impulse, pushing yourself up slightly to plant a quick peck on his lips. His grin widens and your cheeks explode. 

His eyebrows raise smugly, “So is that a yes to the second date?”

You nod shyly and he giggles- like actually giggles- and shoves his head in the crook of your neck. “It’s going to be the best second date you’ve ever been on,” He mutters against your skin 

You find yourself growing excited at the thought of a second date with James, and you bite your lip to stop your smile from growing. 

“I can’t wait,” You whisper. 

“Me too,” He whispers back.

[destourtereaux]

his #1 best friend - james f. potter x fem!reader (part 2)

read part one first!! summary: after a month of dating james, you come to discover some bizarre flutterings within your heart. the problem is, you’re sure he doesn’t feel the same way… wc: 2.1k taglist: follow @lovebirdupdates and turn on notifs!

prompts (from @novelbear): “sad…i have a blanket with all this extra room and no one to share it with.” “don’t say that, i love every minute spent with you”

a/n: it’s been so long since i've written anything! praise the winter holidays for allowing my creative juices to flow again :) also… i tried some angst in this one! it’s not great, but it’s my first time, and it was pretty fun to write. i hope you enjoy!

It had been a week since you made the unnerving discovery of your developing feelings toward your best friend. You repressed them as best you could…but it’s as they say: the heart wants what the heart wants. It was just bad luck that yours wanted James Potter, while his wanted Lily Evans.

Now, everytime the Gryffindor paid for a date, it was no longer a moment of happiness; instead, it served as more of a reminder that this was simply a deal between the two of you – nothing of substance. Worse, you knew Lily was slowly taking more of an interest in James, a fact he eagerly reported on every mealtime, a reminder of the ticking countdown on your ‘relationship’. Although you knew that whatever you two had was foundationally fake, you couldn’t help but dread the day you would have to say goodbye for good.

The next month was a big month for Gryffindor. The first official Quidditch Cup matches were about to begin, following the months of recreational play. The game was Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff, and James had been spending every waking minute with his team on the pitch. You, on the other hand, were preparing for some grueling midterm exams. The Quidditch athletes might have gotten them postponed, but you weren’t as lucky… So, while James was coaching and running drills, you were practically breathing DADA, Charms, Transfiguration and whatnot. This led to a lot of all-nighters for both of you, and only a brief, exhausted conversation before you both drifted off into sleep.

******

On the day of the big game, James was hyped. No matter how nervous he may have been on the days preceding the match, he only ever felt excitement on the day of. After one of his famous pep talks to the team, they were off.

A few moments later, James scored his first goal, welcomed by thunderous applause from the red and gold crowds in the stadium. But his mind was on one person and one person only. As he flew past the stands, his eyes searched for you instinctively, sifting through the hundreds of spectators. In fact, the action was so automatic that he never stopped to process how just a month ago, it would’ve been Lily he was looking for.

Much to James’ disappointment, you weren’t in your usual row, where he’d grown accustomed to you screaming with the crowd and smiling at him with unbridled joy. He glanced around in concern – just where were you? You usually never missed a match…

He stored a mental reminder to look for you immediately after the game, and rejoined his team.

******

You didn’t mean to miss the game. It’s just that you had been studying so hard lately, skipping meals and losing sleep in order to keep your grades up. One moment you were reading over the Potions textbook and the next, you were fast asleep, cheek pressed onto the page.

This was how James found you. Instead of joining in the festivities in the Common Room, he found himself pulling away and heading up the girls staircases. He pushed open your dorm door, hoping you were alright, and found you curled in your chair, hair strewn over the pages of your book, wearing his Quidditch jersey.

And just like that, his concern and disappointment melted away, leaving behind a warm feeling in his chest. ‘You look good in my jersey’, he thought, before covering you with a blanket and turning off the lights.

******

You woke up an hour later. You rubbed your eyes, drowsy for a second. Then, realization hit as you caught sight of the time… “Shit. I missed the game.”

Your first thought was of James, and you practically ran out of your room in a rush to find him and apologize. You hurried up the boys’ side, passing by the celebrations without a second thought. Shoving open James’ door, you find him asleep on his bed, a peaceful expression of happiness on his face.

‘I guess he must not have noticed that I was away,’ you thought, with a pang of sadness in your heart. You mumbled a quick ‘Nox’ and turned away, heading back out so as to not disturb the exhausted Gryffindor, but you’re stopped by the sound of his voice.

“Aw, leaving so soon, Y/N/N? That’s sad – I have this blanket with all this extra room and no one to share it with…” he pouts. 

Your heart leaps, and you roll your eyes at him, “you’re so cheesy, Potter.” But you climb in beside him regardless, revelling in the heat radiating off of him. “You’re like an oven – how are you this warm?”

“Maybe it’s so I can keep you close,” James jokes, still half asleep, “we all know you’re basically cold-blooded.”

You scoff, “wow, and I was going to apologize for missing the big game.”

“Y/N? Apologizing? Now that, I’ve got to see,” James laughs, and dodges the slap you try to land on his arm – curse those Quidditch reflexes. “Oh come on, Y/N/N, I’m kidding! I missed you at the game today. Seriously.”

You wince, “I know. I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I fell asleep. I was prepared for it too!” pointing at your attire.

The boy smiles, looking at the jersey you’re donning, and kisses your forehead. “I know. You look stunning, honest. It definitely threw me off to see your spot empty though. You’re my good luck charm, you know.”

Your heart jumps at these words, betraying your brain’s messages to stop believing in this - whatever this was. Your cheeks bloom with red, and you’re glad the dark of the room hides their flush. “Yeah yeah, save the lines. We all know that’s your ‘Lily flower’” you poke with a forced laugh, ignoring the pang in your chest.

To your surprise, James doesn’t join in. Instead, he pauses, as though confused, before offering up a slow smile. “Ah, but she’s not here right now, is she? Y/N, you are the only girl for me. Swear on Godric.”

You laugh awkwardly. He’s joking, you know he is. The whole of Hogwarts knows of James’ undying love for Evans, it’s like a part of him. So why is he acting as though you even hold a candle to Lily’s flame? Screw it, you think. You might as well enjoy the moment while it lasts. And so, your smile is genuine as you drift off to sleep in the Gryffindor’s warm embrace.

Hours later, Sirius and Remus head up after the party to find the two of you, fast asleep in James’ room. They sigh simultaneously, wondering why the hell you’re both so blind.

******

You were able to make it to the next game! Midterms were basically over, save History of Magic, but you already knew that was a lost cause. And so, you headed to the pitch along with the rest of the school, clamouring and cheering for Gryffindor.

You were the first face James noticed when he looked over at the crowd before the whistle. You smiled at him, and your eyes crinkled at the corners. James beamed back, so lost in thought of you that he almost got in the way of a pass between his chasers.

Your mouth forms a perfect ‘O’ of fear, but thankfully, he recovers, and the bastard even has the audacity to wink at you before flying away. What an idiot, you think, as you let out the breath you’d been holding.

******

Gryffindor won again, beating Ravenclaw, albeit narrowly. James stumbled off his broom, tackled by his team members as they formed a huge heap of cheers and joy.

As soon as he could extricate himself, he pushed himself up to find you smiling at him, a bouquet clutched in your hands.

“For you! I read somewhere that guys never receive flowers, and I found that so sad. So, here you go. Congrats on another match well played, Potter.”

James is glad his cheeks are still red from the game because it helps conceal the blush spreading like rapidfire across his face. He takes the bouquet with one hand, then pulls you into his side with the other, landing a kiss on your forehead. “Thank you, Y/L/N. This means a lot,” he whispers into your hair, amidst the whistles from his teammates.

******

Back in the Gryffindor common room, music is blasting, and everyone is in high spirits. As you climb in through the portrait hole, James asks if you’d like some punch, and heads over to get some for the both of you. You’re left with Remy and Sirius on the couch, both of them looking at you with knowing smirks.

“What?” you prompt.

“What do you mean, what?” Sirius responds, “You like James. It’s rather obvious.”

Your cheeks immediately redden, and you deny it at all costs. “As if. In case you forgot, we’re fake dating. Emphasis on fake!”

Remus chimes in at this, “In the beginning, sure, but anyone with vision can tell that it’s not an act anymore. Do you know how many pranks James has blown off to spend time with you?”

You laugh at this, “maybe James is just growing up, you guys.”

“Prongs? It’ll be another 10 years before that happens,” Sirius quips, but stops as he follows your line of sight.

There, near the punch table, is your date, talking to a certain redhead. Scratch that. He was never yours. You knew this would eventually happen, so why does it still hurt like so?

Turning away so Sirius and Rem don’t see the tears welling up, you excuse yourself immediately, ignoring their protests. Running out of the common room, you curl up on a window sill looking out at the darkening sky as the tears come rolling down.

******

It feels like an eternity has passed when you finally hear a familiar voice. The very voice you could recognize anywhere and yet wish it were not here.

“Y/N! What is going on? I came back with the punch and you were gone. Sirius and Rem are giving me the cold shoulder too?”

You quickly wipe away the tear tracks off your face, hoping you don’t look too devastated. “Did Lily finally ask you out? Is the deal done?” you smile weakly, committed to the very end.

“What are you talking abou–” James starts, but you cut him off.

“I’m happy for you, Jamie, I really am. But it hurts right now. So I would appreciate it if you could leave me alone for a day or so. I’ll get over it,” you force out, knowing the last part is a lie.

James opens his mouth again, but you lift a hand. 

“I know it was stupid of me, I mean we made a contract, for Godric’s sake! How did I still manage to mess up? I went into this knowing that every date we went on, every moment we shared would be fake. Fillers for until you could repeat those same activities with Evans. So why do I still feel so bad?” you choke out, before the tears in your throat silence you.

James winces, and pulls you into his chest, stroking your back.

“If you would just let me finish, Y/L/N! You’re so stubborn, honestly. First of all, don’t say that. I love every minute spent with you. You’re kind and brave and so incredibly funny. Don’t ever think like that again. Seriously,” he starts, “and second, I was going to say that Evans never asked me out. In fact, she was congratulating me on how good you and I were together.”

You pull away and meet his eyes, stunned. “I- what? I’m so sorry James. I guess it just didn’t work ou–”

Now it's James’ turn to interrupt. “No, Y/N/N, you still don’t get it, do you? It’s not Lily for me anymore, it’s you. She was right, you make me better. I just never realized until now.”

Your eyes widen in disbelief. James Potter, the golden boy, liked you back. Your face breaks out into the first genuine grin in hours, and you finally let yourself believe it.

Seeing this, James laughs, and steals a kiss on your cheek. “Now that you’re happy and all, how about we talk about your little spiel just now?” he prompts, waggling his eyebrows. 

You elbow him, ignoring his protests, “how about no. I think we should pretend this never happened.”

“Not gonna be that easy, Y/L/N. Weren’t you just crying over me? James teases. “Hey! Wait up!” he cries out, hurrying to catch up as you hop off the ledge and walk away.

As you near the portrait hole, he finally reaches you again, and swings an arm around you.

“So… does this mean I can kiss you now?”

“James!”

******

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[cosmal]

𝐄𝐠𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐠 — 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

day six of my christmas drabbles advent calendar

summary — james looks after you when you’re drunk on eggnog and craving a christmas kebab.

warnings/tags — fem!afab!reader, she/her, drunk!reader, mentions of throw up

James has spent the last twenty minutes looking for you.

Remus said you were in the kitchen. When you weren’t there, Alice, who was in the kitchen, had said you’d moved to the sofas with Sirius. Sirius, sat by himself on a three-seater, said you’d up and left five minutes ago.

James goes crazy searching Mary Macdonald’s house for you. Eventually, when he almost starts to panic, he finds you sitting down against the far wall in the lounge room like he hasn’t looked for you there three times. He sighs, a little annoyed, a lot relieved.

You’re giggling in your lap when he reaches you. He thinks you’re fucking adorable. “Hey, lovely,” he says, all sweet and natural, like the charmer he is.

You look up from where you’re fiddling with a ladder in your tights, right above the top of your white leg warmers. Something that James thinks are terribly cute every time you put them on.

You seem head-spun when you catch him. Then, you seem awfully happy. “Jamie!” you hiccup. It’s so cute James swears he’s dizzier than you.

Your leg warmers. Your small, tipsy hiccup. Everything about you tonight radiates everything lovely.

“Hey, cute thing.” He’s never called you that before. You wrinkle your face.

“Cute,” another hiccup, “cute thing?”

He crouches down so he’s at your level, splaying his hands over your knees, squeezing the fat there. “Yeah,” he says, “y’cute.”

You pull your legs closer to your chest and James wobbles. He stops still when you start kissing his knuckles. His hands tighten in their selfish grip and if he thought you’d bruise, he’d stop. But you’re kissing him like you really, desperately need to.

You pull your mouth away like you’re a little embarrassed and his knuckles tingle.

“You know you shouldn’t be on the floor this drunk.” He really can’t tell how drunk you are just yet, but at one of Mary MacDonald’s parties, he’s too aware of how you could be.

“You have really pretty hands,” you tell him, blinking slowly at him like you’ve never actually seen his hands before. He pretends you don’t ignore him.

“Thanks, lovely,” he says, “you smell like nutmeg.”

You snort, “You don’t know what nutmeg smells like.” You laugh because he’s terribly funny — or maybe you are.

“No,” he agrees, “but I know what eggnog smells like.”

You gasp like you’ve been caught with your hand in the biscuit tin. Your cheeky smile grows into something worse. James loves it.

“Marlene is really pervasive,” you say, suddenly stern like you’re entirely serious.

“Pervasive?” he snorts. He doesn’t mean to.

“Yeah,” you nod gleefully, disheveled hair falling in places that look annoying. He moves to tuck them away like the lovely boyfriend he is. He ignores the rumple in your face when he rubs your cheek for a little too long.

He knows, obviously being the sober one, that you mean persuasive. He truly thinks it’s adorable but his knees are starting to ache and he wants to move past it without disagreeing with a drunk you. He also wants you home, in bed, asleep and you’re makeup off. Not in that order, he knows better than that.

“Right, well,” he sniffs, standing upright so he’s above you, “tell Marlene that we appreciate the eggnog,” James doesn’t, he thinks is horrible, “but we must be going.”

You duck your head down again and James thinks you’re going to be sick. He imagines a pool of chucked up eggnog in your lap and momentarily feels sick himself. Then, you’re sighing, “God,” you throw your head back up and James thinks if you keep it up you might pass out, “I’m so fucking hungry.” You’ve moved past the persuasive talk, clearly.

“Well, if you let me help you up,” He doesn’t suggest you getting yourself up, knowing what happened the last time. The scar on your thigh an awful reminder. “I will take you to get food.” It’s cold, so cold his cheeks are a shade redder than normal, the snow hasn’t stopped all day, and he really shouldn’t, but his girlfriend is hungry. And he’s James Potter.

You look up at him, eyes and the curve of your neck glowing under the shine of the disco ball Sirius has hung up for Mary and you look the happiest you have all night. James would feel offended if he didn’t know what it feels like to be drunk and hungry.

“Really?”

He wriggles his fingers, arms outstretched to you, “Seriously.” Also feeling offended you think he wouldn’t take you to get food, would be stupid. He does though.

You reach your arms up like you might grab onto his and then they fall back down over your bent legs. “Kebabs?”

He nods, acting like he’s genuinely considering his options when kebabs have been on his mind all night, “Sounds good.”

Later that night, sitting in the best kebab diner in the whole of the UK (never argue with James or Frank about this, they’ll fight to the death) James thinks you’ve somehow gotten cuter.

The flickering LED light casts you absolutely warm, something that he swears should not make you look prettier, face shiny with grease and mayonnaise, he wants to savour this moment forever. It’s something so not Christmas, and also exactly what Christmas is about, all at once.

You’re half sober now, though your movements are still slow and sticky. Every time he watches a piece of lettuce fall onto the table below you, he grimaces, but you’re really trying your best.

Your motor spatial skills are worse than normal, he thinks with a total fondness, but he’s not one to stop you from stuffing your face when you’d told him how hungry you were the entire drive over. I’m so hungry, I could eat a donkey is what you’d told him, face pressed up against the cold window of his car. James laughed a little too much.

“Christmas kebabs are the best kebabs,” you tell him, mouth full of chicken, your eyes a little droopy. 

James agrees but his mouth is just as full. He has the soberness in him to keep his mouth shut.

“You know what’s better, though?”

“What?” he asks after he swallows.

“Christmas pudding,” you smile.

“I have some at home,” he grins, way too knowingly of what you’re about to say.

You stand, too quickly for his liking when you wobble around. “Well c’mon then, what are we waiting for?”

“You’ve barely finished your kebab!” he says, standing anyways.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Right.”

You pass out still in your full face of makeup, and fancy clothes when you get home, the thought of Christmas pudding completely gone. It takes James and hour to get you clean and back into bed.

[timhalamet]

JAMES POTTER

(no works yet)

[mushrubes]

The truth

Masterlist | Harry potter masterlist |

Requested : no

prompt 25. “I think you need to tell me the truth about how you feel towards me.” +   41. “I love how you look in my shirt.”

Pairing : James potter x (they/them) reader

Type : fluff

Word count : 358

you’re so loved !! <3

——————————–

“I love how you look in my shirt.” James said as he walked into the bathroom behind them, careful not to scare them. He placed an arm on the waist and rested his head on their shoulder. They smiled and carried on brushing their teeth, occasionally giggling as James did something stupid. They rinsed their mouth out, heading back into the room. James followed them five minutes later, smirking at them. “You should probably head out now, unless you want people to know.” he reminded as they hummed in agreement. He kissed their cheek as they grabbed their stuff before slipping out, going to their dorm to get changed and go for breakfast.

They waited for Lily and Marlene before going down, careful to wear a turtleneck, just in case there was a mark on their neck they didn’t see. They sat down at the table, picking out their food and eating, having a conversation every now and then. Y/n shared a look with James as the Marauders walked in, being their usual obnoxious selves. They cleared their throat as the boys came over sitting with them. “Can we not have one peaceful day without you bothering us?” Lily groaned as James sat next to Y/n, placing his hand on their thigh. “Nice to see you this morning too, Evans. At least we know someone wants us here, right Y/n?” James said smugly, earning a smirk and an eye roll from them who pretended not to care. “Absolutely not, Potter. Especially you, you’re the most annoying.” they responded, finishing their food as James finished up his. 

“I think you need to tell me the truth about how you feel towards me.” he whispered into their ear, Y/n standing up and grabbing his hand, dragging him out of the hall. The rest of the marauders cheered while the girls looked a mix of shocked and disappointment. Once they were out of sight, they smashed their lips against his, James’s smirking into the kiss. They pulled apart, panting and trying to catch their breath. Y/n smirked, combing their hands through his hair, smoothing it out. 

“Did that answer your question?”

[blueathens]

James Potter

Attention: Requests Are Closed.

M A S T E R L I S T

“Until the very end.”

B L U R B S

-COMING SOON-

I M A G I N E S

-COMING SOON-

S E R I E S

Love Taylor - Fics Inspired By Taylor Swift

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[ddejavvu]

more best friend james with no boundaries headcanons please 🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽 like sirius and remus definitely side eye the two of you but they don’t ever make it noticeable 🫢 they’re just waiting for the two of you to finally get together 😵‍💫 like james definitely rests his hands in between your thighs when he’s cold and remus is always muttering to sirius how that is definitely not best friend behaviour

Sirius and Remus stop in tandem, beat up shoes stomping to a halt in the middle of the floor. It would be comical if their gazes weren't so scrutinizing and judgmental towards you where you're curled up in James's bed.

"Are we interrupting something?" Remus raises a brow at you where you lay pressed to James's chest, his hands wrapped around your waist and tucked into the space between your thighs. He'd been griping about the chill of the air against his hands after realizing they wouldn't stay tucked into the sleeves of his sweater, so when he'd pried your thighs apart to slip his hands between them, you'd let him get his fill of your body heat.

"Jus' the most boring book I've ever read," James drawls, popping his head lazily off of the pillow to stare at his friends, "Don't even know why she reads this shit, anyways."

"I read it because I like it," You hum, used to James's disdain of your more 'boring' (read: not dangerous, reckless, or foolish) hobbies, "But I'm more curious as to why you read it over my shoulder, James, if it's so boring and awful."

"Not much choice," He reasons, but you both know he could shut his eyes if he wanted to be free from your novel, and you squeeze your thighs together in hopes of pressing his hands painfully together as a reprimand.

James makes a sort of stunted groan as his knuckles scrape painfully together, but when you release your grip, he doesn't pull away. He merely settles his head back against the pillow, eyes sneakily roving over the page you're reading.

"Remus, a word." Sirius grabs the man by his right scarred hand, tugging him towards the closet. They disappear inside together, and when the door shuts behind them, and Sirius manages to swat the sleeve of his leather jacket out of his face, he stares at Remus with wide, urgent eyes.

"Did you see that?" Sirius gawps, as if maybe Remus hadn't noticed James's hands resting inches from your core, "That is not normal friend behavior?"

"I bet two galleons they kiss within the month," Remus wagers with a smirk on his face, and the expression is contagious where it transfers to Sirius right away.

"Within the week," Sirius solidifies his stance, holding a hand out for Remus to shake, "You've got a deal, Moony."

--

The moment the closet door shuts behind Remus and Sirius, you crane your neck to look backwards at James.

"They're not even trying to hide it anymore," You breathe, keeping your voice low so that the two boys can't hear you, "What do you think they're doing in there?"

"Kissing, probably," James snorts, "Pulling someone into a closet by the hand is not normal friend behavior."

"When are they just gonna give it up?" You scoff, twisting back around to resume reading, "They're so obvious."

"Dunno, love." James hums, leaning forwards to press a kiss to your shoulder where your tank top has slid off of the skin there. He readjusts his hands between your thighs, nestling them imperceptibly closer to your heated core, "Some people are just oblivious."

[mymoony444]

regulus: what the fuck james!

james: watch your language

regulus: oh my bad good sir, whom the sexual intercourse

*sirius listening proudly*

[ninety-two-bees]

when james and regulus get married, they don’t tell anyone.

they’re both rich and pretentious and a bit snobby, so everyone expects them to have a massively expensive and well-planned ceremony. and initially, that’s what they were going to do.

and then one night they’re lying in bed together, and james turns over and says “let’s get married in the morning” and regulus, without missing a beat, says “okay.”

they get dressed up and head to the courthouse, recite their vows in a private room and sign the necessary papers, and then they go home. they cook and drink wine and have their first dance in their kitchen, illuminated by the golden glow of the setting sun, and it’s all perfect.

it’s all they need, and they don’t have to wait any longer for their forever.

[moonstruckme]

James being a big bear of a boyfriend and always just like lifting u up so easily to hug and sit on his lap and even tho u hate when anyone else does it he’s so BEEFY that you’re fine with him doing it

Yessssss I'm not much of a physical touch person irl but James I would allow

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 847 words

Sirius is trying to follow Remus’ example and focus on the puzzle, but his eyes keep flitting up to you worriedly. You’ve monopolized the couch, laying flat with a hand cast over your eyes and your mouth pinched in obvious discomfort. He’d tried rubbing your calf and Remus had offered you tea, but they’d both given up when the attention only seemed to worsen your mood. Remus suggested they work on the puzzle while you rest (not Sirius’ favorite activity, but forced upon him because it keeps him quiet) and now they’re both simply trying not incur your wrath. 

“Quit looking at me,” you growl without opening your eyes. 

In Sirius’ case, not doing a very good job. 

“Fine, sheesh,” he says, and you press your lips together like you’re restraining yourself from snapping at him. 

You cringe when the door opens, every line of you pulling taut. James is all smiles as he tosses his gym bag to the floor with a heavy thump. “Hello, my loves!” His voice is a decibel short of booming, but it softens when he sees you on the couch. “Oh, sorry, is she napping?” 

Remus shakes his head, lips pursed as he watches your hand tighten over your eyes. “Headache,” he explains quietly. 

“Oh, I’m sorry lovie.” James reroutes from the kitchen, heading for you. Sirius tenses. “How bad is it?” 

“Prongs,” Sirius whispers urgently, “don’t—”

But James has already lifted you, one hand under your knees and another supporting your back as he moves you smoothly from your chosen position of rest and into his lap. He makes it look like nothing, which is the first offense (Sirius isn’t sure which of you he’s more jealous of), but the second is that you let him. Sirius and Remus have both looked up in alarm, waiting for a biting protest that doesn’t come. Instead, you remove your hand from your face, burying in it James’ brawny shoulder instead. 

“Bad,” you grumble, but your tone lacks the venom you’d spat at Sirius a moment before. 

James coos like he’s got a kitten in his lap instead of a viper, bringing his considerable arms around you. His palm cups the back of your neck, kneading gently at the tensed muscles there. “Where does it hurt, darling?” 

“Everywhere.” 

“By your eyes?” 

“No.” 

He hums, brows furrowing as he works steadily at your neck. You’ve gone nearly lax in his arms, trusting him to hold you up as you slump against his front. “Have you been drinking water?” 

“It’s not that.” Some of the irritation is back in your tone, Sirius notices, but it’s been markedly softened for James. “I had tons of water this morning.” 

“Probably a tension headache then, yeah?” He looks to Remus, who nods. The quiet boy looks as dumbstruck as Sirius feels. 

James moves his grip to your sides and lifts you again, rearranging his legs to get more comfortable before placing you back in his lap. He places a hand on each side of your head, thumbs pushing into your temples and rubbing in slow, soothing circles. You begin to look like you might fall asleep.

“This is so unfair,” Sirius hisses to Remus. 

“He has a power,” Remus admits weakly, “which transcends understanding.” 

“Do you want some tea?” James murmurs to you after a while. Sirius’ eyes have gotten stuck watching the movement of his forearms, and he snaps them reluctantly back up. 

You hum, uncertain but definitely considering it. Behind you, Remus throws up his hands. James sees him and smiles, shoulders shaking with quiet laughter. 

“I’m getting the sense this isn’t the first cup you’ve been offered,” he says, looking immensely entertained. 

You sigh, but even that sounds pleasurable as his big thumbs drill diligently into your temples. “Yeah, but I just wanted to be left alone.” 

Remus and Sirius exchange a look. You seem perfectly fine with company now. 

“Don’t be silly,” James chides lightly, “a warm drink will make you feel better. Remus, love, would you be so kind as to make her a cup?” 

“Sure.” His voice is gruff, but then you murmur a quiet thanks, Rem and Sirius actually sees the moment his heart turns to mush. “No problem,” he says, softer now. 

“Attagirl.” James’ hand drops to give your shoulder a squeeze, his bicep flexing slightly with the movement. Christ, Sirius might have to fake a headache later, if this is the sort of treatment those receive. “Drink your tea and then we’ll get you to bed, yeah? You can sleep the rest of this off.” 

“You know, I offered to carry her to bed earlier,” Sirius says, still slightly bitter, “and she told me very clearly to fuck off.” 

You don’t sound so much exasperated now as exhausted. “Siri, when you carrying me doesn’t involve setting me down every five steps for a break, then we’ll talk.” 

James’ laugh surprises both of you, and he apologizes hastily for jostling you, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before resuming his ministrations. You don’t seem all that upset about it.

[sumsumstrashbin]

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐧 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐳𝐞 ~ 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ✧

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 𝟖𝟓𝟎

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝, 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐲?

𝐚/𝐧: 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

The sound of leaves crunched beneath your feet as the breeze flowed through your hair. It was a brisk autumn day in the town you resided in, and the market was bustling with wizarding families picking out pumpkins and other goodies. 

You walked hand in hand with James, your partner of five years, and husband of one. He swung your hands together as you walked, chatting about your surroundings. 

“Care for a candy apple, love?” He asked, approaching one of the booths. 

“Sure.” You smiled, letting go of his hand to let him pay.

He held it out to you, waiting for you to take it. As you reached out to take it, he yanked it out of reach. “Excuse me, miss, you owe me some form of payment for this.” He quipped. “A kiss would be sufficient, I suppose.”

You rolled your eyes, giving him a peck on the lips. He then handed the apple to you, taking his compact 35mm film camera out of his pocket. “Smile.”

You held the apple up, giving him your best smile as he snapped the photo. 

“That’s going to turn out lovely.” He grinned, putting the camera back in his pocket. 

You had become very familiar with his camera, as he had a habit of snapping candid photos of you whenever he thought you looked too gorgeous to not be photographed. Despite magical cameras being readily available, he was quite fond of his muggle camera, capturing still photographs rather than the more common moving photos. He also liked bringing the camera into the bedroom, as he couldn’t resist taking a photo or two of you in rather compromising situations. He always kept two photos of you in his wallet: his favourite photo of you during your years at Hogwarts, and one more intimate photo of you that he tucked away behind the other one for “safe keeping”. 

The two of you spent most of the afternoon in the market, and he ensured to spoil you with anything that you may have glanced at for even a second. You ended up at a jewellery booth, admiring a beautiful locket on display. You decided against buying it, as you were content with the things James had already bought for you, so you put it back down and walked off. You quickly realised that James wasn’t following you, so you looked back, only to see him jogging after you.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise you weren’t following me.” You said, taking his hand. You felt something cool and metallic inside of his palm, and he looked down at you with a grin. He placed the object into your hand, while you watched him, confused. When you opened your hand, you found the locket.

“James, you shouldn’t have. It was expensive, and you’ve already bought me enough stuff.”

“I couldn’t resist. It’ll look so beautiful on you. Let me put it on for you.” He took it, stepping behind you to put it on your neck. His minty breath fanned against the back of your neck, and the cool metal of the locket against your skin sent chills through your body. No matter how long you were together, he still managed to give you butterflies. He pressed a loving kiss to the side of your neck before turning you around to have a look at the necklace.

“Thank you. It’s beautiful.” You smiled up at him, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Hold on, I need to get another picture. Stand right there.”

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

On the way back to your home, the two of you walked through a quiet park, full of the gorgeous colours of autumn. A rustling sound came from a pile of leaves under a tree, breaking the silence.

“What was that?” You queried, looking over to the source of the sound. 

“Probably just the wind.” James answered.

The rustle was heard again, causing him to turn towards the leaf pile as well. Just as he was about to speak, a small black cat emerged from the leaves, looking at the two of you.

You dropped to your knees, calling it over. “Oh my goodness, what a cutie! Come here!”

“Y/n, I don’t know if calling a random stray cat over is a good idea.” He said, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“Nonsense. It’s just a baby.” You said, watching as the cat slowly approached you. You allowed it to sniff your hand, before it began rubbing its face all over you for pets. 

“Can we keep it, James? Please? It has no collar, and it’s so cute!” You smiled, scratching the cat’s head.

“You know I’m more of a dog person, Y/n.”

“I know, but look how adorable it is! How could you say no to this little face?”

James sighed, knowing it would break your heart if he said no.

“Fine.”

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

The rest of the evening was spent cuddled up on the couch by the fireplace with James, and your new addition to the family curled up on your lap.

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

[cyripticchronicler]

Quidditch Confessions - James Potter

My first fanfiction!! sorry it's kinda bad I'm really tired </3

In celebration of Gryfindoor winning the quidditch match, James takes his girlfriend on a ride around the school.

Warnings: Kissing

Masterlist

The cheers of the crowd are deafening as the commentator announces the winner of the quidditch game. Gryffindor, of course. I scream just as loudly as the others, a grin plastered on my face. Everyone scrambles to reach the field, eager to be the first to congratulate the team and I follow suit, gripping Lily’s hand tightly so we don’t get trampled. 

We finally reach the field and push our way through the bustling crowd. I perk up when I spot James talking to Sirius, a grin spread across his face. As though he can feel my stare he looks up, green eyes meeting mine. Ignoring everyone else, he makes his way through the crowd, people parting like the Dead Sea. 

He doesn’t waste a second in lifting me off my feet and twirling me around. I laugh shyly, not used to this kind of attention and wrap my arms around his neck. He puts me down, arms wrapped around my waist and I have to bite my lip to stop my smile from growing. 

“Congratulations, Baby,” I muttered, giving him a peck on the cheek. James scowls playfully, cheeks flushed from the cold. “You missed.”

My eyes widen and my cheeks flush. Without letting myself think for too long, I stand up on my tip toes and give him a quick peck on the lips. 

Everyone heads inside for the after-party and I go to follow but get pulled back by James. “You coming, James?” Sirius asks. James shakes his head, “Not tonight. Have fun.” Sirius raises a questionable brow but leaves it at that, following the rest of the crowd inside. 

Then it’s just us, the sun going down leaving a beautiful sunset. “Fly with me?” He asks and my eyes widen. 

“I have a fear of heights,” I state. 

He nudges his nose against my cheek, “I know but you’ll be holding onto me the whole time. Nothing to be afraid of.” Sensing I’m still unsure he flashes his best puppy dog eyes, “Please.” 

I sigh, giving in, “Okay.” James wastes no time in grabbing his broom and hopping on. I clumsily hop on behind him, arms wrapped tightly around his waist. 

Ever so slowly we get higher, and my eyes squeeze shut, head falling against his back. James’s laugh is croaky against my chest, “You can’t appreciate the sunset if your eyes are shut, dummy.” I scowl against his back, but hesitantly raise my head anyway, taking in the view. 

The wind blows my hair across my face and I’m thankful James can’t see how crazy I look right now. 

I don’t look down, instead focusing on the boy in front of me and how pretty the sky looks tonight. Warm reds and pinks paint the sky, clouds shimmering in the distance. The wind blows James’s hair back, his grin wide. His happiness relaxes me and I loosen my arms around his waist ever so slightly. 

“I’m proud of you,” I mutter against his shoulder, thinking back to how he caught the snitch, movements calculated and agile. 

“Thank you, Baby,” His voice is watery like he’s on the verge of tears, “You don’t know how much that means to me.”

I smile but it drops when I notice we’re going higher, nearing the roof of Hogwarts. “James?” I squeak, arms wrapped tightly around him again.

He laughs, patting my hand gently, “Don’t worry, I got you.” 

I shake my head, “No, no, no Jame-” I cut myself off with a scream, blood rushing to my head and eyes squeezing shut as James aims the broom towards the ground, hooting in laughter. 

The ground gets closer and I ready for impact, hiding my head in James’s neck- The broom jerks up at the last minute causing my stomach to twist. Not shortly after, James lands safely on the ground. 

I hop off immediately, not wanting to spend any longer on that death stick. I hear James try to control his snickers behind me and walk off. 

“Okay, okay,” He grabs my arm, turning me and pulling me against his chest, “I’m sorry that was mean.” 

“I hate you,” I say, though I sink my hands in his hair and massage slowly, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. 

“You love me,” He corrects and I smile slightly. 

“I guess I do.” His chest shakes as he laughs, “I guess I love you too.” 

I nod my head, “Duh.”

His eyes flicker to my lips and I lean in, moaning softly when his lips touch mine. His tongue swipes across my bottom lip gently and I open my mouth. The kiss is slow and gentle, his hand holding my jaw as my own pulls slightly at his hair, enticing a moan from my mouth. 

He pulls away, breathing heavily and rests his forehead against mine. 

“I’m going to marry you someday,” He whispers. 

I smile softly, “I count on it.”

[livinginshambles]

I thought you'd be different | James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Slytherin!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: A cinderella story (maybe a little romeo and juliet while we're at it) but Hogwarts - Enemies-ish to lovers. You find an enchanted parchment through wich you anonymously talk to a stranger (James). When you meet him at the Yule ball, he is not who you expected, but you give him a chance. When you realise that was clearly a mistake, you flee cinderella style.

Probably part one of two again.

Notes: Not proofread, grammar mistakes. Discrimination issues, themes of bullying. Regulus is our friend. James is an idiot, but we knew that already. Sirius sucks.

Masterlist. Part two. Part three

--------------------------------

You could still remember the moment vividly, as if it was engraved in your memory. That moment when the sorting hat placed you in Slytherin instead of Gryffindor like your two older sisters had been sorted. You could still see the look of surprise, concern, horror and then eventually disgust, every time you close your eyes.

“Now we finally know your true colors,” is what your sister Alyssa had hissed coldly at you. You had pleadingly looked at your other sister, but Marla had supported her twin sister, disregarding the confused and scared look in your eleven-year-old eyes.

“Don’t talk to us, don’t look at us and don’t mention us at all,” she sneered down at you and for a moment you wondered how she hadn’t been the one to be sorted into Slytherin instead. But you had cast your eyes down and agreed.

But years passed and you had become the very stereotype of a Slytherin student, completely leaning into the cold, distant, quiet but calculating persona that your sisters had created for you. Might as well, you figured after your parent’s dismay at the revelation of your house.

You were making your way down the corridor, long strides as you passed your sisters while looking them straight in the eye. They grimaced at the sight of you, but without their entire group of classmates, they didn’t dare make any comments. A feeling of victory erupted inside of you, and you couldn’t help the small smirk that crept up your face.

“What poor soul suffered for you to look so satisfied?” You turned your head to look at the person who called out to you. James Potter and Sirius Black were both leaning against a statue in the open yard. “Did you get rid of Regulus or something?” Sirius taunted. “Finally had enough of him following you around, did you L/N?”

“Go die in a ditch, Sirius,” you retorted with an eye roll, but seemed unphased.

“Why so much hostility,” James unpleasantly remarked, and you halted in your step. “10 points from Gryffindor for loitering,” you pettily decided.

“If you have nothing to do, other than insulting students, I would love to recommend you to Professor McGonagall for detention. Heard she was still looking for the person who made all the pumpkins explode last week during Halloween, and you guys are terrible at getting rid of the evidence.” With a last glance up and down, you continued your way towards the room of requirement.

When you entered the sober room with a sigh, you noticed the small scrolled up piece of parchment in the middle of the room. You frowned. This was your space. The room didn’t open this space for anyone else, you made it specifically as a safe haven.

You cautiously approached the parchment and rolled it open to reveal nothing. It was completely blank. You shrugged. If the room left this here, it was meant for you, and so you took a seat and started drawing on it.

James sat in an empty room, his invisibility cloak hiding him from plain sight as he pulled the now folded paper from his back pocket. He inspected it closely, almost pressing the paper to his glasses in a curious manner. He had gone to the Room of Requirements earlier that day and found a piece of paper floating in the air.

James unfolded the paper, and his eyebrows flew up. Lines were appearing on the paper by itself, and a beautiful portrait of a weeping willow with a girl, crying on a bench under the tree appeared.

James fumbled to find his quill and ink. Then he started to write something on it, in a handwriting that he only ever used for written exams. Credits to Professor McGonagall, who had announced that she would not be grading anything she couldn’t read. And she had looked over her glasses at him while she said it.

It’s beautiful.

You dropped the parchment at the words that formed right under your drawing. You traced it with your fingers. Then you decided to write back.

Thank you, I’ve been dreaming about this for the past two days.

You frowned at yourself, unsure why you would disclose such information, but figured no one would be able to trace this back to you anyway.

James blinked at the response he got, mouth open in surprise. He wasn’t sure why he was so surprised. It must simply be a spell of some sort after all. He stared at the sad drawing and the sentence, and then he made up his mind, writing back.

It must be lonely for that girl to cry by herself under the weeping willow.

Your eyes followed the words that formed in a trance.

If she ever feels lonely again, she can always pour her heart out on this parchment. I’ll be the mighty guardian wizard that will make all her worries magically disappear.

A grateful smile made its way up your face and when you scribbled back a response, James couldn’t help but smile as well.

Maybe she will.

You doodled a wizard sitting on the bench next to the crying girl, a consoling hand stretched out.

That's how you became James’ best kept secret. He learned that you were indeed a student at Hogwarts, but that you felt lonely. That you enjoyed butterbeer, but never got to enjoy it on a Hogsmeade outing with friends, because you rarely had any. He learned that you felt inferior to your siblings and a disappointment to your parents. He noticed how you would draw a circle as the dot on your ‘i’ and learned, when he asked, that you did that because you had once seen Professor McGonagall do that when you were in your first year, and had practiced mimicking her handwriting, should it ever come in handy.

In return, he had told you that he felt pressured by the reputation that he had to maintain. He loved Quidditch and absolutely despised Ancient Runes, to which you had replied, “who doesn’t?”. He told you that he had illegally learned to become an Animagus, a stag, and that he wasn’t sure yet what the future would hold for him. He even revealed to you that he desperately wants to protect his friends and sometimes had nightmares, which usually resulted in a sneak around the castle at midnight. When you had asked him if he’d ever been caught, he responded with, “never”, and had explained to you that he had an invisibility cloak.

Two months passed and before you knew it, you were explaining Transfiguration through the enchanted parchment. You did conclude from this that your pen pal was most likely in a year or two higher than yourself but decided not to comment on it. James on the other hand, was under the assumption that you must be from his year, as you managed to help him study for his exams.

But now, it was almost 12 o’clock midnight, and James chewed his lip while he looked at the parchment. He hesitated for a moment. Then he decided to ask you the one question he had been yearning to know the answer to.

Who are you?

You looked at the paper sadly, and sighed.

You’d be disappointed.

I understand if you don’t want to reveal yourself. But know that I could never be disappointed by you, Willow.

James sighed when you didn’t answer anymore. He waved away the light that emitted from the tip of his wand and took his glasses off. He went to put the parchment under his pillow as usual, when he saw the scribbling movement that he’d gotten so accustomed to.

He scrambled to grab his wand to shed light on the paper but accidentally nudged them off the nightstand and onto the floor, where it rolled under his bed. James’ eyes flickered back to the paper in his hand, and he managed to catch the first letter of your name as it was written in capital letters.

But your cursive handwriting, the dark and lack of glasses made it impossible to read the rest of your name. When he finally reached his wand and put on his glasses, he heard the clock strike twelve and he cursed as he grasped the parchment tightly, hurried ‘lumos’ and saw that the parchment had reset itself to a blank page again, just as every night at 12 o’clock at midnight.

Wait, please! I didn’t catch it before it erased itself. Please write it again?

You let out a sigh in relief after you had internally bashed your head against a wall.

No, it was stupid of me. I’m glad you didn’t see it.

You leaned back into your armchair with a racing heart. You couldn’t believe you had done that.

“Regulus,” you acknowledged as you pulled the chair back to sit next to him in the library. “Y/N,” Regulus quietly responded without looking up from his book, and if you didn’t know any better, his straight face would indicate annoyance. Luckily, you did know better.

“You smile any brighter, the sorting hat will transfer you to Hufflepuff, you know,” you teased him.

His face distorted in a grimace and without missing a beat, he replied, “do kill me before such a thing occurs.” You shook your head and finally sat down. Then you pursed your lips in thought.

“You know how I’ve been working all summer to earn galleons?”

“No.”

“Well I did.”

“So it seems.”

“Anyway, I rented a small flat,” you blurted out. Regulus finally looked up at you, surprise almost evident on his face. Then again, you didn’t have the most amazing home situation either. You often opted to stay behind at Hogwarts for the holidays. It is how you two had befriended each other, especially ever since Sirius left him to his own devices at home. Parents, it was a trauma bonding thing.

“Congratulations,” he nodded, his voice trailed off as he tried to see how this would concern him.

“So I thought you might want to stay with me over the Christmas holidays? Your mother doesn’t hate me, so I thought it might be possible. Gives you a chance to get out once in a while.” You tentatively brought up the sensitive subject.

“And what makes you think living with you will be any more bearable than living in my own mansion?” Regulus snarkily remarked.

You squinted your eyes at him in a scowl. “A simple ‘no’ would suffice don’t you think?”

“Do I have to pay rent?”

“Depends on whether or not the answer impacts your decision.”

“So not then.”

You huffed.

“Fine, I suppose I could join you in your small flat.”

“Merlin, don’t go doing me any favors Reg, I wouldn’t want to owe you.”

Regulus shook his head in amusement.

Satisfied with your rather successful attempt to invite him over, you got up. The chair you sat on screeched loudly as it was being pushed back. You could feel the librarian’s furious eyes on your back and rolled your eyes at her as you made your way to the door. “Alright, alright, I’m leaving,” you waved your hand in the air and exited the room.

You made it approximately two steps when you spotted your sisters again. “Of course you would cause a disturbance in the library,” Marla spat at you. You raised your eyebrows but remained unimpressed.

“I see you’ve got your buddies to back you up now?” you commented and tilted your chin slightly upwards. Your eyes flickered to your other sister, their closest friends, and the marauders.

For a moment, you considered walking away, but there was just something about that twitching lip of your sister that had you irked.

You stepped forward, narrowing the gap between you and your sister. You leaned in slightly and then, “Boo.”

It took your other sister, Alyssa about one second to have her wand pulled out and pointed at your throat.

James watched the interaction with a small frown on his face. He didn’t really speak with the fellow Gryffindor twins, but their friends and Lily were friends, so the marauders had joined them on their way towards the courtyard.

His mind flickered to a conversation he had had with ‘Willow’ about her sisters, and he wondered if you felt the same sadness and inferiority as his pen pal. And with that in mind, he pulled Alyssa back by her robe with one harm, the other lowering her raised wand.

“Let’s not,” he shrugged, when she raised her brows in question at him.

“She clearly threatened my sister,” Alyssa defended.

You scoffed at that. “I said ‘boo’. That’s hardly a threat,” you rolled your eyes and glanced at James who tried to offer you something that resembled a smile.

Was he mocking you? “Fancy yourself a hero, don’t you, Potter.”

“Hey, I was just trying to help,” he raised his hands in defense.

“Cause you’re such a good soul,” you sarcastically remarked.

“Yeah, actually. At least better than you. That hostility is so uncalled for,” Sirius mumbled under his breath, and you shot him a glare. “Right, better than me. Let me ask the two-dozen tormented Slytherin students you’ve bullied this past year. Bet Snape will buy your self-proclaimed ‘kindness’.”

You were already walking away when Sirius opened his mouth to call something out to you, but James kicked his shins in attempt to shut him up. Your words resonated in his mind.

Maybe he was a twat.

Am I a twat?

What the bloody hell are you on about?

Someone called me a twat today. Now that wasn’t necessarily true, but the implications were there.

Did you deserve it?

Sort of.

Sort of?

I mean, I am only an asshole to people who are assholes themselves and deserve it. But I guess that makes me an asshole too.

You hesitated for a moment and decided to write your opinion on the matter.

Maybe you being an asshole to people makes them assholes. And then it becomes a vicious circle. Self-fulfilling prophecy and all that bogger.

You reckon?

Wouldn’t have written it down if I didn’t.

On a brighter note, do you have a date for the Yule ball after the exams?

If you’re asking me out, I already promised my friend that we’d go together.

Oh right. But would you save me a dance? Maybe at midnight under the main crystal chandelier?

James bit his lip again in suspense. The Yule ball is a masked ball anyways, if you don’t want to reveal yourself.

Midnight, main crystal chandelier. You decided to leave it at that. Besides. You could enchant the mask a little extra, so you’d be even more unrecognizable. You wondered who would be behind the kind words of the parchment.

It felt strange to you. Really looking forward to something to the point you could feel jitters in your stomach in anticipation. But it was having a certain effect on you that even the younger Black couldn’t help but miss.

Regulus squinted his eyes and moved his jaw in thought. When he had had enough, he pulled you aside.

“Out with it.”

You deflated. You knew that he knew what he was talking about, so you shrugged. “Someone asked me to save a dance next week,” you mumbled.

“And you want to?” Regulus’ tone shifted to an incredulous one.

“I found an enchanted parchment in the room of requirements and it’s connected. I’ve been using it to have conversations with a mystery person.”

It felt great to be able to share this with your friend and you leaned against the wall behind you. “So yeah.” You finished the confession with an awkward hand gesture.

Regulus took a moment to register what you said. And then, as if it was the most normal thing ever, he responded with, “I see. And you have no idea who?”

You let yourself slide down the wall and tiredly put your head on your propped up knees. “Probably a Gryffindor.”

Regulus started laughing. You snapped your head up and scowled at him, not that he was used to anything else from you.

“As long as it’s not a mudbl-“

You kicked his legs and made him lose his balance. You shot him a warning glance. “You know my opinion on that.”

Regulus sighed. You had once confided in him about your home situation, including that time when you had overheard your parents argue when you came home for the first time after having been sorted into Slytherin. Your father had addressed the matter as soon as you walked through the door.

“You’re no daughter of mine.” He had said with disapproval in his voice. It wasn’t meant as a figurative insult. It was a statement. Your father believed that you could simply not biologically be his daughter. The words had you avert your eyes to the floor in shame.

“My entire bloodline has been sorted into Gryffindor.” He had looked at your mother. “Your family does have Slytherins. She’s most likely the result of your affair with that muggle a decade ago. It is possible.” And just like that, he had practically disowned you.

“Okay,” Regulus relented. “We’ll see who it is next week.”

James was nervously looking around, standing partnerless in the middle of the dancefloor. He had long forgone the mask that he had chosen because it prevented him from using his glasses. He looked at the great clock just above the table with drinks and pulled a hand through his hair.

It was time, so where were you? Hopefully you hadn’t chickened out yet because he was absolutely dying to meet you.

There was just something about you. It sparked something in him that he hadn’t felt since Lily. He’d look forward to your messages all the time. Every morning, he practically jumped up in anticipation and excitement as he reached under his pillow to read your ‘good morning’ message for the day. A smile would pass his lips each time.

James was ripped from his thoughts when a hand was placed on his shoulder blade. It tapped twice. He stopped breathing for a moment before turning around. And then the breath was knocked out of both of you completely.

For two different reasons.

James stared in awe at you. You wore a white and silver dress, covered in diamonds. A delicate white mask covered the upper part of your face, and he stared intently at your eyes, but somehow, he still couldn’t pinpoint who you were.

He could see all of your features clearly, but as if he was in a dream, he somehow couldn’t piece everything together to identify you. A charm, he realized. He was disappointed but shook it off. If you felt insecure, then he wouldn’t push it.

James’ face broke out in a grin, and he stepped forward. He couldn’t help but reach out to your face. But you took a step back. His hand fell and he frowned at your reaction, suddenly scared. He wasn’t wearing a mask after all. Compared to you, he was completely vulnerable.

Before he could say anything, you cut him to it. “No,” you hoarsely managed. “This was a mistake.” You turned around and escaped from the center of the dancefloor. James chased you.

“Wait, please. I’m sorry!” He called out after you.

You slowed your pace when you reached the corner next to the staircase. Then you shook your head with a sight, and you pinched your nose. James could see your furrowed brows.

“You have nothing to be sorry about. But my intention wasn’t to dance with James Potter. It was a mistake. Sorry for wasting your time.”

James shook his head in his turn. “Don’t say that,” his eyes pleaded. “So you know who I am. Am I..” He hesitated. “Am I that bad? I don’t know if you’ve heard any rumors about me, or what made you have a bad impression of me, but I’m the one you’ve been talking to for the past months.” He looked at you desperately. “Give me a chance, please. I only ask for a dance.”

Your eyes flickered over his sad face. You knew James from all the pranks that he did, mostly committed towards your house. You knew him from the banters you had with him, and from crying students that you undid hexes for. You knew him from pushing him out of the way as he purposely blocked your path to throw insults at you.

But you also knew the boy from the enchanted paper. The one who listened to all your worries. Who offered advice and indulged into your hopes and dreams for the future. You knew the boy who confided in you all his deepest secrets and own insecurities. Who made your day and cheered you up with his jokes and positivity.

“I can give you a dance,” you caved, and you offered him your hand, which he scrambled to hold.

James was a fairly decent dance partner, you soon discovered as he guided you with grace. “So I suppose you dance often?”

“I just practiced a lot,” he sheepishly admitted. “I had to impress you somehow, you know. Someone like you had to be crazy out of my league after all.”

Your lips twitched. “I think you’ve got it all backwards, Potter.”

“You know you can call me James, right?”

“Well, James,” you enunciated his name. It felt weird on your tongue. You had only ever spoken his last name in contempt. “I’m not very liked by more than half the students of this castle.” You motioned towards your mask. “Hence the enchantment,” you added halfheartedly.

“You don’t have to tell me who you are,” James immediately assured you, and you did relax at his words. “I’m just really happy that you’re real.”

You let out a laugh. “Why would I not be real?”

“I don’t know,” James whined. “Maybe I was just talking to really sentient paper or something?”

His answer only made you laugh more. James’ grin only spread wider.

“Whoever you are, I wouldn’t judge you,” James added quietly. You watched him silently as you swayed around the room.

“That’d be a first,” you joked sadly, remembering your own family.

“What can I say, I’m just different,” James cheekily winked and then twirled you around.

“We’ll see about that, James. You have the rest of the night to convince me.”

The dance ended and you curtsied to each other, out of breath. “But you’ll have to excuse me while I go find a bench because my feet are killing me. These heels are no joke,” you groaned in pain and sort of started to limp your way back.

James quickly came to support you and held your waist as he escorted you back to the side of the room. When you discovered that there were not in fact any benches, you sat down on the first few steps of the staircase. He raised his eyebrows when you kicked off your heels and saw that the entire slipper was made of glass.

“I transfigured those shoes myself, you know,” you proudly stated. James looked at it in disbelief. “This can carry a human weight?”

“Yeah, it took a lot of different enchantments and attempts,” you admitted.

James’ disbelief changed to awe. He took a seat next to you and you two started chatting about random things. You looked at James’ profile as he talked about Quidditch and felt soft towards him. Maybe he really wasn’t so bad after all.

The two of you were deep into a conversation when you were interrupted .

“Who is this, Prongs?” Sirius curiously stepped forward and shook your hand. You couldn’t help but grimace at him.

You politely nodded and explained the situation, but even though you engaged into a civil, nonchalant conversation, you couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable at the presence of James’ friends.

“Anyways,” Sirius leans in towards James. “Did you see Snape over there?” He nodded his head towards Snape, and you squinted your eyes at the boy in front of you.

“You’re not thinking of doing anything to him, are you,” you sharply asked. Both James and Sirius were taken aback by your new tone.

“Nothing harmful,” Sirius laughed, but it faded when you simply raised your eyebrows at him. Sirius looked towards James for help. James hesitated. He had been reluctant to indulge Sirius’ ideas ever since his conversation with you about being a twat. But Sirius was his friend.

“We’re just having a bit of fun,” James tried to explain. “We’re just joking around, besides, he’s in Slytherin, so definitely a blood supremacist.” Your face fell at his words.

You watched his features contort in disgust and suddenly you were eleven again, and all you could see was your sisters disgusted face.

By the time you had snapped out of it, Sirius was already making his way towards Snape. James had gotten up and his head flickered between you and his friend.

You got up as well.

“I really thought you’d be different, James.” You scoffed to yourself. “You really had me convinced there for a moment. But I understand that you’re really just a bully after all, blinded by prejudice. You really are a twat.”

James’ heart dropped at hearing you say those words. He felt ashamed and shook his head pleadingly as he searched for words. But the thing is, you couldn’t care less, because you were hurt too. So you turned around and fled up the stairs as fast as you could, just in case he would come after you.

“Hey Prongs, you coming or not?” Sirius called out. James looked back at Sirius as he contemplated his next move. He mouthed ‘no’, and then tried to run after you. But by the time he reached the hallway that you had disappeared to, you were nowhere in sight.

In denial, James ran towards the moving staircases and looked up, in hopes to find you there.

Had he looked down, maybe he would have caught the last shimmer of reflection of the diamonds on your dress.

James refused to give up, however and he started to knock on the paintings, hoping that they could tell him where you went. He just had to apologize.

A symphony of protests and yelling echoed within the hall. “Quiet you!” “Have you no respect for the sleeping?” “I will complain to Filch about this, young man!” “Leave us alone!”

When the voices resided, most portraits were empty, their contents having escaped elsewhere.

Defeated, James groaned and hit his head with his fists. “You stupid git!” he yelled out in frustration at himself. James slouched down to sit on the stairs. Then he reached for the parchment and a pen in the inner pocket of his jacket and started scrambling something down.

“Please answer,” he whispered. He almost had to laugh at how pathetic he must look.

You sat on your bed after having made your way to the Slytherin dorms.

I’m sorry. You’re right, I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know why I said that. I’m stupid and I ruined everything. Please let me make it up to you. I enjoy being with you, I don’t want you to think of me like this.

 Like I said before, this was clearly a mistake.

James read your words over and over again and he buried his face in his hands in shame. He stayed there for a long while and by the time he returned to the room, the party was over, and people had started returning to bed. On the left side of the staircase were your enchanted glass slippers precisely where you’d kicked the off and left them.

Preview of part two

Part two

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[boneblushed]

Is it chill that you’re in my head?

synopsis your best friend James isn’t sure why he’s so angry about the fact that you’re going on a date with someone else.

wc 2.6K

“He’s looking over here,” James sings under his breath, his brown eyes full of mirth. He’s balancing on the spindly hind-legs of his library chair, the Potions essay he’s supposed to be doing laid out in disarray.

You send him a reproachful look. “You’re being malicious.” When you turn back around to face Davey Gudgeon’s table, there’s a split second of eye contact before he ducks his head down abashedly, his cheeks a brilliant rouge.

He has a crush on you, apparently. Sirius and Remus had overhead him talking about it on his way down to breakfast this morning—about how prefects rarely escaped unscathed after sharing something as intimate as a Saturday night duty.

James Potter, your best friend and a royal pain in your ass, finds this revelation abso-fucking-lutely hilarious for some reason. Asshole.

“Au contraire,” he murmurs, the grin on his face audible, “I’m being a world class wingman.”

The look on his face is downright dangerous. He waggles his eyebrows at you suggestively, unperturbed by the frown on your own, a warning. Easing forward until each hind-leg finds the ground with a resounding thud, he cups his hands around his mouth, whisper-shouting, “Oi! Gudgeon!”

Davey Gudgeon reddens further, a feat you didn’t think was possible until now. He glances over at James dismally, a furtive expression on his face. “What?” He mouthes, sending you this weak half-smile. It’s sort of sweet, almost contagious. You find yourself smiling back at him on instinct.

“Come over here, you bludger,” James chastises, like that’s the obvious next step. To be fair, it probably is to him — he’s never shied away from flirting with the girls he fancies, a self-proclaimed dating aficionado with way too much chat for his own good.

Davey hesitates, his nervous gaze flitting to you momentarily. He looks as though he wants to do just that, but isn’t sure whether his crush on you is reciprocated. Sweet.

He has gentle eyes, too, pretty juniper with bright specks of burnt ochre. A nice head of brown hair. If it was cold outside, you bet he’d offer you his Quidditch jersey without hesitation.

You think you need sweet, all things considered. You’ve known James Potter all of seven years now, had a wretched crush on him all of five, and never once has he indicated that his aforementioned expertise could ever extend to you.

It’s high-time that you gave your pathetic heart a rest.

“You’re making him miserable,” you mutter, ever-reproachful.

Davey hasn’t moved yet, though you’re sure he wants to, his hands braced on the table in front of him apprehensively. He keeps looking between you and James, surveying his options; in order ease his anguish, you decide you’d better make the decision for him.

You push your chair back and stand up, it’s spindly legs scraping against the vinyl floor forebodingly. James looks up in surprise. “Where r’you going?”

“To Gudgeon’s table.”

“Why?” James urges, perplexed. He half-stands too, his features a smidge less mirthful than before.

“So you’ll stop,” you reply, frowning down at him.

He raises his arms in surrender. “I’m stopping.” A pause. In the beat that passes, his assessing gaze falls over you in paces. “You’re not… you’re not keen on him too, are you?”

You think on this, cocking your head to one side. “I don’t know. Maybe? He’s kinda sweet.”

“But he doesn’t even have the balls to come over here and ask you out properly,” James whisper-shouts, mildly exasperated.

You’ve never once called him sweet.

He’s had this tragic crush on you for all of seven years, and never once has he been on the receiving end of such a fond adjective. He’d only made a fuss over this Davey situation because he was sure it was just a jibe — no way someone like you would be interested in a guy like Gudgeon, no way you would even entertain the possibility of more than friends.

Right?

James wants that more than friends thing with you, bad. This morning, when Sirius’d brought up Bludgeon’s crush on you—sniggering violently—he’d snuck a glance at your features to ensure that it wasn’t reciprocated. He’s sure he’d caught a bit of second-hand embarrassment, though maybe it was actually just tender hearted diffidence. Maybe Davey fucking Gudgeon had something that he somehow didn’t.

Right now, James’d give up his head boy badge and Quidditch captaincy to acquire that something. His chest hurts terribly. He runs his sloven fingers through his unkempt hair, sending you another look of bewilderment.

“Because you’re here,” you reprove. “Course he’s not going to come over when the James Potter is taking the mickey out of him.”

You say his name like it’s an insult. James’ heart plummets. “I’m not — he’s welcome to come over,” he argues quietly, chagrined. “Besides, he’s going to have to get used to me if he wants to be your boyfriend.”

“Why?” You frown. “I always bugger off when you’re with another girl.”

“That’s different,” James insists, frowning in tandem.

“How’s that different?”

They aren’t you, James thinks vaguely. His poor heart blunders for the umpteenth time this afternoon. “None of them are girlfriends.”

“Not for lack of trying,” you mutter. James swears he hears a hint of spite in your tone. “Doesn’t matter, anyway. M’going over.”

James slumps back into his seat reluctantly. He knows that you’re right, begrudging as that revelation may be — he is always flirting with one girl or another, though that’s more so to pass time than anything particularly serious. Never you. You’d see right through him, anyway. Besides, the last time he tried, it’d been so disastrous you’d assumed he was joking.

It’d been at that Halloween party they’d had in the Gryffindor Common Room last year, firewhiskey flowing and sweet treats piled atop every surface.

You were wearing this gorgeous, albeit bemusing, costume of a Muggle someone — Wonder Woman, or something, James didn’t quite understand it. Showing a lot of skin. Your pretty eyes were accented by rouge glitter, lips all glossy, and your exposed limbs and bare waist had eased his heart right into his throat.

And James Potter didn’t often find himself lost for words, but it appeared as though this party was one of those exceptions.

“Woah,” he’d murmured, wolf-whistling lowly. He was in this ridiculous, Babbity Rabbity costume (courtesy of Sirius, who was a cackling pot), feeling entirely out of place when you looked so beautiful. “Christ, Y/N, who’re you meant to be? The hottest muggleborn at Hogwarts or something?”

You’d rolled your eyes then, because no way he was serious. “Don’t tease, James. Did you guys manage to snag any cauldron cakes?”

He’d been too busy to insist his sincerity, fond gaze travelling down your bare limbs, slow. Lingering on the wafer of exposed waist between your corset and skirt. He’s still agonised by the want to touch your soft skin; that wretched Hogwarts shirt tuck has prevented this from happening.

“By the fire,” he’d answered after a beat, dazed.

And when you’d fallen out of earshot, James’ eyes still trained on your figure, Sirius and Remus’d come up behind him, the latter wearing Muggle-manufactured fangs. (Supposedly, he was meant to be a vampire.)

“You’ve got a tragic affliction, James,” Sirius’d tutted under his breath, faux-apologetic. “How’re you somehow able to flirt with every girl in this room except the one that matters?”

“Shut up,” he’d muttered back at the time, though as he thinks back on it now, he realises that Sirius was right.

For some reason, with you, he always manages to say exactly the wrong thing. He watches Davey scramble to straighten as you near his library table, the heat on his neck rising until his entire face is in a flush. And you’re smiling as you sit down beside him, this sweet, unabashed smile that looks too much like feelings reciprocated. Something in James’ ribcage cracks, an ugly emotion springing forth from within it. But he’s immobile, hands on the table and furrow in his brow, agonised by the fact that you’re looking at Davy all fond, not him.

Never him. You ask a question—James is trying his best to lip-read, but it’s difficult not to get carried away staring at your mouth. Davey nods, and then reddens some more. Then you stand up, feelings-reciprocated smile on your face as you walk back over to the table you’re sharing with James.

“He looks pleased,” James mutters grumpily.

You frown. “You don’t.”

“You’re doing charity work,” he answers, ignoring the insinuation. “You know that, right?”

“James,” you sigh, “you’re being unkind.”

“Because he’s punching.” But James knows this is unfair. He’s pretty sure every bloke in Hogwarts would be, if it was you and them.

—

“James,” Sirius calls, bemused. “You coming mate?”

Its autumn in Hogsmeade, and they’ve reached a cross roads.

The path to the left of them leads to the Hog’s Head Inn, one of their favourite haunts in the village due to its relative unpopularity. To the right, where James is glancing furtively, the cobblestone pavement takes them toward the Three Broomsticks. Where you are. With Davey.

Remus shares a knowing look with Sirius. “Think he’s in the mood for one of Rosmerta’s butter-beers, actually.”

James groans, scrubbing his calloused palm down his face slovenly. He knows exactly what he’s insinuating; Remus always has been the most astute of the lot. “Don’t bloody start.”

Sirius grins then, reaching for James and throwing an arm around his neck. “Reckon you’re going to need something stronger than butter-beer if you’re planning on watching Gudgeon snog your girl.”

His heart plummets. There’s that ugly emotion again, rearing its contemptuous head at him. “Wormtail’s there too,” he tries, shoving Sirius off. “We should go say hi.”

“Oh yes,” Sirius allows, his brown eyes full of mischief. “The one Marauder with a girlfriend. You after some tips, mate?”

“Cut him some slack, Sirius,” Remus chastises, though there isn’t much fire to his tone as he says it. “Reckon he’s miserable enough about the fact that the one time he fancies a girl she isn’t interested.”

James frowns, sending the pair of them a look of determination. “Look, shove off, both of you.” The crease between his eyebrows deepens further, keenly resolute. “I just want to check on her, alright? Make sure that bludger isn’t pulling anything funny.”

“Right.” Sirius nods soberly. “Or snogging her to death.”

“Fuck,” James groans again, his insides squirming. “You’ve gotta stop putting that image in my head.”

He turns toward the path to his right, the cobblestones plush with Autumn leaves, when he spots your figure in the distance and freezes. Coming closer. You look beautiful in this matter-of-fact, effortless way that makes James’ heart stutter; your pretty eyes are alight with mirth as you catch his gaze, this fond smile on your lips that makes him want to kiss you. Bad. He swallows thickly, his chest a pathetic mess.

Sirius and Remus must spot you too, because the pair of them beginning walking backward toward the Hog’s head, their eyebrows raised in tandem.

“She isn’t with the bludger, Prongs,” calls Sirius, a knowing lilt to his tone. “Now’s your chance.”

“My chance?” James asks, distracted.

“To snog her, you idiot.”

But James doesn’t hear him. Partly because the wind’s picked up, mostly because it’s difficult for him to concentrate on anything but your growing closeness.

Once you’re within earshot—more of you to agonise over, exposed waifs of skin like a siren song—he stumbles forward clumsily.

“Y/N,” James breathes out, pleasantly surprised. “Where’s Davey?”

You grimace, looking over your shoulder furtively. “I’ve just escaped him.”

James’ stomach deflates, relief washing over him in waves. He raises his eyebrows playfully. “Escaped?”

“Don’t,” you warn, frowning sternly. “He… he’s alright, really. Just doesn’t really know how to hold a conversation.” You grimace again. “Or take a hint. Like, at all.”

“Yeah? Why’d you say that?”

“Well,” you begin, and then you shiver, moving closer to James without meaning to. “Christ, Potter, you’re a really good wind shield, y’know that?”

“At your service,” he murmurs, inching forward too. “You were saying?”

You gaze up at him, the rough planes of his face ever present, and you’re struck by the revelation that he doesn’t need an old Quidditch jersey to keep you warm. He’s a furnace of body heat and cedar-wood cologne.

“Well,” you continue, voice low, “after two butter beers and absolutely zero chat, I’d sort of assumed that he’d have realised that this just isn’t going to work.”

“But…?”

“But,” you grimace, “he asked me out again.”

The way your features twist as you say it, as though that’s the last thing you want to do, wrings any residual jealousy he may be feeling right out of his stomach. He’s struck by this suddenly, overwhelming urge to caress your jaw and pull you closer.

“And let me guess,” James murmurs, grinning fondly. “You said yes.”

“I said I’ll see.”

“I worry all this charity work’s going to be the death of you, Y/N.”

You crinkle your nose up at him, punching his chest playfully. “Don’t you start James Potter.”

James raises his arms in surrender, still grinning. His gaze lifts above your head to take in the footpath behind you, and he finds himself looking right at the burly figure of Davey Gudgeon trudging toward the pair of you.

“Bloody hell,” he mutters, raising his eyebrows. “You weren’t kidding about him not being able to take a hint, huh?”

You furrow your brow, looking over your shoulder bemusedly. When your head whips back around to face him, your eyes are wide and a little tortured, dappled by the warm, orange hues of Autumn. A damsel, James’ thinks, dazed, as if that’s a normal thought for a eighteen-year-old bloke to have. He’s already spiralling over kissing you and it’s been all of five minutes.

“Is he looking over here?” You ask, your voice low.

James’ eyes dart back to Davey. “Uh, yeah?”

“Good.”

You wrap your arms around his neck hurriedly, leaning forward and pressing your lips against his. James takes a second to recalibrate, his poor heart a mess, but when he does, he’s quick to circle your waist and pull you closer, his strong arms firm and torso warm on your figure. It’s a deft kiss, chaste as it is agonising, though kiss enough for him to memorise the feeling. The buttery taste of your lips, the perfect way they appear to mould against his.

It’s a tandem emotion — you’ve revelling in this kiss far more than you should, the arduous pressure of James’ lips on your own. He’s going to leave a mark. He tastes like sugar quills and feels like the death of you, his sloven hands pressing into the bare skin of your waist.

When you do finally pull away, your cheeks are warm and you’re a little breathless. “S’he still there?”

A beat passes. James doesn’t look up.

You mistake his pause for unease, and grimace abashedly, looking away from him. In hindsight, you aren’t sure what possessed you to kiss him like that — you want to pretend it was to stave Davey away, but your traitorous heart says otherwise.

God, you think, it was a really good kiss. If only James liked it as much as you did.

If only you knew.

“Sorry,” you add in a hurry, still grimacing. “I — I wasn’t thinking, I just didn’t want Davey to come over here and I —”

“Y/N,” James interrupts, his voice rough, gravelly around the edges. “Stop talking.”

You let out a breath. “Why?”

“I want to pretend you kissed me because you wanted to, just for one more second.”

“What?” You ask, your eyes wide. “Why?”

James thinks, isn’t it obvious? He’s still marvelling over how perfect your mouth is.

“Because,” he admits quietly, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now.”

You don’t know what to say to this. Your still chest to chest with less than an inch between your figures, and you can feel your poor heart struggling to free itself from its cage. “You have?” You say, suddenly bashful.

James nods. His pupils are a little blown, his unkempt hair a mess, and he keeps his gaze trained on your lips as though he’s being paid for it. “And listen,” he murmurs, reaching forward to thumb over them softly. “Don’t worry about Davey Gudgeon.”

“Why not, James Potter?”

“Because I’d sooner die than let that bludger bore my girl to death again.”

[northlt]

Amortentia (Jegulus)

Regulus didn’t smell. It drove James insane sometimes. 

He didn’t smell after quidditch practice, or even after just waking up. It was another one of those things about him that made him seem “perfect”. James hated it. 

Regulus was so much more than the image he presented himself to be, but he’d gotten too lost in playing the part, maybe that’s all he’d become. 

Every single “imperfection” had been driven away by his mother. Not just for Regulus, but for Sirius as well. The Black family had an image to maintain, high society they had to live in. They couldn’t accept body odor, crooked teeth, or any blemishes on their skin. 

James didn’t know how they did it. But none of the Blacks had any negative body odor. No matter how much they sweat. 

It’s not to say they don’t have a particular smell. According to Slughorn, everyone had a distinct smell, something unique about them. 

Sirius smelled like wet dog fur, James knew this because he slept in the bed next to him and every night Sirius turned to padfoot in his sleep. 

Narcissa smelled like spring, like her namesake— narcissus. Strangely intense, yet cool and floral. James had only placed the smell last year when they had grown the flower in herbology. 

Walburga black smelled like roses, James imagined that’s what the queen of hearts from Alice in Wonderland smelled like. It was suffocating if you had the displeasure to be near her, like a thousand thorny plants squeezing your windpipe. 

James wasn’t padfoot, he didn’t memorize smells. But it’s hard not to notice how his closest friends smell. It made him feel warm, to be surrounded by so many people he loves, all with a distinct smell. 

Remus smelled like chocolate, like wet fur, wooly sweaters, a warm fire and old books. James could tell that’s what Sirius was smelling in his cauldron right then. That’s the reason he was thinking so much about smells in the first place. 

Sixth year brought with it responsibilities, but also more advanced potion making. James always wondered why he didn’t drop potions when he had the chance. 

Sirius was blushing so hard, his skin tone matched the pink potion. James had to stifle his own laughter as Remus tried to go over the recipe once again to make sure they had made it correct. They were all paired up for this particular class. Sirius and Remus at one cauldron and James and Peter next to them. It used to be Sirius and James together, but after one too many pranks in the classroom, Professor Slughorn had separated them. 

“Clockwise!” Remus corrected Sirius just before he could have ruined their potion. They were the second ones to finish their potion so Slughorn was already making his way towards the boys. “Bloody hell, Sirius. Stop overmixing it”

James exchanged a look with Peter. Why had he let Sirius pick Remus while pairing up again? Oh that’s right— Wingman duties

James was nowhere near as great as Lily or Remus or even Snivellus in potion making, but he managed. Mostly he used Remus’ notes and applied common sense. It drove Remus insane sometimes, how much work he’d have to put in to memorize something, only for James to make an educated guess about it. James couldn’t really explain how he knew stuff, he just did. Call it pattern awareness, or whatever. 

“So from the way Moony was yelling at Padfoot, I’m guessing we have to stir it clockwise?” James raised an eyebrow.

Peter only snickered as he watched their other two friends bickering like an old married couple. “What’d you think Moony smells, James?”

“Wet dog” James replied easily, “And that awful old leather jacket Padfoot refuses to throw away,”

“I bet Sirius smells chocolate and wool” 

James had known Peter for years, they'd had baths together when they were babies, learned how to ride a bicycle from James’ father, spent ten christmases trying to make gingerbread houses and so many more memories. 

That’s all to say, James knew what Peter smelled like. He had a distinct cologne he swore worked wonders on the ladies, and as stereotypical as it was for the rat to love cheese, he really did. 

So if James was in love with his best mate, that’s what he would have smelled. 

But instead when he dared to take a whiff of the potion (after coughing violently because it was pretty strong), all he smelled was broom wax, old books and paint. 

“Mmmhmm” Peter grinned, “Camembert, and candy. Smells so great I’m hungry now. And you?”

“Old books” He frowned, “And paint”

“Careful, Pads might think you’re in love with Moony too”

James wasn’t sure what he was expecting. He was glad he didn’t smell lilies, relating to his old embarrassing crush. It had been months since he had obsessed over Lily Evans and even thinking about that time made him cringe. 

James had quickly realized he had no idea what love was supposed to be. He grew up watching his parents so immensely in love he’d been in love with the idea of love and the idea of Lily Evans. And ideas are dangerous things to be in love with. 

For his sake and Lily’s, he was glad he stopped liking her. 

But after Lily… well, there had been someone James had grown a liking too. And he couldn’t help the disappointment when he didn’t smell Regulus in the potion. He took a few more whiffs, just to be sure. But to no avail. The potion still smelled the same. 

James wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much. Maybe he was just incapable of loving. Because he couldn’t smell Regulus, that had to mean he wasn’t in love with the boy as he had previously thought. This was clearly a Lily situation again. And that bothered James. Mainly because he wanted to be in love. Not just because of his fantasy of being so in love with someone, but also because Regulus was so lovely. 

He was witty and sharp, beautiful and sarcastic, knowledgeable and petty, headstrong and stubborn but also sweet and funny. He seemed to positively glow under James’ praise. James loved it when he flushed pink, James loved it when he shot back a retort, when he smiled a secret smile for only James, when he dragged his long fingers over James’ skin— touch for the sake of touch. James loved every single thing about Regulus, the way his eyes crinkled when he tried to stop himself from laughing at one of James’ bad jokes, the way he sneezed, the way his lips parted, the way he tasted so sweet when they kissed, but most of all, James thought he was in love with Regulus.

He wasn’t sure what smell he was searching for. He knew Regulus didn’t smell. He didn’t have a signature smell like Peter’s cologne. But James was still disappointed. 

He wanted to make Regulus feel loved, he wanted to be in love. He had said it once and Regulus had said it before. 

Three simple words. 

And what if they were a lie?

A knock on the door made Slughorn change directions. He had been heading toward James and Peter’s potion to check it, but he walked toward the open door. 

James would have recognised those curls anywhere. 

Even before Regulus was fully visible, stepping into the doorway, eyes searching the class, James was grinning. Who cared what the stupid potion said? The potion could be wrong. Maybe James and Peter brewed it wrong. 

All that mattered was that Regulus lit up James’ world, it genuinely felt that way. Just passing him in the hallways, getting to stare at him as he stared at the stars, just listening to him talk about astronomy or his favorite paintings felt like a reward to James.

So yeah, fuck the potion. 

James Potter was in love with Regulus Black.

That’s when he spotted the paint splattered on the edges of his otherwise neat robe. He was handing a book he must have borrowed back to Slughorn. His eyes landed on James and though he tried to keep his composure in thanking the professor, James grew ecstatic at the acknowledgement.

The effect Regulus had on him really had to be studied. 

Just before he left, he sniffed the room, his eyebrows furrowing in that Regulus Black way as he mock glared at James. He had the face of an aristocrat but the mind of an artist. Maybe he was both.

James was thankful his table was the closest to the door and the others were too busy either bickering, fawning over their potion or still completing it. 

“You smell, Potter” Regulus scrunched his nose in disgust, turning to walk away, “Didn’t you shower after quidditch? It’s disgusting, it’s a wonder the whole room isn’t gagging with how strong it is, even your sandalwood perfume can’t mask it.”

James could barely say anything before Regulus had walked away. 

Paint splatter, the old books in the room of requirement and Regulus’ personal collection, the broom wax from when James had watched him polish his broom before a match against Hufflepuff. 

Slowly the pieces floated together and James thought he had started floating too. He felt light, like a floating lantern, a ball of warmth in his chest. 

And what had Regulus been talking about? James twisted his ankle his last game. Madam Pomfrey hadn’t cleared him to fly the whole week, he had been moping about not being able to play. 

When he looked at Peter, his friend was looking back with an amused look. 

“Fucking hell, Prongs”

“Don’t tell Padfoot”