Drabble: James notices Y/N’s started wearing glasses and finds himself a little bit distracted.
James, as usual, couldn’t seem to stop going on about Lily. Even on this warm, Friday afternoon, as he and his friends walk through the corridors, looking for something to do, he rambles on.
“We get it, James,” Remus chuckles, “we’ve heard this about a billion times.”
“I would say this specific spiel is more like half a billion,” Sirius chuckles, slinging his arm over James’ shoulder as he nudges him, “he has a wide range of Lily-related topics he likes to bore us with after all,” Sirius laughs.
James pushes Sirius off of him, “I’m in love ok, let me be.”
“Ever one for the dramatics, prongs,” Remus chides, laughing along with Sirius.
Peter, dragging on behind them pipes up finally, “why are we just wandering around? I’m bored.”
Looking back at the whining boy Sirius rolls his eyes, “go find something to do then. We’re not here to put on a show.”
Peter huffs and turns away, starting to lag behind the group once again.
“Hey Y/N,” he yells suddenly, running off and out into the courtyard, over to where their friend is sitting reading a textbook. They look up and smile at the boy running towards them.
James feels his jaw drop without him even realising, looking over at their friend talking to Peter, admiring them. The way their legs cross over each other, the way they run their hand through their hair to smooth it out, the way they lean back and laugh at something Peter said.
And to top it off, those glasses. Oh, those glasses. James has never seen them wear them before, but the frames sit perfectly on their nose, framing their face, and for some reason, James can’t help but stare as his mind wanders.
Not for the first time he thought about kissing Y/N, laughing as his own glasses bump theirs as they lean in, imagining those beautiful eyes looking up at him, magnified by the lenses.
He’s yanked back into reality by a hand pulling at the back of his collar, turning to see himself centimeters away from a brick wall in front of him.
“Merlin mate, watch where you’re walking.”
He can’t even focus on Sirius’s comment, all he can bring himself to do is turn back to watch Y/N talk, marveling at the way they take their glasses off and rest them on top of their head.
“Love?” James brushed his lips against your forehead as you lay against his warm chest. You hummed in response, running your fingers over his ribs. You could never imagine not loving the man who lay underneath you, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled just at you, his laughter and soft yet almost raspy morning voice.
He pressed another tender kiss to your hairline, morning light breaking through the crack in your living room curtains and illuminating his soft curls. The sofa was tight for the two of you, his arm wrapped securely around your waist as you curled into him.
“I was thinking of making breakfast-”
You cut him off with a shake of your head as you buried your face in his chest, refusing to get up quite yet.
“We have to get up at some point.”
You groaned, looking up at him as pounding filled your head. “Jamie, if you wanted me up at a decent time and in a good mood, you shouldn’t have encouraged me to do 20 shots of Firewhisky last night.”
He laughed, the sound vibrating in his chest and through you as you nestled closer. “I’ll make you breakfast.”
You pursed your lips. “Pancakes?”
“Anything for you.”
“Okay, but stay for a bit. I just want to cuddle.”
James chuckled, tightening his arms as you began to slip over the edge of the sofa. You hooked a leg between his, pressing your lips to his chest. He rested his chin on the top of your head and you huffed a sigh, wriggling your way up his body just to resolve the height difference issue.
You had a clatter in the corridor outside your apartment and rolled your eyes. Your neighbours did not know how to be quiet. James had suggested giving them a taste of their own medicine when you had discovered that your bed liked to bang against the wall, but you had just decided to ignore it in the end.
Returning your head to his shoulder, you murmured something about your love for him, eyes already drifting shut again. James brushed a strand of hair out of your face, and you could picture the soppy look on his face without even looking at him.
The door burst open with a bang, and you jolted out of James’ arms. Remus, Sirius, and Peter strode in as if they owned the place, settling down on your other sofa. You groaned.
“Oi, could you give us a moment?” James sat up, yanking on his trousers with a scowl.
You wrapped the blanket tightly around you, using it as a coverage as Sirius dragged his fingers across your mantlepiece, fiddling with the trinkets there.
Remus turned to you with a soft smile, completely ignoring your very uncomfortable lack of clothing. “How are you, Y/N? How are your parents?”
“Good, they’re good, thank you.” Your returning smile ended up coming out as more of a grimace as you shifted the blanket around to completely cover you. You had never felt quite so exposed in front of James’ friends before.
“Can you give us a moment?” James interrupted, having managed to pull his trousers on with one final huff.
Sirius scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “Well, if you had looked at the mirror at all this morning, we wouldn’t be here.”
Oh, so that’s what the muffled yelling from the other room had been.
“We’ve got news.” Peter chipped in from his seat next to Remus, fiddling with the tassels on one of your cushions. “Kingsley’s got us job interviews at the Ministry. Says it will get us straight into the field if we do well.”
“No fucking way.” James yanked a shirt over his head, arms tangling in the fabric. You laughed at your boyfriend, tucking the blanket under your arms as you got up to help him pull it on. He struggled as you tugged the fabric over his head, and you were tempted to just leave him there, completely bound and sightless. But you couldn’t bring yourself to damper his excitement like that.
“Jamie, how do you still not know how to dress yourself-”
He hushed you, tapping you lightly on the nose and laughing at your pout. You furrowed your brows, jutting out your bottom lip and he pressed a brief kiss to your lips to brush away the expression.
“Prongs, the interview’s at 10.” Sirius interrupted, and you wrinkled your nose. Was there no privacy even within your home?
James glanced at the clock, eyes widening almost comically as he caught sight of the time.
“Shit, let’s go.” He hopped around, laces in hand as he attempted to tie his shoe whilst balancing on one foot. “Y/N, love, I’ll see you later.”
You waved him off with a little laugh, leaning your head back against the sofa as your front door shut.
Y/N is crouched over the toilet in the back of the local dive bar. She’s doing her best to keep her balance but between the high heels, the alcohol she consumed and the small surface of the toilet seat, she knows it’s only a matter of time before her foot lands in something she doesn’t want to think about. She’s staring at the screen of her phone, an unknown number glaringly white against the black drop of her dial page. The girl who had been in the bathroom when she rushed in had taken one look at her face and understood the situation and offered this number, stating that it’s a group of guys from uni that are happy to offer their protection to anyone who feels unsafe after the sun goes down.
I don’t need anyone to save me,she thinks but then, her traitorous mind supplies her with images of the man who’s probably waiting for her outside the women’s bathroom. Her thumb quickly presses the green icon.
——-
“James, mate, wake up.”
With a groan, the man in questions stirs, trying to ignore his best friend. He opens one eye, attempting to focus on his surroundings but failing because of the dark and lack of glasses. “What do you want, Remus?”
The other man rolls his eyes, pulling the covers away from James’ body and ignoring the boy’s protests. “Our services are needed.”
Those words make all protests and bad mood evaporate. James sits up immediately, reaching for his glasses and slipping them on. “How long ago?”
Remus smiles at the protective tone his friend’s voice takes whenever this happens. He’s proud of how much James has grown since he’s met him at the tender age of eleven. “Not long, maybe five minutes. I’d go myself but Sirius is pretty sick and you know how he gets…” they share a knowing smirk, pictures of a sick and pouty Sirius filling their minds. “I’d ask Pete but he’s out on a date so that leaves you.”
James is out of bed before Remus finishes speaking, gathering the cleanest clothes he can find littered around his floor. “Where are they?”
“She’s at the Three Broomsticks. Her name is Y/N and she’s locked in one of the stalls of the women’s washroom.” Remus presses on their communal phone’s screen and turns it towards James, “Y/N is the one with the y/c/h and black top. The guy might still be right outside the door of the bathroom. You can either text or call her, hers is the last number that called.”
James nods, pocketing the phone and heading towards the door, “I’ll text you when I’m on my way home.”
“Be careful, Prongs.”
James grins and shoots a wink over his shoulder, “Always am, Moony!”
——-
It doesn’t take long for James to reach the dive bar. It’s nearly three thirty am but being a Friday night, he isn’t surprised to see the area in front of the entrance full of students loitering around sharing fags and laughs. He quickly enters the pub, a cloud of smoke following him and stops for a moment to shoot Y/N a text, letting her know that he’s just arrived and making his way to towards the restrooms.
Thank you so much for coming! The man I’m trying to avoid is tall and bulky and has gray hair and is plain creepy.The response comes in within seconds and James smiles despite the situation at hand. Even though he’s been doing this since his first year, he still can’t comprehend how some people are incapable of respecting someone else’s decision, making them feel so unsafe that they have to call in some stranger to rescue them. Now more than ever, James is glad that he has his act together and that his reputation as a mischievous yet good person precedes him.
It doesn’t take him long to spot the man Y/N was describing and it takes all his self control to not confront him. Ignoring the other man, James slips into the women’s washroom, making sure to lean against the door with all his weight. He hears shuffling from one of the stalls, and trying to be as reassuring as possible, he calls out for Y/N.
A few seconds later, a face pops out from one of the cubicles and James tries to smile reassuringly. Y/N eyes him wearily, “James?”
James nods, “Pleasure to meet you, Y/N. I’m here to escort you home.” He knows that at the best of times, he’s an oblivious wanker but only a blind mind wouldn’t be able to see the palpable relief on the girl’s face when she notices him there.
“Thank you so much for doing this,” Y/N says as she tries to find her footing again, having spent the last twenty-three minutes squatting while in heels makes her unsteady. James offers his hand, letting her grip it tightly as she rises to her full height. “When that girl said that there was a group of guys that always come when you call, I thought she was setting me up.”
James raises his eyebrows, eyes glancing down at their conjoined hands. Girls in these situations tend to stand a few feet away from him, at least in the beginning, still afraid that he was going to hand them over to whomever was harassing them. “Then why’d you call?”
Y/N looks in to his eyes, and James finds himself a bit breathless for some reason. “Because not all men are bad and I need to have a bit of faith in the world.”
James grins, squeezing her hand before letting go. “I’m glad you called. I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Y/N tilts her head to the side, studying him for a moment before smiling back. “I believe you.”
James’ grin grows brighter. He pushes himself off the door, “I don’t know if he’s still out there but my plan is to play the part of your boyfriend so that, even if he is still here, he’s less likely to try anything.” Y/N makes a face, one that James has seen many times before. He shrugs, grimacing. “I know. It’s bloody ridiculous that men only back off when a girl is taken. However, tonight we are going to use this to our advantage.”
Y/N nods, wringing her hands nervously in front of her, “How?”
“If you’re comfortable with it, I’m going to wrap my arm around your waist until we’re a few blocks away.”
Once again, the girl nods. She wobbles a bit as she moves towards him, and James gently grips her forearms to prevent her from falling. She gives him a sheepish smile, “I’m normally really good on heels, but between the drinks, the squatting and the adrenaline finally wearing off, these things are death traps.”
James shakes his head, smiling softly at her. “I get it, really. I’ve been so drunk I could barely stand, and I was just wearing flats.”
Y/N laughs, letting James wrap his arm around her waist and tucking her into his side. He lets her lean heavily against his body as they start walking and he gives her hip a gentle squeeze. A reminder that he’s there for her and will keep her safe. With a sigh, she reaches one hand out to open the door and wraps the other one around his waist.
The creep is still there, leaning against the wall across from the door as the two exit and Y/N feels a cold sweat break across her skin. James holds grows tighter as he drops his head so that he can whisper in her ear. “It’s going to be fine. I’ve got you.” She can feel his lips graze her ear even through her hair and the shiver that now runs down her spine is for an entirely different reason.
The man pushes himself from the wall, taking a menacing step forward but James doesn’t let it phase him. He knows what he looks like and he knows how to make himself look menacing. He stares the man down, arm still securely around Y/N but he knows that if he has to, it will take less than a second to push Y/N behind him.
“Can we help you?” James keeps his tone cheery, a fake smile on his lips but his posture and eyes let the whole room know that he is not to be messed with.
“No” is the reply and Y/N finds herself holding on tighter to James.
James’ fake smile only gets bigger, “Grand. Then if you don’t mind, my girl and I would love to be on our way.”
Without waiting for a reply, he quickly escorts the girl out of the hallway, “Keep looking ahead.” He instructs as they push through the crowded pub to get to the exit.
Y/N does as he says and when the cool night air hits her warm skin, she sighs in relief. She’s quick to steer them in the direction of the flat she shares with her friends and James, true to his words, drops the arm from her waist when they make it three blocks from the pub and there is no sign that they are being followed.
They walk in silence, each lost in their own thoughts and it feels as if only a few seconds have passed when they stop before the door of her building.
“Thank you, James,” she turns to look at him, hands wrapping around her stomach as the feelings of the evening start hitting her full force, “I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t shown up.”
He grins at her, ruffling his hair before shoving his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. It makes his chest appear larger and he doesn’t miss the way Y/N’s eyes rank his form. He feels blood rushing to his cheeks, “All in a night’s work. Save the number, although I really hope you never need it again.”
A part of him hopes that she does need, if just to see her again.
Y/N nods, placing a hand on his shoulder as she swiftly lets her lips graze his cheek. “Thank you. Have a good night, James.”
“You too, Y/N.”
James watches her enter the building before he turns around and starts the trek back towards his own flat.
——
Y/N really thought that she would never need to use James’ number again, even though she really wanted an excuse to see him again. There’s something about his reassuring presence and his smile that ties her stomach into knots. She’d love to see him again and get to know him.
Y/N tries not to dwell on the fact that it’s been well over a month and James has most likely forgotten all about her, him being a knight in shining armour and whatnot but a girl can dream. And she does. A lot. Every day. And night.
Y/N really does think she’ll never see him again when, at the end of a closing shift at the small coffee shop on campus, through the glass windows, she can see the same man from the pub hanging around. She almost regrets telling Gideon he could leave early but she knows how much studying he still needs to get done and as freaked as she is, her heart misses a beat at the thought of seeing James again.
Turning off the backroom lights and working on getting the last of the machines cleaned, she ignores the creep as best she can but when she realizes that he doesn’t seem to have any intention of leaving without confronting her, she pulls her phone from her apron and quickly dials James’ number. It only rings a few times before his voice reaches her ears, “‘Lo?”
“James? It’s Y/N.” She sighs in relief at the sound of his voice.
“Oh! Hi!” Y/N fools herself into thinking he’s equally excited to hear from her as she is to call him. “You ok?”
She hesitates only a second but he picks up on it, “Where are you?”
Her shoulders loosen and she feels tears fill her eyes, “I work at the small cafe on campus, right next to the library.”
“Lucky for you, I just got kicked out of the library because it’s closing time.” James chuckles at himself, hitching his bag higher on his shoulder as he quickens his pace. “Are there any customers or coworkers with you?”
Y/N shakes her head, “No, we closed about thirty minutes ago and I let Gid go home early.”
James speeds up, willing his legs to carry him faster, “It’s okay. I can stay on the phone with you.”
Y/N finally lets the tears fall along her cheeks, “It’s the same man as last time.”
James’ steps falter at her admission, the revelation only making him want to get there quicker, “Do you know him?”
“I’ve seen him around a few times.” She admits, moving behind the counter so she has a better view of the door. “He came to the cafe before and flirted with me and other girls but I don’t even know his name. I don’t understand why -”
“There’s nothing to understand.” James cuts her off, having to stop at a red light. He taps his foot impatiently and checks both sides before dashing across the street. “You did nothing wrong and he’s just a creep. I’m only a block or so away. Are you ready to leave?”
Y/N puts the phone on speaker and rests it on the clean surface. “Basically, yeah. I cleaned everything and I’m grabbing my stuff as we speak. All I need to do is turn off the lights and lock up.”
James smiles when he sees the coffee shop, “Grand! I can see the sign so you can go ahead and start turning everything off. I’ll be at the door when you reach it.”
“Do you mind staying on the line until I’m actually with you?” James hates how afraid she sounds. He doesn’t know her and has helped so many students throughout the years, yet something about Y/N makes him feel more protective than ever before.
“Of course not.” He’s quick to reassure her, “I’m here and I see the wanker. Come out whenever you’re ready, love.”
Y/N feels her face heat up at the pet name, and enjoys it much more than she should. Turning off the lights, she rushes towards the door, unlocking it before closing it behind her. She smiles in relief when James comes to stand right next to her, eyes narrowed at the retreating form of the man. Her hands shake as she tries to get the key into the lock and she jumps when a pair of warm hands cover hers. “Let me,” James whispers, taking the keys from her hand. He doesn’t move away from her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as he locks the door. Y/N’s shaking and she lets herself be comforted by his warmth. James turns slightly, bringing her in for a hug and Y/N grabs a fistful of his jacket as she starts crying.
“I’m sorry,” she says between sobs, “I’m not usually like this.”
James smiles sadly, rubbing her back and squeezing her tightly, “You have nothing to apologize for.”
They stand like that for a good amount of time: James with his arms around her and soothing words, Y/N with her face crushed against his shoulder as she tries to stop crying. With an arm still keeping her close to his chest, James pulls out his phone and makes a call.
Y/N can feel his chest vibrate with the words he’s speaking but she isn’t really aware of what’s being said. She trusts James. He will make sure she makes it home safely. Both his arms are around her again and she’s finally starting to relax when a car’s horn makes her jump and cling to James even harder.
James doesn’t laugh as she expects him to. He just holds on to her. “It’s just my mate Remus. He’s going to give us a lift. He’s actually the one you spoke to on the phone last time.”
Y/N keeps her face hidden against his shoulder as she mumbles “He is?”
James nods, trying to get her to walk towards the car, “Yeah. Gentle giant really.”
Y/N finally looks up and James smiles sadly at her tear-stained cheeks and puffy eyes, “Don’t let him know that I’m finally admitting this, but he’s taller than I am.”
James is rewarded with her laughter. She takes a step back, wiping her cheeks to rid any evidence of tears, “You keep saving me, I think I can keep this secret for you.”
James grins, gently taking her hand in his as he leads her towards the car idling by the curb. He opens the door for her, letting her settle before sitting beside her. He nods towards his friends in the front seats.
Remus turns around to give her a gentle smile, and if he sees the signs of her breakdown, he doesn’t acknowledge it. “Where to?”
Y/N rattles off her address, relaxing against the seat as the boys introduce themselves. None of them comment on what happened, doing their best to make her laugh and in no time at all, they’re pulling up in front of her building. Just like the previous time, James follows her to the door, patiently waiting as her shaky hands look for her keys in her bag. As she unlocks the door, James places a hand on her arm, making her turn to face him. He just smiles, reaching for his own bag.
Fuck it, he thinks as he reaches for a notepad and pen. Scribbling something on the bottom corner of the first page he opens it to, he rips it and passes it to her. She gives him a questioning look and James blushes. “It’s my personal phone number.” He explains, rubbing the back of his head, “The number you call is an old one and me and the lads take turns with it.”
Y/N smiles, pocketing his number, secretly thrilled. “And why are you giving me your personal number?”
James’ blush seems to intensify but he keeps looking her in the eyes, a lopsided smile tugging his lips upwards, “You seem to have a knack for getting yourself in trouble and well, I figured you felt comfortable enough 'round me.”
Just like last time, Y/N kisses his cheek gently, “Thank you, James.”
He nods, smiling and starts backing away, eyes still on her as she goes to enter her building. She stops when he calls out her name. She turns and sees him grinning at her, hands deep in his back pockets, “If you wanted to text or call even when you’re not in need of saving, I’d be more than happy to hear from you.”
Y/N laughs, returning his grin, “I’ll keep that in mind!”
——-
As much as they’ve been texting and speaking on the phone, Y/N and James have yet to have time for an actual date though both know that’s what they want. Even if they don’t hang out alone one-on-one, James and his friends had started coming to the cafe regularly. They’re friends now, hanging out together, studying as a group. She just wishes she could get some alone time with the guy she’s pining after. They had even taken to walking her home, as well as having her over for dinner and drinks. Y/N had never had a group of friends, always preferring to hang out with one or two friends max, but James and the lads made being around them so easy and natural.
The coffee shop is scheduled to close in an hour and most of the patrons are taking their leave as Gideon starts closing off the machinery, cleaning them in the process and Y/N starts wiping down the empty tables and taking the garbage out.
There are only four tables occupied at the moment: one with James and his friends, one with Gideon’s brother and their friends, and the other two had students finishing up a study group. As Y/N makes her rounds, warning everyone present that they’d be closing shortly, James couldn’t help but stare at her.
“Isn’t she just gorgeous?” He asks dreamily, ignoring his friends’ eye rolls.
“Just ask her out. Put us out of our misery.” Begs Sirius.
This had been the only topic of conversation for the past month and all the boys are fed up with his pining.
“It’s complicated.”
“It’s really not. You like her, she likes you. Go snog her so we can end this endless pining. ” Remus shrugs, earning himself a glare.
“You think I don’t want to?” James runs a hand through his hair, finally glancing away from Y/N. “What if you’re wrong?”
The boys burst out laughing and when James yells that it’s not that funny, tears spring from their eyes as they hunch over the table. Y/N glances their way, a confused expression on her face and James wishes that the ground would swallow him whole. He slides lower in his seat, arms crossed over his chest and cheeks in flames. He was going to get back at them.
Y/N comes by, hugging him from behind and letting her chin rest on top of his messy hair, “What’s so funny?”
James glares at his friends, kicking Sirius in the shin when he saw him open his mouth, “Nothing, love. We were just taking the piss out of James.”
Y/N’s eyes light up, “Can I join?”
James huffs, shaking his head so she’s forced to let go to not get hit, “Fuck all of you.” When he notices the look on Remus’ face, he points one finger menacingly at him, “Not a fucking word, Lupin.”
Y/N giggles, shaking her head, “As amusing as this could be, you lads have to leave. It’s closing time.”
They gather their things between laughter and shoves and as they exit the shop, Y/N hot on their heels to lock up, James turns around to kiss her cheek, “Meet you out front in thirty?”
She blushes, nodding her head, “Yeah, thanks.”
He winks at her, “My pleasure.”
——-
Y/N hates parties. She almost hates them as much as she hates her best friend that had dragged her to said party. That same friend who had promised to stick by her side yet disappeared about thirty minutes after they arrived to get dicked down.
Not that Y/N’s jealous. She isn’t. She just hates parties and she hates standing alone in a corner, sipping her non-alcoholic beverage because she promised to be designated driver. She’s almost tempted to text James, but things have been a bit weird ever since the boys had mocked him at the café the other day.
With a sigh, Y/N looks for a spot where she can sit and scroll mindlessly through her phone until her friend decides she’s ready to leave. I need new friends.She locates an empty spot on the couch when someone throws an arm around her shoulder.
A familiar voice reaches her ears and she turns to stare at James, wide-eyed and confused, “What?”
James smiles at her, though his eyes look a bit panicked, “Just pretend to be my date.”
Y/N laughs but shuffles closer to him, sliding an arm around his waist, “Can I ask why?”
James chuckles, smiling softly at her. “Because my friends are wankers and some bird won’t leave me the fuck alone.” He kisses her temple and relishes in the fact that he can act as he always wants too around her.
Y/N melts into his side, squeezing his side. “Guess it’s finally time to return the favor huh?”
James grins down at her, and he finds himself thanking his younger self for this brilliantly stupid idea of walking drunk students home. He’s about to say as much, ready to shoot his shot when the same girl he was trying to get away from suddenly appears in his line of sight.
Y/N laughs at his pout, making him glare at her, “It isn’t funny!”
Y/N kisses his cheek, enjoying the feeling of it heating up beneath her lips, “You’ve got to admit, it kind of is.”
“All of my friends are assholes.” He mutters and the girl stands in front of them, glaring at Y/N. On her part, Y/N just smiles, snuggling closer to James.
“Can we help you?” It reminds him of the first time they met: James speaking those words to the man that caused their meeting.
The girl smiles fakely, “Am I to believe that you two are together?”
Y/N makes a face, “Am I to care about what you believe?”
The girl says nothing, just eyes them both and glares at Y/N. With a roll of her eyes, she turns under James’ arm and gently places a hand on the side of his neck. James gives her a confused look but before he can ask anything, she’s raising on the tips of her toes and pressing her lips gently against his.
The moment seems to last for an eternity and when she pulls back, James feels his mouth fall open as his cheeks feel as if they’re on fire. “D-did you just k-kiss me?”
Y/N’s cheeks are not fairing much better and she bites her bottom lip, hand still on the side of his neck where she can feel his pulse racing. She nods shyly, looking into his eyes as she smiles gently, “I’ve wanted to for a long time.”
James finally snaps out of his stupor, grinning as he wraps both arms around her and spinning her around, sending her drink flying. They both laugh, and when he finally sets her down, he gently cups her face and kisses her again. And again. And again.
“I’m so glad you did,” he says a bit breathlessly.
Y/N grins, arms wrapping around his shoulders as she starts playing with hair at the nape of his neck, “Are we finally going to have our date now?”
“Name a time and place, love.” James grins and kisses her again.
James is sure that nothing will ever feel top this moment. Well, maybe their wedding day might, but that’s still awhile away.
Summary: Your daughter has been the mailman’s little helper for weeks, unbeknownst to you. You decide to take up the chance to get to know him better, after all, it would be a shame if your daughter knew the handsome man who wrote you love letters better than you did.
Contents/Warnings: Reader is referred to as ‘mummy’, mother!reader
feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!
Your fingers brushed gently against the translucent plastic covering your name on the front of the envelope. The paper tore easily, your nails scraping against the bills inside as you slit the letter open.
You let out a half-hearted ‘thank you,’ to the mailman who lingered at the door, your eyes downcast towards the letter before you could take in his appreciative smile at your words.
“See you tomorrow,” He called, boots scuffing against the steps of your front walkway.
You only hummed in agreement, and probably not loud enough for him to hear.
Your mind was completely immersed in the bills you clutched. You should have enough to make ends meet this month. Groceries would be tight, but you could cut back on Alyssa’s breakfast budget by sending her to school early this week, in time for the complimentary toast and eggs they served in her school’s cafeteria.
She didn’t mind. She never did. Really, you were grateful to have a daughter who understood you and your situation so well. Long hours, not enough pay, constant stress. She was the light of your life, and it hurt to have to brush her off for overtime hours or because you couldn’t pay for enough food, but you knew she’d understand.
“Mummy,” There she was now. Her bright yellow sneakers, dulled only by loose dirt that she’d managed to grind into the canvas fabric, pounded down the hallway as she ran up to your side, “Mummy, did I get anything in the mail today?”
“No bug,” You smiled down softly at her, your fingers raking gently through the wisps of hair that stuck out around her head, “Why, were you expecting something?”
She opened her mouth to respond, but her eyes caught sight of something behind you, and lit up in glee. You spun around as she sprinted to the door, your brows furrowing as she reached eagerly for the knob.
a/n: this is dedicated to tina because i love her and she deserves a man like james and all the domestic bliss her little heart desires
key twists in the lock and then you’re pushing the front door open, hand gripping at the doorway when you sway on your feet. with a whine, you rub at your eyes, making good work of smearing your eye makeup all over the place.
“angel?” is that james coming down the hall? why is there two of him? “angel!”
Pairing:James Potter x gn!Reader - Marauders x Reader Content
Word Count: 5.9k (jdklfdh im sorry)
Warnings:Underage Drinking, Implications of… yeah. I think that’s about it.
Requested:Yes, a long time (i feel bad for only getting to it but i hope the nonnie stuck around to see this piece) by an anon who asked for James x Reader with childhood best friends to lovers trope.
Summary:In which, James Potter was busy writing himself a message on the wall but was too blind to read what he had to say.
Pictures.
In actuality they were only images. For Muggles, they stood stagnant, for James Potter they moved slightly.
But in deeper meaning pictures were moments in time captured in a frame. They were a personal reminder of things that were, things that used to be and anything else that didn’t fall into one of the other two categories.
James Potter adored pictures. His room was littered with them. A handful were of Quidditch players and Tutshill Tornados merchandise. One picture of him and his parents sat on the nightstand beside his bed. But adjourned on the wall to the left was a mostly blank wall. One small Tornados banner was pinned against the soft red paint and in the middle a picture he was particularly fond of.
The film captured James at the age of four. A broom was clutched in his left hand and a toothy smile on his face as the wind rustled his hair causing it to stick up more than it already did. Beside him was you, your eyes crossed and your tongue licking a swirled lolly.
When his mother had shown him the picture you had just left for home, making a young James quite sad that his friend couldn’t stay just a little longer. Euphemia Potter had smiled, handing the picture to her son. “It’s okay, my love. Now you have a piece of Y/N with you.”
“How?” James had asked, his lower lip jutting out in a frown.
Euphemia laughed. “The picture captures you together. Look how happy the two of you look!” she points at her son’s smile in the photo. “You can do whatever you’d like with it.”
James grinned, his eyes lighting up once more. “I want to hang it, mum!” he dragged her hand into the bedroom with him, climbing on top of his bedsheets and pressing the picture to the wall. “Here. That way I can say goodnight to them even when they’re not here.”
Euphemia Potter smiled watching as her son tucked himself under the covers. “That’s a brilliant idea, James.” With a wave of her wand, two pins fastened themself to the wall, the photo beneath.
That was the beginning of James’s love for pictures. More pictures would accumulate such as the one of him and his father at a Tornados game. Drawings you would give him of flowers and Kneazles. The pictures would come and go but yours stayed the same. An additional picture of you and James would later be added three years later when the two of you were seven. James’s broom no longer sat in one hand, instead was gripped with two and hovering five feet off the ground. He had a wicked smile on his face, his glasses slightly falling down his nose. You sat behind him, your small fingers clutching to his waist as the picture captured you mid-squeal.
Time went on yet the pictures of the two of you stayed the same. Along with your drawings, which had improved dramatically since you were seven, he’d occasionally find a Hollyhead Harpies banner plastered to his wall. When he came to scold you, pink banners adjourned in his hand, you’d laugh at the pout on his lips. He could never stay angry at you and always joined in on your laughter.
The final year before things would slightly change was the year before going to Hogwarts. A third picture was added at the age of ten. The Potter family had accompanied your family on a trip to Diagon Alley in which you had bought your screech owl, Juniper. James had one arm wrapped around you. His hair was untidy and a goofy smile was on his face as his other hand flicked your forehead. Your eyes were closed mid-laugh as one hand pushed his face away and the other perched with Juniper who screeched happily on your available arm.
Again, time went on quickly and changes were made in James Potter’s room but you were not one of them. He packed up his Hogwarts things the night of August 31st, leaving his room full of pictures with a soft smile.
You rode on the train with him, both of you waving goodbye to your loved ones. You grinned at him wickedly, “Excited?” you ask.
“Definitely.” he responded. “Do you have money for the trolley?”
You slide into a train compartment, one small boy already sitting there. “Yeah. Do you need to borrow some?”
James nodded and you rolled your eyes, handing money over to the kind witch who passed by, grabbing pumpkin pasties for you and Bertie Botts for James.
The ride was life-changing as you made acquaintances with similar mindsets. Two more boys entered your compartment and along with the scrawny boy from before, all of you made it to Gryffindor. “Where dwell the brave at heart” as James liked to put it.
First year was an interesting feat with James quickly falling head over heels for Lily Evans. Your friendship never faltered although the thought of her in his life made you feel odd. However, you were sure she wouldn’t be in his life for quite some time seeing as his persistent efforts were met with an equally stubborn rejection.
“She’s a firecracker, that one.” he sighed, walking beside you down the hall after another devastating encounter with Lily.
“You’re just embarrassing yourself now, my boy.” you reply, dubbing his nickname to ease the comment.
He smirked. “Then why do you hang out with me?”
“Because, I’m the one who makes sure you don’t cross the line from embarrassing to mortifying.”
He shakes his head with a silly grin. “I doubt that. You love me. That’s why.”
You laugh, an effective way of avoiding the curious ideas that ran through your young mind. “Don’t throw around the l- word so quickly! You’ve got to mean it.”
James bumped your side. “But I’ve known you for years.”
You ruffle his hair, making it messier than it already was. “Save it for Evans.”
—
The year ended and the two of you went home to Northern England hands overflowing with Gryffindor red, spirits high with a drive for Quidditch practice and addresses from Remus, Peter, and Sirius tucked away in your pockets.
James’s room changed tremendously that first year. Alongside the Tutshill Tornados merchandise were small Gryffindor banners, lions enchanted to roar at the touch. You had given him one of your sketches from the school year, one of Sirius and him laughing in Transfiguration, another of him and Peter skipping stones. The pictures of the two of you still remained, a small collection of dust coating the edges which he wiped away with a smile.
Second year was merry and full of high spirits. James had acquired his father’s invisibility cloak which gave cause to a number of nighttime rendezvous and adventures in the kitchens. Suspicion arose on Remus, whose monthly disappearances came to your attention. With the help of Sirius and Peter, the group soon discovered Remus’s guarded secret and accepted the furry little problem with open arms.
The Lily Evans situation did not get any better with James’s persistence holding up fiercely and her hatred toward him even more harsh. As Sirius had dubbed it, “Mate, at this point you’re never getting married.” Remus and Peter whole-heartedly agreed, sending James into an adolescent spiral.
“What if I don’t get married, Y/N/N?” he confided in you by the shores of the Black Lake.
You chuckled, his delirium quite adorable. “You’re going to get married, James. Trust me.”
He sighed, snapping a twig between his fingers. “It’s not definite.”
“Nothing is.” you counter.
James groaned. “I know. I know. But I would like it to be. Wouldn’t you?”
You contemplated the idea, a thought coming to your head. “What if it could be?”
He stared at you curiously. Your eyes lit up and James grinned. “Hit me.”
“If by the time we are thirty neither of us are married then we should get married to each other.” you propose, a proud smile on your face. “That way we can have a definite of our own.”
James grinned. “I like that idea. But what if one of us gets married before that?”
You frown. “Then I guess it’d be a flop. But it’s better than nothing, right?”
He agreed quickly. The sun was setting into a pond of pink. The wind rustled and birds chirped and the moment seemed picture perfect and James wished a camera would magically pop up and capture the moment so he’d be able to hang it on his wall for years to come. It did not work that way, instead, he turned to you with a smirk. “I don’t have anything to propose with.”
You looked down in embarrassment and gave him a shove. “We’re not getting married yet! It’s just a deal not the real thing.”
He rolled his eyes at you. “I know but it feels as though something special should happen. How about we seal with a spit swear?”
You stick your tongue out and pretend to gag. “Ew! No.” you flick his forehead causing him to wince. He grins before flicking you back, watching as you fall back onto the grass.
“I guess a flick works as well.” he sighs. “Y/N Potter has a nice ring to it.”
Your head falls against his shoulder. “I can’t believe I might be a Potter one day. Sounds disgusting.”
James laughs, the weight of your head feeling oddly familiar against his shoulder. “Oh, shut it!”
—
The years came and went. Third year, James made the Quidditch team and he quickly became a ladies man despite his obvious pining over Evans. You made sure to keep his feet on the ground as you didn’t want his ego to get larger than it already was. You came to all his games, occasionally bringing a camera so that James could add his moments of glory onto his beloved room wall. There was the time he tried dedicating a shot to you and ended up getting knocked off his broom by a Beater.
He made the next one thankfully.
On the other hand, you had earned the title of master dueler amongst the third years for your quick arm and sharp spellcasting. While James was at Quidditch practice: you, Peter, Remus, and Sirius would practice in empty classrooms although after a while they became rather bored as you would always win. James would cheer you on, even when you beat him there was a compliment of your skill and he was more than anything, proud.
The summer between third and fourth year was the year the Marauders got their first group picture together. Everyone had met up at the Potter residence, Euphemia Potter snapping the photo with Sirius and James to the left, Peter and Remus on the right, and you in the middle. James hung the picture on his wall as it was routine by now. The whole gang got to see his famous wall of pictures, his life an open storybook to anyone who looked closely.
Fourth year sparked love, pranks, and new ideas. Peter went on his first date, flaming at the cheeks as his friends waved him off embarrassingly. Group pranks ensued upon Snape whose oily hair was dyed all colors of the rainbow by the end of the first semester. You had gone on your first date as well, Steven Goldstein from Hufflepuff whom James threatened to beat up and Sirius who gave him “a talk”.
Most importantly, the group addressed Remus’s furry little problem seeing as each year he came back with more and more scars than before. Two ideas sparked up from the meeting and both were large feats that every member of the group was willing to take.
“So wait..” Peter asked. “You want to make a map… that tracks everyone in Hogwarts?”
James nodded and Remus shook his head. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Don’t look at me that way, Remus.”
Remus shoved him lightly. “How would that even work though? Isn’t it a little invasive?”
You smiled. “It most certainly is invasive but think about how awesome it’d be to have something like that. All we would need is…”
“A complex locator spell.” you and Sirius said together.
Everyone grinned. “Pete can do the drawing and sketching. He’s good at that stuff. We should check for secret passageways. All of us could do the magic. We’ve got the brains.”
“I don’t think someone with brilliant magic technique would use the word brain to describe their intelligence.” you point out. James simply flicked you in the head.
“And there’s the Animagi thing…” Sirius added.
“That’s a reach.” Remus replied.
“More than the map?” Peter questioned.
Remus sighed. “You guys don’t have to do that for me. I’ve been transforming on my own for years. No need to have buddies now.”
“Nonsense.” you say. “Anything for you, Rem. This is what you deserve.”
The friends looked at each other silently. “Are we ready to pull off the biggest student feat in Hogwarts history?” Sirius whispered.
“Aye, aye.” Everyone cheered.
Peter grinned. “We’re up to no good.”
James smiled back. “Then let us manage our mischief well.”
WIth that the group commenced, exiting the abandoned classroom they used and taking off to class. James walked by your side as you headed to astronomy together.
“I can’t wait till we pin this down. It’s going to be an epic year.” he grinned.
You chuckle. “I know you’ll end up stalking someone, Potter. Evans by the looks of it.”
He shook his head, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Nope. I’m gonna stalk you instead. See if you’re hiding any secrets from me.”
You smile. “What secrets could I possibly be hiding from you, my boy?”
James nudged your side with a smirk. “You’re telling me a good-looking fellow like yourself isn’t sneaking off with some other lad other than their best friends.”
You shook your head, the word “good-looking” repeating itself in your mind. “No. If I did I would tell you.”
“Good.” he said, starting up the stairs to the Astronomy tower. “I don’t need some arsehole stealing you away from me.”
You roll your eyes. “No one could ever steal me from you, James. I’m not a Quaffle.”
He nods with a grin. “Yeah. I suppose you’re more of a Snitch.”
You laugh, dashing up the stairs in hopes that you wouldn’t be late for your Astronomy lesson.
—
As one could guess more pictures and sketches made their home on James Potter’s wall. It was a cluttered mess but beautiful nonetheless. It was as though the wall had an expression of its own with its array of Quidditch jerseys, photographs, art, and ticket stubs. Nobody touched the wall except James as he liked having every picture in place. His wall organized the way he liked it best… messy.
Fifth year was the first year you didn’t see James every week. He had eagerly signed up for Quidditch camp and had left for Wales with promises that’d you write about the boys and the progress on the map and Animagi projects. The projects went well with Peter completing the outline sketches of the maps, Remus filling piles of papers on Animagi transformations and finally Sirius and you gathering the needed ingredients for the Animagi process.
You had grown taller over the summer, hair lightening and your features more accentuated. Eagerly you awaited James’s return and when the time did come you had woken up early in the morning to see him arrive by Portkey on the hill. The second he appeared you had rushed over, engulfing him in a hug. You had missed his touch, his constant nagging and overall the James Potterness that followed him around that would never fade with time.
Meanwhile, he was left out of breath, a couple of inches taller and a smile on his face as he squeezed you back. “Y/N/N! I missed you, you lazy hag.”
You laughed, messing up his hair that sat more neatly than in previous years. “And I missed you, my boy.”
The next days before school were spent catching him up on the map and at the pond by your house. With each swim you noticed the changes in James such as the six-pack the tedious trials at Quidditch camp had given him.
“Oi!” you shouted, splashing him in the face. “Whatever happened to the skinny twig that was my friend?”
He smirked. “Oi! Why are you looking?”
You bit your lip, not allowing him to see you flustered. “I’m sorry. You’re my best friend and it’s a very noticeable change!” you pointed at his toned stomach.
James tapped your nose and you stared at him in annoyance. “It’s only noticeable if you want to notice it.”
He turned around, making to walk back to the shore of the pond. You didn’t remember when James had gotten so cheeky although he’d always been that way, just never with you. Wickedly, you took the bucket that floated beside you and dunked it in the water. With a mischievous grin, you snuck up behind him, dumping the bucket of water on his head.
James turned around with a gasp, jaw dropped. You laughed, a wide smile on your lips at the sight of him drenched in his swim trunks. It wasn’t until his arms tucked along your waist, dragging you to the deeper ends of the pond did the smile drop and his return.
“Why you little…” you seethed. “James Fleamont Potter if you-”
It was too late by then, your body submerged in the water and you swam up, his laughter the first noticeable sound. You scowled as he doubled over with laughter on the shore. “I’m never letting you go to Quidditch camp again.”
The two of you walked home as the sun set, many flicks to the forehead ensuing as you did.
—
Fifth year was by far the most epic year of your Hogwarts experience. Everything was prepared for the Animagi transformation and phase two of the map project was ready to launch with Remus having gained access to the restricted section of the library.
It seemed as though the whole student body had recognized the change in James’s physique which only led to an inflation of his ego. The worst part was that Lily Evans just so happened to be one of those said noticers and while her defiance toward him was still strong, she could be caught staring in class much to James’s delight.
The Animagi process began as soon as the September full moon. While Remus suffered in the Shrieking Shack, the four other Marauders set their Mandrake leaves into their mouths preparing for an uncomfortable month of bitterness on their tongues. The leaves were held under their tongues when talking in class and for the rest of the time they resorted to note passing leaving the entirety of Hogwarts wondering why the Marauders went quiet so suddenly.
During the period between moons, they worked on their map. Stacks of books, both regular and restricted, lay among them. Each had a quill and parchment used to take note of spells or pass messages back and forth. As you worked you received a message from James in the form of a crumpled ball of parchment. You smoothed it out with a sigh.
I hate this thing. It tastes like piss and lime.
You held back a chuckle, writing your own message next to his.
You’re not backing out of this, Potter. It’s for Remus.
He stuck the leaf under his tongue in order to stick it out at you and you rolled your eyes. He scribbled a message back.
I know. I know. Doesn’t mean I can’t complain about it.
You smirked, tossing the parchment back to him.
If your scrawny arse can come back from Quidditch camp with abs then you can stomach keeping a leaf in your mouth for a month.
He smoothed it out and you went back to your work only getting in a minute’s reading before the parchment bounced off your head. You scowled at his antics but he only looked at his book with a smirk. Unfolding the paper, James’s messy handwriting took up the last blank space on the parchment.
Nice to know you still think about my abs.
Your stomach squirmed at the feeling that inflamed from his words and the smirk that was on his face. You flicked him on the head, throwing the parchment into the fire before Sirius could ask what it was.
—
It took moon soaked leaves, untouched morning dew and a lightning storm to finally complete the transformations. It was on a late November night that a lightning storm finally struck and in the fifth corridor bathroom the Marauders made their first transformations. For Peter, a small rat with a wriggling tail. For Sirius, a pure black dog. For James, a large stag with mighty horns. For you, a sly fox with sleek orange fur.
Thus that night began the use of the nicknames: Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Prongs and Vixen. Dubbed by James and agreed upon all around. The final full moons of fifth year were spent prancing around Hogsmeade alongside Remus whose scars diminished with each transformation spent with his friends.
The downside of it all was the building tension in the school. With Lord Voldemort on the rise, more and more of your classmates were showing their true colors. Select Slytherins no longer wore short sleeves, their wrists always covered even in the heat of summer. Watchful eyes and protective glares, you went home for summer in worry.
Over the summer, Prongs lost his Pronginess. He wrote to Lily Evans most days of the week and now the things she sent him hung on his wall alongside you and the Marauders. An anticipated change but a scary one still. Every outing with James became more about Lily and less about anything else. You could feel your best friend slipping away and you told him so the night before the start of sixth year.
The two of you sat together in the branches of a tree. The sun hit your skin in rays and clouds passed by over your heads. James’s voice droned on about his darling Lily flower and with an unknowing malice you snapped at him. “Shut it!” you groaned.
His eyes looked over at you, hands holding your head in remorse. “Aren’t you happy for me? You’ve been acting off all summer.”
“I’ve been acting off because you’ve been acting off. I am happy for you but Evans is the only thing you talk about these days. What happened to talking about the Tornados or sneaking out together for milkshakes?”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s different now.”
“Well, it shouldn’t be.” you exclaim. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t grow up. I support the idea of you no longer being a cheeky bastard. If you’re happy with Evans then I am happy for you. But being with Evans doesn’t mean you have to forget about me or the Marauders or everything else.”
James nodded, a leaf spinning between his fingers as he frowned. “I’m sorry, Y/N/N.”
You shake your head. “I am too. Sorry I snapped at you, my boy.” your head fell onto his shoulder the same way it had done for years only this time things had changed. The weight still felt perfect on his shoulder but now his stomach turned and his breath hitched at the close proximity. Things were indeed changing although the two of you only danced around it, not wanting to address the mess you two had made.
Your head was still against his shoulder as you spoke quietly. “Just remember you’re not a Quaffle.”
He chuckled, stroking your hair affectionately. “I guess I’ll be the snitch then.”
You smiled, swimming in the feel of the James Potter you knew so well. Later that night, the two of you snuck out like old times, sharing a chocolate milkshake and sending each other glances the whole way home.
—
Sixth year was a rollercoaster. The map was finished, all the efforts poured out finally receiving an equally impressive outcome with the parchment branded with the names of the Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, Prongs and Vixen. Remus had his first kiss and Sirius decided on leaving home and James welcomed him with open arms.
The other Marauders were not impartial to the changes in your and James’s behavior. The miniscule changes in his face when you napped on his lap or the flush of your skin when he rustled your hair. In all honesty, it was as though the two of you were finally waking up and seeing what they’d been seeing all along. However, your own defiance was strong and love wasn’t simple. James was still under the impression that his heart beat for Lily Evans and you flirted around your feelings as opposed to finally confronting them.
When Gryffindor won the Quidditch season, you were the first one in James’s arms to congratulate him. He spun you around, a large grin on his face. “We won!”
You smiled. “That you did, my boy. Celebration calls and are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
He tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “Hmm? Let me guess… Firewhiskey?”
“That’s my boy.” you cheer, linking your arm in his and dragging him off the field as Lily Evans watched the boy she had taken a chance on run off with someone else.
—
Firewhiskey made for a fine celebration and resulted in James and you collapsed on the floor of the Gryffindor common room at two in the morning. His glasses were crooked as he stared up at the ceiling and your hair fell in waves on the floorboards.
“Blimey, I can’t believe we won.” James chuckled, his words slurring together slightly.
“You deserve it, my boy.” you say, lightly punching his arm. “How are you feeling on this fine evening?”
His cheeks went pink but a smile overtook his features making for a hilarious expression when he shouted out. “Randy!”
You doubled over with laughter. “Gosh, James. I don’t need to hear about this.” you shove his grinning face with your palm.
“What, you’ve never felt randy before?” he asked, a childlike expression on his face juxtaposing such an intrusive question.
You hide your embarrassment behind a grin. “Yes, but I’m not going around telling you about it.”
He tapped your nose with the tip of his finger and your stomach swirled. “And why not?”
You turned over to your side. “I’m not sure best friends tell each other about being randy, Prongs.”
James sighed. “I guess not. But how are you feeling, my little vixen?”
With a swig of your drink and a grin you reply. “Randy.”
The two of you erupt into fits of laughter. James pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I suppose it’s the whiskey then.”
You stare up at the ceiling. “Yeah, I suppose so.”
Both of you knew that wasn’t the case. You knew that despite the whiskey slowing the gears of your mind you still noticed James’s hand laying by your waist. You could still trace the outline of his chin and the bridge of his nose. James could still see the curve of your lips and the rise of your chest. Firewhiskey was most definitely not the cause of your randiness.
But it was the easiest thing to blame.
—
Your birthday came soon after with the Marauders celebrating in joy. Presents were exchanged with Remus giving you some books, Peter knitted (with the help of his mother) a pair of mittens for you and Sirius had gifted you a record to play on your stereo.
But James had to be extravagant. It wasn’t everyday his best friend turned seventeen and he marked the occasion with something expensive yet meaningful. When you opened the small box inside had been a silver fox ring. It’s eyes sparkling gems that twinkled as if blinking.
“James, I’m going to kill you.” you seethed. “This is way too expensive. I’m turning seventeen not fifty.”
He laughed. “Oi, woman! It’s fine. Nothing I couldn’t handle. Besides, only the best for you.”
You stared at it once more before engulfing him in a hug. “It’s beautiful, my boy. Thank you.”
His arms squeezed your waist, breathing you in and remembering the sweet smells of childhood and friendship rolled into one. His eyes closed and it was as if he had drifted off into a pleasant dream. “Of course, my little vixen.”
You made certain to flick his head after.
He was starting to regret giving it to you already.
—
Sixth year came to a close with an even more devastating end than the last. The war only continued to rage with Muggles being murdered miles away from the school, Muggle-borns driving into hiding. Sirius’s brother was slowly falling into line with the other Slytherins, devoting their hours to the torture of Muggleborns, Lord Voldemort and the likes.
James left Hogwarts heart-broken when Lily Evans broke up with him on the last day of term. “Look around!” Lily had told him. “You’re blind, James. I’m not the person you want and it’d be clear if you’d stop and take a look.”
He hadn’t known what she meant and the first week of summer was spent crying and eating ice cream on the sofa with you by his side. His room had become a mess and Lily’s letters no longer remained on the wall instead crumbled up in a ball in the trash.
Euphemia Potter couldn’t dread to see her son in the dumps any longer and she made sure to tell him so one evening after you had left.
“James, you need to get your life together, my love.” she whispered, rubbing her sons back reassuringly.
His words came out muffled into her neck. “It’s hard.”
“I know.” she soothed. “And I’m always going to be there for you.”
“Promise?” he asked.
“Promise.” she smiled. “Now how about you go clean your room. It’s become quite dirty.”
He nodded, trudging to his room with a broom. Lily’s words repeated in his mind as he entered. “You’re blind, James. Look around!” But there was nothing to look for. All he saw was his wall and a soft smile came to his face as he approached it. The Tutshill Tornado banners clung loosely to the paint and drawings of Kneazles and landscapes and trees. Pictures of the Marauders and Gryffindor lions.
And finally the ones of you.
His fingers ran across the picture in the middle. Four-year old James grinning and you licking a lolly. His eyes moved to the next one, seven years old and flying together on a broomstick. A grin broke out on his face as he saw the one with your owl in Diagon Alley, his fingers flicking your forehead. James’s mind was on hyperdrive as he examined each picture, one common factor in almost all of them.
You.
You were in many of the photos, a smile adorned on your face. If you weren’t in the photos you were the one taking them, knowing how much he adored them. Any pictures that hung were sketched by your hands. Here was James Potter’s open story, the story of his life all plastered to the wall as though it was an empty canvas. Present in every moment, every aspect, had been you. You had been the start of his book, the picture of the two of you as tots still smacked in the middle of the wall. Yes, he realized. You had started his book and had remained in it for quite some time.
Lily Evans must’ve noticed and maybe everyone else had too.
James had been blind to the message that was sprawled across his wall. He had been the one writing it, maybe not knowingly but writing it out all the same. Everyone had seen it except the writer and his subject, the message painstakingly clear years prior to its conception.
He quickly removed all the pictures from the wall, grabbing each one that hung and piling them up in his hand. The door swung open as he dashed out of his room yelling, “I’ve got to go, mum!” before running out the front door. The hills of green were illuminated by the night sky, the stars burned for James as he hopped over branches and boulders to get to you.
Your house was in the distance, your figure standing a few feet away from the home. He called out to you, your eyes turned to meet his. When he reached you, he paused, catching his breath.
“James, what on Earth are you doing here?” you laugh, placing a hand on his shoulder as he breathed.
He stood up straight, panting as he held up a photo. “This is us when we were four. The first photo we ever took together.”
You squinted at him. “Right?”
He shuffled through the pictures, fingers tracing each one. “And this is from when we were seven. That one from when we were ten. You gave me this drawing when we were six because you loved Kneazles and wanted one as a pet. That drawing was from the first year when we went skipping stones at the Black Lake and you sketched me and Peter.”
Your face melts slowly. “James, I don’t understand. You’ve had these for years.”
He exhaled, his eyes lighting up. “That’s the thing. I never saw it till now but Lily said I was blind and that she wasn’t the person I wanted.” You nod, wiping the sweat from his forehead with your sleeve and he grinned. “See that right there. That’s what I want.”
The night air bit at your spine. “You want me to wipe the sweat from your forehead?”
He shook his head with a soft chuckle. “Not exactly. I want you to wipe the sweat from my forehead for the next year and the next ten and then the next fifty. You’ve been doing it for years already and the thing is… I don’t think I want anyone else doing it for me.”
You blinked as he came closer, his palms cradling your cheek as you gazed into his eyes. “You’ve been in my life for as long as I could remember and I want you to stay in it for as long as I live. You told me once to not throw around the l-word and I said…”
“But I’ve known you my whole life.” you mutter.
“I think I’ve loved you for a while. I just didn’t know it yet.”
You shook your head as the wind rustled the branches, the windchime on your porch creating soft melodies. A large grin spread across your lips yet you continued to shake your head. “There’s a war, James.”
He smiled. “Only more the reason to be with me.”
“But I’ve been with you my whole life.” you tease.
“Oh, shut up!” he chuckles, before leaning down to capture your lips. At that moment everything made sense. All the pieces of the puzzle sifted into place and the stars applauded you from the sky and the night gale created a ruckus at your shed blindfold.
“Be my Snitch?” he asked.
You rolled your eyes, “That’s the cringiest thing you’ve ever said, my boy.”
He smirked. “Oh, but you love it.”
“Perhaps I do.” you replied, flicking his forehead for good measure.
—
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a/n: Trying this format out bc there are a surprisingly low number of gifs of ATJ smiling. Both reader and James have glasses in this. This is for the glasses wearers!
summary: James finds you that morning struggling to cook breakfast. Among helping you, he realizes you may need to get new glasses and he gets very comfortable in helping test out his theory. Close is not close enough when it comes to James Potter
word count: 2.2k
James walks throughout your home, feet padding against the floor. He rubs his eyes, attempting to wipe away the drowsiness of having just woken up.
Hearing the clanging of pots and pans, his attention moves toward the kitchen and his heart skips a beat. He knows you’re in there, trying once again to cook something. He grins, breathing in deeply and brushing a hand through his hair to ruffle his uncontrollable locks.
Walking into the doorway, he leans a shoulder against it, crossing his arms and smiling at you as you try and figure out a box of waffle mix. Your brows were furrowed deeply as you attempted to read the instructions.
“But if I wanted to make more servings, how many extra eggs would I need? You don’t tell me that now do you, you dumb box of trash,” you murmur through gritted teeth. James let out a few silent laughs before heading over to you.
Your gaze moves towards the sound of feet moving and you inhale deeply at the sight of James, as if just his presence was a breath of fresh air. He hums as he slides up behind you, his arms curling around you and pressing against your stomach so that your body molds against his. You sink back into the hold, resting your head against his shoulder and smiling up at him.
“Good morning, love,” you say softly as James starts swaying you both back and forth. He leans down and gives you a soft kiss.
“Good morning. How’s breakfast going?” He asks amusedly, his lips still brushing against yours as his face remains centimeters away. You snort, shaking your head lightly.
“As if you don’t already know,” you say, eyes narrowing playfully. James’ face breaks out into a wide grin as he visibly holds back his laughter.
“Alright, move on over,” he says, squeezing your waist before his arms leave you. You jump as he gives your butt a few light pats, looking over your shoulder to grin at him before you move away from the burner, turning around to face him fully. You see him pick up the box of mix and your brows furrow.
“What are you doing?” You ask, shoulders tensing as his hand fiddles with the edge of the skillet. He looks up, noting the ingredients you had already gathered.
“I’m making breakfast, what does it look like I’m doing?” He murmurs, his attention on the food. Your jaw drops as a small sound of disbelief falls out. You step forward, placing your hand on the box, effectively getting James to look at you.
“No— James! I wanted to make you breakfast,” you argue, brows set in determination. James grins, appearing amused and you don’t entirely appreciate it. He turns to you, hip leaning against the oven, box still held in both your hands.
“I think we’d both be happier if I at least helped,” he says, smugness dripping from his tone and expectations clear in his gaze. Your face drops as you stare at him. You both silently watch each other, your eyes narrowed slightly.
Eventually you sigh, hand dropping from the box mix. You blink back, breaking the stare down.
“Fine,” you mumble, moving to cross your arms. James smiles, laughing and shaking his head lightly.
He moves quick, his hands grabbing onto your waist and before you know what’s happening, he’s lifting you up into the air before plopping you down on the counter. His hands move to the outside of your legs as they begin caressing up and down your thighs, hands slipping past the edge of your loose pajama shorts. You stare at him wide-eyed as he smiles brightly.
“There we go, dove,” he says softly, squeezing your thighs before letting go and moving back to the waffle mix. You lean back against the cupboards watching his hands as they move around the ingredients.
“I guess I’ll just sit here and make unhelpful commentary that you pretend to take into consideration before you ultimately ignore it, which is usually for the best if I’m being honest. But I seriously don’t know what’s wrong with a pancake omelette—“ you start before James interrupts you.
“Love…” he says, trailing off with a tone of confusion. You look up to meet his gaze, noticing his furrowed brows and the concern edging along outside of his eyes as he holds the box of waffle mix in hand.
“Yes?” You ask cautiously, not knowing what could cause such a wariness in James.
“Are your eyes alright?” He asks, looking between them as if simply gazing at them could help him spot a possible issue. Though there were none you knew of.
“Yeah, why?” You respond with a nod, curious as to why this was brought up. James brows furrow further, his gaze sharpening as he looks at you. He holds up the box next to him.
“Because the instructions for additional servings are right here in block letters,” he says plainly, shaking the box slightly. Your lips part and your hands start to move toward the box but James is quicker as he brings it close to your face.
You push your glasses back up your nose as you both hold the box close. Eyes narrowing, you notice now the letters are quite blurry.
“Oh,” is all you can say once James taps his finger against the area that held those specific instructions and you realize you just weren’t able to see it. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment.
James tugs the box out of your hands and sets it on the counter. He then taps at your knee, silently instructing you. You spread your thighs, allowing him to step into the space between them.
“Might have to get you checked out soon. Here,” he notes before moving. He takes off your glasses and you let him, sitting there as you come to terms with your vision worsening. With your glasses off, everything is basically a blur. But you can see James spread his arms out to the side. “Am I more blurry than usual?” He asks, head tilting. You grin and mentally promise yourself that you won’t let this news ruin your morning.
“Mmm, I don’t know. Come a bit closer,” you request with pursed lips and a dubious expression. James listens, coming closer. You shake your head. “Closer…” you trail off, needing him close and unsuspecting. Once James inches close enough, you smirk and jerk forward, arms darting out and snatching his glasses right of his face. “AHA!” You shout, hiding them behind your back. James leans back, shocked.
“Are you serious right now?” He asks, a grin threatening to take over. You laugh, shaking your head.
“No, I’m not Sirius!” You deny, causing James to break out a few hearty laughs.
“You know what I mean,” he says, voice serious but expression delighted as he knows that joke will never get old. You raise a brow at him, inclining your head forward.
“Do you want your glasses back?” You ask, changing the subject as you fiddle with them behind your back before placing them on the counter, still behind your back. James swipes his tongue over his teeth as he grins wide.
“Yes, in fact I do,” he says with a floppy nod. You bite your lip, noticing his attention flicking down to the action.
“Then come take em’” you whisper the challenge. But James merely leans back looking curious yet pleasantly surprised.
“You’re in a playful mood,” he notes, finding it odd given the breakfast and glasses situation. Your playfulness lulls as you stare at your boyfriend fondly, his words echoing in your head. You shrug before responding.
“I’m just trying to be happy about this,” you state, voice quieter than before. James’ features soften. His hands move from his side to hold your waist, tugging you close to the edge of the counter.
“I love it when you’re happy. I love it even more when I’m the one making you happy,” he expresses lowly, appearing exposed and sincere, yet comfortable looking so. You smile.
“You always make me happy, James,” you whisper. James inhales sharply and his shoulders rise as if a huge weight has been lifted off his back. He exhales as he moves closer, not stopping till he’s nose-to-nose with you.
“Can you see me now?” He asks as his face comes into focus. You nod, expression dazed as you remain shocked by how beautiful this man is.
“Crystal clear,” you whisper breathlessly as you gaze deeply into his eyes. James does the same, both of you needing and wanting to be this close in order to see each other perfectly.
“Merlin, you’re beautiful,” James compliments after a few moments of silence. You let out a small laugh.
“How would you know? You’re practically blind without your glasses,” you tease, knowing what he meant. But James scoffs as a smile lights up his face.
“Glasses get in the way. I see you most clearly when I’m close to you, just like this. And suddenly my vision has never been better because you are the most gorgeous thing I have ever seen or could ever imagine in my entire life,” he speaks, the words flowing out of him like he didn’t even need to think about it. They were just there, on the tip of his tongue, waiting to be spoken. And they stole the breath from your lungs. You leaned back against the cupboards, staring at him fondly.
“You’re in a romantic mood,” you note, repeating similar words to what he had said just minutes ago. James’ eyes spark to life with mischief and mirth.
“I’m just really in love with you,” he responds, playing along. Your heart skips a beat as you’re filled with a warmth by his words. Your teeth nibble on your lip as you try and reign in the smile that threatens to break loose.
“I love the way you speak to me, and I love that it’s me making you feel this way,” you continue, scrunching your nose toward him, feeling cheeky. James stares, eyes flickering between your eyes and your lips.
“I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else,” he says absentmindedly as he slowly starts to lean in. You smirk, following his lead.
“Neither would I,” you say, matter-of-factly. You lick your lips, your breath hitching as James’ hands move to your waist.
He stops a hair’s breadth away from you, his eyes locked onto your lips. You watch him closely. His hands squeeze your waist before he leans down, taking your bottom lip between his teeth. Your heart seizes as he tugs on it. You shudder slightly, grip tightening on the edge of the counter.
James releases your lip and before it can even fully snap back in place his mouth is on yours, kissing you deeply. You groan into the kiss, hands darting to bury themselves in his curls. You tug and he grunts, responding by teasing his tongue against the seam of your lips. Opening your mouth you meet him in the middle, tongues taunting each other, fighting for dominance.
Spreading his hands across your stomach, his thumbs brush the underside of your breasts and you exhale shakily into his mouth. You melt against the cupboard, letting him take dominance over the kiss. You internally curse him, both of you knowing that was one of your greatest weaknesses.
You kiss until your chest tightens and your throat starts to burn. James starts to break away, taking your bottom lip in his mouth once again and sucking on it before letting it go with a pop and fully breaking the kiss. You whine, sinking deeper against the cupboard as you look at him with wide eyes. His eyes slide open, meeting yours with a smirk already decorating his face.
“Now how about some breakfast and then I can make a call and schedule your appointment?” He offers, fingers brushing across your torso before letting it go, hands moving to rest on the counter.
“Deal,” you say breathlessly with a light nod. James huffs out a laugh, his smirk widening as he looks over your slacked form, gaze zoning in on your eyes and swollen lips.
“Right then,” he affirms, starting to move in again. You sit there stunned as he gives you two more quick kisses before stepping out from between your legs and grabbing the box of waffle mix once again. He looks back at you and raises something in the air. You narrow your eyes before picking up your discarded glasses and putting them back on.
With your vision restored, you look to see James holding up his glasses that you had stolen. Your jaw drops.
“How did you get those?!” You ask, demanding answers while trying not to laugh in disbelief. You glance back behind you, seeing there was nothing there. When you meet his gaze once more, he has his glasses back on but you can still clearly see the mischievous glimmer in his eyes.
“I’ll never reveal my ways,” he whispers conspiratorially, eyes narrowing. He turns away, heading toward the fridge to gather the additional ingredients you must have forgotten.
“Now wait a minute—“ you start, even jumping off of the counter to follow him before being cut off by James’ boisterous laugh. You stop in your tracks, your heart fluttering rapidly at the sound. James glances at you from over his shoulder, his smile wide. He pushes his glasses up his nose and you mirror the action by instinct.
His smile softens before he turns back to the fridge. You shake your head fondly before moving back to sit on the counter, waiting to watch him cook breakfast.
Pairings: James Potter x reader, Marauders era Warnings: Fluff, implied smut, very light smut, erotic tones Word Count: 3,440 A/N:Obviouslyyyyy this is based on the sketching scene in Titanic with Jack and Rose. I just watched it last night and just haddd to write a fic off it. Jamesy just gives me the soft boi vibes needed for a scene like this
With his mussed hair, swaggering stride, and infectious personality, James Potter was undeniably attractive. With Sirius by his side, the two were unstoppable. Sirius was as dark and mysterious as James was light and boyish–the two complimented one another perfectly. Together, they held every eye in the room.
Everybody knew James was a Quidditch star, one of the best Seekers the Gryffindor house had ever seen. He could’ve been just as good academically if he could sit still long enough, or if Sirius would let him alone long enough to study for any measurable amount of time. However, luckily for him, his natural skill saved him. He lived to make people laugh, even out of exasperation if necessary–even McGonagall fell to his charms on occasion. But most people didn’t know about his true gift. It seemed he liked to keep it a secret.
To be clear, you weren’t a stalker; you didn’t have their class periods sketched out in a notebook, you didn’t trail behind them in the halls, you didn’t eavesdrop on their conversations, it just seemed you and James preferred the same section of the library at about the same time. He’d turn the corner, find you seated on some sort of plush seating and give you a small smile before commandeering the table in front of you–James couldn’t be anywhere without demanding some sort of attention.
James’ secret was what you looked forward to most each day; James could draw. Not just stick figures, or abstract pieces that could probably qualify as art by definition, but truly beautiful work. Throughout the years, he drew many things, the towering shelves, the roaring fireplace, the Hogwarts grounds through a windowpane, and even caricatures of mean old Madam Pince as her beady eyes scanned for book abusers. Over the years, you watched his talent grow and his subject preference change. As he improved, he moved towards people. Girls studying with their hair tucked behind their ears, boys looking disgruntled as they glared down at their homework, eventually groups of them, working quickly to capture all of them candidly before they lost focus or left. Slowly, though, his subject and medium became slightly voyeuristic. Though he still drew in the library, usually choosing a pretty girl to sketch, the setting changed. From studying solemnly in their robes in the library, they were drawn looking up provocatively from their studies, their robes slit in promiscuous areas. This year, though, this year they become true art. His linework was precise, his shading improving as his shoulders hunched over in concentration, his head flicking up every so often to perfect an aspect of the portrait. You began to memorize his back, the way he’d tilt his head when he was unsatisfied with proportions, the way he’d roll his neck after finishing a section, the way his shoulders would tense when he’d have to leave before completing a sketch.
It was just as you were watching him now that he rolled his neck around and stretched. Lifting up the piece, you about dropped your book as he spoke to you.
“What do you think?” he said, without looking back. His voice was quiet enough to not disturb anyone, but loud enough to know it was for you.
The drawing was of a brown-haired girl sitting across the library at one of the open tables, but it was only her wild curls that told you it was the same girl. She didn’t sit at the table in front of you, studying. Instead, she lay splayed out lazily on one of the armchairs in the common rooms, her elbow resting on the arm, her hand in her hair. Her legs were splayed open; the only thing covering the apex was a conspicuously placed cat laid on her lap. Completely nude, the woman in the photograph was beautiful, without a doubt.
“Sorry?” you coughed, shocked. Bewildered in every way, you couldn’t help but stare at the woman in the photo, the expression on her face, the honesty and peace in the way she laid, the curvature of her breast, the lines of her hips; the clear adoration in the drawing made your cheeks warm.
“What do you think? Hard to tell what you women look like sometimes underneath the robes. D’you think it’s accurate?” he tilted his head as he spoke, his back still to you.
“Er,” you furrowed your brows. The art was gorgeous; how could you tell him any different? “It’s gorgeous.“
“But do you think it’s accurate?” he asked again, this time turning around in his seat and looking at you.
“Er, dunno. Haven’t exactly seen her naked,” you shrugged.
“Me neither. Bit funny, really. Drawing nude women without ever actually having seen one,” James said, grinning a half-smile.
“Why do you, then?” you asked, closing your book. James was simply not someone one skipped out on a conversation with. The way his hazel eyes gazed at you, you could feel the intensity, and it made your heart thrum.
“Can you think of anything better to draw than beautiful, nude women?” he asked, grinning a full grin now.
“No, suppose not,” you agreed, smiling softly. “We are mesmerizing.”
“You’ve no idea,” he grinned cheekily.
“Prongs! There you are, should’ve known,” Sirius all but yelled, striding over to where James sat with you. Ponce could be heard ‘shushing’ him from rows away. “Oh, and who have we here?”
Sirius smirked down at you from your seat on the floor, and the sole attention of both boys was simply too much for you. You could feel the heat in your cheeks.
“Y/N,” you breathed, eyes bouncing between the two beautiful boys.
“Y/N,” Sirius repeated. “Beautiful,”
The blush in your cheeks was absolutely blazing at this point, and it was all you could do not to hold the book over your face.
“Well, if you’re all done, Picasso, we’re gonna be late for practice,” Sirius sighed, picking up the most recent drawing and giving a complimentary nod towards the picture and the subject in front of them. “Though I do think she’d have a bit more of a tummy, those adorable little cheeks of hers can’t be the only extra there.”
“See?” James said, turning back to you. “Anyway, suppose I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“I’ll be here,” you said quietly, watching their backs as they walked out of sight.
The next day, it was all you could do to get through your classes, to get back to the library in hopes James might talk to you again.
You needn’t be told you were hopeless; it was obvious.
In a moment of courage, you steeled your spine and chose the side opposite of James’.
Pulling out your Herbology textbook, you got to work on writing the essay about the Tentacula plant.
“You changed spots,” a deep, warm voice suddenly rang out. WIth your beat skipping into a frenzy, you looked up at James coyly. “Careful, with a look like that, you’ll get your very own page.”
Forcing yourself to breathe regularly and appear poised as though this occurred everyday, you decided to go for a playful response.
“You know, it is a bit weird,” you smirked, your tapping pencil the only giveaway of your nerves.
James pulled his seat out and sat across from you, smirking back. “What’s weird?”
“Drawing naked schoolgirls, without their knowledge. Bit voyeuristic,” you teased.
“It is not! I don’t actually spy on them while they’re naked, or doing anything naughty,” he added, winking at you.
You banged your knee on the table as his foot touched yours under the table. Blushing violently, you worked to quickly recover.
“Maybe not, but do you really think girls want you sketching what you think they look like naked?” you asked, setting down your pencil.
“Er,” James looked awkward for a moment, “yeah?”
You had to reward him with a small laugh.
“Besides, not as if I’m going round with them on display. Pads sees them, but it’s downright difficult to keep things from him, haven’t got the time. And you’ve seen them, but that’s just because you’re nosy,” he teased back, grinning slightly.
“I am not!” you hissed, offended.
“Are too! Been bloody watching me for years,” he grinned fully now, loving the way your blush lit your cheeks.
“Have not! Besides, I think you have a very skewed vision of women,” you said, straightening your papers haughtily, desperate to get the attention off you watching James.
“What?” he said, fully buying into your distraction.
“We don’t all look like that, you know, Sirius was right,” you grumbled.
“Sorry?” he scoffed, looking bewildered.
“It’s just,” you thought about how best to say it, “we don’t all look like bloody adult film stars. Breasts don’t usually sit like perfectly symmetrical balloons on the chest. Hip dips are a thing. Body hair? Women have it too, not all of us spend hours plucking ourselves bare.”
“Hang on,” James said, ruffling through his bag and pulling out a piece of parchment. “Alright, asymmetry, less perfection, hip dips, hair. This is good. This is what I was talking about. What else?”
He seemed hungry for how to improve, looking at you eagerly.
“I dunno, er, some women have a bit of a tummy, large thighs,” you wracked your brain for more, “I could probably show you better than I could tell you.”
As soon as the words left your mouth, your eyes grew in shock at your own forwardness. Hoping he would just think it a turn of phrase, you steeled yourself for his response.
He relaxed his quill and looked up from his notes.
“Show me, then,” he all but purred. Your heart sprinted at an unbelievable pace, your stomach bubbling nervously.
“Alright,” you breathed, surprising even yourself.
“Alright?” James repeated, his pupils blown instantly.
“Alright,” Sirius repeated cheerily, seemingly popping up out of nowhere. Jumping slightly, you cursed yourself and turned back to your books.
“You’ve really got to work on your timing, mate,” James huffed. Sirius looked put out at his friend’s reaction.
“Maybe if you could keep track of time yourself, I wouldn’t have to. Quidditch,” Sirius said, gesturing to the large clock on the wall; one of the many hands was Scarlett red and pointed at the Quidditch field.
Grumbling and stuffing the parchment into his bag, James turned back to you.
“Tonight, here, 2am,” he commanded.
“In the middle of the library?!” you whisper yelled. Laughing at your reaction, he waved you off.
“It’ll be empty, I’m sure of it,” he reassured you.
“What’s at 2 am?” Sirius asked quietly as the two of them walked away once more.
“Doesn’t matter,” James shrugged. “Listen, I need the library empty tonight, don’t ask questions…”
His voice trailed off as the two of them disappeared from view, and you couldn’t believe yourself as you sat alone with your courageous words.
Wrapping a scarlet satin robe around yourself a bit tighter, you silently paced the room as your bedmates slept on, the nervous energy reaching a height.
“What the hell is wrong with me?” you cursed at yourself, biting your lip anxiously.
You’d barely even had a full conversation with a man, let alone James. And now you were about to strip nude in the middle of the bloody library so he could sketch you?
Casting another nervous glance at the clock, you held your breath as the clock struck 1:50. Cursing quietly and half hoping he wouldn’t be down there, you began your descent down the spiral staircase and out of the common rooms into the drafty night. Hugging the walls, you kept a keen ear out for Filch and an eye peeled for his dreaded cat.
Finally, after 10 anxiety-filled minutes, you reached the library; your anxiety only increased tenfold.
Padding silently through the spacious room, you headed towards your corner.
“James?” you whispered in the darkness. No response. Steeling yourself this time for rejection, or his absence, you called out once more. “James!”
Suddenly, a hand touched the small of your back, and the other hand quickly came up to your mouth.
“Hello,” he whispered into your ear, causing a fresh wave of goosebumps to cover your skin. Moving his hand, you smacked his chest.
“You scared the bloody hell out of me,” you sighed. “What’s this?”
It seemed he’d brought one of the black velvet sofas to your section and had it catty-corner with the shelves, the smoldering fireplace in the background. The table seemed to be providing the light, with several candles lit on it.
“Thought you could lay across it,” he said, scratching the back of his neck.
“Alright,” you said, breath oddly becoming more calm as the moment came closer.
Turning around to see him for the first time that night, you nearly melted there. He had a simple shirt and trousers, but his sleeves were rolled up a couple times to expose his forehead, his hair looked as though he’d just rolled out of bed–as it always did. He seemed to be nervous as his hands fidgeted with different parts of himself. Sitting in the seat he placed facing the couch, he grabbed his parchment and splayed his pencils out on the table next to him.
“Whenever you’re ready, then,” he said, grabbing a pencil.
Taking a deep breath, you walked towards the couch and turned back towards him. Lifting your hands, you brought them up to the sash tying your robe together, and grabbed an end. Pulling, the robe fell open, and you shook it off your shoulders, standing utterly bare in front of James. He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, pulling slightly at the crotch of his pants.
His reaction only boosted your ego, and you found yourself almost at ease.
“Draw me like one of your french girls, James,” you simpered, unable to miss out on the opportunity.
“My French girls?” he questioned. Remembering he was brought up in the Wizarding world and wouldn’t understand your reference, you waved it off. “Er, just, er, go ahead and lay across the couch.”
Lying slightly on your side, you began adjusting yourself when James began ordering your pose.
“Lay your arm like you had it,” he directed, and you moved how you thought he meant, but his facial expression told you that wasn’t it.
“Come pose me, James,” you whispered. It was hard for you not to speak seductively in such a setting. He cleared his throat once more.
“Alright,” he placed his parchment on his seat as he walked towards you, and you were pleased to see his trousers looked a bit tight.
He gingerly grasped your wrist and draped your arm over your head. His hand then went to adjust your knee, and you jumped slightly at what could only be described as electricity brushed your skin. Bending it slightly, he straightened out your other leg slightly and turned to your other arm, bending the elbow so that your fingers lay against your head.
It was all you could to not point out the irony.
“Perfect,” he said under his breath, clearly assuming you couldn’t hear.
He took back his seat and bent over his parchment, his wrist moving slightly as he began his sketch.
The library was utterly silent aside from the flickering of the flames and James’ pencil as it moved across the page. After several minutes, you couldn’t take the silence.
“How’s it coming?” you asked quietly.
“You’ll see,” he smirked. “Now, stay still.”
“Sir, yes, sir,” you grinned slightly before relaxing your face once more.
His hazel eyes zeroed in on your chest as he drew, determined to do his muse justice.
“I see what you mean, about the asymmetry,” he murmured, almost to himself. Suddenly self-conscious, you began to adjust yourself.
“No, no,” he held up his hands to stop you. “It’s natural; it’s beautiful. Trust me, darling, the real thing is so much better.”
His words calmed you, and you shook your head slightly, trying to get out of it. Settling back into your old pose, you instead focused on James. It was odd, almost, seeing him sketch from the front. The way his head tilted when he was unhappy with something was accompanied by a furrowing of his brow, his eyes flitting quickly from you back to the page as he figured out what was wrong. His hazel eyes seemed almost brown in the darkness of the empty library. His breathing was steady, his face poised in what only could be described as intense concentration. He switched his legs back and forth as time wore on, shading more closely now–he must be finished with the linework.
“Move your hair forward a bit,” he directed, and you pushed your Y/C/H onto your face a bit, so that your fingers on your other hand brushed it.
His face returned to the intense concentration, and you suppressed a smile as his tongue poked out of his lips as he clearly focused on one detail.
Finally, his constant movements slowed, and he began to straighten his back more regularly, his eyes flitting back to you and the paper as he checked over his work.
“So?” you breathed, unable to hold yourself back any longer.
“I think this might be my best work yet,” he smiled lightly, his eyes now steadying on you more frequently. “Having a real model instead of an idea in my head is so much better.”
“So I don’t disappoint, then?” you asked, fully aware you were fishing.
“Disappoint?” he breathed, looking mildly bemused. “It’s all I can do to remain seated professionally in this chair right now.”
Your heart thrummed in your chest at his words.
After a few erasings and redo’s, he rolled his neck.
“All done, then?” you asked. He nodded, still studying his work. Sitting up, you rolled blood back into your stiff limbs. “Well, go on then, let’s see it.”
He stood up and walked over to the couch. Handing you the sketch, it took you several seconds to comprehend that it was you.
The woman in this photograph was stunning. Her curved, nude body quietly dominated the scene. The swell of her breast was accentuated by the sharp peak of the nipple as the cold castle air blanketed her body. The curvature of her hip contrasted greatly with the vague shadowing of her ribs as she stretched her body. Her legs draped along the couch like a string of pearls, eye-catching with a ghostly shine on the pale tone of her body. Her hair cascaded off the side of the couch like flowing water, shining in the candlelight. Her face told you she knew she was beautiful, she knew she had the full attention of the man in front of her, and she knew what to do with it. Her thin lips pulled into the slightest of smirks. Yet, her big Y/C/E eyes held an innocence in direct contrast with the confidence her entire face held. A quiet feminine dominance spilled from the page, infecting you.
This was a mythical siren, her beauty so enticing, so fully encapturing; how could anyone deny her?
“James…” you breathed, sudden tears beginning to pool behind your eyes. You sniffled, and he looked up in horror.
“Oh, Godric, you hate it,” he moaned, trying to pull the sketch from you.
The fact that you were still completely nude seemed long forgotten as you reached a hand up to pull his face back towards you. To make him see these were happy tears.
“This is really how you see me?” you asked, smiling softly with watery tears in your eyes.
“I can only draw what I see,” he answered.
“Oh, James,” you all but sobbed, wrapping yourself around him.
The feeling of his shirt on your bare breast was enough to shock you back into reality. Pulling back slightly, his hand on the small of your back was enough to keep you from pulling away entirely.
As if on cue, a candle on the table faded to blackness as the wax ran out. You didn’t need to look to see within seconds the rest would be out too. His eyes held you too intensely for you to look away. Reaching up, you traced his lips with a brush of the pad of your finger. As his eyes slid closed in temptation, yours fell to his sketch once more.
The woman in the drawing grinned coyly at you, her nude frame emboldening you just as the last candle burnt out, plunging a very naked you and James into complete darkness.
