moonysreid

[moonysreid]

POINT OF VIEW OF LOVE

Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry, home of ex lovers y/n l/n and remus lupin who suck at the "ex" part

Or, in which,

Everyone in hogwarts is convinced that the two of you are (still) inlove with eachother

GENRE: Fluff, slight crack fic? Second chance romance + idiots in love

PAIRING: Professor! Remus lupin x Professor! Reader

FEAT: Hermione Granger (no 1 shipper), severus snape (the most lowkey shipper), Dumbledore (the most highkey shipper), Harry potter (the most confused person in the room), ron weasly (himbo king) minerva McGonagall(da legend)

A/N: probably the longest fic I ever wrote :p. pls do reblog!!!

Surprisingly unlike most new teachers in hogwarts who often drop the school after their first year of teaching, you somehow managed to stick around

(rumours say that ever since professor slughorn, the previous potions teacher left hogwarts and snape began teaching, all teaching positions were cursed and no teacher managed to stay in hogwarts for more than one semester)

(all students believe that snape brought the curse along with his greasy hair when he began teaching in hogwarts)

(good thing you were quite good in handling curses and hexes ;>)

Perhaps because you also used to be a student in hogwarts back in the days of your youth, you knew the will of the ever changing staircases and the ways through all the hidden and not so hidden corridors

All hogwarts students are baffled when they found out that you and their professor snape used to be classmates

They could all swear on merlin's beard that they were all very sure that professor snape and professor McGonagall were of the same age!!

("bloody hell! who would have thought that nasty professor snape and our lovely miss l/n used to sit in the same classes together" -ron weasly, merely 5 seconds before getting bonked in the head by professor snape)

It's was no secret that all the students of hogwarts adored you, regardless of which house they belonged too, you had a way of weasling into even the most frigid of hearts

-

"Draco dear that wasn't very kind of you to say to neville was it?" You say with a slight frown while tutting your head at the younger blonde boy whose initial snarl was now replaced with a meek look

"Oh well cmon, I'm sure you would like to say something to Mr longbottom" you said your arms crossed while standing inbetween the two first years

Neville longbottom held his breath while he glanced to and fro from your face to draco's flushed pink ones, he swears he never ever saw draco act this way

"I guess I was mistaken to say that" the blonde boy mumbled under his breath

"A little louder draco" you pat his back, encouraging him almost

Neville gulped, feeling a trickle of sweat fall down from his forehead, the way draco was behaving right now was alot scarier than how he normally behaved, he didn't like this at all!!

"I suppose, i may have spoken slightly out of turn" Draco announced, his head held low before he quickly looks at you for your approval

"I guess I wont be telling my father about this" he nodded curtly before running away

"Thank you draco that was very kind of you" you call out as the boy runs away, red with embarrassment "Oh and Neville dear- oh my godric Neville!" You shriek

The poor boy had collapsed on the ground, perhaps the shock of the skytherin boy apologising was enough to send him to shock

-

But nevertheless, the students often wondered about your kind and sweet nature towards them, truthfully you couldn't help but be reminded of your days in hogwarts and ofcourse your dear friends, some of whose children's were now attending the school

After all, not many of your friends were still present to this day, not many of them found their so called happy ending, and yet their children still manage to find a way to smile

You wanted to protect that smile. The very same smile that used to be etched in your friends faces

It did make you feel a little old sometimes though, who knew even the snooty lucius malfoy, your senior of 4 years at hogwarts would find love and have kids

And yet here you were, still single as a Pringle, your last relationship was years ago, your last real relationship was... it was actually when you used to study in hogwarts, but that too was ages ago

You had simply given up. You had better things to do other than reminisce about your past, the past that never managed to manifested into your future

You had a lot more important things to do!

Such as conduct a quick checking in all the compartments of the hogwarts express, just to make sure that all the students are acquainted and to check up on any first years who may be facing any problems

You walk along the train, knocking on the compartments before being graced with cheerfull greetings and questions on how your holidays was

You move on to the next apartment and the next without wasting much time, much wanting to sit quietly in your own compartment as soon as possible until you heard a loud cry of terror

"Dementor! Dementor!"

You immediately rush down the train, running as fast as you could while your fingers grasped you wand tightly

Crap! You totally forgot about the new security regime being added to hogwarts

Dumbledore had written to you about it during the semester break, although you didn't quite share a positive sentiment towards the addition you also didnt really have much of a say on it

By the time you reach the compartment your relieved that damage control has already been done by who seems to be a new professor whose face was turned away, only seeing the back of his head showcasing messy light brown hair which you felt was oddly familiar

"Harry! Are you alright?" You kneel down as you try propping the boy up whose mouth was currently being shoved with chocolate

"The chocolate helps, I swear" the man says before he pauses and takes a quick deep breath

You almost take a double take, staring into the eyes of a stranger who you knew a little too well

"Y/n" remus lupin breaths out your name like its air, so naturally that you almost forget about all the missing years between the two of you

He says it so naturally that it makes you feel like he just said it yesterday, you almost don't find his face foreign as if the two of you never went your separate ways

As if the two of you never left eachother

You stiffen, you can't help it, infront of you is probably the only man you've ever loved in the entirety of your life, the very man who couldn't stay with you, the man who left you,

the very same man still looked at you the same way, as if you were as beautiful as the day he found you, as if you were as beautiful as the day he left.

"Remus" you mutter out, your eyes glued to his

there's a silent battle going on, one that only perhaps the two of you could recognise. A inner turmoil in both of your hearts

Do I love or hate the fact that you're here?

Do i embrace you or curse you're for standing infront of me?

Do you still think about me?

Did you ever think of me?

"Wh-what are you doing here?" You break away from the trance first "why are you here?"

You only halfway realise how harsh it sounds but you don't care, you didnt know whether to care, you didnt know what to feel

"Lovely seeing you too y/n, you look the same like the last time I saw you"

He says it in such a way only remus lupin could say, with so much sincerety and integrity, it makes your mouth go silent

"I heard that you were a teacher in hogwarts" he pauses "it suits you, i remember you talking about it"

Ofcourse he remembers you talking about it, you remember it too. You also remember him saying the exact same thing as he did years ago too

"It suits you"

"Thanks" you don't know how to respond, with remus lupin you never really did

"But then again, i suppose whatever you did would suit you"

The same thing again, you swear it's like he never left

"You didn't change at all" you blurt out without thinking much

Remus chuckles, an awkward warm laugh, shaking his head slightly so that his slightly curls would bounce

"I dont know whether you mean it as a compliment or not"

"You know what I mean" you say again without much of a hesitation, you catch the look in remus's eye

"I do, don't I?"

Your breath hitches, again

"Uhm professor? I mean professors?" Hermione interrupts with a slightly confused face which she tries to mask

At least she's trying to hide her confusion, the other two boys in the compartment looked as if though someone told them that Monstrose Maggie's were a better quidditch team than Holyhead Harpies

Ron especially was left with his mouth slightly opened being simply utterly baffled at what was going on,

first, their apartment was seemingly attacked by what seemed to be ghosts with ice powers,

second, ron was still trying to get over the fact that harry was passed out erstwhile shaking like a wet dog and

third, probably his favourite professor and the professor that saved his best friends life were stuck in a staring battle

You look at dazed boy sitting on the floor, remembering what had happened "Oh harry! Sit up, sit up"

Remus moves towards the bestecked boy, brushing against you as he helps harry sit on the seat of his compartment.

He groans slightly as he stands up, you throw a quick glance at him before turning your attention to the three teenagers

"Are you three alright? Harry? still feeling a little woozy?" You ask while remus breaks another piece of chocolate handing it to him "munch one, cmon"

"Erm yes" Harry takes the piece of chocolate "thanks- professor er" he looks at remus

"Professor lupin-" "the names lupin-" both you and remus say in the same time, before turning to look at eachother resulting in you quickly turning your head away

The three teenagers watch curiously (hermione) confused (harry) totally completely befuddled(ron)

"You haven't changed at all too y/n" remus says, half amused, and half of what almost seemed like relief

"Well, there's a limit to how much a person can change in a span of only a few years" that might cut a little deeper than intended, but remus's face looks like he understands where you were coming from

"Sorry i-" you begin, feeling a little guilty. wringing your hands "it's great seeing you..its been ages. I guess i just wasnt expecting to see you"

Remus smiles, his eyes crinkling while he did so, lines forming near his eyes which weren't there from the years in which you remembered him from

Godrick, it really has been a long time

"I know" he says in a all knowing tone that somehow didnt seem arrogant or conceited at all, you kind of missed it "I should have written you a letter or something"

"Yea" you blink "or something"

It was at this point when you realise that it wasnt only the two of you in the compartment, there was 3 other teenagers who were gawking and trying their best to make a connection between you and the other man who still remained quite unknown to them

"Uhm right" you turn away from remus, slight pink tinting your cheeks

Remus also seemed to realise this, shoving his wand into his pocket

"I better go check on all the other compartments, just in case" he says while moving out of the compartment

"Yes! You do that" you don't look at him, not quite

"Hey y/n?"

"Hm?" You turn to him, hands fiddling with eachother

"I'll talk to you soon?"

The same brown hair, same brown eyes, a coat that seemed a little too old to still be worn, the same sturdy ebony wand, and a older version of the same scarred face you often wondered about

You nodd

"Talk to you soon"

-

"What in the good name of gandalf was all that about?" Ron says appalled, as if though he just witness a crime worthy of a death penalty

Harry shrugged while nibbling on the rather large piece of chocolate in his hands

It had been a while after both you and Professor lupin or whoever he was left their compartment, albeit professor lupin looking a little ditzy after seeing you and your face being tinted a faint shade of pink

"I swear on my life" Ron points at scabbers, the old dirty rat that seemed way too scared for an animal who was safely locked up in his cage

"I swear on scabbers life! I have never seen professor l/n act like that"

Hermione rolled her eyes, scoffing

Are boys really this dense?

Harry and ron turn to her expectantly

"Well?" Harry asked

"Isn't it quite obvious?" Hermione folded her arms, her hair tossing behind her as she did so "it's so completly obvious! It literally happened infront of your eyes"

"What did? All I saw was two adults staring at eachother for like 30 minutes straight" Ron said raising his hands

"I mean" Harry added "30 minutes might be a bit of a stretch-"

"Honestly!" Hermione interjected loudly "don't you two get it?"

"Get what?"

Hermione finally losing her patience, bend down slightly, in hushed whispers, turning to see if anyone else was around, as she hissed into the ears of the two boys

"Oh" Harry blinked, unsure of what he was suppose to do with such information "Oh well, er" he looks at ron "I dont think davies is gonna take this news well"

"Poor guy" Ron announced with a rather sad face "Roger Davies is gonna lose his shit if he hears about this" shaking his head sympathetically "bluds got a bloody massive crush on professor l/n yknow"

"....ew"

-

Hermione granger was the brightest witch of her age. She wasn't bragging about her intelligence or wit, it was merely just a fact

She knew all the ingredients needed to brew the draught of living death, she memorized all the steps needed to brew the draught of peace

She studied all the uses of the mandrake root, she knew the uses of a bezeor and where to find one

She likes to be sure of what she knows, so sure that she can bet on it, she knows what's right and what's wrong, she can swear on what she knows and what she doesn't.

And Hermione Granger swears that her DADA professor and her astronomy teacher were inlove with eachother, she was so very positive about it

She had read alot about love, watched movies about love (please don't ask her to explain how a movie works, she already explained it thrice to Mr weasly)

she saw love in her parents whenever they talked with eachother, she saw love in the way molly weasly would reprimand her husband back when she spend the holidays in the burrow

She was the brightest witch of her age and she swears, that professor Remus lupin was (rather tragically) inlove with professor y/n l/n.

-

"Professor" hermione raised her hand up in an instant, rather proudly too, she knew the answer to your question almost perfectly

You nodd, urging her to speak

"Sirius is the brightest star in the night sky, its name deriving from the greek word which means scorching or glowing"

"Yes well done miss granger" you signal her to sit down "five points to gryffindor"

"Next class we will be charting and mapping some major constellations present in the northern hemisphere while using the help of sirius" you announce to your students "your all excused to go to your next class"

Immediately all students rush out, most of them grabbing their things in a hurry and running down

"Why is the astronomy tower at the top of the building and the potions classroom all the way in the dungeons?" Seamus finnigun huffed to his friend dean who nodded earnestly

"Snape would do anything to find something to pick on, cmon we don't wanna be late!"

Hermione lingered a few seconds, hiding behind the door as all the students fled downstairs, getting ready to use her time turner when suddenly,

"'Busy?" A deep voice came

You look at the tall man standing awkwardly at the door, you can't help but stiffle a laugh

"What are you doing? Standing about just like that?"

Remus scratches the back of his head while he comes into your classroom, rather carefully too as if he was worried he would break something

"Library" remus responds to your question with a slight swagger as Hermione listened intently from behind the wall

She knows she shouldn't listen, its bad to eavesdrop on other people's conversation, what would her mother say? But after what she witnessed on the train? She couldn't possibly miss out on this

"Library?" You question with a upside down smile "it's been ages since you've been to hogwarts and you still choose to hang out in the library?"

So hermione's hunch was right after all. You both did know eachother when the two of you were younger

"Well, its not like i hung out in the library alone you know" remus quipped quickly, you almost smile

"You can't teach an old dog new tricks y/n" remus says it so casually, it makes you look up to him, for a split second there was a sense of recognition inbetween the two of you

You cough, "but still.. hanging out in the library? I guess your still a nerd"

Remus raises his eyebrows "a nerd? Excuse me but I'm not the one here teaching astronomy" a smirk plays on his lips

You gasp in fake offense while remus raises his hands up in surrender "I apologise, too harsh?"

"Way too harsh Mr lupin"

The both of you crack into soft smiles and longing looks, Hermione could have sworn that if this were one of those "muggle' movies her mom and her used to watch back at home, there would be "kiss me" by sixpence none the ritcher playing in the background

"It really has been very long remmy"

Hermione's mouth forms an o shape

'Remmy' huh? Already on nickname basis are we?

"It has been quite some time y/n"

Cmon professor! Up your game a little!

"Is that all you have to say to me? After all this time?" You don't look away, your eyes piercing through remus, making him feel seen, too seen

"I- I've got too much to say" remus confessed "too little words to use"

You purse your lips, looking down on the parchment of paper on your desk

"Do you think you'll always have too little words to say? You don't have any words to spare me for now?"

His lips part, slightly open, remus realises that his sweather is quite worn out, there's a certain itch that won't go away, the colour a little too washed away, the strands fraying away at the hem of his sleeve

He has thought about this very moment for a very long time, almost every night, every day. Practicing what he should tell you, how to tell you

And yet he doesn't say anything, he cannot.

The lump in his throat is far too big to swallow, the pain in his chest pulsating through each and every vein present in his body

He fears if he opens his mout, he might swallow you whole, selfish and angry and dangerous. All things you were not, all the things you didjt deserve.

He wasn't safe to be around, his edges too sharp to be able to curve around and you were too kind to know better

The silence is overwhelming, slightly, like water droplets falling on an already filled cup

Hermione questions herself, for the first time.

Perhaps she is wrong, perhaps the two of you aren't inlove. Maybe the two of you once were and maybe that's all it was. Ashes of the past, remains of what once was

Instead, Remus walks next to you, wordlessly, quietly, and yet his actions remains defeaning against the silence that seemed to engulf the two of you

You snort, you can't help it

"Hey, you do realise we can use magic right? I don't need your help carrying those things down"

Remus nevertheless picks up a box of telescopes and other tools "we both know you were going to carry these by hand" he stated with certainty, giving you a knowing look

You resort the urge to roll your eyes

"You know me that well?" There's a slight challenge in your voice

"No, i know you enough" remus says softly, as if that itself was a sin for him to commit "im afraid that i might like to know you even more"

Silence. The wind blows, the pale blue curtains flowing as the charms hanging on the roof play a soft chime

Your unsure of what to say, how to react, the truth was painfull. But it was the truth

Finally you whisper back

"im afraid I might end up letting you"

-

Hermione quickly shuffles with her time turner, she has already wasted so much time listening to a conversation that wasn't even hers to listen but she ends up hoping for one thing

She hopes to find someone who would look at her the way remus lupin looked at you

-

Severus snape had his reasons for disliking remus lupin, you knew them too and like the decent person he knew you were, you respected his choice.

He guesses your fine, better than most actually, he doesn't like you or anything don't get him wrong.

Even back in his student days he never really talked to you much, lest it was you greeting him goodmorning whenever the two of you had classes together

But he guesses that he doesn't dislike you, your alright, your one of the few decent people that he knew in hogwarts. He doesn't mind you that much

Which is exactly why he didn't approve of remus lupin,

Perhaps back then he wouldn't have cared as much as he did now (don't get him wrong, he doesn't care about you)

but he supposes that you could do much better (he doesn't really have a valid reason he just doesn't like remus that much... again for certain specific reason)

"Lupin" severus cannot help but sneer a little as he says the name, greeting an old not very comforting face

"severus" remus nodds in acknowledgement, walking inside the potionmasters room "I suppose you know why im here"

"I do" severus rummages about to find a bottle, handing it, the air was always tense between the two, but it felt thicker tonight

"I'm surprise you came back" severus interrupts the silence "im surprised you came back at all"

Remus stops, thinking for a while "you do realise that i could say the same thing to you? Hogwarts is the last place i imagined you working"

Severus frowns, looking up at the scarred man standing infront of him

"Does she know?"

Remus stiffen for a second before answering "Yes, I suppose she does"

"Ah" severus announces like it was nothing a big of a shock "I suppose the two of you were always... close"

"What are you trying to instigate here severus?" remus snaps before stopping himself "i apolagise- i didn't mean to"

Severus shakes his head, stopping remus "the full moon is awfully close, i suggest you take care of yourself and those around you" carefully using his words

Remus stared at the bottle of Wolfsbane in his hand before placing it on the table with a thud, snape raised an eyebrow

"I never wanted her to know" remus says bitterly "it was never her burden to share, no one's burden but mine"

Severus clicks his tongue

"I almost didn't come back, i never planned to come back to hogwarts"

"Then what made you" curiosity got the better of the sneering man

Remus looked down, he let out a pathetic excuse of a chuckle "I guess I simply wanted to see her. I wondered if she ever thought about me too"

Snape doesnt say anything at first

"How pitifull' snape muttered while he moving around his room, his cloak swooshing alongst each movement

"Yes" remus murmers "I suppose so"

"Your a miserable excuse tonight lupin" severus gave a brief look towards the man infront of him "I suggest you get some rest"

"I suppose I am rather miserable tonight" remus throws his head back "the upcoming full moon is making me act strange, look at me confiding such matters to you"

Severus merely grunts

"I apologise severus, something has gotten into me tonight"

"Theres no need to do such things lupin, simply show yourself out"

Remus thanks him for the wolfsbane once more before heading out

"Professor lupin, before you go"

Remus turned around, the eye bags around his eyes much deeper than usual, his posture slightly more bend than usual

"Regarding miss L/n...im sure she thought fondly of you too, much more than you realise" Snape coughs "that is all, goodnight" slamming the door shut.

Severus walked away from the door, wondering what was wrong with him that night, what made him say such things to remus lupin of all people but ah, alas he had forgotten, the two shared one thing in common

They were both miserable,

both miserable, pitiful and pathetic for the love that they once had

Oh yes, they both loved and were loved

-

Now,

if you ask albus dumbledore, headmaster of hogwarts for many years now and counting, whether it was correct to place bets on his students than he would respond to you with a slight chuckle

Of course it was a little incorrect, but then again, he hadn't won a bet in years and he was dying to prove Minerva McGonagall wrong

"I'm telling you albus" the older women pulled down her glasses, giving a withering look at the bearded wizard "im afraid we might be getting too old with this"

"Minerva, afraid that I might break your winning streak after all?" Came the reply, his blue eyes twinkling

Minerva McGonagall frowned "you may be one of the most famous wizard of your age albus but you are hardly capable of placing correct bets"

Minerva knew that she was right.

She had been winning all the bets with Dumbledore for the past many years, successfully guessing and pairing students up.

She placed a bet on Molly and Arthur Weasly when they were once students at hogwarts,

she even predicted James Potter and Lily Evans budding romance (although she was a little worried when lily Evans refused to give in, luckily there was a turn of event in their seventh year much to Dumbledore's dismay)

She may not be the most famous wizard of her age unlike her counterpart, but she did rather have a good hunch when it came to romance (just keep that information between her and albus though)

"Well then" Minerva gave in, rather easily too "is this about your wager on Mr potter again?"

Albus shaked his head "no, it isn't, although I am immensely confident about mister potter and miss granger"

Minerva held back a scoff "Oh yes, you'll see soon that miss granger and mister potter aren't nothing more than friends, it baffles me albus! How your the smartest wizard of all time and yet you can't see that your bet should be on ms granger and mr weasly!!"

"I will not argue with you about this matter minerva" albus quickly said

"Well, atleast you didnt place your wager on ms granger and mr malfoy" Minerva tutted "what on merlin's beard is slughorn on i wonder"

"Minerva thats not the point, im talking regarding our miss y/n l/n and-"

"Remus lupin" McGonagall finished the sentence "Well theres no point on placing a bet on them, its obvious the two are made for eachother"

"Er- Oh well I was actually gonna say-"

Minerva deadpanned "Who were you going to say other than professor lupin albus?"

"Oh well of course" albus continued, hiding the fact that he was slightly flustered "our dear severus of course!"

A loud laugh escaped Minerva's lips, leaving the much older wizard slightly dumbfounded

"Oh albus" the woman wipes a tear away, a thin smile etched on her lips as she patted the headmaster

"I hope you prepared to lose you bet once again"

-

Albus Dumbledore usually never second guessed himself, he was sure of his words, his plans and especially, his bets (even though he has been in a losing streak for the past 50 years)

But after seeing such confidence in Minerva McGonagall, he was now rethinking every single thing he had witnessed so far

He was sure, absolutely positive that there was something going on between you and severus.

You seemed to be the only person severus tolerated,

Whenever you wished him goodmorning, he would always respond you back cordially

Amd albus is pretty sure that you served the boil peas to severus and not to remus lupin today during dinner tonight,

that has to mean something right??

Roaming around the school after hours was not a new thing to the old wizard, walking around the corridors and hallways as the stars glistened over head

He hears a muffled voice, continued with what seemed to be a rather private, almost confidential meet up

Noticing you and remus standing across eachother, the space between the two of you negligible

Well !!

It's none of his business, dumbledore guesses and that he has no reason to pry on such a conversation

And yet he found himself standing quietly from a distance rather much too invested in such private affairs

After all curiosity was his biggest trait

(Please forgive the old man, he simply wants to win a bet after such a long time)

"You left your lesson plans, again" you say, shaking them slightly "quite unlike you actually"

"I was coming to get them" remus waits "what makes you say that?"

"I might have thought that you left them on purpose" albus watches you shrug,

"What if I did?"

Ah!, realisation hits albus. Perhaps Minerva was right once again

"We've got to stop meeting like this, it might give the wrong impression"

"And what impression exactly are we giving?" Remus's voice rings in your ear, almost haughty

You attempt to glare at remus although your efforts are in vain as there in no heat behind it. Remus knows it too, he has a soft grin on his face

You turn to leave, exhaling slightly just before remus says, too casually "you still do that same thing with your nose when your annoyed"

You stop midstep.

"You scrunch them a little before you look away, just like back then"

For a moment neither of you speak

"And you still hate boiled peas"

Dumbledore silently comforted himself after the loss of another bet, perhaps he should stop placing bets with Minerva

"You still look after me" remus tilts his head "perhaps giving the wrong impression?"

You groan, despite the warmth in your eyes and the smile that struggled to escape "your impossible"

Remus softly shakes his head, your eyes plastered on him "your collar is still crooked, do i have to fix it?"

Remus's hands fly to his collar,

You glance up to the man you once knew, feeling all to familiar to him once again

Albus watches as you hold remus's collar in the most gentle way possible, as if though he were a precious glass doll that you were afraid of scarring.

Remus finds it a little ironic

Your fingers delicately moving alongst the nape of his neck while he muttered something to you

Your simply standing there, he's not stopping you in any sense at all, watching him with an insufferable fond look that albus remembers from back in your days as students

Why hadn't he noticed this before?

"I would have thought that you'd learn how to do your collar properly by now" you huffed, the tall man leaned in closer to you, for your comfort and ease

"I guess I got used to you fixing it for me"

You hum "you hate people touching you"

Remus lupin looks at you, a slight smile playing on his face "i suppose that makes you the exception"

Albus holds back his gasp

You sigh while finishing adjusting his collar, breaking away from him

"You're quite literally impossible"

Remus chuckles, his eyes never breaking away from yours "you like it, you still do"

"You" you point your finger at the tall man "are quite frankly delusion, might i suggest a visit st mungoes and check your head"

Remus takes a step closer, he's grinning, it makes him look younger, you think,

"Am I? Delusional?"

Albus feels like bursting out of his hiding spot, feeling like a quidditch commenter watching the most highly anticipated quidditch match of all time

But then- you laugh, its small, a little reluctant but a real laugh. And instead of walking away you simply look at remus with the same softness that has always been there since your hogwarts days

Albus turns his head away, giving the two of you space, deciding that he had seen enough

He wonders why in the world did he not catch it before, were his hunches always this bad?

"Well?" A flat voice came from a corner, Dumbledore couldn't help but chuckle knowing all too well who it was

"Minerva!" Albus smiled "I was hoping to bump into you"

The grey tabby cat transformed into a frowning women with a "I told you so" look on her face

Albus sighs "I believe you have won the bet once again"

The women suppresses a smile "Yes, I believe so too"

"Am I really that dense Minerva?"

Giving the older wizard a scathing look "im afraid so professor"

"Oh...but rather refreshing to see young love blossom in our very halls is it not?" Albus dumbledore says with a satisfied look on his face

"I hope they would atleast pretend to not be too distracted with their work" Minerva remarked

"Oh minerva" albus tutted "Have you never been in love before?"

Minerva McGonagall threw a look at the headmaster

"Now all we must do is wait for the inevitable" albus proudly said "I should begin drafting a speech for their wedding should I not?"

Minerva sighs shaking her head, her voice wavering but she knew better to discourage Dumbledore "Oh yes professor, you do that"

Dumbledore gleams while walking back up to his office, he may have lost the bet but he was a sucker for happy ending, especially for his students

"Oh Minerva!" Did I ever mention?"

Dumbledore calls the tall women before he goes up into his office

"Mention what professor?"

The wizard gleams, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes, Minerva wasnt sure if she was going to like what she was about to hear

"I once placed a bet on you and tom riddle back when you were a student here"

Minerva McGonagall paused, not even blinking, not even breathing

Dumbledore chuckle "Oh well, let's just hope for the best for miss y/n and mr remus lupin shall we?"

(A few hours later, filch recieves the fright of his life when he finds professor McGonagall is still standing in the hallway frozen)

-

When your called into dumbledores office in the middle of the night, the last thing you expect is to see the convicted felon sirius black and a tired, freshly scarred remus lupin

After Dumbledore filled you in with the recent events that took place and after the sirius was safely escorted to much safer place,

you found your arms resting on remus whose body remained slumped on a bed in the infirmary

The hospital wing was dimply lighted, madam pomfrey busy tending to the three teenagers (harry, ron and hermione) leaving you with the scarred man

Your eyes wander around his body which was covered in bruises, cuts, scars and a deep gash along his side from his recent turning.

You tend to his wounds, your hands shaking slightly while you moved with precision and a look of gentleness in your eyes which remus did not missed

"It might sting a little" you warn, while dabbing the cotten pad soaked in antiseptic to his cheek

Remus flinched slightly but does not move nor say anything, only nods slightly.

He had always been like this- quiet, composed and never one to complain. But you could feel the tension in him, the way his shoulders stayed rigid under your touch, the way his eyes darted around you, looking at you everywhere but at your eyes

"It doesn't hurt?" You ask in an attempt to lighten the mood but your voice wavers just enough to betray your feelings

Remus notices it without missing a beat, his body softening on hearing the vulnerability in your voice

It's all for him, it's all because of him

"It's not the cut that hurts y/n. It's the fact that yours still the one tending to them even after all these years"

You still for a moment- memories of late night study sessions and hushed conversations. You tending to his scars at midnight after every turning while the rest of the marauders watched with a knowing smirk.

Memories of the past seemed to dance infront of your eyes, flickering like candles and flittering like ghosts.

The quiet estrangement between you and remus, the way the two of you parted ways so easily- but here he was. So close to you, yet you have never felt further from him

"Maybe some things don't change" your murmer under your breath, your fingers brushing against his skin for longer than necessary

Remus smiles, its a wistful and rather melancholy smile

The both of you felt the weight of all the unsaid words between the two of you, it lingered liked the fog on a misty morning, just like the lingering glance remus always gave to you

"It's not that bad you know" remus mutters "your looking at me like I'm going to drop dead"

His voice is rough , deep and slightly slurred, still recovering from from the disorientation from his shift, he keeps his eyes closed, though his sharp breathing tells you that the pain is no less than real

You look up, a small frown tugging your lips "you always say that, but here you are, covered in cuts and scars" your tone is light but theres a hidden edge of concern that was undiscernable

Remus chuckles softly, though the sound is strained "i'm alot tougher than i look, have a little faith in me won't you?"

Your fingers linger around his face, your touch soft, slightly cold against his flushed hot blooded self.

Remus tenses from your touch, but relaxes almost immediately. You can tell he's holding back more than just the pain, you just didn't know what.

"I could have helped you, i was always willing to help you, you know that don't you?" Your voice betrays all the concern and worry you had been holding back, your voice breaking,

Remus doesnt meet your eyes, not at first, his expression distant and struggling to find the words

"I didn't want to hurt anyone" he finally says, "especially you, i never want to hurt you"

"I know" you whisper gently, your hands move towards his "but that doesn't mean you have to do it alone"

For a moment he remains silent, it makes you think whether he even heard you at all. His fingers curl into the edge of the cot, jaws clenched tight.

But then he moves his hands towards yours too, slowly, hesitantly, almost scared.

But he missed it, he missed your touch all too much to no longer deny it. He missed you

"I dont want to hurt you" he repeats again like a confession. His voice fragile and vulnerable

You look at him, the weight of his gaze holding you in place before you finally utterly "you won't"

Your afraid remus would pull away, push you away, retreat back but he doesnt.

He let's you finish bandaging him, let's you hold him, letting you do what you've always done, even when the two of you were no longer together: care for him

And even when your done he doesn't pull away, you meet his eyes again, once again feeling the weight of all the unsaid words

"I'm scary" his voice is barely a whisper "and dangerous, and frightening. You don't deserve to go through all of that"

You smile faintly, leaning towards him, brushing against lock of his his hair away from his face

"Remus lupin, you eat your toast burned to crisps, you have your coffee so black im convince your taste buds are dead, you have memorized lines from random horrible plays I have never heard of before"

your hands holds his face with utmost care

"Trust me" you smile, your tone teasing if not for the warmth in your voice "you couldn't scare me even if you try"

For a brief moment theres nothing but the sound of breathing, two people who had never really let eachother go. Though remus doesnt say it, the way his hands holds your waist, and the way he looks at you, speaks louder than words ever could

"Next time, let me help you"

A smile tugs on remus's lips, twitching in a rare crooked smile "ill try to remember that"

"And don't leave, i dont think i can bear it if you disappear from me twice" you whisper

"I wont be able to stay away for long even if I tried" remus whispered back like a solemn vow "I'll always come for you, ill always find my way to you"

Your hands still linger on one another, gazes still intact, though no words are exchange it is not necessary, the soft smiles tugging both your lips are enough

For the first time in years, it feels like the two of you are on the same side once again.

-

"Hand me the galleons you owe me albus" Minerva reaches her hand out, an eyebrow raised

"Oh Minerva, must we hurry? I'm well aware you won the bet but-"

Minerva McGonagall cleared her throat loud and clear

Severus snape rolled his eyes and sighed, muttering under his breath about "childish behavior"

Albus dumbledore sulked "im going to go bankrupt if this keeps on going on"

Minerva suppressed her smile, despite feeling proud of her achievement "do you still want to go on with the bets albus? Unless your afraid of losing once more"

Severus frowned "must you encourage such behavior professor McGonagall?"

"I'll win the next bet, just you wait and see minerva" Dumbledore said, despite his initial complain, repeating what he had been saying every time for the past 50 years since he had been losing

"mr cedric diggory and ms cho chang" Minerva announced her next bet, folding her arms, her head held high

Albus watched with a broad grin "Minerva, i might have to prove you wrong there!"

Minerva watched with eyebrows raised

"It's obviously ms cho chang and mr roger davies"

"Oh dear" severus groaned

Minerva covered her mouth, turning away to laugh, confident that she had won before it even begun while albus dumbledore began listing the reason for his belief

"Mr Roger Davies and ms cho chang were practicing quidditch together and may I mention that it seemed a rather private meet up with only the two of them-"

"Isn't mr Davies the captain of the ravenclaw quidditch team and ms chang the seeker of the quidditch team?" Severus reminded the older wizard

"Yes but severus your missing the point-"

Severus Snape raised his hand, he had heard enough, pinching the bride of his nose he excused himself, he had better things to do than involve himself in such trivial childish matters, especially those that involved the life of silly hormonal teenagers

He walked out with a whoosh of his cloak, seemingly ready to slam the door, just when-

"My bet is with minerva" he curtly announced before promptly slamming the door shut

[moonysreid]

I am so normal about this (lie)

[moonysreid]

“moony” your voice drags out his name into the almost empty common room

if it were anyone else, the brunet boy probably wouldn’t do so much as lift his gaze from his book

however, his smile peeks over the top of his copy of the hobbit “dove”

…

[moonysreid]

OH MY GOD!!!! YOU'RE ACTIVE!!!!

yeahhhh!! as my time became more occupied i lost my motivation for writing

kinda sad icl so i tend to just browse lmao

but every now and then i try to get back into writing

[moonysreid]

Literally thought you disappeared on Wattpad then I saw your bio and you mentioned you’re active on here I was like omg 😭😭 random but HIIII

OMG HIII

my wattpad fixation did very much burn out when i had less and less time to write :(

[moonysreid]

couldn’t pick just a few recs so here’s them all at once!

Masterlist:

(requests are currently open!) please read my guidelines before submitting a request! ~I don't always work very fast - please keep this in mind~

Sirius Black Remus Lupin James Potter Regulus Black Barty Crouch Jr

Finnick Odair

Poly!Marauders Poly!Wolfstar Poly!Moonwater

Other Ships Extras NSFW (18+ only)

🔔if you would simply like to read my latest works without sifting through my blog, all of my works are tagged with “ellecdc fics”, so if you put that in the search bar on my blog, you will see all of my fics newest to oldest 🥰

[moonysreid]

Just re-watched the prison Reid arc and whew! Can I request post prison Reid getting to meet his new baby for the first time with a civilian reader? Like he was arrested while reader was still pregnant and she gave birth right before he got out? Maybe have a Diana cameo cause I just love her🤭

ty for requesting! fem, 1.6k

“Do you want me to take him?” 

You give Diane a grateful smile. “Is that okay?” 

Diane is reedy like Spencer, tall and skinny, but strong, too. She treads the carpet in her moccasins and holds out her arms for the baby, shushing him softly as you pass him over. You’ve had to look after her these last few weeks in a way you weren’t prepared for, but she’s looked after you in turn.

She’s almost completely lucid today. The good news has its hooks in her. 

You look out of the window again. The baby coughs in Diane’s arms, a clearing sound after feeding. If she’s gentle with him he’ll fall asleep before Spencer gets home. You aren’t sure what to do, let him sleep or wake him. What would Spencer want? 

I want to come home, he’d said, choked up over the phone, so badly. I’m so sorry. 

“Are you sure you won’t call him Walter?” Diane asks. “Spencer likes that one.” 

“I’m sure, Diane. He liked Jasper, so…” You bite the tip of your tongue until it aches, refusing to cry again. “So I went with Jasper. I hope he doesn’t mind.” 

That morning when Emily told you he was coming home, you cried like you’ve never, ever cried. So hard that Jasper woke up in his cot across the room and cried with you. 

You’d cried a lot after Spencer was arrested, and worse when he was imprisoned. You cried like a baby the day you went into labour because you knew you’d have to do it alone, when Spencer promised he’d be there with you, that you wouldn’t have to do any of the scary parts alone. 

It didn’t take long to stop. You’d grabbed Jasper with your cheeks soaked in tears and rubbed his back, that small stretch of warmth under your hand like a lifeline. In a way, Jasper being Spencer’s has made this easier. You’ve had a part of him. It just wasn’t enough to get over missing him. Every bit of joy —you have a baby now, your beautiful boy— has been swiftly followed with an aching sort of grief. Spencer missed his first cry, first bath, the very first time he opened his eyes. You can’t go back. 

“They said three.” 

Diane doesn’t seem concerned. She’s missed Spencer as much as you have, and you know her worry for him has made her more poorly than she’d otherwise be most days, but the baby helps. “I’m gonna find his bear,” she says. 

You bend down, trying to see the corner of the street through the window. Then you remember the last time you left Diane alone in the kitchen and flinch. “Hey, Diane?” you call. 

She’s checking the drawers for the bear. You’re not sure why she thinks the bear would be there, but perhaps that’s where she put it. “Can I make you a cup of tea or something?” you ask her. 

“You’re spying on me.” 

“Spying implies you don’t know what I’m doing.” 

She pats the baby’s back. “I can see why you and Spencer get along.” 

It’s a little more than getting along. 

Diane finds Jasper’s bear atop the bread bin, sitting at the kitchen table with him, the bear sat across from him, though Jasper’s already sleeping again. 

You put the stovetop kettle on to boil and realise with a start that you can make Spencer a cup of tea at the same time. Your smile is unfailing, then. He really is coming home. The kettle begins whining while you recover his favourite mug from the cabinet, untouched the entire time he was gone. 

“How many sugars today, Diane?” you ask. 

“Was that the door?” 

“What?” You’re putting the mug down before you can compute. 

“Angel?” 

You feel a rush of emotion all over at the sound of his voice. You try to call back to him, but you don’t manage anything more than a catching gasp as you push out of the kitchen and find him at the door. Right there at the end of the hall. 

Pale, tall. Arms already opening, half a step as you run at him. He doesn’t complain when your chest knocks against his. He doesn’t say anything at all. 

“Hi,” you breathe, pressing your nose to his shoulder. Your eyes stay open —it’s like panic without the fear. He’s really here in your arms. 

He squeezes you tightly. So tight you can’t breathe for a second. Then he gentles, his hands rubbing up and down your back out of sync, face falling into yours. 

In the kitchen, Jasper makes a croaky crying sound, a stirring Diane calms immediately. 

You attempt to pull away. Spencer will want to see Jasper, of course. He hadn’t met his own son. It was all he could talk about for weeks before he went away, and yet—

Spencer just rubs your back. After another half a minute like that, he asks, “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah.” You clear your throat.

“Yeah? No one would tell me anything specific, I was worried you might not be alright.” 

“Everything went fine.” He holds you to his chest. He smells like cheap soap. “I didn’t– it was really okay. He was easy, like he knew I couldn’t handle any complications.” 

“And he–?”

You recognise the undercurrent in his voice. It’s the same thing you felt when they put Jasper on your chest for the first time. “He’s perfect.”

“All ten fingers?” 

You pull away. Immediately, Spencer’s taking your face into two hands, his eyes pouring into yours with an intensity that worries you. “He has all his fingers and toes,” you say quietly, “how about you? How’s your leg?” 

He doesn’t seem to be able to answer. Jasper makes another noise and Diane’s chair creaks. You turn with Spencer’s hand on your side, watching as Diane brings Jasper to the door. 

“Spencer,” Diane says, like she just saw him yesterday, “you’re late.” 

“Sorry, mom.” 

He always sounds younger when he talks to her. 

“Will you take the baby? I was just making some tea,” she says. 

Spencer nods but doesn’t move. 

“I’ll take him.” You kiss Spencer on the cheek. Remember you haven’t for weeks and kiss him again. “It’s okay.” 

You hold your arms out and take Jasper against your chest. Spencer takes a hesitant step forward, stops, hesitating, but when you turn to him with a comforting smile the band holding him back snaps. He crosses the room, breath pulled like he’d stopped as he cranes his head to see his baby. 

“Three weeks old today,” you say softly, tipping Jasper back so Spencer can see his face. “He missed his daddy, you know.” 

“You can’t know that.” 

“Of course I can. I’m his mom, Spencer… And who wouldn’t miss you?”

Spencer shakes his head gently, reaching out to caress Jasper’s full cheek. 

“Jasper,” Spencer says. 

“He’s been a great baby so far. Doesn’t give me much trouble. He cries all night, of course… but all babies do. He goes down after a while. I’ve–” You swallow the heat of missing Spencer like a barb dragging against the inside of your throat. “Told him you’re coming home. I told him every day, I promise.” 

“M’sorry,” he says, pained. 

“I know, Spence.” You nudge him. “Time to hold him, honey.” 

He’s more eager than you thought. It’s almost like he’s worried you won’t let him have the baby, but it’s like you told him on the phone: Spencer made a stupid mistake, and you still love him. He never should’ve been going back and forth like that, but you get why he did. Wouldn’t you want Jasper, one day, to care about you in the same way Spencer loves his mother? You forgave him the moment he apologised. 

“It’s alright,” you say, slotting Jasper from your arms to his, guiding his hand behind Jasper’s delicate neck. “Just hold him. He missed you.” 

Spencer sniffles. “I missed him too,” he says. 

“I know.” 

Diane realises eventually that Spencer being home is a big deal. It’s not her fault, not understanding, but the new baby, her relocation again, her nurse barely gone, and Spencer’s sudden homecoming, it’s probably too much to deal with. She finds you, Spencer, and Jasper on the couch in the living room and frowns at him heartily. “You won’t hug your own mother?” she asks.

“You’ll have to hug me around the baby,” he says, sorry. 

Diane agrees to this without fuss. She caresses his cheek as he’d done for Jasper as she pulls away. 

“Thank you for helping out, mom,” he says. 

“It was all Y/N, Spencer. You know mothers. We’re strong.” 

Spencer looks at Jasper, still sleeping, and then to you, a shade of adoring in his eyes you’ve never seen before. “I know,” he says. 

You curl into his side and take a breath. For the first time in weeks, you let your body relax, finding it sorer and angrier than you’d left it the last time you had the chance to check in. 

Spencer brings the side of your face to his lips to kiss your weary cheek. 

[moonysreid]

“remembering you is more than half of remembering himself”

i’m melting.

𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Spencer gets a bad bout of amnesia. Or, your boyfriend forgets he’s your boyfriend, but he still has a crush on you. [3k]

c: fem, bombshell!reader, head injury, hospitals, amnesia, fluff, spencer can’t believe he bagged you, requested here 

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚⋆

Spencer wakes to an empty room. 

He lays on a pillow too flat, neck twinging, the back of his eyes throbbing when he moves them.

He takes a deep breath. He struggles to breath through his nose and lets his mouth open for a few big, achy breaths, his mouth dry like he’s been sucking on cotton balls. 

Spencer’s alarmed, without a clue what it is he’s done. He wonders where Gideon is, if the older man came to see him yet. He hopes somebody told his mom he’s okay. 

Maybe Hotch will come to see him. He and Hotch have grown closer while Gideon was on his mandated recovery time; Gideon spends less time in the office now, sticking to lectures, seminars and consults, while Hotch, Morgan and Spencer handle the away cases. Spencer might go as far as to say Hotch likes him. And Morgan can tolerate him now, less grudging when Spencer offers a random fact or statistic to further the case. 

A stab of pain at the back of his head makes itself known.

Spencer doesn’t want to move, but he needs to assess things. He frowns at his arms, naked as they are. His silver watch is missing. A t-shirt that he doesn’t remember buying stretches over his chest. What state are they in, and who dressed him? 

He’s scowling at the window with it’s wide-open blinds and all the sun when the door opens. 

You’re looking at the bags on your arm as you come in. Spencer startles in his blankets —what are you doing here?  Agent L/N, Morgan’s friend and a candidate for the open position on the BAU team. You’re from the Sex Crimes Unit, like Greenaway. 

Spencer flusters every time he sees you, not just because of how kind you’d been the first time you met, or even the easy flirtation you send his way when you cross paths. It’s because you’re possibly the prettiest woman he’s ever met. It’s better when you notice he’s awake and light up like he’s the winning numbers for tonight’s lottery pull. Everything about you illuminates. 

“Hey, babe!” you say, not not yelling as you drop your bags in the seat by the bed and reach for him.

He doesn’t think to move away as you take his face into your hands.

“I’m so glad you’re finally awake, you almost slept for the full twenty four hours.” Your hands are soft. They smell like neroli. When you stroke his cheek and lean down to give him a chaste peck, he almost passes out there and then. “It's a good thing, obviously,” you say, and then kiss him again distractedly. “You heal more when you’re asleep. Or so I’ve heard.” 

You pull away. You have such a nice mouth, but Spencer’s never thought about what it might feel like on his. He doesn’t have the audacity: in what world would you ever kiss him? That’s the joke, right, when you flirt with him in the office? It’s funny because you’d never date him. 

“How are you feeling?” you ask, losing some of your pep. “How’s your head, handsome? You know, there are easier ways to get a haircut.” 

“They cut my hair?” he croaks. 

“Shaved it at the back to stitch you up. Not much, don’t worry. They were pushing for a buzz cut but I put my foot down on that one,” you joke. You nudge his legs aside without worrying about sitting on him as you get comfortable. “It’s not much. You can’t tell.”

“I…” 

“You feeling okay?” you ask softly. Your nice mouth purses. Your eyebrows pinch. They’re cute eyebrows. 

“You look different than the last time I saw you.” 

He doesn’t mean to say it aloud. He’s noticing things now. You’re wearing less powder under your eyes than you used to. You seem to have gained a little weight, and you look good. You didn’t look bad before, but this is different. Your hair isn’t too different, nor your brows, but you’ve begun lining your lips in a new way. Your blush is a subtler hue. Spencer doesn’t claim to know everything about you, but he can say that you look neatly the same each time you visit. 

“It’s hard to sleep when your favourite person in the entire world gets his head cut open,” you say, taking his hand where he’d left it loose in the blankets. 

Your fingers slip into his with ease. 

“Can I tell you something?” he asks, attempting to swallow his nerves. 

“Of course you can.” 

He licks his lips. “Uh, I think I’m confused. I don’t– I don’t remember what happened, and…” 

“Oh, right. They told me this might happen.” You draw yourself up with a breath. He’s fascinated by the movement, an air of heat around him as you begin rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb. “You got hit in the back of the head with a cinder block, honey. Went down like a lead balloon.” You turn your face to show your cheek. “We’re even now on good scares, yeah?” 

You have a scar on your face he’d missed, carefully concealed but yet not invisible. Your hand in his feels so alien he holds it wrong, fingers twined but palms apart. 

“What happened to you?” he asks. 

Your brow crinkles. You go very still. “My cheek?” you ask. 

“What…” 

“Spencer, what’s the last thing you can remember, honey?” you ask, all the horror in the world to be found in your eyes. 

“Uh…” 

“Spencer?” 

He feels sick to his stomach. Without having to be told, you slip off of the bed with two taps of your shoes and reach for the bedpan, thrusting it into his lap. 

His mouth fills with spit. “I’m fine,” he says. 

“No, I don’t think so. Let me get a doctor.” 

“Wait,” he says, clutching the bedpan and pushing his wave of nausea as far down as he can. “Please don’t go.” 

“My face was months ago, honey. I got hit in the face with a hammer, you don’t remember?” you ask incredulously. 

“Why do you keep calling me honey?” he asks. He knows the answer, but it’s not computing. 

Your face drains of any happiness. “I’m going to get a doctor,” you say, shoulders rigidly tight as you exit the room, leaving Spencer in your wake wishing he’d just pretended he knew who you were, just until you kissed him again. 

—

“And he really can’t remember you at all?” Morgan asks. 

You’re a little less startled than you had been, and you’re trying not to punish poor Spencer, but realising your boyfriend forgot years of flirting, and yearning, and friendship —years of kissing in secret and otherwise, years of holding hands, and staying at each other’s places to get that extra time together, even if it was just getting to sleep in the same bed between cases— was a slap. 

“He remembers me,” you say, leg crossed over the other, arm over the railing of Spencer’s bed to hold his hand. “He just doesn’t remember a thing after Gideon came back, after Boston.” 

“I remember when you had hair,” Spencer says to Derek. 

Derek glares at him, “This Spencer doesn’t get to sass me.” 

“But I do eventually?” 

“How come you’re holding hands if he doesn’t know who you are?” Derek asks pointedly. 

You shrug. “We talked about it, didn’t we?” you ask Spencer, who perks up every time you talk, which isn’t unlike your usual Spencer, but whenever he catches himself doing it he flusters. Every time you call him baby he loses his mind. “He doesn’t remember me, but he wants to. And I remember him.” 

“This must be pretty weird for you, kid,” Derek says. 

“Sort of,” Spencer says. 

It’s funny. Now you know Spencer thinks he’s twenty three again, you can’t not notice his shyness and his awkward tries at casualness. You’d forgotten what he was like back then. 

“Wait, does that mean you don’t remember Emily?” Derek asks. 

Spencer frowns. “Uh, no?” 

You sit up in your chair. “Emily’s one of your best friends, honey. She joined the BAU when Greenaway left.”

“Not you?” he asks. 

You dramatise your pain as Derek laughs. “Not me. I didn’t transfer for a long time, unfairly. It’s okay, though, you’ll remember Emily eventually.” 

When you realised Spencer wasn’t as okay as you’d thought, you gathered a gaggle of agitated doctors to assess him. He knew his name and birthday. He was wrong about the date, the president, and the state. You’re in Arizona where he’d thought Indiana. Your bag talks to the heat: Spencer’s fan, his sunblock, his antihistamines. He couldn’t believe it when he asked where his stuff was and you passed him your handbag. 

You’re trying to drive home to him that you’re not just dating, you're common-law partners, Spence. He adores you. You’d spend life in his lap if you could afford it. 

“How’d she get you to believe her?” Derek asks Spencer. 

“Uh.” 

“I kissed him a couple of times before he came clean about the amnesia,” you say. “So I didn’t have to explain.” 

“I didn’t mean to lie,” Spencer says. 

He’s looking less haggard now you’ve brushed his hair. It was sweet to watch his shoulders relax. He shuddered when you tucked a strand behind his ears, and didn’t flinch when you asked if you could kiss his cheek. It’s hard to have him vulnerable here and not be allowed to lick his wounds for him. You feel better the better he feels. You’ve fluffed his pillow, wrapped him tighter in blankets. When he got up to pee and you offered to help, he gave a resolute No Thank You, which in hindsight is hilarious but at the time made you wanna squeeze your eyes out. 

“It’s okay,” you say softly, “I don’t mind kissing him, even if he doesn’t remember me. Just so long as he doesn’t mind it back.”

Spencer manages to squeeze your hand. It’s a soft one, but it’s real. “I don’t mind.” 

“You dog,” Derek says. 

“Stop, stop. He’s not doing anything wrong, is he?” you ask. “I’m the evil one, forcing kisses on him when he doesn’t know me.” 

“I do know you,” Spencer says. 

“What’s it like to have a crush on your own girlfriend?” Derek asks, unwilling to quit his teasing where he’s crossing his arms in the chair opposite, his cup of coffee drained on the side table. 

Spencer swallows. “Uh, nerve-wracking.” 

“Believe it or not, that’s not so different to now,” Derek says. 

Spencer looks to you for confirmation, which you love. You slide your chair closer to him and clasp his wrist with your free hand. “Sometimes you're still a little shy, but it’s not so bad. Full of myself I may be, Spencer Reid, but you do love me. It’s easy with us.” 

“Do we really live together?” he asks. “You said common-law.” 

“Not technically. I stay at your place four nights a week. You stay with me for the weekends.” 

“Every week?” he asks.

“Yeah.” 

“We’re never apart?” he asks. 

His face is turning pink. You could kiss every bit of colour on his cheeks. 

“Derek, would you get Spencer something to eat from the cafeteria? Please?” you ask, levelling your friend with a pleading gaze. 

Derek gathers himself up. “Sure. We gotta feed the string bean something, don’t we?” he asks. 

Alone again, you draw lines up and down Spencer’s arm with your nails. You’re going to be indulgent in yourself, and ask him everything you’d ever wanted to know. And then a little extra, too. 

“You’re not as skinny anymore, have you noticed? You’re quite lean.” You stand to sit where you’d put yourself before he confessed. Your hand falls to his knee. “Solid, sometimes. You and Derek go for walks occasionally.” 

“We do?” 

“Mm-hm. And me and you do yoga in the living room when we can be bothered. We tried couples Pilates, but Pilates is hard.” 

“We did?”

You smile warmly. “It’s nice to be in love with someone who loves in the same way.” 

“How do you love?” 

His ears are bitten-red. “Oh, you know. I’m too affectionate. It’s hard not to be with you. Everyone used to think we were… I don’t know, playing a game.” You slide your hand up his thigh, leaning on him to watch his pupils blow. “But I love you for far more than your propensity to blush. You get me flowers every time you see my favourites, and you never let me go to sleep without a kiss. Usually here.” You poke the skin beside your eye. “But sometimes you’ll surprise me and kiss my nose.” You're going lax with love, remembering things he’s done, and does every day.  “On a Saturday morning we make tea and I put my hands in your t-shirt. You do the crosswords for fun. Sometimes we time them.” 

“That’s not how you love, that’s what you love,” Spencer says. 

“Oh, you want a play by play of things?” He ducks his chin, but he smiles when you laugh. 

“I just can’t believe this is happening.”

You try to think of things you don’t think about anymore. “You love my sugar lip gloss, so I always wear it.” 

He reaches out tentatively. Shy as a wren in a hedgerow. You let him curl a hand over your elbow, feel the crook of it with his index finger. 

“I buy you stamps, and t-shirts for bed, and stupid stuff you wouldn’t get yourself. We’re… it’s like, it doesn’t feel like gift giving anymore because we’re always getting stuff for each other. You’re just as sweet, you know? When I first started sleeping over you bought me this huge pack of socks ‘cos yours are all odd,” you laugh. “I knew I loved you already, but…”

It’s a little sad, actually. He can’t remember all the stuff that makes you the couple you are. It’s not what you’d meant to get into. 

“Can I ask you something?” you ask. 

“Anything.” 

He’s slept-in and breathless, like he ran laps in his dreams. 

“What do you think of me now? I always wondered if you liked me back then, or if I just caught you off guard.” 

“Who wouldn’t like you?” 

“But did you?” 

He looks away hurriedly, his hand dropping from your elbow. “I guess so. But it’s not– not real. I have a crush on you.” His mumbling is sweet. “I have no idea why I’m telling you that.” 

“I had a crush on you, too, back then. It wasn’t anything serious, but it was real. And the more time we spent together, the more I thought we could fall in love,” —you take his hand and put it back on your arm— “and we did.” 

You toy with his fingers. Without looking, ashamed of your own self-indulgence, you ask another question. “What do you think of me now?” 

“I can’t remember,” he says sorrily. 

“What do you think?” 

“You feel like a dream.” He shakes his head. “You’re, like, the most beautiful girl in the world. I don’t really get how this is real.” 

You shouldn’t be surprised that he’d say it, you practically begged for it, but you can’t stop yourself from sitting up to kiss his forehead gently. “It’s real. Promise. And for the record, you’re handsome. They stopped saying ‘aged like fine wine’ a while ago. Now they just say ‘aged like Spencer Reid’.”

He gives a choky laugh. 

The door opens again. You lift your head expecting Derek and find a weather worm Hotch in the doorway. “Reid, you’re awake,” he says, not bothering with a smile. “Morgan said you have amnesia?” He directs it at both of you. 

Spencer’s looking at Hotch in clear shock. 

“He hasn’t aged that badly,” you chastise teasingly. 

“Hotch, you’re– I thought you would’ve–”

Hotch squints. “You didn’t think I had the stamina for it?” 

Spencer squirms under his gaze. “No, sir, it’s not that–”

“Sir,” Hotch says, and then he smiles. “I forgot when you both used to respect me.” 

“I have the utmost respect for you, sir,” you say through your own smile. 

“Has she been kind to you, Reid?” 

“Uh, yes? Is she not usually?” 

Hotch presses his lips together rather than answer. There’s a sympathy in his expression you resent.

—

It’s a thankfully quick bout of amnesia. The memories start to draw in like a dusting of powdered sugar, his head finely silted, one particle at a time. He finds that the more you talk, the quicker his memory is jogged. You tell him about your first kiss —I tried to kiss your cheek but you moved, it was the funniest thing— and your second. You spin stories of cases, the worst ones and the best, all the times you held hands without people knowing, the times you’d been caught. He can’t imagine it, goes hot with the memory, picturing kissing you as you’d described and the mortification of being walked in on. 

You tell him about your vacation to Nevada a few months ago and he thinks about how you’d fallen asleep on the plane. Your nose in his arm, your unhappy sigh at the tight leg space. 

Remembering you is more than half of remembering himself.

Your hands —his hands. Your smile —his laugh. The way you fold his hands in your lap —the urge to catch your chin for a kiss. 

He doesn’t know how to deal with it, and then suddenly he feels like Spencer. Your partner, your love, his proudest title for years. You’re standing at the end of the hospital bed in pajamas folding your clothes, allowed to stay the night while he’s so urgently confused and upset, you can’t make him stay here alone, please, I know you guys have those little cots for the kids ward, and he just knows you completely. 

Hours of diligent if embezzled storytelling gives it all back to him. 

“I like the lipgloss because you used to wear that perfume that smelled like sugar donuts,” he says, scratching a hand through limp hair. “And every time I crossed the square by the station–”

You let out a surprising squeal of joy. “Spencer!” you say, racing to take his hands, “Yes! The donut truck!” 

You go in for a kiss he gladly returns. “Oh, you remember,” you say, softening as he takes your neck into his hand. “I was getting worried.” 

“Some of it’s still hazy. But not so much you.” 

You wrap your arms around him for a hug, careful of his sore head. “I missed you, Spencer. I still loved you when you couldn’t remember me, but I missed you. Do you remember you?” 

He traces the scar on your lower cheek with his thumb. He’s genuinely relieved to be able to say he does. He’s not scared of what you think of him anymore, ‘cos he knows that everything he feels for you is mutual. “I remember you telling me my bad feeling was just a case of the heebies.” 

You bend into his touch. “Honey, I’m sorry. How was I supposed to know you’d get your skull whacked with a cinder block? It was a bakery.” You kiss his nose quickly. “I’m so glad you’re you. Now I can sleep in the bed with you, and not that collapsible camping cot.” 

He shushes you. “Don’t give us away. They’re not gonna let you stay if they think I’m fine.” 

You giggle excitedly, arms around him again for another squeeze. “I missed you so much. You’re so tricky now.” 

He rubs your back. “I missed you too. And I still have a crush on you, I swear.”

“Thank you, honey, that means a lot to me.” 

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚⋆

thanks for reading!

[moonysreid]

i’m going to need 2-3 business days after these

[moonysreid]

I CAN TAKE THEM!!! (Not in a fight)

[moonysreid]

sirius black uncharacteristically melting in front of everyone when you call him ‘lover boy’

all because you once caught him dancing to ‘good old-fashioned lover boy’ in his dorm

[moonysreid]

Hi I love your fics and was hoping you’d like this request:)) I was thinking a fic with James x fem!reader where she’s a slytherin but not in the stereotypical way that James and the marauders typically see them as. She’s not cold hearted or prejudice, rather quite friendly and very artsy. I was thinking an enemies to lovers where James just generalizes her with the slytherin she doesn’t like so he’s not the kindest to her, but maybe she gets paired up for an assignment with Remus so James ends up having to be around her a bit and realizes she doesn’t suck lol. Think he would definitely have to work for her affection after fumbling the ball so hard but im a sucker for a happy ending!

I hope this sounds like something you’d enjoy writing, if not that’s totally ok too❤️

Masterpiece

James Potter x Slytherin!Reader

Summary: (see above) James Potter goes a little too far with a girl everyone happens to like.

AN: I am so sorry this took so long! I hope you enjoy it <3

CW: not proof read, use of {Y/N}, Jealous and Stupid James, sexual implied ending, Protective salty Remus, self indulgent, cursing, very slight angst, fem reader, not cannon complacent, sexual innuendo,

WC: ~9k

The sky was overcast and the wind was blowing rapidly, causing your sleeves to billow as the very stool you perched on teetered from side to side. You grabbed the seat and tried to steady your perch, holding up your paint brush away from your portrait as the creamy white shade dripped down on your bare legs. 

Dressed in casual clothes, your paint stained denim short overalls and a striped shirt that hid evidence of handprint smears from your absentminded messes. Sleeves rolled up to show your speckled skin already decorated with splotches of white and browns, fresh hazy grays that resembled the foggy ground of Hogwarts and its students. 

“{Y/N} {L/N}?” A voice so calm and careful called out from behind you. You turned and smiled on instinct, your eyes landing on the tall figure. He was also in more casual clothes, a brown cable knit sweater vest over a simple white button down shirt. He was holding up a piece of paper to his eyes before he put it in his pocket. Smiling so kindly, where the corners of his eyes crinkled and his scarred lip curled up to reveal perfectly uneven teeth.

Ballet white.

“Remus Lupin?” You called out to him and he chuckled, taking a few long steps to stand beside you. 

“You were meant to wait for me, you know.” He teased and slipped his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah, I know, I know. But this was the perfect time for it.” You lifted your hands to gesture to the sky and he looked around to try and find what exactly made this 'perfect.’

“How’d you even manage to get in here?” He quizzed and took a seat on the railing. Looking around at the castle grounds from the top of RavenClaw’s tower, you got the perfect view of the astronomy tower, what you were currently painting. 

“There wasn't much convincing involved. Barty Crouch walked me up here.” You smirked and he looked bewildered.

“You know Crouch?” 

“Yeah, I do.”

Remus furrowed his brow as he tried to piece together how he hadn't heard of you before. Seeing as he was meant to be escorting you two and from each Hogwarts house for your own personal study, it seemed unlikely he wouldn't of known of you, getting this particular form of special treatment from the headmaster himself.

Remus walked around you and took a peak at what you were painting. The air so familiar, and comforting, both of you had forgotten you had just met.

“What are you painting?”

“Magical paintings.” You hummed and he furrowed his brow further.

“Don't you usually need a subject?”

“Traditionally.” You muttered and gestured for him to sit down. He listened almost instantly, sitting down on the floor next to you, laying his crutch across his lap. After a moment of pause you shrugged and set your paint aside, shifting to sit beside him on the floor, making him chuckle.

“Do you know how they work?”

“Not a clue.” He shifted to sit and face you fully. Both of you crossed your legs, like tots ready to swap unearthing secrets in the school yard. 

“Well. What you're thinking of is magical portraits. The art of bringing the life of the subject to the painting.” You declared almost breathless. “But that's amature work.” 

He gave a delighted and startled laugh at your bold declaration, but it didn't impede you.

“The true magic is being able to bring life that isn't visible to the naked eye, to visual art forms.” You declared and gestured to your painting. Remus’s eyes flickered up and widened a bit. You gave an excitable bright smile as you both watched the misty fog in your painting shift, the faint stars in the background twinkle against the backdrop, and even the few faint sketches of students within the distant tower moving about. 

“Woah.” He whispered and you nodded eagerly. 

“Isn't it inspiring?” 

“It is.” He agreed instantly before he looked back at you. “But, doesn't it typically take magic from the subject for it to work effectively? How does this work?”

“Well, don't you think Hogwarts is possibly the most magical place in the world?” You argued and he chuckled at how easily you brushed off the question. 

Of course, no one truly knew how it worked. Not that the creator of the art method ever documented his findings. The only clear part of it was not everyone had the knack for it. You were lucky, since you were young, to be able to produce the art even before you got your magic.

You turned to Remus, who was watching with rapt attention.

“Do you want to try?” You offered, a mischievous smile taking over your features that looked startlingly familiar to Remus.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Me? Paint?”

“Why not? You might find you have a hidden talent!” You encouraged, handing him a brush and a palette. 

Reluctantly, he took the brush, glancing at the canvas as if it were a daunting task. Exaggerative hesitation to defile such a beautiful painting. You grinned, ready to guide him through it. Little did you know that in that moment, you had endeared yourself to Remus in a way not many people were able to. 

For the next few hours, well after curfew, you and Remus stayed perched on the RavenClaw tower, as you instructed him on what colors and paints to use. He was doing his best not to ‘ruin it’, which quickly went out the window when, in a moment of playful determination, you covered your hands in black paint and began to stamp your canvas. Convincing him that you truly didn't care what he did to the painting as long as it was fun.

Finally, you both snuck out of the RavenClaw tower as quietly as possible, trying not to wake anyone. Leading to you two in the halls, laughing and joking as he carried your canvas for you. 

“So, you're self taught?” He prodded and you nodded. 

“Yup! Have been doing this since I was.. four? Likely. My mother showed me.” You hummed and he gave a delighted laugh. 

“Really? So you're studying in your free time?”

“Mhm! It's not something that can really be.. taught. So Hogwarts doesn't have classes on it quite yet.” You waved your hand vaguely and he nodded. 

“You're telling me this now, after all that time trying? You got my hopes up, {L/N}.”

You giggled and he put his hand over his heart in fake anguish. 

“I was this close to changing career paths, you know.”

“Oh, I'm sure you were. I could see the headline now: 'Remus Lupin, Future Auror, Turns Painter After One Magical Evening.'” You laughed, nudging him playfully with your elbow. 

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I think I’ll stick to Defense Against the Dark Arts, thank you very much. But this-” He gestured to the covered painting with a soft look. “You turned this mess into something amazing. You're truly talented.”

“I know.” You sang and he laughed, nudging you. 

“I'm serious, you know.”

“Sirius? I thought you were his boyfriend?”

“Oh Merlin, you're as bad as they are.”

You gave a laugh of your own and shoved him back. “Oh, you Marauders? Please tell me you're joking.” 

“No, no, truly. I think you'd get along. Gryffindor tower is next, right?” He prodded as you both entered the hall and stopped just before the dungeons’ entrance.

“Mhm.” 

“I'll see you tomorrow then?” He offered and held out his hand. You took it with a firm shake and you both said your goodbyes, hurrying over to the Slytherin common room.

~~~

“She's quite fun, showed me how to match pallets colors.” Remus rambled on to Lily who gave a delighted laugh at how excited he was to show her his new found artistic ability. They were sitting on the couch together, and he was exposing to her why his newest sweater vest was absolutely ruined 

“She sounds lovely.” Lily hummed, Sirius smirking from his spot between Remus’s knees, looking up at him. Eyes closed as one of the werewolf’s hands tangled in his loches of hair. 

“So lovely you should just marry her.” Sirius teased and Remus glared at him, giving a particularly rough tug at his boyfriend's hair. Sirius giving a chuckle and biting his lip. “I see no punishment here.”

“You-”

“Whose getting hitched?” James piped up from the stairs, jogging over and hopping onto the couch. Making the cushions bounce a bit as he got comfortable. “Evans, how can you let this happen? A Hogwarts marriage that's not our own?”

Lily gave a sigh and rolled her eyes, gathering her things and saying her goodbyes to Remus and Sirius, giving James the cold shoulder with a simple ‘Potter’ as he put his hand over his chest and sunk further into the cushions. 

“She says that name like it won't be hers someday.” He sighed fondly before he turned to look at the other two. “Where's Wormy?”

“He's on a date with a Hufflepuff.” Sirius snickered. “Some seventh year dude.”

“Huh.” James muttered and looked at the ceiling. “Didn't think he'd be the type to date older.”

“Yeah well-” Before Sirius could continue, Remus’s head peaked up from the couch when there was a knock on the portrait door. 

“That her?” Sirius asked as Remus slugged out of his seat to get around his clingy boyfriend. 

“Likely!” He shouted back and James tilted his head like a confused puppy.

“Who?” He quizzed Sirius and he smirked up at James.

“{Y/N} {L/N}, the artist extraordinaire.” Sirius replied with mock seriousness, adjusting his position to climb onto the couch. “Remus has been raving about her all evening.”

“{Y/N} {L/N}? Where have I heard of her before?” James leaned in, his curiosity piqued. “Oh! That paint girl? One who has been doing those weird paint studies around school?”

“Yeah, that’s her.” Sirius replied, grinning. “Apparently, she's doing some self study. Remus was practically glowing when he talked about her.”

James’s eyes widened with intrigue. “That’s brilliant! I’ve heard whispers about her- it’s supposed to be absolutely mesmerizing.”

“I wouldn't go that far.” You interjected, stepping through the portrait hole just in time to catch the end of the conversation. You were slightly out of breath, having hurried from the Slytherin dungeons to the Gryffindor tower, your paint-stained overalls still evidence of your artistic endeavors from yesterday. Looking around at the beautiful common room. A very faded almost gray-green scarf around your neck.

Burnt Scarlet and Butterscotch

The room fell silent as all eyes turned toward you. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” You teased with a playful grin, glancing around at the familiar faces of the infamous boys. Sirius was looking you over curiously, with his typical sleazy grin, but James seemed absolutely slack jawed. After a moment of a wait you gave a small laugh, snapping James out of whatever trance he was in. Turning to look at Remus who had his eyes locked on your paints, making you smile.

His eyes flicked up to yours and he grinned back cheekily. “Where should I set up?”

“Over here, near the window.” He gestured over to a small nook. You hurried over and set your things down. Starting of course with a small tarp to set up your painting area without having to worry about ruining the flooring.

You set up two canvas this time and Remus helped you, confused at first before you set another pallet and paint brush down. “Alright, my student. Do you remember what I taught you?” You teased and he laughed, walking over to pick up the paint.

“You didn't have the bring this just for me.”

“Oh I know, how great am I, right?” You teased and sat down. Remus was still getting used to your deflective personality. Shrugging as he sat down and watched as you worked. Doing his best to copy your movements.

Meanwhile, Sirius and James were watching the scene curiously. Sirius couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy at the attention his boyfriend was giving this new girl, and James was unable to get over the fading color of your scarf. His jaw clenched a bit as he watched Lily walk over to introduce herself, also somehow roped in by your charm and even sitting down with you two to watch you paint.

James leaned back on the couch, arms crossed as he watched the interaction unfold before him. The sight of you, animated and joyful as you explained your artistic process to Remus and Lily, stirred something in him. It wasn't just the way you wielded your paintbrush with such confidence; it was the warmth that radiated from you. You were a Slytherin, so obviously, but you held the room like a Gryffindor. You worked with the precision of a RavenClaw. You were patient and thoughtful with Remus and his questions, like a HufflePuff.

He didn't get it.

“Oi, Prongs, you look like you’ve just swallowed a lemon.” Sirius whispered, nudging James with his elbow. “What’s got you all broody?”

“Nothin.” James replied, too quickly, his eyes still fixed on you. “Just… watching.”

Sirius followed his eyes and slowly smirked to himself. “She's getting under your skin too, huh?” 

James glanced at Sirius before his glare locked back on you as you instructed Lily to take your paintbrush and gestured to the canvas he couldn't see. “What's her deal? Why's she so.. smiley?” 

The ‘as a Slytherin’ part came unspoken to both of the boys.

“You know, Remus says she knows Crouch.” 

“Of course she does.” He muttered, eyes locked on the way you rolled up your sleeve and cuffed them. How you loosened your collar, and leaned down, showing the upper valley to your-

And suddenly the floor was a bit more interesting. He turned to look at Sirius who’s lip twitched as he watched Remus rub his thumb across his cheek and smudge some black paint on himself.

“... Merlin, he's bloody fit, ain't he?” Sirius muttered and James gave a loud exaggerated groan.

“I'm shocked Remus is entertaining her at all.” James finally muttered and sunk deeper into his sheet like a pouty child. Sirius nodded.

James watched with narrowed eyes as you laughed along with Remus and Lily, his annoyance bubbling up to the surface. Without really thinking it through, he pushed himself up from the couch, making his way over to where you were sitting with the paintbrushes and palettes laid out neatly.

He made it look casual, like he was just getting a better view, but as he stepped closer, his foot "accidentally" caught the jar of paint water perched near the edge of the table. It tipped, and time seemed to slow as the murky water splashed all over your leggings that just peaked form under your overalls, staining the fabric a dark, ugly color.

"Oh! Whoops, sorry 'bout that," James said, not quite managing to hide the smirk tugging at his lips. His tone was just on the edge of sincere, but the glint in his eyes gave him away.

You glanced down at the mess, then up at James, and for a moment it seemed like the whole room held its breath. James just waiting for the snake to snap its jaws at him. But instead of getting angry, instead of snapping at him like he expected, you just smiled- a bright, genuine smile that made James's stomach twist uncomfortably.

"No worries, Potter.” You mused, brushing it off as if nothing had happened. "A bit of extra color never hurt anyone."

James blinked, taken aback. He hadn’t expected that. He muttered something that might have been an apology, but the way you smiled at him; completely unbothered- only made his irritation flare up more. He turned sharply on his heel, stalking back to the couch where Sirius was watching with an amused expression.

"Smooth, mate," Sirius drawled, arching an eyebrow.

"Shut it," James muttered, sinking back into his seat, his eyes flicking back to you as you continued painting like nothing had happened.

---

Over the next few days, James found himself increasingly irked by you. No matter what he did, you never seemed fazed. He "accidentally" knocked over your brushes during lunch one day, scattering them across the floor. You just laughed, picking them up without complaint. He charmed your canvas to keep sliding down whenever you set it up, but you only adjusted it each time, humming to yourself as if it were all just part of the process. He even tried to charm the colors in your palette to mix into a murky brown- but you simply shrugged, saying something about it being a "happy little accident" and turned it into a whole new painting.

Each time, you just smiled at him, that infuriatingly calm smile that made James feel like he was the one being childish. It was driving him mad, and Sirius, for one, found the whole thing endlessly entertaining.

One morning, James was sitting in the Great Hall, absently poking at his breakfast, when he heard a determined set of footsteps approaching. He looked up just in time to see you standing over him, hands on your hips, your eyes sharp. If James was a smarter boy, he would of been able to see the faint red rims around your eye sockets and the twitch of your lip.

"Potter.” You huffed, your voice carrying just enough edge to catch the attention of the surrounding students. "Give it back."

James blinked, feigning innocence. "Give what back?"

"Don't play dumb.” You snapped, leaning over the table, your face inches from his. "My paintbrush. The one with the silver handle. I know you took it."

James opened his mouth to deny it, but the look in your eyes made him hesitate. There was something different today- a fire that hadn’t been there before. He was finally getting a reaction from you. He felt his resolve waver, and before he could stop himself, he found his hand reaching into his robes, to pull out the paintbrush in question. Only.. it wasn't there.

James blinked, his smirk faltering as he patted the pocket where he thought he’d stashed your paintbrush. It wasn’t there. A pang of unease settled in his chest as he searched through the other pockets of his robes, the smirk fading completely as he came up empty-handed.

“Are you kidding me?” You straightened, your eyes narrowing. “Potter, don’t play games right now. That brush… it’s important to me.”

There was a crack in your voice, something raw that caught James off guard. The confidence you always carried seemed to waver, your voice betraying a vulnerability that made James's stomach sink with guilt.

“I… I swear it was right here,” James muttered, now frantically checking every inch of his robes, his face growing paler with each empty pocket. The students around them had grown quiet, sensing the sudden seriousness of the situation.

Remus was glaring daggers into his very soul, even Sirius hid his face away in his hand.

You stood there, arms crossed tightly over your chest, your lips pressed together as you fought to maintain composure. You looked away from him, swallowing hard. “Potter, that was my mother’s. She gave it to me before…” You trailed off, your voice breaking slightly before you cleared your throat, trying to regain control.

James’s heart sank. He hadn’t known. He hadn’t thought. All he’d wanted was to rile you up, to see you react. He hadn’t meant for this.

“Alright,” He said quickly, standing up from the table. His voice was more earnest now, the usual cockiness gone. “I’ll help you find it. It must have fallen out somewhere. Let’s go check my dorm.”

You didn’t say anything, just nodded stiffly, blinking rapidly as you turned on your heel and started walking, James trailing after you. The Great Hall was eerily quiet as they left, whispers following in their wake.

“She's too damn nice.” Remus muttered and Sirius sighed. About to say something, before he earned a glare from Remus too. 

Lily tutted. “As if you weren't involved in anything he's done to her so far.”

~~~

The walk to the Gryffindor common room felt like it took forever, the silence between the two of you heavy. James kept glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, the way your jaw was clenched, the way you kept your eyes straight ahead, refusing to meet his gaze.

When they reached the boys' dormitory, James immediately began tearing through his things, searching every nook and cranny. He pulled open drawers, checked under his bed, even rummaged through the pockets of his other robes. But the paintbrush was nowhere to be found.

He turned to you, his hands dropping to his sides in defeat. “I… I’m so sorry, {Y/N}, I can’t find it. Maybe it fell somewhere else, maybe-”

“Stop,” You cut him off, your voice barely a whisper. Your eyes were glassy, tears welling up as you looked at him. The fight you’d been trying to keep inside seemed to crumble all at once, your shoulders sagging as you sank down onto the edge of his bed. “It’s gone, isn’t it?”

James stared at you, his heart aching at the sight of you like this. He’d never imagined he’d see you cry, and knowing he was the cause of it made him feel worse than he ever thought possible. Suddenly all those weeks of trying to get under your skin seemed more of a success, if this was the result of a truly damaging prank.

“I…” He didn’t know what to say, how to fix this. He knelt down in front of you, his voice gentle. “I’ll find it, I promise. I’ll look everywhere, I’ll…”

You shook your head, a tear slipping down your cheek. “It’s not just a paintbrush, Potter. It was hers. It was all I had left of her.”

James’s chest tightened, and he reached out, hesitating for a moment before placing a hand on your knee. “I’m so sorry. I… I’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to you. I’ll find it. I swear I will.”

You looked down at his hand, then back at him, your eyes filled with a mixture of pain and exhaustion. “Just… don’t,” You whispered, your voice breaking. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Potter.”

And with that, you stood up, wiping at your eyes as you turned and left the dormitory, leaving James there, staring after you, feeling more helpless than he ever had before.

~~~

James had never felt guilt like this. It gnawed at him, making his usual swagger feel empty. Over the next few days, he found himself constantly scanning the corridors, the classrooms, even the common rooms, hoping to catch a glimpse of you but you were always just out of reach. Each time he spotted you, you either turned and walked the other way or simply looked right through him as if he didn't exist.

It wasn't long before the whole school knew what had happened. How James Potter had lost something precious of yours, something irreplaceable. And unlike other times, where his mischief had earned him admiration or laughter, this time he received disapproving glares and whispers behind his back. How he hurt the only Slytherin everyone seemed to adore. Even Remus had given him the cold shoulder for a while, and Lily refused to talk to him outright.

One day, after Transfiguration, James caught sight of you slipping out of the classroom. He hurried to catch up, weaving through the crowd of students, his heart pounding in his chest. When he finally reached you, he touched your arm gently.

“{Y/N}, please, just give me a second.”

You turned slowly, your eyes meeting his. There was a guardedness there that hadn’t been before, a wall that you had built between yourself and him. It hurt more than James could put into words.

Even then, you took time to notice; Cinnamon Brown in his eyes.

 James Potter was used to rejection, Lily Evans ran him like it was a damned sport, but something about your usually positive beaming face turning to a frown at the sight of him wrecked him.

“What do you want, Potter?” You asked, your voice tired, as if dealing with him was just another chore.

He swallowed, struggling to find the right words. “I’m sorry. Really. I never meant for things to go this far. I’ve been looking for your brush, I swear it. I… I just want to make it up to you.”

You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest. “There’s nothing you can do, alright? Just leave it, Potter.”

“But-”

“No,” You said firmly. “I don’t want anything to do with you. You’ve done enough. I- I thought you were funny, that you could tell a good joke. Take one too. But this- no. No, just leave me be, Potter.”

James flinched at your words, the finality of them cutting deeper than he expected. He watched as you turned and walked away, the distance between you growing with every step.

~~~

James's heart sank deeper with each day that passed without a sign of the lost paintbrush. He had scoured the castle, enlisted the help of some of his housemates, and even tried asking around discreetly in other houses, but to no avail. It was as if the brush had vanished into thin air, leaving behind a growing rift between him and you.

Sitting in the Gryffindor common room, James slumped on a couch, staring blankly at the fire crackling in the hearth. Sirius and Remus were there too, the latter still showing signs of his displeasure over the whole ordeal.

"I messed up, didn't I?" James murmured, not really expecting an answer.

"You did.” Remus deadpanned, not looking up from his book. "And you know it's not just about the brush. It's about how you've been treating her from the start."

Sirius, lounging with his back against the armrest, watched James closely. "You've been a right prat, Prongs- even I gave in after the first prank.” He remarked and avoided Remus’s slight glare. “You didn't just step on her toes, you danced the bloody Tango on them."

James sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I just wanted to get a rise out of her, see her react. But now... I can't stop thinking about how I made her feel. It's like I'm seeing myself for the first time and it's not a pretty picture."

"Sounds like you've got it bad," Sirius said with a smirk.

Remus closed his book, finally giving James his full attention, not exactly happy with what he was hearing. "It's not just guilt, James. It's empathy. You're finally understanding the impact of your actions on others."

James looked from Sirius to Remus, the realization slowly dawning on him. "It's not like I like her. She's just.. pretty. You know, I hate to see a pretty face so upset.” He scoffed and looked back to Sirius who arched his eyebrow and smirked wider as he realized his remark wasn't as playful as he intended.

“That right?” Sirius pushed and James huffed. 

“That’s right.”

“When was the last time you bothered poor Evans?” Sirius challenged and Remus gave a low groan. Great, James just couldn't leave his friends alone. 

He watched in a bit of sympathy as the dumb boys jaw slowly went limp and his eyes widened. “Merlin, I think I like her.” He mumbled in absolute dread. “Like really like her. And I've gone and ruined it before it could even start."

"Well, you can't undo what you've done, but you can start making amends," Remus advised, a softer tone replacing his earlier reprimand.

"How? She doesn’t even want to see me," James lamented.

"Give her time and show her you've changed.. And Merlin, don't do this just to win her over." Remus huffed.

James pondered, his gaze drifting toward the flickering fire. "What if she never forgives me?"

"Then you’ll learn a valuable lesson in respect, won't you?" Remus said sternly. "You can't force forgiveness, James. All you can do is prove that you're better than your worst mistake."

“Does Merlin speak straight through you?” James muttered to Remus who swatted him with the book across his lap, before standing. 

“I need new friends.” He mumbled as he walked away.

Sirius laughed and James pouted, sinking back into the cushions of the couch. Pondering what would be the next best move when earning your forgiveness. He could live with never being with you, he always found the concept of lost love romantic. 

What he couldn't do was live knowing he hurt you without even trying for your forgiveness.

~~~

For the next few weeks, Hogwarts transformed into an entirely different realm for James. Determined to right his wrongs, he threw himself into the role of a repentant suitor with the zeal of a true 70s romantic hero; one who was more often clumsy than charming.

One morning at breakfast, armed with an armful of apology notes penned in his best handwriting (which still looked suspiciously like chicken scratch), James tried to navigate the treacherous waters of your friends’ skepticism and Barty’s disdain. He handed out his notes, his voice tinged with hopeful earnestness that made a few of your friends stifle their giggles. “Could you- um, would you make sure {Y/N} gets these? They’re, well, important.” His cheeks flamed red as he stumbled over his words, but the sincerity in his eyes earned him a few nods. The stuttering and foolish boy even earning a smile from Pandora Rosier who assured him she'd ‘do her best.’

He was getting desperate, at every shred of attention you spared him. During potions class, James attempted to be your knight in shining armor, which, predictably, went about as well as a troll in a ballet shop. When he noticed you struggling to reach a vial of newt eyes on a high shelf, he leapt up, nearly knocking over his own cauldron in his eagerness to assist. “Allow me!” 

But his overly enthusiastic grab sent the vial spinning into the air, only to crash down right next to Slughorn’s feet, splattering the hem of his robes with an unsightly goo. 

“Sorry, Professor!” James winced, while you suppressed a snicker at the sheer absurdity of his gallantry. Graveling even as he was sentenced to detention.

Now, James knew that if he wanted to be truthful with you it started with his behaviors. Which, started with him being truly himself. So, much to Remus’s annoyance, James turned to grander gestures. 

He managed to convince the house elves to let him borrow the kitchens for an evening to bake you a peace offering. Armed with sugar, flour, and an overabundance of misplaced confidence, he set about creating what he envisioned would be a culinary masterpiece. The result was a lopsided cake with icing that read, "Forgive me?" in wobbly letters. Only, half of the cake was callapsed, making it seem much more like a command of “give me”. 

He presented it to you during dinner, his hands shaking slightly as he placed it on the table. The entire Great Hall watched in anticipation as you took a bite. The cake was oddly salty, but when your lips twitched into a reluctant smile, James felt a surge of pure elation. Maybe, just maybe, his efforts were thawing your icy regard.

He even tried serenading you one evening in the common room, guitar in hand- a skill he had hastily learned over the past week. His voice cracked more than once, and the guitar was slightly out of tune, but he sang with such heartfelt passion that even the portraits along the walls seemed to listen in. He crooned to you, mangling the melody as he went. You watched, half-amused and half-astonished, as this boy who’d never shown an interest in music before butchered the song with endearing enthusiasm. Everyone in your common room appalled.

Through it all, James's exploits became the talk of Hogwarts. Whispers followed him everywhere- some mocking, others admiring. Some even amused that his attention had switched from Lily Evans, to you after years of pining. But beneath the laughter and the rumors, a thread of respect grew among his peers. Here was James Potter, chasing redemption as doggedly as he’d once chased after mischief.

Late one night, as James sat by the fire reflecting on his recent life choices, Sirius plopped down next to him, slinging an arm over his shoulders. “Prongs, you’re a bleeding heart wrapped in a jester’s cloak,” Sirius shook his head with a grin.

James laughed, running a hand through his tousled hair. “I just need to know she forgives me, Padfoot. That I’ve made things right.”

“Well, mate, at the very least, you’ve given the whole school a good show,” Sirius chuckled. “And who knows? Maybe our little Slytherin is writing her own notes now; ‘How to Tame Your Marauder’ or something more poetic.”

James smiled, gazing into the flickering flames, hopeful and a bit wiser. In his quest to win your forgiveness, he’d stumbled across something unexpected. Something worth it. Not just you, but a desire- no, need- to better himself. Every time he saw you smile, made you laugh, roll your eyes, he wanted to be someone better. Someone who deserved to find themselves feeling the magic of being in love with a girl like {Y/N} {L/N}.

And maybe he'd even find himself worthy of her affection in return.

~~~

It all came to a head one day when he was scouring the school once again for your paintbrush. He had lost track of time in his mindless routine and forgotten about potions class. He was a half hour late, dashing into the classroom in a ruffled mess.

His breathless arrival didn’t go unnoticed, especially by you, who eyed him warily from your spot at the potions bench. Professor Slughorn eyed him with a mixture of irritation and curiosity. 

“Mr. Potter, so kind of you to join us,” Slughorn boomed, sarcasm heavy in his tone. “Twenty points from Gryffindor for your tardiness, it's almost as if you left to miss my instruction specifically.” 

James grimaced but still tried to flash his playful smile that usually meant a clap back or snark. Instead, it was his form of a hesitant apology. “Sorry Professor-”

“I am not going over the instructions for Amortentia a third time today, is anyone willing to assist Mr. Potter?” Slughorn announced form the front of the class. There was a long moment of silence. Even with everyone slowly growing fond of him, no one was willing to drag down such an important project for the foolish boy.

Then, from across the room, your voice cut through the tension. "I can help him, Professor," you said, your voice calm but with an edge that didn’t entirely mask your reluctance. Everyone's heads turned towards you, including a visibly surprised James.

"Very well, {Y/N}. Please ensure Mr. Potter catches up without disrupting the rest of the class," Slughorn replied with a nod, turning back to his notes.

James approached your bench, a mix of gratitude and nervousness evident on his face. As he took the seat next to you, he whispered, "Thank you, I really mean it."

As James settled beside you at the potions bench, his hands fumbled slightly with the equipment. Slughorn, having returned to the front of the class, continued with his lecture, oblivious to the dramatic love story unfolding at the back.

James cleared his throat softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Really, {Y/N}, thanks for helping me out here. I know I've been... well, less than admirable lately."

You didn't look at him immediately, focusing instead on measuring out rose thorns with precision. "Just start by adding these to the cauldron slowly.” You instructed, handing him the thorns. "And stir- don't let it settle."

As he followed your instructions, his movements were careful, mirroring the cautious tone he was taking with you. After a moment, you finally met his gaze. "You've been trying hard, haven't you?" You muttered, not unkindly. Your eyes drifting over his focused expression and having to fight a smile.

James paused, the stirring rod in his hand still. "I have. I want to make things right, not just with you but... well, I've been thinking a lot about things I've done. I'm sorry, truly."

You watched him, the sincerity in his eyes striking a chord that made your heart ache. What had you done to the famous James Potter? His efforts over the past few weeks hadn’t gone unnoticed- it was quite entertaining. From the awkwardly presented cake to his out-of-tune serenades, his actions spoke far more than his words ever did. "I've noticed.” You whispered. "It's been hard to miss, really. Hogwarts hasn't been this entertaining in years."

A small smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. "I guess I've made a bit of a spectacle of myself."

"Just a bit.” You chuckled, the tension easing between you as the familiar rhythm of your banter found its footing again.

Encouraged by that sweet sound of your laugh and the pretty way your lips curled into a smile he just adored-, James continued, "If there’s any chance I could, you know, maybe start over? I’d understand if not but-"

"You're really laying it on thick with the humility, Potter. It’s a good look on you.” You teased gently, turning back to the potion, which was now bubbling contentedly. "Let's just take it one day at a time. But, yeah, we can start with being friends."

James let out a breath he seemed to have been holding, relief washing over him. "Friends, right. And if you ever want to throw more paint at me, just say when."

"Be careful, I might take you up on that.” You warned with a playful grin.

As the class progressed, you both fell into an easy rhythm, the earlier awkwardness replaced by a budding conversation. James was surprisingly adept once he focused, and you found yourself laughing more genuinely than you had in a while at his self-deprecating jokes and clumsy yet earnest attempts at potion-making.

By the end of the class, not only had you two successfully brewed a passable batch of Amortentia, which thankfully didn't smell like sweat and regret. James had shown you a different side of himself, one that was humbly trying to make amends and move forward. And as you packed up your supplies, sharing a light joke about the day's mishaps, it felt like a fresh start was truly possible.

James took the chance to smile back at Remus and Sirius. Sirius seemed delighted for him, and Remus seemed hesitant. But it was okay, because you hadn't just forgiven him. You were willing to be his friend.

~~~

James slowly realised that being your friend was likely one of the best feelings he's had in a while. He thought everyone you had met were your friends, considering how sweet and lovely you were with everyone. 

But he was wrong.

There was a crazy side to you that only a small few saw. He learned it quickly, that you were sweet, kind, understanding- yes.

But you were an absolute gremlin when you wanted to be.

James discovered this one evening when you invited him to join you for a late-night painting session- a tradition you shared with a select few. Remus told him about them, but he never really understood just how amazing it felt to have your full attention like this. He had anticipated a serene evening, maybe learning a bit more about your magical painting techniques. Instead, he found himself in the middle of a chaotic spree of creativity that involved more prank-like antics than actual painting.

How in the bloody hell had he not known you properly?

As James entered the room, he was immediately hit by a flying glob of paint. It splattered across his face, dripping down his cheek. He stood, stunned for a moment, before hearing your laughter from behind an easel.

“Oh Potter, rule one. Never let your guard down.” You taunted and quickly hurried over to your canvas. Able to notice how the bright pink paint clung to his Jet Black hair.

Wiping the paint off with a sleeve, James couldn’t help but laugh, feeling a spark of challenge light up within him. "Oh, it’s on, {Y/N}." He responded, grabbing a palette loaded with vibrant colors.

What ensued was a wild mess of laughter, artistic ‘attacks,’ and impromptu paint duels that left both of you covered in every hue imaginable. Hindsight is 20/20- he shouldn't of worn his school robes. It was during these moments, dodging your playful ambushes and crafting hasty shields out of canvas boards, that James realized how comfortable he felt around you. Your laughter became a soundtrack he looked forward to, and your approving nods at his clumsy attempts at art warmed him more than he expected.

“It's humiliating how good you're getting at this.” You teased from your perch on a stool, James chuckled and playfully flipped you off.

“So much sass. And if I credited this to my teacher?”

“You should, I'm bloody good.” You laughed, wiping your nose before sneezing away some of the wet paint you forgot was on your hand.

That night became a normal accurance, it was like you two never fought. You two would find yourself laying on a tarp full of paint. You were laying on your back with your legs against the wall, and he was sitting with his back against said wall. Both of you looking off into dead space as you both talked about the most random and ridiculous things; from the controversial taste of pasties to the value and control one had over each other's fates.

“You know, everytime I come here, I remember why I've fallen for you.”

His words came out before he could stop himself. His jaw dropped at his own broken honesty, horrified that he had ruined the moment. 

After a moment of silence, he looked down to see you smiling at the ceiling. 

“Is that so?”

James swallowed thick and clenched his jaw a bit.

“Yeah.”

“That's awfully sweet of you.”

Your words were light, but they carried a weight that settled over James with an unexpected warmth. He watched you, admiring the serene expression on your face, highlighted by the ambient light that filtered through the scattered paint jars around you. He welcomed the twist of his gut like an old friend.

"I mean it, though," James continued, a hint of vulnerability in his voice as he leaned his head back against the wall, his gaze still fixed on you. "You make it easy to be myself, to be better. You've turned what started as a mess into something... pretty great."

“And isn't that just life?” You teased softly. “Sappy, messy, and yet an absolute masterpiece.”

“Is that what you truly believe?”

“Maybe. Or maybe I just say what makes sense to me in the moment.”

“You're a pain.” He chuckled and looked down, seeing your smile had grown tenfold. Your nose scrunching up and the corners of your eyes wrinkling.

James couldn't resist the infectious energy of your smile. It pulled a laugh from deep within him, a genuine, carefree sound that filled the room- he was screwed. "You're brilliant, you know that? Absolutely infuriating, but brilliant."

You shifted to sit up, leaning against the wall next to him, paint smears marking both your faces and clothes. "I'll take that as a compliment, Potter. Coming from you, it means quite a lot."

And that was all. James hadn't even registered your soft rejection, just relieved you seemed to accept him regardless. He leaned his head on your shoulder and you flicked off some stray pain from his nose. He smiled, all teeth, before he got up and forced you to your feet. Pulling you into a dance that made you cackle like a proper witch. And that was enough. To see you so bloody happy was enough.

~~~

James learned to share you quickly. With Barty always on your heel or Pandora hovering listlessly at your side. 

He even grew accustomed to seeing you draped in the easy camaraderie of Ravenclaws and your fellow Slytherins, your infectious laugh filling the spaces you all occupied together. It was during these times that James learned to appreciate you in a new light- not just as a friend or a fleeting crush, but as a vibrant part of his Hogwarts experience.

It wasn’t always easy, of course. The sting of his previous actions lingered like a shadow at the edge of his thoughts, a reminder of the consequences of his thoughtlessness. Yet, each shared smile and each shared conversation with you wove a new thread of respect and affection into the fabric of his daily life.

As winter deepened and the snow began to blanket Hogwarts, bringing with it the festive buzz of the upcoming holiday season, James found himself more reflective. The common room was often aglow with the warm light of the fire, students gathered around in cozy clusters, and it was here that James found a new sense of belonging. Not just as a Marauder, but as a friend among a wider circle that included you.

One chilly evening, as the wind howled outside and the frost painted delicate patterns on the castle windows, James approached you with a tentative peace offering- a sketchbook. Its cover was a simple, deep blue, but inside, he had taken the time to fill the first page with a clumsy yet earnest attempt at a magical painting. It wasn’t animated like yours, but the colors were vibrant, a silent testament to his efforts to understand your world.

You accepted the sketchbook with a surprised chuckle, flipping through the blank pages before pausing at his painting. “This is for me?” You asked, a softness in your voice that hadn’t been there before.

“Yeah,” James nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets, looking uncharacteristically shy. “I thought… well, I thought you could use it to capture the winter. I know it’s not magical like yours, but-”

“It’s perfect, James,” You interrupted, a sincere smile breaking across your face. “Really. Thank you.”

That smile, that simple moment, seemed to close a chapter on the earlier tensions between you two.

“Of course, it's not free.”

“Id expect nothing less.” You teased and he chuckled. 

“Quiddich. You never go to the games. All I ask, next week, come and cheer me on?” He offered and you couldn't up but laugh. “Are you asking for a lucky charm, Potter?”

”Not any Lucky charm. Mine.” 

~~~

The day of the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin arrived with the usual buzz of excitement and rivalry. The stands were packed, a sea of red and green as students cheered boisterously for their respective houses. James, his nerves on edge, had been secretly looking forward to seeing you in the crowd, especially after your promise to wear Gryffindor red. It was a small victory, but for him, it meant the world.

However, as he scanned the crowd from his broom high above, his heart sank a little. There you were, indeed wrapped in a bold, red scarf, but still cheering enthusiastically for Slytherin. The sight was confusing and, if he was honest with himself, a bit disappointing. Throughout the match, James tried to focus on the game, but his eyes inevitably kept drifting back to you. Each cheer for Slytherin felt like a playful taunt, and his competitive spirit took a hit each time.

Despite his best efforts, the game didn't go well for Gryffindor. Slytherin was sharp, coordinated, and relentless. When the Slytherin seeker caught the Snitch, sealing their victory, a wave of green cheers swept the stands. James landed his broom with a tight expression, his disappointment not just in the loss, but in the mixed signals you seemed to be sending.

The teams made their way back to the locker rooms amidst mixed reactions from the crowd. While his team consoled each other and talked about what went wrong, James couldn’t shake off his gloom. He avoided the usual post-game mingling, instead heading straight for the Gryffindor common room, his mood as dark as the clouds above.

As he slumped into an armchair by the fire, the common room mostly empty due to the ongoing celebrations outside, Remus and Sirius walked in. They took one look at him and exchanged a glance.

“Tough game, Prongs,” Sirius said, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Yeah. And I guess the whole wearing-red thing didn’t mean what I thought it did,” James muttered, not meeting his friends' eyes.

Remus, ever the perceptive one, added softly, “Maybe there’s more to it, James. Did you ask her about it?”

Before James could respond, the portrait hole opened, and you stepped in, still wearing the red scarf, your expression a mix of concern and determination. Seeing you, Sirius and Remus excused themselves with knowing smiles, leaving the two of you alone.

James, as avoidant as ever and riddled with emotions he didn't want to confront, stood sharply and turned towards his dormitory. You gawked at him before furrowing your eyebrows in annoyance, a pout taking over your expression. You hurried after him.

“What's wrong, Jamie?”

Oh Merlin.

“I don't want to talk to you.” James hissed out and shoved his way into his room. You huffed and shoved the door open and walked in, closing the door behind yourself.

“You're not being very fair right now. I'm sorry I couldn't win the game for you but-”

“Do not make this about the win.” 

“What is this about then, Jamie? I don't get it!” 

“Stop calling me that.” He hissed and turned to face you, making you flinch. 

“What's gotten into you?” You pushed cautiously and James scoffed.

“I can't do this! I don't get you!” He strained. “I tell you I've fallen for you and you brushed it off. I ask you to cheer for me and you show up in red, cheering for Slytherin!”

“James, it's my house.” You muttered softly and you saw his shoulders sag.

“Yeah but- I just figured-” He gave a long shaky sigh. Turning around and sitting on the bed, running his hands over his face.

You moved closer, taking a seat next to him on the bed, your own emotions swirling. Even then you were able to take notice. His teeth were strained by his jaw, yet they held the same Ballet White. His robes shimmering with Burnt Scarlet and Butterscotch. His eyes that locked onto yours so vulnerable, giving that perfect Cinnamon Brown. Then the way his hair shagged over his Jet Black lochs. You couldn't look away. Not from all your favorite colors.

“James, I wore red because you asked me to. I thought it was a way to show you that... that I care. But I'm still a Slytherin, and my friends were down there on that field too. I was cheering for them, not against you."

James looked at you, the frustration softening in his eyes as he processed your words. "I know, I know. It's just... everything got mixed up in my head. Seeing you there, in red, but not for Gryffindor. It felt like you were there, but not really with me."

You took his hand gently, squeezing it. "I was there for you, James. Maybe not in the way you expected, but I was there because you matter to me. I cheered for Slytherin, but I wore your favorite color. Can't I support both?"

James let out a small laugh, the tension easing from his shoulders. "When you put it like that, it sounds perfectly reasonable. I just... I guess I let the game get to me more than I should have."

"You're passionate, that's not a bad thing. But sometimes, you might see competition where there's just... affection." You offered him a small smile, hoping to lighten the mood further.

He returned your smile, this time with more warmth. "Affection, huh? So, you admit there’s something?" James teased, trying to shift back to his usual playful demeanor.

"Maybe I do.” You teased back, nudging him lightly. "But don't let it go to your head. We still have a lot to figure out, starting with how to handle house rivalries during Quidditch matches."

James chuckled, his spirits visibly lifted. "We'll figure it out. As long as it means I get to see you in Gryffindor red, maybe I can even cheer for Slytherin once in a while."

"That’s a deal.” You agreed, feeling the gap between you closing as the misunderstanding cleared up.

Just then, the door burst open, and Sirius poked his head in, a mischievous grin on his face. "Are we all forgiven and friendly now? Because there’s a victory party for Slytherin, and I was hoping to steal your girl for a dance, Prongs."

James rolled his eyes, but his smile was genuine. "Only if you promise to bring her back, Padfoot."

You laughed, standing up and offering James a hand up. "Let’s go then. And maybe we can start a new tradition- dancing together, no matter who wins the match."

James took your hand, standing and pulling you into a quick, grateful hug. "Sounds like a perfect plan."

Before he could pull away fully, you stole a quick kiss against his cheek. He gave a startled huff, staring at you with wide eyes. Before he could scamper out any response, or even kiss you back, you pulled away and sent him a wink. Hurrying after a laughing Sirius as he took your arm like a gentleman would.

It took James two to three business days for his system to turn back on. “H-hey, wait!” He shouted after you, stumbling over himself and hitting his foot against the bed. Giving a small curse before he stumbled back after you, not hearing the soft clank of something falling from between his head board and the dresser. 

Later that night, you two would find your mother's paintbrush, nestled between his bed posts and pillows. 

What were you doing in James Potter’s bed so late? 

Experiencing a masterpiece.

[moonysreid]

james potter x cat animagus!reader who he picks up thinking as stray and lets in on a secret

James Potter was the kind of guy who could never ignore a creature in need, so when he found a little brown cat loitering around the Quidditch pitch during practice, his heart melted instantly. "Poor thing," he murmured, crouching down. “You’re probably cold and starving. Don’t worry, mate—I’ve got you.”

Before you could react, you were being scooped up in his strong arms. Not that you minded, really.

James carried you straight to the Gryffindor boys’ dormitory, setting you on his bed with all the care of a proud parent. “There you go. Home sweet home.”

You blinked at him, tail twitching in mild amusement.

“Right,” he said, flopping onto the bed beside you. “Let’s establish some ground rules. No scratching the furniture. No biting Sirius—actually, scratch that, feel free to bite Sirius. And no stealing my socks, got it?”

You gave him the look—your signature, unimpressed really, James? glare.

James narrowed his eyes at you. “Weird. You’ve got this very… familiar judgmental vibe. Kind of like—nah. I’m imagining it.” He grinned. “Anyway, since you’re new here and seem chill, I’ll let you in on a secret.”

You tilted your head, heart thumping nervously.

James puffed out his chest dramatically. “I’ve got a girlfriend.”

You twitched your ears.

“She’s amazing. Funny, smart, gorgeous.” He laughed, leaning back on the bed. “But Merlin, she’s terrifying sometimes. But, you know, in a hot way. Like, I kind of like it when she yells at me.”

You swished your tail sharply, earning a startled laugh from him.

“Oi, don’t judge! You don’t know what it’s like to be loved by a goddess,” he said, wagging a finger at you. “She’s got this look—like, when I say something dumb, she just stares at me. Kinda like the look you’re giving me right now.”

Your tail lashed harder, but James carried on, oblivious as he scratched the back of his neck. “Anyway, she’s amazing. Except sometimes, she’s so bossy. Always telling me to do my homework, stop sneaking chocolate into the library, quit messing up my hair—”

You hissed softly, and James blinked. “What? I’m just saying it’s endearing. Don’t get your whiskers in a twist.” He leaned in, narrowing his eyes.

“And the sass! She’s so sassy. Honestly, sometimes I think she loves making me squirm.” He sighed dreamily, resting his chin in his hands. “What a woman. You’d like her. Or maybe not. She’d probably call you ‘scruffy’ or something. Wait—you’re scruffy and judgy. Are you sure you’re not her Animagus form?”

You froze.

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “She’d have told me. I mean, I told her I’m a stag! She’s even touched my antlers. I think she’s got a thing for them, but she denies it. So, yeah, she’d totally tell me if she were a cat.”

You stared at him, doing your best to suppress a laugh.

The next day, the game was up.

“Wouldn’t want to be too bossy, now would I?” you said sharply, glaring at James in the common room.

James stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide. “What?”

You raised an eyebrow.

“No,” he said, shaking his head like a wet dog. “No way. How do you—what—how do you know that?”

You just smirked.

James clutched his hair like a man on the verge of a breakdown. “Wait. Wait. Okay, no. There’s an explanation. Did Sirius tell you? No—he doesn’t even listen when I talk. Did Remus overhear and snitch? No, he’d lecture me about boundaries. Did… did you talk to the cat?!”

You snorted. “What?”

“Do you speak cat language?!” James demanded, looking genuinely alarmed. “Oh, Merlin, are you part Kneazle?!”

“James—”

“Or—or did you use Legilimency on the cat?!” He gasped, his hands flying to his hair. “Were you watching me somehow? Are you spying on me?!”

“James—”

“Oh my god.” His voice dropped to a whisper, eyes wild with panic. “You’re in cahoots with the cat, aren’t you?”

“James!”

He flailed dramatically. “Are you secret friends with a magical talking cat?”

“James Fleamont Potter!”

“What?!”

You crossed your arms, smirking. “I was the cat, you idiot.”

James blinked. Once. Twice. Then he pointed an accusatory finger at you. “You WHAT?!”

“I’m an Animagus,” you said, shrugging.

James stared at you like you’d just told him you were the heir of Merlin. “No. No way. You’re lying. You’re joking. Tell me you’re joking.”

You shrugged again. “Sorry, love. Not joking.”

He gasped, clutching his chest. “I LET YOU SLEEP IN MY BED.”

“Yeah, thanks for that.”

“I SCRATCHED BEHIND YOUR EARS.”

“Very kind of you.”

“I TOLD YOU MY SECRETS!”

“Well, you did think I was a stray.”

James stumbled backward, clutching at the table for support. “I—I let you see me in my pajamas! I let you cuddle with me! I—oh my god, I called you soft and—wait—” He glared at you, realization dawning. “You hissed at me when I called you bossy!”

You grinned. “Sure did.”

“And you glared at me! That was your glare! Oh, bloody hell, I should’ve known.” He groaned, collapsing onto the bed. “This is so embarrassing. Why didn’t you tell me?!”

You plopped down beside him, smirking. “I wanted to see how long it’d take you to figure it out.”

James buried his face in his hands. “I let you TOUCH MY ANTLERS.”

“And they’re very nice antlers,” you teased, poking his side.

He peeked at you through his fingers, pouting. “This is betrayal, you know. Pure betrayal.”

“James.”

“Nope. Betrayal.”

“James.”

He groaned. “Fine. But you owe me so much cuddling to make up for this.”

“Deal,” you said, pulling him into a hug.

“Wait,” he mumbled into your shoulder. “You do think my antlers are cool, right?”

You kissed his cheek. “The coolest, love.”

“Thought so.”

[moonysreid]

We always get sunshine!reader what about grumpy!reader, huh?

[moonysreid]

natasha romanoff is for the older sibling that had to grow up too fast - finding it hard to rely on others for support

[moonysreid]

spencer reid is for the people who continually get interrupted when they ‘talk too much’

[moonysreid]

sirius black is for the people who turn their trauma into self deprecating jokes