#or maybe a Dorcas or Lily one

[nikholascr0w]

Pandora Rosier is so underrated I love her with my whole heart. She is the light of my life and the reason I wake up in the morning.

[starryyvenus]

Restarting gossip girl (because I don’t know what season and episode I left off of) and I just can’t stop thinking about a marauders gossip girl au like I don’t know I see regulus and Sirius as either Serena and Blair the ships could be anything really

[swag696942069]

Chronically ill Evan Rosier.

That's it. That's the post.

[marlsboro-mckn]

Why you dead

girl what??? this isn’t divination class I’m literally alive and thriving

[where-is-vivian]

ocean's eight is so gay

i know i made a post about an ocean 8 au with the valkyries before but i would like to reiterate

[singmyaubade]

Good Luck Babe

poly!marauders x nerd!female!reader

summary: after being a wallflower throughout your first five years at hogwarts, you always thought that you could be invisible. but when you hear the marauders talking cruelly about you and proceeding to ask for your forgiveness after, well good luck babe.

warnings: eventual smut! 18+ heavy angst, cursing, reader wants to kill the marauders , swearing, unprotected sex, praise, oral (male receiving), jealousy

a/n: oh hey... this is kinda based on those cliche 2000's movies where the girl is ugly but not really and she has that glow up or whatever. this was written so quick and not proofread, don't kill me. i hope you enjoy and as always, i apologize if you hate this!

STARTING off your sixth year at Hogwarts being an entirely new person wasn't something that you had planned or expected.

On the inside, you felt exactly the same, the same girl who was bold and could ferociously win a fight when it came to her character.

The same girl who was witty and sarcastic, surprising half of the people around you when you made a joke once in a lifetime.

But on the outside, you didn't have an awkward mis-shaped bob and you no longer wore baggy jackets that didn't do a thing for your figure.

And you didn't hide your face anymore, trying your best to be invisible.

It wasn't that you were shy or that you felt like a loser but you thought social hierarchy was bullshit and the only thing you wanted to focus on was your studies.

You may have been a brave Gryffindor on the inside but on the outside, you had to play the part of a shy mouse as corny as that sounds.

Unfortunately for you, invisibility only tends to last for so long until one moment, you are a nobody and then all eyes are upon you.

And maybe, just maybe, if you hadn't heard the Marauders discussing you the previous year, you would have stayed the same.

You had passed by the boys dormitory to give Remus his textbooks back as you always did when you let you borrow when you heard them speaking of the very person behind the door,

"I still have yet to understand why Lily and the rest of them act like she's some charity case," James huffed, "I mean, she's not some sick patient, they only feel the need to pity her because of how she looks."

You always knew that James had a foul mouth but to be speaking about someone like this, it was cruel.

Remus hissed, "That's not nice Prongs,"

"I'm not even saying it to be a dick!" James groaned, "I just mean, I pity her more for the fact that they don't even invite her to anything outside of breakfast and dinner," He explained, causing Remus to go silent.

Sirius chuckled, shaking his head. "That's absolutely horrid."

James reclined on his bed, a smirk playing on his lips. "I’m just saying, if I were Y/N, I’d be mortified."

Your eyes widened as they began to water, they were speaking about you.

Remus leaned against the wall, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Maybe she just doesn’t want to hang out with Lily and the others."

"Moony, seriously," James shot back, sitting up. "Where is Y/N right now, and where are the other girls?" His eyebrow cocked, trying to make his point as Remus silenced.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Why don’t we investigate for ourselves?" He unfolded the Marauder's Map with a flourish. "Alright, we’ve got Lily, Dorcas, Mary, and Marlene all at Hogsmeade, but Y/N is..." His voice trailed off, eyes narrowing.

James leaned closer, annoyance creeping into his tone as he grabbed the map, "She's-" He stopped, the color fading from his face.

"Fucking spit it out!" Remus said next as he snatched the map finally and saw that the map had shown that you were right outside their door.

"Shit!" You heard Remus say as he started making his way to the door.

Hearing his footsteps approaching, you quickly moved away from the door, bolting for your room.

Once you made it back to your dorm, you had sinked the floor. You put your hand on your mouth, muffling yourself as you cried silently.

You honestly hated to even say it but you did consider Lily and the rest of them your friends. You had never really thought about how they didn't invite you to places.

And if you were being truthful, they had never asked you to have breakfast or dinner with them.

You had always just assumed that you could join but they never told you to leave or swooshed you off. Another part of you hated how stupid you were, trying to intrude on their private time.

You didn't want to let it get to you what a bunch of seventeen year old boys were saying but it did sting horribly.

But in a way, it also motivated you to be who you were on the inside. You already had the top marks in your entire year and your plan to work in the Ministry after Hogwarts had already been set.

And now your chance to be something at Hogwarts was right in front of you, an opportunity that you couldn't miss.

You had to do it for yourself.

The Marauders had no idea who you truly were or even cared to know. And although Remus was kind to you, you could always see that he never made any effort to be your friend.

Not that you expected him to but it only taught you that they truly thought you were some hopeless case.

And an assignment to make the Marauders bite their tongues was one that you couldn't bare to fail.

After hearing that, you decided to avoid the Marauders for the next month, especially with summer break approaching. To your surprise, you barely saw them outside of classes, never giving them a chance to reach out—even Remus.

And then that summer, everything changed. You let your hair grow past your shoulders, embracing your natural curls instead of straightening them. You started wearing clothes that were trendy and form-fitting, a huge contrast to your old style.

You discovered a newfound love for self-care, enjoying the process far more than you expected. Each day felt like a transformation, and by the end of summer, your mother couldn’t help but notice. “Finally listening to me about your style, huh?” she teased.

You only laughed as you embraced her,

If only she knew what had caused it in the first place.

As you said goodbye to your family, anticipation mingled with dread. You knew the train ride would be the least of your worries, but the welcome dinner and the ceremony ahead felt like they might just be hell reincarnate.

As you entered Hogwarts, you admired it as much as you did when you were a first year. The castle was something you considered a second home and everything about it was magical, there was no doubting that.

A crowd of students, including yourself, moved toward the Great Hall, and you settled into your usual seat at the Gryffindor table.

You spotted the Marauders and the usual group of girls approaching, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. They took their usual spots in front of you, with the girls on one side and the boys on the other. James sat beside you, and Lily was directly in front of him.

You never quite understood why they arranged themselves like that, but it hardly mattered in the moment.

They were busy in conversation before James had noticed someone next to him, his eyes widening. You couldn't quite read his face but it seemed like a mix of confusion and flustered.

You stared at him back but he still had yet to mutter a word. You cleared your throat, "Uh hello," You practically whispered.

He snapped back into reality, "Oh sorry, hi," He muttered back.

Silence took over you both as James couldn't find the words of what to say to you.

On one hand, he wanted to call you beautiful, to tell you that you were one of the prettiest girls he’d ever seen. On the other, he just wanted to stare at you for a few more minutes like a creep.

Lily noticed his gaze and leaned in, smirking. "Excuse my friend; we’re still trying to figure out if he has a brain."

"I thought we solved that decades ago," Marlene chimed in, stifling a laugh.

Lily turned to you with a curious smile. "I don’t believe I’ve seen you before. What’s your name?"

Are you actually fucking kidding me?

You scoffed, "I'm Y/N,"

The entire group looked at you in awe, even the ones who weren't chimed in on the conversation.

"Y/N L/N?" Sirius asked, mouth gaping.

"Yep, that one," You snorted.

They all looked like they had seen a ghost, "You look different," Marlene said as Mary shoved her.

"She means in a good way!" Mary added.

"Uh thanks," You said, awkwardly.

They all continued to stare at you like you were an exhibit in a museum, their eyes scanning you up and down.

"Do you all mind not staring at me?" you asked, trying to break the tension. They all looked away, feigning innocence as they muttered apologies.

"How have you been?" Lily asked, clearly trying to ease the awkwardness.

"Fine," you replied, your tone clipped.

You caught the pained expressions on the Marauders' faces, realizing they were the reason for your dismissive attitude.

"That's great," Lily said, forcing a smile.

You felt a wave of frustration at the awkwardness surrouding you and decided it was time to escape. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom," you announced, heading toward the exit before they could respond.

As you walked away, you could already here the mutters and whispers emerging from the table, the fascinating topic being you.

You paced as you heard footsteps trailing behind you, but you ignored them, letting your gaze wander around the castle.

"Y/N!" someone called out, startling you.

You turned to see Sirius, James, and Remus hurrying after you. You only let out a snort before continuing your same way.

A hand suddenly reached around your forearm as you turned to see Remus. You quickly snatched your hand away, finally stopping to look at the group of boys who you despised.

Crossing your arms, you shot them a hostile look. "What?"

"We just wanna—"

"We're so—"

"Listen, we just—"

They all spoke at once, but you scoffed and turned back toward the bathroom, starting to walk away.

You were hoping that they would realize you wanted nothing to do with them but instead, it only made them want to chase you more.

They quickened their pace, and you spun around sharply. "For fuck's sake, what do you want?" you snapped.

James took a breath, his expression earnest. "I'm sorry for what I said. I've been thinking about it since you left. I was an awful twat, and you didn't deserve a thing of what I said."

You let out a sarcastic laugh, "Are you serious?" You asked as your expression changed to furious, "You basically called me a loser and said that Lily and the rest of them were only hanging out with me out of pity,"

James hissed as your statement, feeling the razor in your voice.

"-And now you all want to act as if I should just forgive you since I don't look the same anymore," You got closer to James's face, "Fuck off."

You turned your heel again and this time, the boys didn't follow you.

You finally entered the bathroom and shut the door behind you. Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you struggled to read the expression on your face. You were furious at the Marauders, and the idea of forgiving them felt impossible.

Yet, there was a flicker of gratitude that you felt for the change you’d undergone. You’d gained a new confidence that felt good, but the sting of their cruel words still lingered in your mind.

And you knew that you couldn't let it get to you but knowing they thought that of you, even Remus. It still did things to you that you would never admit out loud.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you realized it was almost time to head to the dormitory.

The rest of the night had flown by, with first years being introduced to their new home for the next six years while everyone else relaxed in the common room. Despite curfews, fifth years and above knew they could hang out longer—the curfew was mostly for the first years anyway.

"Caput Draconis," you muttered, and the Fat Lady nodded, granting you entrance.

Stepping into the common room, your heart sank as you spotted the last group you wanted to see. They noticed you just as quickly, encouraging you to pick up your pace toward the dorm.

"Hey, Y/N!" Dorcas called out, making you wince as you turned to see her waving.

The Marauders looked down, shame etched on their faces, avoiding your gaze as if you were Medusa.

You approached them slowly, dread settling in your stomach as they eyed you like a science project.

"We were just about to play a fun little game," Dorcas said enticingly, while Marlene snorted beside her.

"I don’t know if Spin the Bottle is a great idea for the first night back," Marlene added, taking a sip of her beer.

"A little peck never hurt anyone," Lily chimed in, clapping her hands together.

Of all people, you’d never expect Lily Evans to approve such a thing. This was the same girl who nearly fainted when she heard about Marlene and Dorcas kissing the previous year.

"I don’t know if this is the game for me," you replied, eyeing the group warily.

"Of course it is!" Lily insisted, but you raised an eyebrow. "Oh my gosh! Not like that, I just mean it's a fun game for us all to play," she quickly added, looking flustered.

Part of you wanted to say no and retreat to your bed, but that was the old you, and you knew it wouldn’t help. This was a new year, and you were determined to embrace new experiences.

Besides, you’d never participated in any scandalous games for all of the years you've been at Hogwarts—it felt like a crime in itself.

So, after a moment’s hesitation, you said, "Okay, sure." The girls erupted in cheers, while the Marauders exchanged worried glances.

What if you had to kiss one of them? Would you refuse and create a scene? Would you want to strangle them for even suggesting it?

The possibilities raced through their mind, but there was no turning back as everyone began to form a circle.

As you sat in the circle, a shiver of nervousness enveloped you. You had never kissed anyone before and the whole thought made you nervous within itself.

Don't get it wrong, you've had chances but they never seemed right and you certainly weren't kissing Matthew Trunchbull underneath the bleachers of the Quidditch field.

So when you got offered a shot of firewhiskey to cool your nerves by Marlene, you took it happily as it burned down your throat.

You brushed off all the negative thoughts entering your mind,

What really is the worst thing that could happen?

[brokenmenswhore]

A part three to proposition please 🙏

holy SHIT you guys you’re all FIENDS

a proposition: exploration | poly!marauders

#3

pairing: poly!marauders x fem!reader (james, remus, and sirius, featuring alecto, dorcas, evan, lily, and mary)

warnings: smut (MDNI 18+)

a/n: i really hope this was worth the wait, thank you for your patience <3

a proposition: masterlist

────── ☾ ──────

“Morning!”

The group at the Gryffindor table turned their heads toward you.

“Morning,” Remus responded, twisting his body to see you standing directly behind him.

“You guys mind if I sit with you?”

“Not at all, gorgeous,” Remus flirted, patting the spot to his right as he took another bite of french toast.

You blushed as you sat down, smiling to everyone else at the table as a greeting.

As you settled in, the group continued the conversation they were having about upcoming exams. Being a year below them, you didn’t have much to offer, and you were growing bored.

You leaned over toward Remus, confidence beaming due to your desire for attention as you whispered, “thank you for yesterday. You were really nice to me.”

Remus turned his attention away from the group as he looked at you, smiling, “of course, but there’s no need to thank me. It was a pleasure.”

His flirtations made you blush. You thought about how funny it was that he had literally fucked you, yet one little comment made your heart putty in his hands.

You were blushy and giggly like a schoolgirl with a crush, completely unable to control yourself. “I’m glad it was a pleasure.”

Remus smiled even wider, catching onto your antics. “I fucked you once and now you’re in a mood, huh?” he teased.

“Maybe.”

Remus looked around the table, who still hadn’t noticed his absence from the conversation, and he took your hand, leaving his seat and subsequently pulling you up to a stand.

“We’ll be back,” Remus said.

“No no no,” James said, “no, that’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair?” Remus asked.

“Mate, you’re the only one here who’s been with her, and it was last night. Keep it in your pants, we’re literally at breakfast,” James pouted.

“Can’t help it when she asks,” Remus smiled.

You blushed even harder, ducking your head behind Remus’s shoulder in embarrassment.

The table gave up on fighting Remus. James turned back around with a sigh and continued eating and chatting, as did everyone at the table except for Sirius, who stayed eyeing you until you were out of view.

Remus pulled you down a few hallways until he found a sufficiently quiet corridor with empty classrooms.

“Remus, what if someone-“

“They never use these classrooms,” Remus said, quietly clicking the door shut, “one too many hexes, I suppose.”

“But-“

“You look so good right now.”

Your protestations died in your throat as Remus walked closer and closer to you. You took a step backward, and your lower back collided into an empty desk.

“Why so quiet all of a sudden?” Remus teased.

“You make me nervous,” you admitted without thinking.

“Yeah? Nervous how?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“I don’t know, like, I just- I keep thinking about yesterday,” you said.

Remus began to lightly run his fingers up the side of your body. “What about it?”

“You know what about.”

“I wanna hear you say it.”

“You’re joking.”

“Nope.”

You took a deep breath. “I keep thinking about how we had sex. Happy?”

“Not quite,” Remus answered, “I wanna know what exactly about us having sex you keep thinking about.”

“I don’t know, you, I guess?”

“Me, hm?”

“Yeah.”

“You know what I keep thinking about?”

You cocked your head to the side.

“You.”

“Me?”

“Mhm,” Remus continued, “you underneath me, to be specific.”

As he spoke, Remus began to slowly pull your skirt up to your waist, causing your breathing to hitch in your throat.

“Well well well, is this all for me?”

Remus ran a finger over your underwear but still between your folds, the wetness already having soaked through the fabric, leaving an evident stain.

“Yes,” you admitted.

Remus removed his hand, instead wrapping his arms around the backs of your legs, causing you to gasp as you jumped upward. Remus moved you backward, and your ass hit the desk behind you. He took residence standing between your legs, which in turn made your skirt stay bunched up at your waist.

“Can I try something?” Remus asked.

“What do you wanna try?” you asked, your breathing heavy in anticipation from Remus’s close proximity.

“You.”

“Me what?”

“I wanna try you.”

You furrowed your brows in confusion. “You already did, we already had sex. I’m confused.”

Remus chuckled. “No, baby, I wanna taste you.”

“Oh.”

“That okay?”

“I don’t really know what that entails, but yeah.”

“You know you can always just tell me to stop, right?” Remus checked.

“Yes.”

Remus nodded at your response and sunk to his knees, looking up at you as he pushed your underwear to the side.

“What if-“

“Don’t be self conscious baby, you’re beautiful,” Remus eased your nerves, and you took a deep breath as you forced your muscles to relax.

Remus stuck his tongue out and tasted between your folds, moving slowly and gentle so as not to overstimulate you too early, and you shuddered at the contact.

Remus maintained eye contact as you watched him move his tongue up and down, tasting your evident wetness. You moaned when he flicked his tongue faster directly on your clit.

Your body jolted, and Remus made a sound of satisfaction as he continued his work on your clit, alternating between flicking you with his tongue and sucking and kissing.

“Fuck,” you sighed.

Remus reached a hand up to grab yours, intertwining your fingers with his to help steady you in a gesture of intimacy that you really appreciated.

You squeezed his hand as you became a whiny, submissive mess.

Remus’s other hand gripped the flesh of your ass that was accessible, pushing you closer to him and increasing the intensity of your pleasure.

You threw your head back, and your hand instinctively went to the back of Remus’s head, lightly pulling the strands of his hair.

You snapped out of your daze for a moment and quickly removed your hand, self conscious about the action made while you were lost in pleasure.

Remus pulled away from you. “Go for it, baby, don’t hold back.”

You knew he was intentionally calling you baby because you mentioned yesterday that you liked it, and the remembrance was only adding to your arousal.

You swallowed your self consciousness and resumed playing with Remus’s hair. He moaned into you at the feeling, clearly happy about it.

“Shit, Rem-“

Remus moved his mouth faster, desperately trying to pull an orgasm from you.

“Rem- Remmy-“

Remus pulled away for a brief moment to say, “feels so good you’re callin me nicknames now, huh?”

“S-sorry,” you stuttered.

“Uh uh, you better keep moaning little nicknames for me like that.”

You simply moaned in response, losing strength to stay sitting up as you began to lightly grind your hips against Remus’s face, so lost in pleasure you didn’t care about being embarrassed anymore.

Remus slapped the outside of your thigh, looking up at you. He decided to test the waters with you. “I said keep moaning my fucking name.”

You liked the dominance. “Yes, Remmy.”

“Good girl,” he praised, reconnecting his mouth to you and still focusing on your clit, deciding to save anything else for another time, as this was your first time doing this, and he wanted to take it slow. He knew not many of the others would.

You threw your head back, anchoring yourself with your hand on Remus’s head as your moans became louder and louder.

Remus let go of your hand and held your waist, now completely gripping your hips as he pushed you as close to him as he could.

Your high was approaching quickly, and your moans were becoming high pitched and weak.

“I’m, it’s- Remmy, I-“

Remus didn’t pull away, but instead looked up at you to watch your face as you came.

You threw your head back instinctively, your chest rapidly rising and falling as your orgasm washed over you.

Remus stayed between your legs to lap up any and all wetness, and only stood when he was satisfied.

You were trying hard to catch your breath, and Remus smiled at you. “Feel good?”

You smiled in return. “Fuck.”

Remus kissed you, and you could taste yourself on his lips.

“I’m not even hungry for breakfast anymore,” Remus joked.

────── ☾ ──────

All you could think about was Remus.

You felt like a woman possessed. You couldn’t focus in lectures because all you could think of was Remus’s head between your legs. How he sounded when he moaned into you. The way he called you baby when he fucked you. The way he runs his fingers through his messy hair. You were enamored, and you were becoming horny much more frequently than you ever imagined.

Even when you were with the group, you stayed attached to Remus. You always sat with your thigh against his, and even sometimes stood holding his arm. You were obsessed, and the group noticed.

You had just joined, and you were already completely infatuated with just one of them, and that concerned the group, so they decided to meet without you, something they rarely did, but found necessary.

“She’s absolutely obsessed with you, mate.”

Remus flicked embers from his cigarette into the ashtray in the center of the courtyard. “I don’t know what to tell you. I like her, if she wants me, I’m not gonna say no. It’s her choice who she wants.”

“Come on, guys, go easy on Y/N,” Lily said, “every girl gets a little obsessed with their first time. It’s the same way I was with James.”

“If that ain’t the truth,” James said, raising his bottle of firewhiskey.

Sirius took the opportunity to stand up and grab the raised bottle, and he downed the remainder of its contents in an instant.

“Someone else needs to fuck her,” Mary chimed in, “simple as that.”

“She’ll get there, why rush her?” Remus defended.

“Oh shut up mate, you just like having someone want you so bad,” James argued.

Remus shrugged before taking another drag of his cigarette, not completely disagreeing with James’s sentiment.

Sirius cleared his throat, and the attention of the room turned to him. In an annoyed tone, he spoke, “someone go and fuck her, then.”

“Why don’t you go find her?” Dorcas suggested to Sirius.

“Maybe I will.”

“No, no, I got this,” James said, standing up and straightening his shirt, “I know my way to the Hufflepuff common room.”

“She’s not in the common room, she’s in potions,” Sirius said.

“What, you know her schedule now?”

Sirius shrugged and rested his elbows on his knees, the wind knocking a few strands of hair in front of his face.

James threw his hands in the air. “I don’t know where the Hufflepuff potions classroom is, what do you want me to do? Fuck.”

“Just find her later. It’s not like she’s gonna fuck you in a classroom anyways,” Dorcas said.

Remus scoffed to himself, not realizing it was loud enough for the group to hear. Everyone’s gaze shot toward him.

“Sorry,” Remus smiled, clearly not sorry at all.

“Oh come on,” James said, throwing his hands up in the air, “I don’t even have a shot.”

“You’ll be fine, mate, just try manhandling her a little,” Remus said casually.

“Yeah?”

“She seemed to like the little bit I did when I tried,” Remus revealed.

By the time classes were over, you were nowhere to be seen. You hadn’t had the need to walk past the courtyard at all, but that didn’t mean James gave up. Instead, he just walked around the Hufflepuff hallways until he saw you.

“Hey Y/N!” he exclaimed when he finally caught your eye.

“Hey, James, what are you doing down here?” you said, approaching the common room door.

“Do you guys get to snatch snacks?” he asked, his inner monologue taking over as he noticed the Hufflepuff common room was extremely close to the kitchens.

“You came down here because you wanted a snack?” you asked, turning to face him.

“I guess you could say that,” he responded.

“What does that mean?”

“Shouldn’t you know now? I mean, I thought Remus took care of teaching you that already,” James smirked.

You blushed and bowed your head briefly. “He’s quick to talk, that one.”

“Why have you been so attached to him?” James asked.

You processed the question before speaking. “I don’t know, I guess I didn’t realize I had been. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, angel, no worries,” James said, stepping closer and closer to you, “I think I can help that.”

“Yeah?” you played along, “how?”

“Follow me and you’ll find out.”

You smiled as you took James’s hand, your other hand holding your books to your chest as you mindlessly followed James’s lead. You watched the muscles in his arm flex as he held onto your hand, and you felt yourself growing excited.

You were becoming attached to Remus, and you knew you had to get that out of your system. Besides, James was hot, and you were now perpetually horny, so why not indulge in a little fun?

────── ☾ ──────

“I am not going in there.”

James sighed. “C’mon, it really isn’t as scary as it looks. Promise.”

“No no, I think it is as scary as it looks,” you protested, “I’ve heard horror stories about this place, James. It’s called the Shrieking Shack for a reason.”

“Would you just trust me?” James said.

“In theory,” you responded, but still swallowed your fears and let him direct you toward the dilapidated building.

You were surprised by its contents. The interior was decorated somewhat cozy, and a large bed sat in the corner across from a warm fireplace. Lily sat on a couch facing the flames, reading for pleasure in her solitude.

“Hey, Lil, I’m sorry, we didn’t know you were out here,” James said when he spotted her.

“No worries,” Lily said, standing, “I can get going, and leave you two alone.”

She started to exit the room, but the moment she walked past James, he called out to her. “Wait. Stay.”

You turned to James, then to Lily, then back to James again. Maybe he didn’t bring you here to fuck. Maybe he really just wanted to hang out.

“Yeah? Is that alright with you, Y/N?” Lily asked.

Your gaze continued to shift between James and Lily. “I think I’m confused.”

James took a step closer to you, shifting his body behind you as he swept your hair off of one shoulder. He leaned toward your ear, whispering, “No, I don’t think you are.”

He then lightly kissed your neck, momentarily sucking on a few sensitive spots. You felt yourself lose control as your head fell backwards and your eyes closed. His lips felt like heaven against your skin.

You forgot Lily was in the room until you felt her presence in front of you. You opened your eyes but they almost instantly shut again as Lily connected her lips to yours. Your mouths moved in sync as you let yourself melt into their touches.

James’s hands ran down your sides, pushing down the garments on your lower body. You shivered as the cool air hit your now bare skin.

“Here, c’mere,” James said, directing you over to the space in between the couch and the fireplace. “Better?”

“Mhm,” you vocalized.

James studied you for a moment. He remembered what Remus has said earlier about manhandling you, and decided to take the chance. He stood in front of you and grabbed your throat, lightly squeezing his fingers as he pulled your body closer to his, your face mere inches from his. “You gonna be good?” he whispered.

“Yes,” you answered.

“Good girl,” he praised, his unoccupied hand connecting to your clit, immediately rubbing steady circles on you as he studied your expression.

Your mouth opened and you tried to moan, but the pressure around your throat meant every noise came out as a shaky breath or a small, strangled moan.

James’s eyes never left yours as your brows furrowed and you tried to shift your weight, but his grip on you was firm. He studied exactly how your features shifted and contorted when he moved fast or hit a particularly good spot, and he could feel a straining in his jeans.

Your arousal grew each time you tried to move away but couldn’t. James was certainly the most muscular of any of the group, and he worked out the most, almost by default from playing Quidditch. You were happy he was manhandling you: he was perfect for it.

James continued to touch you as you struggled to remain standing, but luckily, Lily came to your aid, holding your hips from behind.

“Aweh, Jamesie, I think she’s gonna fall if you let her go,” Lily taunted.

James listened to Lily, then directed his attention back to you. “Open your eyes,” he demanded, and you did just that, “if you fall, it better be to your knees.”

You nodded your head up and down as much as you could with James’s grip on you, and he immediately let go of your throat. You felt your knees buckle, and despite the fact that you probably could have stood, you sunk to your knees in front of James.

He smiled wickedly as he unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down, standing in front of you in his boxers once his shirt was removed.

You looked up at him and swallowed hard, turned on but also nervous.

“I’ve never done this before,” you reminded him, “I don’t think it’ll be good.”

“You don’t have to do it, angel,” James said, fearing he was pressuring you.

“I want to,” you admitted, “I just- I-“

“Want me to talk you through it?”

“You don’t have to- I just- I don’t know-“

James sank down to your level, kneeling on the floor in front of you and taking your hands in his. “If you don’t wanna do this, you tell me whenever. Otherwise, don’t be embarrassed. I’ll walk you through it. We stop when you want. Don’t worry about it being bad, baby, that pretty mouth around my cock couldn’t possibly be bad. Lily can help, too. She’s got it down to a science. Okay?”

You blushed and dropped your head to hide it. James maneuvered his own boxers off, before standing up again, his semi-hard cock almost level with your face.

“You wanna watch what I do first?” Lily suggested, and you immediately nodded. You would feel a lot more comfortable seeing her do it first, partially so you could have a reference, but partially because you couldn’t stand the thought of doing it in front of Lily without Lily having done anything sexual in front of you first.

Lily shuffled on her knees toward James, who smiled down at her. She took James’s cock in her hand and pointed the tip directly outward.

“Boys like it when you work ‘em up first, especially this one,” Lily smiled.

Lily kept James’s cock steady as she licked a stripe from the base to the tip, circling her tongue around the tip before pulling away to speak again.

“Since it’s your first time, don’t rush it,” she said, “go nice and slow and let yourself adjust. Like this.”

Lily wrapped her mouth around James’s cock, and he immediately threw his head back and let out a moan. She slowly sunk her head further and further down.

James’s hand instinctively found it’s way to the back of Lily’s head, causing Lily to pull away with a pop. “She can’t see if your arm is in the way, Jamie!”

“Fuck, sorry,” James breathed out, clearly worked up from even one small moment.

“The little moans mean he likes it,” Lily said, “just watch your teeth. Try to think about hollowing out your cheeks.”

You nodded and watched as Lily reconnected her mouth to James’s cock. He clenched his hands into fists to stop himself from holding her head against him, and you could tell he was fighting to keep his resolve. Lily moved her head as far down as she could go, then almost entirely off, then back down again. She kept a steady pace, and eventually James looked down at her, and Lily forced her eyes open to look back at him.

“Fuck, we love it when you fucking look at us,” James said, talking to you, but looking at Lily.

Lily continued to suck him off for a few moments before disconnecting herself from him again, shifting backwards on her knees to make room for you.

You made yourself comfortable as you took a deep breath. You looked up at James, and he nearly combusted when he made eye contact with you. “Shit, baby, don’t look at me like that.”

“Will you tell me if anything is uncomfortable?” you asked.

The innocence coating your voice was driving James crazy, and he was growing more and more eager by the second. “Shit, yes, I promise.”

You copied Lily’s initial actions, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock as you wrapped your lips around his tip. You remembered what Lily said about teeth, and you did your best to avoid having them touch James. You moved your lips as far down James’s shaft as you could before you felt his tip his the back of your throat, causing you to gag around him and pull away.

“It’s okay, that’s okay! That’s totally normal,” Lily said, immediately putting her hand on your back to comfort you, “just go a little less far this time.”

You wrapped your lips around James again, this time only sinking down as far as you could without his cock hitting the back of your throat. You slowly pulled back and then pushed in again, trying to gage how it feels to move. You focused on keeping your cheeks hollowed out.

After a few tries, you got your jaw in a comfortable position. You looked up at James, who was fighting for his life to keep it together. He was gripping Lily’s hand in his own, and his other hand was in front of his face, covering his own mouth.

You pulled away from James. “Are you okay?” you asked.

“Yeah, baby, just didn’t wanna make a noise and stress you out.”

“Am I doing okay?”

“You’re doing so good for me, baby.”

You gave him a small smile before sinking back onto his length. You found your comfortable position again, and began to move more and more, gradually increasing your speed as you adjusted.

“Atta girl,” Lily said.

You braced yourself by placing your palms on his thighs, allowing yourself to more easily get closer and closer to him.

As time went on, James lost himself in the pleasure, and eventually completely forgot that this was your first time, and that he was supposed to be gentle.

His eyes were closed and his head was thrown back as he placed his hand on the back of your head, forcing you closer to him.

You tried your best to focus on keeping your cheeks hollow, and realized you should breathe through your nose. You knew you could stop James at any time, but you didn’t really want to. You relished in the knowledge that your mouth around him felt so good that he lost control.

James began to buck his hips forward, causing you to still your head as he took over. He fucked your mouth fast, chasing his high as you tried your best to breathe and stay still.

Lily grabbed your shoulders and pulled you away from him. James snapped out of his trance, and looked down to you concerned.

“Shit, angel, are you alright?” he asked, leaning down and running a thumb over your cheek.

You nodded yes as you caught your breath.

You turned to Lily, who said, “it’s no fun if he comes already.”

James got down to your level, kneeling on the floor as he begged, “seven hells, Y/N, please let us fuck you.”

You leaned toward James and gently kissed him, and he immediately reciprocated, running his fingers through your hair and deepening the kiss.

He pulled you against his body as he leaned backward, straightening his legs until he was laying flat against the floor, holding your body against his while still kissing you.

“Flip around,” he said.

You gave him a confused look, but instead of explaining, he simply repeated, “flip the fuck around.”

You awkwardly shifted your body around until your back was to James. You were nervous to put the pressure of your body against his chest, so you knelt on the floor between his legs, unsure of what to do.

You luckily didn’t have to ask. James leaned upward and wrapped his arms around your body, pulling your back flush against his chest as he laid back down against the rug.

“Legs on either side of me, angel,” he said, and you moved your knees to either side of his waist.

Even before you had sex, you had some understanding of how it worked, but this was all new for you. You listened to any instruction James gave you without question, because it wasn’t like you knew what you were doing anyway.

James unwrapped his arms from your body and ran his fingers over your arms before pulling them backwards, your head nearly knocking back into his head from surprise as he positioned your arms on either side of his head, allowing you to hold yourself up.

“You okay?” he checked in once he had you in the position he wanted.

“Mhm,” you responded.

He gripped your hips, his strength overwhelming you as he lifted your hips with ease. You helped him, lifting your knees until you felt him stop.

James gave his cock a few fast strokes before he positioned himself at your entrance. He pushed your hips down, trying to be slow for your sake, but somewhat failing. When you were all the way sat down, you could hear James’s head hit the floor as he threw it back.

He continued to move your hips up and down, relishing in the pleasure. After a few thrusts, he choked out, “Lil?”

“Already here,” she said, her voice sultry.

Your eyes were squeezed shut, but when you heard her voice, you snapped out of your daze to see she was right between your legs.

“Hi,” you squeaked out.

“Hi,” she responded.

She straightened her back until her lips were mere inches away from yours. She waited until you cried out at a sharp thrust of James’s hips to kiss you. She wrapped her fingers in your hair to keep your head in place, her tongue finding it’s way into your mouth as you moaned.

When she pulled away, she kept eye contact, and began to move down your body. When she was back in between your legs, you nodded to her, granting her permission.

Lily’s tongue began to taste between your folds. James’s thrusts we’re growing hard, his hips now moving more than yours, so Lily didn’t have to do much work.

Her tongue flicked against you as your hips moved up and down, the added pleasure causing your arousal to build rapidly.

She gazed up at you, moving her mouth closer to you so she could suck at your clit as you watched her.

“Fuck, I can’t-“ you moaned.

James released one of your hips and gripped your hair, forcing your head to tilt downward and watch Lily.

Lily sucked and licked at your clit, focusing on circling your clit with her tongue, knowing it would help drive you over the edge.

“Fuck, c’mere,” James nearly growled, knocking your arms and holding your back against his chest, your head falling beside his.

He began to fuck into you even harder, hitting your sweet spot with every vicious thrust. The stretched out position allowed Lily more access to your core, and she gently pawed at James’s balls as she continued to taste you.

While everything about the moment was heated, what sent you over the edge was James’s hold on you. His muscular arms held you against him so effortlessly, but so strong that you couldn’t dare to move if you wanted to. You felt so close to him, and the thought did you in.

“I’m com-“ you couldn’t even finish the sentence before your high crashed over you.

James immediately pulled you up and off of him and allowed Lily to taste your juices, sucking at your entrance until you had calmed down and were clean. As she did so, James used one hand to hold his cock against your thigh, fucking it until he came, spilling his seed on your thigh and hip.

Lily leaned over to lick up the come all over you, making sure you were clean before she backed away.

You dropped your hips to the floor, exhaustion overwhelming you as James shifted backward and allowed you to rest your head on his legs.

Naked and fucked out, James began to run his fingers through your sweat soaked hair. You stayed there for a moment, while Lily reclothed herself and organized her books, before you asked, “how long have you guys been coming here?”

“Years,” James answered, “Remus started coming here during his transitions, and the rest of us would come help him out. It kinda became our place.”

You tilted your head to look up at James. “His what?”

“His transitions. Transformations. Whatever.”

“Transformations?”

“Remus is a werewolf, honey,” Lily chimed in, “there’s no way you couldn’t have known that.”

You did not know that.

“Sirius can turn into a dog,” James blurted out.

“A what?”

“You have so much to learn,” James teased.

“A dog? Like a dog? Like a literal dog?”

“Mhm,” James smiled, “pretty cute dog, too. Big fluffy black thing. Can be kinda scary. He doesn’t really talk about it.”

“What can you turn into?” you looked up to James.

“Baby, you just saw the animal I can be.”

“Oh be honest with her, James,” Lily said, “that wasn’t even the half of it.”

────── ☾ ──────

taglist: @alixmarauders @riddlemenottsluttyslytherin @twilightlover2007 @hcqwxrtss123 @queerndepressed @prongs-wolfstar-marauders @flowersarcute @remussbitch @ch4rlotte35 @alwaysanundertone @urfavhanna @donovorita28 @randomcreator-09 @joey-hoey @chronically-sh-ana @pinksmellslikelove @blvebanisters @aaronhotchswife @roseblack1864 @chaevvonders @champomiel

[marauroon]

𝟏 𝐭𝐨 𝟏𝟎𝟎 — 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑. (𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧)

lily forces her help on james after discovering an unsent letter he wrote to you at the end of last year. it doesn’t exactly go as planned.

CW | characters are 17-18, lily is the best wingman, banter on banter, MDNI AFTER A CERTAIN POINT (there is a separate warning before it begins)

james potter x fem!reader | 18.7k | series masterlist.

main masterlist.

AN | and so, 1-100 comes to an end, thank you so much to everyone who’s kept up with reading and supporting this series, i love you guys sm !! 🫶

There’s something about stepping back into the Great Hall after a summer away that always makes your stomach twist.

Maybe it’s the grandeur of it—four long house tables glittering under a sky enchanted to mirror the fading twilight—or maybe it’s the realisation that this is it. Seventh year. Your last first feast at Hogwarts. You glance around at the familiar faces, older now, and think how quickly everything’s changed, and how much it hasn't at all.

The Gryffindor table is buzzing, voices overlapping as friends greet each other, chatter about summer holidays, and sneak wary glances at the staff table where the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor is already under intense scrutiny. You sit between Lily and Dorcas, with Marlene just opposite, her chin in her hand as she eyes the new teacher with suspicious intensity.

“I’m giving him a two weeks before he loses his temper,” Marlene says, not even blinking. “One, if he’s already had a mental breakdown before arriving,”

“You’re just bitter because Professor Lome never liked your essays,” Dorcas points out, stealing a bread roll from the centre plate before anyone else can. “He gave me full marks on that piece about curse detection,”

You’re half-listening, mostly looking around the room. It’s the same as ever, and yet not. Everyone’s taller. Slightly leaner. Tired in that way only seventeen-year-olds on the cusp of adulthood can be. The weight of NEWTs, of future plans, of knowing this is your last go at all of it.

The buzz of the hall dies down as Professor McGonagall stands at the staff table. The sorting ceremony has already taken place—little first-years blinking up at the ceiling, clutching their house badges like lifelines—and now it’s time for the usual announcements.

“Welcome back, students, to another year at Hogwarts. A particular welcome to our first-years, who I hope will find these halls as challenging and rewarding as the generations before them,”

You tune out a bit as she goes through the basics: forbidden forest is still forbidden, Zonko’s products are still banned, and any students caught brewing illegal potions will be given detention and a strongly worded letter home.

Then, she straightens, and there's a tiny spark in her eye that sets everyone leaning forward.

“And now, I’m pleased to announce this year’s Head Boy and Head Girl of Gryffindor. A pair who will, I trust, represent the house and the student body with diligence and pride. Please join me in congratulating Lily Evans and James Potter.”

Silence.

Then—

“What?” Dorcas shrieks before she can stop herself, hand flying to cover her mouth.

Lily’s face is a perfect blend of composed and internally screaming. You can see it in the way she holds her posture just a touch too rigidly, in the slight widening of her eyes.

A few seats down, James has frozen. Mid-sip of pumpkin juice. You think he might choke on it.

The hall erupts in applause, mostly polite, some genuine. The Gryffindor table is particularly vocal—Sirius is cheering obnoxiously loud, Remus is clapping with amused restraint, and Peter looks like someone just told him Christmas has come early.

“Head Boy?” Marlene mouths, turning to stare at you and Lily like you’ve both gone mad. “Him?”

You glance at Lily, who is clearly experiencing an existential crisis in real-time.

James slowly sets his goblet down. “I—what?” he says weakly. “Me?”

“I… wasn’t told,” Lily says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I knew I got Head Girl, McGonagall owled me over the summer, but—him?”

You smother a laugh. “You okay, Lils?”

She glares at you. “No.”

James, for his part, finally seems to have processed the information. He sits a little straighter, shoulders back, trying for composed but mostly looking like he might be sick.

“I’m already Quidditch Captain,” he mutters to Sirius, who slaps him on the back with far too much enthusiasm.

“You’ll be brilliant,” Sirius grins. “Just think—power, responsibility, and even more excuses to boss people around.”

Remus raises an eyebrow. “You do realise it’s actual work, right? Prefect meetings, patrols, schedules…”

James pales slightly. “Bloody hell,”

You and the girls settle back into your seats as the feast begins properly. Food appears across the tables in a shimmer of golden light, and the scent of roast chicken and buttered potatoes fills the air. For a while, everyone’s distracted—eating, catching up, stealing sips of pumpkin juice between bites. The announcement lingers in the air though, rippling down the table in whispered disbelief and mild chaos.

You poke at your roasties, thoughts elsewhere. You’re happy for Lily—Head Girl is so her. She’s meticulous, clever, endlessly fair. But James? It’s not that he’s a bad student—he’s clever when he applies himself—but his reputation precedes him. Pranks. Detentions. A casual disregard for rules that somehow charmed most of the school and irritated the rest. You look down the table to where he’s now loudly panicking about his term planner.

“He’s actually worried about having too much to do,” Marlene says, eyebrows raised. “Is this a new personality shift or did he hit his head over the summer?”

“He’ll be fine,” Dorcas says through a mouthful of carrots. “Maybe this’ll actually knock the arrogance out of him. Or at least make him too busy to be annoying,”

Lily just stabs a pea with unnecessary force. “I’m going to murder Dumbledore.”

You snort, covering it with a cough. “Think of it this way—you get to boss him around,”

“Please,” she says dryly, “he’ll talk about the Marauders and Quidditch and I’ll be asleep by the third sentence,”

You laugh properly at that, and the sound feels good. Light. Familiar.

Marlene leans closer, dropping her voice. “Anyway, more important question—have you had any more letters?”

You blink. It takes you a second to realise what she’s referring to.

“Oh,” you say, slowly. “No. Not since the last one. You know, the one I got right before term ended,”

There’s a beat of silence, the kind that means they’re all about to jump in.

“You’ve still got them, don’t you?” Dorcas says, eyes narrowing.

“Of course she does,” Lily says before you can speak. “She practically laminated the bloody things,”

You shove her shoulder with yours. “I did not. I just… kept them. They were nice,”

“Nice?” Marlene repeats. “They were poetry. Like, actual effort. Not ‘fancy you, meet me in the broom cupboard’—actual, personal, stupidly romantic letters,”

Dorcas sighs dreamily. “Still can’t believe we never figured out who it was. No hints? Nothing?”

You shake your head, and try not to let your disappointment show too much. “They just… stopped. That last one before summer hols—it was like a goodbye. Like they didn’t know what else to add,”

“Bit tragic,” Lily says softly, and despite her sarcasm earlier, you hear the real sympathy in it.

You shrug, reaching for a second helping of Yorkshire pudding to hide the sudden ache in your chest. “I don’t know. It’s stupid. I didn’t even know who they were,”

“But they knew you,” Dorcas says. “Really well, apparently,”

The words make something twist inside you. Because she’s right.

Whoever they were, they did know you. The letters had come at your lowest points last year—when the pressure of coursework, the drama with Severus, and everything else felt like too much. Each letter had felt like a lifeline, like someone reaching across the void just to remind you that you weren’t invisible.

You miss that. You miss them.

“I just thought maybe,” you say quietly, “there’d be another one waiting. When we got back,”

The silence around your little corner of the table grows thick with understanding. No one says anything for a moment. Then Lily bumps your knee under the table.

“Well,” she says, with the kind of finality only she can manage, “maybe they’re just waiting for the right time,”

You nod, but you don’t believe it. Not really.

The conversation moves on. Marlene brings up the new Hogsmeade permission rules (apparently no more ‘mysterious illnesses’ to get out of going—thanks to a Slytherin who faked being poisoned last year). Dorcas starts planning the best window seat in the common room for her study spot, and Lily starts stress-talking about her NEWT timetable.

But your thoughts don’t quite leave the letters.

You wonder where they are now—your mystery writer. If they’re even still thinking about you. If they’re watching you across the Great Hall, debating whether or not to start again.

You hope so.

Even if you don’t say it out loud, not even to Lily.

Even if you’re pretending not to look toward the other end of the table for who it might be.

—

It becomes a weekly ritual. Every Wednesday night, Lily Evans storms back into the Gryffindor common room around ten-thirty, throws herself onto the armchair closest to the fire, and launches into a detailed monologue about the trials and tribulations of patrolling the corridors with James Potter.

And every Wednesday night, you, Marlene, and Dorcas do your best not to laugh too obviously.

“He just won’t shut up,” Lily declares one evening, halfway through untangling her scarf from her hair. “Every corridor, every stairwell, it’s Quidditch this, Marauders that—and not even mildly interesting Marauder tales. No, no. Apparently Sirius once managed to transfigure a Slytherin’s tie into a snake and got away with it by pretending it was a defence demonstration. That’s what I have to listen to for two hours,”

Dorcas, stretched out on the rug with a textbook balanced on her stomach, snorts. “Honestly, sounds like quality entertainment,”

“You do realise he’s trying to impress you, right?” Marlene adds, not looking up from her Ancient Runes homework.

Lily looks personally offended. “By telling me about how many nosebleeds they’ve collectively caused in the name of house pride?”

“Maybe he thinks violence is your love language,” Dorcas offers with a shrug.

You laugh softly but say nothing. Lily rolls her eyes and turns to you, as she often does.

“You would die. Honestly. You should swap with me sometime just to understand the suffering.”

“I’m not a prefect,” you remind her, amused.

She huffs. “Tragic. You’d actually hold a decent conversation. Meanwhile, I’ve learnt the entire 1974 Quidditch Cup roster twice, and I don’t even like Quidditch,”

Still, she doesn’t ask for a trade from any of the actual prefects. And despite the complaints, she never actually seems to loathe their time together—frustrated, yes. Exhausted, absolutely. But somewhere beneath it all is a sort of resigned affection she doesn’t quite admit to.

You often sit by the fire after she’s done ranting, book in your lap, mind somewhere else entirely.

Because while Lily battles James's endless rambling about goal strategies and prank logistics, your thoughts drift to the letters again and again.

You miss them.

More than you like to admit.

Even now, months after the last one, you still half-expect to find something tucked inside your Transfiguration book. Or a note slid under your pillow. That hopeful little ache has never quite gone away. You know it’s silly—it’s been so long, it’s probably over—but that connection, however brief and anonymous, was something you’d never really had before.

Whoever wrote those letters saw parts of you you didn’t think anyone noticed. They wrote like they knew what you needed to hear before you even knew it yourself.

And now… it’s just silence.

—

It’s late December when Lily finds it. Just a few days shy of the Christmas Holidays, when the castle starts to shift into that enchanted, warm glow of the holidays. Wreaths bloom along the walls, garlands wrap the banisters, and the air smells faintly of cinnamon and woodsmoke.

It’s snowing outside, but the halls are still humming with end-of-term energy—homework, holiday plans, and whispered excitement about the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend.

Lily’s rifling through James Potter’s satchel.

To be fair, she asked him where the patrol rota was, and he told her—somewhere in his bag. He’s halfway through an apple and elbow-deep in a discussion with Remus about whether or not the Gryffindor team needs a strategy change after Christmas.

She pulls out quills, broken Sugar Quill sticks, crumpled bits of paper, at least two spare ties, and—at the very bottom—a small, folded piece of parchment.

Gold foil.

Your name on the front.

She freezes.

It’s unmistakable. The handwriting is the same elegant, slanted script you used to show them, the same ink, the same careful fold. But this letter has never reached you.

Her eyes widen. Her breath catches.

She looks up at James.

Still talking.

Still completely unaware that in one careless second, he’s just given everything away.

Lily takes the letter. Quietly. Carefully. She tucks it into her robe pocket and says nothing. Not yet.

But she watches him all night. She watches the way his gaze flickers towards you sometimes across the common room. The way he gets unusually quiet when your name comes up.

Later that night, in the corridor outside the common room, she pounces.

“James.”

He jumps. “Bloody—Evans, you trying to give me a heart attack?”

She crosses her arms. “I need to ask you something,”

“Okay…?”

She pulls the letter from her pocket.

He stops breathing.

“Is this yours?”

He tries—tries—to play dumb.

“I—uh—never seen that before in my life.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“No? Oh well, guess i’ll deliver it myself then,”

The way James snatches the letter from her hands you’d think it was his lifeline. It kind of was. “Don’t you dare—”

She doesn’t say anything for a beat. Then:

“It was you.”

He nods, sheepish. “Yeah.”

“You were writing the letters all last year. All that time. While she was agonising over who it was.”

Another nod.

“Why didn’t you tell her?”

“I—” He scrubs a hand through his hair. “I panicked, alright? I was going to. I really was. The last letter—I wrote it to finally tell her. Then I just… I bottled it. It felt too big. Too serious. I didn’t think she’d… you know. Want me.”

Lily stares at him.

“You absolute moron.”

He blinks. “Sorry?”

“She’s been miserable for months. She kept waiting for another letter, hoping you’d write again. Do you have any idea how much she—” She cuts herself off, shaking her head. “Unbelievable.”

“I didn’t think she liked me,” James mutters. “I mean, properly. Not just the letters. And not after everything—after how I was in fifth year—”

“You’ve changed.”

He shrugs. “I don’t know if that matters.”

Lily looks at him, and something softens.

“It does. And for what it’s worth, I think she would want to know. But—” She holds up a finger before he can respond. “—If you want to be a coward, I won’t say a word. But if you want my silence, you’re going to have to make it worth it.”

James straightens. “What does that mean?”

“It means I’ll keep your secret—for now. But only if you actually do something about it. No more hiding. No more waiting. I’m going to help you, and you’re going to let me.”

James looks like someone’s just told him he has a shot at the World Cup.

“You’ll help me?”

She nods. “But only because I’m tired of watching her mope around like a ghost every time she checks her pillow for a letter that never comes.”

His expression shifts—hope blooming like a star behind his eyes.

“Alright,” he says, determined now. “Deal.”

Lily smiles.

—

The Christmas holidays was an odd time for both Lily and James. While a welcome respite from the usual whirlwind of school activities, they brought their own pressures. For Lily, it was the mounting anticipation of how to pull off her bold plan, and for James, it was the dawning realisation that he might just have a chance with you—but only if he didn’t screw it up.

It started innocently enough: a stack of parchment and a quill. The first few letters between them were brief and clumsy, full of the usual banter that you’d expect from James Potter. But with Lily’s encouragement and careful advice, his words began to take shape. She steered him, nudging him in the right direction.

There were moments of frustration—James was a disaster with anything that wasn’t a Quidditch strategy or prank, and this was, in his mind, far too serious to be a joke. But Lily stuck by him, offering a steady hand when his confidence faltered, teaching him how to make the words meaningful.

The tone of the letters shifted as they continued. At first, James wrote about what he thought you would want to hear—grand gestures, over-the-top declarations that, in hindsight, seemed ridiculous. But Lily patiently worked through them with him, showing him that it wasn’t about showiness—it was about connection. The real connection. The sort of connection that wasn’t about impressing you with his charm, but letting you see who he really was. She made him laugh, made him reflect on his own growth, and made him understand that this wasn’t just some passing fancy.

Their letters became a sort of symbiotic process. James would write something a bit too much, and Lily would dial it back with a comment about being too self-deprecating or too dramatic. He’d write again, taking into account her feedback. Then, Lily would send him back something that was genuinely thoughtful about what he could say to you—subtle things like, “She likes someone who listens, not just talks,” and “Remember, be genuine. It’s okay to be nervous.”

They’d find themselves exchanging letters, not just for the sake of figuring out what to say to you, but out of a shared sense of friendship, a bond that neither of them had expected to form.

They started to know each other better—not just as the Head Girl and the Head Boy, but as two people who were learning to be better versions of themselves. James began to appreciate Lily in a way that went beyond admiration—he respected her, her intelligence, her patience. She had a depth to her that he hadn’t quite realised before.

And Lily, for her part, couldn’t deny that James was more than just the loud, arrogant Quidditch star he used to be. He was thoughtful. He was kind. And beneath that cocky exterior, he was actually a lot more humble than anyone gave him credit for.

—

When the holidays ended and the students returned to Hogwarts, the air was thick with a sort of nervous energy. It was a fresh start after weeks away, and the school had a distinct feeling of a new term—new opportunities, new resolutions. It was also, for Lily, the moment when the plan she had been quietly constructing would need to unfold in full force.

As they returned to their regular routines, Lily began her work behind the scenes. It started innocently enough—casual conversations in the corridors, the library, and the common room. She would slip in little details about James—never overtly, but just enough to plant the seed in your mind.

“Did you hear about James helping that first-year with their transfiguration homework? I swear, he’s actually really good at it when he puts his mind to it,”

You had glanced up from your own work at the mention of James's name, frowning a little, because honestly, you hadn’t thought about him much. Not lately. He’d been busy with Quidditch, as usual. You couldn’t deny, though, that the idea of him being helpful—genuinely helpful—sounded out of character, even for him.

Over the next few days, Lily casually dropped more snippets into conversations. “James, honestly, I’m impressed with how he’s handled being Head Boy. He really seems to be taking it seriously. Even with Quidditch on his plate, he always makes time to help out,” She’d speak with genuine admiration, her voice unconsciously laced with warmth whenever she spoke of him.

At first, you dismissed it. It was all so subtle—so carefully orchestrated—that you barely noticed it happening. But the more Lily spoke, the more you began to pay attention.

One afternoon, you were walking down the corridor to the library when you spotted James on the far side of the hall, surrounded by first-years. You were about to look away when you saw him gently helping one of them with a stack of books, his hands steady, his voice low and encouraging. A completely different side to the usual cocky, mischief-driven James Potter. You’d never seen him like this before. You’d never seen anyone so engaged in something so simple.

That night, when you sat with the girls, Lily mentioned it casually. “James was really great today, helping the first years carry their books. He’s definitely grown up. It’s funny, isn’t it? We always think of him as the prankster, but there’s so much more to him than that. Honestly, I’m starting to see him in a new light,”

You were about to say something dismissive—something that would push the conversation away. But then, you stopped. There was something in the way she said it, so earnestly, that made you pause.

“Why do you keep talking about him like that?” Dorcas asked, raising an eyebrow at Lily.

Lily didn’t even bat an eyelash. She was smooth. “Why? What do you mean? He’s really changed, that’s all,”

“She has a bit of a point,” You immediately regret backing Lily. Why did you say that?

You weren’t sure what was happening to you. Why, when you closed your eyes that night, did your thoughts drift to James? Why, when you caught his smile in the corridor, did your heart feel like it skipped a beat? Why did you feel the need to brush your hair just right every time you passed him?

What was Lily doing to your head?

—

Lily Evans was a lot of things. Bright. Commanding. Intimidating when she wanted to be. But above all else, she was strategic. And once she caught on to the fact that you had—finally—developed something resembling a real, actual crush on James Potter, it was game over. For you.

You just didn’t know it yet.

“You need a break,” she said, as if that weren’t a suspicious statement from someone who had spent the last week stress-annotating every page of her Arithmancy textbook.

You glanced at her warily. “A break from what?”

“Studying. The common room. Yourself.” She sipped her tea primly. “We’re going to the library,”

“You think the library is a break?”

“Yes, because you’re not going alone this time,” she said. “We’ll revise together,”

You narrowed your eyes. “You hate revising with other people,”

“I don’t hate it,”

“You said—and I quote—‘group studying is a punishment for introverts who can’t read in silence.’”

Lily gave you her best innocent expression. “Wow. That doesn’t sound like me at all,”

Still, she wore you down. As she often did. And twenty minutes later you were being marched into the library under the pretense of productivity.

You weren’t entirely sure when you’d clocked it. Maybe it was the faint hum of nerves in Lily’s step, or the way she seemed to be leading you rather than walking beside you. But then you turned the corner near the back tables, and there he was.

James Potter. Sat alone at a table by the window, sunlight catching on his hair like it was doing it on purpose. His head was bowed, pencil tapping rhythmically against his lip as he read, and for once he looked almost serene. Normal. Thoughtful.

“Oh,” Lily said, not even bothering to feign surprise. “James. Didn’t see you there,”

He looked up, blinking at the both of you, then smiled—wide and easy. “Hey. Fancy running into you two,”

You turned to Lily with a look. She smiled sweetly and gestured to the empty chairs. “Plenty of room. Come on,”

You gave her a long-suffering sigh, but joined them. You didn’t miss the way James straightened up a little when you sat down. Or how he nudged his textbook closer to make space.

“We’re reviewing Potions,” Lily said, as if that was the plan all along. “James, you’re good at Potions, right?”

He gave a modest shrug. “Decent. Do you need help?”

She said nothing. Just looked at you. Pointedly.

“…Sure,” you mumbled, flipping open your book. “Why not.”

—

Later that week, it happened again.

You and Lily were walking down toward Herbology, cutting across the greenhouses when a burst of motion caught your eye near the Quidditch pitch.

James was there. Not flying, not showing off—but hovering gently just above the grass, alongside a very nervous-looking first year. The kid was wobbling on their broom, fists clenched white around the handle.

“Easy now,” James called, encouraging but calm. “Keep your knees loose. You’re thinking too hard. Let the broom do the work,”

“Is that Potter?” you asked, squinting.

Lily followed your gaze and made a noise like she’d just noticed. “Oh, yeah. I think he’s mentoring first years this term. Sweet, right?”

You turned back toward him. The wind ruffled his hair, and he reached out to steady the kid’s broom with a gentle hand, his voice low and kind and patient. It was… not a side of him you saw often. Or ever.

Your stomach did a thing.

Lily nudged you. “You’re staring,” she sang under her breath.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m observing,” you said flatly. “For science.”

“Sure. For science,”

—

By the third encounter, you were onto her.

This time, Lily “forgot” her notes in the Divination tower and asked you to come with her to get them. But when you reached the corridor, who was leaning against the wall chatting with Professor Sinistra?

That’s right.

James bloody Potter.

“…Hi?” he said, eyes flicking between the two of you.

Lily acted delighted. “Oh! James! What’re you doing up here?”

“Dropping off the star charts for Astronomy club,” he replied.

Lily gasped. “Look at you. Responsible and helpful,”

You turned your head slowly, muttering under your breath. “You planned this,”

“I absolutely did not,” Lily said, far too brightly.

You stared.

She smiled wider.

James, to his credit, just looked confused.

And maybe—maybe—a little hopeful.

—

Later, in the common room, you finally snapped.

“You’re setting me up,” you accused.

Lily beamed, completely unbothered. “Yes. And you’re welcome,”

“I didn’t ask for your interference,”

She crossed her arms and leaned against the sofa. “No, but I got tired of watching you pretend not to like him every time he breathed in your direction. So I decided to help you skip to the part where you realise he’s more than just a pretty face with Quidditch shoulders,”

You covered your face with a groan.

“Oh come on,” she said. “You like him,”

“No.”

“You do,”

You peeked between your fingers. “He was really sweet with that first year,”

Lily smirked. “I know,”

You slumped further into the cushions. “I hate how well this is working,”

“I’m a genius,” she said modestly.

And honestly? She kind of was.

—

It wasn’t long before Lily noticed that she didn’t have to nudge you in James's direction anymore. You started coming to her with your own observations. It started innocently enough.

“Did you see James helping that second-year with her Transfiguration homework today?” you asked, as you sat in the Gryffindor common room one chilly evening. “It was kind of… sweet,”

Lily's lips twitched in a knowing smile, but she hid it behind the book she was pretending to read. “Oh, really?” she asked casually, though her voice was laced with an almost imperceptible hint of amusement. “That sounds like him,”

And then, the more you noticed these things, the more you found yourself noticing him. The way his hair always fell in that messy way, no matter how much he tried to push it back. The way his eyes seemed to light up when he was talking about something he loved—Quidditch, of course, but also the way he spoke about his friends, his teammates. His honesty, unpolished but real. How, after all these years, you hadn’t truly seen him for what he was—someone who, despite his flaws, actually tried to do the right thing, even when he didn’t have to.

The realisation hit you slowly, like a wave creeping up the shore. You liked James Potter. You were attracted to him.

And that made you feel insane.

—

It was a Tuesday, and the usual hustle and bustle of Potions class filled the air as students shuffled into the dimly lit dungeon. You were seated next to Lily as usual, one row behind the Marauders, but that day, for some reason, your focus was nowhere near the task at hand. You were supposed to be preparing a Draught of Living Death, but your eyes kept straying to James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter, who were across the room, clearly engaged in some kind of prank plan.

It wasn’t even subtle. They were making faces at each other, stifling laughs, and it was so obvious that Professor Slughorn wasn’t even pretending to ignore them. You couldn't help the smile tugging at your lips as you watched James pass something to Sirius behind his cauldron, a quick handoff of some joke ingredient that was almost certainly going to explode in someone’s face.

“You’re staring again,” Lily pointed out with a grin, her voice low enough so that no one else could hear.

You blinked, realising that she had caught you, yet again. “What? No I’m not, I’m paying attention!” You quickly turned your focus back to your potion, though it was already too late—the glint in Lily’s eyes told you that she knew the truth.

She raised an eyebrow, still looking amused, and shook her head. “It’s okay. I mean, I did call it though,”

You groaned, slumping in your seat, feeling your cheeks flush. “I’m insane,” you muttered to yourself, so quietly that only Lily could hear. “What am I supposed to do? He’s been a complete arse to me for years, and now I’m falling for him? I’m a lunatic. Someone, take me away to Mungo’s. Commit me now. I’m beyond saving,”

Lily’s laughter bubbled up, and she didn’t even try to hide it. “Oh, come on, you’re not insane. You just like him. It’s not the end of the world,”

You shot her a glare. “Lils, I hate him. I have hated him for six years. Six years! He’s loud, he’s cocky, he’s arrogant. And now I want to—what? Be all gooey-eyed at him?”

She shrugged, the smile still dancing on her lips. “You’re allowed to change your mind, you know,”

“About him?” you said, pointing dramatically toward James, who was still engaging in some prank or another, his laugh unmistakable even from across the room. “What is wrong with me? Maybe I need a head examination. Maybe I just need to stop thinking about it altogether. Because this? This is crazy,”

Lily laughed again, a sound that was half sympathetic, half mocking. “I think you're being a little dramatic, don't you?”

“Drama's my middle name, Lils,” you muttered, sinking further into your seat, your face growing hot as you tried to ignore the fact that, even now, you could feel the pull of James Potter’s presence across the room. “Ugh. What do I even do? I can’t just talk to him. He’s so annoying. I can’t believe this is happening,”

Lily's tone turned more serious as she leaned a little closer, her voice softening. “Maybe… maybe you should start by just talking to him. Like, really talking. Not about Quidditch or anything that’s just… surface stuff. Maybe actually get to know him, without the whole cocky idiot routine he’s always doing,”

You frowned, looking over at James again, who had just leaned back in his chair, grinning at something Sirius had said. You shook your head, resisting the pull. “I don’t know, Lils. This whole thing is just… confusing,”

Lily sighed dramatically, resting her chin on her hand. “Yeah, I get that. But you know, I think he’s just a little misunderstood. He’s not perfect—he never has been. But… I think he’s worth getting to know. And I don’t think you’d regret it, if you gave him a chance,”

You stared at her, wide-eyed. “Are you… are you implying something here?”

Lily raised her hands in mock surrender, her eyes twinkling. “I’m not implying anything. I’m just saying… you should give him a chance to surprise you,”

You let out a long, dramatic groan. “What is wrong with me? I need help,”

—

Later that evening, you found yourself sitting in the Gryffindor common room, trying to ignore the noise around you. You were perched on the edge of the couch, pretending to study, but your mind was elsewhere entirely. Not on the anonymous love letters, but on James.

How had it happened? How had the most annoying person you’d ever met—someone who had spent years making fun of you, pranking you, and generally being an all-around nuisance—suddenly become someone you were seriously thinking about? It didn’t make sense. And yet, here you were, sighing over him like some lovesick fool.

“Everything okay?” Lily asked, sliding into the seat next to you. She had that familiar, knowing smile on her face—the one that made you feel like she could see straight through you. “You seem distracted,”

You let out a frustrated breath. “I’m an idiot,” you muttered, burying your face in your hands. “I’m an absolute, utter idiot,”

Lily laughed, clearly enjoying your inner turmoil. “You’re not an idiot. You’re just human,”

“Human, my arse,” you grumbled. “I’m supposed to be in control of my emotions. I’m supposed to be the level-headed one. And instead, I’m obsessing over James Potter. I mean, James Potter. What is wrong with me?”

Lily’s laugh was warm and understanding. She didn’t press you for more, though she did, at the back of your mind, know something you didn’t. She knew that you were slowly starting to see James for who he really was. And she knew that, when the time was right, it wouldn’t take much for him to see you for who you truly were, either.

But for now, all she had to do was sit back and watch the inevitable unfold.

—

By March, the weight of the upcoming mock NEWTs had hit Hogwarts like a bludger to the ribs. The once-lively Gryffindor common room was now filled with students hunched over parchment, quills scratching like beetles in the quiet, anxious air.

Even the usual chaos of the Marauders had simmered into a tense sort of focus—less pranks, more sighing, and an abundance of sugar quills chewed to bits while everyone tried to pretend they weren’t on the verge of collective academic collapse.

You’d taken to escaping the chaos by spending more time in the library, where the silence was less oppressive and the chances of being interrupted were, blessedly, low. There was something grounding about the musty scent of old books, the feel of parchment under your fingers, and the soft rustling of pages turning around you. Here, at least, you could pretend to have control over the mounting panic.

You didn’t expect to see him there.

It was a Thursday afternoon. The sky outside was grey and moody, a typical March sulk, and you’d made your way to the far side of the library looking for a quiet corner. Your bag was heavy on your shoulder, the strap digging into your collarbone, and your fingers were already ink-stained from a particularly ambitious essay you'd abandoned halfway through breakfast.

You turned down one of the aisles and paused.

James Potter sat alone at a study table, bent over a thick Potions textbook, hair sticking up in that ridiculous, familiar way, glasses slightly askew, brows furrowed in concentration. His quill tapped thoughtfully against his lips as he scanned a particularly long paragraph, completely unaware of your presence.

There were no Marauders in sight. No Sirius lolling about with a smirk, no Peter sneaking sweets, no Remus patiently annotating with colour-coded inks. Just James. Quiet. Focused. Normal.

It was weird.

You hovered there, unsure for a moment. James Potter was not someone you’d ever associated with solitude. He belonged in groups. In crowds. Loud, chaotic ones. He was a whirlwind of motion and noise and cheeky grins. But now—

Now, he just looked… Tired. Still. Almost soft.

You blinked. Once. Twice. And then, before your brain could talk your body out of it, you approached.

“Mind if I join you?”

James startled, looking up as though you’d just Apparated beside him. His expression shifted rapidly—surprise, confusion, and then something else entirely. Something warmer.

“Oh. Er—yeah! Yes, absolutely, yeah, course you can,” he stammered, quickly moving his things to make space for you, nearly knocking over his inkpot in the process. “Didn’t expect company,”

“I didn’t expect you to be in here,” you replied, sliding into the seat beside him and placing your books on the table. “Alone, I mean. No gaggle of mischief-makers in tow,”

He gave a sheepish laugh. “Yeah, I figured I’d actually try to… I don’t know, pass transfiguration this year. Trying this whole ‘focus’ thing,”

You arched an eyebrow. “Look at you. All grown up and responsible,”

He mock-scowled at you. “Don’t make it weird,”

You smiled despite yourself. “I’m stressed about the Potions exam,” you admitted after a moment. “I feel like Slughorn could hand me a list of ingredients and I’d still forget what a bezoar does,”

James gave you a surprised, almost earnest look. “Do you want to revise together? I mean—I’m decent at Potions. Got a weird knack for it. I could help,”

You tilted your head, eyeing him. “You? Helping me revise?”

“Don’t sound so shocked,” he said, grinning now. “I can be serious when I want to be,”

“Can you?”

James snorted. “Okay, I try to be,”

You laughed, and somehow that broke the tension. The two of you slipped into an easy rhythm. You started with Potions, him explaining the nuances of antidotes and the precise slicing technique needed for Sopophorous beans.

His explanations were animated—hands gesturing as he talked, voice fluctuating with a kind of earnestness you’d never quite noticed before. It made sense why he was such a good Quidditch captain; there was something undeniably compelling about the way he communicated, even when it was just about brewing Draught of Peace.

He didn't mock you when you forgot something obvious. He didn't interrupt. He listened.

And when your hands brushed across the table, reaching for the same note at the same time, he didn't flinch away. He just smiled.

Then the subject drifted. From Potions to Charms. From Charms to Transfiguration. From school to House gossip to whether centaurs secretly judged the students during Care of Magical Creatures.

Somewhere along the way, the edges between awkward and easy blurred.

There were pauses, of course—comfortable silences where you simply worked, and longer ones filled with light teasing or surprising bursts of genuine conversation. Like when he told you about his mum’s obsession with over-feeding the stray street cat, or how Sirius once bewitched his bed curtains to play harp music every time someone said his name.

It was weird, how easy it was.

It was weirder, still, when you realised you’d lost track of time.

“Blimey,” James muttered, glancing at the high windows. “It’s practically dark out,”

You blinked, checking your watch. “We’re late for dinner,”

“I was supposed to meet the team for a strategy review,” he said, rubbing a hand through his hair, making it stand up even more.

As if summoned, Peter popped his head around the shelf with a harried expression. “There you are!” he said to James, and then looked at you, visibly surprised. “We thought you’d fallen in a cauldron or something,”

James gave an apologetic shrug. “Lost track of time,”

Peter eyed the two of you, then turned his gaze back on James and raised his eyebrows very pointedly. “Riiight,”

You and James exchanged a glance, and then you both gathered your things and followed Peter out.

—

When you entered the Great Hall late, your friends were all over you.

“Where were you?” Dorcas asked, half-standing.

“Don’t say the library,” Marlene warned. “We know you left for the library, but you didn’t come back for hours,”

“And with James Potter?” Dorcas added, now openly gaping.

You groaned, sliding into the seat beside Lily. “It’s not what it sounds like.”

“It sounds like you two met up for a shag,” Marlene suggested, delighted.

“Absolutely not,” you said, head thunking dramatically onto the table. “He was helping me with potions. That’s all.”

Lily grinned, rubbing your back. “So you finally cracked, then?”

You peeked up at her with a groan. “I can’t stand how smug you look right now,”

Dorcas leaned in eagerly. “Wait—you like him?”

You sighed and sat up. “I begrudgingly have a crush on James Potter. There. I said it. I hate myself. I hate him. I hate everything. Kill me now.”

The table burst into laughter. Marlene actually clutched her chest. “I knew it. You’ve been making heart eyes for weeks,”

Lily looked positively radiant. “It’s okay,” she said soothingly. “It’s only taken you, what? Seven years?”

You scowled. “This is the worst timeline.”

Still, you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips.

—

Meanwhile, James was in the middle of a complete overshare.

“I panicked,” he said, flopping dramatically onto Sirius’ bed. “She just walked over and sat down. And then we actually talked. Like properly talked. And she laughed, Sirius. She laughed. At my jokes,”

Sirius grinned from where he was perched at the edge of Remus’s bed. “So you didn’t ruin it. Colour me shocked,”

James threw a pillow at him. “I’m being serious.”

“I’m being Sirius,” Sirius deadpanned.

Remus groaned. “Not this again,”

Peter snorted, settling at the foot of his own bed. “So what now? You two just revise together like it’s no big deal?”

“She asked to join me,” James said, like it was still unbelievable. “And I didn’t mess it up. I even helped her with Potions,”

Sirius gave him a sly look. “You like her,”

“Yes,” James said, no hesitation. “Obviously. I’ve liked her for ages. And now she’s actually… noticing me. And it’s terrifying,”

“What happened to cool, confident James Potter?” Remus asked with a faint smile.

“He’s dead.” James exclaimed. “He doesn’t exist,”

Sirius cracked up laughing.

James groaned, grabbing another pillow. “Promise me you lot won’t screw this up for me,”

“Course not,” Remus said. “We want you to be happy,”

“Speak for yourself,” Sirius muttered. “I liked it better when he was hopeless,”

But he smiled anyway.

—

From that point on, library sessions became a thing.

At first, it was casual. A few times a week, whenever you happened to run into each other. Then Lily started suggesting you go together—“oh, James said he’d be in the library after dinner, you should head down,”—and it became routine.

You tried to tell yourself it was just studying. That was all.

But it wasn’t.

You and James talked about everything—from exam stress and professors to more personal things. Like how he hated how he used to treat people, especially you and Lily. How he couldn’t believe he’d wasted so much time being a prat. How he’d let his ego make choices he still regretted.

“I was a total wanker,” he said one evening, sitting across from you, fiddling with the end of his quill. “Back when you and Lily were still friends with Snape. I was just… angry all the time. Jealous, maybe. I don’t know. But I was awful. And I’m sorry,”

You blinked. The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard.

“Thanks,” you said softly. “That actually means a lot,”

He gave you a small smile. “I just—I want you to know I’m trying. Not just for you. For me, too,”

And you believed him.

Which was maybe the scariest part.

Because this—whatever this was—wasn’t just a passing crush anymore.

You were really starting to fall for James Potter.

—

It was a Friday afternoon, the eve of the Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw Quidditch final, and James Potter was, predictably, in full strategising mode. You’d barely sat down at your usual table in the library before he launched into a spirited rant about formations, wind direction, and something called “chaser rotation efficiency” like he hadn’t just spent the past two hours at practice already barking the same things at his team.

You, meanwhile, were fighting a losing battle against a headache and the slow, creeping guilt of having left your Potions essay untouched for two full days.

“—and I swear if McLaggen swerves left again when I signal right, I’m going to charm his broomstick to fly backwards—”

“I forgot my quill,” you interrupted, sighing dramatically and digging fruitlessly through your satchel. “Great. That’s perfect. That’s exactly what I needed today,”

“Oh—here,” James said, gesturing vaguely to his bag without pausing his train of thought. “There’s loads in there, probably. Knock yourself out,”

You slid his satchel toward you, still only half-listening as he rambled on, now something about wind tunnels and Ravenclaw’s new Keeper. You unzipped the bag and fished around, fingers grazing parchment, a broken sugar quill, and several unidentifiable sticky objects before landing on a whole bundle of rogue writing utensils.

And then—your fingers brushed something else.

Smooth. Firm. Familiar.

You pulled it out.

Gold-foiled parchment.

Your breath hitched.

It was folded and refolded a dozen times over, edges fraying, the once-glossy surface dulled and creased. There were small ink stains on the back. A faint smudge of what might have been chocolate. You didn’t even need to open it to know what it was.

But you did anyway.

You shouldn’t have. You knew that. But your hands acted faster than your brain, and before you could stop yourself, your eyes were scanning the page.

Your name was there, in that now-unmistakable handwriting. The curves and flicks that had haunted your thoughts for nearly a year. And the words—oh, the words. Soft and intimate and so completely James that you were stunned you hadn’t pieced it together before.

I know I said I wouldn’t write you anymore, but I’m afraid I can’t help myself. The truth is, I’ve been terrified of saying it out loud, of giving you something you don’t need or want. But I can’t pretend anymore. I’ve loved you for so long, in ways that I can’t even put into words. I’ve watched you, really watched you, every day, and I’ve noticed things about you that—

You were halfway through reading it when James looked up from his notes, mid-smirk.

“I know my bag’s a bit of a disaster zone, but come on—it can’t be that hard to find a—”

He stopped mid-sentence.

His smile dropped.

You slowly looked up, the letter still in your hands, your fingers clenched tight around the gold paper. Your voice, when it came, was a whisper. Distant.

“…It was you?”

Silence.

James stared at you.

He opened his mouth, then shut it again.

You saw it—the flicker of panic, the rapid calculations behind his eyes, the moment he considered denying it.

But he didn’t.

He just nodded. Once. Barely perceptible.

You rose from your seat with a quiet scrape of your chair.

“I— I need to go.”

“Wait—” James started, standing as if to follow you, but you were already gone.

You didn’t look back.

—

James slumped back into his seat like the air had been knocked out of him.

He felt like he might be sick.

He'd known it was a risk. He’d always known. That’s why he never sent that final letter. That’s why he buried it in the bottom of his bag with the other forgotten things. Because if you ever found out…

And now you had.

He ran both hands through his hair and groaned into the table.

Lily found him twenty minutes later, still in the library, head buried in his arms.

“James we need to— What happened?” she asked immediately, sliding into the seat beside him. “You look like someone hexed your soul out,”

James didn’t lift his head.

“She found the letter,”

“…What?”

James groaned again. “I had it in my bag and she went in for a quill and she found it. Read it. Said ‘It was you?’ and then just—left.”

Lily’s eyes widened.

“What? James, that wasn’t the plan—!”

“I know,” he said miserably. “Trust me.”

Lily didn’t wait for more. She stood, grabbed her bag, and strode from the library like a woman on a mission.

—

She found you in the girls’ dormitory, door slightly ajar, the room quiet except for the faint rustle of parchment and the erratic, uneven sounds of your breathing.

The gold-letter lay open on your duvet, surrounded by all the other ones you’d carefully saved. The edges were frayed and thumbed from how often you’d reread them, but now they were scattered like fallen leaves, forming a halo around your crossed legs.

You didn’t look up when Lily entered.

She sat beside you quietly.

For a while, there was only the sound of your sniffles and the occasional tear hitting paper.

“I feel insane,” you said eventually, voice shaking. “I— I didn’t think— I never imagined it would be him,”

Lily reached out gently, plucking a letter from the bedspread. “You mean to tell me you never noticed the handwriting?”

“I never thought to look,” you mumbled. “Why would I? It was James Potter. He was—he was awful for so long,”

“But he isn’t now,”

You looked at her then, eyes red, lips trembling. “No. He’s not,”

There was a long pause.

Lily tilted her head. “You really like him, don’t you?”

You groaned, flopping backwards onto your pillow with a dramatic sigh. “I guess! I don’t—I didn’t think I did, not like that, not really, not until recently, and now—now I don’t know what to do, Lily,”

Lily smiled gently. “It’s okay. It’s… a lot. I know that,”

“It’s so much,” you moaned. “It’s like my brain is having a meltdown. All the letters—I loved the letters, and now they’re his letters and it’s like this huge secret just blew up in my face and I think I want to cry but also yell but also maybe kiss him and I don’t know what order those things go in!”

Lily laughed softly. “That’s the grief talking,”

You sniffled. “Grief?”

“Yeah,” she said solemnly. “The five stages of realising you’ve been in love with James Potter,”

You gave her a look.

“I’m serious. Denial—you definitely had that one early. Anger? You stormed out of the library. Bargaining—we’re doing that now. Depression is when you go quiet and start rereading all his letters while questioning your entire existence. And acceptance—well,”

“I’m not at acceptance yet,” you insisted, even as your voice wobbled. “I’m still in a very dramatic spiral,”

“You’ll get there,” Lily said kindly. “Just… breathe, okay? You’re allowed to freak out. But this—this doesn’t have to be bad,”

“He lied to me,”

“He didn’t lie,” Lily said gently. “He just… couldn’t find the courage to tell you the truth,”

You fell quiet, chewing your lip. “Was this your plan all along?”

Lily hesitated. “Not this exact ending, but… I knew. For a while. And I may have nudged things along,”

You groaned again, grabbing a pillow and burying your face in it. “You kept it from me?”

“It wasn’t mine to tell,”

You peeked out. “He’s really upset, isn’t he?”

“Like a kicked puppy,”

—

James was falling apart.

The Marauders tried their best to be supportive.

Which, unfortunately, amounted to Sirius offering him chocolate, Remus recommending deep breathing exercises, and Peter saying things like, “Well, at least it’s out now?”

“Out?” James choked. “It’s out like a Blast-Ended Skrewt in a greenhouse! She’s going to hate me,”

“You’re being dramatic,” Sirius said. “She likes you. Even I can see that,”

“She liked the version of me who wrote the letters,” James said. “Not the idiot who shoved them in a bag and hoped they never saw the light of day,”

“She liked you, mate,” Remus corrected. “You were being yourself in those letters. You just… didn’t know how to show it in person,”

James rubbed his hands over his face. “It’s over, isn’t it?”

“No,” Sirius said, surprisingly firm. “Not unless you give up now,”

James looked at him.

“You’ve come this far. She knows now. You can’t back down. Not unless you’re okay with always wondering what would’ve happened if you tried,”

James took a deep breath.

“I want to try,”

“Then try,” Remus said, clapping him on the shoulder.

—

You stayed up most of the night rereading the letters.

Every word hit differently now.

The soft musings. The little jokes. The genuine awe in the way he’d described you.

James Potter had written them all.

And somehow, that made your heart hurt in the most complicated, overwhelming, real way.

By morning, your mind was no clearer—but you knew one thing.

You needed to talk to him.

—

James didn’t wake up until nearly noon.

He jolted upright in bed with a strangled noise, heart racing, hair a chaotic mess of pillow creases and stress, the realisation slamming into his chest like a Bludger—he’d missed practice.

He’d missed practice.

On the day of the finals.

There was a beat of stunned silence in the common room, broken only by Peter’s stifled gasp as James scrambled down the stairs, knocking over a chair, his wand, and nearly himself in his blind panic.

“Shit—shit—shit—”

“James, mate, calm down,” came Sirius’s voice, too calm, too amused for the situation.

“I missed practice, Sirius! Finals practice! I'm the captain! I was supposed to run drills, go over the formations—McLaggen was probably leading it, and now the team’s going to think I don’t give a damn—”

“Breathe,” Remus added, flicking his wand to fix James’ mess of a hairdo mid-spiral.

“I can’t—breathe! I should be—kicked off the team, I should sub myself out—”

At that, Sirius sat up properly, ruffling a hand through his dark hair. “Okay, whoa, no. What are you on about?”

James didn’t answer. He was halfway dressed, chest still heaving, hands shaking so badly he couldn’t even fasten the buttons.

“I mean it,” he muttered, voice lower now, harsher. “Maybe I shouldn’t play,”

“You’re literally the best Chaser in the school,” Peter said, face scrunched in confusion.

“I’m also a disaster. You didn’t see her face yesterday. She looked—like I’d broken her, or something. I can’t concentrate, I can’t think—I can’t lead the team if my brain’s stuck on whether or not I’ve ruined the only real shot I had with her,”

“James,” Sirius said carefully, sitting on the edge of one of the sofas. “You don’t have to ruin everything just because your crush found out you have feelings,”

James shot him a look. “It’s more than that and you know it,”

Sirius shrugged. “I do. I also know you’re being an idiot,”

“I panicked. I didn’t mean for her to find the letter—”

“No one thinks you did,” Remus said gently.

“Then why did she run?”

Sirius gave him a flat look. “I dunno, maybe because she’s been falling for you and just found out the sweet, romantic mystery boy she’s been dreaming about for a year is the same idiot who hexed her potions cauldron in fourth year? Maybe it was a lot?”

James dropped heavily into a chair and buried his face in his hands.

He muttered something into his palms that sounded suspiciously like, “I hate everything,”

Sirius stood. “You can’t sit this match out, Prongs,”

“I might make things worse,”

“You won’t,” Remus said.

“You’re just scared,” Sirius added. “And you should be. Feelings are terrifying. But you either play today and show her you’re still you, or you hide away and let her think she was right to walk away,”

James didn’t answer.

—

You were pacing the corridor outside the Gryffindor common room like a lunatic.

You’d spent half the night re-reading the letters again, still overwhelmed, still processing, but ultimately—and maybe most importantly—feeling guilty.

You hadn’t meant to run out on him like that. You did still care. A lot. Too much.

So you needed to say something. Maybe not everything. Maybe not a confession, not yet. But something.

You asked a third year if they’d seen James. They hadn’t.

You tried the Quidditch pitch. Empty.

Eventually, you made your way to the prefects dorms, hesitating at the door before quietly pushing it open.

“…sub myself out…”

You froze.

James was sitting on his bed, dressed in his Quidditch uniform, looking like the ghost of himself. Sirius was pacing. Remus and Peter were quiet. And then—

“Oh,” you blurted.

All four heads turned.

You immediately wanted to melt into the floor. “I—uh—I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, I was just—um—I came to wish you luck. For the match. Lily and I are gonna watch for Marlene, obviously, and I know you were really going on about it yesterday so… yeah.”

Your cheeks were burning. You tugged at the sleeve of your jumper and avoided eye contact like it would save you from death by embarrassment. “Anyway. Yeah. Good luck,”

You turned and practically sprinted out the door, pressing both palms to your face the moment it closed behind you.

Inside, there was a beat of silence.

Then Sirius’s slow, satisfied, “She so likes you,”

James didn’t believe it. But still—he sat up straighter. There was a faint flush in his cheeks, a tiny, hopeful ember reigniting.

He wasn’t going to sub himself out.

Not now he knew you were watching.

—

The match that afternoon was nothing short of brutal.

Ravenclaw had a reputation for smart plays and clever feints, and they came in swinging with strategy and speed. But James was a force. It was like someone had lit a fire under him—every pass was clean, every dodge intentional. He was focused. Sharp. Alive in a way he hadn’t been in days.

The crowd in the stands was on fire.

You’d never really been the biggest Quidditch enthusiast—not like Marlene or even Dorcas, who pretended to be bored most games but secretly had a very complex internal fantasy league ranking system. But today? You were completely, helplessly, entirely invested.

Your throat was raw from shouting. You didn’t even care that Lily kept elbowing you in the ribs every time you shrieked James’s name louder than was probably acceptable for someone not dating him. (Yet.)

“I’m sorry,” you rasped after the sixth time, cupping your hands over your mouth as James executed an absolutely outrageous dive to steal the Quaffle from a Ravenclaw Chaser. “But that was hot. That was so—Lily, did you see that—?”

Lily didn’t even try to pretend she wasn’t grinning. “I saw it. The whole pitch saw it. You are so painfully gone for this boy it’s almost tragic,”

You shoved her shoulder, cheeks on fire, unable to wipe the dopey grin off your face. James was glowing—wind-swept, flushed, every movement clean and confident and completely alive. It was unfair how good he looked flying. Like it was something stitched into his DNA.

Gryffindor was ahead. Barely. And the entire stadium was one collective heartbeat waiting for the final move.

It came with a streak of red and gold as the Seeker bolted upward—Marlene’s signature move—and then a roar from the crowd when she clutched the Snitch in her hand, grinning like a maniac.

“Yes!” you and Lily screamed in unison, nearly falling over the bench in front of you.

Below, the team rushed to meet her midair, swarming in a tangle of hugs and back pats, and James—James looked up toward the stands, searching, scanning, finding you.

Your breath caught. He grinned, absolutely beaming, and you—without thinking—grinned back.

—

The Gryffindor common room was buzzing. It looked like every single student in the house had packed themselves in to celebrate the win. There were butterbeers flying, someone had enchanted the couches to bounce like trampolines, and music blasted from one corner where Sirius had commandeered the record player.

You tried to stay off to the side with Lily and the other girls, laughing and pretending to be just another teammate’s supporter, not the girl who had maybe-sort-of-definitely admitted feelings for the captain.

But they were not having it.

“Go talk to him,” Dorcas demanded, poking you hard in the ribs.

“He just won the Cup, obviously you have to congratulate him,” Mary added, dragging you a few steps forward.

“I will! Just—” You resisted, flustered. “I need a second. Or ten.”

You didn’t get ten.

Because moments later, James appeared near the fireplace, sweaty and still in uniform, laughing at something Sirius said, absolutely radiant. And the girls all but shoved you in his direction.

You stumbled a bit, clutching your butterbeer like a life raft. He noticed you instantly.

His smile faltered. Just slightly.

You walked the rest of the way on your own, heart hammering like a snitch in your chest.

“Hey,” you said.

“Hey,” James replied, voice quieter than usual.

You stared at each other for a long moment.

Then Sirius, bless his idiotic timing, called from across the room. “Oi! If you’re gonna stare at each other all night, at least do it while snogging! Save us all the agony!”

You blinked. James blinked. Your face caught fire.

You coughed, trying to rally. “Congratulatio—”

“I like you.”

You blinked again. He was staring at you now, so intently, like you were the only person in the room. The words spilled out of him like they’d been waiting on his tongue for weeks.

“A lot. It might not even be liking anymore—I think I might actually be in love with you. Which is terrifying, obviously. I mean, do you know how scary that is? I didn’t mean to say that just now but it’s true and now it’s out there and I can’t take it back and I am so definitely panicking right now what am I doing—”

“James.”

He stopped.

You took a step closer.

“I like you too.”

Silence.

Then James let out a sound that was halfway between a gasp and a laugh and maybe a choke. “You do?”

“I do,”

“Like, like-like me?”

You rolled your eyes, grinning now. “Do you want me to write it in a letter that I’ll never send to you?”

“Okay, wow,” James let out a short laugh, one your grateful breaks the tension a little. “Too soon, too soon,”

He looks at you with unbridled affection as you return the laugh with an unapologic “Sorry,”, and he can’t seem to help himself.

“We should kiss now, right? Wait—should I have asked that? That sounded stupid—so stupid—oh my God, what is wrong with me, I’m gonna go cry in a corner—”

You interrupted him the only way that made sense.

You kissed him.

He froze for half a second—just long enough to register that it was actually happening—and then he melted into it like he’d been waiting forever. His hands hovered for a moment before settling, warm and firm, at your waist. His mouth was soft, gentle, hesitant in the best way, like he was afraid he’d wake up and realise this was all a dream.

But it wasn’t. It was very, very real.

And, unfortunately, also very public.

“Oi! You’re in public, you know!” came Marlene’s unmistakable cackle from across the room.

You broke the kiss, face flaming as you realised—oh no—everyone had seen.

Like… everyone.

James looked equally shellshocked. You both stared at the cheering, whooping, laughing room of Gryffindors, then at each other.

You groaned and buried your face in your hands. “Kill me now.”

James laughed, looping his arms around your shoulders and holding you tight, radiating smug glee.

“No can do,” he said into your hair. “I’ve been waiting years for this,”

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered.

“And yet,” he grinned, “you like me anyway.”

You looked up at him. “Unfortunately.”

And yeah, okay—maybe it was chaotic, and soft, and totally unplanned—but your first kiss with James Potter was exactly as ridiculous and wonderful as it should’ve been.

Lily caught your eye across the common room after the commotion of the kiss settled into a hundred knowing glances and too-loud whispers. She made a very obvious, very exaggerated “go!” motion with both hands, then shoved her way across the crowd to reach you.

“We are not doing this in front of thirty nosy Gryffindors,” she said under her breath, looping her arm through yours and all but dragging you toward the dorms.

“Wait, what’s happening—”

“Privacy, darling. Trust me,”

She glanced back at James, who was still slightly dazed, and jerked her head at him. “Potter. Move,”

He blinked. “Yeah—yep—coming.”

“Also,” she added over her shoulder to the room at large, “if anyone so much as breathes near the Head Boy’s dorm in the next hour, I will personally hex your toes off,”

There was a smattering of laughter, but everyone—whether out of respect or fear—gave a collective nod of understanding.

You didn’t even fight her on it. You let her guide you through the winding corridors until James was unlocking the door to his private dorm, a quiet space tucked away on the top floor of Gryffindor Tower.

He stepped aside to let you in first. You walked in slowly, half-expecting something chaotic, like prank supplies or an entire wall of Quidditch posters—but the room was surprisingly clean. A little messy around the edges, sure—a few rogue socks, a quill left in an ink bottle too long—but warm. Lived in. His.

“Your curtains don’t match,” you said, for lack of anything better.

He chuckled nervously. “Yeah. Peter charmed them once to be the colours of the Weird Sisters and I’ve never managed to get them back properly,”

You nodded slowly. “Cool,”

A pause.

Then—

“You’ve liked me since fourth year?”

It slipped out without warning. You hadn’t meant to say it, not so quickly, but the words burned in your chest. That letter, the gold-foiled parchment, the confession—it was still vibrating through you.

James looked startled, but only for a second. He nodded once, soft and certain.

“Yeah,”

You swallowed. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

He smiled faintly, stepping closer. “Because I was a little idiot. Arrogant. Immature. A menace, honestly. You hated me,”

“I didn’t—hate you,”

“You did,”

“…Okay, a little, maybe,”

That made him laugh.

“But honestly— I didn’t think I deserved to like you back then,” he said. “You were smart. And kind. And so real. You were always thinking about things, you saw people. I was just the loud idiot on a broom,”

You were quiet, because hearing it like that—laid out so plainly—made your heart ache.

He was in front of you now, barely a foot away. You thought he was going to kiss you again, but he didn’t.

Instead, James reached up and gently cradled your face in his hands, his thumbs grazing the apple of your cheeks like you were made of glass and starlight. And then he just looked at you. Like he had all the time in the world. Like he was committing every inch of you to memory.

“You have no idea,” he said, voice barely more than a whisper, “how much you make me feel.”

You couldn’t speak.

So instead, you leaned up and kissed him.

This time, there was no chaos. No crowd. No interruptions. Just you, and James, and the warmth of something blooming between your ribs.

It was slow—achingly so—your lips brushing his like a question. He exhaled into you, a soft, broken sound, and kissed you back like you were the answer.

It was… everything.

The kind of kiss that didn’t need to prove itself. One that said: I see you. I’m here. I want this.

Somewhere between one kiss and the next, you murmured, “Thank you,”

He pulled back just slightly, brow furrowing. “For what?”

You looked up at him, heart thundering.

“You didn’t make this some huge thing. You didn’t… turn it into a game, or a bet, or something loud and performative. You liked me. And you didn’t hide it, but you didn’t push me either. You just… were. You were you.” You blinked. “Thank you for being you,”

James’s face crumpled just a little, like he couldn’t decide whether to smile or cry. One of his hands dropped to your waist, the other curling behind your neck like he needed the anchor.

He pressed his forehead to yours, breathing you in.

“I don’t think you know,” he said hoarsely, “how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that,”

You smiled, dizzy with it all. “Well. Get used to it,”

His lips brushed yours again, so soft it was almost nothing. “I’m really, really in love with you,”

Your breath caught.

“I know,” you whispered.

And then you kissed him again.

And again.

And again.

-MDNI FROM THIS POINT ONWARD.-

It started soft—careful, like you were both still testing the weight of the moment. His hands cradled your face like you were something fragile, something precious, something he’d been terrified of holding wrong for years. But each time your mouths met again, the kiss deepened. Grew bolder. A little less hesitant. A little more sure.

Your fingers tangled in his hair—so soft, so stupidly soft—and James let out a noise against your mouth that had your heart stuttering in your chest. The hand cupping your cheek slid down, fingers grazing your jaw, your neck, until it found the curve of your waist and settled there, grounding you.

He was warm. Too warm. Like every inch of him was heat and adrenaline and the barely-contained relief of finally, finally having this.

You tugged him closer.

He didn’t hesitate.

Your back met the edge of the desk behind you, his chest flush with yours, and suddenly there was no air left between your bodies. Just the solid, real weight of him—every inch as solid and strong as you’d imagined when he walked through the halls like the sun had chosen him to orbit around. But here, like this, he was just James. And he was looking at you like he could drown in the sight of you.

His thumb brushed along your hipbone, under the hem of your shirt, and your whole body lit up like you’d been cursed—like every nerve ending had just remembered it was alive.

“Are we—?” he started to ask, breathless.

You kissed him again before he could finish. “I don’t know,” you murmured. “But don’t stop,”

James definitely didn’t stop.

His hands wandered with a careful hunger—like he wanted to memorise the shape of you, not just with touch but with reverence. His mouth followed the same path, trailing kisses from the corner of your lips down the line of your jaw to the soft skin beneath your ear. When he whispered your name there, barely audible, your knees buckled.

You gripped his shirt, fisting the fabric at his chest to stay steady. “God, you’re—” You stopped yourself before the rest could fall out, but the look in his eyes said he’d heard the whole thing anyway.

His lips parted like he wanted to say something—maybe something funny, maybe something devastating—but you kissed him before he had the chance. This time slower, more deliberate, your mouths fitting together like puzzle pieces that had always been waiting for the right alignment.

And it worked. Somehow, it just worked.

The kind of kiss that felt like you’d been chasing it your whole life.

James groaned softly into your mouth, and that noise did something catastrophic to your brain. One of his hands slid up your back, fingers spread wide like he was trying to anchor himself to you, and when you opened your eyes for half a second to look at him, you found him already watching you—eyes blown wide with want, with feeling, with everything.

“I’ve wanted this,” he breathed against your skin. “For so long,”

James kissed you like a man starved after that—still gentle, always careful, but no longer pulling back.

It was clumsy in places, breathless in others. Too many teeth in one kiss, your shoulder knocking into a stack of textbooks in another. But it didn’t matter. None of it mattered.

You were on fire.

And James was the match, the spark, the sun itself.

At some point, his forehead pressed to yours. You both just breathed. Hard. Laughing softly between gasps, because of course it was James who made kissing this addictive and this stupid.

You were lost in him.

In the feel of every inch of him pressed against you—his hips pinning you to the edge of the desk, his body surrounding you like a forcefield of lean muscle and freckled skin.

Heat was unfurling like liquid fire in your veins, but his mouth still traced over your jawline and across your cheek like he couldn’t stop. Like you were precious.

You gripped the fabric of his shirt, tugging hard enough to bring his gaze back to yours and then holding it, your breath hitching when you caught that look in his eyes, and his hips moved—just once, and just a little—and god, what that did to you. How it sent desire flashing like a lightning bolt down your spine to pool low in your stomach, and you had to bite down on your lip to keep from gasping out loud.

His fingers curled around your hips, digging into the soft flesh through your jeans, and then he pulled you closer like he couldn’t get enough. Closer still, until you were practically draped over the desk, your thighs parted and hips flush with his, and he was devouring you—his touch, his kiss, with no sign of being full.

God, he wanted everything.

His hands mapped out the line of your waist, your ribs, your spine, and everywhere you could feel the warm, rough slide of his touch you burned for more. Your heart was beating so fast you were sure he could feel it pulsing through your skin, and when you rolled your hips up towards his you were just as surprised by the noise you made as James was.

He inhaled sharply, swearing softly, and there would have been time to be embarrassed if you weren’t too busy being turned to mush.

“God that was hot,” James practically breathes out the words, hungry eyes half hidden behind fog-covered lenses as they drag down your body.

He looked utterly ruined already. Hair a mess from you running your fingers through it, shirt rumpled from when you couldn’t keep yourself from touching him. Wanting him.

You reached up to cup his face on impulse, your fingers tracing the lines of his cheeks, his jaw, before sliding your fingers across the arms of his glasses, delicately pulling them from his face. “D’you need these?”

The smirk that spreads across his face is just a little bit smug, but it still does things to you. “Depends,” he said, still breathless. “Are we planning on doing anything that would necessitate me being able to see?”

You laugh, dropping both your voices, and it comes out sounding rough. “Maybe not,” you say, slipping the specs into the front pocket of his shirt. “Do you need to be able to see to kiss me?”

His eyes are half-lidded, and you could count each of his eyelashes from the way he’s looking at you, lips still swollen from a few minutes ago. “No,” he murmurs, leaning down to brush his mouth over yours again, “but it does help with the view.”

He took your chin with his finger, tilting your face up so he could take in the sight of you properly. A slow-burning warmth unfurled in your stomach—no, lower than that, and for a few seconds you were both just looking, and it felt almost more intimate than the last few minutes.

“God, you’re… blurry,” he whispered, and you can’t help the sharp laugh that echoes out of your throat.

“Bugger off,” you said, without any real intent behind it. You weren’t even sure why you were acting so shy—maybe you were just overwhelmed by the situation, the feelings, or the way being with James just felt. Whatever the reason, he seemed to find your nervousness amusing.

He chuckled, dipping his head to press a kiss to the sensitive skin just beneath your ear, right there at the edge of your jaw where you were softest. “I’m kidding,” he murmured. “I’m nearsighted. And you’re definitely close enough for me to see,”

He pulled back just enough for the smirk to return, the tips of his fingers grazing over the strip of exposed skin between the hem of your shirt and the waist of your jeans and sending a shiver down your spine. His mouth was still curved in that maddeningly smug smile, but his voice was so low when he continued to talk. “I’m gonna take your shirt off now, okay?”

The question comes out quiet and gentle, but there’s a heat to it too. Asking what you want, asking what you’ll let him have.

You manage a breathless, “okay,” and his gaze is still fixed on you when he lets his hands slide up under your shirt, calloused fingers dancing over the bare skin of your waist.

Every point of contact seemed to sizzle, nerve endings you didn’t even know you had sparking alive beneath his touch. You felt like you were trembling, like every breath hit was a jolt of pure, liquid feeling.

His eyes were still trained on your face as he drew your shirt over your head, gaze drifting across your exposed chest with an unabashed—and kind of feral—kind of reverence. “God, you’re perfect—”

He pressed a kiss to the spot just below your collarbone, and you could feel the rasp of a day’s worth of stubble against your skin, burning down to your very bones. Both his hands splayed across your ribcage, like he was trying to memorise the shape of your body by touch.

You can hear the sharp intake of breath he takes when his fingers catch the edge of your bra, and he’s already murmuring again, his voice a low, wrecked sound against your bare skin. “Can I take this off too?”

You answer by helping him fumble with the hooks, the heat from his skin and his gaze almost too much to bear. By the time it hits the floor somewhere behind you, his mouth has found the delicate, thrumming hollow of your neck, and his hands are wandering lower. Across your stomach, tracing over your curves to slide across your hipbone and dip under the waist of your jeans.

Any coherent thoughts you’d been clinging on to up until this point were gone, lost in a haze of heat and want. Every touch was electric, his mouth searing a path down your neck, across your shoulder, across the bare skin of your collarbone, until he’d left a trail of warm, open-mouthed kisses along the apex of your breasts.

“You sound so good,” he whispered, the words catching against your skin. “Taste so good.”

He was everywhere, surrounding you, all his attention on the body under his touch. His nose grazed the sensitive skin just above your nipple, just a gentle brush at first, and then he flicked the tip of his tongue across the peak of your breast and every nerve in your body went white hot.

“God—” the single syllable comes out as a broken gasp. A plea, maybe, a wordless begging for more.

He chuckled softly, a dangerous, wicked sound, and then he closed his mouth over your nipple and sucked. It felt like he’d lit a fire in the pit of your stomach, like it was all you could do to breathe, and he wasn’t even finished. One of his hands was still holding your hip—steadying you as he switched his attention to the other, teeth scraping just enough to make the heat in your belly flare brighter, deeper, all of your muscles tensing at once.

Every part of you felt like it was on fire, and you were so empty. The ache between your thighs was insistent, demanding attention you couldn’t give it. You let out a breathless whine, shifting to try and get some friction, and when he raised his head to look at you, eyes all half-lidded and mouth still slightly slick, you thought you might actually go insane.

You were so caught up in the moment that it took a second longer than it should’ve to notice the cocky smile plastered across his face. He was watching you writhe under his touch like it was the best show he’d ever seen.

“You good up there?” he said teasingly. “Look like you’re about to combust.”

“Bastard,” you managed, and it sounded as breathless as you felt. You reached up to bury a hand in his hair, tugging on handfuls of messy waves and relishing in the way he cursed softly under his breath. “You’re a goddamn tease.”

He gave the underside of your breast one last wet kiss, then started pressing a line of kisses up your body towards your mouth. “A tease, am I?” He said between kisses, his voice still low and rough. “I don’t know, sounds more like I’m trying my best to be a gentleman instead of rushing into the action,”

“Some gentleman,” you laughed, and that time it came out more of a gasp than anything else. He’d drawn himself up to full height, looking down at you with a smirk that was half amused and half smug, and god, he was handsome. “You’ve got me half naked on your desk, I’m pretty sure that’s the opposite of gentlemanly,”

“That’s not my fault,” he said, mock-offended, and you let out a bark of laughter. “You’re the one who started it. With the shirt, and the kissing. All my good intentions went right out the window,”

You were still giggling—his hand was now tracing idle circles on your hip, gentle and tender—but his touch was driving you insane. He was everywhere, burning through your skin, and all it did was make the heat beneath your ribs worse. You took a deep, shaking breath, trying to slow down your heart.

Your voice came out much more timid than you expected. “You’d probably better finish what you started, then.”

His eyes caught yours, and the smile that spread across his face sent a shiver straight down your spine. “Are you asking me to take your pants off, sweetheart?”

You rolled your eyes at the endearment, but it was impossible to stay irritated with the way your heart was jumping into your throat. “I’m asking you to take your pants off, actually,”

He raised an eyebrow, expression still cocky but edged with a touch of surprise. He looked so good like that—glasses missing, mouth pink and kiss-swollen, eyes fixed on your every move. “Consider it done,”

He took your chin in one hand, his touch almost teasing, tilting your head back to give himself full access to the line of your neck. His other hand drifted to rest on your side, pulling you away from the desk to push you over to his four-poster instead.

It was a bit undignified, stumbling backwards while he was still glued to your neck, but somehow you both managed to land in a heap on the mattress, with him on top. The sheets rustled in protest, and god, you could just feel his weight on top of you, pinning you to the mattress and setting fire to every point of contact.

You barely even noticed him pulling off his own shirt and pants, your mind too clouded with desire to pay attention. You just watched, taking in the sight of his bare chest and the sharp planes of his muscles, his lean and strong and all you could do was reach up to run your hands down across his shoulders—over the freckles and moles and scars that covered his skin.

He let out a strangled sound when your hands slid over the waistband of his boxers, his eyes fixed on your face, his whole body rigid under your touch as the fabric drags down his thighs. He was breathless, his breathing coming fast and shallow, but he still managed to speak.

“You seem to be missing a few things, if you haven’t noticed.” His voice was still that same, annoyingly smooth, but there was a rasp to it too. Like talking was suddenly more difficult than it should have been.

And yeah, okay, he had a point. You hadn’t even realised you were still wearing jeans until now, but it was quickly becoming an issue. He was still pinning you to the mattress, but you managed to lift your hips up under him enough to reach the zipper on your pants.

He sat back on his heels, watching you struggle out of your jeans—he reached down to help when your legs got tangled, and you swore the smirk on his face when he got the second leg off was almost wolfish. “Careful, there, you almost kneed me in the bollocks.”

“Too bad, I was aiming for them.”

He laughed, running a hand up your bare thigh, fingers tracing across the edge of your underwear and making your whole body burn. “Nice knickers.”

“Shut up,” you said, but your voice was already hoarse, half from the effort of talking and half from the way every little touch seemed to send lightning straight to the pit of your stomach. “You literally have snitches on your boxers, you’re not allowed to make fun of me,”

“For your information, they’re my lucky boxers,” he said, as if it was the most logical thing in the entire world. “And they seem to be working,”

You were about to comment on the ridiculousness of that statement, but then he let his hand brush over the damp patch in your panties and every thought in your head evaporated in about ten seconds flat. “Oh, fuck—”

His touch was agonising. Just a single, gentle stroke traced across the edge of your underwear, but it felt like being set on fire. “You’re so wet,” he murmured, still watching your face like the world’s most beautiful train wreck, and the way he’s smirking is just a little bit cruel. “Is this all because of me?”

You should’ve found the teasing infuriating—maybe even patronising, but your head was spinning and you were so turned on you couldn’t think straight. “You know it is,” you managed to gasp out, arching your hips up into his touch and desperately trying to find more friction.

His thumb pressed across your clit through your underwear and the gasp that came out of your mouth was practically obscene. “Good,” he said. “I like that.”

He was shifting back on top of you, and his mouth was on your neck, hot and wet and distracting, and you’d almost forgotten about his thumb until it moved again—a slow, torturous circle that had you whining. “God, you sound so good,” he murmured against your skin. “Can I take these off? Please?”

If you’d had even a second of self-control left, you probably would’ve found the way he was almost begging for it adorable, but as it was all you could manage to do was nod.

You felt more than heard him swear, and the next thing you know he’s hooking his fingers around the elastic of your underwear, pulling them down your legs with a speed that says he’s having trouble keeping his own eagerness in check.

He sat back once you were completely naked—just you, sprawled out on his four-poster, bare and trembling and wanting. Every part of you felt like it was on edge, like you’d fall apart as soon as he touched you again.

He was looking at you like he was starving, eyes wandering across every inch of your body. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, “Merlin, look at you,”

You couldn’t help but shiver under his gaze, the feeling of helplessness sending another jolt of heat down your spine. You’d almost gotten used to seeing that cocky smirk of his, but now it was gone—replaced by a look you couldn’t place, like he was in awe of you.

You watched helplessly as he shifted, his body covering yours again, bare skin against bare skin. His cock was already hard against your thigh and you were so empty that you knew nothing except the urge to have him as close to you as possible. “Please,” you managed to say, words a gasp as he traced a finger over your hip.

He groaned softly at the desperation in your voice, and then he was reaching down, his fingers finding your opening and sliding in. All you could do was moan out loud, clenching around him and aching for more. “God—” His voice was ragged, rough, like he was using all his willpower just to keep himself from going too fast. “That’s it. That’s it,” he murmured, his forehead dropping against your shoulder. “You’re so tight.”

“You’re gonna destroy me,” you gasped out, as he slowly started to pump his fingers in and out. “I—” Whatever you’d been about to say dissolved into another moan. “Please, just—”

“I’ve got you,” he said, and another kiss, against your collarbone. “I’ve got you, I’ll take care of you,” And then he added a third finger, and you were certain you wouldn’t even be able to string words together anymore.

“Oh god—oh, god—” Your back arched again, hips lifting off the bed, and he curled his fingers again and the pleasure of it was so sharp it almost hurt.

“Just like that? You like that?” He murmured softly against your skin.

You weren’t even sure how to answer that, your brain so overwhelmed by heat and pleasure that all you could do was let out a helpless whine.

He kept pumping his fingers, working you open, and you were trembling with the effort of trying not to let go just yet. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice, and god, he was so cocky like this. “Just be patient—”

You gasped out something between a laugh and a moan. “Patient? You have some nerve—”

“Oh, I’ve got plenty of nerve,” he said, and then he pulled his fingers out with another sound from your throat. You were about to complain, but he kissed you before you could—a brief brush of his mouth on yours that was so distracting you almost didn’t notice him moving until he was between your thighs.

He had one hand on your hip and the other wrapped around himself, and the way he’s looking at you makes your whole body ache.

“You ready?” He asked, and his voice is still rough and a little breathy. You nodded, words failing you, and the sound he made was almost desperate.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmured, and then the tip of his cock was right at your entrance and you were trembling so badly you were almost whimpering.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good,” he promised, and then he started to press in. It was a torturously slow stretch, every inch of him filling you like you were made for him. You’re still too full of him—you clench around him without meaning to, and all of him shudders.

“Oh my god,” he says, and it comes out like a gasp, and when he’s finally in all the way you feel like you might cry, like he’s touching all of those parts of you you’ve been waiting for him to find.

“Oh, god,” you moan, and it’s all you can manage. It’s just too much—the feeling of him, the stretch of your body, the heat in your ribs that you can’t seem to breathe around. It’s like he’s everywhere, and you’re not sure you want it to ever stop.

“I’ve got you,” he says, and he’s starting to move, “that’s it, breathe. Just feel me.” He leans down to kiss you, messy and sloppy, just a brush of open mouths before you’re arching off the bed and his lips are on your neck.

“You look so god damn good like this,” his thrusts are slow, deep, and they’re already driving you mad. “All spread out for me.” You can’t even answer him in words anymore, every sound slipping out of your mouth a high, breathy whine.

He keeps up his torturously slow pace for what feels like a small eternity, and every time he pushes in you can feel him against the inside of you, like your body was made to take him in. “You feel so good,” he’s murmuring, “God, why haven’t we done this before?”

“Maybe if you hadn’t been a coward for the last three years—” Your response is humorous, lighthearted, and falls almost completely flat as it comes out more desperate than goading.

But everything feels so good—he feels so good, the slow drag of his cock filling you over and over, his hands on your thighs holding you open just for him, his teeth and mouth everywhere they can reach.

He laughs, the sound coming out as half-moan, and it’s incredible how he’s somehow still acting cheeky when he’s like this—like the whole world has shrunk down to the two of you and there’s still room for playfulness. “Maybe if you hadn’t been so blind you would’ve noticed me sooner,” he says, and he’s still teasing, like he isn’t literally inside you, and you’d hit him if you had the brainpower. “You could’ve had this the whole time.”

Your face is so flushed it feels like you’re on fire, every muscle in your body tense and trembling. You dig your nails into his shoulders, trying to find some kind of anchor. “You’re still a cocky bastard, you know that?” But it’s hard to keep up the banter, and all it comes out sounding like is a soft whine.

“I know,” he grins, and he’s so smug you’d almost hate him if you weren’t so desperate for him. “God why didn’t I know sex felt this good-?” He leans down again, his mouth hovering over yours, the heat of him so close that you can feel it and it burns.

“Maybe I’m just that good,” you manage to say—and yes, okay, your voice is half a gasp and the words are broken, breathless by the way he’s still moving inside you, but you still manage.

He laughs again, sharp and ragged at the edge, and you feel like you’re being unwound like some old toy, your whole body vibrating like a live wire. The stretch of him is almost too much to bear.

He’s still smirking when he says, “And you call me cocky,”

He’s picking up the pace, but only just enough to make you whine again, his head dipped to mouth at your throat again.

You’re so tight around him it’s like he’s trying to make you come apart one piece at a time, his breath warm against your skin as he keeps whispering. “But you’re right, you feel so damn good—”

He’s losing control, losing his smugness, because despite what he said about patience he looks like he’s ready to go over the edge already. But he’s still got that smirk on his face, like even now, when he’s all ragged breaths and desperate thrusts, he’s still teasing. “I should’ve done this sooner. Should’ve taken you back here back in fourth year. Should’ve had you like this when I first started thinking about you,”

His hands are on your hips, his thumbs digging into your hipbones like he’s trying to hold himself back from just snapping and going wild on you.

“Should’ve had every day in fifth year," he’s panting now, and he’s still going just as slow, making it feel like you���re being taken apart, piece by piece. “Would’ve been better than those stupid pranks.”

You can’t even laugh—you just can’t, every nerve in your body is set off like a firework. You manage, “You’re- you’re terrible,” but then you’re arching your hips up into him, your body taking over despite yourself.

“I’m terrible,” he agrees, but he’s grinning, he’s breathless and there’s a sweat on his forehead and he still looks infuriatingly gorgeous. “Doesn’t change the fact that I want you so bad I can’t think straight. Couldn’t, back then. Just followed you around like an idiot.”

“You were an idiot,” you manage, and he’s moving faster now, his arms shaking on either side of you. “You-ah—” You’re falling apart—you can feel it happening—“you were an arrogant bastard—”

He’s kissing your neck and it just makes you louder, your words coming out in ragged gasps. “I know,” he says, like he’s laughing, and you would want to smack him if he didn’t feel so good. “I was an arrogant bastard who was in love with you,”

The words hit you like a bolt of lightning. You open your mouth to respond, but right at that moment he thrusts in a way that hits that spot inside you that makes your vision go white, and the sound that comes out of you is so indecent.

“You—oh, god—” You’re trembling, you’re coming undone underneath him, and he’s doing his best to keep up the pace but you can tell there’s something desperate taking over. “I’m- god, I can’t, I’m so-“

He’s losing more and more control, his breathing ragged and his own body shaking as like he’s just barely holding himself together.

“Please,” it comes out like a gasp, “just come for me, please, come on-” And he’s begging, now, like he couldn’t stand it another minute more, “I just want you to come, please, you’re so perfect—”

He’s pressing right against that spot, over and over, and you’re so on edge you think you might be dreaming. “I’m gonna— oh, god-”

His hand has snuck down between you, fingers moving in tight, fast circles on you clit, and everything is so close and so hot you could die— “God, you look perfect, come on, that’s it, you’re so good—“

The tension in you is snapping, and you’re on the edge, you’re so close you can’t see straight. “Please, I— I-“ you’re there, you’re there, you’re going to fall but he’s falling too.

“Come on, you’re so close, just come-“ He’s begging again, and you’re shaking so hard you feel like you might fall apart—and then you do, and the pleasure hits like a lightning bolt, and you’re crying out loud, the sound breaking like a whimper, and you feel like you’re going to fall apart.

“Oh, god-” His body’s shaking, the breath leaving his chest in ragged gasps, and you’re just clinging to him, riding out the aftershocks of your orgasm and shaking so hard you think you might go insane. “Oh, god, oh, god-”

It didn’t really help that James was still going.

“God you’re so beautiful,” he’s saying, “God, you’re so beautiful, you’re so good, you’re so-“

Another wave comes over you like a shockwave, and it’s almost too much, you’re so sensitive and over-whelmed you feel like it’ll break you, but he’s still going, still moving inside you, still driving you straight through the edge of pleasure and over it into something bright-hot and almost frantic. “God, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come—“ He’s falling apart, and he’s never looked better. “I’ll pull out I promise—”

You can’t find the words to answer him, but you manage a nod, your whole body trembling as you cling to him.

He swore, and he’d almost be swearing with that same cocky smirk if it weren’t for the fact that he’s falling apart completely, gasping out “You’re gonna kill me, you’re gonna-”

His whole body trembles, and then he’s pulling out, just in time, his body going rigid, his mouth finding yours in a messy, desperate sort of kiss. And he’s still shaking, still panting against your skin, his forehead pressed against yours like he’s never going to let go, watery ropes of his come left decorating your pussy and your torso.

“Fuck,” he’s panting, and he’s still shaking but there’s a smile on his face, like he’s drunk and blissed out and just happy. “Just- give me a minute, just a minute-”

You just lie there, feeling like you’ve just been set on fire and left to burn, and he’s pressing kisses wherever he can reach, on your neck, your temple, the corner of your mouth, until both of you are finally still, just lying wrapped up in each other.

He’s wrapped himself around you like he’ll never move again, his face buried in your neck, and your whole body feels like it’s come unglued.

After a few minutes, he lifts his head to look at you, and that smirk is back, the bastard. “So,” he says, and there’s a sly look in his eyes. “Did I live up to the hype?”

“There was no hype, James, you were a virgin,” You laugh shortly with a roll of your eyes, shifting your legs a little wider open to accommodate for the stickiness between them.

“Ouch.” He winces dramatically. “You’re gonna ruin my ego.”

He’s looking at you with so much heat you’re half-convinced he’s about to go for round two, but then he shifts, pulling away to lie down next to you, your legs tangled together. He’s still grinning, a smug sort of half-smile on his face.

“Don’t look so damn pleased with yourself,” you grumble, but you’re still so buzzed up and he’s looking at you like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen.

He’s looking at you with a kind of reverence you’ve never seen before, but he covers it up with the same stupid smirk he always wears. “So,” he says, like he’s casually mentioning the weather. “You, uh… had fun?”

You laugh—that’s a severe understatement of the year—and you can’t help but smile at the boyish enthusiasm in his expression. “Yeah,” you say, a little softer. “I did.”

He grins at that, and then he’s rolling on top of you again, covering you with his body like a blanket. “I’m assuming that means we can do this again sometime.”

The words come out as the same obnoxious cockiness, still cocky and self-assured, but there’s something almost… nervous underneath it, like he’s not really being blasé at all. You hum, tilting your chin back enough that he can bury his face in your neck. “Yeah,” you say, and you wrap your arms around his back, tracing the knobs of his spine with your fingers. “Yeah, we can probably do this again. But maybe take me on a date first next time,” You laugh.

He grins against your neck, his mouth still leaving lazy kisses on every part of your skin it can reach. “That’s fair,” he murmurs, and his breath on your neck sends a shiver through you. “I have to romance you first. I can do that.” His teeth nip at your earlobe, and you can feel the sharp edge of of a grin. “I could even be a gentleman about it, if you wanted.”

“You? Be a gentleman?” You fake gasp, like it’s the most ridiculous suggestion you’ve ever heard. “Absolutely unheard of.”

He snorts, and you can feel the smile on his mouth, hot and wet against your skin. “You’re laughing, but I could be incredibly charming if I wanted to,” He’s still just mouthing at you, running his teeth over the soft underside of your jaw. “You read my letters,”

“Yeah,” you admit, almost against your will. “I did.”

He pulls back to look at you with a lazy, smug half-smile. “And they were charming?”

You roll your eyes at him, but you’re still smiling. “They were… acceptable.”

“Acceptable,” he sighs sadly, mock-disappointed. “I don’t know how I feel about being reduced to ‘acceptable’. I put a lot of work into those letters, you know.”

But he’s grinning, his chin propped up on your chest with his chin, like he’s waiting to get a response. “Come on. I’m at least worth ‘good,’ right?”

“Yeah, alright,” you give in, even though ‘good’ isn’t nearly enough to describe his letters. “They were good. They were… nice.”

He pouts, like a kid who did a drawing and didn’t get a gold star. “Nice? Jesus, you do not understand the concept of positive reinforcement.”

“Sorry,” you say, with your best attempt at earnestness, “how about this? They were fantastic. World class even. You should be writing love letters professionally.”

It takes him a moment of studying you to realise you’re joking, but then he sighs in mock-agony, burying his face in your neck. “I can’t believe I’ve fallen for a girl who’s mean to me,”

“Yeah,” you say, and you’re laughing, now, your whole body shaking with gales of laughter. “You’re really just… the world’s biggest loser.”

He huffs good-naturedly, his face still hidden in your neck. “Says the girl whose been attracted to me for years,”

“Says the boy who wrote me sappy-ass love letters like a Victorian maiden,” you retort.

He laughs at that, but it’s not mean or mocking. “It’s a wonder you didn’t catch on, honestly,” he mutters jokingly, “I laid it on so thick I thought even you would see me pining tragically through all the ink I used to write about how obsessed with you I was.”

You bite back a smile at that, rolling your eyes at his mock-exasperation. “God, you’re dramatic.”

His mouth presses a soft, wet kiss under your jaw, and he murmurs against your skin—“You like it, though.”

It’s a statement, not a question.

And he’s right, because you do—you do like him, when he’s all bluster and bravado and bullshit, and you like him like this too, when he’s gentle and reverent and a tad bit vulnerable. “Yeah,” you say, and it’s soft. “I do.”

[cruel-seduction]

Not So Golden Now, Are You?

Summary - Where in your not-quite-friendship with James Potter thrives on mutual mockery—you call him daddy’s babygirl because he flaunts his daddy's money, he calls you whatever gets under your skin fastest. It’s never serious… until he parrots back a joke you made about your looks, the kind of joke people only make after crying over it alone.Which you were sure that you never made about him. What he thought was harmless banter turns out to be your breaking point, and while everyone else laughs it off, you don’t. Not this time. And now James—cocky, clueless, James—is stuck trying to fix a crack he didn’t mean to make, humiliating himself in ways no Marauder ever has… all in the hopes of earning a single, goddamn, laugh from you again.

Tone: Gritty, emotional, enemies-to-lovers like kinda (idk I am confused myself. What do you mean just cause I wrote it I should know what it means) with heavy hurt/comfort and a golden boy begging for forgiveness.

Part - 2

There was a particular type of hell reserved for group hangouts where everyone was prettier than you. You know the kind—flawless skin, perfect hair, the kind of laugh that didn't sound like a dying kettle.

And unfortunately for you, that was every single Gryffindor gathering.

Especially when Lily Evans was present. With her radiant glow, timeless hair, and bone structure carved by Aphrodite’s jealous cousin. And not to forget Marlene McKinnon, who looked like she got ready by having woodland creatures sing her into a custom-tailored outfit.

Meanwhile, you looked like you were personally styled by anxiety and unresolved childhood trauma.

You were sitting cross-legged in the Gryffindor common room, huddled in a circle on worn rugs and beat-up couches with the usual suspects: Sirius, James, Remus, Peter, Lily, Marlene, Dorcas… and unfortunately, you.

You were always the +1. A friend of a friend. Mostly tolerated. Occasionally useful. Never the moment. Or that’s what you liked to believe. You leaned back on your palms, casting a casual glance at Lily, who was radiant even while fiddling with her shoelace.

And then you did what all insecure, self-deprecating people do—you made a joke before anyone else could beat you to the punch. “Some girls are born to be photographed. I was born to stand next to them and make them look like paid models by comparison.”

It was said with a wink and a smirk, aimed at Lily—because that's what you did. Make fun of yourself first, before someone else could. Maybe to hear that you’re not just a background character. Those people actually liked hanging out with you. That you were not a charity case. The group chuckled. Lily swatted your shoulder gently, "Oh, come on, you're gorgeous, shut up."

You held up your hand. “No, no. I bring balance. I’m the garlic bread on the table of ten-star entrées. Comforting. Slightly burnt. Easily ignored once the main course arrives.”

Sirius snorted. “You are the garlic bread. Bit crunchy, slightly dangerous, but always there.” You faked a smile, the thing you have mastered for years.. “See? Someone appreciates my contribution to visual mediocrity.”

James was leaning back in one of the armchairs, lazily bouncing a snitch between his fingers. You hadn’t said much to him—your friendship was more a result of mutual proximity than actual emotional investment. You didn’t like him, really. Or that’s what you tried to believe whenever your heart beats too loud near him or whenever you catch yourself smiling, whenever he laughs or whenever you care about him too much but c’mon friends care about each other. That’s not love. Right?. He was loud, always joking, and had a superiority complex that made you want to shove him into a broom closet and lock the door.

Still. He had his moments.

“Honestly,” he said, voice casual, “we should give (Y/N) a badge or something. Hogwarts’ Official Pretty-Girl Enhancer.” He didn’t even look up. Just tossed the snitch in the air again. “Without her, hot girls everywhere would lose contrast.”

There was a beat of silence. Not loud. Not dramatic.

Just… still.

Like someone had knocked the air out of your lungs without touching you. And then, like the smug bastard he was, he added with a grin, “MVP of average.”

Your face didn’t move. You didn’t laugh. You always laughed at yourself, even if it hurt—but not this time. Because he said it with such ease. Such dismissive amusement. Like it was true. Like he just casually confirmed the thing you’d been trying to pretend wasn’t already gnawing at your insides.

Sirius barked out a laugh. “Oi, she’s gonna hex your balls off, Prongs.”

James just shrugged. Still grinning. Still not looking at you. And you? You wanted to melt into the floorboards. Or maybe launch yourself off the Astronomy Tower. Either one was fine.

You looked around—Remus furrowed his brow slightly, eyes flicking toward you, but didn’t say anything. Peter was too busy stuffing his face with biscuits. Marlene giggled absently.

But Lily. Lily noticed. Her gaze snapped to you, sharp and immediate.

She cleared her throat, forced a smile. “So! Who’s ready for Hogsmeade this weekend? I heard Honeydukes is stocking those fizzy sugar spiders again—”

And just like that, the moment passed.

Except it didn’t. Not for you.

Because you weren’t angry. Not really. You were humiliated. Quietly. Sharply.

And that was always worse.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

James Potter didn’t think much of it at first.

You always laughed at jokes. Even the ones aimed at you. Especially the ones aimed at you. It was your thing—sarcasm, wit, never letting anything stick long enough to scar. You insulted him all the time. Called him an overgrown golden retriever with the emotional range of a teaspoon. Told him he looked like a walking ego with legs. And he gave it right back—always.

So when he made that comment earlier about you being the "MVP of average," he expected you to roll your eyes, maybe call him a narcissistic broomstick with daddy’s money, and then snatch the last chocolate frog from his hand out of spite.

He didn’t expect silence.

He didn’t expect that deadpan look on your face.

He didn’t expect you to leave the circle early, claiming you had to finish a Potions essay you definitely finished last week. But hey. Maybe you were just tired. That’s what he told himself.

Right up until that night.

The dorm was dimly lit, soft firelight flickering across the old stone walls. Sirius was balancing Bertie Bott’s beans on his nose, Peter was whining about something in his sleep, and James was halfway through retelling a Quidditch story that no one had asked for.

That’s when Remus spoke. Quiet. Cold. “Do you ever think before you open your mouth?”

James blinked. “Er—what?” Remus didn’t look up from his book. “About what you said to (Y/N).”

Sirius, for once, stopped being a jackass long enough to glance up too. James frowned. “It was a joke. We always—she always says worse things about herself.”

“You just took someone’s worst fear and turned it into a punchline,” Remus said. His voice wasn’t angry. That would’ve been easier. It was disappointed. And that? That cut deeper. “She doesn’t think she matters, James. And you just proved it.”

And then it hit him.

The way your laugh hadn’t had that sharp, mischievous ring to it. No sass. No playful dig. Just… that sound. Bitter. Hollow. Like someone smiling at their own eulogy.

He sat up straighter. His mind flicked back to earlier—your crossed arms, your stiff posture, the way you stared at the fireplace without saying a word while the rest of them laughed.

The way Lily had cut in, voice suddenly chipper, shoving the conversation forward like she was trying to outrun something. The way you never came back with a comeback.

And James Potter, who could bullshit his way out of every detention, every prank, every emotional disaster, suddenly found himself choking on silence.

His breath caught.

All he could see was your face when he said it. That flicker in your eyes. That little twitch of your mouth that wasn’t amusement—it was restraint. Control. You’d been swallowing it down, choking on the embarrassment while he and Sirius laughed like idiots.

“You think she’s fine because she’s funny,” Remus muttered, standing and tossing his book onto the trunk at the foot of his bed. “But sometimes funny is just... the mask.”

James didn’t sleep that night.

Because now he remembered every time you called yourself “forgettable,” how you always stood behind Lily in photos, how you never really let anyone compliment you without joking your way out of it.

And now? Now he realized he hadn’t made a joke. He’d hit the bullseye on someone’s deepest wound and laughed about it.

He remembered the way you stayed up all night when Remus was sick during exams, rewriting all his notes, color-coded and organized like some kind of academic art piece.

How you always, always made Sirius laugh on his worst days. Even when he came back from Christmas break with bruises on his wrists and a cigarette burn he didn’t explain, you were there. Mocking him gently. Loving him fiercely. Whispering, “I’m proud of you, Sirius Black,” like your voice could stitch him back together.

He remembered how you scolded them like a mother one minute and made them snort Butterbeer through their noses the next. How your eyes always twinkled before a comeback. How you once threw your shoe at him for transfiguring your ink into glitter, then asked if he was cold and tucked a scarf around his neck anyway.

He loved that about you.

God, he loved you.

Not that he’d ever admit it. Not to himself. Not out loud. Not when everything between you was built on chaos and roasting each other like Sunday dinner. But you mattered to him. And tonight, he’d made you feel like you didn’t.

He’d taken the thing you feared most—and instead of seeing it, understanding it, protecting it—he’d dragged it out in front of your friends and slapped a joke sticker on it. All because he didn’t think. Because he figured you’d laugh. Because he always made you laugh. But you didn’t.

And now, the damage was done. James Potter had humiliated the girl he secretly, stupidly, undeniably loved. And now?

Now he was completely, utterly screwed.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

James couldn't sleep.

His bed felt too stiff, the blankets too heavy, and every creak of the castle sounded like the echo of your laugh—that hollow, bitter one that had etched itself into his skull. He needed air. Space. Somewhere to untangle the storm inside his chest.

So he walked.

Up the stairs, past the darkened classrooms and snoozing portraits, until he reached the one place that had always helped him think. The Astronomy Tower. He pushed the heavy door open quietly, half-hoping for solitude. But he stopped dead the moment he heard it.

A soft sound. Muffled.

A sniff.

Then another.

And then your voice—barely a whisper. Wavering. “God, pull it together…”

James froze.

He crept quietly around the stone barrier, heart hammering. And there you were, tucked into the hidden nook behind the telescope—knees hugged to your chest, jumper sleeves soaked from wiping your eyes. The stars above cast pale light across your face, catching the streaks of old tears, fresh ones still trailing silently down.

He didn’t think. “Hey,” he breathed.

You jumped, swiping at your cheeks violently, like you could erase the evidence before he fully saw you. “Oh,” you croaked, blinking fast. “James.”

You said his name like it burned your mouth. “What are you doing here?” you asked quickly, voice stiff, pretending like your throat wasn’t raw.

“I could ask you the same,” he said, carefully stepping closer.

You sat up straighter, already slipping your mask back on. “I, uh—nothing, just allergies,” you lied, blinking up at the sky. “Stars make my eyes water. Bastards.” He didn’t laugh.

“Really?,” he said, gently. You didn’t look at him.

“I’m fine.” He crouched down beside you. “Are you?”

You nodded quickly, too quickly. “Yeah, it’s nothing. Really. Just—long day. You know me, dramatic as ever.”

He hated that.

The way you hid pain behind humor like it was a shield. Like you weren’t allowed to be hurt. You sniffed, voice light, too light.

His jaw tensed. “Is this about earlier?”

You didn’t answer.

“I’m serious,” he said, moving to sit beside you now. “That thing I said... I didn’t mean it like that.”

You gave a little shrug. “Doesn’t matter. It’s fine.”

“No,” he snapped, sudden and sharp. “It’s not fine.”

You turned your head, startled.

He looked at you, eyes burning. "You think I don’t see it, but I do. God, I do. I saw your face today—the way your smile cracked like glass, the way you laughed like it physically hurt, like it was splintering something inside you just to pretend. And I can’t take it. I can’t keep watching you fold yourself smaller just to make everyone else feel okay. I need you to tell me what’s wrong. Don’t shut me out like this, don’t lie to my face with that same soft “I’m fine” when your eyes are screaming everything but fine. I know I hurt you. I know I did. And maybe you don’t want me to carry that, but I should. I am. You’re allowed to be mad, to be heartbroken, to want to scream or cry or even hate me for what I did. You don’t have to protect me from your pain. You don’t have to smile through it just to keep the peace. I don’t want peace if it means you breaking yourself into pieces to give it. So don’t look at me like that and say it’s fine."

Your lips parted slightly, but you didn’t speak.

“I thought you’d laugh,” he said quietly. “We always mess around. I didn’t know I—I didn’t realize it was something real. That it would actually...”

He trailed off.

You exhaled shakily. “It’s not your fault.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, James,” you snapped, eyes finally locking on his. “It’s mine. I told myself it was okay. That I’d be the sidekick. The friend. The funny girl who stands in the background. The contrast. Because if I say it first, if I laugh about it—then it can’t hurt, right?”

Your voice broke on the last word.

James felt like the ground had cracked under him.

“But it still did,” you whispered. “When you said it out loud, it just—it felt like someone had pulled the last thread holding me together. I don’t think you understand what that moment did to me. It wasn’t just words. It was everything I’ve ever feared, wrapped in your voice. Like it wasn’t a joke anymore. Like it was real. Like everyone around us already knew, and you just finally said it out loud. That I really am the filler in the photo. The extra. The one you crop out or blur past. The shadow to someone else’s light. I’ve felt like that for so long, like I’m just there, taking up space, trying to smile pretty enough that no one notices I don’t belong. But hearing it from you—it shattered something in me. And the way you said it, so fucking casually, like it didn’t matter... that’s what kills me. It’s like I didn’t even register as something fragile to you.

And I know I didn’t say anything. I just laughed it off like always. Like I’m good at doing. Like I’ve trained myself to do. But inside, I was screaming. I was begging for someone to just see me—really see me—and pull me out of this mess in my chest. I kept hoping, stupidly, that maybe you saw something more in me. Something worth holding onto. But maybe that was my fault. Maybe I made that up. Maybe I wanted too much. I’m sorry. No—really—I’m sorry. For having expectations. For thinking I could be someone that mattered to you, even for a second. I should’ve known better. I always do.”

His heart twisted.

You wiped your nose, furious at the tears that wouldn’t stop.

“I’ve spent so long convincing myself I was fine with it,” you said, quieter now. “But when you said it? I don’t know. It felt like the whole world joined in.”

James swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”

You looked away.

“I mean it,” he continued, voice thick. “I’m such an idiot. I didn’t mean it like that. When I called you the “MVP of average,” I thought I was being funny—stupid, harmless—but I wasn’t thinking, and I sure as hell wasn’t seeing. Not the way you needed me to. Not the way I should’ve. And it’s killing me, knowing those words came from me, from someone who looks at you like you hung the stars and then taught the sky how to shine. You think you’re the shadow to someone else’s light? No. You are the light. You’re the kind of light that slips through curtains at 4am and makes a broken person believe in warmth again. You're the reason color exists in a world I forgot was turning grey. And me? I’m just the fool who thought he could throw around careless jokes and you'd somehow still know how goddamn divine I think you are.”

He continued, His voice so pure of determination that it made you think he has practised this script thousand times before but the pureness in his eyes made you think otherwise. He continued “If you asked me to, I’d write your name into the marrow of my bones just so you’d know you’re etched in me. If you told me you liked the rain, I’d drown smiling just to taste what you love. I would pour honey on my heartbreak if I thought the sweetness might remind you of your laugh. I'd salt my wounds if it made them smell like your perfume. I would tear out every page where I wrote someone else's name, just to make space for yours. I didn’t say what I said because I had to—I said it because I thought I was close enough to be stupid and you'd forgive me. But I forgot… I forgot how deep words can slice, especially when the person hearing them already walks around stitched together with silence. Remus had to tell me. That’s how blind I was. You laughed, and I believed it—because I wanted to believe it. And that’s on me. That’s my failure. But now that I know? I’d beg if that’s what it takes. On my knees, on broken glass, under the weight of every word I should have never said. I’d beg a thousand times over, not just for forgiveness—but for another chance to look at you right, to say it right. Because you’re not average. You are the goddess I whisper prayers to when no one’s listening. And I—I am just the fool who didn’t realize he was already living in the temple of your presence. Let me stay. Let me make it right. Let me love you like I should’ve from the beginning.”

Your eyes flicked to his—raw, red, vulnerable. Then you stood. Fast.

The cold air caught your breath as you turned your back to him.

“You don’t get to make this about your guilt,” you said, voice low and hard. “I’m allowed to be angry, James. I’m allowed to not forgive you.”

He stood slowly behind you.

“I know.”

You didn’t look at him as you stepped toward the stairs.

“I’m not the girl who falls apart in front of people,” you said. “And I’m sure as hell not the girl who forgives the boy who made her feel invisible so easily with just some speech he gave her..”

And then you walked away.

James didn’t follow.

He just stood there—alone, under a sky full of stars—and watched the one person he wanted to make smile disappear down the steps, carrying a storm in her chest and tears he’d put there.

And for once in his life, James Potter had no idea what the fuck to do.

[srslyblvck]

── secret santa,, james potter [part one]

pairing: james potter x fem!reader

synopsis: in which you become the secret santa of none other than james potter

genre: fluff

warnings: none

author's note: ik it isn't even december, oh well, i couldn't help myself :)

word count: 1.1k

part two!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ SNOW FLUTTERED GENTLY AGAINST the tall, frosted windows of the Gryffindor common room, casting a soft glow over the cosy space. The fire crackled merrily in the hearth, and the air buzzed with anticipation as the Gryffindor gang gathered in a circle on the floor, laughing and sipping on mugs of cocoa.

Sirius, always the self-appointed leader of mischief, stood atop one of the squishy armchairs like he was addressing a crowd of thousands. His dark hair flopped dramatically as he gestured toward the large bowl of folded parchment in his hands.

“Lend me your ears!” Sirius announced with flair. “It is time for the greatest, most legendary Gryffindor tradition—our annual Secret Santa! The only thing that rivals this sacred event is when James hexed Snivellus’—”

“Sirius!” Lily interrupted, fixing him with a sharp glare, though the corners of her mouth twitched in amusement. “If you could manage to keep it PG, that’d be great.”

Sirius sighed dramatically, holding a hand to his chest. “Evans, your lack of faith wounds me. I’m a model of propriety.”

Remus snorted softly from his seat on the arm of the couch. “Sure you are.”

“Can we please get on with it before Sirius bursts into a sonnet about himself?” James chimed in, sprawled out on the floor with his hands behind his head. His untamable hair stuck out in every direction, and his glasses were slightly askew. He was grinning, the kind of grin that could light up an entire room.

“You’re just eager because you’re convinced you’ll get Evans again,” Marlene teased, leaning over to flick James on the shoulder.

James shot her a mock-wounded look. “For your information, I have no such hopes. My heart will graciously accept any gift—except socks. Sirius.”

Sirius gasped. “I would never.”

“You absolutely would,” Dorcas piped up with a smirk, earning a round of laughter from the group.

“Alright, alright!” Sirius cut in, gesturing dramatically toward the bowl in his hands. “The rules are simple: pick a name, don’t tell anyone who you’ve got, and if your gift sucks, prepare to be ruthlessly mocked.”

“Sounds fair,” Peter muttered as he scratched his nose.

One by one, the group leaned forward to pluck a slip of parchment from the bowl. You waited until your turn, your fingers brushing against the cool paper as you grabbed a folded chit. Your heart skipped a beat as you unfolded it and saw the name:

James Potter.

Your eyes instinctively darted toward him. James was mid-laugh, probably at some ridiculous quip Sirius had made, and there was a mischievous sparkle in his hazel eyes. You quickly looked away before anyone could notice the heat rising to your cheeks.

Of all the names you could’ve drawn, it had to be James.

From the moment names were drawn, the common room became a hotbed of shenanigans.

“Oi, love,” James said casually the next evening as you sat near the fire, working on your Potions essay. “You can just tell me who you’ve got, you know. Save yourself the stress.”

You didn’t even look up from your parchment. “Nice try, Potter. Not happening.”

He leaned back in his chair, clutching his chest dramatically. “You wound me! After everything we’ve been through?”

“I’m doing you a favour,” you said with a smirk, finally glancing up. “Imagine the disappointment if I told you someone else got you and not your precious Evans.”

His grin widened, and there was a playful glint in his eyes. “Who says I want Evans?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’ve only been after her for, what, three years?”

James shrugged, leaning forward on his elbows. “Maybe I’ve had a change of heart. Maybe there’s someone else who’s caught my eye.”

Your cheeks burned, and you quickly ducked your head to pretend you were reading your essay. “Well, whoever they are, I’m sure they pity you.”

He threw his head back with a laugh, and your stomach did an annoying little flip. Merlin, he was impossible.

The chaos only deepened as Christmas approached. James became increasingly annoying in his quest to figure out his Secret Santa, trying to weasel answers out of everyone.

“Wormtail, it’s you, isn’t it?”

“What? No!” Peter said, flustered, clutching his Charms textbook.

“It’s Moony, then,” James decided, turning to Remus.

“I’m not saying anything,” Remus said calmly, flipping a page in his book. “But if you keep pestering me, I’ll make sure whoever has you gets you socks.”

“Traitors, all of you,” James declared, throwing himself onto the couch in defeat.

“I heard Sirius in Honeydukes the other day asking the shopkeeper if they could make a giant chocolate wolf. Like, life-sized.” Marlene whispered, her eyes wide with glee.

You clamped a hand over your mouth to stifle your laugh. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I were,” Marlene said, grinning. “The poor clerk looked like they didn’t know whether to laugh or run.”

“Are you two gossiping about me?” Sirius asked, turning to narrow his eyes at you and Marlene.

“Always,” Marlene quipped, not missing a beat.

Sirius looked pleased. “As you should.”

You spent hours agonising over James’ gift. He was impossible to shop for—he had everything he needed, and he didn’t seem the type to care much about material things. But you wanted it to be special, something that would show you’d noticed the little things about him.

Finally, inspiration struck.

You bought him a small, leather-bound notebook, the kind with a soft cover and faint golden stars embossed on the front. James was always scribbling something—Quidditch plays, spell ideas, random doodles. It seemed like the perfect fit.

Inside the front cover, you wrote:

For all your brilliant (and slightly ridiculous) ideas. - ♡

You also found a tiny enchanted Snitch pin at a shop in Hogsmeade. It was gold and delicate, and its tiny wings occasionally fluttered when touched. You figured it was subtle enough to wear but still a nod to his love for Quidditch.

The common room glowed with the warmth of fairy lights strung around the tree, and the group had gathered again, this time with a pile of wrapped gifts beneath the branches. Sirius had, naturally, donned a Santa hat and was gleefully handing out presents.

When it was James’ turn, he tore into the wrapping paper with childlike enthusiasm, his grin widening as he pulled out the notebook and pin.

“This is…” He trailed off, turning the notebook over in his hands. His hazel eyes softened as he read the note inside, and a small, genuine smile played on his lips. “This is brilliant.”

He held up the pin, letting it catch the light, and glanced around the room. “Whoever got me this, you’ve officially got better taste than Sirius.”

“Oi!” Sirius protested, though he was laughing.

James’ gaze flickered to you for a brief moment, and your heart stuttered. Did he know? The way his smile lingered made you wonder, but you quickly looked away, your cheeks warm.

For now, you were content with the way his smile lit up the room.

[my-castles-crumbling]

ask - jegulus - @into-the-jeggyverse - word count: 620

“So. Who’re you all going to ask to the Ball?”

Regulus stared around the large group as Sirius’s question sank in. It had been strange that the two very opposite bunches of friends had collided, but what with Pandora and Lily, and Dorcas and Marlene both being couples, it had been a natural thing.

“I mean, it’s pretty obvious for most of us,” Dorcas replied, wrapping her arms around Marlene and grinning.

“Yes, I’m asking Pete,” Remus replied, grinning at Sirius’s affronted expression.

But it was James’s response that had Regulus’s stomach lurching. “I’m asking Regulus,” he said casually, ignoring the shocked looks from everyone, most of all Regulus.

-

It became a Thing. Every time the Ball was brought up, James mentioned that he was going to ask him. It was ‘Yes, when I ask Regulus…’ or ‘After Regulus agrees to go with me…’ or ‘Regulus and I…’ It was driving Regulus absolutely insane, because he knew that James was joking. He could tell from the twinkling in his eyes, the mischief in his smile.

But to Regulus, it hurt. Because Merlin, he wanted it to be real. And the fact that he wanted that was mortifying.

Every time James brought it up, it was like a stab to the ribs. A kick to the gut. He tried to smile and laugh with the rest, but he wanted to cry, which was the scariest feeling he’d ever felt in his life. He hated feeling anything, and sadness? Longing? No, it was terrifying.

-

One day, he snapped.

“So, I’ll pick up Reg at…maybe seven?” James was saying to Remus, who nodded along. “And then we’ll-”

“Stop!”

All eyes turned to him.

“Stop, James,” he mumbled, steeling himself to avoid the tears. “I know you’re not actually going to ask me, and it’s not funny anymore. I know the idea of someone fancying me is a joke to you, but you’re being a prick!”

And with that, he fled.

He assumed, of course, that the footsteps of the person following him belonged to Barty. But the hand that grabbed his shoulder was wider. Warmer.

“Regulus, please-”

“It’s fine, James,” he mumbled, still walking, trying to shake him off.

“Please listen.”

Annoyed, he turned. “What?” he demanded, gritting his teeth and giving James a death glare. “What do you want?”

The older boy looked as distraught as Regulus felt. “I want you to go to the Ball with me,” he answered softly. Regulus scoffed and began to turn but James continued. “No, really! I thought–I thought joking about it would like… get you used to the idea?” he smiled and shrugged self-consciously. “The idea that I fancy you, you know? That way, when I asked, you wouldn’t just…rip me to shreds on the spot.”

Regulus gaped. Could this really be genuine? His heart was hammering in his chest so loudly he could hardly hear James’s word.

“I get if you’re mad, it was kind of a shit move,” James said with another half-smile. “But..please don’t think I’d ever joke about you being…fanciable. Especially when I…Godric, I can’t even describe how much I fancy you,” he admitted, face turning pink.

Regulus swallowed, still shocked. “Well,” he breathed, trying not to shake, “unfortunately, the feeling is mutual,” he admitted with a frown.

It took James a moment to understand what he meant, and then he broke into a huge grin. “Y-yeah? So you’ll go with me to the Ball?”

But now, he’d regained some of his footing. “I never said that,” he replied lightly, smirking at the older boy. “You’ll have to see when I ask you.”

It was satisfying, he had to admit. Walking away and leaving a shocked, dazed-looking James Potter behind.

[777heavengirl]

Bless the Telephone ; ##04

James Potter x f!muggle!reader

word count: 1,163

warnings: none?

a/n: HELLO IM ALIVE- ummm did break up with my boyfriend, after spiraling for a week i am feeling much better! I did what was right for me and i am happier for it!! JAMES OR SIRIUS WOULD HAVE NEVER TREAT ME LIKE THAT! so yea I'm back :D thank you for putting up with my disappearances i should be uploading SEMI regularly just bc classes r in full throttle now

series masterlist

main masterlist

It hadn't been as difficult as you thought. Getting rid of Josh was a pending item on your to-do list for months. But for some reason or another, you never could, not completely. More often than not, he’d find some weak spot in your resolve, and crawl back in like a cockroach. 

But not this time, at least not yet. After that day, when James’s call saved you from a bit of an uncomfortable situation, you managed to easily avoid his calls, if he knocked at the door Charlotte and you stayed unbearably still until he went away. He left voicemail after voicemail, called Charlotte’s phone with a bit more anger, and called your phone with crocodile tears. 

But you weren't sweating it. You had fallen into an easy pattern with James, he’d fill the time that you would've been itching to fill and end up calling Josh out of boredom. 

James was a good friend! At least that's what you’d tell Charlotte. She’d look at you with a glint in her eye and a smirk on her lips that you ignored. If only she was so keen and observant with women that she liked, she tended to lack awareness often. 

You didn’t dare tell her about the playful jabs, the comments you didn't dare label fully as flirty, or god forbid the butterflies that fluttered at the pit of your stomach every time he called, laughed, or gave you some stupid cloying nickname. 

“Come on pretty- just tell me” You could hear the pout in his voice

You groaned in defeat, “Okay okay- if I had to be any creature…” You thought about it for a second more “Potter this is stupid”

“Indulge me”

You sighed “Fine, I think I would be… a witch”

“That's not a creature love”

“Well they are to me”

“I know a few that would be greatly offended by that comment” he retorted

“Oh yeah? You’re friends with witches?” you mirrored the smirk you heard in his voice

“Quite a few actually, nasty women the lot of them…” James smiled, thinking of his friends. How Marlene would probably flick the side of his head, and Lily would wholeheartedly just roll her eyes. Dorcas would definitely send a book flying straight to his head if she heard, not that she hadn't done that often enough during their time at school. It was always deserved. “love them nevertheless though- Pick something else, witches are human”

You hmph in disagreement and thought about it momentarily

“I don't think it would be very pleasant to be a werewolf you know? A bit inconvenient-” you thought out loud

“You don’t know the half of it,” he said under his breath

“Vampires sound kind of cool… wouldn't be able to go out into the sun though so that's quite a shame” James hummed in agreement “Maybe a mermaid, they’re pretty right?”

“Allegedly, they’re more scary than anything else- foul foul creatures” The ones in the Black Lake had messed with him more than once. 

“Oh, what do you know Potter?”

“Quite a lot thank you- more than you anyway”

“And why do you think that? Mermaids aren't scary dummy”

“You say that because you haven't seen one pretty” James’s mouth was faster than his thoughts, he prayed you’d just laugh it off.

“Oh, and I suppose you have?” He slapped himself on the forehead as he thought of some excuse. The witches' comment he was able to get away with, maybe his tone had been too matter-o-fact.

“Well, yes I have!” he said, confidently, ironically. You started laughing, his worry melted away. Would you even believe him if he told you?

“Is that so? Well okay, what creature would you be Potter?”

“A hippogriff I think”

“What the hell is that?” James burst out in laughter

-

You could feel Charlotte’s eyes on you as you scooped ice cream into your lips. You focused on the cold chocolatey flavor and whatever movie she had found. You didn’t know what you were watching, you thought of James.

James and his stupid laugh, and the way he always called you pretty or doll or some other completely repulsive nickname you wanted to hate. But you couldn't. He was sweet, and he always asked how you were, after he found out about your roommate’s existence, he asked about her too. 

“y/n”

“yes charlotte?”

“What does he look like? is he cute? Is he tall? I reckon that’s an important one with men is it not” you groaned as she launched question after question

“Char, I already told you I don't know anything about him”

“But you talk all day, every day” She scoffed

“It’s not every day- nor is it all day I have things to do you know”

“It is though, every bloody day, you come in and launch yourself at the telephone like clockwork” You stared at your pint of ice cream, suppressing the small laugh that threatened to leave your lips. 

You felt a tad silly.

“It’s just-” You started to say, Charlotte leaned in with an excited smile on her lips as if egging you on. “It feels stupid, I could be getting totally scammed right now- sure he sounds young, and sure he said he’s twenty- but he could be anyone, anywhere” 

“Let’s think about it though- you guys talk a lot he has to be in England no? Calls out are so expensive” She grabbed the pint of ice cream from your hands, shoving a spoonful into her mouth. 

“That doesn’t change anything Char, I don't know him” She waved the spoon around dismissively. For someone who was so cynical about her own love life, Charlotte was always ready to be invested in yours. You never minded though, you were happy to bond over the raging disaster that it seemed to be.

“You guys have never thought about meeting up? You haven’t even talked about it?” You shifted uncomfortably as she wiggled her eyebrows “Have you even asked him what he looks like?” You took the ice cream tub back, shoving ice cream into your mouth

“We’re missing the movie y’know?” She scoffed at your weak attempt to change the subject

“As if I care about that- come on, you’re rolling in laughter every time you’re on that damn phone so there is clearly some chemistry there”

“So what I also have chemistry with circus clowns?” You said, turning to give her a deadpan stare. 

“You know what I mean” She took the ice cream back

“What if I meet up with him and he kidnaps me…” she offered you the last few scrapes left in the tub. When you shook your head she ate it gingerly, a small smile on her face. “Suddenly I’m in the arctic tundra being trafficked”

“As long as it's not with Josh,” she shrugged her shoulders “I reckon anything is better,” she said, snorting 

“You’re terrible” You both fell into laughter

tags ; @ilovejamespottersomuch @ravisinghs-wife @hidontmindtheintrovert @stella-thestars @caspiankingofnarnia @lovelyteenagebeard @starkluvrr @hisparentsgallerryy @leilani13gc @katsusayhi @auroresce @lovemiss-vale @alessiaparigim @unconventional-lawnchair @moonydoodlez @eissaaaa @ailoda @nahhhwhatthefrick @notapoetjustscar @hiireadstuff @the-rat-king1902 @n1ght-vngel @littlewhitel1es @rreporterbby

permanent tag ; @laufeysvalentine @heyyyloverr

PLEASE PLEASE LMK IF I MISSED YOU I HAVE BEEN GONE FOR WEEKS AND I DID MY BEST TO COLLECT EVERYONE AHHHH thank you for reading <3

[marauder-misprint]

Hello, I started reading Harry Potter again and while I was reading The Goblet Of The Fire, something like this came to my mind; Can we read the Christmas ball in the three wizard tournaments during the marauders period? who will invite who as a partner? I would be extra happy if something happens between fem!slytherin reader and Sirius. Maybe she's platonic or she's sure no one from Gryfindor will invite him because they have a secret relationship

.Thank you so much in advance, I love your stories.I hope you will write more, love

Hi! Thank you for the request ❤︎❤︎❤︎ we love a secret relationship, especially between Sirius and Slythering!reader - 10/10, will likely write again

Hope you enjoy!

Going public

Sirius Black x Slytherin!reader

7.1k words

cw: angst, fluff

The announcements for the Yule Ball were posted overnight. Every bulletin board was plastered with them; it was like there was nothing else of importance happening at Hogwarts. It was the talk of the school by the time you reached breakfast. It seemed like the students agreed with the bulletin boards: there was nothing more important. 

Passing the other tables on your way to your usual spot at the Slytherin table, you heard speculation about who the more popular people would be going with. The Prewett twins were a hot topic, as were the Marauders, Gilderoy Lockhart, Anthony Avery, Emmeline Vance, Stubby Boardman and Amelia Bones. 

You were able to tune most of it out. While gossip could be amusing, it wasn’t something you really sought out. 

“I’ll bet you a galleon Potter goes with Evans. He’s obsessed with her,” you heard a Hufflepuff say as you passed by.

Her friend laughed, “Oh, double it! He’ll ask, for sure, but there’s no way in hell that she’s saying yes!”

You stifled a laugh, knowing the second girl was correct. You were more than certain that James would indeed ask Lily to the dance, multiple times most likely, and Lily, having turned down James over and over again, would continue her ‘no’ streak. From what you were aware of, she was nowhere near breaking her resolve. 

“Morning,” Dorcas said as you sat down next to her. “Would you like to talk about the dance, the dance or, real strange this one, the dance?”

You rolled your eyes, reaching for your usual breakfast. Your silence is typical, especially in the morning before you’ve been given proper time to wake up. The girls made conversation around you. 

“Do you think it has to be guys ask girls? Or could I ask someone?” Pandora asked dreamily. She shot a glance over her shoulder toward a certain Ravenclaw. 

“I don’t think there’re rules for a dance. Although if Xeno doesn’t ask you, he’ll have bigger problems coming for him,” Emma Vanity assured her. 

You all knew about Pandora and Xenophilius’ flirtationship. You thought it was ridiculous for her to even consider that Xeno wouldn’t ask her, given the way he searches for her in between classes. 

“But if he doesn’t ask me? How weird would it be if I asked him?”

“Have you ever cared about looking weird?” Dorcas replied.

“Normally, no. But this is the kind of thing that would get back to Mum and Dad. It’s one thing to be concerned about the nargle population, it’s another to break societal norms.” 

“Ah, the nargle population! A real concern for wizard-kind!” Emma laughed.

You shook your head with a smirk. While the three of you often teased some of Pandora’s beliefs, you really loved her and her ways. You also knew it was part of why Xeno liked her. He shared quite a few of her beliefs and he entertained her tendencies to experiment with spells. 

“Anyways, I’m more concerned about what I’m going to wear rather than who’s going to ask me,” Dorcas said. “There’s Gladrags in Hogsmeade, but it’s going to be packed with every girl here. It honestly might be better to order from somewhere else.”

“But then you risk not liking it in person. And there’s not really enough time to return and reorder,” Emma pointed out.

“Ah, that’s why you order more than one dress from the jump. You’re bound to like one of the dresses you order.”

“Or you could just wear one of the dresses you already own?” you offered. 

Pandora and Emma fell into fits of laughter while Dorcas gave you a pitying smile.

“Love, we aren’t going to turn down an opportunity to get a new dress,” Dorcas said. 

You turned back to your breakfast. Part of you wanted to retort that it would be a waste of money to get a dress that you’d wear once, especially knowing they each had several extravagant dresses in their wardrobes. Then you remembered that they each came from far more prominent families than yours. They had money, status and endless ball invites outside of the castle walls. It was something you didn’t relate to. 

So you fell back into your silence. The girls continued with their discussion about the ball. They talked about who Dorcas and Emma hoped would ask them and their dream dresses. The boys on your other side weren’t discussing the dance as far as you could tell. 

“An erumpent would kill you faster than a skrewt,” Avery insisted. 

“You wish that were the case,” Wilkes said. 

“No, no, technically Avery’s right,” Barty said, waving his fork around. “Erumpent, once it decides to attack, will kill you fast, but blast-ended skrewts are vicious and it’ll be a painful death.” 

“What’re you saying, Junior?” Wilkes asked, turning to face the younger boy.

“That it’d be about the same time total, if the clock starts when you encounter the beast.” 

Death by various beasts was certainly… something to talk about over breakfast. You stared down at your plate. Neither conversation intrigued you. 

Then the hair on your neck stood up.

“Who do you think’ll ask Y/N YL/N? Surely another Slytherin, right?” a voice from behind you asked. 

Your eyes widened as you continued to stare at the food on your plate. Of all the people to be discussed, you didn’t think your name would come up. You assume it’s just out of your association with the other Slytherin girls. As likeable as you tried to be, your friends were higher on the popularity ladder. You tried to listen for the voice that said your name or perhaps whoever she was talking to, but you can’t single out that conversation. 

You had an inkling about who might ask you. Sirius Black. You didn’t share this with anyone around you though. They didn’t know you were anything more than polite to him, as you were to just about anyone. They didn’t know about the secret moments you had with him in empty classrooms, hidden corridors, the Astronomy Tower and the Room of Requirement. They didn’t know you and him were dating. Neither did his friends. 

When you and the rest of the girls got up to head to class, you looked towards the Gryffindor table and waved when you made eye contact with Sirius. He waved back. There were enough people still sitting at the four tables and enough leaving that the two of you would risk it. 

“Who’re you waving to?” Pandora asked, looking in the direction you waved. She couldn’t spot anyone you were particularly friendly towards. 

You rolled your eyes with a smile tugging at your lips.

“Can’t a girl have friends outside Slytherin?” 

“Well, yes, but-” Pandora started to say.

“Not nameless friends,” Emma finished for her.

“Nameless friends?” Wilkes asked, pushing his way in between Dorcas and Emma. “Shame their parents never named ‘em.”

“But you have to call them something. How else would they be enrolled here? They’d have to call you something at sorting,” Mulciber said.

“Maybe ‘Hey you’ sufficed?” Evan suggested. He slung his arm over your shoulder. 

“Right,” you drawled sarcastically. “‘Hey you’ is written on their birth certificate.” 

“There are worse things to be called,” Pandora said. 

---

As predicted, James did ask Lily a few days after the ball was announced. She shut him down very quickly. From the gossip you picked up, it sounded like some other guys were planning on shooting their shot with her. You weren’t surprised. She was beautiful and brilliant. 

With nothing more interesting to hold your attention, you ended up listening to more gossip, the who’s going with who. It had only been a few days but girls were getting asked left and right. Muliber was going Emma. Xeno was working you and Dorcas on his plan to ask Pandora. Remus asked Emmeline, which shocked some people. Peter asked Mary. 

You kept your ears open for mentions of Sirius. It didn’t sound like there were any rumors of him asking anyone, although some girls were debating what Pandora had suggested earlier, asking him themselves. Their reasoning was solid, in your opinion. It was Sirius Black! There was no way that he’d go to a dance alone when he could have pretty much any girl he wanted on his arm. 

And that’s what bugged you. So many girls liked him and none of them knew that he was off the market. When you made it official, he stopped flirting, but that didn’t stop him from being his charming self. Some things you can’t change. And some girls don’t know the difference between flirting and simply being kind and charming. 

You knew that there were reasons why you were keeping it a secret. Your friends and housemates would never let you hear the end of it if they knew, plus you risked being shut out by everyone in your house. While dating a Gryffindor in general wasn’t smiled upon, Sirius would be a sin. He was labeled as Blood Traitor #1. 

His friends didn’t know you. They wouldn’t approve and wouldn’t take the time to get to know you. Sirius knew that they would see you as a Slytherin who was no good, just like the rest of his family. They wouldn’t believe that you stood up for younger students against older ones, that you helped people find their way when the stairs changed on them, that you had a certain spark in you that set you apart. 

You both risked ostracization so you kept your relationship quiet. You told each other it was for the time being. You told each other that when it felt right, you’d break the news to your respective friend groups. You knew that as soon as he could tell his friends, you could tell yours. If his accepted you, it didn’t matter if yours resented you; whereas if yours accepted him, it would still matter to him what his friends thought. It was just the reality of it. 

You considered talking to Sirius about the ball the next time you met up. Maybe this would be the time. You could spend the evening with his friends, convince them that you weren’t so bad. 

You let the thought linger in your mind as you waited for Professor McGonagall to dismiss the class. She finished her lecture a few minutes ago and told the class to practice turning cutlery into different apparatuses. Few students actually listened to her. Most were idly chatting. 

“I think Sirius is going to ask McKinnon to the dance,” a voice nearby said. 

Your breath hitched. What? There was no way he would ask her. You trained your eyes on your notes, hoping the girl would continue her thoughts.

“Oh, they would be so cute together! Shame though, I know Shannon was hoping that he’d ask her.”

“Has he ever talked to Shan?” 

“No but a girl can dream, can’t she?”

“I s’pose. But be real! Marlene and Sirius are always with each other. They got chemistry on another level.”

You swallowed thickly at the girls’ comments. It was the first time that you heard anything substantial about Sirius. They had a name and reason to think so. You have never thought about Marlene being interested in Sirius. From what you knew, you had no reason to be worried about her. At least, you didn’t. 

Their comment settled in your stomach and festered. You felt small for the rest of your lessons. You drummed your fingers against your thigh in every class, trying to pay attention but ultimately failing. Your eyes drifted to Sirius or Marlene in each lesson. You hated how much it bugged you, how much you were letting it get to you. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to look toward the Gryffindor table during dinner. If Marlene was sitting within two people of Sirius, you’re positive that you would’ve thrown up. You tried to keep reminding yourself that Sirius liked you. That he was going out with you. That if he was going to take anyone to the dance, he’d be taking you. 

But Marlene was better. She would be someone that Sirius wouldn’t have to hide from his friends. He wouldn’t have to worry if they would approve, she was already one of them. She had nothing to prove. You? You have everything to prove. 

You kept your head down throughout the whole meal. The ball had made its way into the boys’ conversation so even their usual demented topics couldn’t save you. They were teasing each other, those who had dates for being saps and those who didn’t for being cowards. 

“There’s no one I’d want to go with,” Severus said monotonously, keeping his head low.

“Because that mudblood isn’t talking to you anymore,” Avery responded. 

Lily had stopped talking to Severus at the end of last year. It didn’t go unnoticed that he had tried to apologize and win her back, ultimately failing. The boys didn’t let him forget his softness for the girl, especially given her blood status. 

The girls had moved more deeply into their considerations for what to wear. They talked silhouettes, necklines, sleeves, colors, jewelry, shoes and every other accessory. It was every single detail of outfits they had yet to purchase. You assumed that you could just figure it all out when you inevitably went to Gladrags one weekend. 

You didn’t last long at the table. Your mind was set on your meeting with Sirius. You exited the Great Hall by yourself and took a deep breath as soon as you were outside the stifling warmth. You barely made it to the first flight of stairs when you heard your name being called. 

You turned around. “Rosier?” 

He jogged to catch up to you. 

“You’ve been pretty quiet lately,” he said once standing next to you.

You cocked an eyebrow at him and crossed your arms.

“Define lately.” 

He smiled at you. “Well, always. But especially when the dance comes up.”

“Nothing to add, I guess.”

“Why’s that? Seems like every girl has an opinion.”

You shrugged. “Not even sure if I’m going.”

“Again, why’s that?” 

“Not expecting anyone to ask me,” you said slowly, almost regretting it so you kept talking. “And, I mean, it’s no secret that Emma, Dorcas and your families are more… well off than mine. Balls aren’t… something I’m used to.”

Evan opened his mouth to respond but he was cut off.

“There you are, Mr. Rosier!” Professor Slughorn’s voice boomed. “Come on, boy. We need to discuss your career potential!” 

“Shit,” he grumbled. “I’ll find you later, yeah?” 

You gave him a soft, almost-pitying smile as he turned toward Slughorn. You watched him walk away with the short professor before continuing on your way to the seventh floor. You were grateful for Slughorn in that moment. You assumed that Evan was building up to asking you. Thankfully, he never got the question out and now you would be able to talk to Sirius first. You needed to figure out what was going on with you two and the ball. 

You climbed staircase after staircase. Thoughts of Evan’s unasked question and the rumors of Sirius possibly asking Marlene bounced around in your mind. You yearned for the privacy of the Room of Requirement. You couldn’t wait for Sirius to meet you there. You leaned against the wall and let yourself sink to the ground. You knew it would be a while before he showed up; you had left dinner a bit early and he couldn’t just leave his friends with no reason and avoid being questioned in depth later. The coldness of the stone floor was more than welcomed as you waited. 

You perked up the moment you heard his distinctive footsteps approaching. You jumped up, waiting for the door to appear. You slipped inside, Sirius following only moments after. 

He pulled you into a tight hug before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Merlin, I missed you,” he mumbled against your hair.

“I see you in class all day,” you replied with faux-snark.

“Yeah, where the most I can do is wink at you,” he said as his hands rubbed your back.

You melted into his arms. His cologne filled your brain with every inhale. It was enough to make your thoughts go fuzzy. Momentarily, you forgot about Evan, Marlene, the ball and all the gossip that accompanied it. But as soon as he lets you go and takes a step toward the couch and fireplace, they come flooding back. You blame their return on how prominent the ball was in everyone’s conversation. And if you thought on it, you knew that if Sirius was truly asking Marlene, it would be okay for you to go with Evan. 

“Darling, you joining me?” Sirius asked from the couch with his arms held out, ready to hold you close again. 

You nodded and wordlessly moved to join him. He held you close and nestled his face into the crook of your neck. It was comfortable. It was nice. It was everything you needed after days of listening to gossip. He could’ve been seeking out any other girl, but he was here, hiding in the Room of Requirement because he missed you. 

“Long day?” he whispered.

He could feel how tense you were. With every passing second, you relaxed deeper into his arms, but he knew something was eating at your mind. You sighed. 

“Long week.”

He hummed. “Want to talk about it?” 

“Just the ball, Sirius. ‘S all.” 

“That’s all, huh?” 

“Mhmm. The girls refuse to talk about anything else.”

“Any of them got dates?”

“You know Lovegood, from Ravenclaw?” 

He hummed again. 

“Well, he’s asking Dora tomorrow. He’s got a whole thing planned. Vanity and Mulciber are going together. I’m sure Dorcas will get asked any day now.”

“And you?” he asked with a playful tone.

You lightly elbowed his side. 

“I did want to talk to you about that,” Sirius said, sounding more sincere. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to move. You knew you should adjust how you were sitting in his arms so that you could see his face. But you couldn’t. All your muscles felt too tight and air wasn’t properly filling your lungs. You didn’t expect to feel this way. You knew he wasn’t ready to show you off to his friends, and ultimately the whole school, but it still hurt to imagine him dancing with someone else. 

“I… I know you’re planning on asking Marlene,” you manage to say, earning a shocked cough from Sirius. “It… It’s okay. I think that Evan Rosier wants to ask me. I mean, it won’t be the same as going with you, but he’s a friend. It’ll be a… tolerable evening.” 

“Love, what?” Sirius asked, confusing lacing his words as he sat up and turned your body so he could see your face. “Who? What? Marlene? No.” 

Your voice got stuck in your throat. Your mouth moved with no sound. It was the perfect visual of confusion. 

“Rosier? You’re going to go with Rosier?” he asked, his voice quiet with disbelief.

“He… he hasn’t asked yet. And if you’re going with McKinnon…” Talking felt so difficult. 

“No. I’m not asking McKinnon. Where did you hear that?” He immediately held up his hand as you opened your mouth to speak. “Actually, that doesn’t matter. It’s not true. James. James is the one who’s going to ask her.”

“James?” 

Sirius laughed. It was a warm sound that made your heart do flips. 

“James is going to ask Marlene since they both can’t go with who they really want to go with.”

You took a moment to compose yourself. Obviously, James wanted to go with Lily. 

“Who does Marlene want to go with?” 

“It’s not my place to tell, love. It is my place to tell you that I’d like to go with you.”

You pressed your lips together before pulling one between your teeth.

“But your friends…?” 

He leaned forward to press a kiss to your forehead.

“My friends have figured out that I’m seeing someone. Apparently, I disappear too often-” with the Marauders’ Map “-with consistently horrible excuses,” he told you. 

Even when you met up in the Room of Requirement which doesn’t show up on the map, Sirius made sure to take it with him. He hadn’t been ready to tell them about you. Part of him still didn’t want to. That part liked having you solely to himself. It liked sneaking around and the thrill of having a secret. But the rest of him knew it wasn’t sustainable. 

Sirius watched your face for a hint of how you were feeling, and your face said you were unconvinced. 

“They know when I’m lying… and…” Sirius’ face flushed. “They said I’ve had a lovesick look on my face far too often for there not to be a girl.” 

He knew that that would convince you. A grin took over your face.

“A lovesick look?” you repeated teasingly. “You’ve had a lovesick look on your face?”

“When I come back from being with you. And whenever I think about you. Especially when I think about kissing you-” He pressed a kiss to your nose. “-and how beautiful you are-” A kiss to your forehead. “-and how funny-” A kiss to your cheek. “-and how brilliant-” A kiss to your jaw. “-and kind-” A kiss to your neck. “-and perfect.” He continued peppering kisses down your neck and onto your collarbone. 

You threw your head back with giggles spilling out of your mouth. The jealousy you felt about the idea of Sirius with Marlene dissolved into nothingness. You placed your hands on the sides of Sirius’ face to hold him away from you for a moment. 

“If Rosier gets around to asking me, I’ll tell him I already have a date,” you said before connecting your lips to Sirius’. 

“Good,” he mumbled through the kiss. 

---

“Padfoot!” James yelled as soon as Sirius returned to the Gryffindor Common Room later that evening. “Where the hell have you been?” 

Sirius couldn’t wipe the pleased smirk off of his face. He strode over to the couches by the fire and collapsed unceremoniously next to James. 

“Asking my girl to the ball.”

Both Lily and Remus sat up from their respective chairs nearby at that. Remus leaned toward the couches as much as he could without getting up.

“So you’ll tell us who it is then?”

“He has a girl? Like a committed relationship?” Lily gasped. 

“Oh, Evans, you’re here. Erm, yeah. I do. And you’ll figure out who it is when I walk into the dance with the hottest date.” 

Remus slouched back into his chair at that. Ever since they got him to confess that he had been going to see a girl, singular, the same one each time, the three boys had been dogging him about it. They searched for any hint, any clue, an inkling of an idea as to who you were. They had… nothing. Well, nothing besides that you weren’t a Gryffindor. They were fairly certain that Sirius wouldn’t be so secretive about you if you were a Gryffindor. 

“Seriously making us wait until Christmas to know who you’ve been sneaking around with?” James groaned. 

Sirius nodded. “I am Sirius, after all. Got to live up to the name.” 

Peter threw a crumpled piece of parchment at Sirius.

“Black, how is this the first I’m hearing of this?” Lily asked as she turned her full body to be facing the couches. “How long have you been in a committed relationship?”

“Oh, don’t feel bad, Lily,” Peter said from the armchair. “We only found out like a week or so ago.”

“Black?” she repeated.

He ran a hand through his hair before looking at Lily. 

“Made it official at the start of term.”

Lily gasped, grabbed her own bit of parchment to crumple and toss at Sirius.

“Oi! I am not a rubbish bin!”

“You are too when you’ve been seeing someone since September!”

“It gets worse the longer you think about it,” Remus pointed out. “They made it official in September. Meaning they were flirting and whatever for some time before.”

“Merlin… And you lot have no clue who it is?” 

“Nope,” Sirius answered for them, looking satisfied with himself. 

“Why not?” Lily pressed. She looked like she was about to move her chair closer to the couch so she could properly interrogate Sirius about his girlfriend. 

“Yeah, why not? You’ve never given a good answer,” James said, sitting up a bit. 

The four of them had their eyes glued to Sirius, watching his every move as he tried to think of something that wouldn’t give too much away. 

“It… would… ruffle some feathers. It will ruffle some feathers. But, we figured the ball is a good time to go public. So you’ll wait until then.” 

Lily narrowed her eyes at Sirius. The gears in her head were spinning. She put away the homework she had been working on. There was no way she could focus now, not with this mystery brought to her attention. There was a girl in the school with Sirius all to herself. This girl got Sirius to mature enough to commit. Lily needed to know who it was. 

---

You listened with more intent the next time that Emma, Dorcas and Pandora brought up the dance. Xeno asked Pandora and she obviously said yes. Dorcas was asked by Bertram Aubrey, not her first choice but a respectable one as Pandora and Emma assured her. You hadn’t gotten around to mentioning that you had a date to the girls. It wasn’t like they asked you either. 

You started asking their opinions on what color would look best, which silhouette fits your body shape, how to accessorize. It was a slight sprinkling of questions. Their excited answers told you that they were happy you were finally taking an interest in the ball.

“Honestly, I wasn’t sure if you were even going to go,” Emma told you. “You seemed pretty against it for a while.”

“I mean, I was debating not going. Wasn’t sure if it was my type of event.”

“What changed your mind?” 

“Oh, did Evan finally ask you?” Pandora asked, joining the conversation. 

You looked at her with wide eyes and shook your head. “Erm, no. Guess he never got ‘round to it…” You pause to take a steadying breath. “Would you mind telling him that I already have a date?” 

“I’m not lying to him. If you’re not interested, you have to tell him!” Pandora said defensively. 

“No, I really already have a date,” you said, hoping that you sounded genuine. 

Which you were. You just needed the girls to know what you were without saying that Sirius was your date. He had told you that he wouldn’t tell his friends until the ball and if you told your friends, word would spread fast. 

“Who? You’ve never mentioned…” Emma asked, twisting her features in confusion. 

“It’s… a surprise. I promise I have a real date. He’s very real. Just… not a Slytherin.”

“No. Come on, out with it,” Pandora said, placing her hands on her hips. “Ev is a perfectly fine bloke. You can handle an evening with him.”

“I totally agree with you, Dora. But I already have a date and I plan on attending the ball with him.” 

You looked between the two girls. You weren’t lying, so why did they seem so insistent on believing that you were? You didn’t have anything against him. You knew that they knew that. You just didn’t want to have the awkward conversation of telling him you were already going with someone if Pandora, or Emma really, could’ve passed on the message for you. 

Then Dorcas appeared at your side and you instantly gave her a pleading look.

“Dorcas! Would you tell Evan not to ask me to the ball?” you asked.

“Why would I do that? Don’t you want a date? We all have dates.” 

You threw your head back with a groan.

“I already have a date. These two don’t believe me and I really, really don’t want to be the one who has to tell Evan.”

“Tell me what?” a male voice said from behind you.

“Ev!” Pandora exclaimed. “Man of the hour! She has something to tell you.”

“Let’s go, give ‘em some privacy,” Emma said, grabbing Pandora and Dorcas’ arms. 

“No!” you practically cried as they disappeared around the corner of the corridor, leaving you alone with Evan. You groaned. 

“Damn, am I that horrible to be around?” he asked nervously.

“No, you’re not,” you said, feeling horrible already. “That’s the problem. You’re really a fine bloke.”

“Oh,” he said, his voice dropping. “I think I know where this is going… It’s not you, it’s me.” He laughed dryly. “I didn’t even have to ask.”

“Evan… It’s just that I’ve already been asked.”

“But, just the other day… When Slughorn pulled me away… You said…”

“I didn’t think he would ask.”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “Didn’t you know that I was going to ask you? Why’d you say yes to someone else if you knew I was about to ask you if fucking Slughorn-?”

You hated the feeling in your chest. It was horrible. You had to explain to him that it was more than just someone else asking. 

“I’ve been seeing someone. In private. I wasn’t sure if we were going to go and… well, we’ve decided to go.” 

“Oh,” he said, suddenly more curious than feeling bad for himself. “So private that even Dora doesn’t know?”

“No one knows. And, I’d like to keep it that way.” 

Evan studied your face. He sighed and let his expression drop to a blank canvas. Then he walked away. You weren’t sure how to feel about it. You wished he had said something before walking away, instead of just leaving your request sit in the air. You stood there for a moment before deciding to go to the library. You figured no one would bug you there and you could just think about how you were going to navigate everything once you showed up to the ball on Sirius’ arm. 

---

Despite the near incessant pestering from your respective friend groups, neither you nor Sirius broke down. The main difference between your friend groups was that the Gryffindors fully believed that you existed. They were certain that there was a girl that Sirius kept sneaking off to spend time with. Your friends didn’t believe Sirius existed. Surely, they would’ve noticed not only sneaking off but the emotional changes from you. To avoid making them see that they might be bad friends, you repeatedly told them that you’re just that good of an actress. What’s the point of a secret relationship if everyone knows about it? 

The girls had helped you pick out a lovely black dress that made you look divine. They offered you some of their accessories when you put your foot down at spending a fortune on a matching set of diamond earrings and necklace. It was safe to say that you looked goddamn amazing as you twirled in front of the mirror in your dorm.

Emma, Dorcas and Pandora showered you in compliments and slight jabs at keeping your date a mystery.

“We’re going to see who it is in just a few minutes. Why can’t you tell us?” Pandora asked as she slid another hairpin in place. 

“It’s the principle of it,” you reminded her. “Are we ready?” 

You led the girls out of your dorm and into the common room, where Emma and Dorcas’ dates were waiting for them. You smiled at Evan and his date, a younger Slytherin who beamed up at him. Looking around the dimly lit room, it appeared that many Slytherins chose dates from their own house. You hooked arms with Pandora and continued walking to the door. If Emma and Dorcas wanted to linger in the common room with their dates, that was their choice. You had a date from a different house.

Sirius was the first one ready, which surprised the rest of the Marauders. They had figured that Remus would’ve been the first, followed by Peter and James with Sirius coming in last. He paced the dorm as he waited for someone else to be ready.

“Padfoot, calm down. Your jitters are contagious,” Peter said, struggling to figure out his cufflinks. “Actually, come here. You clearly know how these work.”

Sirius was more than happy to oblige. It was something to do. He was nervous to finally go public with his relationship with you. He knew that one evening was all his friends needed with you before they realized how amazing you are and would accept you into the group. He just needed this evening to go well. He didn’t want to think about what could all go wrong, which is where his mind kept drifting to every time the dorm fell quiet as the boys dressed and made their final adjustments. 

“Why are you so nervous, Pads? You’ve been dating this girl for months,” James asked as they left their dorm.

Sirius didn’t answer right away. He didn’t want to admit out loud that he was nervous they wouldn’t like you.

“Just a big night.”

“Make note of it, boys,” Remus said with a smirk. “Padfoot won’t be this nervous again until his wedding day.” 

James and Peter laughed while Sirius rolled his eyes. In the common room, couples were meeting up. The girls saw the boys come down the stairs and joined them quickly. 

“Who’d you end up saying yes to?” Remus asked Lily.

She shot a nervous look toward James, but he was already in a new fit of laughter with Marlene as they awkwardly exchanged flowers. 

“Thomas Boot.”

“Oh, maybe he’ll come down with Emmeline! Shall we?” he said, offering his arm to Lily.

She agreed and Sirius followed the two of them out of the room. 

You had agreed to meet up with Sirius outside the Great Hall. Just about every other inter-house couple had the same idea as people gathered outside the large doors. From a distance, you could see the silvery glow emitted from the Great Hall. Snow appeared to be falling out of the doors but never reaching the head of the tallest student. As you got closer, you could see the enchanted icicles and hear the light music that was already playing. 

Pandora started bouncing on the balls of her feet as she scanned the crowd for Xenophilius. As soon as she saw him, she bid you a quick bye before darting in his direction. You bit your lip as you tried to spot Sirius. Your heart was already pounding in your chest. 

This was it. There was no going back to the safety of your private relationship after this moment. You would have to deal with the fallout with your friends and all the harsh words they’d have to say about Sirius. And you’d have to deal with whatever Sirius’ friends had to say about you. You hoped they were kind and compassionate people that Sirius described them as being. 

“Darling, you look… wow. Just wow,” Sirius said, having found you while you were lost in thought.

Worries? You didn’t have any worries.

Sirius’ words brought a blush to your cheeks and a smile to your lips. He had a hand held out for you to grab. You took it and he pulled you close. 

“I have never seen someone look so spectacular,” he murmured against your ear. “How did I get so lucky?” 

“An insane amount of luck,” you teased.

You pulled out of his space for a moment to give him a once over. 

“Rumors are true. You do know how to clean up,” you said before moving back to his side and letting him steer you inside the Great Hall.

“Maybe one good thing did come out of all those balls I was forced to attend in my youth,” he sighed.

You giggled. “You’re still in your youth, you idiot.”

“Oh,” he mock-gasped. “Then maybe we can make another good thing come out of the balls of my youth.”

“What would you like out of this ball, Mr. Black?” 

“The whole castle to know that you’re mine.” 

“Well, we do seem to be headed in the right way for that.” “Fantastic!”

Sirius didn’t leave your side for most of the night. He was glued to your side before the dancing and partying really started, as you milled around the drink and snack tables. His friends found you first. 

“You’re the girl who’s got Padfoot smitten?” Peter gasped. 

You nodded, too nervous to trust your voice. Sirius tightened his grip on your waist to ground you. He knew how much you both had been worrying about this moment. 

“Whose idea was it to keep you a secret?” James asked, looking from Sirius’ face to his hand holding your waist to your shaky smile.

“Yeah, really. Heard from Lily that you’ve been dating all term?” Marlene added.

“I-I think I brought it and he agreed,” you said. Your voice wobbled a little, but you told yourself it would steady as you talked more with the group.

“Where’s Moony and Vance?” James asked, craning his head to look around the hall. “He’s not going to believe this.”

“What’s not to believe?” Sirius asked, sounding affronted. 

“That you got a pretty little Slytherin under your arm, Pads.”

You tensed. There it was. Throwing your house out there like it was a definition of who you were.

“And what about it?” Sirius snapped.

James looked back at Sirius and you with his eyebrows raised. 

“Nothing. Nothing!” James chuckled uncomfortably. “We just… might have… maybe… placed bets on who it was.”

“And we all lost,” Peter added. 

“So who gets the money then? Us?” you asked. 

“I think we should, darling. Mates, how much do we get for being unpredictable?” 

James and Peter groaned in unison. Meeting Remus and Lily resulted in similar amounts of shock that you were a Slytherin but then moved on quickly to jokes. Lily seemed most interested in how you and Sirius came to be, which you told her was probably a conversation saved for another time. You gestured to the ball and she nodded. 

“That wasn’t so bad,” Sirius said as you two made the your way to the dance floor. 

“Think they like me? Or at least tolerate me?” 

“Love, you didn’t bat an eye at the boys betting on who you were. They love you already.” He spun you around before pulling you into him, your back pressed to his chest so he could whisper into your ear, “But they’ll never love you as much as I love you.”

You stumbled as Sirius began to spin you again. Then you were chest to chest.

“Say it again,” you said breathlessly. You couldn’t believe what you heard. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Before Sirius could spin you or dip you or do anything to move you away from his face, you kissed him. It was a moment filled with pure bliss. You were dancing with your boyfriend, kissing him, in public, both looking beautiful, and he just told you that he loved you for the first time. It was perfect.

“It’s fucking Black?” Emma’s voice screeched. 

You pulled back. Both you and Sirius turned to see your roommate looking at you with utter bewilderment in her eyes. Mulciber, who was holding onto her waist, had a look of disgust etched into his face as he took in the scene before him. 

“No wonder you didn’t tell anyone,” she snarled before dragging Mulciber in the opposite direction.

You assumed that she was off to tell everyone else who hadn’t seen you yet. You really hoped that Dorcas and Pandora would take the revelation better. If not, your dorm was about to become the most uncomfortable room in the entire castle, save maybe the common room. 

“If they kick you out of Slytherin, we’ll smuggle you into our tower,” Sirius told you, trying to comfort you.

Your distress was evident on your face. As much as Sirius’ offer lessened it slightly, it was only slightly. You still had another year and a half in this dorm and even if you and Sirius broke up at some point, Emma wouldn’t forget it. 

Then Pandora and Xenophilius appeared next to you.

“Treat her well, Black,” Pandora warned. Then her voice softened as she acknowledged you. “We’ll deal with Vanity later. Enjoy your night.” 

When they disappeared, you relaxed. If Pandora, the one who had been trying to set you up with her brother, could accept Sirius that easily, then Dorcas would follow. Or at least it would be two against two in the dorm. Having one girl in your corner was enough to ease your mind and allow you to enjoy the rest of your night with Sirius.

Dorcas did find you later in the night. She was mumbling about how Aubrey was an utter buffoon and she never should’ve agreed to go with him in the first place. 

She gave Sirius one look before saying, “At least you got a hot one…”

You and Sirius broke out in laughter once Dorcas bolted again with a quick mention of seeing Aubrey coming. Sirius left you with his friends as he went to get drinks. As he had predicted, his friends warmed up to you quickly. You were welcomed into their circle as they bantered with each other, their contagious laughter filling the air. 

After he turned with the drinks, Sirius was with you until he walked you back to the Slytherin Dungeon. Echoes of laughter and faint music filled the corridors as you descended down flights of stairs. 

“Overall, I’d say it was a rather successful night,” Sirius said.

“Successfully a second good thing to come from your youthful balls?” 

Sirius snickered. “Youthful balls.”

You shoved his shoulder while joining in his laughter. 

“You’re a child.”

“A youth, a child. Same thing, right?”

“Apparently so,” you said, unable to prevent yourself from smiling. 

“Well, good night my love,” he said before kissing your cheek. “If it becomes too much down here, password’s feriae munera.” 

Your chest warmed at his offering of the Gryffindor Tower. A ‘just in case’ for the sake of Emma and the rest of the Slytherins who thought Sirius was barely a step above muggle borns. Sirius was the best thing you could’ve asked for.

“Good night, love.”

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Dear Future Husband {Blurb}

Barty Crouch Jr. x Reader

Wc: 2895

Cw: Cussing, use of {Y/N}, Barty could be seen as pushy, minor argument, Jegulily agenda

The sound of heels against the cobbled floor of the outside halls of Hogwarts seemed to set a tone for conversation. You, Lily, Mary, Dorcas, and Marlene were walking through the empty halls, everyone taking jabs at the poor redhead who just had to endure James Potter making an absolute fool of himself for her.

None of you could bring yourselves to feel bad for her, finding out she had both James Potter and Regulus Black wrapped around her pale finger. Still, she remained steadfast to say she felt nothing for them, a horrible lie. One you tried to keep quiet about after finding Lily openly kissing the youngest Black in the library.

It's a marvel James hadn't caught on to their game yet.

“I'm just saying, if I ever get on the tables to profess my love to someone and she walks out?” I think I'm ending my life right then and there.” Marlene cheeked and looked around the group to look at the still very flustered Lily.

Dorcas was walking beside Marlene, giving her a sideways glance from where she was hugging her arm, slipping her dark hand into Marlene’s pocket to interlock their fingers with a teasing smirk.

“It's so romantic!” Mary practically purred from the other side of Lily, you gave a laugh.

“What is with everyone being so enraptured by his stupidity?” Lily scoffed, trying to hide her smile.

Marlene shrugged, tilting her head slightly as she regarded Lily- scandalized, with a smirk that reached her eyes. “Maybe it’s the way he trips over his own feet just to get your attention. It’s charming in a sort of disastrous way, don’t you think?”

“Charming?” Lily rolled her eyes, but the hint of a smile tugged at her lips. “More like embarrassing. He’s constantly making a fool of himself- it's like he thrives on it.”

“I have to agree.” You pipe up. “I'm certain if he didn't have you to pine over; whatever else he'd channel that energy into would surely kill him.”

“I second that.” Dorcas chimed in, her voice light and playful. “You'll kill the poor boy, Lily.”

“Oh ho ho! I know you aren't speaking on this, {Y/N}!” Mary challenged, hugging Lily's arm and shooting a look at you as you all settled to the grass. “Where is your own heart being taken? Last I checked, you were the one hiding behind the stacks in the library. Away with a certain RavenClaw.”

You face fell the second all eyes shot to you. Okay, maybe what you were doing to Lily was cruel.

Quickly, you corrected your expression and scoffed. “Come off it! I was just trying to find a quiet place to study! He insisted on looking over my notes.”

“Away to hear his constant declarations of love?” Marlene prodded playfully as she laid her head on Dorcas’s lap, you gave a huff and looked away in a fluster.

“Or to eat some of those muggle chocolates?” Mary prodded, smirking at your face changing color. Lily gasped, like the idea of you eating your muggle delights without her was sin.

“Or perhaps she fancy’s his more forward approach?” Dorcas sighed airily and Lily gave a roll of her eyes.

You buried your face in your hands, groaning in dramaticized despair. Marlene prodded Dorcas in the shoulder and she looked down at her curiously.

“Hey, lovely, how many times has Barty brought up {Y/N} today?” She smirked and you groaned even louder and aggressively began to shuffle around your papers and books out to properly study.

“I'm not listening!”

“I think he said he was going to ask her to Hogsmeade again at the game. Once he wins, of course.” She faked indifference to the memory as she tapped her chin. You groaned.

“For once I'm rooting for James. May his broom be quick and the snitch magnetic.” You huffed and Marlene laughed. Glancing just past you before her smirk doubled in size.

“Speaking of your little lover boy. I think he's started it up with Sirius again.” Marlene cooed and your face dropped. Turning sharply to see just that.

Regulus Black and Evan Rosier, standing at the entrance of the courtyard watching as Barty butted heads against Sirius Black, who was practically fuming at his taunting.

You threw your head back and rubbed your temple while Mary gave a giggle.

“Well, {Y/N}. Seems your dog needs wrangling.” Mary mocked in a terribly done southern American accent. Laying back on the grass as if to show her complete lack of help.

“Do I have to?” You mumbled.

“If you don't want him getting detention.” Dorcas mused and gestured back. Now, it seemed Barty had tossed off his robe and rolled up his sleeves. James had his arms locked under Sirius’s arms, keeping the fuming boy back. You took a deep breath and tried not to admire Barty’s pale inked forearms.

You huffed and began to pack up your things before you stood up, leaving the circle of giggles behind you as you crossed the field.

The sun gave you a warm glow of a backdrop, like a halo, Barty thought. He wasn't the only one, as Remus and James watched you walk over to Barty’s discarded robe and picked it up. James giving a dramatic sigh of relief and Remus smiling softly at you.

“Bartemius.” You called over.

The tension in the air between Barty and Sirius was palpable from yards away, but the second you greeted him, Barty turned practically dog-like. You could hear the murmurs of the other students as they began to disperse from their weekend entertainment. It wasn't the first time you had ruined their fun as the residential dragon tamer.

You walked past him, carrying his robe, and Barty gave a scoff. Smiling at Sirius’s scowl as he flipped him off with both hands, walking backwards to were you wandered off. His tongue sticking out of his crooked grin, showing off his butchered tongue piercing.

He turned sharply on his heels and ran after you, ignoring Sirius’s taunts as he peered over your shoulder, his chest brushing against your arm as you walked.

You both walked down the hall in relative silence. You could tell it was bothering him, having to be quiet for once. His fingers interlocked behind his head and leaned half back midwalk. Hurrying to correct his posture as Professor Slughorn walked past.

You walked to the library, setting yourself up in the far back. You unpacked your bag and set his robe on the table.

He didn't bother to grab it, instead, he crossed his arms and leaned his head on the table, watching as you set yourself up to study. You ignored him for the most part, allowing him to stare at you, it wasn't like he didn't spend every other hour of the day doing so-

Then, he gave a huff and a sigh. Like he was trying to get your attention. Again, you ignored it, and he just did it again. Making you sigh and close your book, setting it aside and looking him in the eyes. “Crouch?”

“Barty.” He corrected, as he always did when you addressed him as anything other then his first name. You arched your brow at him and his confident smile faded a bit. You slowly relaxed and sat up, crossing your arms.

“So…” You trailed off. “What did Sirius say that made you so mad this go around?” You mumbled.

He gave a nonchalant shrug and rubbed the back of his neck. “Nothing, just said something that needed correcting.” He nodded as if agreeing with himself for making the right move, looking at you as if he expected praise for his idiocy.

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Nothing? You were about to duel him in the middle of the courtyard, Barty. I highly doubt it was just a friendly chat about the weather.”

He gave a low groan and his smile slipped away completely. “He was being an shit, talking about the girls he could swoon. Bragging to the other assholes-”

“Some of those assholes are my friends-”

“How they ever got that lucky infuriates me.” He growled and you glared at him.

“Crouch-” You warned.

“Barty.” He corrected without losing flow of his story. “Made some comments about birds. Then he had the audacity to bring you up. I had to remind him that no one will ever be worth your time, let alone Sirius Black-”

You felt a flush of warmth spread across your cheeks at his words, but you quickly masked it with a frown. “You didn’t have to get into a fight over me, Barty. You know I can handle myself.”

He leaned in closer, his expression earnest. “I know you can, but you shouldn't have to, star. I don’t like the way he talks about you, like you’re some trophy to be won. You deserve better than that.”

“Better than what, exactly? A bit of banter and teasing among friends?” You sighed, crossing your arms defensively. “It’s just Sirius being Sirius.”

But Barty shook his head, more determined. “So I had to remind him that you're light years better then him. That you're my girl-”

“I am not-”

“Not yet.” He soothed out in a softer tone before going back on his tangent. “And he said that if he wasn't worth your time then I certainly wasn't.”

You gave a weak huff. “Is that all?” You asked in a bland tone, rubbing your temple.

“Regardless.” You finally spoke up again. “Don't start fights in the halls, Barty. You should know not to do that.”

Barty tilted his head, considering your words for a moment before he leaned back in his chair, a playful grin returning to his face. “You know, it's my responsibility.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, but the corners of your mouth betrayed you with a hint of a smile. “And why is that, Crouch?”

“Well, you're my future wife, can't let him disrespect you.” You gave a small laugh and rolled your eyes.

Barty had made a habit of declaring his love in… unconventional ways.

It started in year two, he made a big stink about his father and his bloodstatus. He found the first muggle born closest to him, unfortunately you, and proposed marriage.

Now, younger you was mortified. It's not every day you're sitting at the Gryffindor tables eating lunch and suddenly a rather cute RavenClaw boy asks for your hand in marriage. Now, knowing Barty better, you could admire the absolute ridiculousness of it all.

You refused flat out, and he was shocked- as if it was that simple.

Though, you'd never let him know about the growing fondness. He's got a big enough head already.

You leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms and giving him a playful glare. The creak of the old wooden chair seemed to punctuate your previous statements. “You think you can just declare it and it becomes true? Maybe I want to marry someone who doesn’t start fights in the hallways.”

Barty feigned shock, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. “Oh, but darling you would never be so boring.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to suppress the smile threatening to break free again. He seemed to be just loving it, the subtle tells that you enjoyed his presence after years of your fake hatred. “Boring? I’d say you’re the one who thrives on the more ludicrous things in life.”

“Absurdity is just excitement in disguise.” He mused, his expression serious for a moment before it broke into a grin. “Besides, who says I can’t be both exciting and devoted?”

You shook your head, pretending to be annoyed, but deep down you couldn’t help but feel a flutter of warmth at his words. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “It means that when I’m in charge, I get to choose who I spend my time with. And I choose you.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you met his gaze. Your cheeks flushed much to your own dismay. “Barty, you’re impossible.”

“Impossible to resist?” He cheeked, raising an eyebrow.

You rolled your eyes, but the smile on your lips betrayed you. Trying to lift your hand to cover it he gave an audible sound of displeasure. Just as you were about to retort, he suddenly straightened up, a serious look crossing his face.

“How many times must you make me beg?”

You blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in his demeanor. “Beg? What on earth are you talking about?” You knew you were blushing, but fought against the embarrassment creeping up your neck.

His expression turned earnest as he leaned closer, his eyes locking onto yours. “I’m talking about asking you to marry me.” He concluded as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Just marry me and no other men would dare even look your way, I can guarantee that.” He pushed like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Barty, this is starting to not be funny-”

“It was never a joke.” He assured, expression so serious you lost the words in your throat.

“You're 16.” You challenged and he shrugged.

“So are you.” He returned and you gave a scoff of a laugh.

“Barty, we're kids. There are a million girls witches and non pureblood that you could be pining over. Some you haven't even met yet.”

He leaned back slightly, crossing his arms defiantly as if he were preparing for a debate. “But I’m not pining over them, am I? I’m pining over you. You’re the one I want to be with.”

“You're a brute!” You huffed.

“Not with you.” He defended slyly.

“You've clearly lost it years ago.”

“When you first told me no, I remember the date down to the time you said it.”

“Horseradish.”

“I do!” He shot back, leaning closer. Both of your body languages creating a small chorus of squeaking chairs. “December 12th, it was your Lunch hour and I was skipping study hall. You were wearing your tie with the tag out and was trying to fix it when I asked. You had a red ribbon in your hair. It was 12:36 exactly.”

Your jaw dropped a bit. You hadn't even thought he noticed you before that stupid declaration.

You stammered for a moment before you gathered yourself. “Barty, you hardly know me.”

“I know everything about you! You're the one thing I study in this bloody school!”

You felt a mixture of warmth and confusion swirling within you. Barty’s intense gaze was unwavering, and you could see the sincerity in his eyes. “But this is all so… drastic. We haven't even dated!”

“So why don't we?” He shot back, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. Both of you shooting back retorts so quickly you didn't have time to think before you shot back.

“Because you haven't asked! You just keep asking to marry me!”

Barty’s eyes widened slightly as he processed your words, and then a broad grin broke across his face. “Is that what this is about? You want me to ask you out first? Why didn’t you just say so?”

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden change in tone. “I-” You stammered, feeling the heat in your cheeks worsen. “I mean, yes! I want to date someone first, not just jump to marriage! That's comment ritual I fear.”

“Right, right!” He nodded enthusiastically, leaning forward as if he were about to make a grand announcement. “Then let’s date! How about I take you to Hogsmeade this weekend? We can have a proper outing, just you and me. No more silly declarations of marriage until we’ve had our first date.”

You sighed and rubbed your face. Would you really do this?

There was a long pause, but Barty stared at you with a patient and sweet look.

You couldn’t help but feel a flutter of excitement. The thought of going out with Barty felt both thrilling and terrifying. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?” You whispered, searching his face for any signs of a joke- what a long prank if so.

“Absolutely.” He nodded, his voice steady. “I want this. So bad. I think it’s time we stop playing these games. I mean it when I say I want to be with you.”

You looked down, contemplating his words. The idea of spending time with Barty outside of the usual chaos made your stomach flip. “Alright,” you finally said, trying to keep your tone light. “Let’s do it. But you have to promise to behave and not start any fights.”

“Deal.” His grin widening.

“And… I was sweets.”

“Anything.”

“Chocolate frogs. And more of those muggle chocolates you snuck in too.” You pushed and he laughed.

“I did say anything. I mean anything. I'll bring you a Graphorn if you're patient enough.” His voice was determined and serious.

“... fine.” You whispered with a sigh, giving into it all.

Barty had been ecstatic the second you agreed. He was charming and polite the whole time, an absolute darling.

Though, the second the date ended, his questions came back with more vigor. You couldn't help but enjoy it, knowing your future husband was so horribly whipped.

[brokenmenswhore]

I hate to do asks but like just imagine this! At hogwarts there is a group that’s kinda like a polyamorous relationship but just for s*x and it’s like slytherin and gryffindor students and they decided they wanted someone from like a year younger so they start to slowly talk to innocent reader to get them comfortable around them before starting to get touchy with her (maybe she is a hufflepuff? That’s my house)

i’m a hufflepuff too 🫶🏻 thanks for feeling comfy enough to send me this ask if you don’t usually like doing that!

a proposition | poly!marauders

#1

pairing: poly!marauders x fem!reader (james, remus, and sirius, featuring alecto, dorcas, evan, lily, and mary)

warnings: none!

a/n: i don’t even realize my sirius favoritism until i proofread a poly story and i’m like damn okay then WHORE

a proposition: masterlist

────── ☾ ──────

Everyone knew about it.

Even though it wasn’t spoken of in the presence of the students not involved, everyone knew about it.

It wasn’t exactly a polyamorous relationship, because a relationship implies more than just physicality, which is what it was. It was purely for sex.

It was started, of course, by Sirius Black. He had a casanova reputation, and after a while, he started looking to the same group of girls when he was in the mood. His best friend, Remus, unknowingly slept with quite a few of the same girls, and a lot of those girls slept with each other.

James didn’t have as much sex as his two best friends, but he quickly became involved. After a while, a group was established.

All of the students involved knew one another well, and were all somewhat close friends that had not romantic desires toward one another, but unashamed lust. It was a sex positive group, and was essentially just a group of students who fucked each other whenever.

Despite the unofficial, non-relationship standing, they all agreed to only have sex with each other. If they wanted to add someone into the group, they all had to agree to it. So, in a way, it was a relationship, but, in a way, it wasn’t. There wasn’t really a label on what it was, but it worked for them.

Everyone in the group was in the same year at Hogwarts, so they all related to each other well.

However, a few of them began to crave something new- someone not so in line with everyone.

Everyone sat in the Gryffindor common room at an hour late enough that most others were asleep. James sat on the floor, his back resting between Dorcas’s legs as she played with his hair, tying small braids from the curly strands.

“We wanna bring something up,” James said.

“We’re doing we’s now?” Sirius scolded, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“I just mean, there’s something Dorcas and I talked about, and now I’m talking about it with all of you,” James clarified.

“Fair enough, what’s up?” Mary asked.

“I’m wondering how everyone here would feel about inviting someone new into the group.”

Everyone looked around the room at one another, attempting to gage the energy of everyone else before speaking their own opinions.

“I vote we should bring in someone younger,” Evan added.

“Younger like what? Like wouldn’t that be weird?” Remus asked.

“No, idiot, like a year under us,” Evan retorted.

“Where the fuck are we gonna find someone a year younger than us who would be down to do this?” Mary questioned.

Sirius flicked a spark off of his cigarette, clearing his throat and sitting forward a bit. “I have someone in mind.”

“Has everyone been trying to scope out prospects? Am I the only one who hasn’t thought about inviting in anyone new?” Alecto asked.

There was another shared look, and everyone shrugged. They had all thought about a change.

“Who’d you have in mind, Sirius?” Dorcas brought the attention back to his statement.

“There’s this hufflepuff a year below us, seems super innocent though,” Sirius said, taking a quick hit of smoke, “blushes every time I look at her.”

“Is she hot?” Remus asked.

“No, I’m proposing we all fuck her because she’s not hot,” Sirius snapped, his voice laced with evident sarcasm.

Sirius told them your name, and a few of them already knew who you were.

“She’s super cute!” Dorcas exclaimed, “I’m super down for that. Anyone disagree?”

Everybody was on board with the idea.

────── ☾ ──────

“Go on, then.”

James turned to Sirius and Remus, saying, “why does it have to be me? You go do it.”

“Fine,” Sirius replied, “Remus, go talk to her.”

Remus threw his hands up. “What happened to being set on making James do it?”

Sirius shrugged his shoulders. “She’s not gonna be sitting at that table forever. You nervous or somethin’?”

“No,” Remus quickly replied, “this is just, I don’t know, weird.”

“How’s it weird?”

“Because I’m about to go interrupt the poor girl in order to talk to her with the intention of later asking her to fuck me and all my friends,” Remus explained, “I don’t know, it’s just a weird thing to do.”

“Fuckin’ hell, I can’t stand you two,” Sirius said, flicking a spark off of his cigarette and walking over to you. He sat down across the table from you, watching you intently as you scribbled notes off a textbook.

You didn’t look up because you didn’t even consider that he was sitting near you for a reason.

“Hey.”

You looked up, and Sirius was looking directly at you. The familiar tint of red crept into your cheeks. “Hi.”

He took a drag of his cigarette, kicking his feet up onto the table. “Seen you around quite a bit.”

You couldn’t help but stare at his lips as they wrapped around the cigarette.

“We do go to the same school,” you quipped, smiling to show it was lighthearted.

Sirius smirked, happy you were responding well to him. “I usually don’t get on with anyone that isn’t in my year.”

“Why talk to me then?” you asked.

“Don’t know,” Sirius said, swinging his feet off the table and leaning his torso over the table a bit, “guess somethin’ just caught my eye.”

He knew his flirtations would make you blush, and they did just that. You smiled as you tilted your head back down, pretending to look over your notes in an attempt to calm yourself.

Sirius’s smile only widened watching you squirm under his gaze. “Whatcha studying?”

“Fwoopers,” you responded, “but understanding seems to evade me sometimes.”

“You know who’s super smart? My friend James.”

“Wh-“ before you could even stop him, Sirius signaled over James, who approached you with Remus in tow.

“This is James, James, say hi.”

James sighed. “I’m not a dog, Sirius, unlike some people.”

“Funny,” Sirius retorted, “do you think you could help my new friend with some Care of Magical Creatures work?”

“Oh, I don’t- I’m all good, I-“

“Course,” James lit up, sitting down directly next to you, “lemme see.”

He pulled the textbook toward him, familiarizing himself with what you were reading as Remus took a seat next to Sirius.

You watched a few girls walk past your table, shooting you dirty looks when they noticed that the boys were otherwise occupied with you. Sirius, Remus, and James has grown to be quite popular, and them speaking with a random, younger Hufflepuff was odd. Remus noticed your shift in energy.

“You alright?” he asked.

“Yeah, I just- I’m a year under you, I can’t do your schoolwork for you or anything.”

Sirius furrowed his brows in confusion. “Why would we want you to do our schoolwork?”

“I don’t know, is that not why you’re all talking to me?”

James diverted his attention from your textbook, looking at you in understanding. He felt a pant of guilt for springing everyone on you at once, and a pang of sadness for the fact you didn’t think they would actually want to talk to you just because.

“You forget James is top of his class,” Sirius said, but James didn’t think the mood called for quips. He shot Sirius a look, taking over the conversation.

“We’re sorry if we came off a little strong,” he started, “we all just wanted to say hey. We see you around a lot and think you’re cute, it’s as simple as that.”

“Oh,” you said, suddenly turning weak.

Sirius was smiling and relaxing back into the chair, amused to high hell with how innocent and blushy you were from such a small little compliment. He was so happy he suggested you.

────── ☾ ──────

The following day, Remus and Lily caught you walking down a corridor during your free period.

“Shouldn’t you be in class?” you asked, directing the question toward Remus as they caught up to you.

“Didn’t feel like going,” Remus said, nonchalant.

“You can’t just not go,” you laughed, assuming he wasn’t serious.

“Be careful with this one,” Lily said to you, gesturing to Remus, “he’s a horrible influence. You wouldn’t have caught me dead skipping a lecture last year. He can be very persuasive.”

Something about the way she said it made you swallow hard, suddenly extremely aware of your presence and appearance.

“I’m Lily,” she finally introduced herself, throwing a piece of hair behind her shoulder. She was beautiful, and you became self conscious in her vicinity.

You didn’t respond, just smiled, so she took the opportunity to continue. “My friends and I are all headed to Hogsmeade later. You’re welcome to join if you want!”

“You’d want me to join?” you questioned.

“Don’t be silly, why not? Remus will be there too, and a ton of other really cool people.”

You contemplated your options. You had no reason to believe that Remus and Lily were not genuine in their invitation, and you were excited at the prospect of new friends. “Sure,” you responded.

Lily squealed and gave you a small hug. “I’ll go tell everyone you’re coming!”

“Why would you need-“

“Bye!”

Lily scrambled off down the hallway, leaving you alone with Remus.

“She tends to get excited,” Remus explained, “she’s the friendliest people-person I know. Can get quite annoying, actually.”

You giggled at his statement, and he took the opportunity to brush his hand against yours. You took it as an accident, so you didn’t even react, but then he intertwined his fingers with your own.

You didn’t retract your hand, but instead looked to where yours met his, and then looked at him. He continued looking forward, walking alongside you and not acknowledging what he did. He wanted to see if you would pull away on your own, but you didn’t. It felt comfortable.

You got ready for your trip with your new friends alone, since all of them were in Gryffindor or Slytherin and stuck to their respective common rooms. You caught Lily and Mary outside of their common room, and you walked with them down to Hogsmeade.

Now that you were outside of the castle walls, you noticed a shift in how everyone acted with one another. They were all very touchy, making sexual innuendos at each other and allowing themselves to have fun without restriction.

You followed as they immediately went to Honeydukes. Alecto informed you that Sirius had a serious sweet tooth, and always made everyone go there as the very first stop on their trips. No one complained, though, because they all wanted to anyway.

As you all exited the shop, Dorcas made a show of sucking her lollipop, staring Evan in the eyes as she did so. You felt your cheeks go hot, almost feeling like you saw something you shouldn’t have.

The next stop was the Three Broomsticks, and James saw your confusion as you reached the entrance.

“You okay?” he asked you.

“Yeah, just- didn’t you all just get a whole bunch of sweets?”

James laughed, “and?”

You smiled toward him. “Fair enough.”

“We don’t like to shy away from the pleasure of life, darling,” Dorcas said, imitating a very english accent. Everyone laughed in unison at her impression.

You all crowded around a table, and you remained silent, your hands in your lap for fear of obstructing the space Sirius had to your left and Mary had to your right.

You listened intently as everyone joked and talked about their current courses and professors, when suddenly a question was directed at you.

“So tell me, which professor do you like the least? I just know it’s Professor Bins. I mean, you’re crazy if you don’t say Bins,” Lily said.

“If I had to pick, sure,” you said.

“He’s never done anything to drive you crazy?”

“I mean, there was this one time he assigned so much work over the holiday that someone threw a desk out the window,” you started.

“Wait what? What exactly happened?” Lily asked, enthusiastic that you were finally opening up.

“It was just all textbook readings and analysis, especially about the Ministry and MACUSA and all that, and he said it had to be done by the time we came back from holiday. A few students protested, and he just got more and more angry until someone stood up, picked up a desk, and chucked it out the window. It happened so fast I don’t think anyone had the time to levitate it before it hit the ground.”

Everyone chuckled at the story, and you felt at ease now that you were becoming more and more comfortable with the group.

“And did he…”

“Faint from sheer stress? Oh absolutely,” you added, smiling as you spoke, your posture adjusting to mimic your growing comfort.

You didn’t catch it, but Sirius and Remus exchanged a look, nodding their heads upward at one another as Sirius gently placed his hand on your thigh.

Your body jolted a slight bit as you flinched, startled by the unfamiliar feeling. Sirius immediately pulled his hand away, but you turned to him, and spoke low enough that only he could hear. “It’s okay, you can leave it there.”

Sirius put his hand back, resting it low on your thigh. As time went on, and you continued talking, he began to rub his thumb on your leg. It felt unfamiliar, but soothing and intimate.

Of course you were attracted to the people at the table: they were all insanely attractive and kind to you, but you hadn’t felt this feeling before. Someone was touching you, and so intimately, and it was doing something to you.

Sirius began to slowly creep his hand upward, rubbing your inner thigh under your skirt, only a few inches away from your most sensitive area.

You shuddered and your breathing hitched in your throat, but you didn’t stop him.

You were suddenly snapped back to reality when you noticed everyone watching you. You looked around the table, slightly embarrassed and slightly confused.

“We have a proposition for you,” James said.

[me10n-10rde]

since people hate american marauders, fuck you, they’re now all from various states and most of them are involved in greek life in some way shape or form

barty says he’s from nyc but he’s a fucking liar. he is from an even richer even more pretentious part of upstate new york but one person assumed the city when he said he was from new york and he decided that was cooler and rolled with it. in a frat mostly to piss off his dad, always drunk or on something, still has a 4.0

dorcas is ACTUALLY from nyc. she’s majoring in polisci but is minoring in fashion cause it’s fun and she’s good at it

marlene is from a tiny town in tennessee, very conservative, VERY christian, really comes into herself at college although there is a LOT of religious trauma to work through

mary is from south carolina, she’s very much like a southern belle, make sweet tea that will rot your teeth type, 1000% in a sorority. she’s studying english or education and minoring in art, probably painting focused but she won’t be an art teacher

james is THE frat bro, like his dad and his dad’s dad and his dad’s dad’s dad were in this frat. he will be president eventually but for his freshman/sophmore years frank was president (james has a bit of a crush on him and did not realize) he’s studying sports medicine or social work and plays soccer

the black brothers are from massachusetts they went to some disgustingly expensive private schools, different schools though, either because sirius became awful after going to boarding school or because of trans!reg, your choice.

sirius joined the same frat as james, it’s the rival frat to his father’s so there’s some shit there. he isn’t on the soccer team because soccer wasn’t “sophisticated enough” for the blacks (he can fence and ski like a motherfucker though) but he does play soccer recreationally

regulus is studying law or finance or business or something equally awful because his parents made him, it’s soul crushing and he hates it but he is really good at it (as he is everything) he wants to study philosophy and will eventually switch when he gets out from under his parents thumb

lily and snape are from new england, i can’t think of like a specific place but it’s smaller and poorer, lily would be in an academic sorority but snape has a vendetta against greek life (cause he didn’t get any bids) and has also made lily very against it (hence her hatred for the marauders) her issues with petunia stem from pet not getting into the college, asking lily to stay behind with her, and lily just needing to get out of that small town

everyone loves texas remus but may i offer you like farm kid montana remus, his family has enough land and he was always busy enough that he never really got to interact with kids his age, maybe an accident with an animal that gave him his scars. he goes to college and joins a frat because growing up almost completely alone, that idea of unwavering brotherhood really appeals to him. he’s studying classics (shocker) which causes some fights with his dad who wanted him to do something more agricultural

peter is from illinois, it was a big deal for him to move out out state for college and join a frat since no body really expected anything from his life. he’s studying math. i think his storyline would kind of be like california by chappell roan, he really wanted the city to work out but it’s just not and he wants to go home. the city brings out the worst in him and he ends up becoming the worst version of himself to try and be liked

evan and pandora are from florida but moved all over because of their dad’s business. pandora is studying art (duh) with a minor in philosophy which is how she meets reg. evan is studying engineering, i’m thinking mechanical but i’m not too sure