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You were perfectly fine, minding your own business in the Gryffindor common room, settling in by the fire with a romance novel to forget the tedium of your day.

But of course James Potter had to ruin that.

Never mind that you had been dodging romantic advances from Severus Snape all day. Never mind that you had been through the hassle of hexing some of his stupid Death Eater friends. Never mind that you had just done hours worth of homework and you wanted to relax.

Never mind all of that.

James Potter had to ruin it.

“Reading again, are you?” You heard his voice. You’d heard him saunter in through the portrait hole with his stupid friends, but it seemed his stupid troglodytes had things to attend to upstairs. You were alone with him, except for a first year who took one look and scampered away.

Delightful.

Feeling distinctly annoyed, you snapped the spine of your book shut. “Well spotted, Potter. Your intellect thrills a generation.”

James shot you a smile, annoyingly good-natured, at you before his eyes dipped to the cover of your book. It wasn’t anything too embarrassing– no shirtless men, or pirates, or bondage– but it did have a man and a woman kissing on it.

Of course James had to comment. “What’re you reading?”

You moved to stand, to leave him and hide in the girls’ dormitory, but his athletic form was blocking you. “Porn,” you said coolly.

James’ hazel eyes flickered down to your book again. “You–”

“I see your brilliant mind is struggling,” you said. Deciding it was better to be rude than to keep conversing with the lout, you stood anyway. James moved automatically out of your way. For all of his faults, the idiot never threatened you physically. He didn’t even seem to realize how tall he was. “I’ll just leave you to it, then.”

You left a very confused James in the common room, taking your book with you. You forgot entirely about the exchange as you spent the rest of the night reading, immersed entirely in a world of Greek gods and steamy scenes, sitting comfortably in your bed. It wasn’t as comfortable as sitting by the fire, but Lily did lovingly tell off Marlene and Dorcas for being loud. You appreciated your friend’s consideration.

Then tomorrow came. You were straggling, coming down the stairs to the common room late after staying up all night reading. You now clutched another book in your hands, and your hair was a mess.

“Y/L/N!”

You groaned. You didn’t want to stop scrubbing your face with your palms to look, but you knew that voice. 

“What do you want, Potter,” you said, monotone. You kept walking, climbing out of the portrait hole to head down to the Great Hall for some breakfast before class. James kept up with you.

The rest of your classmates were already on their way to the Great Hall, several floors below you. You realized you were alone with James. This didn't scare you so much as it irritated you. It wasn’t like he was Severus, who had always been aggressive with his interest in you. James was… an idiot. But harmless.

James kept up with your pace easily. “You’ve got another book,” he said.

You wanted to let out a huff. “Well, they’ve made more than one, you see,” you said.

James followed you as you started down the endless flights of stairs. “Well, you can’t really be reading p–”

“And why not?” You stopped, staring up at him. He towered over you, the lanky idiot. “Better than snogging any of the boys here.”

James blinked in surprise. Then he grinned. “Didn’t realize you thought about snogging, Y/L/N.”

You shook your head. You started walking down the stairs again. “No, actually, I manage to read the smut without ever thinking about the smut. It’s a right paradox. Yeah, I buy the books just to stare at the pages without ever reading them.”

James still followed you, ignoring all of your bitter sarcasm. “How would you know if those stupid books are better than snogging boys here? You haven’t even tried.”

You found it bold of him to assume he knew your snogging habits. “Who do you suggest I snog? The only boy who asks me out is Severus, but I’d prefer not to–”

“Not him,” said James, interrupting you impatiently. You were getting closer to the Great Hall now, and you couldn’t be happier. You wanted this conversation over with. You weren’t embarrassed about your reading habits– no way in hell. But his interest in them was…

Irritating.

“Not him,” you said. “Right. Should I vet every boy who wants to snog me through the prestigious James Potter vetting process–”

James stepped in front of you, stopping you on a landing. “You know, if you told a bloke these– these fantasies, he might just act them out for you.”

You felt your tummy flip at his words, but you ignored it. You avoided looking in his eyes. “What bloke? You?”

James grinned. “Now that’s an idea.”

Your heart was fluttering, but you forced yourself to roll your eyes and step around him. “You’re too arrogant for your own good, Potter. It’s embarrassing.”

James still trailed after you. “There’s no way some words on a paper are going to keep you–”

“– satisfied?” You were in the entrance hall now. He stopped close to you. “I reckon you’d just love to know what keeps me satisfied, Potter.”

You patted him twice on the chest, then walked into the Great Hall to start your day.

You forgot about Potter once again, spending a quick breakfast chatting with your friends. Marlene instantly distracted you with a funny story about her awful date the night prior with a Ravenclaw. You laughed at all the right places, and then the two of you headed down to the dungeons for Potions. The rest of the Gryffindors were with you– Potter among them, not that you cared.

You settled into your seat in the frigid dungeon. Slughorn hadn’t entered the freezing room yet, so the students were gossiping amongst themselves. Dorcas picked off Marlene quickly, asking her about her date, and you found yourself setting up your cauldron silently.

Then you felt a presence beside you. You recognized it immediately, and it wasn’t a welcome one.

“Severus,” you said, already irritated, when he wouldn’t go away. You tried to set your vial of unicorn hairs on the table, but it started to roll. You thought you felt another set of eyes on you– other than Severus– but you didn’t care. You fumbled to catch the vial, but of course Severus did first.

Groaning internally, you forced yourself to look up at him.

He wasn’t bad looking. Really. With a strong, Roman nose, pale skin and black hair, he was neutral to you, not amazing, not appalling. It was his personality that bothered you.

He always showed up, his presence ominous and threatening. He never said much, just stared at you in a way that made you want to transfer schools.

“You’re not bad at this, objectively,” said the git, his hand closed over your vial of unicorn hair. “Not as terrible a waste of space as the rest of them, that is.”

You opened your mouth, probably to insult him, but he cut you off. You still felt eyes on you. Marlene and Dorcas were still occupied.

Severus leaned in closer to you, still holding the vial hostage. “I could make you better if you’d–”

“Here’s a tip,” you said mildly. “Starting sentences with ‘I could make you better if’ when you’re trying to talk to women is not a universally renowned approach.”

There was a snort behind you. A very loud one, and both you and Severus turned to see James Potter, leaning forward with interest, glasses low on his nose, twirling his wand.

“What do you want, Potter ?” asked Severus hotly.

“To teach you how to talk to girls,” said James, unbothered.

The two men started glaring at each other, both of them fingering their wands. Grumbling to yourself, you snatched the vial out of Severus’ hands, turning to set it down on your table. You tried to ignore the men– where was Slughorn?– but nothing could ever stop Snape and Potter when they were going at it.

“And you just have to talk to all of them, don’t you?” snapped Severus.

James was unbothered. “Jealous, Snivellus?”

The two boys seemed seconds away from hexing each other, but it was none of your business. The idiots had been going at it since the very first ride on the Hogwarts Express. It was none of your concern, and you didn’t care.

You edged your seat away from them, out of the Hex Zone, but it was needless. Professor Slughorn arrived, and with one last glare at James, Severus went back to his seat. You sighed in exasperated relief.

Boys.

At a certain point, after about an hour and a half of Slughorn rambling about all of the famous wizards he’d taught, you started to tune out. You felt the itch, the itch to dive back into your book you’d been reading. The male hero had just revealed his undying love for the heroine, so things were about to get good.

You shouldn’t, though. Maybe sometime soon Slughorn would stop boasting about the Slug Club and teach you something.

It didn’t seem likely, though.

Sighing, you caved. Thumbing through your book to find your place, you ducked your head slightly, entering back into the magical world.

You were only reading for a couple minutes when you felt someone prod you in the back with their wand.

“Oi,” said James Potter, his voice loud enough for you to hear but not so loud to distract Slughorn. “During class?”

You tried to ignore him. You really did. But you didn’t have the self-control.

“Potter, the things I’ve seen you do in class,” you said warningly. You didn’t look back at him, didn’t acknowledge him like that. “Can’t believe you’ve even made it to seventh year.”

You tried to go back to reading. The male hero was just taking off the female hero’s shirt–

“You can’t be that bothered that you’re reading that during class,” said James.

That got you. You whipped around, glaring. “Do you have a question, Potter? The only thing bothering me is you.”

A slow grin made its way across his handsome face. “Oh?”

You felt your face burn as you realized how that had sounded. “I didn’t mean–”

“– and Miss Y/L/N!” Slughorn clapped his hands together, and you whipped your head around, cheeks burning even worse. “She whipped up a fantastic batch of Felix Felicis last class! So close to the actual potion, I almost felt giddy.”

He gave what he thought must be a winning smile. You were just relieved that he wasn’t going to yell at you for talking. You still felt embarrassed about what you’d said to James, the innuendo. You could almost feel the prat’s smugness radiating from behind you.

It was hard to ignore him for the rest of class. As soon as Slughorn dismissed the class (complimenting you again for your Felix Felicis), you stood. Dorcas and Marlene hurried out of the class to get to their next, so you were left alone.

Of course James sauntered up to your desk. He picked up your book, which had been innocently sitting there, and started rifling through it. You tried to snatch it back from him, but he lifted it above your head. The room was quickly empty of people, leaving you two annoyingly alone.

“... he dipped down, his mouth taking her, devouring her–”

“James!”

You hopped up to snatch the book out of his pretentious hands. Once you got it, you started battering his chest with it. You were on fire with embarrassment. What was his problem?

“You said my name,” said James, blinking down at you.

This had you even more flustered. “Yeah, well, that’s what names are for.” You smacked him again with the book. “Why are you so obsessed with my books? Don’t you have other things to do?”

James smiled good-naturedly down at you. You were aware that you were close to him, and he smelled like pine and fresh air. “Maybe I find you interesting.”

Disconcerted, you hurried away from him, shoving stuff in your bag. You shoved the book in there, trying to get away from him as fast as you could.

James advanced, his stride powerful as he shouldered his bag. His wand twirled between his fingers. You felt irrationally like he was chasing you.

You tried to fend him off. “James, just– go play Quidditch or something. Aren’t you good at that?”

He settled into stride beside you. “You think I’m good?”

The dungeon corridors were empty of students, with everyone in the Great Hall having lunch. You were very aware of the space between James’ athletic body and yours. It was like he was casting some sort of spell over you, triggered by your embarrassment.

“I– I’ve never seen you,” you managed. “I don’t keep up with Quidditch. It’s barbaric.”

“Barbaric?” He didn’t seem offended. More amused.

You waved your hands. “Those– those balls that fly at people–”

“Bludgers,” said James, half of his mouth rising into a smirk.

“And the people with bats,” you said.

“Beaters,” said James. “’M not a beater, Y/N. And you mean you really haven’t come to any of the school games?”

You paused, brow furrowing. Why was it you’d thought he was one of the guys with the bats? “Then what are you?”

“Chaser,” said James. “ Much less barbaric.”

You started walking again, shaking your head. “It doesn’t matter. You need to leave me alone about my books. Just because I sometimes read–”

“Porn?” he grinned, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

Your stomach flipped as you made eye contact. “ Erotica,” you said indignantly. Never mind that you’d called it porn first. “I just don’t see why it matters to–”

“Come to a game,” said James confidently, stretching. You tried not to notice his arm muscles straining under his white shirt.

You stopped again. “What?”

“A game. Come to one of my games,” said James.

You started walking again, this time faster. “Why should I? We’re not friends. I don’t even like you.”

James was unfazed by this. “You will, though,” he said, still alarmingly arrogant. That was the one constant with James Potter, though. His outstanding arrogance.

You shook your head.

The two of you finally reached the Great Hall. You took the chance to sprint away from James, to your friends. You joined Lily.

“You look ill,” she said in her matter-of-fact way, spooning potatoes onto your plate. “Eat. What’s wrong?”

You glanced down the long table to where James sat with his idiot friends. “Nothing,” you heard yourself say. You stabbed a potato with a fork and asked Lily, “Did you finish your astrological chart yet? I can’t figure out if my moon is in Virgo or Libra.”

Lily seemed able to tell that you were changing the subject, but she let you do it anyway.

“You need to know your birth time,” she said, taking a sip of her pumpkin juice. “Why is James Potter staring at you? Do I need to talk to him?”

You glanced up. James was indeed staring at you. You felt your stomach flip again.

“Oh, Merlin,” you said, staring down at your potatoes. Now you felt ill.

Lily instantly got protective. “Has he been bothering you? You know, he’s not that bad of a guy, but he does act strange when he fancies someone.”

“Fancy? Come on,” you said, stabbing another potato. “He’s probably, probably high on gillyweed or under a spell. James Potter never fancies anyone.”

Sure, James had had a series of flings– he’d even briefly dated Lily once upon a time– but he never fancied anyone. Not enough to go on multiple dates or be serious with them.

You highly doubted James Potter knew how to be serious about anything.

Lily didn’t look convinced, but she let the subject drop.

The rest of the day passed by quickly. Soon, you were curled up by the fire in the common room, alone very late at night, reading again.

It shouldn’t have surprised you when James appeared in the common room. But it did make you want to throw your book in the fire to keep him from reading it again.

“What?” you groused.

James sat across the fire from you.

As the firelight filtered over him, you noticed his clothes. He wore flannel pajama pants and a tank top. You felt your jaw straining as you took in his arms, just as lean and muscular as you’d suspected. You wanted to trace the lines of his muscles with your finger tips, with your tongue–

You clenched your jaw. What were you thinking? It was the book. It had to be the book. You had just gotten to a particularly spicy scene.

James seemed to notice you ogling him. Your mouth went dry.

He had an easy smile on his face. “Is it good?” he asked.

Your mouth got even drier. “The– what?”

James’ eyes dipped to the book in your lap. You felt your heart flipping inside your chest. A heat started stirring in your belly. Which you also attributed to the book.

“Your book, Y/N,” said James, his voice a low rasp. “Is it good enough for you, honey?”

Oh, you were going to faint. “I– I don’t know what you mean.”

You hurried to stand, to run away, but something about him made you woozy. You faltered, wilting with vertigo, but you didn’t hit the floor.

Strong arms were cradling you, keeping you from hitting your head on the fireplace. You could smell his pine scent, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

“Merlin, are you alright?” He asked, and you had to force yourself to look up into his stupid hazel eyes. James looked concerned, all of that tense fire between the two of you gone. “Have you eaten? D’you need me to steal you food from the kitchens?”

You were instantly mortified. What were you doing, swooning? Maybe he was right. You’d read too many of those damn books.

You hurried to stand, all of your body screaming, tingling from his touch. “I’m fine. Just– stood up too fast, is all. Should really get to sleep. Thanks–”

You had to look at him. “Thanks,” you said again. After all, if it weren’t for him, you’d probably be concussed.

James’ eyes followed you as you scampered away, running up the staircase to collapse in your bed. You screamed soundlessly into your pillow for a few moments, trying not to wake the other girls. It took you a very long time to drift off into sleep.

The motherfucker was waiting for you in the common room again.

Lily gave you a knowing look as she took in James and then disappeared out of the portrait hole. James, not even noticing her, shot up, his eyes only on you.

“Are you alright?” he asked, looking genuinely… concerned. It took you a minute to figure out why.

Then your face heated. “I’m fine, really. I told you, I just stood up too fast,” you said, trying to join the crowd of people heading to breakfast. James, of course, followed you. You felt bad for ignoring him, like you had been for the previous seven years. “Thanks for… catching me.”

James studied you. “So you might say… you owe me,” he said slowly.

Your brow furrowed. “I wouldn’t say–”

“Come to the game tonight,” said James earnestly.

This again? “What does it matter if I come to the game? It’ll just be another red and gold sweater in the stands, yelling, ‘Go, Potter! You’re the best!’”

That classic grin was on his face. “You think I’m the best?”

“Ugh.” Your gratefulness for him catching you was already dissipating. You tried to walk away from him, but the Quidditch star was fast on the ground, too.

“I’ll buy you a book if you come,” said James, sensing he was losing you.

“You think I can just be bribed with–”

“Two books.”

That gave you pause. You looked up at him from where you waited on a moving staircase. You chewed at your bottom lip. His eyes went down to it, hypnotized.

“Hardcovers,” you bartered.

“Deal,” said James, still looking at your lips. Then he laughed, looking like something really good had happened to him. It really was quite simple to make this man happy, you thought. You didn’t know why he cared. He wouldn’t even be able to tell you were there.

Still, a deal was a deal. The two of you shook before the staircase reattached, then went about your day.

“A deal is a deal,” you muttered to yourself, trying to psych yourself up to head down to the Quidditch pitch.

You wore a plain red sweater and a long skirt. Your Gryffindor scarf was wound festively around your neck, and your hair was long down your back. You had your wand tucked behind your ear. You debated bringing a book down to the pitch.

“A deal is a deal,” you said again. Then sighed.

The walk to the pitch seemed to go by far quicker than you ever could have imagined. It took you forever, however, to clamber up all of the steps to the Gryffindor turret. By the time you were finally sidling into a seat next to Lily, you were wheezing.

“Y/N?”

Lily patted you on the back as you tried not to have an asthma attack.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

You wheezed out something nonsensical.

You certainly weren’t going to tell Lily that James Potter had bribed you to come to his game with romance novels. That just opened up several different conversations that you didn’t want to have, especially with Lily, who thought he fancied you.

You arrived just in time for the players to step out onto the field. Still wheezing embarrassingly loud, you squinted at the Gryffindor team. You saw red-and-gold clad classmate after classmate. For a moment you wondered if you’d even be able to recognize James. Like you’d said, the seats were far away.

Then you saw the way he was standing. That annoyingly self-assured way that only James Potter could stand. You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t take your gaze off of him (once you were done rolling your eyes, of course).

You felt Lily watching you watch him. She rolled her eyes, too, but said nothing.

The game started with the throwing of one of the balls– why were there so many balls? Several people went for the red ball, instantly intense, but James plucked it from the air effortlessly and sped off on his broom. Cheers erupted from the Gryffindor stands.

No wonder he’s an egomaniac, you thought to yourself, but secretly, you were fascinated.

You weren’t as bored as you’d thought you’d be, watching this game. Your eyes never left James the entire time. He moved naturally, flying freely. Even to you, who had no idea how Quidditch was played, it was obvious that he was talented. You wanted to be irritated that he was as good as everyone said he was, but mostly you were just impressed.

The game passed quickly. The commentator couldn’t get enough of James, and it was clear that the stands couldn’t, either. He had Gryffindor leading against Hufflepuff by fifty points in no time. You had long forgotten the books he’d promised you. You were surprised to find that you liked watching him.

It passed too quickly. The game was over. Gryffindor had caught the tiny flying ball– “The Snitch,” Lily had explained to you. “The what?” you said– and your team had won.

Your classmates cheered raucously around you, jumping up and down. You suddenly felt lost, very lost. Everyone was cheering his name, and you felt incredibly out of place.

“I’m just gonna– I have a book to read,” you mumbled to Lily, then darted away from your friend before she could ask you what was wrong.

You half fell the entire way down the stands. You weren’t sure why you were running away. Maybe it was because of the way your heart was racing from seeing his smile as his teammates lifted him up.

He’s James Potter, you said. You once saw him accidentally burn off one of his eyebrows during Charms. One time he drank a potion on dare that turned him green like a frog. He has stupid friends, and he’s annoying.

You hurried all the way back to the castle. Once inside the Gryffindor common room, you didn’t stop. No, not where he could find you. You hurried all the way to your bed, grabbing the first book you could find and burrowing under the covers.

Your heart pattered dramatically in your chest. You told yourself it was because of the sprint back to your dormitory.

You read your book, even as your classmates filled in to the dormitory, getting ready for a celebratory party in the common room.

It was hard to fall asleep with the celebration downstairs, but somehow, you managed.

You woke up early so that you could sprint out of the common room and to the Great Hall without ever interacting with him. You didn’t know if it was egotistical to think he’d be waiting for you again, but you didn’t care. You weren’t taking your chances.

You did get to the Great Hall early. It was almost empty. Feverish, you set to work devouring toast, hoping to get to Potions without encountering… anyone.

You didn’t know why you were being like this. You were a very confident, empowered person. You weren’t ashamed of your reading habits or your sexuality. You had great friends like Lily, and you were self-assured. You turned down gits like Severus with ease.

So why were you so flustered?

You got to the dungeons before anyone else. You unpacked your kit, your heart buzzing. Then the flaw with your plan to be early arrived.

“Taking an interest in potion work? I could teach you,” said Severus, finding you alone in the empty classroom.

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from saying something foul. “I’m sure you could,” you muttered. He took this as an invitation to get closer to you, setting his kit down on the table next to yours.

Severus seemed to think this was a compliment. “I am the top of our class,” he said.

“Uh-huh,” you said, wishing you were running into James instead. At least he didn’t make you want to peel off your skin with a potato peeler as a distraction.

Severus moved closer to you, again. He smelled like the Draught of the Living Death. “Y/L/N–”

“When girls angle their bodies away from you, Snivellus, it generally doesn’t mean come closer.”

You weren’t even mad that James had found you. All you felt was relief. You shot up from your seat, hurrying over to hide behind James. You clutched at his arm for some reason, your fingers holding onto his muscles beneath his shirt.

Severus was affronted. “ Him?” he asked rudely.

“Him what?” you asked stupidly. You were just hiding behind James because he was the only person who could keep Severus in check. That was the only reason, obviously. You weren’t the kind of woman who needed a man to protect her. No, who needed James Potter to protect her.

Severus was just that… intrusive.

Severus looked at you with disgust. “You’re just like every other one of them,” he said.

You felt a flash of anger, but before you could say anything, James was pulling out his wand.

“Right, yeah. She’s just like the rest of the intelligent, caring load of girls in our year,” he said hotly. “Merlin, when will you understand that the girls don’t dislike you because you’re too smart for them? It’s because you’re a prat.”

Severus ignored James, even though you thought James had made some good points. He fixed his gaze on you.

“Just a filthy little Mud–”

The hex came out of your wand before you even realized your wand was out.

Severus was slammed backwards by your hex, tripping over a table, sprawling on the floor.

You advanced on him. “Call me that again,” you challenged, ready to curse him. James watched, his wand frozen as he gaped at you.

Severus glowered at you as he tried to stand. He whipped his wand out, and he was about to strike at you when James recovered from his shock, snarling, “Expelliarmus!”

Severus’ black wand spiraled from his hand. Your classmates, both Gryffindor and Slytherin, started filing into the classroom, but none of the three of you cared.

Severus hurried to his feet, furious. “Didn’t think a pureblood like you would want a Mudblood like her.”

Professor Slughorn sauntered into the room. He didn’t seem to realize anything was wrong at first. Even you wouldn’t curse a man in front of a professor.

The entire classroom was still, everyone staring at you. Slughorn noticed this.

“Miss Y/L/N? Is there an issue?” He wasn’t angry. You thought you could probably shrink Severus’ skull in front of him, and he wouldn’t care. You were Slug Club. You could do no wrong.

“There was a rat,” you said, your eyes trained on Severus. “It’s dead now.”

There was snickering from your friends, but most of the class was too spellbound to do anything but stare.

Slughorn clapped his hands together, startling you. “Of course a star student like you could handle a pest like that.” He was oblivious. “Alright, everyone. Let’s get to our seats. I have a fascinating lesson about Amortentia– and one of my former students who was outstanding at crafting it– one you may recognize–”

Automatically, you felt yourself move to go to your seat. Lily went to sit next to you as usual, but James shocked you by cutting her off.

“Sorry,” he said, sounding genuinely apologetic. “I just want to stay with her in case there’s another… rat.”

Lily crossed her arms, shooting a glare at Severus. “I can handle rats,” she said. “You don’t have a monopoly on rat-killing.”

“I can kill my own rats,” you said, exasperated. The whole analogy was bothering you now.

Still, James sat beside you, unpacking his kit. Lily made eye contact with you to nonverbally ask you if it was okay. You shrugged, and she left, going to sit with Remus.

As everyone settled in, Slughorn started his lecture on how great a teacher he was, sprinkled in with a very small amount of potion instruction.

James started taking notes, scrawling something down on parchment. You started to settle into daydreaming, something you always did during this class. Then, James slid a note to you (of course he hadn't actually been paying attention to the lecture).

You frowned. Feeling butterflies in your stomach, you wanted to slide the note back to him without reading it.

But James had saved you. Really, you’d saved yourself, but he had helped. With a sigh, you unfurled the parchment.

I owe you two books.

You felt your stomach leap. He’d seen you? At the game? Out of all those people?

With hands that were strangely shaking, you wrote a response.

Surprised you could see me in the stands past the shade from your massive head.

You slid the note to him. He read it and grinned at you.

Your heart was racing just from passing notes with this idiot. Slughorn was oblivious at the front of the classroom, still talking about his own greatness.

Feeling overwhelmed, you pulled out one of your books and set to work reading:

He sank inside her, his hips meeting hers in a primitive expression of love. He could feel every inch of her as she soaked him, clenching around his member. She whimpered beneath him, pawing at his chest, begging for him.

James leaned closer to you, jarring you out of your book. “Can I pick the books I buy you?” he asked.

You were aware that he could see the smut on the page. “Wh– What do you mean? Why?”

James gestured at the book. “Maybe you need something… more.”

You felt that heat in your belly again. Your stomach clenched. “You don’t know anything about romance novels,” you said, trying to reclaim the power of the conversation.

“Yeah. But I do know things about… other things,” said James.

You swallowed. You felt your face heat, hot as the sun. You shifted in your seat. You glanced up at Professor Slughorn to see if he was watching the two of you. He wasn’t.

“I know things,” you said defensively.

James pulled the novel out of your hands. “Things you haven’t read, Y/N.”

“Well, excuse me for reading–”

“We’ll get you some good books,” said James, his voice almost a purr. You hated how much it affected you. You had to make a conscious effort not to squeeze your thighs together. “Wouldn’t want you to suffer, would we?”

Hypnotized by his hazel eyes on yours, you shook your head slowly.

James studied you, a light in his eyes. He seemed very aware of the effect he had on you. You found yourself gasping for air, and he hadn’t even touched you.

Satisfied, James pulled back from you, looking at Professor Slughorn, looking for everyone that he was paying attention to the lecture. Your entire body was hot.

The class passed quickly. Before you knew it, everyone was standing, Severus glaring at you before scampering out of the classroom.

James helped you stand. Your legs were still woozy. And he hadn’t even touched you.

You packed up your kit in a haze. James shouldered your bag without asking if he could, directing you carefully out of the maze of tables, into the corridor.

“Hogsmeade,” said James confidently. You blinked up at him, your eyes wide. You were very aware of his forearms, bare in his rolled up shirt sleeves; of his hazel eyes, his glasses, and his curls.

“What?” you asked dopily.

“You’re coming with me to Hogsmeade this weekend,” he said. “So that I can buy you some books.”

You were so dazed you said, “O-Okay.”

Then, Lily appeared at your elbow. “Y/N! Come get lunch with me, alright?”

This seemed to snap you out of it. “Yeah,” you said. You tried to tug your bag off of James’ shoulder, but he held it hostage for a moment. Not caring that Lily was there he said, “It’s a date, yeah?”

You just wanted this moment to be over. “Alright,” you said, cheeks hot. James relinquished your bag, and you grabbed it, taking Lily by the hand and running away from him.

“You’re dating James Potter?” asked Lily the second you two sat down at the table.

You shushed her furiously. “Stop! No, I’m not!”

Now that you were away from his magnetic pull, you felt quite stupid. You had been so dazzled by him. Why would you agree to go to Hogsmeade with him?

So he had some interest in you. Some fascination with your weird affinity for books. That didn’t make him date material. He was James Potter.

“He fancies you, Y/N,” said Lily. “Is that why you were at the game? Merlin, Y/N.”

You waved your hands madly. “Stop! No. No, I was just– I needed fresh air.”

Lily raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

You shook your head. “Sorry, that was lame. I was at the game because… because he asked me to come.”

You didn’t want to lie to Lily. She was your best friend. It was just… it was just…

You weren’t insecure, but why would a star like James have interest in you? Weren’t jocks supposed to be superficial and go for the popular girls? That’s what all the Muggle rom-coms said.

“He asked you to come to his game?” Lily stared.

You shoved part of a sandwich in your mouth, not even aware of what you were eating. “I think he’s just messing with me. For fun, you know. I’m not taking it seriously. You know how he can’t take anything seriously.”

Lily didn’t seem convinced. “Just… be careful. I know you’re tough, but…”

You shoved more sandwich into your mouth. Once you’d swallowed, you said, “Please. I don’t care what he does. I’m just being polite.”

Lily didn’t dignify that with a response.

The weekend came very quickly. Before you knew it, it was the day of the Hogsmeade date, and you were panicking in your dormitory.

Lily caught you pacing like an absolute madwoman, back and forth in front of your mirror. You had sweaters strewn across your bed, coating it like a blanket. She rolled her eyes to an astronomical level, then leaned forward, tapping a ruby red sweater. “This one.”

As you pulled it over your head, you protested, “It’s not a date.”

Lily rolled her eyes again. “I doubt he knows that. C’mon.” She gave you her arm. You took it– you could never spurn Lily.

The whole common room was abuzz with life, everyone chatting excitedly about their plans in Hogsmeade. James was waiting for you by the stairs, looking particularly dashing in a black sweater. He was chatting with his friends, laughing at a joke that Sirius Black had told.

You paused, staring at him. You had never really taken the time to stare at James Potter before, had never allowed yourself to. But he really was handsome when he laughed, when he smiled.

Beside you, Lily shook her head. “Not a date. Right. Go. Go on, then.”

She gave you a shove, which had to have been harder than she’d meant it to be, because you toppled straight into James.

He caught you instantly, his arms smoothing over you, steadying you. His group of friends stopped laughing, surprised by your sudden entrance. You saw Lily wink at you, then slip away.

“Y/N! You alright?” James pulled back from you to look into your eyes with concern. You were very aware of all of his friends staring at you. You imagined you could feel Sirius coming up with teasing comments about the situation to torture James at a later date. You didn’t know Black that well, but he was your classmate. You heard things. ‘Things’ being Black’s outstandingly loud mouth.

You hurried backwards, out of James’ arms, brushing imaginary lint off of your sweater. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m fine. Just– tripped.” His friends were still staring at you, now grinning. “Do you, uh?”

“Yeah, let’s,” said James, glancing at his friends. He offered you his hand, and you were so embarrassed at everyone watching that you took it.

Without another glance at his friends, James led you from the common room.

Somewhere along the walk down to Hogsmeade, James squeezed your hand. “Are you sure you’re alright? You keep falling.”

Oh Merlin, you were going to shove Lily down the stairs. Not. You could never hurt her.

But she would get a stern talking to.

“I’m fine, really,” you said, cheeks burning. It was sweet of him to ask, though.

You and James reached Hogsmeade, the air chilling and fresh.
Your heart was racing from his proximity, from the feeling of his skin on yours. Your hands were getting cold, though.

James rubbed your hand in his two as you stepped into the bustling street. “You’re cold.”

“I’m fine, really,” you said again, still nervous out of your mind.

James shook his head. He dragged you over to a clothing store, and he wouldn’t rest until he had bought you a pair of mittens. The two of you stood outside of the store, after, and he carefully put the mittens on you.

Your face was on fire. “James, you really don’t have to–”

“I want to,” he said, and he wasn’t even embarrassed.

But you were. You felt like people were staring, even though they weren’t. “Nothing embarrasses you, does it?”

He looked at you like he thought you were odd. “What should embarrass me? Buying things for a pretty girl? Holding your hand?”

Your cheeks were on fire. Ignoring that he'd called you pretty, you said, “We weren't holding hands.”

James’ mouth quirked up. “We weren't, huh?”

You shook your head. “No. Of course not. You're James Potter, and I’m… well, it doesn't matter.”

James raised an eyebrow at that. He took your now-mittened hand and started the walk down to the bookstore. “You think you don't matter?”

“No!” He was getting it all wrong. “I'm just not… the kind of girl you hold hands with.”

James studied you. “Is that so?” He looked pensive.

For half a second, you were convinced that he was going to let go of your hand, to come to his senses. That you would be left to wander back up to the castle alone just to face teasing and mocking from your classmates. Bookish little Y/N, thinking she can land James Potter .

Before you'd realized it, the two of you reached the book shop. James held the door open for you, gesturing for you to go inside first. He squeezed your hand before letting it go. As you walked in, you had to walk beneath his outstretched arm holding the door. It was then he murmured, “You are exactly the kind of girl I hold hands with, Y/N.”

Merlin, your entire body was aflame, it felt like. Your cheeks were on fire, and you quickly busied yourself by hurrying over to the romance section of the small bookstore. It wasn’t great, but it was the only bookstore in Hogsmeade, so you had to make do.

You hoped that being in the store, in hearing distance of other people milling about, would cool you down. Unfortunately, James sidled up behind you, picking a book off the shelf at random. Horrifying you, he flipped open to random page and began to read, “Adrian took him into her mouth, trying her best to please him, her lord, her lover–”

You elbowed James in the stomach hard enough that he made a noise of pain. You snatched the book from him and shoved it back on the shelf. With all of the Hogwarts students milling about, no one had heard you, but still.

You whipped around to yell at him, but he was grinning at you, holding his abdomen where you’d hit him. “Not good?” he asked innocently.

“No. I don’t want to read some stupid book where the girl does all the work,” you said. Then, realizing how that must sound, like you were sexually lazy, you babbled, “Not that girls don’t do some of the work. A girl can do the work. I can do the work, I imagine. I mean–”

James watched you, very clearly amused. “You can do the work, huh?”

Oh, fuck, your entire face was going to burn straight off. You whirled around, heart racing at the look you’d just seen on his face. He was amused by you, yes. But there was a heat there, an interest.

No. You’re going mad, Y/N, you yelled at yourself, reaching for another book. You stared at the flower on the cover for a moment, then flipped it over. You could feel James’ eyes on you. You couldn’t read a word of the description.

Luckily or unluckily, James moved closer, reading it for you, his words soft, a murmur in your ear.

“‘... As young princess to the throne, Adara must reconcile her burning feelings for her loyal knight with her engagement to a cruel and cold prince,’” read James. “See, that’s not so bad. Very proper.”

“They’re not going to print smut on the outside of the book, Potter,” you said, which you shouldn’t have, because James took the book from your hands and flipped it open.

He was so close to you, his athletic body behind you. He towered over your form, and even though there were other people in the shop, you felt like the two of you were on your own planet.

“... Adara sank deeper onto her knight’s length, gasping–”

“James, really.” You grabbed the book from him. You two might have been the only people on a planet, but you still had shame on that very small planet. James laughed softly.

“So you can read it, and you can brag to me about reading it, but the second I read it to you–”

“You have an awful voice,” you said, even though it wasn’t true. His voice was kind, powerful. “And I don’t need you reading smut to me in public. People will think we’re…”

You were too embarrassed to say ‘dating.’ Not to him. Instead, you started grabbing any two books with promising covers so that he could buy the books for you and this could be over.

“So?” said James, following you to the counter as you tried to check out. “D’you really think it hurts me for people to think that? Look at you.”

There was a horrible thud in your chest. “Well, I’m not keen on being used to make you look like more of a bad boy, sorry,” you said, trying to ignore just how much his response had hurt you.

But why were you even hurt? The two of you weren’t friends. And he was a stupid jock . You knew he was a lout. Except… Well, he wasn’t really entirely…

The cashier (awkwardly watching the two of you), mumbled the total. James pulled out some coins to pay, then tucked the books under his one arm. He grabbed your hand with his, thanked the bookkeeper, then dragged you out of the store.

You pulled your hand away, eyes stinging from the cold. “Right. Well, now you’ve bought me my books. This whole… experiment is over now for you.”

James looked confused, if not a little offended. “‘M not experimenting.”

You reached for the books, but James held them out of your reach. “No,” he said.

“James Potter, give me my books.” You didn’t know why you cared. You couldn’t have told someone what books you’d picked for a thousand Galleons. You didn’t need them.

Maybe you just needed a reason to stay.

James still held the books away from you. “I’ve said something,” he said, looking lost. “Tell me what I said that upset you.”

People were glancing at you now. Witches and wizards and even some of your classmates. “You haven’t–” You saw the look on his face, that he didn’t believe you. You grabbed him by the arm of his sweater and pulled him away from the cluster of stores, closer and closer to the woods. “I don’t care what you say,” you said. You still felt him staring at you. “ Honestly.”

When you looked up, he was watching you carefully, a frown on his handsome face. His hazel eyes traced your face. “James, give me my books,” you said, accidentally calling him by his name.

“No,” said James, stubborn. “You’re just going to run away if I do.”

He was right, but you didn’t like that he knew enough about you to realize that.

Before you could think of a response, there was a distraction. An unwelcome one.

“I see he’s already revolted you with his personality alone, Mudblood.”

You whipped around, wand out from the very first word he’d spoken. Once you whipped around, you saw Severus standing in the snow, his wand out, too. He was sneering at the two of you.

You opened your mouth, not even sure what you were going to say. “He’s not revolting, you are,” you said shortly, and you were surprised to realize you meant it. And not just the part about Severus being revolting.

This was the horrible thing about James’ fascination with you: you were finding out that the Potter jock was actually a nice person, and it was not a good feeling to realize that.

You had spent seven years thinking he was an arrogant prick, making fun of him with Lily, making jokes about his stupid friends and laughing, like you were so much better. You’d lumped him in with Severus, with all of the immature boys who weren’t worth your time… reading romance novels instead of actually talking to your peers…

… and yeah, it was easier to hide within romance novels, where even when the men weren’t perfect, they still couldn’t hurt you. But it wasn't real. And you hadn’t counted on someone like James finding that fascinating instead of pathetic. You hadn’t counted on this friendship with James, period.

Severus regarded you with something in his black eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, to say something else rude, but James stepped in between the two of you protectively. You flashed back to grabbing onto his arm in the classroom.

Severus looked at the two of you with malice, standing alone in this secret place. “Trying to make a halfblood?”

It took you a second to understand what he was implying. You felt your veins turn to shameful ice, embarrassed. Of course you and James weren’t– you weren’t–

“And if we are?” asked James easily, advancing on Severus. “Mind giving us the privacy to?”

Your belly flipped. You saw Severus glare at you over James’ shoulder, and you wanted to say something mean, but James’ comment had you tongue-tied.

James kept advancing. Even without his wand out, he was a force to be reckoned with. “Unless you want to watch?”

Oh, fuck. There was heat in your stomach. Not at the thought of Snape watching, but at James protecting you.

Severus glanced from you to James. Finally he fixed his gaze on James. “Blood traitor,” he said resentfully, then he stalked quickly away, looking like a bat. Or second-rate Dracula.

You stared after him, wondering how things had gone so wrong. Yeah, Severus had been annoying, hitting on you for the past seven years, but he’d never been rude. It had only been once you allied yourself– were you allied?– with James that you had earned his ire.

It didn’t matter, because as soon as Severus was gone, James was on you.

“What a git,” he muttered as he leaned down, looking into your eyes as if he was trying to gauge whether you were alright. You felt his touch on your shoulders, combined with the weight of the books he still held. “Y/N, he’s gone. I’m sorry he’s obsessed with you. I’ll turn him into a dung beetle.”

“James,” you said weakly.

“I can,” he assured you. “I’m rather good at Transfiguration.”

“I know,” you said, despite yourself. “We’ve been in the same house for seven years. I know what you’re good at. I pay attention to you. Everyone does.”

James’ hazel eyes met yours.

Your stomach flipped. It was too much for you. You pulled away. “Anyway,” you said, toeing a leaf that had been drifting by. “We should start heading back to town. I don’t want to get in trouble.”

Trying to make a halfblood?

And if we are? Mind giving us the privacy to? Unless you want to watch.

James studied you. He looked like he wanted to say something else to you, but he couldn’t. You darted past him, hurrying down the path leading back to the village.

The two of you walked back to the castle in silence for the most part. At least until–

“I don’t care what people think about me spending time with you,” said James, finally figuring out what he’d said to upset you before Severus. It made you slightly emotional that he’d cared enough to keep pondering it. “Meaning, I’m not talking to you just because you’re pretty.”

You swallowed hard.

It was that comment out of all of them that haunted your mind for the rest of the night, even after you were back in the Tower and sequestered in your room.

If James wasn’t talking to you because of your looks, then why was he talking to you?

“You shoved me down the stairs,” you said to Lily the next morning at breakfast.

Unconcerned with this attack on her character, Lily buttered some toast. “He caught you, didn’t he?”

You snatched the piece of toast from her, taking it for yourself as recompense. “What if he didn’t?”

Lily rolled her eyes. “Potter can catch a ball the size of a cantaloupe being flung around a stadium while flying on a broom. I was pretty confident he’d catch you, Y/N.”

You scowled, taking a bite of Lily’s toast. One of the books James had bought you was sitting on your lap, not that you were going to tell anyone who’d gotten it for you.

“What happened to loyalty?” you challenged.

Lily rolled her eyes again. “Will you just tell me what you’re actually upset about so that we can spare the theatrics?” asked your best friend.

You scowled even more. You’d known Lily for far too long. She knew you too well.

Admitting defeat, you looked around to make sure no one else was listening. Then, you leaned in to Lily. “I think I… like him,” you said lamely.

Lily set to work buttering another piece of toast. “Congratulations, you are officially the last to know.”

You smacked her with your book. “Rude. I meant as a friend.”

Lily shook her head. “Just be careful, Y/N,” she said, taking all of the relief you’d felt admitting your feelings and deflating it. “He’s a decent enough person, but he’s also…”

She didn’t need to say it. “Yeah, he really is,” you said. Then, against your will, your eyes traveled over to where James was having breakfast with his friends. He was prodding Lupin with his wand, laughing as sparks shot out the side, turning Lupin’s sweater pink.

“Idiot,” you said to yourself, but you couldn’t stop staring.

You were very aware of his absence in the common room that night. You had purposefully positioned yourself by the fireplace with the book, just hoping he would show up and talk to you. But James– and all of his friends– were missing until late at night.

Just when you were giving up to head upstairs, you heard someone stumble in the portrait hole. Multiple someones.

“Y/N!”

That was James. He stumbled over to you, supported by a laughing Sirius Black. He was very clearly drunk. This would have annoyed the living shit out of you just a week prior, him flaunting school rules, but now you found yourself taking in his rosy cheeks, the gleam in his eyes. He looked good. Too good.

You closed your book. “Potter,” you said, forcing yourself to sound clinical, feeling Remus and Sirius staring between the two of you.

James shook his head. “No. You call me James,” he said.

“I’ve called you quite a number of things in my years at Hogwarts,” you said. “Most of them derogatory.”

James shook his head again, too drunk to process the insult you’d nervously supplied. “I like it when you call me James.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing at how adorable he sounded. “Because it’s your name,” you said.

James groaned. The sound went straight to your gut, but you pretended it didn’t. Sirius helped sit James down, then said, “She is right, mate. It is your name. Unless you’re so tossed you’ve forgotten that.”

“How did the three of you even get alcohol in here?” you asked, curious.

Remus and Sirius exchanged looks, like they had some big secret. But it was James who said freely, trustingly, “We know how to get into the kitchens.”

That was right. James had offered to steal you food from the kitchens before.

Sirius threw his hands up. “So you’ll just tell some girl– sorry, Y/L/N– all the secrets now, then?”

You weren’t offended. You were just some girl. And this didn’t hurt you the way it probably should have. How could it, when James was drunkenly staring at you like you’d hung the moon?

Remus read the energy between you and James sooner than Sirius did. He excused himself to bed, which then gave Sirius the hint to do the same. Before you knew it, you were alone with a drunk James.

The boy looked at you with stars in his eyes. “You’re so pretty,” he said, almost to himself.

You felt yourself get embarrassed. “You’re pretty, too,” you said, to be polite.

James groaned again, sinking back in his armchair. “You don’t understand it at all,” he said. “I drank it all because you don’t understand.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, didn’t know what that meant.

James’ eyes trailed over you, over your pajamas. You’d worn your cutest pink pajamas to impress him, back when you’d been hoping to see him tonight. They had little strawberries on them.

James’ eyes lingered on your bare thighs. “Read your book to me,” he said hoarsely, almost as if to distract himself.

You found your hands moving, lifting the book up, opening it. You just opened it to where you’d left off, but you hesitated as you saw the text. You could still feel James’ gaze on you.

You had the sense that this was a turning point. This was an important moment, and what you did in this very second would determine things moving forward. You remembered Lily’s unspoken warnings about James, but you didn’t care. This was just friendship, right? Weird friendship.

You swallowed hard and read, “Adara knew her knight. She knew his soul, the temperament of his character. She trusted him with her soul, and no cold, pompous prince, no restrictive tower, could steal that from her. Despite everything, she chose him. She would always choose him.”

You found yourself unable to keep talking.

It probably wasn’t the type of passage James had been expecting when he’d asked you to read aloud, but not every part of a romance novel was smut. The romance parts were just as important in leading up to satisfying pleasure as any other.

But James didn’t complain. In fact, for a long moment, he said nothing at all, and you suspected he’d fallen asleep. Then, suddenly, he said, “Why d’you read them?”

You looked up from the safety of the book, startled. “What?”

James’ eyes were burning, liquid ochre. “The books. Why d’you read them? You said it was better than snogging any of the boys here, but you haven’t tried.”

“You don’t know that,” you said, flustered.

“Yes, I do.” His eyes wouldn’t leave yours, captivating, holding.

You felt yourself start talking. Maybe he wouldn’t remember in the morning. “It’s just easier than getting hurt, I guess.”

James moved closer to you, moving until he was out of his armchair and kneeling before you. “’M not going to hurt you.”

Your breath caught in your chest. “James–”

“If you won’t have me because I’m immature and I play jokes, I understand,” said James, softly taking your hand in his. “But if you’re frightened of me, if you’re scared I’m going to hurt you–”

“I know you’re not going to hurt me. I’ve never thought you were that kind of man,” you said, and you were surprised to know you meant it. Sure, you had thought him immature, but cruel? Harmful? “But, James–”

“Do you want me?”

He held your hand in his, and his eyes captured yours. You couldn’t breathe.

“It’s not that easy,” you said, pained.

“Isn’t it?” asked James softly.

It was all too much. You felt yourself shoot to your feet, jarring James. “I have to– to go to bed,” you heard yourself say. Then you darted away from him, your heart racing.

“Y/N–” James tried to come after you, but he was too drunk to catch you. You darted up the stairs to the girls’ dormitory and hid in your bed.

It took at least an hour for your heart to stop pounding.

James wasn’t in potions the next day. Slughorn didn’t even notice, but Severus sure did. Lucky for you, Lily had her old spot next to you back, and not even Severus Snape was stupid enough to come over with both you and Lily brandishing your wands.

“Clever of him,” Lily remarked as she helped you pack up your kit. “I’ve been dying to practice my Stunning.”

Absently, you nodded.

You wanted to focus on what was going on, you did. But all you could hear was James’ voice saying, Do you want me?

You felt shivers through your entire body. Lily noticed you shudder, but she didn’t comment on it.

If you won’t have me because I’m immature and I play jokes, I understand. But if you’re frightened of me, if you’re scared I’m going to hurt you–

Was he alright? He had to be hungover. Did he even remember what he’d said to you?

Or worse, you felt a horrible jolt in your stomach as you left the potions dungeon, had he just said it all to you because he was drunk?

That had to be it. How stupid were you to think that someone like him would ever pick you? You were the worst of all the girls in your house. Lily was gorgeous, smart, and brave. Marlene was pretty and bold, and Dorcas wasn’t anything to turn your nose up at, either. You didn’t have an inferiority complex, really. It was just that you were surrounded by so many wonderful women that you felt plain.

Don’t be silly, Y/N. You hated when romance protagonists wailed about how boys didn’t pick them. It was the number one most infuriating thing for you to read, even more infuriating than that one author who had called a man’s dick his “velvet-clad love rod.” At least that had been funny.

You decided, instead of trying to check on a boy who was obviously too popular for you, you needed a pick-me-up. You’d been doing a lot of reading lately, but you had other interests, other things you enjoyed.

You contemplated asking Lily if she wanted to go for a walk with you, then you decided you wanted to go it alone. You excused yourself from her and then set out of the castle, into the grounds.

The fall air was crisp. Luckily you had the mittens James had bought you, and you quickly put them on.

You didn’t really have a destination in mind as you walked the castle grounds. The air smelled earthy and cold. Birds flew through the sky, going to warmer climates for the winter. Leaves crunched beneath your boots.

Eventually you ended up at the bank of the lake. You set your bag down against a tree and went to go skip rocks, because it seemed like the thing to do.

Just focus on yourself, you thought crossly. No more of this James business. He’s only being kind to you because he thinks you’re weird.

Not that you’re weird. You’re a great individual. A real treat.

You threw a rock into the lake with a big splooshing sound. Now you were just irritating yourself.

You were already annoyed, so of course he appeared.

“So he’s let you off his leash, Mudblood?”

“Oh my God, do you have anything else to do, you absolute bitch ?” you said before you’d even turned around to face him. The Muggle exclamation came out naturally. You glared at Severus. “Were you just following me around?”

Severus regarded you stiffly. “I saw you from the castle windows.”

You threw a rock at him. “Leave me alone.”

Severus used a Shield Charm to keep the rock from hitting him. “I’m here to offer you a proposition, Y/N. Something someone with your lineage is lucky to be offered.”

You wanted to throw another rock at him, but you held back. “What do you want,” you enunciated.

“Since Potter has clearly tired of you–”

You flung the rock at his head. Severus dodged, but you weren’t done. You whipped out your wand and advanced, hissing, “What would you know about it?”

Severus didn’t seem threatened by you. He barely backed up. “He can’t possibly see you as anything other than an object.”

“You don’t know anything about him. You’re not even the same species,” you said hotly. You were vaguely aware that there was another presence nearby, someone else, but you didn’t care.

“James Potter is a degenerate jock bully with no interests other than fucking and conquest,” said Severus, glaring over your shoulder at something.

You wished you had more rocks to throw. “Have you ever even met him? Like, seriously and genuinely met him. Yeah, he plays Quidditch, and he dates girls, but he’s nothing like that. He’s nicer than you, that’s for sure.”

Feeling as though you’d made your point, you turned on your heel to retrieve your bag and storm off, but when you did, you came face to face with James himself.

The other presence, you thought stupidly.

James’ eyes trailed over you for a second, making sure you were okay, before his gaze hardened and he looked over you at Severus. “Why is it that I keep finding you propositioning my girlfriend, Snivellus?” Girlfriend. “She doesn’t do charity work, and if she did, I reckon she’d start with shifts at St. Mungo’s before pity-fucking Slytherins.”

Your stomach was in a knot. You couldn’t help yourself– it was sudden and all-encompassing like a gravitational pull. You collapsed into James, burying your face in his chest.

James’ arm wrapped around you, and it felt like home, like safety.

You could feel Severus’ eyes on you.

“Go on,” said James, his voice hard. “Either try to hex me or run away like the coward you are. Just know that I am not a patient or forgiving person, and I will be even less forgiving if you bother my girl again. Maybe it comes from being a degenerate. You think I’m a bully now? I can show you a bloody bully .”

You heard Severus curse under his breath, then his presence seemed to dissipate. You didn’t pull back from James’ chest.

“He’s gone,” said James, his mouth against your hair.

You still didn’t pull back. “I came here to make myself feel better,” you said, trying to explain yourself, the sound muffled against his chest.

James wrapped both of his arms around you, crushing you against him. “About what?” he asked gently.

You, you wanted to say, but you couldn’t.

Instead you said, “I meant it, you know. What I said about you to him.”

James’ grip tightened on you. “You don’t have to defend me, Y/N.”

That made you pull back. You looked up at him, confused. “You’re not anything like what he says. You’re not some– some mean jock.”

James raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that what you thought about me, though, honey?”

You felt your cheeks heat. “... yes,” you said, not seeing the point in denying it. He’d called you honey. “It is. But you’re a lot… nicer than I thought you were.”

And sweeter. And softer. And gentler.

“And I defend my friends,” you added.

A flash of something went across James’ handsome face. You thought it was pain, so you asked, “Are you alright? You must have drunk an awful lot last night. I was worried about you today. I figured you were resting.” You frowned, a thought occurring to you. “How did you know I needed you just now?”

James’ fingers traced idly down your spine. The simple gesture almost had you combust. “I saw Snivellus booking it out of the Great Hall after you.” He paused. “You needed me, huh?”

Your cheeks heated. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“My massive head?” asked James, grinning.

“That’s the one,” you said.

After that, the two of you were inseparable. It quickly became the talk of the house. Lily protected you from most of the gossip, but she couldn’t help you all of the time. You heard whispers as you sat in the common room while James was busy with practice. No one was bold enough to say anything directly to you, but that didn’t stop them from gabbing.

“What he could possibly see in someone like that,” muttered a third year. You were tempted to tell her it was past her bedtime, but you were of the personal belief that anyone who had animosity towards a child was a sad person indeed.

“I know. Look at her. And she’s always reading those books–”

You bit the inside of your cheek, tucking your nose back in your book. Just read the book, Y/N. Just focus on that.

But they wouldn’t stop. They stepped even closer to you, still gossiping. “ I heard she has a thing for Snape.”

Alright. You could be sad. You could be the saddest person around.

You went to tell off the children, but the second you put your book down, you just felt sorry for them. “Look, I’m not dating James or Snape, and you really should mind your own business and do your homework.”

The third years glared at you. “Why else would he spend time with you ?” said the shorter one.

For a second, you wondered if James was going to show up and save you from this like he’d saved you from so many other things. But you quickly realized that sometimes you needed to save yourself.

“I don’t know,” you said, sighing. You closed your book. “Really, I don’t. I’m sorry if that upsets you. If you’re that curious, ask him yourself.”

“Talk? To Potter?” the taller one looked stunned. “Oh, no. He’s too– too–”

“He’s really not that scary,” you said to her, still feeling sorry for her.

You didn’t know why you were comforting them. Maybe it was because for the past seven years, you’d judged someone for superficial reasons– James. Maybe this was the universe getting back at you. “I take it you girls follow the team?”

They had on their Gryffindor scarves, and one of them was holding a book on Quidditch.

“Why are you talking to us?” asked the shorter one awkwardly, moving closer to you. “We were… we were talking about you.”

You sighed again. “Yeah, I know. But you’re just third years, and I was also a bit of a brat in third year. I think everyone was.”

“You can’t have been. You don’t ever do anything,” said the taller one. She saw the look on her face and she grimaced, moving closer to you, too. “Sorry. It’s just everyone knows you as the quiet upperclassman who reads all the time.”

“I am the quiet upperclassman who reads all the time,” you said. “I just also happen to be friends with James.” You looked at the girls. One had pale hair and pale skin. The shorter one had dark skin and curls. They were both pretty. “What are your names?”

The shorter one looked abashed that you were being nice to her. They gave you their names, then the short girl said, “I’m sorry we were talking about you. I didn’t know you were nice.”

“It’s alright,” you said gently.

Behind you, someone cleared their throat. You looked up to see Sirius Black standing there, watching the scene. You didn’t know how long he’d been there.

The girls hadn’t seemed to realize he was there, either. They scurried up, saying goodbye to you and hurrying away, up to the girls’ dormitory.

Then you were alone with Sirius.

The man sat easily down on the armchair across from you, as if you had invited him to. “Defused that situation, didn’t you?” he said.

“They’re just kids,” you said.

Sirius studied you. “Still,” he said. His eyes were on you. “Are you staying on for Christmas break?”

You felt yourself blink. Why was he asking you that? “My family will be out of the country, so yeah,” you said.

Why were you telling him that?

Sirius grinned. “Excellent. So is James, you know.”

Your stomach flipped. An almost empty castle with you and James Potter?

Sirius grinned wider at the look on your face.

Christmas break came, with it Lily asking you again if you wanted to come to her house for the holiday.

“Honestly, I’m fine,” you said, helping her close her trunk. Lily was a neat packer, so this went by quite smoothly.

You didn’t tell your best friend that you had very good reasons for wanting to stay on this holiday, all of them regarding a certain Quidditch player. The prospect of so much free time with James had your heart racing.

“Just, try to avoid him,” she said. “And if he approaches you, hex him.”

“I’m not going to hex James,” you said automatically.

Lily looked at you with exasperation. “Snape. I meant Snape.”

You felt your stomach drop. “Is he staying on, too?”

Lily nodded. “So you need to keep your wits about you,” she said.

You felt yourself frown. “He wouldn’t really attack someone on the holidays, would he?”

Lily didn’t respond. You already knew the answer.

After the train had taken everyone away from the castle, you wandered aimlessly down to the common room, the two books James had bought you in tow. You had absolutely no intention of reading– surely he’d be waiting for you?

But James wasn’t waiting for you. The common room was empty.

Slightly put-out, you took your place by the fire and cracked open your book. Minutes passed, then hours. You forgot the real world entirely, immersed into a half-stupid half-amazing book.

Her knight took her breasts into his mouth, one then the other, overcome with lust. Her nipples were hard with desire, and she moaned, her head falling back.

“Mine,” he said to her, claiming her, and her legs wrapped around him. She was desperate for relief.

“Well, that’s ridiculous,” you muttered to the book, thinking you were alone, lost in your own world from hours of reading. “If a man called me ‘mine’ during sex, I would smack him.”

“Noted.”

James appeared behind you, the portrait hole closing after he’d come in.

You felt your entire face flush.

James leaned over, reading the passage you’d been criticizing. “See, he’s doing it all wrong. He should be using his mouth for better things than claiming her, that’s for sure.”

“James,” you hissed, looking around even though there was no one else there. Your entire body was hot at what he’d said. You could feel his presence leaning over you, smell his fresh scent.

James reached down, taking the book out of your hands. He flipped ahead, then said to himself, “If this were you–”

“James.”

“– I would hex the man you’d done it with. There’s no way any woman could come like this.”

You felt your body turn around in the chair. You had every intention of snatching your book back, but he held it out of your reach.

“You’re such a bully,” you muttered resentfully, but secretly, your heart was racing.

James gave you a crooked smile. “Bet I could write a better book than this,” he said easily.

You scurried to your feet, snatching the book away from him. “Yeah, right.”

You started running away, even though you’d spent the entire evening waiting for him to arrive.

“Men have no idea what women want. That’s why we have to write male characters ourselves,” you said, almost reaching the stairs.

“Let me give you what you want, then.”

You froze.

Had he really just… just said…

Your entire belly was a lake of sultry fire. You were too frozen in place to look back at him in shock. “S-Sorry?”

You really genuinely couldn’t breathe. Your thighs brushed together, trying to relieve you.

James’ presence appeared behind you. He didn’t touch you. Not yet.

“Come to bed with me,” he murmured, his words brushing against your skin, tantalizing. “Show me what you want. Forget those stupid books. You don’t need them.”

“James,” you said weakly, “You don’t mean–”

“Of course I mean it.” Then his hand was on your wrist, pulling you to him, whirling your body so that you collided with his chest. You dropped both of your books. They clattered to the ground, instantly forgotten. “D’you really think I don’t want you? Still? You’re smarter than that.”

You couldn’t look at him, so you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to maintain some semblance of decorum when all you wanted to do was collapse into him.

“You’re just saying that because we’re alone here. You don’t have any interest in me,” you said.

James’ grip tightened on your wrist. “Bullshit,” he said. You were surprised by the vehemence in his voice, and you were startled into opening your eyes. Your eyes met with his, and your stomach flipped.

You turned your head to look away from him, but James caught your chin, forcing you to look back at his eyes.

“I’m mad about you, you book-loving maniac,” said James. His touch seared on your skin. “Why d’you imagine I’ve been following you around, buying you things, flirting with you?”

Your brain was struggling to function. “To piss off Snape?”

James didn’t laugh. “You really think I give that much of a shit what he feels? I don’t want to talk about Snivellus with you, Y/N. I want you. I’ve always wanted you.”

You were aghast. “But–”

James pulled you closer to him. You trod on some of your books, likely cracking the spine, but you didn't care. Not then. You were close to James, so close. He only needed to lean forward, then your lips would–

James saw where you were looking. “You want me to kiss you, honey, all you have to do is ask me.”

“Bully,” you said resentfully, breathlessly. It was like someone had sucked all of the air out of the room. “Potter–”

James edged just a hair closer to you, both of his hands now gripping your wrists, keeping you from running. Your hands rested against his chest. You inhaled.

“Ask me,” he purred.

“I– I can’t,” you said dizzily. “I don’t– I don’t just go around asking men to kiss me.”

James leaned forward, but he didn’t kiss you. Instead he nuzzled into your neck, and you let out a moan that you didn’t even have the presence of mind to be embarrassed about.

You went slack against him as the man’s mouth pressed kisses all over your neck. James’ arms had to snake around you, holding you up so you didn’t faint. You had always judged female leads who’d swooned. Now you felt more generous towards them.

You whimpered his name. Your hands reached up to thread your fingers through his hair. You had always longed to tug on his curls, to feel if they were as soft as they looked. They were.

“You can be as loud as you want, honey, there’s no one here,” murmured James.

You just gasped, feeling his lips press against your soft skin.

“ Ask me.”

“I can’t,” you wailed, desperate for him to touch you.

Your body moved against him. James smiled into your neck, saying, “Yes, you can, honey. There’s no one else here. C’mon and ask me.”

He was a bully to the end. You screwed up all of your nerve. You channeled all of those romance heroines, their bravery and their confidence. 

“J-James, please, please touch me,” you begged.

“And?”

“... and kiss me,” you pleaded.

James pulled back from your neck. You felt him press you up against the wall, and all of the breath went out of you. Then his lips crashed into yours, like he’d been waiting to kiss you for years, like he couldn’t control himself from doing it for another moment.

He wasn’t shy about it. When you gasped, shocked by the passion, his tongue dipped into your mouth, touching yours. Your knees buckled, and his hands caught you, propping you up against the wall.

You found yourself gasping his name when he pulled back, pressing kisses on your lips. Every touch on your skin was fire.

“James, James, please,” you whispered. 

“What is it, baby? Merlin, you’re shaking,” you heard him say. He pulled you over to the fire, and every inch of you was buzzing, alive. You wanted his hands all over you, inside of you, but you couldn’t figure out how to convey that.

James set you down on an armchair, and you stared weakly at him. He went to pull back from you, and your arm shot out to grab him. “Jamie,” you gasped out, the nickname coming as easy as breathing. His hazel eyes shot to yours. “Don’t go.”

James knelt by your chair. The fire roared beside you two, bathing both of you in its auburn light. He squeezed your hand.

“Alright there, honey?” he asked, his eyes taking you in. Your chest heaved. Suddenly you wanted your clothes off, off entirely. Why hadn’t you been doing this with him the entire time?

Slowly, mesmerized by his eyes, you nodded.

“Because if you want me to stop, all you have to do is tell me,” said James, tracing comforting circles on the back of your hand. You imagined him tracing circles around another intimate part of your body and felt your face heat.

You shook your head. “No. I don’t. I don’t want you to stop,” you managed to say.

James’ mouth quirked up. “You don’t, huh?”

His other hand rubbed lovingly on your thigh. The touch had the fire in your belly growing hotter and hotter.

“Tell me what you want, then, baby,” said James.

And you wanted to tell him. You wanted to beg him, but you didn’t know the words. You had spent all that time reading, but somehow you still couldn’t articulate what you needed from him.

“Just– please,” you said pathetically. You couldn’t look at him. James wouldn’t allow that.

The man took your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him. At the needy expression on your face, he cursed under his breath then kissed you again.

It was easy not to think while kissing James. He was very good at it, and the two of you had plenty of natural chemistry. Your stomach dropped, like you were flying, and you got lost in the taste of his mouth.

You didn’t care that this was hasty, that you would regret it, that he wasn’t fictional and he could utterly destroy you. You should have felt those fears, but you didn’t. You couldn’t– not with him touching you.

Then his hand slid slightly up your skirt.

It was like falling from a very large height, with no broomstick or cushioning charm to save you. You gasped against his mouth, jerking back into the armchair.

Your eyes met.

James was instantly apologetic, able to tell that you were freaking out from the deer-in-headlights look you had. “Y/N, I didn’t mean to–”

You scrambled to stand.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want him to touch you there. Merlin, you were fighting the urge to demand he take you next to the fireplace, that he touch you like that and more all night long. But there was a thought that entered your mind when he touched you there.

This is James Potter.

Not Jamie. Not just James. James Potter. You couldn’t trust him– he was too popular, too powerful. Too strong. Even if he did actually like you and not the challenge you represented, he would quickly tire of you.

James, concerned, reached for you. “Y/N, honey–”

“I have to go,” you blanched, and then you bolted, summoning your books into your hands and running.

You were up in the girls’ dormitory before you could properly think. The only thing you were aware of was that James couldn’t get up the staircase without it turning to a slide. You were safe here. Safe.

Did you really need to be safe from James?

He’s a loud, bullying jock who’s used to girls fawning over him, you tried to remind yourself.

But he had been so sweet with you. So kind. Outside of a few of the kisses, he hadn’t gotten anything from your tryst down there. And yet you were the one who had ended things, not him.

You clutched one of the books he’d gotten you to your chest, wishing you could go back to safe thoughts. But you couldn’t stop thinking about him. He had saved you from Snape several times. He’d bought you mittens. He’d bought you books.

I’m mad about you, you book-loving maniac. Why d’you imagine I’ve been following you around, buying you things, flirting with you?

Why would he say that? Why did he have to be so unlike what you’d thought of him? He was cocky, but only in a charming way. He was a bully, but he bullied assholes like Snape. And the sports thing… Well, it hadn’t been that bad to watch him during a game. It hadn’t been that bad at all.

You clutched the book he’d bought closer to you. Your head was spinning as you tried to figure out what to do.

What scared you the most wasn’t James at all. It was how you’d responded to him.

You’d wanted to offer yourself up on a platter to him from a few kisses alone. The fact of the matter was that didn’t want to be just one of the girls he’d dated.

There. You’d said it.

Restless, you turned over in your bed, still holding onto the book.

Were you stupid? Were you just another girl besotted with him? You had nothing against your classmates for dating him– hey, even Lily had– but you’d always thought you’d be more careful. You’d seen how hard it had been on some of the girls when things ended.

You didn’t need that. No, your life had been perfectly fine before he’d started talking to you. Why had he even started talking to you? Had he woken up and noticed you were the only girl in the entire castle he hadn’t dated?

You felt very kindly towards your classmates now. You weren’t above them, better than them, not that you'd ever thought you were. You were one of them now, and this was bad because you didn’t get school girl crushes. James had brought out something buried inside of you that you’d stored away your entire life.

Come to bed with me. Show me what you want. Forget those stupid books. You don’t need them.

“Oh, fuck,” you said to yourself in the dark.

You put off going down the staircase until well past noon. You knew he would be there, waiting for you; or, at least, you hoped he’d be.

But you quickly ran out of things to do in the tower. You’d finished both of the books James had gotten you by ten, and they just reminded you of what you’d done last night, besides. All of the love scenes just triggered the taste of him on your lips, the feel of his hand smoothing up your thigh.

Why had you even stopped him? Dignity, you supposed. You weren’t interested in being a conquest. You liked him. It would obviously mean far more to you than it did to him, and that wasn’t okay to you.

Eventually, though, you decided to grow up. You needed to have a conversation with him like an adult.

So you’d put on your cutest Muggle outfit (a skirt and a sweater), smoothed your hair down, then walked carefully down the stairs.

At first you thought he wasn’t there. The common room appeared empty, and you felt your stomach clench at the realization that he hadn’t cared enough to wait for you.

Why should he? you asked yourself meanly.

Then you sighed. You were hungry, so you might as well head down to the Great Hall for your troubles.

“Y/N!” James fell off the sofa entirely, waking from a dead sleep at the sound of your sigh. His glasses fell off of his handsome face, and he had to reach around on the carpet to try and find them. Once he’d jabbed the things back on his face, he looked at you.

You were fighting back a smile at his antics. “Hey,” you said faintly.

He scrambled to his feet. “I really didn’t mean for–”

“Are you hungry?” you asked, suddenly terrified of what he’d been about to say. You’d come down to talk like adults, but now you were insecure.

James looked confused. “Yes, but–”

“Come on, then,” you said, walking briskly to the portrait hole.

James followed you. The both of you exited Gryffindor Tower, starting the long trek to the Great Hall. You could feel his presence near you like static electricity. His curls were mussed from sleeping in the common room.

“Y/N, I–”

“I really don’t want to talk about it.” Your stomach was clenching, the feeling wretched. Best to cut to the chase. “I shouldn’t have let you do that. We both know that. It’s best we just… act normal, is all.”

James stopped walking, triggering you to stop as well. “Potter?” you asked.

The look on his handsome face was unreadable. “You called me Jamie, you know,” he said quietly.

You felt your face burn. You looked quickly away from him. “Well, I wasn’t in my right mind.”

You started walking again, hoping he’d stay there and leave you be.

He didn’t.

“You weren’t in your right mind,” repeated James, lowly. You thought you heard a bit of fire in his voice, but you didn’t look back to see. “Why is that? Because I’m that– that awful–”

“You’re not awful,” you said, your heart racing. “I think you’re good. Genuinely good. It’s just that– well, I don’t do stuff like that.”

James caught up with you as the two of you waited for a staircase. “Maybe you should,” he said.

You looked up at him on instinct. “Sorry?”

James’ hazel eyes were like gold, like earth, like magic. “Do ‘that stuff.’ With the right person, of course,” he said.

You felt yourself raise a brow. “With you, you mean?”

James didn’t give you that rakish grin that you’d expected. “With me,” he said seriously.

Your heart floundered. “J-James, I don’t–”

The staircase came, and you hurried away. Not because you were scared of him touching you, but because you were scared of you touching him.

James still followed you. “You reacted to me,” he said.

“I assume it’s just because you know what you’re doing,” you said, not looking at him.

James still didn’t grin. “It’s different with you, Y/N,” he said quietly.

Your heart squeezed. No, not that. He couldn’t say that. Not when you were trying so hard to be strong.

Luckily, you were saved from answering as you reached the Great Hall.

You excused yourself to have some toast and eggs, thinking you would be left alone in the grand mass of students. But of course the replacement table, with much fewer seats, was there for the break. James sat directly across from you. The two of you were alone in the Great Hall.

Fantastic.

“Y/N–”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it, Potter,” you said, feeling your panic rising.

“I just want to know why I scare you, honey,” said James, his voice like velvet, soft and seductive. You didn’t even think he was trying to seduce you. That was just how he sounded. “I don’t want to scare you.”

You were flustered. You started spreading jam on a bagel, saying, “I’m not scared of you.”

James studied you.

“What?” you snapped, all of the stress of the past twenty-four hours catching up to you.

James was gentle as he responded to you. “I don’t believe that at all.”

You stared at him, your knife halfway to the bagel, jam ready to fall off of it.

“You have to hide in those books for a reason, Y/N,” he said.

You felt your face heat. “You don’t know me,” you said, trying to push him away for reasons even you didn’t understand. Maybe you just didn’t want him to figure you out.

If he hadn’t already.

Before you could magically manifest an answer, the door to the Great Hall opened.

Oh Merlin, anyone. Literally anyone, I’ll take anyone else–

Severus Snape stalked to the table, setting down his bag directly beside you. You were too stunned to say anything.

He loomed over you like Dracula, his presence dour and moody.

“Oi,” said James, his voice no longer gentle. You could only hear that cocky tone that you’d heard for the past seven years. “Get away from her.”

Snape glared at James. “I can sit wherever I please. Unless His Majesty decrees otherwise–”

“I do decree otherwise, thanks,” said James, twirling his wand above the table as an obvious threat.

Snape ignored him. He turned to you.

Oh great, you thought. Here we go.

“I expected better of you. I thought you were a high quality female– well, for a Muggleborn. You seemed smarter than the rest. I guess you’re all just mindless wh–”

“Do you want me to stab you?” you demanded. “ Please don’t make me stab you.”

Snape surveyed you with obvious dislike. “I guess you think you’re lucky to be Potter’s bitch.”

You moved to stab the butter knife into him, consequences be damned, but you didn’t have to. With a blast like a canon, the hex went off, knocking Severus several feet back from the small table. The man knocked his head against a wall, but that wasn’t what you focused on. He was clearly trying to speak, but his lips were stuck shut.

James stood tall over the table, his wand still at the ready. “I’d dare you to call her that again, but you can’t,” he sneered. Severus glared. “Since you’re so brilliant, you should be able to do the nonverbal countercurse yourself.”

You stared between the two of them, shell-shocked.

“C’mon Y/N,” said James, taking your hand and dragging you out of the dining hall. As he was dragging you through hallways and staircases, all the way back to Gryffindor Tower, James spoke lowly. “Tell me not to go back there and dangle him from his feet until his head explodes.”

Your heart was racing. “He, uh, would probably add it to his grand list of reasons why James Potter is an Evil Bully and Severus Snape Has Never Done Anything Wrong Ever.”

James laughed humorlessly, his grip on you still strong. “Keep talking, Y/N.”

You floundered for something to say. “Well, you, uh, defended me?”

James’ grip tightened, if that was even possible. “’Course I defended you.”

You tried to keep babbling. “I know I’m not your bitch. You know I’m not your bitch. And… and… You know, it’s really hard to think about anything when you’re touching me, James, so this really isn’t fair–”

In one movement you were slammed against the wall, knocking portraits off of their hooks, James’ mouth colliding with yours.

He tasted like coffee from the Great Hall, and you instantly felt your body give over to him. You melted, pliant and supple, ready to be maneuvered however he wanted you. You kissed him back as best you could, dizzy as you were.

Then, abruptly as he’d kissed you, James jerked back. You tried to chase after him, desperate for his kisses. He saw. Lust darkened his eyes.

He grabbed ahold of your wrist and started dragging you up the stairs with renewed vigor. He made sure you didn’t trip, guiding you past trick steps and such.

Then, before you knew it, the two of you were in the Gryffindor common room, and he was kissing you again.

“I don’t think you’d be able to believe how much I want you,” he said roughly, claiming your mouth with harsh but passionate kisses.

“Try me,” you whispered.

James groaned, gently pushing you onto the sofa by the fire, shrugging his sweater off of his body, revealing a tank. He still had really nice arms, you thought stupidly to yourself before he was kissing you again.

James knelt by where he’d pushed you on the couch, kissing you with a frenzy, with fire.

“James,” you pleaded against his mouth after a minute of this. You needed more.

“That’s not what you call me, love,” said James, pressing kisses down your neck, pulling your sweater aside so he could kiss your collarbone.

You preened. “ Jamie,” you pleaded. James groaned again.

“Take off your sweater, honey, please,” he begged.

You struggled out of your sweater. James couldn’t seem to be able to wait for you to peel it off yourself; he helped you pull it off, and then he fell over your chest, pressing kisses to your breasts, which were covered by your bra.

You begged for him. You tried to sit up, to take off his shirt, but he kept pressing you down. Finally, you made a noise of frustration.

“You have to be sure, baby,” he said.

“I’m sure,” you said petulantly. “I want you.”

James kissed your throat, making your breath hitch. The fire roared beside you two, warm and romantic.

“You think I’m going to hurt you,” said James.

You shook your head desperately. “I don’t. I know you won’t. I know, Jamie.”

He didn’t seem able to resist the nickname. He finally allowed you up, and your hands were shaky as you tried to take his shirt off. He caught your wrists, pressing kisses to your shoulder.

“Don’t be scared,” he said.

“I don’t want to do it wrong,” you said, tears beading in your eyes.

“Mm.” James crushed you against him, his face in your hair. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you, do you?”

What did that mean? “Since you– since you started talking to me about my books?”

James laughed, the sound a bit bitter. “No, honey. A lot longer than that.”

Your heart raced as he started to slide his hands up your thighs, up your skirt. He’d wanted you for more than that? You’d had no idea. You’d been too busy thinking he was abrasive and obnoxious.

James’ hands gripped the plush of your thighs, and you whimpered.

“ Please,” you begged.

“He won’t bother you again,” said James, still worked up about Snape. “I’ll kill him if he does.”

“I don’t care,” you wailed, desperate for his touch. His thumbs brushed circles on your inner thighs. You wanted to scream. “Just want you, Jamie. Only you.”

James made a noise. “Take off your clothes, Y/N.”

You scrambled to obey. Off came your skirt and shoes, and then you were just in your underwear in front of him.

Before you even had a chance to be self-conscious, James was pressing a line of kisses down your bare stomach, his arms supporting him as he leaned over you.

“So pretty,” he said, and you felt like the sun was shining directly on you.

You pawed at his shirt. “James, please.”

“Not yet,” he said. You wanted to explode in frustration, but you listened to him. You would always listen to him.

You squirmed on the couch as James’ fingers dipped into your panties, feeling your wetness. He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You’re this wet for me, huh?”

You were embarrassed. “I c-c-can’t help it,” you stammered.

James’ mouth met yours as his fingers dipped into your slit, swirling around your clit before teasing at your hole. You were surprised to feel yourself buck against his hand. You needed relief. You needed it.

“You’re gonna soak the couch, baby,” said James against your mouth.

You moved your hips, desperate for friction. “I want you,” you said.

“And you’ll have me,” said James, soothing. “Let me just touch you first, baby, I’ve wanted it for so long.”

You mewled as you felt him circle your clit. You said his name, breathy. You couldn’t imagine ever not wanting him, couldn’t imagine ever feeling anything but love and admiration for him. Still, he kept saying he’d wanted you for so long.

“H-H-How long?” you managed as he caressed you.

“Hmm?” He was teasing you. “‘How long,’ what, baby?”

He was impossible. As you began to speak, he brushed against your clit, making you cry out in the middle of your sentence.

“You just have to ask me, honey,” teased James, pressing more kisses on your forehead.

“How long have you– you wanted me?”

James toyed torturously with your clit. “’Bout as long as I can imagine. Thought dating Lily would get your attention. You just thought I was a prat.”

You couldn’t breathe. James brushed against your clit again, and then you were soaking your panties, crying out as you came.

Your legs shook, but there was no time to recover. James was instantly kissing you, covering your body with his. He yanked your panties down, throwing the damp fabric onto the rug. His hand expertly unclasp your bra, and then that was gone, too.

James fell over your naked body, worshiping you. It was like a romance novel, but it also wasn’t. It was so much more than reading the words had ever made you feel. He was so much more.

It wasn’t fair that he was still clothed. You tugged at his shirt again, and this time he laughed, saying, “I suppose it’s fair that I take this off, huh?”

“ Please,” you said.

James nuzzled into your neck, pressing kisses all over your skin. “You’re so beautiful. So fuckin’ pretty.”

Then he leaned back, pulling his shirt over his head.

Your hands found him instantly. They traced down his abdomen, and you whimpered, you whimpered at the feel of his muscles. You stared down at him, in awe.

He was so pretty.

There wasn’t time for you to stare. James fell over your bare breasts, moving from one hardened peak to the other, the sound of him releasing your breasts with his mouth obscene each time.

“So pretty,” said the man again. He took one breast in his hand, squeezing it gently, still suckling on the other one. You whimpered his name, your hand now going to his pants.

James pulled away from your chest. “You don’t have to, Y/N,” he said, but the sound was strained, and you knew that he would rather saw off his arm than stop.

You looked him in the eye. “ I want you.”

James groaned.

He let you unzip his jeans, and then he had kicked them off, leaving him only clad in his boxers.

“C’mere, honey,” he said, moving your body as easily as if he was moving a toy. You were laying back comfortably on the cushions of the couch, and you could see his hard length beneath his boxers.

You pulled him to you, not wanting to stop kissing him. James shed his boxers, and then he was pushing you gently back. You could feel the tap of him against your heat.

You cried out, so full of pleasure that you almost felt it couldn’t be real. He was something different from what you’d thought, for sure. He was everything.

“I’ll be careful, alright, honey?” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead again.

Your hand landed on his chest. “Okay,” you managed. It was hard to remember how to talk.

Then James started to slide into you, the tip sinking in and making both of you cry out.

James held onto the back of the couch, clenching his fist to keep from coming too soon. He was all you were aware of when he sank further in, further and further until he eventually bottomed out.

“Jamie, more,” you begged, your hands snaking up into his hair, gripping his curls. He pressed a kiss to your lips before slowly starting to move.

Your head fell back as he started to fuck you. Nothing had ever felt this good, not reading those books, not anything. James went slowly at first, then you clenched around him, and he said, “ Fuck, honey, I’m not going to be able to go slow if you keep doing that.”

You told him that you didn’t want him to go slow, and he groaned, “I’ve corrupted you, haven’t I?”

You clenched around him again. “Or I corrupted you.”

Perhaps in an effort to show you who was the most corrupted, James’ pace grew faster, more bruising. He sank deep inside of you, reaching that special spot that had you shamelessly wrapping your legs around him, begging for more.

One hand still anchoring him on the couch, James reached down to rub at your clit.

You didn’t last more than a few minutes with this. Before you could stop yourself, you were coming around him, calling out his name.

James’ pace grew more and more erratic. He pumped out of you one last time before burying himself in you and filling you. You were full with the sensation of him, both of your bodies sticky. For a moment, neither one of you could move.

Then James pulled back from you. He disappeared for a minute (while you basked in the sensation), then came back to wipe his seed from your legs.

The two of you didn’t get dressed immediately. After he’d finished cleaning you up, you dragged him back to the couch, snuggling your head on his shoulder.

“Jamie,” you said, staring into the fire.

James pressed a kiss to your temple. “Was it better than your books?” he teased.

“I don’t know,” you said. And when he looked affronted, you said with a grin, “I still have some ideas.”

By the time everyone came back to school, you and James had burned through several books, and you had no intention of stopping any time soon. Snape was disgusted, but he left you alone, doubling down on his hatred of James for anyone who would listen.

Lily was the one you’d been nervous to see after getting together with James. Would she think you were stupid?

“Dear Merlin,” she said finally as you helped her unpack her trunk from the holidays. “Finally you have someone else to take you book shopping. You know those books creep me out.”

You grinned. “They’re not that bad.”