#animagus!reader

James’ POV

“Pads, what the fuck!” James shifted back into his human form, scrambling to drag Padfoot out of the massive blackberry bushes he’d launched himself into. The run had been quiet, almost peaceful, just the two of them out for a moonlight romp to blow off some steam from the day.

Then, of course, Sirius buggered that right up.

Padfoot yipped and whined, the thorns pulling at his onyx fur, and flopped onto the ground beside it with a dramatic grunt. He quickly shifted back into a disgruntled Sirius, checking over himself for injuries.

“I didn’t know they were like…pointy!” Sirius huffed, relaxing when he realized he only had a few shallow scrapes. “Just wanted a fucking snack—”

“Of course they are—what is that?” A high-pitched clicking sound interrupted them. James crouched down, peering into the thicket of brambles and ripe, midnight purple fruit.

Something tiny and velveteen was trembling in a knot of thorns, it’s squeaks of discomfort barely audible. A wing fluttered out, delicate and leathery, a bead of carmine dripping from a hole pierced clean through the taught flesh.

A wee bat was caught in the brambles.

“Shit,” James cursed, tugging his sweatshirt sleeve down over his hand and shoving his arm socket-deep into the loathsome bush.

“What are you—”

“It’s alright, I’ve got ya’—please don’t bite me, please don’t bite me.” James wrapped his hand as gently as he could around the little bat’s body, feeling it’s heart fluttering rapidly in it’s chest. “Okay, there we go. I’m just gonna—fuck, ow, sodding thorns.” James brought the critter out as carefully as he could, making a concerted effort to keep his fist lax despite the thorns snagging his sleeve and jabbing into his forearm.

Once he had it completely removed from the bush, he slowly uncurled his fingers. The bat lurched upwards, flapping it’s tattered wings once, twice, then plummeted. James dove forward, catching the little thing just before it crashed to the ground, and cradled it safely back to his chest.

“Is that a bat?” Sirius asked, stepping closer.

“Must’ve been eating some fruit,” James muttered to himself, peeking open his fingers to peer at it. It blinked at him, eyes wide and dark as obsidian, the grayish fur of it’s snout stained with blackberry juice. It was trembling terribly, heart going a million miles a minute, and James knew he couldn't just leave it here.

Sirius looked stricken. “Shit, I’m sorry, mate.” he stroked a finger across the wing draped over James’ knuckles and the bat writhed in his hand, clicking disdainfully.

“Should we take it to Hagrid?” James asked, wincing when it’s thumb claw scratched across his inner wrist, uselessly trying to flap the injured appendage. Poor little thing.

“Poppy, probably. Hagrid’ll squish it.”

“Good point. Grab my scarf, will ya’?” Sirius tossed him his scarf from their belongings and James wrapped it as best he could around the creature, effectively immobilizing it, tiny head poking out from the top of the bundle.

“S’kinda cute,” Sirius said, leaning closer.

The bat loosed a vicious hiss, and he recoiled.

“Nevermind, christ.”

As quickly as they could, they hurried to the infirmary, the swaddled bat tucked into the crook of his arm, pressed against his chest.

“Boys! What one earth—” Madam Pomfry rushed to greet them at the door, probably expecting the worst given their history. “What’s that?”

“It got caught in a blackberry bush, tore up it’s wings…” he carefully unfolded the blanket, expecting the bat to try and fly away again, but it seemed to have exhausted itself, lying limply in his hands, breathing hard.

“Oh, dear,” Madam Pomfry tutted, taking the bat from him and setting it onto an examination table. “You poor thing.”

“It’s actually a bat,” Sirius joked, and she swatted him as she rushed past to grab some supplies.

“Have you nothing better to do?” Madam Pomfry bit, returning with a tincture and some stitching supplies.

“You know what, Poppy, I actually do. C’mon James, I bet the kitchens still open—”

“I’m going to stay—if that’s alright,” he said, glancing at Madam Pomfry. “Just to make sure it’s okay.”

“Suit yourself. Stay gorgeous, Pop!” Sirius blew her a kiss before making a swift exit.

Madam Pomfry began cleaning the scratches and tears along it’s wings and soft belly, and James was shocked to see how docile the bat had become. Relaxed even when Madam Pomfry lifted it into her hand to place a clean towel underneath it.

It was rather cute, almost puppy-like as it blinked up at him, nose twitching from the strong scent of the tincture, ears flicking this way and that.

“Dearie, I think it would be best if you changed back,” Madam Pomfry said gently, stroking the bats head.

James looked down at himself, confused. “To a deer?”

Suddenly, there was a flash of magic, one James knew all too well, and then there was a girl sitting where the bat was moments before, his scarf draped around her neck.

He reared back, stunned that not only was the bat an animagus, but an animagus he knew.

“Y/n?” He gawked, and you rolled your eyes.

“Potter,” you replied.

“You-you’re—you’re a bat?”

“And you’re a genius.”

He blinked at you, completely dumbfounded. A bat tracked, he supposed. You were quiet, a loner. He couldn’t remember ever seeing you with more than a friend or two, and you’d never attended a party. Really, he only ever saw you in his afternoon Charms class and in the library in the evenings. You hardly ever spoke, wrapped up in your own world.

He always had the distinct impression that you hated people, and now, staring down the barrel of your glare, he was certain of it. But saints, you were gorgeous. Death glare and all.

It then occurred to him that he’d had his entire hand wrapped around you not even ten minutes prior, and went hot under his collar.

James couldn’t remember the last time he’d been at a loss for words, but here he was, staring slack-jawed like a complete idiot.

“Perhaps you should thank him for saving your from that bush,” Madam Pomfry prodded gently, taking your arm to examine the gashes riddled there.

“Wouldn’t have been an issue if he kept a leash on his dog,” you bit.

James winced, guilt curdling in his stomach even though there was nothing he could have done to stop Sirius. The cuts on your arms looked bad, a deep and angry red, dried blood mixing with the purple stains on your skin.

How could he make this right?

Reader POV

You fought to hold your glare, but the pained look in James’ eye was rapidly unraveling your resolve. Of course it was James fucking Potter that found you. The golden head boy of Gryffindor, in all his infuriatingly handsome and tender-hearted glory, saved your dumbass from crucifixion-by-blackberries.

You’d almost rather be crucified than sit there for another second. The lights in the infirmary were too bright, the space too open, too sterile.

Why couldn’t you have been anywhere else tonight? If you had ever believed in good luck, you certainly wouldn’t believe in it now.

“Thank you, James,” you acquiesced, unable to mask the bitterness in your tone.

James smiled at you despite your tone, because he never stopped fucking smiling. “Thank you for not biting me,” he said, looking down at his palm—still stained with blood. Your blood. Because he had his hand wrapped around you. His giant, deliciously warm hand holding you ever so gently…

“Ow!”

“Sorry, dear. Just a few more,” Madam Pomfry soothed, having made the first stitch while you were distracted. Distracted by James fucking Potter.

You needed to get a grip. Him saving you doesn’t change anything. Sure, you would have been forced to stay there for eternity, or skewer yourself shifting back. But he was still James Potter, the embodiment of everything you despised most.

You hated Hogwarts, hated the crowded halls and musty rooms and catty students. You hated the classes, which either moved too slow or too fast. You hated the professors, with all their snobbery and favoritism.

Thus, you hated James. Because he not only loved the school, but the school loved him back.

Graduation couldn’t come soon enough. No more morning classes, no more roommates, no more James fucking Potter.

James seemed to sense your discomfort, his dark brows drawing together in concern. “Are you alright, though? Really?”

“Fine,” you hissed through gritted teeth, a headache blooming behind your eyes so sharply it rivaled the stitches you were receiving. You squeezed your eyes shut. Merlin, it’s too fucking bright.

You tried desperately to disappear into your mind, that secret garden where it was always midnight, always dark and quiet and safe, and escape for a little while.

“I suppose I’ll leave you to it then,” James said, sounding almost forlorn. Unsure in a way that was so unlike him, it made you open your eyes again. He shuffled on his feet, running a hand through his unruly black hair. “See you in Charms, then?”

You nodded, and he left without another word, glancing back at you a final time before the door swung shut behind him.

“James is a good lad,” Madam Pomfry said, giving you a pointed look. “Would do you well to let him in a little bit.”

You shrugged, and closed your eyes once more.

It wasn’t until you’d been patched up and sent on your way that your realized you still had his scarf wrapped around your neck, the smell of him, sun-dried laundry and cedar, lingering in your nose. You tucked it into the bottom of your trunk, telling yourself you’d take it to the be cleaned tomorrow morning.

The following afternoon…

You were dreading Charms, dragging your feet as you walked down the final corridor. You’d slept most of the day, your schedule being mostly afternoon classes, and the last thing you wanted to do was socialize.

Not that anyone talked to you, but still. Just being around other people was draining. Not to mention, James would be one of those people.

And sure enough, when you made your way into the classroom, you found James sitting next to your usual spot in the back corner, chatting animatedly with his friend Remus. The only one of his friends you found somewhat tolerable.

Of course, every other seat was taken.

James was dressed in his usual Gryffindor attire, a sweater vest and loosely done tie, white sleeves pushed up to show off the thickness of his sun-kissed forearms. Black slacks hugged his toned legs. Really, all of his clothes seemed just a fraction too tight over his Herculean build—saint’s sake you needed to get a hold of yourself. You were not interested in James Potter.

“There you are!” James chirped, and you groaned inwardly. You noticed the other students murmuring to themselves, wondering why James had taken an interest in you of all people, but James seemed oblivious to it. “How are you feeling?” He asked, pulling out your chair for you as you approached.

“I’m fine, a little sore,” you said, dropping into your seat and rummaging through your bag to avoid meeting his eyes.

“Goldenrod helps,” Remus said, giving you sympathetic look. “And chocolate.”

“I’m fine,” you repeated, setting your books on the desk, and Remus shrugged, bidding you both farewell before walking back to the boys usual spot by the sunlit windows. It made your preferred corner look like a cave in comparison.

Flitwick dove into the lecture before James could ask anything else, to your profound relief.

But then—“I brought you these,” James whispered, sliding a tin across the table and under your nose. He seemed almost…nervous? “They’re, ah—they’re blackberry scones.”

Oh, no. You felt your heart swell in real time as you reached for the lid, a current of electricity flying through you when your fingers accidentally grazed his. “Why would you—”

“Ms. y/l/n!” Flitwick scolded. “Pay attention!”

You quickly pushed the tin away, heat scorching your cheeks. “Sorry, sir,” you squeaked, ducking your head back down to your notes. When the lecture resumed, you shot James a rueful glare.

“Sorry.” He grimaced. “They might be rubbish, I’ve never really baked before.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Was this real life? James fucking Potter baked you scones? “James, you shouldn’t have—”

“I wanted to, as an apology for last night.”

“You don't have to apologize. I’d rather just forget it, honestly,” you admitted.

“Oh.” A flicker of hurt passed through his expression as he looked down, and you immediately regretted your blunt words.

You really were terrible in these situations, sucking the fun out of the room like a blackhole.

“Well, I’m glad to have properly met you,” he said after a beat, flashing you a toothy smile, dispersing the tension as quickly as it came.

You stared at him, perplexed. Your attitude had rolled off of him like water on a duck’s back. “Uh, thanks,” you said, painfully awkward, and stuck your nose into your book.

James’ POV

His palms were sweating, why the fuck were his palms sweating? And he couldn’t keep his hands out of his hair. And he wanted to keep talking, merlin, he felt like he could talk your ear off, but he held his tongue.

Talking to him seemed like the last thing you wanted to do, so he kept his mouth shut, not wanting to annoy you further.

You practically ran from him when class ended, and now, he was racking his brain for something he could have done to make you dislike him so much while sitting at dinner in the Great Hall.

There was something different about you, a depth in your eyes that piqued his interest. He was so used to people fawning all over him, tripping over themselves to talk to him, but you couldn't care less about who he was.

If anything, you seemed to like him less because of who he was. Which as driving him a little bit mad.

“You reckon he’s still thinking about that bat girl?” Peter muttered to Remus.

“Oh, absolutely. He was up at 5 a.m. baking,” Remus chuckled. “Spent the entirety of Charms today practically drooling all over her.”

“That's pathetic,” Marlene tittered, and it was enough to draw James out of his head.

“Fuck off, ‘Kinnon,” he said, flicking a chip at her.

“What's the obsession, anyways?” Sirius asked, his feet kicked up on the table, twirling his wand in his fingers. “It's not like you smashed her into a thorn bush.”

“No, I believe that was you,” James bit, avoiding the question, an ember of irritation flaring in his chest. He wasn't obsessed. Just…intrigued. “Have you even apologized?”

“To her human face? No,” Sirius said, looking a bit guilty. Then, he stood up on the bench, sweeping his gray eyes across the Great Hall. “I don't see her.”

“She's not here,” James grumbled, sounding more petulant than he probably should.

“She eats in the library,” Lily supplied.

James whirled around to face her. “How do you know that?”

“Because I pay attention to other people, you git.”

“C’mon, then. I have wrongs to right.” Sirius hopped down and grabbed his bag. James was already on his feet.

“You really shouldn't!” Lily called after them, but they were gone, Great Hall doors swinging shut behind them.

As they neared the library, James felt his skin start to heat, palms going clammy as his heart beat faster and faster. When they reached the doors, James nearly changed his mind, almost told Sirius they should just return to the Great Hall and leave you be, but his friend was on a mission.

Sirius pushed open the doors, startling the dozen students milling around at the front. “Any of you lot seen y/n?”

James felt his lungs shrivel in his chest. This was going to go badly, he could feel it.

“Padfoot,” he chastised.

“She's always back by the Forbidden Section,” a Ravenclaw offered.

“Cheers!” Sirius grabbed James by the elbow and dragged him through the crowd that had gathered and towards the Forbidden Section.

James had never felt so conspicuous in his life, and it made his skin crawl with aversion. Normally, he loved nothing more than being the center of attention, but he didn't want you to see him like that.

They rounded a corner, entering the darker, quieter part of the library, and sure enough, there you were. Curled up in an overstuffed armchair under a single, low-burning lantern, a book open in your lap and a scone in your hand.

You brought it to your lips, nibbling on the edge while your eyes drifted over the page, focused intently on whatever you were reading.

James had the strange realization that he'd very much like to be scone right about now, and felt his cheeks warm for the upteenth time that day. He scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to clear the image from his mind.

“There she is!” Sirius called, and you nearly jumped out of your skin. Though you quickly masked your surprise with irritation, lips pulling down into an adorable frown.

“Were you looking for me?” You asked, eyes flitting to James before quickly averting.

“We were, doll.” Sirius sauntered up to you, dropping onto his knees in front of your chair. You looked like you couldn’t decide whether to shift and fly away, or kick him in the teeth.

“Sorry to bother you,” James said, leaning against the bookshelf beside you. “Lily said you'd be here.”

“What, um, why exactly were you looking for me?” Your looked back and forth between the two of them, a small furrow forming between your brows, fidgeting in your seat.

“Prongs here was gracious enough to remind me that I hadn't properly apologized for hurting you.” Sirius patted James’ knee. “So, I am sincerely and deeply apologetic for body slamming you into an evil, evil bush.Can you ever forgive my inelegance?”

Your eyes widened, the color of you irises richer, more captivating in the low light.

Fuck, he was staring again.

“It's, uh—it’s okay, Sirius,” you said, glancing up at James again with a look he immediately recognized: help me.

Maybe you didn't hate him so much after all.

“Alright, mutt. You apologized, back off of her,” James said, sticking out his leg to push Sirius back a step. Your eyes melted with gratitude, and James’ heart lost its rhythm, beating slower as something foreign and liquor-sweet flowed through him.

“I vow to be more careful in my pursuit of late-night snacks.” Sirius stood up, crossing his heart.

“Just no snapping bats out of the air, yeah?” You said, a shy little smile lifting the corner of your mouth.

“Never,” Sirius promised, and you nodded.

“How'd the scones come out?” James asked, filling the small gap of silence.

You shot him another grateful look and holy shit, he could get used to that. “You only managed to burn some, so that's good.”

He smirked, thoroughly enjoying this more mischivious side of you. “I blame the ovens,” he said.

“Sure, James,” you chuckled.

He could jump for fucking joy. You laughed at his joke!

“That's impressive, considering it was the ass crack of fucking dawn when he made them,” Sirius teased, flashing him a malicious wink.

You pulled a face, nose scrunched up in faux disgust. “That's way too early.”

“Nocturnal type, hm?” James asked without thinking, mentally smacking himself. Of course you were a night owl, you were a bat for Godric’s sake.

“You could say that,” you giggled. “Most of my classes are later in the day.”

“Then you should study with us tomorrow morning!” Sirius said suddenly, and James groaned, ready to neuter him for being so uncouth. “We're going to meet here after breakfast to study for the Potions exam.”

“Oh, uh—” you started to pick at your nails, loosing your footing in the conversation as quickly as you'd found it.

“No pressure,” James added, seized by the need to alleviate your discomfort. “It’s just going to the four of us, Lily, and Marlene.”

“And Prongs will make more scones!” Sirius waggled his eyebrows.

It's decided; James was going to smother him in his sleep.

“Maybe,” you finally answered, avoiding James’ eye, and his heart sank.

Sirius nodded, apparently satisfied with how this disastrous encounter went. “Lovely. Now, if you'll excuse us, James and I have to, ah, hit the gym…for…Quidditch reasons.”

You raised an eyebrow at the obvious lie, but didn't comment. “Enjoy,” you said, sinking back into your chair and turning your attention back to your book.

James chased a cackling Sirius out of the library. “You're a terrible fucking wingman,” James hissed, smacking him on the back of the head.

“I know, that was god-awful,” Sirius snorted. “But, maybe you'll get to see her tomorrow? So not a complete failure.”

“Or, she’ll never talk to me again because I'm friends with imbeciles that send her to the infirmary!”

“I guess we'll find out!”

“Now, I'm actually taking you to the gym with me as punishment,” James glowered. He needed to work off some of this stagnant energy, too, his mind and body buzzing from that small interaction.

“No! Merlin, please—no!” Sirius cried as James hauled him by the hair down the corridor.

Reader’s POV

You lingered outside the library, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Were you really doing this? You couldn't remember the last time you hung out with more than a few people at a time, let alone in the morning.

But you couldn't deny that at part of you, a miniscule, insignificant part of you that barely garners mentioning, wanted to see James. And with James came his friends.

He'd been kind to you, saved you from certain stabbing, made you apology baked goods, the least you could do is show your face for one morning study session.

There was something about James that was hard to say no to. He was so genuine, so eager. Even you couldn't bring yourself to pop his optimistic bubble, no matter how ambivalent you felt towards most things.

He was making it very difficult to continue despising him.

You could suck it up for one morning to make him happy. And only because he saved you. You owed him. Not because you cared about him, his feelings, or his opinion of you.

Definitely not.

Before you could chicken out, you pushed through the doors and into the library. It was sun-soaked and bustling, energy humming along the walls and marble floors. The chandeliers cast rainbows across the space, brightening the countless rows of books. Dust hung in the air like glitter, and it was almost, almost pretty.

Already, your head was starting to ache.

It didn't take long to find James and his friends, James’ voice carrying across the quiet library.

“She gets headaches if it too bright! Help me or fuck off, Pads,” James said, his voice pitching with distress.

“You need to relax, James. Your stress sweat is stinking up the room,” Marlene teased.

“That is so not helpful,” James bit. “And I smell delightful, thank you very much.”

“Because you practically fumigated the dorm with cologne,” Remus retorted just as you stepped around the corner.

“I did not—y/n!” James nearly toppled off the chair he was standing on, dropping the robes he was trying to pin up over the window.

The whole group swiveled towards you, and your stomach dropped out.

“Morning!” They all chorused.

You managed a small wave. “Good morning,” you mumbled, kicking yourself for agreeing to this. What the hell were you thinking? You didn't belong here.

Then, James was beside you, dropping a brawny arm over your shoulders, the alleged cologne wafting over you like a summer breeze. Verdant and sunny. “I'm so glad you came,” James murmured to you as he lead you to an available spot on the less-sunny side of the table. His bag was sitting in the seat, though his stuff was cluttering the space directly next to it.

He'd saved the spot for you, knowing you'd prefer to be out of the sun.

“Me too,” you found yourself saying, butterflies tickling the underside of your ribs.

That's it, you've officially lost your mind.

James pulled the chair out for you and you sank into it, the shade enveloping you like a cool blanket, and you felt a little more at ease. The group immediately launched into conversation about classes and Quidditch, their ease quickly growing contagious as you worked on your Potions formulas. James was reclined beside you, apparently able to work on his essay while chattering endlessly, and you found yourself chiming in, laughing at his silly quips and lame jokes.

One study session turned into two, then three, then a week passed before you knew it. You'd spend the morning with them, studying in the library or common room, then James would meet up with you for dinner in the library after Quidditch practice, sometimes with Sirius and Remus in tow.

You hadn't given much thought to your new routine, brushing it off as a temporary anomaly, until Saturday morning, when you woke up two hours earlier than usual and realized there would be no studying this morning. A kernel of disappointment lodged in your chest.

You were starting to wonder why you disliked him, any of them, in the first place. They were kind, funny, and more welcoming than ninety percent of the other people you'd met at Hogwarts.

The kernel of disappointed grew into a boulder of guilt, crushing and cold, at the realization. Your comfort was a construct. You'd been so stuck in your own head, in your assumptions, that it hadn't occurred to you that maybe you were wrong. That maybe, way out of your comfort zone, you'd actually love it.

A soft knock sounded against your dorm door. You threw off your covers and wrapped the blanket around yourself before pulling open the door.

You were not expecting to see Lily Evans standing there dressed in shorts and a bikini top, a pair of sunglasses keeping her copper hair out of her face. She had a colorful bag slung over her shoulder.

“Morning, sunshine,” she chirped, smiling at you.

“Oh, uh, hey, Lily. What's up?” You pulled the quilt tighter around yourself. Merlin, Lily was beautiful.

“We're spending the afternoon by the lake and I was wondering if you wanted to join?”

“Who, ah, who’s going to be there?” You asked, tongue thick with anxiety.

“James,” she replied, green eyes glimmering. “And the others too, but who cares about them.”

“Well, I—I don't have a bathing suit—”

Lily pushed past you, dropping her bag onto your bed and rummaging through it before pulling out an adorable black bathing suit. “I had a feeling you'd say that. And before you start—” she held up a finger to shush your protests, “We can make it whatever size you need.”

“Lily—”

“Please? We really want you there. It's been nice having a sane person around,” she said, taking your hands. “And James was too shy to come here and ask himself.”

You snorted. “James Potter? Shy?”

“I know.” Lily nodded solemnly. “He's different with you—good different,” she clarified when your frowned. “He's baking, for Merlin’s sake.”

You giggled, warmth blooming in your chest. “Alright, you win.”

Lily grinned, clapping her hands together. “They're already there, so let's go!”

You quickly changed it the bathing suit and your one pair of shorts, fishing your sunglasses from the very bottom of your trunk.

“Oh, honey,” Lily purred, casting an appreciative eye over you. “He's going to combust.”

Embarrassment burned your cheeks, but deep down, you hoped she was right.

It was a gorgeous day, temperate and blue-skied, a rare, cloudless afternoon in Scotland. It seemed half the school was frolicking around the grounds, piled onto picnic blankets and playing football in the open fields, wildflowers dotting the hillside.

When your reached the edge of the lake, your traitorous eyes immediately found James.

Waist-deep in the blue water and sun-kissed, rippling muscles on display as he splashed around with Peter and Remus, dark hair slicked back and dripping onto his broad shoulders. He was practically glowing, a gilded God among scrawny teenagers, and your mouth went sandy.

Then, he saw you.

If you thought he was glowing before—Lily was right, the poor boy damn near combusted. His face shattered into an enormous smile, his glasses going crooked from the force of it.

“Y/n!” He called loudly enough to alert everyone in the general vicinity, throwing his arms out in surprise.

“Hey, James,” you laughed, giving him a timid wave. It felt like every eye turned to you, burning into your skin like the dazzling sunlight. “I'm just going to go set my stuff down,” you said to Lily, spotting a shady tree just by the water you could retreat to.

The tree was just wide enough to hide you from prying eyes, the shadow of its leaves a balm on your overheated skin. You'd only been outside for five minutes, and already you were floundering. Here you were, hiding away instead of running into the water with Lily, towards the fucking Adonis waiting for you.

“Hey, you.”

You jumped, whirling around to find James standing right behind you, rubbing a towel over his sopping hair. “Oh, uh, hey.” Merlin, he was even more beautiful up close.

“Lily dragged you out, huh?” He wrapped the towel around his waist, leaving his hair even wilder than usual.

“She did,” you replied, desperately trying to keep your eyes from wandering down his torso. “Said you were too much of a pansy to ask me yourself.”

James guffawed, head falling back on his shoulders as he laughed. “That witch,” he chuckled. “You didn't come just to humiliate me, did you?”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, you are the center of the universe.”

“Your universe, ideally.” He flirted, and your stomach flipped, somersaulting with your lungs and leaving you a bit breathless.

Thankfully, a screech from Lily being thrown into the water by Remus saved you from having to formulate a response. You turned at the sound, and your gaze snagged on a group of fifth years ogling James, and glaring daggers at you.

One of the girls shielded her mouth with her hand, muttering something to her friend while her eyes flicked up and down your body, and they burst out laughing.

Anxiety coiled tight in your chest, skin suddenly too tight on your body, the bathing suit suffocating. Everything was too bright, too loud, too open—

“Hey,” James said gently, his hands finding your hips and turning so his body was blocking yours from the girls. “Love, look at me. What's happened?” He bent down, trying to catch your eyes as they bounced around from onlooker to onlooker.

Fuck, everyone was looking.

“Them,” you mumbled, voice pitched an octave higher.

James looked back towards them, brows furrowed, and you made a hiss of protest, grabbing his chin and turning his head back towards you.

“Don't look,” you pleaded, crossing yours arms over your chest to cover yourself.

His confused expression twisted in consternation, guilt flickering in his eyes. “Look at me.”

You couldn't, too focused on the others.

“Don't look at them, look at me,” he said, a little firmer, his grip tightening on your hips. Your eyes flicked up to his, finding them molten, burning, pupils wide and dark. “Do you want to be here with me?” He asked.

Tentatively, you nodded. Unable to lie to him when he was looking at you, holding you, like that.

“I want you here with me too. More than anything.”

“James—”

“If you want to go back to your dorm, I'll take you myself right now,” he promised, voice trodden with sincerity. “We will do whatever you want to do. Just say the word.”

We will. The two words echoed in your mind, as tangible and concrete as your bat sonar. Whatever you decided, whatever you wanted, he was with you.

“I want to stay here,” you said, forcing yourself to hold his eye so he knew you meant it.

“Would you like to swim, or stay here in the shade?”

You hesitated, then— "Swim,” you answered.

He grinned, and one his hands skimmed across your hip towards your stomach. “That's a brave girl,” he cooed, and with a flick of his wrist, he popped the button of your shorts open.

Your mind went gooey as James helped you shimmy your shorts down your legs, letting them drop into a heap at your feet, tingles erupting over your skin in the wake of his hands.

“Brace yourself, sweetheart. Water’s cold,” was his only warning before he scooped you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and charging into the frigid water with you in his arms.

“James!” You shrieked as he spun you, the heat of his body a sharp contrast to the bite of the water reaching your ribs.

“Couldn't let you talk yourself out of it,” he hummed, one of his hands coming up to smooth the hair out of your face. Droplets of water ran down your neck, making you shiver, and his smile widened.

“Just don't throw me,” you warned, failing miserably at sounding stern.

He scoffed. “You're crazy if you think I'm letting you go now, love.”

Then, a giant arc of water came crashing over the both of you, soaking you completely in a blast of cold. James tightened his grip on you, sturdy enough to keep you both upright under the onslaught.

You sputtered and wiped the water from your eyes, cursing, only to find Sirius doubled over laughing.

“Hold that thought,” James said, carefully setting you on your feet, the water reaching your chest. He shot a withering glare at Sirius, and the tattooed boy straightened, eyes glinting with challenge. “You're gonna regret that.” And James lunged, tackling Sirius back into the water with an echoing splash.

You wasted the afternoon in the water, splashing and horseplaying until you were shivering, toes numb and fingers crinkly, cheeks sore from smiling.

James wrapped an arm around your middle from behind, catching you mid-yawn, the setting sun and the cold sapping the last dreggs of your energy. “C’mon, love. Your lips are looking a little blue,” he murmured, resting his chin against your shoulder.

“Why are you looking at my lips?” You chided lightly, turning your head so your nose brushed his cheek.

He chuckled. “Can't help myself.”

You let him coax you out of the water and onto the plush grass, and stretched out on your towel under the tree you scouted earlier, letting the warmth of the sinking sun soak into your chilled skin.

James sat beside you, his back against the tree and legs stretched long. “Never thought I'd see this,” he said, quietly enough you weren't sure if he was speaking to you.

“See what?” You asked, tilting your head back to peer up at him, dappled sunlight kissing his tanned chest.

“You stretched out in the sun like a housecat,” he teased. “Sunshine looks pretty on you.”

Affection curled in your chest, simpering and saccharine. “Thanks, Jamie.” You inched up at bit, resting your head on his lap and letting your eyes flutter closed, basking in the drowsy decadence of it all.

His fingers combed thorough your hair, untangling the knots sewn by the water, and drawing you deeper into oncoming sleep.

“But you look stunning in the moonlight too,” he murmured, fingertip tracing the slope of your nose, the curve of your jaw. “My little night dweller.”

It felt like a dream, sweet and simple and golden, and you couldn't believe how different your life looked with James Potter in it.

“Tell me something awful about you,” you asked, twisting to look up at him.

“Something awful?” He smirked, dropping his arm over your waist, thumb grazing lazily on your skin. “I snore in my sleep. I put too much sugar in my tea. What kind of awful are you after?”

You giggled, shaking your head. “Nevermind.”

“I’d think you'd find plenty awful about me,” he ribbed.

“You'd think,” you hummed, turning your face away so you didn't melt under the radiance in his gaze.

Quickly, you were succumbing to James’ charm, being drawn closer and closer to his gravity, a lonely moon caught in the heavy orbit of the sun.

You felt helpless to it, and that scared you more than anything. You didn't want to need him, to need anybody. It was so much safer to be on your own.

But you weren't sure you wanted safer anymore.

James’ POV

After that day by the lake, James was hooked. Trailing your scent, your energy, your presence like a starving hound. He couldn't get enough of you, and you were kind enough to indulge him. Things hadn't progressed further than they did that day, lingering touches and loaded glances.

Normally, James would dive head first into the deep end, but he found himself wanting to follow your lead. Relishing in the quiet in between moments as much as the more charged ones, content to just be near you, savor you in whatever capacity you'd allow him.

He was just grateful you'd let him in at all. It felt like a gift, a glimpse at something secret and deeply rare, and it was not a blessing he was keen to squander by indulging in his usual hedonistic impulses.

He was happy to tread lightly, to let you step out of the shadows one bit at a time. Patience was never a virtue of his, but for you, he'd find the strength.

A week later, James was late to dinner, Quidditch practice having run well over. Sweat and dirt still clung to him, his training uniform uncomfortable against his balmy skin. But he was fucking starved, the gnawing in his stomach eating away at his mood.

The only thing getting him through was knowing that you'd be there waiting for him. He hadn't seen you at all that day, and it was wearing on him much like the hunger. Leaving him raw and wanting.

He went to push open the doors to the Great Hall at the same moment Lily came dashing out of them.

“Lils?”

“James! What took you so damn long?” She grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him into the Hall. “I was just going to look for you!”

“Practice ran long, saints, Lily—what's up?” He registered the shouting in the next moment, Sirius’ booming voice echoing off the high ceiling. A crowd had gathered at the end of one of the tables, jostling and jeering. Slughorn was in the thick of it, trying to get between Sirius and whoever he was raging at with little success.

Then, James noticed you standing just behind Sirius, Remus hovering protectively at your side. You had a hand pressed to your mouth, the other arm wrapped around your torso. Tears were pooling in your pretty eyes, and the last shred of James’ patience severed.

He knew instantly what had transpired, had heard the mutterings in the hall, the gossip and the merciless chatter. He knew people were talking about the two of you, the Head Boy and Hogwarts' resident recluse, and he knew that it was wearing on you, despite the brave face you put on.

He just never thought anyone would take it this far.

He was across the Hall in a few long strides. He grabbed the bloke Sirius was screaming at by his hood and yanked him backwards, throwing him down onto the ground. “What do we have here?” James snarled, looming over the sniveling rat, his boot placed firmly on the pricks sternum to keep him from scuttling away. “Upsetting my girl, are we?”

“No, no! I, uh—”

“What happened, love?” James asked, looking over his shoulder to you, but you only shook your head, too upset to speak. His rage flared hotter. “Padfoot?” James tried again, turning to Sirius.

“Him and his buddies were crowding her, calling her mute—” Sirius voice broke, splintering with anger. “Asked if her tongue worked at all,” Sirius spat, glaring at the other two boys cowering behind Slughorn.

James turned his attention back to the roach under his boot. “Give me one reason why I shouldn't rip your tongue out and shove it up your ass?”

“Fuck, Potter! It was a joke!” He sputtered.

“Let’s see if it was worth the laugh, then,” James cocked his foot back, kicking the kid sharply once in the side, then again in the kidneys when he curled up to protect his vitals.

Too fucking bad.

James kicked him a third time, pain shooting up his shin from the force, but before he could drop onto him, imagining ripping the fuckers tongue out with his bare hands, breaking his face open under his fists, a pair of arms wrapped around his middle. They pulled back on him with meager strength, trying to tug him away from his groveling victim.

He immediately knew it was you.

“Stop, Jamie. Please stop,” you whimpered, your forehead pressed between his shoulder blades. “It’s done. It’s over.”

His hand rested over yours on his abdomen, his breath coming out in jagged huffs. He hadn't realized he was shaking with rage until he felt your steadiness pressed against him. Trying to hold him together.

“He hurt you,” was all James could think to say, the crimson pulse of anger still throbbing at the edges of his vision. No one fucking hurt you.

“And you hurt him back,” you murmured into his jersey, clinging to him like you were afraid he'd lunge again. Hurting him wasn't enough. He needed to ruin him, throttle him, beat him so badly no one fucked with you ever again— “It's over.”

James drew a deep inhale, trying to focus at your warmth against his back, your willowy fingers clasped under his. “It's over,” James repeated, fixing the perpetrators with a warning glare. “So apologize, and stay the fuck away from her.”

They all nodded, muttering apologies while scooping up their groaning friend and hurrying out of the Great Hall. Only once they were gone did you release him.

James turned to face you, guilt churning in his stomach and an apology on his tongue, but you were already half-way down the aisle, wiping angrily at your cheeks as you stormed out. Leaving James standing there, feeling as filthy inside as he was on the outside.

No, no, no.

He knew he shouldn't. Knew he should let you go, give you space so you both could calm down. But he ran after you anyways.

“Y/n!” He shouted, running out into the hall and catching up to you in a few long strides. “Hey, wait—sweetheart, please—”

“I can't do this James,” you blurted, spinning on your heel to face him, and he staggered to a stop. “I-It's too much.” You shook your head as tears rolled down your cheeks, like you'd come to some sort of decision in your head. “I thought I could, but I can't—I tried, I—I’m sorry.”

His mind was reeling, too cluttered with anger and adrenaline and panic to find the words to make you stay. “Baby, don't go—” He reached for you, but you took a step back, then another. “We can do this—” His fingers brushed your hand the same moment you shifted, rocketing off through an open window, disappearing into the dark night.

“No, y/n! Wait!” He cried, but you were long gone, leaving his heart cleaved in two, his soul hollowed out. “Shit,” he cursed under his breath, tugging hard at the roots of his hair. It wasn't enough. “Fuck!” He shouted, his fist connecting with the stone wall and making the nosy portraits scatter. Something cracked in his hand, but he could barely feel it over the agony in his chest.

“Prongs,” Sirius called, he, Lily, and Remus following him out onto the hall.

“I went too far,” James muttered, chest rising and falling rapidly, barely able to breathe through the crushing guilt. The sucking vacuum of emptiness you left behind.

“We all did,” Remus said gently. “Sirius whacked one of them in the head with a dinner plate.”

James loosed a wry chuckle, splintered and uneven, and shook his head. “I fucked this up, pushed her too far.”

None of his friends commented. The pity on their faces was answer enough.

“You can fix it, just—just give her some space,” Lily said, approaching cautiously. Like he was some kind of wild animal.

He stepped back from her, unable to bear their sympathy when he felt so wretched. “I'll see you later,” he muttered, turning on his heel and stalking away.

Reader’s POV

A week later…

Burrowed under your blankets, cocooned in the thick warmth of your own labored breathing, steamy from your countless shed tears.

You couldn't believe you had run off like that, skittish as a hare, spooked at the first sign of trouble. He'd stood up for you, damn near got himself expelled because some dip shits wagged their tongues at you.

But you couldn't escape the cloying tar pit of shame their words opened in your gut—what if they were right? What if all you were to James was a conquest? Another trophy for his display case?

It ate through you, sticky and dark and consuming, worsened by the guilt swimming through like a barbed alligator. Because how could you think that of him? How could you dismiss all you'd learned about his heart over the last few weeks so flippantly?

James wasn't like that, and he surely wouldn't have risked his Head Boy status for a meager hunt already halfway snared. He wouldn't treat someone like a consolation prize.

But…how well did you really know him?

Certainly not enough to expose yourself to the inevitable agony of trying to wrap your arms around the sun. He was James fucking Potter. He was everything. And you were bitter and lonely and lost.

You were better off here, saving all your romanticism for your inner life, rather than waste it on a fantasy.

“Y/n,” one of your roommates called gently, shaking your shoulder through the quilt. “You have some visitors.”

“I don't feel well,” you muttered petulantly.

“That makes two of you,” Sirius said, and your stomach dropped.

Slowly, you inched yourself out of the blanket, squinting at the golden sunlight filtering into the room. The air was decidedly cooler out there than in your little cave, and it stung your tear-scraped cheeks.

Sirius and Remus stood by your bed, the latter looking supremely uncomfortable.

“What do you want?” You asked, scrubbing a hand over your face to clear the cobwebs and crustys.

“Normally we wouldn't, ah, get involved,” Remus began, scratching the back of his head. “But—”

“But James is our best mate, and he's an absolute disaster,” Sirius cut in. “And clearly you aren't fairing much better.”

“So you've come to lecture me?” You bit, stung by his bluntness.

“No,” Remus said, glaring pointedly at Sirius. “We wanted to talk to you because—”

“Because we probably understand what you're feeling better than anyone,” Sirius finished.

You raised an incredulous eyebrow. “That’s presumptuous.”

“Perhaps,” Remus placated. “But we know better than anyone what it's like to be loved by James, and not really understand why.”

Your jaw clenched, a bitchy retort lashing at the backs of your teeth despite the glow his words stoked to life in your chest. James didn't love you. How could he?

Sirius sat on the edge of your bed, yet again completely unperturbed by your attitude. “James can be really fucking naive, and entirely too optimistic. Down right ignorant sometimes if I’m honest—”

“But he's also genuine, and loyal,” Remus interjected. “And it makes you want to, ah, redirect him, if you will.”

“You push him away because you don't think he understands what he's signing himself up for,” Sirius clarified. “Moons and I have done it at least a dozen times each.”

“And how is that relevant to me?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest, like that would stop them from seeing into your heart further.

“Maybe it isn't.” Sirius shrugged. “Maybe you actually do think he's a brute and hate him for defending your honor in front of the entire school.”

Ouch.

You shot him a loathsome glare.

“Or maybe you're scared shitless by how loudly he loves, so you bailed to try and protect yourself,” he shot back.

“And to protect him from you,” Remus added.

You shook your head, fresh tears burning behind your eyes. You hated how right they were, and how pathetic it made you feel.

“Look,” Sirius said, softening his voice. “We just wanted to say that it's worth it.”

You looked back up at them, their faces blurred with salt water, as the fight rinsed from your body like grime from a window pane.

Remus offered you a handkerchief. “It's vulnerable, and it's messy, but it's worth it,” Remus said. “He’s worth it.”

Sirius nodded sagely. “You just have to trust him.”

“It's not him I don't trust,” you murmured, ringing the handkerchief in your hands, Remus’ initials staring up at you in delicate silver thread.

Remus gave you a sad, knowing smile. “You have to trust yourself too.”

“Alright, that's quite enough sentimentality for one afternoon,” Sirius said, pushing to his feet and ushering Remus towards the door.

“His first match back is Saturday!” Remus called over his shoulder as Sirius herded him out onto the hall.

“We'll save you a seat,” Sirius said with a wink before closing the door behind him.

Their words echoed in your mind, ringing true despite the countless excuses you'd made over the last few days. Deep down, you knew Remus was right; James was worth it.

But could you love him the way he deserved with all your pessimism and anxiety and thorns?

Would it be so bad to try?

James’ POV

He didn't see you for two weeks after that, besides in Charms, where you kept your head down and refused to look at him. He returned to his usual spot beside Remus, wishing it was your warmth he felt instead of the afternoon sun.

Two weeks he sat in evening detention, staring out the windows and hoping to see your silhouette flutter past the moon. 14 days he was benched from Quidditch for his injured hand, remembering the way your soft skin felt under his rough palm. 336 hours he found himself without words, preferring the silence over pointless chatter. 20160 seconds he spent in his head, where you were still beside him, and you looked at him with fondness instead of fear.

Everyone was buzzing for his first match back on the pitch. But he felt disconnected from it all, like the James Potter they were talking about was someone else entirely.

He didn't want to be that James Potter, he wanted to be your Jamie.

He hoped the feeling would melt away once the match started, flying through the air always did wonders for his mood, but if anything, he felt worse. You weren't there to watch him, so what was the fucking point?

His mood reflected in his play, and so the match went on, and on, and on. In the sixth hour, the sun long ago set, the players were dead in the air, the stands listless. But Quidditch didn't stop until the snitch was caught or enough points were scored that losing team forfeited, and James hadn’t scored a single point.

His hand was aching, sore from disuse, and his captain was screaming at him. Even his friends looked disappointed, slumped against one another in their seats, where they hadn't budged for the entire game.

Something whizzed by, catching his attention. At first he thought it was the snitch, and lifted his hand to signal the Seeker, but then it flew by again. Zipping by like a little shadow.

He nearly fell off his broom when he realized.

You slowed a bit, fluttering around his head, the delicate breeze from your wings ruffling his sweaty hair.

“Hey, you,” he murmured, unable to stop the smile pulling the corners of his mouth. He reached out to touch you when you suddenly banked away, swooping down towards the goals.

You gripped the top of the largest hoop with your little feet, and dangled upside down from it, stretching your wings before wrapping them around yourself, like you were getting comfy.

The Hufflepuff Keeper spotted you and flew a bit closer, curious. James was about to shout for them to leave you alone when you loosed a wrathful hiss, flaring your wings, and the Keeper reared back, screeching about a flying rat.

“Potter!” King shouted at him, and he turned just in time to catch the Quaffle headed his way.

The Keeper was too distracted by you to guard the hoop properly, and James smirked.

“Potter scores ten points for Gryffindor!”

“Another ten for James Potter!”

“That's 50 points for Gryffindor, what a come back!”

The continued scoring seemed to re-energize the game, the crowd on its feet and roaring in approval. James couldn't remember the last time he enjoyed a Quidditch match so much, and it was all because of you.

“And the Seeker catches the snitch! GRYFFINDOR WINS!”

James whooped and cheered with his team, but he was searching the sky for you, his heart so full he thought he might choke on it. It seemed you were gone, though, as he had a feeling you might be, the excitement and cheering too much for your sensitive ears.

He landed heavily on the ground, his muscles exhausted from hours of staying airborne, and straightened to greet the crowd of Gryffindors that were pouring onto the pitch. But as soon as he did, he spotted you racing towards him.

“You did it!” You cried, throwing your arms around his neck as your body collided with his, making him stagger back a step.

His mind short-circuited, struggling to process what was happening. You weren't gone, you were here and wearing his scarf and…hugging him? In front of the entire student body?

Did he fall off his broom and hit his head? Because this had to be a dream.

He dropped his broom to hold you properly, one arm looped around your waist, the other holding your head against his shoulder. He squeezed as tight as his tired muscles could, burying his nose into your neck and drawing a long, greedy inhale.

“Couldn't have done it without you,” he murmured, fighting back the tears of relief pooling behind his eyes. You were here. It wasn't a dream, or a fantasy. You were real, solid and beautiful and trembling in his arms as the crowd cheered, confetti raining over your heads as fireworks popped in the obsidian sky.

You pulled your head back, cheeks streaked with tears and gave him a wobbly little smile. “I'm so proud of you, and I'm sorry for what I said.”

He shushed you with a peck on the cheek, then another on your nose, temple, the corner of your mouth—Merlin, he couldn't stop himself.

“I want to try again,” you said through water-logged giggles, fingers curling the hood of his uniform. “Please, Jamie?”

“Of course,” he said, caving to temptation and pecking your lips. “I’m yours,” he mumbled against your lips, and you grinned, kissing him again. You tasted like nectar and moonlight. Sweeter than any victory. And he let himself indulge, setting you on your feet so he could kiss you harder, deeper, drown in your winsome little sounds as you finally, finally, opened up for him.

The shadow to his sunlight, the moon to his tides, the other half of his heart, safe in his arms at long last.

“When did you see them last?” 

Sirius scratched the back of his neck as he thought. “Well, my rings went missing during practice two nights ago. But I had my watch on all day! I only took it off to shower.” 

Remus let out a sigh as he marked his page with a bookmark.

“Dove?” 

The room fell silent, only interrupted by the rustling of Remus’ bed sheets. 

“Baby, come on. Pads is trying to leave for his date.” 

With this, Sirius scoffed - half indignant, half amused - followed by a bashful little niffler sound from beneath the sheets as they continued rustling. 

“I should’ve figured.” Sirius said as he moved to stand at the end of Remus’ bed with his arms crossed. “This had Trouble written all over it.” 

A snuffling bill appeared from the edge of the sheets before a little purple head poked out. 

“Dove,” Remus said chidingly, “did you take Sirius’ jewelry?” 

You sat back on your hocks and wrung your little hands together. Remus almost broke at the sight. 

“Trouble.” Sirius continued, garnering your attention which saw you backing up nervously into Remus’ knee. “If you wanted something shiny, you only had to ask, yeah? I’d get a pretty girl like you whatever you wanted.” 

He offered you a cheeky wink as Remus called him a tosser. 

“Go on, cough it up.” He prompted, nudging you closer to his roommate.

You dug a hand into your pouch and pulled out his watch, seeming very disturbed at having to relinquish your treasure. 

“And the rings.” Remus continued, causing James to snort. 

“Oi, don’t you have head boy duties to get to?” Sirius barked at James with a smile. “Don’t embarrass the girl.”

With another laugh, James offered the three of you a salute before heading off for such said duties. 

Apparently having decided it would take too long to dig through your pouch, you held your little arms up to your boyfriend for assistance.

“Oh for Godric’s sake.” He sighed goodnaturedly, picking you up and pressing a kiss to your furry head before flipping you upside down and giving you a gentle shake; various treasures and trinkets falling from your pouch as you let out a little niffler laugh. 

“Merlin’s tits, Trouble. I’ve been looking for that earring!” 

“Is that the one Peter tried convincing you never had a match?” Remus asked as Sirius picked up the offending stud to immediately shove it in its place. 

“It almost sodding worked, too!” He hollered, moving to pick up his various rings and sliding them onto the appropriate fingers. “I was fully ready to admit myself to the Janus Thickey ward at St. Mungo’s over it.” 

The trinkling of treasures had since ceased, prompting Remus to flip you right side up and cradle you to his chest. 

“You’re a menace, dove.” He cooed. 

“Well, if you two don’t mind,” Sirius drawled with faux chagrin, “I have a broom closet to snog in.” 

“Classy, Pads.” Remus mumbled, ignoring Sirius’ two finger salute as he left and the dorm room fell into a comfortable silence as Remus laid back into his pillows. 

“Are you mad at me?” You asked, breaking Remus’ reverie as you melted back into your human form. 

Remus couldn’t help it, he actually laughed. 

“No, Dove. Not even a little.” He promised, pulling you further into his side in order to press a kiss to your head. “It gave Sirius a laugh too.” 

You seemed appeased, nestling impossibly further into your boyfriend as you fiddled with the fabric of his jumper. 

“I’ll get you your own shiny things one day, okay?” He vowed, causing you to look up at him with a twinkle in your eye. 

“I’ve got all I’ve ever wanted right here, I think.” You murmured back, puckering your lips in an ask that Remus was more than happy to answer. 

“If you change your mind, just let Sirius know, apparently.” 

And Remus hadn’t been upset, but the sound of your bubbling laughter more than rectified any wrongdoing.

No one thought much of it. Not until you-the sweet, gentle bunny animagus who everyone doted on like a little sister (or girlfriend, depending on who you asked) -hopped into the room, literally.

You were small and fluffy in your bunny form, white fur dusted with soot from wherever you’d been adventuring this time. Mattheo scooped you up immediately, shaking his head. “Merlin, you’re hopeless.”

You nuzzled into his hoodie pocket, and the boys continued their banter as Blaise finally pulled the tray from the oven. The smell was heavenly -warm chocolate, caramel edges, a hint of something earthy beneath.

“Don’t touch them yet,” Blaise warned, “they need to cool.”

Two minutes later, you-now very much back in human form-peeked over the counter, eyes wide. “Are those brownies?”

“Yeah,” Draco said without looking up from his book, “Zabini’s latest ego project.”

You smiled, already reaching for one. “They smell amazing!”

“Wait-” Theo started, eyes widening.

But it was too late.

You’d already taken a big, happy bite.

Everyone froze.

Mattheo stared. “Tell me she didn’t just-”

“She did,” Enzo groaned, rubbing his face.

Theo winced. “Oh, bloody hell.”

Draco set his book down slowly. “Please tell me you didn’t let her eat those brownies.”

“She grabbed it herself!” Blaise protested. “How was I supposed to stop her?”

“By using words, maybe?” Mattheo snapped.

Fifteen minutes later, you were lying on the common room couch, giggling at the way the torches flickered. “They’re dancing,” you whispered dreamily. “They’re… they’re little fire people.”

Theo crouched beside you, looking horrified and slightly impressed. “Okay, she’s definitely high.”

Blaise leaned against the arm of the couch, muttering, “She’s handling it better than Nott did the first time.”

Theo glared. “Not funny.”

Mattheo knelt down next to you, brushing a piece of hair from your face. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said softly, “how you feeling?”

You blinked up at him, pupils wide. “Your hair looks like a cloud.”

He tried not to laugh. “Right. Okay. Cloud hair. Good sign.”

You reached up, gently patting his curls. “Fluffy cloud. Soft.”

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something about incompetence while Enzo slipped you a glass of water. “Here, drink this, bun. It’ll help.”

“Bun?” you echoed, grinning. “I am a bun!”

And before anyone could stop you-you shifted.

A flash of fur, a pop of magic, and suddenly there was a tiny white bunny sitting on the couch, looking very pleased with herself.

Theo groaned. “Oh, perfect. She’s high and transformed.”

Blaise leaned down to look at you. “She’s just… sitting there. Staring.”

“She’s vibing,” Mattheo said, crossing his arms. “Let her vibe.”

You wiggled your nose.

Mattheo sighed, scooping you up carefully and setting you in his lap. “You’re lucky you’re cute, you know that?”

You responded by hopping in a little circle before collapsing in his lap, perfectly content.

Hours later, when the effects finally wore off and you turned back into yourself, your head was on Mattheo’s shoulder, his hoodie draped around you.

“What happened?” you mumbled, voice sleepy.

Blaise smirked from across the room. “You ate a felony.”

Theo grinned. “You owe us new brownies.”

Draco just sighed. “And I’m never trusting this group with baked goods again.”

You groaned. “Remind me to never eat anything in this dorm again.”

Mattheo chuckled, squeezing your hand. “Deal. But for what it’s worth…” he glanced down at you, still curled against him, “you make one adorable stoner bunny.”

You giggled, burying your face in his chest. “You’re mean.”

He grinned. “Yeah. But you love me anyway.”

Morning rays poured through the windows across Hogwarts. Yawns echoed through the dormitories, along with the rustling of bedsheets from the previous day of classes. Footsteps-light at first, then began to grow louder as time passed-echoed through the corridors. A variety of food was placed on the tables, wafting the smell around. As students ventured into the hall, chatter among one another and the clinking of cutlery buzzed with life.

Even though the room felt alive, one student noticed how someone wasn't in their normal spot.

“Hey Charlotte, have you seen Professor (L/N) this morning?” commented Ember, taking a seat in front of her friend. Her gaze swept over the teachers’ table. “Usually, she’s here by now.”

Charlotte glanced over with a croissant in her hand. “Now that you mention it, she isn’t here.” She took a bite. "Professor Snape isn't here either."

“Usually, Professor Snape isn’t here anyway, Char,” Ember mentioned, serving herself some breakfast. "Even if he were here, he probably would have left by now to do whatever he normally does by himself," she added.

“You don’t have to be rude,” Charlotte pointed out, her voice lowered while looking cautiously at the girl in front of her.

A long sigh escaped Ember's lips just as her eyes rolled. “But it’s Professor Snape.”

“Even if you don’t like him, you don’t have to be mean,” Charlotte responded.

“Fine, fine, whatever you say, Char,” Ember acknowledged, while she began to eat.

“Professor Snape probably left already. Though, if Professor (L/N) were here, he'd usually linger a bit longer before heading off to prepare for his classes or something else,” Charlotte notified her best friend.

Charlotte and Ember weren’t the only students to notice the herbology professor missing. A ripple of quiet chatter began to spread through the Great Hall as students from other tables scanned the teachers' table for the famous herbology professor. No matter the day, Professor (L/N) was always present during breakfast. She was always at the table, smiling and chatting with the rest of the professors, but today the table was quieter without her.

The Potions professor was another story entirely. His presence was unpredictable most of the time. He would appear and then vanish as if he was never there to begin with. If he happened to see the herbology professor, he would stay, as Charlotte mentioned, but he would leave a little later than normal to prepare for his morning classes.

While the castle slept, the Potion Professor had been up before the first dawn touched the horizon. Potion cabinets flew open as Snape rummaged through different ingredients. With each ingredient, he pulled out an audible grumble left his mouth. For every grumble the quill wrote on a piece of parchment, off to the side, noting the ingredients he needed. After he inspected every cabinet, he was left with ingredients on every surface, a piece of parchment, along with a scowl present on his face. He grabbed the parchment, waving his wand around with a command, and left the room without batting an eye.

The cool air from the morning breeze hit Snape in the face. A sigh escaped his lips, washing away the comfortable warmth from the castle. He walked along the path leading toward different areas for ingredients.

If students-or anyone for that matter-walked by the stern, intimidating professor, they would realize his walk was different. Rather than his long strides, he had a slight spring in his step.

On his walk, he was deep within his mind. He could feel something odd about himself, but could not place why. Every year, he taught the same potions, depending on what class he had to teach. He never really felt excited-after all, he was used to teaching potions-until he figured out why. His morning class was going to learn about Amortentia.

His life changed in the last few years, even though he didn't need to smell the potion. This time-this time was different. He felt as though he needed it like a dying flame craving oxygen. Unconsciously, he didn't notice, but when he thought about it, something within him screamed at him to smell it.

Time flew by, and a soft, pale gold light began to spread across the sky. After several stops, he made his way to the Herbology classroom. Hoping the person who occupied the class was there.

He raised his fist and knocking on the door. A few seconds go by, no sound or movement could be heard from beyond the door. A word escaped under his breath. Then a soft click echoed from the door. He gently opened it, hoping not to disturb anyone who might be inside.

“(Y/N), are you here?” he called out, glancing around the room, but realized she wasn’t here.

‘I wonder where she is right now?’ he thought, walking into the room towards the back, where her office was.

A chime filled the room, gaining Severus' attention. He glanced up, taking note of the time. ‘She’s probably at breakfast right now,’ he sighed, then quickly made his way to the room that housed all the ingredients and other plants.

He pulled out the parchment, which had a few strikes through different ingredients. He searched around the room for the remaining ingredients. Several minutes later, he walked out of the room, heading towards her desk. His eyes glanced over all of her belongings until he found what he needed, a piece of paper. He grabbed a quill, dipped it in ink, then wrote what he took. Before placing the quill back-at the bottom of the note-he wrote a small message, leaving him with a small smile on his face. Soon after, he left the room, venturing out into the familiar breeze.

A thought circulated, 'Before class starts, I will come see her.'

Snape rushed back to his classroom. He swung the door open, then waving his wand, lighting the candles scattered around the room. The candles cast shadows onto the floor, illuminating different potion bottles along with other miscellaneous items. Severus did not bother going towards his office but instead walked straight to his desk at the front of the class. He disposed all of the ingredients and began to prepare for his morning class.

In the Great Hall, students began to filter out, making their way towards their classes. Potions students made their way into the dark, cold dungeon. Most people dreaded going down there; after all, who wants to learn about potions first thing in the morning and wake up to the smell of different potions?

Snape, on the other hand, did not notice the time. He was too caught up in preparing all the ingredients. Out of the corner of his eye, students started to roll into the classroom. Luckily for him, he finished up what he needed for this class. He waved his wand in the air, and suddenly, his station was spotless, besides the ingredients.

He sighed, realizing he didn't have time to stop by and make sure (Y/N) was okay, but the class was about to start, so that thought went to the back of his mind. After a few more minutes passed, the sound of chairs screeching across the floor, along with materials being placed on the tables, filled the room.

The Potions professor glanced around to room, noticing some students glancing behind him and careless whispers floating around the room.

'This is odd,' he thought to himself. After all, this wasn't normal, the room was usually silent. He shook the thought away, focusing on his lesson for the class.

“Today, class, we will be brewing the potion called Amortentia. Does anyone know what that potion is?” he questioned, his stern voice filled the room.

He looked around the room, expecting at least one hand to be raised-especially from a certain student-but was left disappointed. He waited a few more seconds, his eyes scanning around the room to see if anyone wasn't paying attention.

“Mr. Potter, what is Amortentia?” he called out, putting his hands behind his back. His foot tapped on the floor.

“Ummm…I’m not sure, Professor,” Harry admitted, looking everywhere except for the man.

A faint sneer touched Snape's lips. "As expected. Ten points from Gryffindor."

He moved his hand from behind his back, placing it on the table. “Does anyone in this classroom know what Amortentia is or what it looks like?”

As Snape was standing in front of everyone, a piece of metal caught in the candlelight flared with a powerful bond represented by the shiny metal. The object was a gold band with black accents and engravings.

A few students' eyes flickered to the band, but their gaze quickly slid away,, focusing on what Snape was saying. After all, the stern, cold Potions professor wearing a piece of jewelry-let alone a wedding ring? The thought was ignored as quickly as it arose.

One of the students, Christian, noticed the ring. For a second, he ignored it, but he couldn't contain himself. He just had to tell someone, so he leaned over to his desk mate.

"Professor Snape has a wedding band on his ring finger," he muttered into his partner's ear.

“He has a what?!” The partner shouted quietly, or at least he tried to.

Before Christian could respond, Snape interrupted their conversation.

"Is there something the matter, Mr. Thomas and Mr. Wilson?" Snape looked directly at the two boys.

“No, Professor Snape," both of them said simultaneously, looking at the professor.

"Are you sure? Both of you seem surprised-or rather, shocked-at something you saw," suggested Snape.

"It was nothing, Professor," replied Christian.

Out of the corner of his eyes, a girl with brown hair raised her hand. A quiet exhale escaped him, and his shoulders relaxed.

"Yes, Miss Granger," he said, his voice flat, but without the usual cutting edge.

"Umm… Professor, there seems to be a cat lying on your chair," Hermione glancing past him to the corner of the room.

Snape looked toward Hermione, narrowing his eyes at the poor girl. 'Why would she lie?' he thought, but shook it off, looking behind him instead. A chair placed in the corner of the room.

“When did I have a chair in here?” he questioned aloud, though he thought he’d said it quietly.

‘I thought I put this chair back last night after grading paper with (Y/N),' he thought, rubbing his brow with his hand. 'Actually, now that I think about it… I didn’t,' he thought to himself.

He walked over; even though the distance wasn't that far, he still felt like he had walked a mile. A rare and unexpected tug at the corner of Snape's mouth. He recognized the fluffy, white, and gray cat curled up on his chair.

With Snape's attention elsewhere, a soft buzzing of hushed chatter filled the room.

One student whispered, glancing toward the person beside them, “Did you see the ring on his finger? If I’m going to be completely honest with you… the ring is nice.”

“I feel bad for whoever is wearing the other ring,” someone else commented.

“Maybe whoever is wearing the other ring was forced to marry him,” another added with a laugh.

“Don’t say that. I don’t think Professor Snape would do such a thing to anyone,” Charlotte defended, eyes narrowed at the group.

“Why are you defending him, Charlotte? He probably poured Amortentia into the drink or something,” the person replied with a smirk.

"I agree with Charlotte on this one. Even though Snape is strict and cold, I don't think he would do such a thing; after all, he knows a lot about the effects of potions," Ember said, helping defend the potion master.

“Is anyone going to talk about the fact that there is a cat in the room? I didn’t even know Professor Snape had a cat, or if he even liked cats in the first place,” another student observed but was quickly ignored.

“Would all of you be quiet before all of get in trouble,” a student hissed, glancing between Snape and the group, whispering to each other.

The last whisper died in the classroom, leaving only the rustle of robes and the flickering of flames, before Snape's voice cut through the stillness. Heads turned, eyes focused on the Professor.

“Why might you be in here, especially at this time?” he questioned, with a hint of disappointment in his tone. He gently placed his hand on the cat and crouched down to meet its head. While Snape was petting and rubbing the cat, he felt a twitch beneath his hand.

The cat yawned, opening its eyes, looking right at Snape. He noted the cat's head being tilted leading him to reciprocate the motion. Both of them stared at each other, eyes locked on eyes, heads tilted identically-challenging the other.

Severus pulled away, standing up in his stop, letting the cat wake up fully. His hands fell onto his hips. The cat stood up and stretched its limbs, but quickly sat back down, staring at him with curious, (E/C) eyes.

“Darling, you shouldn’t be in here right now.” One of his hands fell off his hips than placed it on top of the cat's head. He began to scratch the top of its head. The cat pushed its head against the palm of his hand. Snape's gaze sharpened, and a hint of the corners of his lips turning upwards as his attention locked onto the small feline. Purring filled every corner of the room but quickly died down. Snape removed his hand, staring into the depths of (E/C) colored irises. The cat stared into his eyes, letting out a meow.

"My dear, you really ought to be preparing for class," Severus stated, his voice a low, almost tender murmur. "Yet here you are, occupying my chair when I have class to teach. I love you like a moth to a flame… but why exactly are you here?" He looked down, narrowing his eyes slightly, but filled with love. The cat stared right back. A silent conversation passes between the two, a language understood only by them.

Students glanced at each other, leaning in close to their friends, whispering questions about what they just heard, making sure this was real. The Potion Master's usual stern facade seemed to soften.  Whispers spread throughout the classroom as they hoped not to disturb the moment for the man.

“Did I just hear that, Ron?” said Harry, confused but with a hint of surprise in his voice, leaning towards his best friend. The boy nodded; his eyes were saucers. Ron could only nod, never breaking his gaze from the professor.

Snape had called the cat ‘dear’ along with using the word 'love' several times. Questions erupted in several students' minds. These terms were known for showing endearment and affection, but why exactly is the Head of Slytherin, the Potions Professor, using it now-especially towards a cat? Then a question that was brought up earlier appeared. Did Snape even have a pet cat in the first place or rather does he even like cats? Questions upon questions appeared, but never spoken out, rather dismissing them since this has to be some sort of dream.

The fluffy cat stood up from the chair, perched on the edge, ready to launch itself.

"So... now you decided to jump down.” Snape's lips thinned slightly as he looked down at the cat. He crossed his arms across his chest.

The fluffy, white, and gray cat shook its head and rolled its eyes before hopping down, but before its paws touched the ground, the candles flickered on and off until a figure appeared out of nowhere, replacing the cat. None of the students witnessed the transformation, only noticing Snape's wide frame blocking whoever appeared. The candles flickering were noticed, but no one said anything about it rather focused on Snape.

Severus turned around, lost in his thoughts, completely forgetting about how he was supposed to be teaching. Right behind him, the sound of heels hitting the ground echoed through the room. Snape paid no mind to anything else, instead focused on what had occurred. He continued to walk towards his station.

"I'm sorry, darling, I didn't notice the time. Plus, I missed seeing you this morning before you left," a voice, a little soft and apologetic, said from behind him. Severus, already halfway to the table, paused mid-stride, slowly turning to face the sound.

Snape and whoever he was talking to moved closer to him. Snape's frame still hid her away, but students could hear her along with they saw a glimpse of her. The identity of the mysterious woman was still a mystery to them.

“You know you could have come into my office to rest, yes?” Snape's words infused with concern but love. He tilted his head slightly, one eyebrow raised slightly. As he looked at her, waiting patiently, as if in bold letters would appear telling him.

“I know... but your office door was locked, and I noticed that your chair was also out here from the other day when I was helping you grade papers,” she said, pausing. "I wanted to see you before class started, but I fell asleep in your chair waiting for you, dear," she finished, meeting his dark eyes like a starless night, but a flicker of deep warmth softened in their depths.

Snape's gaze fixated onto hers, and for a moment every other presence in the cold room faded into the corners, but welcoming arms surrounded the two. An unfamiliar, unguarded smile spread across his face. He spoke without any hesitation, "You look beautiful, my love."

A soft, red hue appeared on her cheeks. "Well, I hope I do," she teased with an affectionate smile. She stepped closer to him, closing the distance between them until she stood directly in front of him.

Severus reached down, taking her hands into his. His shoulder relaxed, letting go of the build-up of tension. Students couldn’t see the interaction, but the Professor from the start of class was completely different from the man, standing with his back turned, in front of them. The man who stood before them, known for being cold, stern, and commanding, was not softer, the way he spoke drenched in a quiet tenderness none of them could have imagined.

All the information and interactions between the two hit the students in the face. From the gold band on Snape's finger, to the cat in the chair, and now a woman blocked by Snape. Everything just felt…odd. Different. Questions began to swarm the room like hornets wanting answers.

Snape and this mysterious woman were still talking-no, flirting-with each other. Their eyes lingered, hands intertwined in a way that left for no questions.The Potion Master moved slightly, letting everyone in the room to see the woman a little more.

What stood out the most wasn’t her face, or how close she was to the man, it was her outfit. A certain famous professor in the castle wore similar outfits to the woman Snape was hiding.

The woman was wearing a black robe with white details, along with a white blouse and a black skirt that touched the floor. She was also shorter than Snape.

“YOU’RE PROFESSOR (L/N)!” yelled Ron, his eyes widened.

Heads turned towards the boy. He looked around the room, realizing all eyes were on him, students and both professors. He gulped and trembled. His eyes met the obsidian eyes waiting for him to get in trouble but he was alive, but the glare spoke unspoken words directed at him.

The woman in question was pale. Her entire face was noticeable now. (E/C) eyes dilated, utterly still at this boy.

A heavy silence settled in the room. A minute goes by, Professor (L/N) swallowed but looked up at Severus noticing his head is turned towards the students. She moved her head looking at them, a soft smile appeared on her face.

She replied, slightly stuttering, “Yes… yes, I am.”

“I kind of forgot you had students in here, and I’m going to guess you did as well, dear,” said Professor (L/N) murmured, her voice low, meant only for his ears alone. She slowly moved to the side, walking past him towards the table. Before she made it to the table, she heard his reply.

“Yes, I did forget about the students in here,” he replied with a deep sigh.

Realization landed on Snape's face. Severus whipped around, facing away from the questions and the looks of students. He rubbed his hands on his face. Soon enough, a blush crept up to his neck and onto his face. After a few seconds of composing himself, the heat from his face faded away like a potion effect wearing off. A sigh escaped his lips, his hands lowered. He turned around joining (Y/N) behind his workstation, both of them facing the judgmental gazes of their students.

“Well, I guess the cat is out of the bag unless-" she began, but was cut off.

“You also have a wedding band!” gasped Luke, looking straight at her hand with wide eyes. (Y/N) noticed Luke looking at her ring finger.

"Could you please clarify what you're implying with ‘also,’ Mr. Thomas?" Professor (L/N) inquired, her brows furrowing slightly. Unconsciously, she reached for her ring finger, feeling the cold, metal, gemstone of her wedding and engagement ring. Her gaze drifted, and she noticed another detail; Severus, too, was wearing his wedding band.

‘I guess both of us forgot to take off our rings this morning,’ thought (Y/N) to herself, a sigh escaped her lips.

During the conversation, Snape noticed she glanced down at his hands. Severus heard her sigh and followed her gaze. His eyes noticed the gold band shiny back at him, mocking him. He quickly glanced at her hand, noticing the same bands were twinkling at him. He sighed, a flicker of dread passed through him, wishing he could take his wife with him back to their shared room and hide away from the world. Every ounce of him wished his students wouldn't realize what was between him and (Y/N). After all, this was a secret not many people knew about, and that's how it was supposed to be-kept away from prying eyes. He noticed Mr. Thomas was speaking again.

"Well, you see, Professor (L/N)…" Luke gulped down a quick breath, then continuing. “Professor Snape is also wearing a wedding band on his finger. And I think most of my classmates will agree with me, but we've never seen Professor Snape or you wear those rings to class before. Not to mention how you, Professor (L/N), are in here as well. Along with why would you be here sleeping, and the discussion you and Professor Snape were having a while ago?” He rushed the words out, barely pausing for air. "So, if the evidence is correct, you two are married," he concluded with a smile.

Silence descended on the two professors and the class. Both (Y/N) and Severus froze, their faces pale, eyes wide with the sudden, undeniable truth that was let out. (Y/N) recovered quickly; her gaze found Severus, whose own stunned expression mirrored hers a second ago. Severus remained still in his spot, speechless. Despite knowing this was going to happen eventually, it's still surprising when the truth was laid out on the table for everyone to see.

“I knew this was going to happen one of these days. I guess the cat is out of the bag then,” she murmured to her husband. Both of them staring into each other’s eyes. The corners of (Y/N)'s lips curved upwards in a sincere and warm smile. He returned the gesture but his actual smile, one only she sees in private, appeared.

“So...am I correct?” said Luke, smirking.

"(Y/N)... just tell them," muttered Severus. His shoulders slumped, and a defeated look was featured on his face. He slowly reached her hand, his fingers finding hers, unconsciously drawing comfort from the metal bands on her finger. As their hands clasped, his shoulders relaxed and he could finally breath.

“Ok, umm… yes, you are correct; the two of us are married,” (Y/N) said, a soft smile touching her lips as she felt Severus gently take her hand in his while she spoke.

Gasps all around echoed through the room. Conformation about the two left questions circulating. This kept secret left everyone in the room in shock along with Draco hearing the news.

One student whispered to their friend, “I can't believe he married her. Like, she is the complete opposite of him.”

Another student said, “I think it's cute that both of them are total opposites of each other.”

The married couple looked at each other, sharing a soft smile on their faces. The weight of this secret lifted off of them, realizing neither one of them needs to hide their affection for one another anymore. Even though (Y/N) would favor this while Severus, not so much ,at least not in public. Gasps filled the room. (Y/N) hears a familiar voice that piqued her interest.

One student spoke up, “That explains so much.”

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow. "Like what, exactly, might I ask?" she questioned, looking away from Severus and now fully looking at the student. She recognized the student as Lizzy, one of the many students who would come to her class to talk or hang out.

“Well, I noticed that you have potion ingredients in your office placed on the desk, along with Professor Snape's graded papers stacked on your desk as well from one of his classes,” Lizzy rambled, but paused, taking a deep breath before speaking again.

(Y/N) heard her husband muttered under his breath, “That’s where I put those bloody papers." She smiled, a spark of amusement danced in her eyes. Her focus went back to Lizzy.

"Oh, did I mention that sometimes there's a robe similar to Professor Snape’s hanging behind your chair? Along with just other things in your classroom and office, Professor (L/N). Don’t even get me started on what I noticed in here!” She took another breath, ready to continue on, until Severus cut in.

"I believe that my wife and I understand what you're saying,” Severus interrupted, his voice sharp. He glanced at the clock hanging on the wall, noticing how much time had passed. The class was about to be finished, and he needed to make a quick decision, but it was right in front of him in bold letters. He heard a tick; his decision was set in stone.

"Class is dismissed, and do not ask any more questions,” he demanded, looking at all the students. He released his wife's hand.

Some students got up and left, but others hesitated, eager to ask more questions, but decided to leave those questions behind for now. Their burning questions would have to wait; none dared to risk getting detention or losing house points. These questions wouldn't be answered by the Potions Professor, but the Herbology Professor was a whole other can of worms.

A group of students began to walk towards the door, but all of their voices were loud and noticeable. Both Professors turned their attention to them, eager to hear the conversation.

One student said, “When was Professor (L/N) an Animagus, especially a cat? I don’t remember her speaking about being one in the first place. Did anyone notice that, or was it just me?”

“Now you say that, I did notice that,” another student confirmed.

“Eh… we can just ask Professor (L/N) after all; she's our next class anyway, so it works out,” a third student mused, shrugging as they walked out of the classroom.

When the last group of students left, Severus looked at his wife beside him. She was giggling softly at what she overheard from the students. He offered her a gentle smile, his gaze lingering on her face, taking in every aspect of her as if she was going to disappear.

(Y/N), still shocked from everything the happened, hadn't noticed her husband's gaze until her eyes met his. A soft smile appeared on her face. Caught in the action, Severus smiled back. Silence filled the room, the only sound being the flames from candles and footsteps outside the classroom. The couple held each one another's gaze, a quiet understanding passing between them. Moments later, the stillness was broken.

“I love you, my love,” (Y/N) murmured, the words carefully breaking the silence.

“I love you too,” Severus replied, slowly leaning forward and pressing a gentle kiss to her lips.

(Y/N) hesitantly broke the kiss, realizing her class would start soon. They were disappointed, but both understood they'd continue what they started later, within the comfort of each other's arms in their quiet, hidden-away chamber.

"I have to go, my love," (Y/N) said, grabbing his shirt collar and pulling him down for a quick peck on his lips and then his cheek.

“I told you to stop doing that,” Severus chuckled, his fingers automatically went up to his collar, straightening it. A faint flush crept up his neck and onto his face.

(Y/N) let out a giggle. “I can’t help it; sometimes you just look cute when you blush," she said, slowly walking backward towards the door. She just wanted to see his reaction-after all, this was a rare moment sometimes. Severus stood there, stunned by her words. A soft smile touched his lips, which she returned.

“Don’t trip, I don’t want you to end up in the medical wing,” Severus called out, his voice filled with worry and care, as he watched her walk backwards toward the door. Every move she made, his eyes followed.

“I won’t, love, I promise. After all, I’m always careful,” she said confidently, hands on her hips, a bright smile on her face. Severus rolled his eyes as he shook his head, but a faint smile playing on his own lips.

“Whatever you say, darling, just don’t come crying to me when you fall,” Severus retorted, but laced with sarcasm. She shook her head, smiling back at him.

“I'll see you at lunch,” (Y/N) said, pointing at him before turning around and walking out the door.

Severus just smiled, shook his head, and said, “Why did I marry her?"

He looked down at his ring, a soft smile gracing his lips as he recalled her. Shaking his head, he began to prepare for his next class, knowing students would soon arrive.

Severus knew the questions about their relationship would be asked. He could not wait until it died down, so his life could go back to normal. Even though, deep within his mind, he knew this information would change some aspects of their life. At least there was an upside to this situation, but he could see his wife without any worry of being caught, and the same goes for her.

Sirius Black wasn’t paranoid. He just happened to like pacing around his dorm after failing to find you in your dorm to tell you about what he just saw.

And now that he thought about it, there was definitely something off about you lately. You’d always been a little odd—quirky, clever, and frustratingly unreadable—but now you were secretive. Slipping out of the castle at strange hours, suddenly obsessed with rocks, and somehow not bothered by the frigid Scottish air.

He didn't have proof, yet. But he had a hunch.

And Sirius Black always followed his hunches, especially when they involved you.

Monday

You were crouched near the greenhouses, sorting through pebbles when Sirius walked up behind you.

“Is this some kind of new plant-growing ritual, or are you just starting a weird little rock cult?”

You smiled over your shoulder. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I would, actually,” he said, stepping closer. “You’ve been pocketing pebbles all week. They don’t even sparkle.”

“They’re soothing,” you said casually. “Merlin forbid a girl has a hobby.”

“Sure,” he muttered, watching as you tucked one into your coat. “Just... feels familiar, somehow.”

You gave him an innocent look. “Maybe you were a crow in a past life.”

Tuesday

You showed up to dinner late, your tie hanging loosely from your neck. Sirius leaned over the table when you sat down.

“Let me guess. Library?”

“Mmm,” you said, grabbing a roll. “It’s warmer in there than the dorm.”

“Except it’s not,” he replied, studying your cheeks, still pink from the cold. “Unless you’ve discovered a fireplace I don’t know about.”

You smirked. “I’ll never reveal my secrets.”

Remus looked up from his plate. “You’re have been sneaking off lately.”

You raised a brow. “Should I start sending invites?”

James shrugged. “As long as it’s not homework.”

You just winked and bit into the roll.

Sirius frowned down at his shepherd’s pie.

Wednesday

Everyone was huddled around the Gryffindor common room fire. James and Peter were trading cards, Remus was half-asleep with a book in his lap, and you were curled up in an armchair with your legs tucked beneath you.

Sirius slid onto the floor beside you, resting his arm across the seat. “You’ve been out a lot lately,” he said casually.

You glanced down at him. “Getting fresh air.”

“In January?”

You just smiled and tossed a handful of popcorn into your mouth. “I like the cold.”

“You used to complain every time we'd walk to Hogsmeade.”

“I’ve evolved.”

Sirius blinked. Remus snorted. No one else batted an eye.

Thursday

You were sprawled in the common room with everyone, lazily quizzing each other for exams. Sirius leaned over to grab a cushion from under the table and froze.

A tiny feather—black and white—was caught on your bag.

He plucked it off, twirling it between his fingers.

“Lose a pet?” he asked casually.

You looked over and blinked. “Huh. Must’ve stuck to me when I sat outside.”

“Funny,” he said, watching your face. “This looks like a penguin feather.”

You didn’t even flinch. “What would you know about penguin feathers?”

“…Enough.”

You grinned. “Sirius Black, do you have a penguin we don't know about?”

Sirius narrowed his eyes.

Friday

You were clearly sneaking back in from somewhere when you spotted Sirius watching from the top of the stairs.

Without missing a beat, you called up to him, “If you tell anybody I was out, I’ll start rumors about what you really got caught doing in third year.”

His jaw dropped. “I didn’t eat the frogspawn! That was Peter!”

You grinned and squeezed past him to head back to your room. “Exactly. See how easy it is?”

He was too busy defending his honor to chase the real question: why your boots were muddy and your socks were missing.

Saturday

He found you near the lake again, bundled up, casually tossing a pebble across the ice. You barely looked over when he approached.

“I brought you something,” he said, pulling a smooth, dark stone from his pocket. It was flat, polished, and shimmered faintly in the afternoon light.

You glanced at it. “Did you steal that from the Herbology fountain?”

He grinned. “Maybe. Thought you’d like it. You’ve got a bit of a... collection going, don’t you?”

You took the stone from him, twirling it between your fingers with a neutral expression. “Thanks. It’s a nice one.”

“I figured,” he said, stepping closer, “if you were hypothetically a penguin animagus, and hypothetically collecting rocks because of deeply ingrained nesting instincts… you’d probably appreciate this one.”

You were silent for a beat, then smiled softly. “That so?”

“Also,” he added, voice softening, “I hypothetically have feelings for said penguin. And I thought maybe… if I hypothetically gave you a rock, you’d hypothetically consider making a nest for two.”

Silence.

Then a laugh bubbled up from your chest—half disbelief, half affection, “You’re hypothetically ridiculous."

“But am I wrong?”

You shook your head, smiling. “Not even a little.”

And just like that, you leaned up and kissed him—quick, warm, easy.

When you pulled away, Sirius looked dazed. “So... not denying the penguin thing?”

The Muggle Studies professor was strange.

Hogwarts always had its fair share of odd characters occupying teaching positions. Even a ghost, evidently, was capable of teaching. But he couldn’t place what it was about you that made him so suspicious. 

You were human, not like Firenze or Professor Binns. You weren’t kooky like Hagrid or Professor Trelawney. Outwardly, you appeared perfectly normal. However, there were oddities if one looked closely.

You ate fruit. Lots of it. Every day at breakfast, instead of toast, eggs, bacon, sausage, things the other teachers would partake in, your breakfast consisted of fruit and only fruit, including a cup of pumpkin juice. Your plate appeared almost like a small pyramid, stacked with cubes of cantaloupe, pineapple, strawberries, honeydew, and grapes, leaving behind a pool of sweet juices when consumed. 

You also had a tendency to pop up and disappear seemingly out of nowhere. One time he went into your classroom to talk to you about moving a couple of detentions around only to find it empty, having swept his gaze around it. Just as he approached your office door to knock on it, you uttered a soft “hello” as you stood in the middle of the classroom, making him jump out of his skin. 

Furthermore, Filch had brought up to him once that he could hear some perplexing screeching noises echoing from random parts of the castle at night and even what sounded like right outside the windows. What was strange about it is he only brought them up the morning after you were scheduled to perform rounds.

This wasn’t to say he disliked you. Quite the opposite. Out of everyone in the castle, he’d say he preferred your company. Who he'd rather sit next to at Quidditch games? Probably you. Even though you were the Muggle Studies teacher, you had plenty of knowledge about Care for Magical Creatures and DADA. Potions weren’t your forte, but you’d happily let him ramble about the subject, even when he’d realize too late that he was rambling. 

“Why do you eat so much fruit?” he asked one day when you came into his classroom eating a sliced-up apple.

“Oh, uh, that’s just my animagus urges. Sorry, am I dripping juice on the ground again?”

He blinked dumbly at you. “You’re an animagus?”

You chuckled, “You didn’t know, Severus? I thought Minerva would’ve told you. Yes, I am an animagus.”

“What animal?” he asked. You smirked and set down the apple slices on a nearby table before shifting. Your robes moved with you, swishing up and shrinking until you took the form of a fruit bat. You flapped and swooped about the air in a few circles before landing on the flat surface of the table, using your talons and thumbs hooks to wriggle toward your sweet fruit.

“You’re a fruit bat,” he observed. You screeched at him in confirmation and began to gingerly gnaw on the flesh of the nearest apple slice. Severus remained quiet for a little, seemingly thinking to himself as his fingers flexed and his jaw clenched slightly. Much to your curiosity, he wordlessly set his wand down and took a deep breath. Within a flash, his robes swooped around him, and in his place was a fruit bat, just like you, but bigger. He flapped his wings just hard enough to get him onto the table as he landed with an audible thud. It was pretty much impossible for bats to take flight without launching from a tree or a high-up place.

[Woah! You’re a bat too? That’s awesome! Is that why students call you a “dungeon bat?”]

[Yes, I am an animagus whose form is also a bat, and no, that’s just a coincidence.]

[How come you’re so much bigger than me?]

[You don’t exactly tower over me, Y/N.]

From then on, the two of you would sometimes go on day flights if both of you had some free time. While both of you wished to fly at nights, you still needed time to sleep and perform your teaching duties during the day. However, your favorite times were when the both of you were scheduled to do rounds. Your classrooms were on opposite sides of the castle so it was almost like a game to use echolocation to find each other in the dark and meet up. It was a little fun considering the dungeons were almost maze-like. If the two of you were sure that no students were out and about, you’d ditch your duties, ascend up the Astronomy tower, and take off into the night sky, playfully chasing one another or showing off flying moves. 

Severus hardly used his form unless it was necessary. It’s not like one got to choose which animal they could shift into. Admittedly, he was a bit let down when he first shifted all those years ago, but with you he learned to embrace his batiness, though he still resisted such urges when it came to eating a castle’s worth of fruit. He liked flying, of course, but he found that he quite liked hanging upside down too, especially when he needed a break from grading or just wanted a change of scenery. Sometimes he’d come hang around your office when you were grading and vice versa.