#potter fluff

James jumps up at once, snatching your drink from your hand and twisting his fingers around yours. He abandons his own in favor of anchoring himself to you. With a gentle tug, you rise, using your free hand to tug your skirt down.

It should be illegal, really, how darling you look when you send him a shaky, self-deprecating smile.

“Lead the way,” he says, directly into your ear, tucking his chin and bending his spine to reach you.

You guide him out the front door – not the back, where smoke clouds and strangers hover by the firepit. Instead, you lead him into the pulsing, almost-quiet of the front porch, your hand still gripping his.

“Everything alright, love?” he asks as you lean against the railing, still holding his hand like you don’t plan to let go.

He’s never been so delighted to stand with his arm outstretched.

“It’s quite loud in there.” You say it offhand, nearly, but he hears the question curled just beyond the curve of your vowels.

“Parties tend to be,” he says, eyes searching your face.

“You like parties.” Another observation; casual on the surface, cautious underneath.

“Only because I always see you at them.” The flirting is slathered in truth. He sees the confusion knit between your brows, so he takes a step closer, knocking your sandal gently with the toe of his trainer. “Yeah, I like a party. But I only keep coming every weekend ‘cos of you.”

You don’t answer that, eyes locked on your feet. Your toenails are painted shimmering pink.

He’s known you like this for two years, hovering closer and closer to that electric sensation of almost that drives him just the right kind of mad. He started out wrong: the first party he saw you, drunkenly trailing his fingers across your back to tickle your side and leaning low to whisper sweet words in your ear. He thought he’d ruined it, honestly. The shock on your face, the confusion. You didn’t recognize him from your shared friend group and, drunk as he was, he’d failed to realize that was your first interaction.

He was a perfect gentleman from then on. He found you on campus, walking between classes, trailing after you like he couldn’t breathe properly unless he caught a glimpse. He couldn’t hide how enamored he was, but he did his best to stay within the boundaries of your comfort.

Life as your friend was a brilliant sort of torture.

He’d spent his teenage years drooling over the idea of Lily and learned his lesson the hard way when she made it clear she wasn’t interested – not for a lack of kindness, but because he’d never truly tried to know her. He’d shaped up after that, made a best mate he’d keep for life, and promised he wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

And unlike with Lily, the more he knew about you, the further he collapsed into his certainty.

He’s a patient one, James Potter, perfectly content with honeyed moments of holding hands and flirty comments. It took him time, after your initial rejection, to be brave enough to show his affection again. But now? Now he’s sure no one could be near him without feeling it. All that love, seeping from every corner of his being, just for you.

“Alright, love?” he asks after a few minutes of desperately trying, and failing, to catch your eyes.

He wouldn’t call himself a mind reader, but James prides himself on being intuitive with the people he loves. He knows the difference between Sirius and Remus fighting versus Sirius and Regulus. He knows when Peter needs to shout and when he needs someone to sit and problem-solve. And once he gave his friendship with Lily a proper go, he hadn’t even blinked when she told him about her and Mary – he knew. He knows because he makes it a point to see the people he loves.

And it’s gnawing at him now, not knowing why you look so bloody self-conscious. He’d been watching you all night, trailing your movements like it’s instinct, and you’d seemed happy.

“I just … I don’t understand you, James,” you say at last. Your voice isn’t quiet, but it’s uncertain, your gaze ducking.

“Ask me, then. There’s nothing I wouldn’t tell you,” he says without hesitation. “I’m an open book. Especially to you, love.”

“See, you say things like that, and –” You cut yourself off, tightening your grip around his hand, then letting go to lift his wrist between your palms. You finally meet his eyes. “You hold my hand. Walk me to class even when you’ve no lessons nearby.”

James blinks, confused. He watches you carefully, but when he doesn’t respond fast enough, you shake your head and sigh.

“It’s probably nothing, you just…” Again, you trail off. Chin tipped skyward, eyes shut, back pressed hard to the railing. You drop his wrist and something breaks inside him.

“It’s not nothing. I’m sorry, I’m just not following. I do those things because I want to see you,” he says, soft and slow, voice like syrup. He wants to fix this, whatever’s worrying you and bringing out the adorable wrinkle between your eyebrows. He wants to press his thumb there, too soothe it.

“Because we’re friends?” you ask.

“Because I love you,” James replies, agreeing, confusion tightening his voice.

“That means the same thing to you,” you point out, chin down, eyes still closed. “You tell Sirius you love him at least once an hour. You shout it after Peter and Remus every time they leave a room.”

“Yes,” James says slowly, head spinning to find your point.

“And that’s how you love me?”

“No. Well, yes. But no. Not like that. Not at all but also, yes.”

You nod a few times, slow, hair shifting in the night breeze. “Sorry. That doesn’t help at all,” you admit, cracking one eye open.

“You’re one of my best mates,” he concedes, “but it’s quite obvious it extends beyond that, isn’t it?”

It’s not. Not to you, apparently, as your head shakes no.

“No? Yes it is, love. Of course it is.”

He’s panicking now, completely aghast. James Potter is many things. Subtle with feelings is not one of them.

“Love, I just about sent you running the first time I talked to you because of how violently I fancied you.”

“That was over two years ago, James. A lot changes in two years.”

James is shaking his head before you even finish. “Fucking Christ. Not that. Not ever.”

“No?” you ask, voice going small again, fingers nervously tangling.

“No,” he says, stepping in until your chests brush. He waits until you look up. “No, not that. Never that.”

“How was I meant to know? I thought you gave up.”

“How could I?”

“I’m … difficult. I move slow.”

“Do you?” he asks, so sincere it catches his chest and burns his throat. “Hadn’t noticed. I’ve been too busy noticing everything else.”

“So you’ve just been waiting? For me?” Your voice lifts, hope woven through it. And he sees now, sees exactly what your heart’s been afraid to ask.

“Always, love. Thought it was obvious,” he breathes, lifting his hands to cup your cheeks. His eyes dart across your face, memorizing every part.

“No. Not to me.”

“Love, I’m absolutely wrecked over you. Everyone knows it.”

“Everyone but me,” you whisper, chewing your bottom lip. “I thought … that’s just how you are. Loud with love. I didn’t want to hope. But then people started saying things, and I kept getting my hopes up, and you just kept being you—”

“It’s a habit I’ve yet to break,” James interrupts gently.

“Never dare to,” you murmur reflexively. “But I didn’t know. And then you’ve just been staring at me all night and I just.”

“Please tell me you’re not pissed right now,” James says. He needs you sober, or near to it, in order to let himself say what he wants. You shake your head. relief is a gentle warmth in his chest.

“Good. Because I need you to know that I’m always watching you, love. And, yeah, I’m affectionate with my friends, but I don’t walk them to class. Don’t follow them ‘round like a lost puppy. Don’t bring them food and drinks and hope they notice.”

He laughs, shaking his head, resisting the urge to press your face into his palm. To hold you close until it’s all real.

“I’m rather mad for you, actually,” James adds, possibly using more words than he ever has to say it.

“I think I know the feeling,” you whisper, flushed and radiant in the cold night air.

“Yeah?” he asks, though he’s known it, seen it. Still, hearing it floods him.

You nod. And James grins so wide it hurts.

“Brilliant,” he says, practically glowing. “Been waiting on that for a while, actually.”

“Sorry,” you mutter, actually looking upset.

James can’t help but laugh.

“I’m okay,” you say, voice low but not upset. To anyone else, you know you look as lovesick as you feel. Resting your head against his bicep, it flexes in surprise and then settles. He squeezes your hand. 

“You having fun?” he asks softly, just for you to hear. He even ducks his head down to get a better look at you, strands of curly hair falling before his eyes. He shoves them back with a huff.

James is like this everytime you go out together. It could be a diner, a club, a bar; it’s almost like he can’t relax nor have fun unless he knows you're okay too.

You laugh softly into his shoulder, his shirt scrunching beneath your cheek as you tilt your head up at him. “Relax, Jamie. Please. This is fun.” Which is no lie.  

He studies you for a moment, so you take the opportunity to do the same, taking in the slope of his nose, the roundness of his eyes that are surrounded with long lashes, the natural pink of his lips. You could observe his face for hours, you think, and always be entertained and completely in love. 

Bending further down, he smooches the side of your nose, glasses bumping into you. The hair he had, so carefully, pushed back moments ago falls right back. The thick, dark, curly locks long enough to reach the outer corners of his eyes. Before he can move them back, always rougher than you like, you do it for him. 

With your free hand, you gather the loose strands in one swoop, tucking them behind his ear. You do it without thinking, not like you’ve never done it before. The look in James’ eye says something different.

A girlish giggle escapes your lips. “What?”

He just stares at you for a moment, completely holding your attention. You’re unaware that Remus is watching the two of you with a curious eye from down the booth, that Sirius has taken one too many shots and is now singing the British National Anthem. For you, it is just James. 

Before you can ask again, his lips are on yours. They are warm and soft, tasting like whatever drink, (one you don’t particularly like), he was drinking earlier. His hand abandons yours to cup your cheek, warm thumb brushing just below your eye, like he’s trying to memorize every slope of your face. (He already has.)

He pulls away after another moment, kissing the high of your cheek as he tugs you against his side once again. 

“What was that for?” It bursts out for you; not a complaint, not at all, more so curious. Your cheeks warm and then spread down to your neck.  

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just rests his chin on the top of your head. James being quiet isn’t a common thing, but it isn’t abnormal either. You know that when he wants to tell you something, he always does.

“Just love you, ‘s all,” He says, quiet enough for just you to hear, his tone somewhat bashful. Now you understand. If you were to look up at him, his cheeks would be tinged with pink. 

You grin into the junction between his neck and shoulder, fingers toying with the hem of his (your) sweatshirt. 

“Merlin, Potter… If I had known snogging you would make you go all sappy, I would’ve done it ages ago.”

He groans, pressing his face into your hair, laughing softly. “You’re the worst.”

His arms that tighten around you say something different. 

criticism is welcome as long as it’s kind ✮⋆˙

“Wait, please!” You exclaimed at the girl. “I can’t believe you. You’re gay?” She asked, walking further away from you.

“No, I’m pansexual, there is a difference.” You tried to explain to her.

“So that’s why you were making out with that girl? Because you’re not gay.” She said.

“Pansexual issuing attracted to everybody, regardless of gender.” You said. “Just please, don’t tell anyone.”

“Oh honey, I won’t.”

Boy were you wrong. A week later, that’s all everybody was talking about. Girls gave you weird looks while boys went up to you asking if you wanted to have a three way. 

“Hey, fag, want to come up to my dorm and have some fun?” A boy came up to you and asked. You looked at him.

“No thank you, and please don’t use that word.” You said calmly.

“The word ‘fag’?” He asked, smirking. You mentally slapped yourself, now you let him get to you.

“Just please go away, I’m not interested.” You tried to walk away, but he kept talking.

“So how do you like it, hard or gentle, cause baby I can do both.” He said. You kept walking faster until you reached the common room. You noticed as you sat on the couch, some girls scooted further away.

“Do you have a problem?” You asked angrily, which caused them to get scared. “What, are you afraid I’m going to rape you?” 

“N-no, just that that…” They kept going on but couldn’t come up with an explanation, so you left to go to the dorm. But on your way, a boy grabbed your arm and pulled you into a corner.

“Hey, I heard your a freak.” He said while putting his hand on your waist. You tried to pull him off but he was much stronger than you.

“Please let go of me.” You said, starting to panic.

“But this is what you like, right?” He said while kissing your neck. Tears started to pour out of your eyes. You tried to reach for your wand but he noticed it and put your hands above your head.

“Please, stop.” You whimpered.

“Come on, don’t be a prude, you’re gay so you like the freaky shit.” He said and started to lift up your blouse. Your breathing became quick. He’s going to rape me, he’s going to rape me, I can’t do anything. This is how I die. Those were the thoughts going around in your head. 

“Help! Ple-” You tried to scream but he covered your mouth.

“Hey! Get off of her. Flipendo!” A voice said and it sent the boy flying away from you. You immediately ran away from him to behind the person who saved you. Your life had been saved by a person you didn’t even know. After recovering, you noticed his unmistakable green eyes and black hair. And then the scar. Harry Potter, the boy who lived, just saved your life.

“Thanks, for, uh, saving my life.” You said awkwardly.

“Are you alright? Do you need to go to the hospital wing?” He asked, concerned, looking at you. At that moment, you broke down in tears. This was the nicest thing someone had done for you in the past week. You put a hand over your mouth to muffle your sobs. Harry looked at you, even more worried than he was before. He walked away to go grab you a glass of water. Once he handed it to you, you tried to clam yourself down. You sat down against the wall and drank the water slowly.

“This is the nicest thing anyone’s done for me.” You could swear you saw the slightest bit of a blush form on his cheeks.

“Well, others would have done the same thing, I’m sure.” He said, sitting down next to you.

“I don’t think so, you know, being the ‘fag’ of the school.” You said.

“What?” He asked.

“Have you not heard?” You asked.

“Nope.” He replied.

“Well, thats a first. See, I was caught by a certain person making out with a girl and now all the girls think I’m going to rape them and all the guys want to rape me.” Harry had heard about it. He remembered Ron talking about how he wouldn’t mind getting a show of the two girls making out and Harry had laughed along while Hermione tried to get them to stop laughing because it wasn’t funny.

“Well, I’m sorry.” He said.

“Why? It’s not your fault.”

“Actually, my friend made a joke about it and I laughed. I now feel like a complete arse now.” He said.

“It’s fine, you know, at lest he didn’t try to rape me.”You said making a joke of it. “I want to kill myself, did you know that?” This made Harry more uncomfortable. “Yeah, I was planning it and everything. It was going to be next week. And you know, I don’t think people would mind that much.” 

“Well, I would mind very much if you did that.” He said, trying to make you feel better but it didn’t work.

“I don’t know, because a part of me wants to believe you, but another part of me thinks that you just want to get in my pants because you see that I don’t have a shirt on” You said. While Harry pushed him off of you, he took your shirt with him and now your blouse is gone. Harry became very red now. “Dude, I’m joking. You haven’t looked down once, which is very impressive.”

“I’m sorry.” He said again. “Do you want a blanket or something?”

“No it’s fine. I think I’m gonna go to my room now, but thanks for this lovely chat. See you tomorrow, if I’m alive.” You said the last part under your breath. He waved at you as you walked up the stairs.

The next day Harry was sitting with his friends, eating breakfast.

“Did you hear about that girl who was caught making out with another girl, what was her name, Y/N? Apparently she raped someone last night.” Seamus said while chuckling.

“That’s not true.” Harry said, looking straight at him.

“And how do you know?” He asked.

“You guys are so small minded, you’ll believe everything someone says. Maybe if you got the time to talk to her, you would know how nice and caring she is.” He snapped.

“Woah, Harry, it was just a joke.” Ron said, trying to calm him down.

“No, it’s not funny, start learning to be respectful.” That’s when he noticed she wasn’t at the table. She wasn’t anywhere to be seen actually. He immediately jumped up and ran out of the Great Hall.  “Y/N! Y/N!” He yelled into the common room, he didn’t hear anything so he ran into the girls bathroom. “Y/N!” He heard someone gasp. He ran around the whole thing until he heard sobbing. There he saw it, a truly broken girl who was surrounded by her clothing.

“Well, here you have it. The girl finally got what she deserved.” She said and thats when he noticed it, the rope hanging out of her bag. He went to reach for it, but she was quicker. “What was that?” He asked.

“It was none of your business.” She said. He tried to grab for the bag again but she pulled it away.

“Y/N, let me see.” He said, grabbing for it once again and this time succeeding. He opened it to fins all sorts of muggle pills and a rope that was already tied into a noose.

“You never know when you might need to die.” She said. He bent down to her level until he realized that you only had a bra and underwear on. He took off his robe and covered you in it.

“Y/N, this is a serious thing.” He said.

“Don’t you think I know that?” You snapped. “Just let me die, please.” 

“I’m not letting you die, Y/N.” He said and pulled her into a hug. You sobbed into his chest.