#prongs x reader

His usual name for you. You swallow, preparing for hurt, and force a smile.

“James.”

He grins. “You’re not working today?”

You nod. Sirius, who almost never even looks at you, had asked if you were scheduled for a shift today. You’re glad you aren’t. James refuses to let up on the conversation until you’ve clocked on, and even then he orders about five coffees just so you’ll need to bring them over and humiliate yourself further.

You don’t know why he’s chosen you. Then again, you never knew why boys picked you to make fun of. Maybe James noticed that you looked at him more than usual when rugby training ran late, and he had to come to class in his workout clothing. Maybe his friends have a running joke about your not-completely-made-up crush on him. You just wish he wouldn’t be so mean about it.

“Bummer. What will I do without my favourite waitress to annoy?”

You press your lips together. Yet again, the most difficult part about James Potter making fun of you is how much he can sound like he means it.

“I don’t know.”

He ducks his head to catch your eye when you look down. “Not to worry. I actually wanted to ask you something.”

“Oh, what?” You ask feebly.

You can hear the laughter edging his voice. “Would you want to grab a coffee together sometime? Maybe tomorrow, after our workshop?”

The boys who have teased you like this in the past have always spent much less effort building up to the inevitable peak of the joke. James must have a lot of time on his hands.

You frown, your disappointment slipping through for just a moment before you school your expression into something more neutral. He laughs, sounding confused. You wish you could hate him.

“Sure, James, why not?” You say tightly. It’s what he wants, the only thing that will end this joke properly.

“Are you sure? You don’t sound convinced,” he says breezily. “No pressure, sweetheart.”

But there is pressure, with all his friends pretending not to watch the two of you talking and preparing to laugh when James relays your agreement. The only thing that could be worse is if you said no, and the ugly side of his ego reared its head. You’ve never seen James be unkind to anyone in your class, except you in this extended prank, but you know the kind of spite that rises in boys if they’re rejected by a conquest they were never serious about. Boys in high school have called you enough vile things for you to learn that usually, it’s easier just to agree and let the humiliation of it wash over you.

“No, it’s fine. I want to go out with you.” You force another smile and pull down the hem of your shirt. “Tomorrow sounds good.”

“Best news I’ve heard all day,” James says. He turns to the front of the lecture hall and gives his friends a thumbs-up, which makes Marlene laugh. You feel your face heat. No matter how much you’ve become used to this, it doesn’t stop being hurtful. You wish you could ask him why he’s chosen you. Your looks and personality can’t be so terrible that you deserve this. “Sorry,” James says sheepishly, noticing your embarrassment. “They’ve been telling me to ask you out for ages.”

“Right. Okay, well, bye.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” James’ smile is blinding. You don’t know how he can look so warm when he’s being so mean.

Walking past his friends at the front of the room is uniquely difficult. They’re exactly the sort of people you wish liked you. They all seem to have so much affection for each other. It’s painful to feel like the only person they’ll be unkind to, for their shared entertainment. You wonder what mistake you made, what misstep caused them all to be nice to you sometimes, and then mean again when it’s funny.

You’re late to your workshop, and in a bad mood. Your tights have ripped on the outside of your thigh, where you scraped against a sharp bush. It still stings even after you’ve washed and put bandaids on the small cut there. You’ve run out of shampoo, so your hair has gone one day too long unwashed, and you feel oily and unclean. Your eyes itch. All of it gets worse when you see James across the room, sitting with his friends and watching you as soon as you step into the room. You take a deep breath and sit in the back corner, as far from him as possible.

“Did you sign the attendance form?” The other boy on your table whispers, sliding the paper across. It’s the only reason you’re here. You sign it and hand it to your professor, increasingly nauseated.

You can’t do this. You don’t want to stick around and watch him leave the classroom like nothing’s happened, or worse, treat this all like a prank you should be laughing at, too.

Fifteen minutes pass, and you wait for James and his friends to be focused on something Sirius is telling them to slip out of your seat and walk out the door. The hallway is empty, which is lucky, since you’re not sure you could stomach anyone seeing how close you are to crying.

In the spirit of the day’s unluckiness, you aren’t afforded privacy for long. Near the back doors of the building, you bump headfirst into Lily Evans and send the papers she’s holding flying everywhere.

Lily, redheaded and glowing, is president of just about every club the university offers, and can frequently be spotted with the same group you’re currently trying to escape. You heard a rumour once that she and James used to go out before she started dating her now-girlfriend, Mary.

She says your name, surprised.

“I’m so sorry,” you mumble. You kneel to gather her papers, made up of mostly posters to sign up for the university newsletter she manages. “That was stupid of me.”

“Don’t be silly,” she shakes her head, “I need to watch where I’m going. You don’t need to pick these up, lovely.”

“It’s okay.”

She seems to notice your expression, and puts a hand on your shoulder. You look at her, humiliation prickling down your spine at your obvious upset. You wish she didn’t know who you were. You wish she wasn’t so nice if it isn’t real.

“Are you okay?”

“Yep, sorry. Just feeling unwell,” you tell her. It isn’t completely untrue.

“You have your history workshop now, don’t you?” Lily says, gently rubbing your shoulder. It’s a long time since anyone’s touched you so softly. You wish you were friends. “Should I let James know you aren’t feeling well?”

You stiffen. “Why would you do that?”

“Weren’t the two of you supposed to go out later?” Lily’s brow furrows. “He told me you’d made plans.”

You stand abruptly, passing her the posters you’ve managed to gather. “Well, we haven’t. Why would he ever ask me to go out with him?”

Lily opens and closes her mouth. “I’m sorry, I’m a bit confused. I-“

“Sorry about the posters. I have to go,” you huff, stepping past her and out the doors. She says your name again, but you don’t look back.

It’s a miserable afternoon. A storm rolls over the city more quickly than you can make it to the station, and the rain is so heavy that several trains are cancelled due to flooding on the tracks. You’re soaked to the skin and shivering by the time you realise it’s been forty minutes, and class has probably finished. You wonder if Lily told James what you said. He’s probably having a big laugh about it with his friends now, saying he'd pay to see your reaction when you realise it wasn’t real.

You don’t cry until you get home, worried that he’ll turn up at the station or on the overcrowded train to witness it. Your roommates, if they hear your upset, don’t care. They tend to operate on their own schedules, and have little interest in what you’re up to. You’re both grateful and grieving for it. You wish you had a group of friends to tell this to, people who would reassure you that you’re not so obvious a target as the pattern has indicated. You wish you had someone who loved you, to tell you that they’d never joke about something like that, that their feelings are genuine. You wish, you wish, you wish.

You hadn’t planned on going back to university the next day, but there’s a football game on the telly that your roommates and their friends won’t listen to without the maximum volume. You don’t complain, just pack up your books and head back in the direction of campus.

The weather has cleared, and you’re not feeling so weighed down by what happened yesterday. Hopefully, James has purged whatever desires he had to humiliate you, and now you can move forward in anonymity. You consider asking the admissions office if you can switch classes, but you’re not sure it’s necessary. James and his group will probably leave you alone. It’s the way it usually goes.

“Hey! Shortcake!” You hear heavy footfalls behind you, and your stomach twists with anxiety. Shit. Even if your shared degree doesn’t have any classes today, James almost always has rugby practice on campus. You should’ve guessed. “Hey, slow down!”

You do slow down, but not by much. James is panting when he catches up to you, still dressed in his rugby uniform and smelling far better than anyone should when they’ve been doing hours of training.

“What is it?” You ask, more sharply than you think you’ve ever spoken to him.

“What happened yesterday? You just disappeared. Are you alright?”

How can he make his eyes so tender when you know he doesn’t care? A surge of frustration rises in your throat.

“I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

“Well, no it isn’t,” he gives you a half-smile, confusion etched across his handsome features. “We never got to go on our date. And Lily told me-“

“Who cares what Lily told you?” You snap, crossing your arms and coming to a stop. “I’m sorry I ruined your fun, James, but it’s been weeks of this and I’m not in the mood to be the punchline to some stupid joke.”

“What? I don’t know what you’re talking-”

“Please, please, just stop it!” You push your hair back from your face, hating the emotion in your voice. “I know you don’t actually like me, and I know you never actually wanted to go out with me, and I’m- I just want it to stop, please. I’m already having a hard enough time meeting people, I don’t need you making fun of me too.”

James is quiet long enough that you start walking again, but before you can get very far he’s caught you by the elbow. You gasp, mostly at the way his touch seems to burn your skin. He lets go immediately.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You didn’t,” you say, rubbing your elbow self-consciously.

“Can we talk? Please?” He says softly, searching your face like you’re hiding something. You feel the reverse, less burdened by pretence than you have been in weeks. It feels good to be angry at him, even if it’s painful at the same time.

“Fine.”

You go with James to sit at a bench along the edge of the path, sheltered by a tree with long, weeping limbs. The earth smells fresh from the rain.

“I didn’t know you felt as if I was making fun of you,” James begins carefully. “I never wanted you to feel that way.”

You almost roll your eyes. “I know. The whole point of the joke is that I don’t know I’m being made fun of.”

James scrunches up his face as if the idea is crazy. “What joke? What do you mean?”

“James,” you plead. When he looks no closer to admitting anything, you sigh. “Do you honestly think I ever thought you would genuinely flirt with me? Want to get to know me? Ask me out?” You laugh, but it isn’t as flippant as you want it to be. “I’m not stupid.”

“I never thought you were stupid,” he says immediately. “Why wouldn’t I do those things? Do you- have you thought this whole time that I haven’t really been interested in you?”

“It really doesn’t matter, James.”

“It really does. Is that how you’ve felt?”

You go to confirm the affirmative, but pause. It occurs to you that none of the other boys have ever cared this much about maintaining the lie, or about talking to you after the joke is through. “Isn’t that the truth?”

“No, not at all! Who told you that?”

You swallow, hard. “Nobody.”

“Why did you think it, then? Didn’t I seem genuine?”

You search your mind. Your face feels hot. “When you asked me out, you were laughing. Your friends were laughing.”

“Because I was nervous! And they were laughing because they found it funny that I’d been putting it off for so long- I usually rush into things. Talking to you without confessing my feelings has been a challenge in restraint, sweetheart.”

“What?” You swallow again, finding your mouth dry. You blink quickly. “So… you haven’t been joking?”

He shakes his head immediately, looking vaguely dismayed. “On my mum’s life, never.”

Prongs, what’s the point of just talking to her all the time?

You laugh again. It’s more out of disbelief than anything. “I’m so stupid.”

“You aren’t. You’re smart, that’s one of the reasons I like you so much. There must be a reason you didn’t think I was being serious,” James says.

“Besides the fact he was sitting right next to you?” You joke weakly, startled when he smiles like it’s actually funny.

“Yeah, besides that.”

“Look, a lot of boys used to ask me out as a joke in school. I’m not paranoid.”

“I’m not saying you are, but-“

“And I’m not very attractive, James, it isn’t crazy for me to assume you weren’t doing the same.”

He frowns, sobering up. “It is crazy. Firstly, you are attractive, and I don’t think you should speak that way about the girl I fancy.”

You have no idea how to respond to that, so you shrug.

“Secondly, those boys were twats who probably liked you and weren’t brave enough to own up to it.” He sees your skepticism and relents, “Even if they weren’t, it’s a horrible thing to do and was only about them, not you. I’m sorry it happened. Fuck them.”

“Fuck them,” you agree quietly. This has become an overwhelming conversation in a vastly different way than what you’d imagined. James is a very surprising person.

“I’m sorry if I seemed like I was joking, when I was talking to you this term. I think it was only because I was nervous.”

“I was nervous, too,” you admit. “Because I thought you were pretending, but also, I thought you were only doing it because you’d found out I had a crush on you.”

James does a very bad job trying not to look delighted. You feel warmed the same way you do walking into a cosy café in winter, from the outside all the way in to your bones. “Shut up,” you tell him.

“I didn’t even say anything!” He says brightly. “You had a crush on me?”

You shrug, refusing to look at him. All the anger you’d felt, and the drive you’d had to tell him off for it when you sat down, has gone out of you. Your mind is a whir of all the memories you’d categorised as unpleasant over the past few weeks, suddenly through a warmer lens. You imagine James’ friends laughing after class about how long he’s taking to ask you on a date, instead of how long you’re spending falling for the joke. You remember the way they’d exchanged glances whenever he went over to sit with you on the train, and imagine that it’s because they know how much he likes you instead of how much contempt they have for you. You almost feel guilty for assuming such horrible behaviour of them, despite how real it had felt at the time.

“Was that past tense?” James interrupts your thoughts. You frown at him.

“What?”

“You had or have a crush on me?”

You narrow your eyes. “I don’t know right now. This is very weird, James, give me a minute.”

“Okay! Okay, sorry.” He holds up his hands in surrender, leaning back against the bench and whistling lowly. “I think I must be the most oblivious bloke on this entire campus.”

You hesitate to agree when you’ve spent the past weeks believing something you’d completely made up.

“Not really. Are you sure you actually want to go out with me?”

He nods without hesitating. “I would say obviously, but-“

“Not to me.” You finish, feeling slightly embarrassed.

“Not to you, right. And you’re the only person who matters. I really am sorry.” He touches your shoulder. You don’t move away, even though it burns the same way it did before. It’s not a bad sort of heat. “Not that you should’ve had to, but why didn’t you call me out on it sooner? You must’ve been so miserable thinking I was dedicating all this time to bullying you.”

You think for a moment. “I think it’s usually easier if I go along with it. People don’t get offended if I don’t ruin the joke. I was pretty rude to you, to be fair. I thought it would’ve scared you off.”

“When were you rude to me?”

“Just the other day, at work.”

“What, when you said the café was closing at closing time?”

“…Yes. I didn’t say it as nicely as I could’ve. And other times, too.” It had been closing, truthfully, but it was the first time you hadn’t let James and his friends stay an hour late in a desperate bid to seem likeable. “I told you I had to focus on my notes, once.”

“In the middle of a lecture!” James is laughing, or trying not to with little success. It doesn’t feel like it’s at your expense anymore, so much as it’s at the situation. It is a little ridiculous. “I can’t believe that’s what you considered being rude, shortcake.”

“You never thought I seemed too suspicious of you?”

“It didn’t occur to me, given that you didn’t have something to be suspicious of, as far as I knew. I just thought you were shy.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Oh.”

“Are you secretly a massive extrovert? Honestly, babe, if I’ve been seeing the worst version of you these past few weeks, I must really be into you, because I think you’re wonderful just like this.”

Babe. That’s a new one. “I’m not an extrovert, I don’t think.”

James sighs like it’s a relief. “Good. I’ve got enough of them around, anyway.”

You smile, turning your face away. “You’re being so nice to me.”

“Yeah, and I’m breathing. And talking. Easiest things in the world,” James says, which is very cheesy and also quite nice. “Would you look at me?”

You do as he asks.

“Pretty girl,” he tells you, or calls you. You must look stressed by the compliment, because he laughs and cups your left cheek in his warm hand. “You’re such a sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

“Stop,” you protest quietly, but don’t move away. He has lovely eyelashes, and tiny freckles across his nose. His brown skin seems to glow, even in the shade of the tree.

“Can I take you on a date? Genuinely?” He raises his eyebrows in question. You can’t stop the corners of your mouth from turning up, even as you think about it for much longer than you need to. He traces lines on the soft skin under your eye with his thumb. “I really mean it.”

“Okay,” you agree. “You can take me on a date. Genuinely.”

He laughs happily, and leans forward before you can react. It’s only a kiss on the cheek, and then a quick one on your forehead, but they’re dizzying all the same. You know he must see you blushing.

“Thank god that was all so straightforward,” he jokes. You roll your eyes, letting him pull you to your feet as you stand. He shoulders your heavy bag of books before you can. “D’you want to go and study with everyone? They’re just in the library.”

“Are you going to be there?”

He looks over his shoulder. “Rugby training isn’t technically finished yet. I just saw you walking past, so-“

“I’ve taken you away from training?”

“You didn’t take me away. Anyway, they all know I have a thing for you, lovely, it’s alright.” James grins. “If you want to study in the stands for the last half hour of training, we can go and hang out with the group afterwards?”

You think it’s charitable for him to call them the group and not just my friends. “Do you think that’ll be okay?”

“Yeah. They all really like you- what, don’t tell me you didn’t know that, too?”

James looks so aghast that you can’t bring yourself to admit that you thought they all only tolerated you as part of James’ joke. “No, they’re all really nice. They do always seem sorry for me.”

“Only because I’m always flirting,” James says easily. “Lily says I’m torturing you.”

“You were.”

“Not in a bad way, though, yeah?”

You sigh, exhaling some of the hurt of the past few weeks. James has a really kind face, when you look at it properly. Soft eyes without a trace of malice. He’s the sort of boy you’d only fantasised about going out with, to prove to yourself that you were worth more than joking about.

You smile. “Yeah.”

The smell of fresh coffee fills the room even before you open your eyes. The aroma is warm, strong, mixed with the buttery sweetness of something freshly cooked. It’s a comforting smell, a homey smell, the kind that belongs to lazy mornings. But as your body begins to wake up, something else takes over—a heavier, lingering warmth that weighs on your muscles, a vivid memory that makes your face flush before you can even stop it.

You shift under the sheets and feel it.

Your body still soft, deliciously sore in all the right places. A faint, lingering ache that makes your stomach twist in a way that has nothing to do with hunger.

That’s when James walks into the room.

His blue eyes shine behind crooked glasses, an angelic smile plastered on his lips, as if he weren’t the one responsible for the state you’re in now. As if he hadn’t been there, just a few hours ago, with his hot breath against your skin, his hands firmly gripping your waist while the world crumbled around you.

He balances a tray carefully in his hands, walking over to the bed with the expression of someone who’s done nothing wrong.

You narrow your eyes.

“Good morning, love,” he murmurs, his voice low, lazy.

You glance at the clock on the nightstand and blink at the time. “Jamie, it’s late.”

He sits on the edge of the bed, setting the tray aside before leaning in and brushing your hair away from your face with a distracted tenderness. His gaze sweeps over you, attentive, lingering, taking in every detail—the tangled sheets around you, his shirt slipping off one shoulder, the warm flush still burning on your cheeks.

The corner of his mouth curves.

“I know,” he replies simply. “I wanted to let you sleep a little longer.”

Your breath hitches when he leans in even closer, his nose lightly brushing against your temple before he murmurs, low and conspiratorial: “You seemed like you needed it.”

The blush spreads even hotter across your face, and you shift, trying to escape that knowing look. But the movement makes your muscles protest, a sharp, lingering ache running through your body in a shiver that escapes as an involuntary sigh.

James notices.

You feel it when he holds his breath for a second. His gaze, which was soft and attentive before, becomes something else. A darker, deeper blue.

His fingers slide over your exposed thigh under the sheets, a light, lazy touch, as if testing a theory.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and there’s something in his tone—a mix of genuine tenderness and shameless pride.

You want to kill him.

“Jamie,” you start, but your voice comes out weaker than it should.

He smiles. And it’s a dangerous smile.

The kind of smile that doesn’t match the man who, now, has prepared such a thoughtful breakfast, as if he weren’t the same one who tore you apart with no patience last night. As if he hadn’t pressed his body against yours, his breath ragged in your ear, his fingers digging into your skin, holding you exactly where he wanted.

But now? Now he’s all tenderness.

His thumb traces a lazy circle on your thigh, a touch so delicate it barely tickles. His gaze is absurdly soft, his voice low and warm when he asks, with a genuine concern that would almost be touching, if it weren’t so annoyingly charming:

“Does it hurt a lot?”

You swallow hard, trying to ignore the shiver that runs down your spine at the way he watches you—as if he’s memorizing every tiny reaction of yours. As if he’s remembering what he did to leave you like this.

James lets out an almost regretful sigh before leaning in, his lips ghosting over your temple, the touch barely there. “You should’ve told me if I was being too rough, love.”

Your face burns.

Indignation rises in your throat, but it dies on your tongue when he chuckles softly, his fingers squeezing your thigh just a little before pulling away, picking up the breakfast tray as if he hadn’t just dropped a grenade in the middle of your thoughts.

James places the cup between your fingers, blowing on the rim of the porcelain as if to make sure the coffee isn’t too hot for you. Then, he breaks off a piece of croissant, buttering it with a care that makes no sense, before holding it between two fingers and bringing it to your mouth.

You frown. “I can feed myself, Potter.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Can you?” His voice slides into something low and slightly amused. “Because last night it didn’t seem like you could do much on your own.”

Your stomach drops.

His laugh is light, satisfied, but it doesn’t last long—because as much as James likes to tease, he likes taking care of you even more. And that’s why, instead of pushing, he simply brushes your cheek with his knuckles, his gaze sliding from your eyes to your mouth.

“Please, love.” His voice is low, velvety. “Do me this favor?”

You sigh, closing your eyes for a second, and open your mouth.

James doesn’t say anything, but his gaze brightens when you finally bite into the bread. He waits for you to chew, to swallow, to take a sip of coffee, before leaning in a little closer and murmuring, his breath warm against your skin:

“Good girl.”

The heat that shoots up your spine almost makes you drop the cup.

James pulls away slowly, and his smile is dangerously close to smug as he sits back down, taking your free hand just to play with your fingers between his. He presses a quick kiss to your palm before saying, casually:

“Now eat properly, love. You’re going to need to rest.”

Your body relaxes for a brief second.

Until he adds, with an undeniably mischievous glint in his eye:

“Why d’you ask sweetheart?”

“Was just curious…” you said, James took a deep breath “but we don't have to talk about it at all-”

“I have brown hair… I’d like to think I’m a very normal-looking bloke,” he said, you listened intently. “my mother says I’m a dashing young man, however”

“I don’t think she’s an unbiased source of information.”

“Yeah… i fear she isn’t-“James said with a chuckle, you laughed along, “My eyes are hazel, well they’re brown i swear they’re shit brown but Sirius says they’re hazel”

“whatever the hell that means”

“right? anyway, ummm i’m pretty tall, my hairs a mess always, I wear glasses”

“really?”

“yeah, they’re round, shitty little glasses i reckon-“

“didn’t know you wore any…”

“Yeah I’m blind as a bat,” James couldnt help the smile that spread through his lips as you laughed on the other side of the line. “Can I ask what you look like or is that forbidden?”

He heard your breath hitch before a couple of giggles left your lips. 

“It’s okay to ask, I just don’t really know how to describe myself”

“That’s quite alright— we can go step by step, what color is your hair?”

You answered with a laugh, and James continued. He asked about the length of your hair, the color of your eyes, if you smiled with teeth or pressed lips, he asked if you had long nails or kept them short, he asked everything he could, itching for a clearer image, itching to see you.

“Satisfied?” you asked when the questions died down, James simply hummed in response. He thought about it deeply, the curve of your face, the bow of your lip, his mind filled in gaps or left them in blanks, he couldn't finish clearing up the hazy figure of you. But he was determined now, he needed to see you, he needed to touch your skin, and to have you be more than just a voice on the machine.

He hadn't noticed you had started talking again,

-

You snatched the cigarette from your brother’s fingers, it hadn't even been two days of him staying at yours, and Charlotte was already a terrible influence on him.

“He’s a child, Charlotte, don’t give him this,” you scoffed as you crushed the cigarette under your shoe. 

“I’m sixteen-” your brother retorted, the dumb teenage drawl of his words making him sound more annoyed than he truly was

“Don’t care”

“My friends do it-”

“Don’t care”

“You do it!”

“Who said that?” You turn around this time, your brother stopping in his tracks. Charlotte lights another cigarette for herself behind him. You narrowed your eyes. Flickering back and forth between your brother, who had a sheepish smile, and your roommate, who didn’t dare meet your eye.

“No smoking, at least not while you’re with me”

“Deal,” you smiled, “but… I have a favor to ask.” Your brother’s grin widened even more as yours dropped. 

You should’ve known there’d be a catch.

-

“He’s a terror- truly” You said into the phone, whispered words while Charlotte distracted your brother with some crappy late night TV. 

“Surely it’s not that bad…” James laughed on the other side, breathless and excited to talk to you. 

“No it isn’t, I love the little brat but you know…” You picked at your cuticles, sighing into the phone, “It’s hard when they start growing up, it's different.”

“Different how?”

“Different like… I can’t accept he is growing older and is his own person, he’s my baby” James hummed in acknowledgement. “I don’t know… it’s silly”

“It’s not silly love, you’re allowed to be upset about it, that’s valid,” James was often this way, caring and sweet. You appreciated how in tune with your emotions he was. Sometimes you felt as if he had been made up in your mind. A figment of your imagination.

“Thanks James”

“Of course love-” a knock rang from your door, and your brother poked his head through the slightly opened door. 

“What’re you up to?” He narrowed his eyes “Who are you talking to?”

“None of your business twat, go back to the tv”

“Is it your boyfriend?” James tried pressing his ear further into the phone, praying he’d hear better

“It’s just a friend,” you whispered, tightening your lips into a thin line

“At least tell me its not that horrid man-“

“Alright enough said, i’ll talk to you later friend” you said into the phone

James said goodbye with a breathless laugh.

-

“So about this favor…” Your brother smiled, eyes filled with mischief. He had grown taller in his time at school, his hair had been cut short by your mother, probably against his wishes and the smirk that painted his lips was a newfound one. 

You raised an eyebrow, pushing your plate towards him so he could serve you food. He obliged reluctantly. A game of how much he could do to butter you up had started.

“There’s this event, a tournament, and all of my friends are going-”

“School friends or old friends?”

“School”

“Proceed-”

“There would be a parent coming, he has a government job, very responsible.” he nodded, you rolled your eyes playfully

“Right…”

“It would be just a weekend trip. Thursday to Sunday”

“That's…” You stared at him. mouth slightly ajar, “You know Mom’s going to kill us both.”

“That’s why she doesn't have to know, du.h” he said as he got up to get water, grabbing yours as well as you stared at him pointedly. 

“Do we have to pay for anything?”

“Just getting me to the pick up point… in Broomfield,” He said, a sheepish smile growing on his lips.

“Oh you are mental… Let me get this straight, you want me to drop you off in the middle of Broomfield, which is more than an hour away by car” you said, your brother nodded as he shoved food in his mouth, like it all made sense. “even though I have no car, so you can meet up with your friends and an alleged an adult to go… some other place to watch some sports tournament.”

“Sounds about right,” he smiled at you, cheeks puffy from stuffing his face with dinner, almost like he did when he was bright-eyed and eleven. Your heart stirred… Bastard.

“There’s a rugby field not far from here. You can invite your friends,” you said

He shook his head, putting his fork down. 

“You don’t understand, I have to go to this, it's the World Cup.”

“If you want rugby World Cup tickets, I’m sure I can score a pair, but… Broomfield, really?” You toyed with your fork, tracing vague shapes into your mashed potatoes. “You don’t understand. This isn’t any World Cup y/n, this is Quidditch, I have to go”

tags ; @ilovejamespottersomuch @ravisinghs-wife @hidontmindtheintrovert @stella-thestars @caspiankingofnarnia @lovelyteenagebeard @starkluvrr @hisparentsgallerryy @leilani13gc @katsusayhi @auroresce @lovemiss-vale @alessiaparigim @unconventional-lawnchair @moonydoodlez @eissaaaa @ailoda @nahhhwhatthefrick @notapoetjustscar @hiireadstuff @the-rat-king1902 @n1ght-vngel @littlewhitel1es @rreporterbby @santaasi @myheroworldandanimes @whimsical-mistakes @lalalandincraz @2dloveshp @loveyouprongs

permanent tag ; @laufeysvalentine @heyyyloverr

They had seen it in the way he treated his closest friends and they had most definitely seen it when they had seen him pine after Lily Evans, trying with everything in him to gain her affections.

However, after at least a hundred hairline cracks to his heart it was important to make the decision to move on from the red head before his heart broke in two.

It was hard to believe that the Potter boy had truly decided to put the red head behind him, even his friends weren’t really sure they believed him but it just so happened that the boy was telling the truth.

He no longer put on grand performances professing his love, no longer sent gifts via owl flying through the Great Hall and no longer tried to ask out Lily on a date.

Instead he took time to focus on himself, his studies and his friends.

It turns out that when your entire focus is simply on the girl you thought was the love of your life and pranking others it could really affect a person’s grades and so when Minnie had suggested the idea of a tutor he happily agreed with her, he wanted to prove that he really was serious about his studies and his future, not just to his professors but to his parents too.

He wanted to be more than a spoilt, rich boy that got handed everything he could ever need.

He wanted to earn the opportunities he was being given.

Lucky for him, he got a lot more than he was bargaining for when he walked into McGonagall’s classroom that day to find you sitting at one of the desks with your head stuck in a book, waiting for him.

Not only did his grades start skyrocketing but he found that with each tutoring session he spent with you a weight began to grow in his chest, only growing heavier with each moment you spent together.

He’d begin to look forward to seeing you there waiting for him, hair messily pulled back away from your face, eyes narrowed in concentration as you read whatever book you had with you that week, he thought you were adorable.

Slowly, he had accepted the fact that he did indeed, have a crush on you.

He approached it differently than he had with Lily though, instead of grand gestures and eccentric performances, he instead settled for subtle acts of service and innocent touches.

An entire two months he had spent sending subtle glances your way, asking innocent questions to get to know you better, strategically taking notice in the way you’d react to his minor compliments or soothing touches to try and find out if you in some way felt the same.

He thought you did, you had to, right?

He wasn’t imagining the way your cheeks would turn pink when he brushed his hand against you or the way you’d shyly refuse eye contact with him when he looked at you a certain way.

He couldn’t have been imagining it.

He wasn’t. When he eventually bit the bullet and asked you out on a date he couldn’t believe it when you had agreed.

A night spent in the Astronomy Tower with your favourite snacks as you spoke for hours and watched the stars had been the start of it all.

There was no doubt about it that James Potter loved you, Hogwarts had never seen him happier.

"He’s doing it again," Sirius groaned, seeing the way James was sitting with his head rested against his palm, seemingly in a daydream as he stared across the hall at you.

It would’ve been deemed creepy if they didn’t know he was staring at his girlfriend, you.

"Leave him alone, Padfoot, he’s in love," Remus teased, briefly glancing up from the novel he was reading, it amazed him every time at just how easy it was to read the emotions swimming in his friend’s hazel eyes.

"He was never like this with Lily," Peter piped up through a mouth of pastry.

Sirius gave him a look of disgust before commenting "He doesn’t even know who Lily is anymore, there’s only two women that exist to our Prongs here and those are his mother and the girl he’s currently staring holes into."

There was no indication that James had heard Sirius’ words but he suddenly jumped up from his seat, startling his three friends. "I need to go give Y/N a hug before she forgets about me." He briefly explained before hurrying towards his girl.

"What the fuck is wrong with him?" Sirius mutters in disbelief, all three of them turning to stare at where you were now in James’ arms, looking up at him with a loving smile.

There was no lie in the saying that Potter’s only fall in love once, they just first need to learn the difference between love and infatuation.

Only meeting a few weeks ago on a frantic night of music and drinking, Marlene had practically dragged you over to the tall boy with a grand smile spread across his bespectacled face.

You were so enamoured after your first introduction, you completely missed the way the boy - James - leaned tentatively over to Marlene to whisper words of admiration.

“Just like how you described…is it too early to ask for her number? So pretty…” the muttered compliments and queries were drowned out by the blasting music, assisted by your complete lack of self awareness as you pined over the way his hair tickled his neck when he leaned towards your roommate.

You had danced your way through the nerves, guided by the soothing rhythm of pumping bass and new beginnings as you formed a core memory with your roommate and new friends.

Tonight was a different story.

James stumbled around your living room, a few drinks too many compromising his composure as he rambled on the phone to his old girlfriend.

Marlene had told you all about James and Lily, king and queen of their grade, and the sudden end to their relationship after graduation.

While you were relieved to hear the boy was single, you couldn’t help feeling a tinge of jealousy as he rambled on about something excitedly, cheeks blushing and smile only growing wider.

You nursed your drink in your sweaty grasp, feeling the depressing effect of alcohol wash over you like a wave over the Scottish shoreline.

James passed subtle glances towards you, throwing his drink around in his hand as he spoke animatedly down the line to an undoubtedly amused redhead.

Your jealously sparked into unbridled envy, willing yourself to turn back time and dance carefree once again, grinning at the handsome new face as you crossed the dance floor blindly in your memory. You slumped in your seat, allowing your vision to blur as your eyes fell in your intoxicated haze.

——————— ⋆☆ ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

James was all but yelling down the line to his lover-turned-friend, gushing enthusiastically through a permanent smile. “Seriously, she’s so cute! I wish you were here to meet her, I think you’d really get along,” He rambled, glancing in your direction every second moment.

“Yes, Potter, I’m sure we’d form an unbreakable bond over shared experiences of being relentlessly pursued by you,” Lily quipped, voice laced with a lighthearted tease. “Oh, shush. You won’t have to deal with my antics anymore if this lovely girl has anything to do with it. I think I’m gonna ask her out tonight, Lils!”

Lily was the only person in the school-born friend group who moved too far away to attend any of Marlene’s late-night gatherings, only kept in the loop by drunken phone calls from the bustling London apartment.

She meant the world to James as one of his closest friends, so he assured her repeatedly that it was crucial she knew about his obsessive new crush before he made a move. Physical distance couldn’t stop him from updating her on every new development in the capital city, constantly obstructing the peace and quiet of her comforting cottage.

“Well, don’t let me keep you,” Lily sighed in partial satisfaction, but mostly in exhaustion at the late hour of the night. “Go get your girl, Potter.”

With that final encouragement, James passed on hurried farewells before hanging up on the past. Now, his gaze was fixed on his future. His cheeks heated at the sight of your soft face, eyebrows furrowed in drunken fatigue.

With a final breath of courage, he pushed through his chorus of friends, Marlene squeezing his shoulder as he passed in knowing encouragement.

Striding along the path of dirtied plates scattered across your dining table, he finally found comfort in leaning against the wooden surface just in front of your current seat.

——————— ⋆☆ ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

You stirred at the sound of a deep cough - James clearing his throat to gain just a moment of your attention. “Enjoying the party?” he laughed nervously, never one for small talk with a girl he fancied.

Your eyes winced as you forced your best, welcoming smile at the boy. “Yeah, I am, just uh- lost track of my drinking an hour or two ago…” you admitted, forcing your eyes open to meet James’ bashful gaze, feeling almost sinful at the pleasurable warmth that shivers through you at the sight of his golden eyes.

“So, listen- uh…Marls said you were too good for me and I can’t help but agree with her, I mean,” he shifted his weight to balance his drunken nerves, “you’re brilliant. But I promised myself I’d shoot my shot anyway.” He scrambled to sit beside you, abandoning his position against the table as you stared at him in wide-eyed disbelief, blinking in a fluster that successfully woke you from your alcohol-induced slumber.

“So, um…I really, really like you. You’re so bright and- and gorgeous, and I’m really quite obsessed with you,” he rattled with embarrassed laughter, “I thanked Marlene a thousand times over for introducing us, and I just can’t let an opportunity like this - with you - go to waste. So, with this liquid courage…” he shook the drink in his hand, “I was wondering if you’d want to grab dinner some time. With me. Just us.”

You might as well have called for “clean up on aisle your floor” because your jaw wouldn’t be lifted from the wood beneath your feet any time soon.

“I- I mean, yes! Of course! That…that would be great, James, really,” you responded on autopilot after stunned silence, lost in his lovesick gaze as you subconsciously leaned closer to his warmth. James lit up like a lamp at dusk, grinning ear to ear as you inched closer in unexplored yet familiar comfort.

“Brilliant.”

Your roommate and her friends watched on with smiling pride before leaving you to whisper and giggle like school girls sharing meaningless secrets, bathing in the light of blossoming romance over the candlelit remnants of dinner.