hp meme ~ [4/5] - deaths
4/5 - bellatrix lestrange

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hp meme ~ [4/5] - deaths
4/5 - bellatrix lestrange

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character posters ā hermione grangerĀ
@hogwartsgirlgangĀ event: trio ladies
@fortescuesnet event: get to know the members: favourite definitely alive characters : NIMPHADORA TONKS
ā -āNymphadora Tonks, who prefers to be known by her surname only," finished Lupin.
Ā -"So would you if your fool of a mother had called you 'Nymphadora,' " muttered Tonks. ā
H O G W A R T S Ā Ā H O U S E S
my idiot brother, soft enough to believe them
harry potter meme // [4/7] relationships

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the art of being a gentleman
because who doesnāt want a muggle au?Ā
James should be thinking about several things.
He should be thinking about his history course work due in two days or his match on Saturday. He should be thinking about the prefect timetable he has yet to organise and he definitely should be thinking about the niggling pain in the back of his knee and if he should mention it to his coach. What he categorically shouldnāt be thinking about is the pretty redhead at his bus stop and how he wants to kiss the colour out of her lips and hold it in his chest.
Sheās wearing those bloody jeans again, the same as the week before, that hug her legs and around her waist (and other areas James definitely isnāt looking at). The streetlamps have already clicked on, her skin is woven gold under the amber light.
He canāt look away, wonāt look away as she wanders up and down the bus stop, her fingers tapping at her phone screen and her mouth lifting into a lazy smile as she reads a text. Thunderous grey clouds hang heavy in the sky and he wonders if he is going mad, standing in the cold about to be soaked when with one call he could have a car pick him up with complimentary tea and biscuits.
The girl smiles again and he knows heās going mad because his heart is pumping in his throat and flowers are growing through his ribs. His phones rings and he lifts it to his ear, noticing there is still a smear of blood across his bruised knuckles.
āWe need your help,ā Sirius tells him. James can hear what he thinks is Pete trying to move a bed. āWhere are you?ā
āIām at the bus stop, I need to nip to the flat to grab something.ā James tells him, craning his neck to see if the bus is coming. The girl glances at him, pulling her bottom lip through her teeth. James flashes her a grin and blood burns up the neck he so desperately wants to press his lips against.
āI thought thatās what you were doing last week?ā Sirius replies.
āYeah, I just need something else.ā James winces at the silence that follows. Thereās another crash and Pete is violently swearing.
āThis wouldnāt have anything to do with that redhead who was on the bus last week, would it?ā
James canāt stop his eyes flickering to where she stands, leaning against a lamppost, her silhouette cut from the shadows. āErr- potentially- anyway why did you need me?ā
āWeāre trying to find Moonyās philosophy notes, heās hidden them.ā
He runs his hand through his hair, it needs a wash to get rid of the remnants of mud. āObviously, last time you used them you spilt gin all over them.ā
āThat wasnāt my fau- oh you utter bastard you know where they are donāt you?ā
James laughs and leans against the crumbling brick wall behind him. āLook, Pads, Iāve got to go, Iāll see you tonight.ā
Thereās more crashing and what sounds like āJames you fuckerā before James can press end call. The girl is staring at him, the corner of her mouth twitching. He pockets his phone with a sheepish grin at her. Heās about to ask her something, anything. Words are climbing up his throat and dancing across his tongue, a ballet of letters held between his teeth.
Then the sky opens.
The rain isnāt particularly heavy but itās the sort that seeps under the skin and lingers in the blood, Jamesās hair is already damp by the time he gets his hood up. The girl is shivering, her thin jumper soaked through. Jamesās legs start moving before his brain does, his hands unzipping his rugby bag and fishing out his school hoodie. The girl looks confused, James must too because heās not really sure what heās doing.
āHere, itāll stop you freezing to death.ā He says, offering it to her. She reaches for it, uncertainty spilling out of her eyes. āIām James, by the way.ā
āYouāre not a serial killer, are you?ā she asks once sheās tugged it over her head. He almost misses the question, thinking too much about how she would look in nothing but his rugby shirt.
Sheās staring at him expectantly, her brow crinkled ever so slightly.
āOnly on Thursdays, you should be safe.ā
She laughs, sunlight falling from her lips, her fingers tucking strands of copper hair under the hood. āIām Lily,ā she says. Lily. He nods, it settles in his stomach like itās always been there, Lily. The rain keeps up itās symphony on the pavement.
āSo how posh are you, on a scale of Eddie Redmayne to Prince William?ā she asks. Her eyes are alight, her voice bubbling like cheap champagne. He thinks he might be already drunk.
He raises an eyebrow, pretends to look offended, drinks in the light thatās pouring out of her. āMe, posh? Never.ā Her phone beeps but her hands stay tucked in the pockets of his hoodie, he lets a drop of warmth creep into his bones.
āSeriously though, I hear your school fees are insane.ā
He glances at the crest stitched into his jacket, into the hoodie, into his skin. Red and gold and laughter and adrenaline and home. āIām not that posh. Sirius, heās a lord, but Iām nothing special.ā
He knows the weight the name carries, knows the looks in the street, the eyes noting the tie and blazer, the polished shoes and tailored trousers. He knows what they think of, arrogance smirks and burnt fifty pound notes, wrecked cars and opportunities thrown about like paper in a classroom. Theyāre not all like that, heās not like that.
āA lord, huh?ā she says, āCan you get me his number?ā
closed
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