Chapter 5
The door swung open with a force that echoed through the room, and Harry barged in, his heart pounding with a mixture of urgency and anxiety. "Dad, dad, dad!" he urgently called out, his voice slicing through the stillness of the room.
James was sprawled on his bed, snoring peacefully, a potions book covering his face. Unfazed by his son's frantic entrance, he continued to enjoy his slumber until Harry decided to take matters into his own hands. "Dad, wake up!" Harry shook him vigorously with the kind of fervor one might reserve for waking someone during a life-or-death situation.
The abrupt awakening brought a string of curses from James as he squinted, attempting to make sense of the situation. "Bloody fucking hell, Harry, what's the matter?" he grumbled, his eyes struggling to focus on his son's face as he was rudely awakened from his peaceful nap.
"Dad, you have to hide Mom's stuff. Hermione is coming here, and I don't want her to have a nervous breakdown when she sees your wedding photos or pictures of her pregnancy” Harry spoke rapidly, his words tumbling over each other.
With an exasperated groan, James rubbed his eyes and tried to sit up. "Can't this wait?" he mumbled, but Harry was already on a mission. He started grabbing framed photos and stuffing them into drawers without a second thought.
"Be a tad more careful, won't you?" he protested, his disheveled appearance indicating the peaceful nap that had been disrupted. He attempted to straighten his rumpled uniform and tame his unruly hair, but Harry's urgency left little room for such considerations.
"Dad, she's practically at the doorstep! Give me a hand, for the love of Merlin!" Harry exclaimed, darting around the room like a tornado, erasing any trace that indicated Hermione and James were a married couple.
James sighed, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, trying in vain to tame his unruly hair. "Fine, fine, but make it quick. I was having the most wonderful dream about your mother,"
Harry cringed, his face contorted in a mixture of disbelief and mild disgust. "Gross, Dad, I didn't need to know that. She's still my best friend, you know," he protested, a hint of embarrassment coloring his cheeks.
James, unfazed by his son's discomfort, simply shrugged. "She's my wife. I'm allowed to have as many dreams as I please about your mother," he retorted, a wicked gleam in his eye.
Harry rolled his eyes, a mixture of embarrassment and amusement on his face. "Just keep them to yourself, please." he groaned, shaking his head. “Seeing you in a crop top scared me for life. I don’t need you to add to the trauma.”
James burst into laughter, his deep chuckles reverberating through the room. He couldn't resist the opportunity to tease his son further, ruffling Harry's hair, who protested with a cry and an exaggerated pout. "Hey, it's practically in my job description to embarrass you. It's what dads do," he declared with a grin, fully embracing the role of the mischievous parent.
"Dad, calling yourself 'World's sluttiest dad' is not okay. Not in the '70s, not in the '90s either. Who the fuck gifted you that?
"Your mom did”
The color drained from Harry's face, "I didn't need to know that," he whispered, his voice barely audible, his expression deeply disturbed. "I'm going to need a psychologist and bleach. A lot of bleach to erase that image from my mind."
"Harry, are you in there?" Hermione's voice rang out from the other side of the door, bringing an abrupt end to the surreal moment.
Harry shot a panicked glance at his dad, who had a sly grin on his face, clearly reveling in the impending chaos. "Uh, yeah, just a sec!" he stammered, his voice cracking as he hurriedly tried to compose himself. "Hey," he hastily swung the door open, greeting his best friend slightly breathless. Hermione's raised eyebrow betrayed her curiosity as she surveyed the scene.
"Just coming to see how your father was settling in," she remarked, the corner of her lips lifting in amusement.
"Worried about me, are you, Angel?" James smirked, a glint of mischief glimmering in his eyes as he unabashedly enjoyed his wife's reaction. Hermione's cheeks tinged with a rosy hue, a clear sign that the comment had hit its mark.Amidst the tension, Harry's eyes widened in panic as he noticed the overlooked photo of his parents caught in a passionate kiss after a Quidditch match. Desperation seized him, and he rapidly moved to divert Hermione's attention, gripping her shoulders to keep her from turning around.
"Weren't you supposed to be with Nott?" he asked, attempting to sound casual, though his feigned indifference couldn't entirely mask the underlying urgency.
"We've kind of broken up," Hermione replied awkwardly, confusion clouding her features. "Harry, why are you acting so strange?"
James, ever the smooth talker, stepped in to ease the tension. "Just nervous for his upcoming Quidditch match, Angel. No need to fret," he reassured, shooting Harry a conspiratorial wink.
With a subtle flick of his wand, James discreetly relocated the incriminating photo to a drawer, bringing a sigh of relief from Harry. "Potters and Quidditch," Hermione rolled her eyes, blissfully unaware of the turmoil that had unfolded moments before. "You'd marry your own broom if you could."
James leaned casually against the wall, a boyish grin playing on his lips. "I'd rather marry you," he flirted, his tone smooth and playful, "Just set the date, love."
Hermione's eyes sparkled with amusement, her lips curving into a teasing smile. "Don't seem to have a ring on my finger, Potter. I guess that means I'm single," she pouted with mock sadness, a playful glint in her eyes. "I'll guess I'll have to go and find myself a boyfriend," she added, turning towards the door.
Caught off guard, James gaped momentarily before snapping into action. "Absolutely not," he growled, moving swiftly to reach her before she could leave. His arm gently encircled her waist, pulling her back towards him with a possessive determination. "You're mine," he declared, surprising both Hermione and himself with the edge of intensity in his voice, his eyes locking onto hers.
Hermione, her playfulness now laced with a hint of genuine surprise, blinked up at James before breaking into a cheeky grin. "Oh, am I?" she teased, deliberately feigning innocence as she tilted her head, thoroughly enjoying the sudden turn of events.
"I'm not the jealous type, love, but what's mine is mine," James whispered seductively, the hint of a playful smirk playing on his lips. His eyes held a glint of possessiveness that danced on the edge of flirtation.
Hermione's response was a sly smile as she leaned in, their faces inches apart. "Well, Mr. Potter, you're going to have to prove it," she challenged, her voice laced with a subtle mixture of amusement and anticipation.
James, caught between surprise and delight at Hermione's unexpected teasing, managed to find his voice, though it was a bit breathless. "You are going to be the death of me, Granger," he uttered with a mix of exasperation and a hint of admiration,
Harry, witnessing the rare sight of his usually boisterous father momentarily stunned, couldn't help but chuckle under his breath. He stood there, caught between amusement and mild exasperation, as he observed the ongoing flirting before him.
"Oi, get a room, will you?" their son quipped with a teasing smirk, unable to resist poking fun at his parents. "There's still a very young, innocent, impressionable kid in the room, you know?" His tone carried a perfect blend of mock innocence and mischief, his eyes dancing with amusement.
Hermione, stepping back from James, felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her. She cast a glance at her son, her face flushing with a mix of mortification and amusement, while James sported a self-satisfied grin, his arm still comfortably around his wife's waist.
"You're anything but," The brunette scolded Harry, her tone taking on a mild, motherly note. She pointed an accusing finger at her son, the gesture adding a touch of authority to her words. "Do you know how many times I have caught you sneaking around, young man?"
Harry, caught off guard and now at the receiving end of the conversation, couldn't help but squirm under the scrutiny. "When did this become about me?" he exclaimed, a deep shade of red coloring his cheeks as he tried to deflect the attention away from his own escapades. "You're the one flirting with my dad!"
Hermione, undeterred, raised an eyebrow in a self-assured manner. "He's the one flirting with me. Not the other way around,"
"He's older than you," Harry countered, trying to grasp onto any argument to shift the spotlight away from his own love life.
"He's 21,"
"Still older than Vicky,"
"It's a five-year gap,"
"That's borderline jail,"
"He's your dad,"
"Don't fucking care. Still jail,"
"You started liking Ginny in our fourth year. That's jail for you too,"
"I resent that. I started dating Ginny last year,"
"You were always ‘Ginny this, Ginny that’. Following her with that stupid Map,"
"It's not a stupid map. It's the Marauder's Map," Harry retorted, a hint of hurt in his voice at the insult directed towards his prized possession.
"So, I guess it runs in the family?" James suddenly added, feeling left out, remarked with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Both mother and son turned to him in unison, their expressions a mix of irritation and defiance. "SHUT UP!" they chorused, making James widen his eyes in a sudden fear, instinctively raising his hands in surrender.
"I refuse to be berated by a person who isn't even in a relationship," Harry sassed, his tone defiant as he attempted to deflect the conversation.
Suddenly, a flock of canaries materialized around Hermione, who sported a cruel smile. The atmosphere in the room shifted as both Potters exchanged anxious glances,
"Shit," they both whispered in unison, swallowing hard as they braced for the inevitable.
"I'm going to give you a 5-second lead, Harry," Hermione declared in a saccharine sweet voice that sent a chill down their spines.
Fuck, fuck, fuck," Harry shouted, panic evident in his voice as he bolted out the door, the sound of hurried footsteps echoing through the corridor fully aware of the incoming avian assault.
"Oppugno,"
"Look at that," sneered a mocking voice, the words laced with contempt. "Saint Potter has decided to cuckold She-Weasel with the Mudblood."
Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted. Draco found himself violently slammed against a bookshelf, the sharp corner digging into his back. The pain shot through his back, and he struggled to breathe as the wind was knocked out of him.He felt the cold steel of someone's grip around his throat, and before he could react, he was lifted off the floor by the collar of his shirt.
"What the fuck did you just call her?" hissed a voice, thick with venom, right beside Draco's ear.
Draco winced as he dangled from the collar of his shirt, the sneer on his face now replaced by a mixture of surprise and discomfort. He tried to regain his composure, but the intensity of the hazel-eyed stranger's grip made it difficult.
"Touchy, are we?" Draco spat back, attempting to mask the unease in his voice. "Didn't know Granger had a bodyguard now." The grip on his shirt tightened, making it harder for him to speak.
"I said, what the fuck did you just call her, Malfoy?" he growled.The hazel-eyed boy leaned in, his face inches from Draco's.
"You're not Potter. Who the fuck are you?" Draco demanded, his bravado waning as panic set in. "You're not getting away with this unscathed," he managed to spit out, a touch of desperation in his voice. “My father will—”
"Will what—Hear about this? You’re pathetic,” James mocked cruelly, his words cutting through the air like a knife. "Name's James. And if you ever insult Hermione again, you'll find out just how much trouble you can get into without running to Daddy. Understand?"
Draco nodded frantically, his eyes widening with a mix of fear and humiliation. James dropped him to the floor, and Draco stumbled backward, clutching his sore throat. He shot a venomous glare at James, but the hazel-eyed boy seemed unfazed, standing tall with an air of superiority.
As James made a sudden, threatening move as if to strike, the Slytherin hastily stumbled over his own feet in his hurry to put distance between himself and the hazel-eyed enforcer.
"Pathetic," the Gryffindor spat, his eyes still ablaze with anger and his disdain evident as he watched the platinum-haired figure scamper away. Suddenly, he felt soft hands encircle his waist. A voice, carrying a tone both grateful and disapproving, spoke from behind, muffled by the fabric of his shirt.
"You didn't have to do that, you know? I can handle myself," the voice chided gently.
Turning his neck slightly, James discovered a head of brown curls nestled against his back. Chuckling, he maneuvered in the person's arms and fixed his hazel eyes on chocolate brown ones.
"I think you like my abs more than you let on, Angel," James teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes. In response, he received a swift pinch on the waist from the person behind him, causing him to hiss in pain.
"Abuse, woman. That's abuse," he playfully protested, his eyes dancing with a combination of amusement and mock outrage.
The girl rolled her eyes, a playful smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “You’re such a boy sometimes.”
James puffed out his chest. "I’m not a boy. I’m a man."
“A man-child,” She chuckled, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of affection and exasperation. “A man-child with an overinflated ego. One might’ve thought you’d grown up after Hogwarts but I guess that's not the case."
"I'm a grower, not a shower. I'll give you that," James smirked down at her, a mischievous glint in his hazel eyes, enjoying the effect of his words on her.
"You did not just say that," she deadpanned, her face turning a shade of pink that betrayed a mixture of embarrassment and excitement.
"'S true," James said, greatly pleased with himself. "I can show you if you want," he added, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, "Just have to ask, Angel."
Hermione eyed him up and down, deciding to play with him a little. "You're probably average. Nothing that I haven't seen before."
"You did not just say that," James growled, a sudden twinge of jealousy flickering across his features at the remark about his wife’s intimate prowess. The possessiveness in his voice betrayed a hint of vulnerability as he tried to mask his reaction.
"Yep, definitely," Hermione smirked wickedly, enjoying the reaction she was eliciting. "Teddy's surely bigger than you. In every way," she teased, watching with satisfaction as James clenched his jaw,
Suddenly, the brunette found herself pressed against the cool stone wall, his breath grazing the sensitive skin of her neck. Nervous anticipation coursed through her veins, and the proximity of his body left her acutely aware of every inch that separated them.
"Repeat what you just said," he whispered in her ear, his voice a seductive murmur that sent shivers down her spine. His fingers traced slow, deliberate circles on her waist, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake.
Hermione bit her lip, caught between the intoxicating thrill of anticipation and the nervous excitement of being pinned against the wall. "Teddy…Teddy's bigger than you," she confessed breathlessly, her words hanging in the air like a daring challenge.
"Are you trying to make me jealous, Angel?" James growled, his voice tinged with possessiveness making her heart race. His fingers tightened around her waist as if staking a claim to what was his, the warmth of his touch seeping through her clothes. “Is that what you're trying to do?
"M’ not trying. It's the truth. Teddy is bigger," she replied, her breath hitching as she felt the intensity of James's gaze on her. She savored every word, knowing she was walking a fine line between daring and danger. She wanted to know what James's breaking point was.
"Shut up," he snapped, his frustration evident in the low, husky tone of his voice. His hazel eyes burned with a mixture of irritation and desire, locking onto hers with an intensity that only fueled the fire between them.
"I told you, Potter, I'm too hot for you to handle. Teddy was the only one who knew how to hit the right spots."
"Shut up," James growled again, his gaze never wavering, fixated on her with a blend of frustration and longing, as if struggling to contain the rising heat between them.
"Make me," she challenged him, a devilish smile playing on her lips. The air crackled with tension as they locked eyes, each daring the other to make the next move.
"You love this, don't you?" James murmured, his lips trailing delicate kisses down the elegant curve of her neck. Each kiss left a tantalizing burn, causing a symphony of shivers to dance across her skin. The heady scent of his cologne mingled with the undeniable tension in the air. A soft, breathy expletive escaped her lips, a testament to the overwhelming sensation of his touch. The rhythmic pulse of her heart echoed in her ears, the sheer intimacy of the moment intensifying the connection between them.
"You enjoy making me jealous, little witch? Of course, you do. You enjoy telling me how he touched you, don't you? How he made you scream with pleasure. Answer me," he demanded, his voice hoarse, a blend of jealousy and lust palpable in every word.
"I do," she whimpered, her response a fragile admission that hung in the charged atmosphere like a whispered confession. His hands moved deliberately, tracing a path of arousal over her body, heightening the senses and leaving her breathless. "Fuck, James."
"That's it, love. Say my name," James urged,his lips reclaiming the delicate skin of her neck with a fervor that drew out broken, ragged sighs. The intensity of his passion sent a jolt of desire coursing through her, her body responding to his every touch. "You're mine. You're neither Nott's nor Krum's, and you're definitely not Weasley's. Mine and no one else, understand? Say it. I want to hear those words from that beautiful mouth of yours."
"Fuck, fuck," she whimpered as James kissed a spot just below her ear. The request echoed in the room, each syllable vibrating with a hunger that matched the tempo of their hearts.
"Say it," he insisted, inhaling her perfume, the air thick with desire. "Fuck, you're killing me here. Say it. Say that you're mine," he turned away from her, fixing his intense gaze on hers, his dilated pupils revealing his own heightened state of arousal.
Hermione tangled her hands in his messy black hair, giving it a slight tug that earned a low moan from him, "No." The older boy pressed her even further into the wall, their breaths heavy with anticipation. She raised an eyebrow at the scant space left between them, her voice a sultry whisper, "Is that your wand or are you just happy to see me, Potter?" Her thumb traced a slow, deliberate path along his lower lip, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.
Ignoring her question, he fired back, "Is that how you liked having your boytoy? You made him beg, didn't you?"
A self-satisfied smirk adorned her lips, "I had him beg on his knees," she declared, smiling with an air of arrogance. "Are you going to get on your knees for me, Jamie?" Her eyes sparkled as she held his gaze, the air thickening with the magnetic pull between them
James felt a sudden, involuntary shiver coursing through his entire being as the familiar pet name fell from her lips. The weight of nostalgia and a myriad of emotions engulfed him, making him acutely aware of the years that had passed since the last time he heard that endearment. "I'm not some wide-eyed sixteen-year-old you can boss around, Angel," he declared, his gaze piercing hers.
Her lips curled into a sly smile, her eyes glinting with a mischievous spark. She tilted her head slightly, "True," she purred, the timbre of her voice smooth as silk, "You're just a twenty-one-year-old I can boss around."
"You're driving me to the brink of madness, and you're fully unaware of the effect you have on me, aren't you?" " the hazel-eyed man breathed out, his words dripping with both reverence and an unmistakable hunger that seemed to engulf him entirely.
"It’s driving me crazy, knowing that another man has had the privilege of exploring the contours of your body, exploring the curves that should be reserved for me alone," he continued, his voice a low, raspy whisper.
"The mere thought of another man leaving a mark upon you making you scream with pleasure , eliciting those unrestrained moans of pleasure from you, while I've yet to taste the sweetness of your lips, is a torment in itself." he admitted, his voice a low, raspy whisper.Hiis eyes darkening with a combination of jealousy and longing.
He closed the distance between them. His lips, achingly close, hovered over hers, "But you want to know what truly sends me spiraling into complete insanity?," he confessed, his voice dropping to a husky murmur, "The knowledge that another man has dared to claim you as his own when, in truth, it's me you belong to. You are not merely an object of my desire; you embody the very essence of my existence, Hermione"
The intensity in James' gaze bore into her soul making her heart race. The way he studied her left her feeling vulnerable yet desired in a way she had never experienced before. The black-haired man, with his tousled locks wielded an intoxicating power over her. His presence was magnetic, driving her to the brink of delirium with every stolen glance.
In his eyes, she found a reflection of her own desires, a mirroring of the yearning that resided deep within their souls. He stirred a maelstrom of conflicting sensations—derise and hate, anger and lust—all merging into a potent cocktail that left her intoxicated and breathless.
And then, there was love—a force so powerful and dangerous that it threatened to consume her entirely. It was a revelation she had never anticipated, a vulnerability that left her exposed and defenseless.
"I love you," she stammered, her voice barely more than a whisper, carrying with it a delicate mixture of trepidation and raw vulnerability. Her eyes, wide and earnest with almost palpable fear as if she had bared her soul in that single moment.