One Night

Jamie woke up to his 3:30 am alarm like usual. He rolled over, and cursed Roy Fucking Kent. Death was surely better than this torture.

“ Fuck meh…” he groaned himself, because why the fuck did he agree to this again? Oh yeah, because fuck Zava.

The light in the hallway flicked on.

“ Well darling, if you want more, it will have to wait.” Said a warm husky voice of a woman from his doorway.

Jamie looked up into the startling green eyes of probably one of the best lays of his life, Harry Potter.

“ Harry? Wa are ya up luf?” Jamie questioned, as she walked over in his bathrobe, and handed him a cup of hot tea.

“ It rained this morning. Thought you might need a cuppa to warm your bones.” Harry smiled at him, and a sheet of her red wine hair spilled over her shoulder, like some kind of damn underwear model. Jamie knew, in detail, what those girls were like and they could never match to the seductress without trying herself, Harry Bloody Potter.

Then she leaned in and kissed him soundly. Her warm lips are soft, and sensual. Jamie leaned into the kiss, chasing the memories of last night.

Jamie’s snooze alarm started going off. Growling, he searched for it with his hand blindly. He’s never hated this more. Harry’s lips were so lovely.

Jamie pulled away from Harry. “ I wish I could just stay here,” Jamie winged. She looked even more fuckable now. His bathrobe fell off her narrow shoulders, her hair tossed, and lips swollen. They were inviting him to swoop in for a kiss.

Harry leaned forward, and pushed their foreheads together. She looked at him under her eyelashes, and Jamie felt himself melt like butter into her. “ Remember what I promised. You can’t get rid of me now, Jamie Tartt. “

“And ya can’t get rid of meh, Harry Potter.” Closing his eyes Jamie remembered the most epic date of his life with this witch.

They had met at a movie awards dinner bullshit earlier that week. Honestly, Jamie could not remember for the life of him what it was actually for.

Jamie was getting his pictures taken alone, for the first time in a long long time, as a 25 year old footballer going stag. Old Jamie would have thought this was fucking sad, new Jamie was enjoying it.

When she walked onto the red carpet in a floor length red gown with a slit to high heaven, Jamie Tart's heart actually stopped.

Harry Potter.

She was more stunning in person. Long red wine hair, porcelain skin and those wicked green eyes. She looked unearthly beautiful.

Jamie Tartt could not take his eyes off her.

Oh course, like every other British Citizen, he read every piece of news when he was 18 about the actual fucken wizards and witches that,“ Came out of the broom closet”, as they came to calling it. They had all been living right under their noses since the witch trials. For hundreds of years these people, thought to be an actual fairy tail, lived separated from the world, but now with technology they could no longer do that. Young Jamie, could not get over that there was a whole people with: culture, music, their own fashion and national sport(That they played on bloody brooms, wild). These people just disappeared into the corners of the world like it was nothing. It was totally amazin.

He will never forget when they started toting out their own versions of celebrities. Witches and wizards renowned for acts of magic that Jamie could barely understand.

There was one witch that he did try his best to understand.

Jamie can remember it clear as day, when Harry Potter walked her first red carpet at 17, and he was 19. His mother pointed her out to him one morning over the paper. “ Look at this Jamie, they call her The Woman Who Concord. Isn’t that wonderful? Goes to show even an orphan from Surrey can save the whole world.” His Mum had smiled and read the rest of the article. When normally she just flipped right to the sports, to see if the punters said anything about him.

Jamie wants to say that’s why he talked to her. But really he was magnetically drawn to her, the moment she walked by him on that red carpet. Like a damn moth to a street light. He needs her.

The footballer all but ran to the table when he saw they were sitting together. Harry was waylaid by the wizards around her, shaking her hand, and adoring her. Jamie worked fast, and found the bloke who was supposed to sit next to her. In an inspirational blast from his dickhead past, swamped the name tags, best decision ever.

They ended up talking the entire dinner. Then left as soon as it was remotely polite and got ice cream. The small delicate bits of food are not enough for either.

Then Harry promised to take him to the best ice cream ever in the wizarding world. She was making plans to see him again. Jamie had not felt like this even before about a girl in his life.

She just looked so happy. Jamie swore up and down, Harry was glowing. It’s probably why his game was so bad. He just kissed her then and there on the bench of the ice cream shop. When she was trying to describe to him the wonders of quidditch.

She may have been a tad surprised at first, but oh boy did Harry kiss back.

Jamie Tartt could not remember the last time he was so thoroughly snogged. Him, the fucking footballer, kissed within a inch of his life.

When they pulled away Harry’s vanilla ice cream was melting down her hand, and she didn’t even care. Harry Potter, savor of the wizards, was totally focused on him.

“ Want ta get dinner tomorrow?”

And they had been inseparable ever since. Every moment they had free time they spent it with each other. Dinner turned into dinner in. Which leads to sex for into the wee hours in the morning. Then breakfast the next morning. After that the next day, a pint at the pub. Then a hike, which they somehow ended up napping the day away on the couch in a cuddle puddle.

This whirlwind led Jamie Tartt to this exact moment. Harry was pushing his work out clothes into his hands. While they both listened to the obnoxious pounding on his front door from Roy Kent.

“ Oí Tartt! “

Snagging another kiss, Harry brushed her hands through his long hair with such a fond look, “ Go brush your teeth and slash water on your face. I’ll distract him,” Smiled Harry. Then flounced out of the room.

He probably wasn’t awake.

Sure he will blame it on that.

It was just barely 4 am.

Jamie looked up at himself in the mirror. Stared at himself in horror.

It wasn’t till Harry left that he realized. Two of his boyhood crushes would be downstairs talking to each other, at 4 bloody o’clock in the morning. One of them, completely naked under his bathrobe. The other, a old fucking thirsty cunt.

“ Fuckin Christ.”

Never before had Jamie got ready so quickly for a 4am run in his bloody life.
Taking the steps four at a time, he pounded down them, and reached the landing. Throwing on his shoes without even trying them. Jamie could hear Harry’s tinkled laughter and Roy’s rough voice answer her. Fuck fuck fuck fuck! Then continued down the rest.

And there they were.

Harry, looking fucking stunning, in his robe. Sipping her tea, calm as a cucumber.

Then there was, fucking Grandad Roy fucking Kent. Looking at his girl like a nob, practically panting with a goddamn headlight on and trackies.

Harry turned, “ There you are darling, “ God, Jamie loved it when she called him that, made him warm to his toes. Then she kissed him on the cheek, “ Have a good run.”

“ Thank luf,” Jamie kissed her back.

Then she turned, totally ignoring Roy Kent, and went back up the stairs. Both Roy and himself can’t keep their eyes off her.

The lights went out when Harry was out of sight and Jamie barely heard her delicate feet on the floor, and there was a slight creak of the floorboards. Then nothing.

“ How the fuck did you bag The Chosen One?” Roy scowled.

Jamie ushered him out the door and shut it gently so as not to wake her. He started jogging in place, he grinned because “ Wouldn’t ya like ta fucken know?”