The air was silent the night you planned to sneak out.
It wasn’t just you, of course. The four of you– Y/N, Sirius, Remus, and of course James– were set for adventure. You’d even packed a Muggle knife in your boot.
“Alright, there?” James materialized next to you in the common room, sending you three feet in the air, your wand pointing at his throat.
“ Stop doing that,” you said once you got your soul back into your body, hitting him with the Herbology book you’d stolen from the library.
James just grinned at you, that crooked, winning smile.
Remus was the next down to the common room rendezvous, dragging a yawning Sirius and making eye contact with you, then giving an exasperated look at his friend.
“Why d’we have to do this so early?” Sirius bemoaned.
“You know why, you prick,” you muttered, glaring. The Black heir groaned pitifully, which you rolled your eyes at.
It was your reputation as an Herbologist that this mission rode on, and that should have scared you. If you got caught– not that you ever got caught– you faced disgrace and expulsion.
So, a typical night as a Marauder.
Sirius opened his mouth to respond to your eyeroll, but James cut him off, leaning in.
“She already slammed me with her book, mate,” he warned.
Sirius yawned again, clearly not threatened. This also annoyed you.
“We need to hurry if we want to be back before the sun’s up,” you cautioned anyway, starting towards the portrait hole.
“Yes, Mother Y/N,” said James, saintlike, and you surprised him with a significant blow to the ribs with your book. Air whooshed out of him, but even before he was done being winded, he was laughing. Always good-natured, that James.
Since you had never mastered an Animagi form, James pulled you under his cloak while the others transformed. The four of you left the Gryffindor tower, and you kept scolding James quietly for walking too slow.
“Slow’s better, I figure, right?” he grinned.
You itched to hit him with the book for the third time in five minutes, but you didn’t want to knock the cloak out of his hands.
“I always knew you’d only be able to figure what it’s like to be anything but fast, Potter,” you said.
It took him a second to work out the insult. By the time the four of you were bursting out onto Hogwarts grounds, he finally snorted.
That was the thing about James. He always laughed at your vicious insults. It had been like that since the first train ride, first year, when Sirius had hit on you and you called him a long-haired dandy boy.
“I can more than figure, Y/L/N. Ask your mother,” said James.
Now you snorted.
You flashed your friend an amused grin before stepping out from the cloak. The four of you were now at the Lake’s edge, exactly where you needed to be.
“My mother hates you, Potter,” you said.
“Lies,” said James. “Your father though–”
“Enough flirting,” said Remus, exasperated annoyance flashing in his eyes as he looked the two of you over.
Remus was the only one not transformed or hidden. However, people seemed not to notice Remus when he was “all by himself.” As long as he didn’t eat anyone or otherwise wolf out, he was mostly left alone.
“Not really, he can flirt with my dad as much as he pleases,” you said as you knelt down to study the water’s edge.
The soil was moist, brackish. It definitely smelled like lake, like algae, a scent you loved. A small cluster of white mushrooms grew, but you ignored them. Sirius had once thought they were “funny” mushrooms, and despite your warnings and Remus pointing out that Hogwarts probably wasn’t growing fucking mushrooms on campus, he’d eaten them.
He’d spent a week in the infirmary.
After that, everyone paid attention to your Herbology knowledge. Not that the four of you pulled off too many herb-based capers, but it was still nice to be known as an expert in something for once. Good old Y/N, always the accomplice, never the master mind. Taken in like charity by the most popular boys in school.
You took the knife out of your boot and started scraping at the layer of sediment at the edge of the Lake. Then you felt someone standing behind you, close.
You looked back, annoyed, already knowing it was James. “About to demonstrate what you did to my dad?” you said easily.
“Your skirt,” said James, his eyes not meeting yours.
You felt your brow furrow before you realized what he meant. You hadn’t really thought much about your clothing choices when getting dressed for this escapade, just threw on your uniform, sans cloak and plus a warm sweater. You must have been flashing your entire group of friends.
“Right,” you said, thanking James silently before refocusing on the task.
Although, who cared if you flashed your friends? You’d seen Remus naked thousands of times after transformations. You’d seen James shirtless multiple times, Sirius naked at every goddamn turn. It was just what happened when you had a group of friends, a family, like this.
It took a couple more minutes of scraping the sediment. Sirius appeared, still yawning.
“D’you think maybe it doesn’t grow here?” he asked, bored, eyes going back to the castle longingly.
“If Y/N says it grows here, it grows here,” said James, still blocking your panties from flashing the entire group. You were aware that, from far away, it could look like he was bending you over, but you didn’t particularly care.
Sirius yawned again. “It’s nearly sunrise,” he groaned. “Why don’t we come tomorrow–”
You pointed your dirt-crusted knife at him. “It lives for only one night, and lasts for only one day. We’d have to wait a whole year, Pads, and we won’t be here in a year.”
Behind Sirius, Remus covered a laugh.
Sirius stared at you, bewildered. “You mean…?”
“Not mortally. I meant here. At Hogwarts.”
You turned back to the Lake’s edge, scraping harder.
Remus appeared, defending you, always a mother. “This is Y/N’s vendetta, she picks the poison.”
“He wants to dress like Dracula, he can be fucking Dracula,” you said to yourself. Then you poked the tip of the bean with your knife. “Aha! Gotcha!”
You wiped the dirt on your blade on your sweater, uncaring, before sliding it back in your boot. Then you grasped the bean by its near-invisible stems and pulled.
You straightened up, wobbling a bit. James had to anchor both of his hands in your waist so you didn’t fall into the freezing lake water, and you felt your heart flop over twice in your chest.
You didn’t address it.
You held the glowing red bean up for all of your friends to see. It looked like a fat globule of blood, and that was nothing on what it did once ingested.
If someone ate bloodbean, it wouldn’t kill them– no, it would just make them drool uncontrollably for twenty-four hours with no cure.
Oh, yeah, and the drool would be crimson red like blood.
“Brilliant,” said James, studying first the bean, then you. Your heart wobbled again for some reason.
“Pads, you’re in charge of distracting the git while I put this in his breakfast tomorrow morning,” you said, reviewing the plan.
“Me? The center of attention?” He feigned surprise.
“Prongs, you’re going to lend me your cloak so that he doesn’t see,” you said. James nodded. “You and Moony should eat breakfast like normal.”
You were resisting the urge to feel embarrassed about ordering them around– they were stronger than you, more assertive than you, better at life than you. You relied on fabricated confidence and a glare.
Still, an anger was simmering inside of you, an irritation that had come to a head when Severus Snape, asshole extraordinaire, had jinxed your cauldron in Potions to spill all over your robes, melting them. He’d only done it because you’d called him a “fanged git” and told him to “fuck away from Lily, you unbearable virgin.”
“He’s going to know it was you, y’know,” said Sirius, grinning.
“Oh, Pads,” you sighed, patting his chest. There was that fabricated confidence again. “What could he possibly do to me?”
Feeling eager for justice, the four of you made your way back to the castle.
At first, the plan was brilliant. You mashed the bean (charmed to look brown with a simple color-changing spell) into Snivellus’ porridge, then got back to your friends’ table and waited.
The results had been almost instantaneous. Snivellus’s entire mouth started leaking red, and at first, everyone at the Slytherin table started shrieking, thinking he was hurt and it was contagious.
But Snivellus figured out pretty quick that you were the culprit.
He’d marched over to you, wand at the ready, leaking red.
He pointed his wand at you with hate, saying, vilely, “You.”
James stepped in between the two of you, his wand also at the ready, looking like Christmas had come early. But you weren’t keen on being protected.
“The power of Christ compels you,” you said snidely to the red-mouthed Snivellus.
“You think this is humorous?” barked Snivellus, red spraying everywhere.
“Pretty, yeah,” you said, fighting to get out from behind all three of your friends, now. They were all trying to block you from the git. “Stop fucking creeping on my friends, Bela Lugosi. Nobody wants you here.”
Snape went to curse you, but of course Professor McGonagall appeared, asking sharply, “Is there an issue here?”
You were now aware that the entire Great Hall was staring at you. Not taking your eyes off of Snivellus, you said, “No, Professor McGonagall. Severus was just showing us his Halloween costume.”
Snivellus glared, but there wasn’t much he could do with McGonagall right there and the men protecting you. He’d shot you the vilest look you’d ever received, then stormed from the Hall, his robes billowing about him like a bat.
That was all fine. But you should have stayed on your guard.
Days passed after the bloodbean incident. Snivellus’ mouth only stayed red for a day, of course, but it had been the gossip of the school for far longer. You felt pretty pleased with yourself– not just because it had gone off perfectly, but because Snape was now too obsessed with hating you that he’d been ignoring Lily. Which had sort of been the point.
It happened, then, as you were leaving Potions, a week after the Dracula incident. Most of the class had left– it was just you, the other Marauders, and Snivellus.
You were ignoring Snape when it happened, packing your books in your bag. He came out of nowhere.
The fucking git slammed something into you, glass shattering, liquid splashing into your clothes. It would have gone perfectly for him, this plan– if you hadn’t fallen over from the force.
See, you’d find out later that Snivellus had crafted a unique bewitching potion to humiliate you in front of the entire school. The idea of the potion was to force you to say every first thought that came into your head– a stronger, more malicious Veritaserum.
It had no known antidote, as it was experimental. Why he’d known you had pathetic secrets hidden inside of you too shameful to let out, you had no idea. Maybe he’d suspected you weren’t as brave as your house said you were. You didn’t know.
The point was, it was supposed to humiliate you. All he had to do was touch your skin to it, and that was that.
Maybe he wanted himself to be the first person you saw when you looked up– so you’d insult him without thinking, share your feelings, a chance to prove you were “bullying” him.
But Snape wasn’t the first person you saw when you looked up.
You accidentally looked up at James.
It was hard to realize, with the strange feelings, urges, bursting inside of you, that James had caught you, holding you inches from the dungeon floor. His glasses were sliding down his nose, and he looked concerned.
“Y/N?” he asked anxiously. You stared at him.
Then it came out of your mouth. “You’re really fucking pretty.”
James blinked.
Looking entirely flabbergasted, James righted you up, then rounded on Snivellus.
“What d’you think you’re doing?” he demanded, brandishing his wand. “You could have fucking hurt her, smashing that vial, you prick–”
Now you looked at Snape. “I doubt he cares,” you said.
Snape looked at you. “Correct, for once. Brilliant attempt to ruin things, but –”
“What did we ruin, Snivellus? What was in the vial?” demanded James, rolling up his sleeves and advancing. You tried to keep it in. You really did.
But the sound came out anyway. A pitiful mewl, just his name: “James.”
James glanced back at you, still confused. Snivellus tried to take this chance to hex his “bully”, but Remus and Sirius, who had been assessing the situation, also whipped out their wands. Sensing he was outcast, Snape stepped backwards.
Remus, understanding that you were under a strange spell, gathered you away from Severus.
James looked back at Snape. “ What did you do to her?” he commanded.
Under threat of James turning Snape’s organs into external features, Snape spittingly explained what the potion had been to the two of you.
It was hard for you to care. You were randomly noticing just how handsome James was, his face beautifully-crafted, his hazel eyes golden lights. You wanted to run your hand through his curls.
“I want–”
Oh, Merlin. You tried so hard to keep the thought inside of yourself. See, you were definitely aware, definitely inside of yourself– it was just that you had to blurt every thought you had. Or every other thought. It really didn’t matter– it was embarrassing.
Still, with your trademark stubbornness, you managed to change the thought from James’ curls to something else.
“I want you to look at me,” you whined, pathetically.
Fuck, that was not better.
That appeared to be the final straw for James. He sent a hex at Snape, and that was that.
You weren’t really aware as your friends went to town on Snape. They were avenging you, but you didn’t really care about that. James did look pretty as he hexed Snape into oblivion, but you wanted him to stop fighting and look at you.
No, no, no, fuckass. Think something else.
“Do you think maybe our eyebrows are caterpillars that crawl around on our face when we’re sleeping at night?”
Sirius took a break from hexing to eye you warily. “ What ?”
You could feel your face heat. You tried very hard not to have any thoughts, any thoughts at all. This was much harder than it sounded.
Once Snape was a pathetic mess, lying on the dungeon floor, James started pulling you away from the scene, both of your friends following.
James was cursing. “Foul prat– who d’you reckon comes up with a plan like that–”
He accidentally caught you staring at him, at his face. Oh no. Oh no. Say something entirely stupid.
“What if we had two sets of eyelids? Like a crocodile?”
All three of your friends looked at you in concern.
Sirius stepped in between you and James, confused at your blathering. “Where’re we taking her? Infirmary?”
You didn’t care where they were taking you. You thought it best, actually, that you were alone. No chance to embarrass yourself when you’re alone.
Remus responded to the question, saying, “It’s too public. He’ll have made it so that it won’t be healed easy. She’ll… not be herself, in front of everyone. Anyone could ask her anything. And she’ll get in trouble for the bloodbean. She’s already got a troubled record.”
“D’you think if you ate bioluminescent algae, your stomach would glow?”
Your friends were at a loss for words.
With the use of several passageways, the two of you were inside the Gryffindor common room while the rest of your class was at classes and lunch. James finally let go of you, and the first thing you did was step back from him and say, “Well, I’m just going to go upstairs and try to cast a Silencing charm on myself–”
“No,” said James.
You were so jarred that you accidentally looked up at him. Think of a random fucking sentence. Do not talk about his eyes. Don’t talk about his–
“D’you know how funny it would be if you didn’t need glasses at all and you were just wearing them to look smart?”
You could see James starting to get frustrated, but he did still say, “Oh no. My terrible secret. Out for the world to see.”
You smiled down at your shoes, adamant about not looking at him.
The men all stared at you; you could feel their gazes. It was Remus, of course, who spoke.
“I don’t think she should be alone. Or in public. We don’t know how long this will last–”
“I want to be alone.”
“– but she’s out of sorts, and we should protect her.”
Both James and Sirius stared at you for several long seconds. Then, Sirius voiced what you, yourself, were thinking.
“What if she… says something to us she wouldn’t want to say?”
“I want to be alone.”
“No,” said James, grabbing your arm again. “You’re going to be with me.”
With no other idea on what to do, the men decided to sequester you. James brought you up to the Head Boy’s room, trying several times to get you to sit on the bed (you were trying to escape) while the other two stood awkwardly in the door.
“James–” you protested.
“Sit,” he ordered.
You sat.
Sirius made a face. “I don’t reckon we should hold her hostage, mate,” he said warily.
“She’s not a hostage,” said James, irritated. You had tried inching your way off the bed, going to bolt for the door. In one swift movement, he caught your waist, holding you in place as easy as breathing.
“Sit, Y/N,” he said again.
Remus changed the subject. “I can try to go through the restricted section to find a possible antidote,” he said. “I don’t think a bezoar would work, since we have them in our kits. He’d want it to be something harder.”
If James wasn’t going to allow you to escape, then you needed a plan. A plan on how not to think. You tried to picture a beach with an aqua-blue ocean and pink sand. You imagined you were walking on the beach, in your favorite bikini–
“I don’t think any of you have seen me in a–”
You cut yourself off at the last minute, shrieking, burying your face in James’ pillow. It smelled like him, damn it.
You needed to get it together. Really, these three men had noticed awkward, unwanted you first year and adopted you into their pack. You hadn’t had a single friend, here or otherwise, before they’d forced you to sit with them at mealtimes. And it was because of them you’d had the courage to bond with Lily, Marlene, Dorcas.
You needed to pay them back by not annoying them to death.
James, ignoring your last comment like the others, hastily made his mess of a bed around you, and when he passed by, you froze up, afraid of what you’d say.
He noticed. You felt your stomach drop, and you wanted to explain yourself, but you kept your mouth shut tight.
None of your friends seemed to know what to do.
“Er, Y/N? How about you head to bed while we sort you out?” asked Sirius.
“Don’t tell her to head to bed,” snapped James automatically at the unintentional innuendo. You didn’t notice this– if you had, you surely would have said something.
You lifted your head from the pillow, looking up at your friends.
Remus, bracing himself for your madness, leaned in slightly. Your jaw was going to crack from clenching. “Y/N, can I ask you a few questions? Is that alright?”
You weren’t sure. You were definitely going to say something idiotic. Still, Remus was trying to help. Slowly, you nodded up and down.
“Alright.” Remus looked like he wished he hadn’t gotten up today. “Alright. So Snape dosed you with a potion. You’re aware of that, yeah?”
Slowly, you nodded again.
“And now you can’t stop verbalizing?”
You had to look away, embarrassed. You nodded once more.
“But you know that we aren’t going to laugh at you, whatever you say?” That was James.
You couldn’t think about him. Thinking about him was worse than the others.
“I really shouldn’t be friends with you all. I don’t know why you even adopted me,” you said.
There was a beat of silence.
Then James moved closer to you. “Y/N, look at me, honey.” You didn’t move. “Please, honey.” His voice was all sugar, and you couldn’t deny him. You looked up at him, tears beading in your eyes. “D’you really believe that?”
Still clenching your jaw, you nodded.
James was visibly upset. “But that’s not–”
“This is a problem for after she doesn’t spill all of her thoughts and earthly secrets,” said Remus.
Sirius pointed at Remus. “That.”
James was still visibly troubled. “We can’t just leave her here. Someone has to stay.”
“I want James.” The words spilled from you. The object of your affection– your best friend– widened his eyes, his face flushing.
He looked like he wanted to protest, but there was nothing left to say. It was decided that James Potter would stay with you. With two anxious nods, your other friends left, and then you two were alone.
James had no idea what to do. The first problem was what you were wearing– your blouse was soaked with the potion, and the white starch was almost entirely clear. He could see your cutesy pink bra through your shirt, and he kept forcing himself to look away. You clearly hadn’t realized yet, or you would be covering yourself.
James rifled through his clothes, tossing you one of his sweaters so that you could change.
“But this is yours–”
“You can wear my clothes, Y/N. I don’t care.”
Oh, Merlin. Who talked like that? He sounded so stupid.
“I can go to the girls’ bathroom to change–”
“No. You’ll just run away, won’t you?”
He glanced over at you. The lace lining on your bra looked so tempting, and he had to shake himself mentally and scream at himself to behave.
“Here. See?” James turned away from you, giving you grace to change.
You did so quickly. He heard the sound of the blouse hitting the floor, and then when you pulled his sweater over your head, you said, “You smell so good.”
Startled, James turned around. Luckily, you were fully dressed, wearing his clothes. Which… became the second problem.
You looked entirely too good with his clothes draping over your form. Your hair was mussed from changing, and you were sniffing the sleeve of his sweater. The sight was so adorable, his heart physically hurt.
It had been James that had decided you would join his group of friends, all those years ago. He remembered that he’d protected you from one of Severus’ harassments and inducted you into the Marauders. He’d been protective of you since.
At first, he had been the only Marauder you’d trusted. You’d been frightened around the other two, frightened with him, even. He’d gotten the read that you’d had a rough home life, which had left you shy and afraid. He’d decided then that he would protect you and heal you until you were almost unrecognizable.
He thought he’d done a pretty decent job– up until this point. You’d grown into a confident woman, your boldness and body filling out. He’d spent many nights in bed tortured because you’d accidentally brushed your breasts against him, or because you’d bent over and he’d seen your panties.
In short, it seemed more and more that he shouldn’t be the one taking care of you. Not when you were complimenting everything about him with those doe eyes.
“James?” you asked, confused.
He was busy tracing his eyes down your form, over all your curves, then back up again.
Your breasts were fuller than he’d thought, visible even in his sweater. Your plush thighs were visible from where your skirt had slightly risen up. It was making it hard for him to breathe. He had the impulse to flip up your skirt, yank down your panties, kiss you until you couldn’t breathe.
But you shouldn’t be doing any of that, you prat, he said to himself angrily. You’re her friend, damn it. Don’t be a pervert.
James instantly backed up out of guilt. Guilt and fear that he would break down and touch you, fear that he wouldn’t be able to resist. Fear that he would take advantage of you and ruin one of his best friendships. Why had the guys left him alone with you? Yes, he'd insisted, but they knew how he’d felt about you since first fucking year. Maybe they thought that would make him stronger.
It didn’t.
“Lay down, honey, alright? Just lay down on the bed for me and let me get you a book to read,” he heard himself say.
“I don’t want to read.”
Fuck, he was getting hard. Hoarsely, he said, “Y/N–”
“I want you to lay down with me.”
To your credit, you did look horrified that you’d said that. You were clearly still awake in there, it was just your thoughts– your thoughts–
No, these couldn’t have been your thoughts. Snivellus must have lied about part of the potion. You didn’t want him. You didn’t want him to look at you. Not like this. Never like this.
“Honey, please,” he tried. He had never really called you honey before– not out loud. But the term of endearment was impossible to stop. He was just so concerned– and–
James was burning so hot that he might have been on fire.
“I’m sorry,” you said, tearing up. “I just– I can’t stop saying things.”
James automatically moved closer to you. He hadn’t seen you cry since first year. “I know, honey. It’s alright. You can say anything you want to me. I won’t be mad.”
You looked up at him with those teary eyes. “It’s just–”
You cut yourself off, shrieking into his pillow again. He supposed that was one way to keep from saying what you didn’t want to say.
He couldn’t help but wonder what you’d been about to say. It’s just, what?
Whatever you’d been about to say, it was none of his business. All of these thoughts were your secrets, your treasures. He shouldn’t be listening at all.
You were trying not to cry still. That was you, stubborn Y/N. He felt a burst of affection.
“When I was seven I ate a candle,” you said, out of nowhere.
James was startled into a laugh. He stopped the instant he remembered his promise not to laugh, but you watched him with a partial grin. It was nice to see you smile, to see you making eye contact with him.
“What kind of candle?” he asked, feeling almost like things were normal, and the two of you were just talking.
Your brows furrowed. “I think it was chai and ginger. It did not taste good.”
“The whole candle?” He wanted to keep you distracted, to keep you talking about inane things so you didn’t say anything you didn’t want to say.
You nodded. He fought back another laugh.
“I thought it would taste like a latte. It came in this cute little cup, and once I’d committed to eating the candle, I ate the candle, because I’m not a pussy.”
That got him. His laugh was loud, and you beamed up at him, laughing a bit yourself.
But the mood changed instantly. You looked at his face, and then you said, with love, “I like it when you laugh.”
James felt like someone had shot sugary-syrup into his veins. He could feel it coursing throughout his entire body.
She’s not in her right mind, he reminded himself.
“I like it when you laugh, too,” he said, in an effort to make you less embarrassed.
You flopped down on his bed.
“You don’t get it! You just don’t get it! You’re– you’re James Potter, you’re the best guy in the whole school, in the world. I owe you everything– I didn’t have friends, or any sense of self, and– and I want you and–”
“Alright, it’s alright,” he said panickedly, hurrying over to you. I want you.
It was ludicrous. It was all the fucking potion, and he’d be stupid to think you were serious.
So why was his heart burning?
“I act so tough because I want you to think I’m– I’m cool–”
“I do think you’re cool,” said James, his voice comforting. He wasn’t lying. But it was hard to focus on comforting you when you were laying on his bed, your skirt hiked up even higher. He could almost see right up it, if he tried.
But he didn’t try.
“Just lay there for me, honey.”
You obeyed.
James stalked over to his bookshelf, desperate to find some sort of Herbology book for you to read. Once he finally found one, he turned around–
But he saw you were fast asleep, his too-long sleeves pulled up over your hands, clutched to your chest.
With a soft smile, James pulled the covers over you and turned off his light.
You awoke in the middle of the night. It jarred him awake from where he’d been sleeping on the floor.
“Jamie?” you asked desperately, disoriented.
“Ah, fuck,” he groaned, his spine all messed up from the floor. “M alright. I’m alright.”
The farther he got from the land of dreams, the more he realized that you’d called him Jamie. His stomach clenched.
Ignoring how that one word affected him, James leaned over you, checking your forehead to see if you had a fever. You were all sleep-mussed, looking adorable with your sleepy eyes.
You caught your breath as you looked at him. “You slept on the floor?”
You were concerned about him, even though you were the one poisoned?
“Well, I wasn’t going to– I couldn’t just–” James stopped his stammering. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
You tried to clench your jaw to keep from speaking. It didn’t work, and the words came out in a rush.
“I had a dream that we–”
You lifted your arm and bit into it to keep from finishing the sentence. More concerned for your poor arm than whatever it was you didn’t want to say, James gently pulled your arm away from your mouth. He then took your hand in his.
He knew he shouldn’t. He knew it was wrong.
“You had a dream that we, what?” He knelt by the bed, and you were sitting. His face was so close to yours.
You were ashamed, miserable. “Nothing.”
He knew this entire experience must be humiliating for you. That was the whole reason they’d sequestered you here. You were known for being tough, bold. You didn’t share your thoughts or get into feelings, not at all.
James’ thumb brushed against the back of your hand. “Y/N–”
There was the sound of people walking up the staircase to his room. James shouted several foul expletives in his mind, cursing everything from stairs to his room to the existence of anyone other than you and him.
Sirius and Remus entered the room, looking from you to James then back again. After James turned on the lights, it was clear that he had slept on the floor from his stupid little blanket and tiny pillow.
Remus broke the silence. “He wasn’t lying,” he said, averting his eyes from your mussed up state. James supposed, from certain angles, you looked sex- mussed. He hoped his friends didn’t think he’d–
“There’s no antidote. We just have to let it run its course.” That was Sirius.
Run its course? James couldn’t keep you in here– not when you were miserable and struggling and entirely too beautiful to be sitting his bed–
“There has to be a way,” he said desperately.
“I’m telling you, mate, we found the potion in Moste Potente Potions, and there’s nothing,” said Sirius.
James felt a dash of anger. “Well, one of you needs to take care of her! Because I can’t just–”
“I’m really sorry.”
All three men looked over at you. You cast your eyes down. You were distressed, full of shame.
James gravitated back over to you. “You don’t have to be–”
“Please don’t coddle me. You don’t need to. I’m just sorry.”
He had no idea what to do.
“There’s more,” said Remus, changing the subject once more. “It isn’t confirmed– it was written in the margins– but some people think that the curse of the potion comes from shame. As in, it’s stronger in people who are ashamed of their thoughts, their feelings.”
James bit the inside of his cheek. You were ashamed? About what?
“How do we fix it?” he asked.
Remus hesitated. “It just said that disproving that shame lessens the effects of the potion.”
James’ gaze shot back to you as you sat, all tousled, on his bed. You wouldn’t look at any of them.
“But how do you–”
“We don’t know, mate,” said Sirius.
James’ eyes were trained on you. He felt– he felt something horrible, some reckoning brewing in gut.
How could they not know? How could he have let this sort of thing happen to you? You were the best person he’d ever met, funny and stubborn and brave, but also soft and sensitive. Disproving the shame–
What did that mean?
James glanced over at his friends, and he saw they looked exhausted. They’d been up all night researching for you– because you were their friend, too.
You seemed to be thinking the same thing. “Go to bed,” you said.
Sirius cracked a smile at you being bossy, like normal. “You’re not my mother, Y/L/N.”
“Like I’d want to be your mother, dandy boy,” you said.
James managed a smile, too.
After checking in that the two of you would be alright, Remus and Sirius left the room, and he was alone with you again.
The intense sexual tension from earlier (that he was sure only he felt) returned threefold. You looked warm, sweltering in his sweater, and he found he couldn’t bear to see you struggle.
Yeah, that was why.
“You can take it off, Y/N,” he said.
Who. Talks. Like. That. You. Fucking. Overgrown. Deer.
You were embarrassed, but you did seem to be hot. “Don’t look,” you said, shy.
His mouth dried up instantly, but he did look away. After a second, he heard you set his sweater on his nightstand, and then you snuggled under his blankets.
“You can look,” you said softly.
James looked back to his bed, trying to ward off the hardening of his dick. He could only see the sweet little pink straps to your frilly bra. The rest of you was covered by his blanket.
His throat was dry, now, too.
Your eyes met his. Fuck, he could just cover your body with his, sate his thirst between your legs, coat his tongue with you. Would you let him?
Have some self-control.
He went to turn the light out and lay back down on his dumb cot, but you said, “Don’t.”
He glanced back at you warily. “You want the light on?”
The words came out without your permission. Even he could see that:
“I want you to come to bed with me.”
James swallowed. A second passed by. Two. Three. He was so hard that it hurt. How could you have not noticed?
“I don’t think that’s the best idea, honey,” he said finally, his voice strained. What he really wanted was to rip off that cute little bra and cover you in bites and kisses and love bruises. He could rip your panties right off your body and sink inside you, and you would cry out, and you would want him just as much as he wanted you–
You looked at him, your chest rising and falling quickly. “But I want you. Always have.”
You looked away instantly, horrified that you’d said that. James was stunned for a second.
But I want you. Always have.
It couldn’t be real. It couldn’t.
Still, he couldn’t stop himself from kneeling by the bed again, taking your chin into his fingers and gently tilting your face to him again.
You were crying. “I didn’t want to say that.”
Not in control of his body, James pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Honey, it’s alright. I promise you it’s alright.”
“No, it’s not,” you cried harder. “I’m sorry– I’m so sorry–”
He didn’t know what else to do. He kissed you, silencing you instantly. In one swift moment, his lips were crashing into yours, and he was moving and pinning you down on his bed.
His hands were suddenly all over you, ravishing you. He slid his hand under the covers and cupped you through your bra, kneading it in a way that made you mewl.
“Jamie!”
He loved that you called him that. You hadn’t called him that since you’d both been children.
James kissed you hard enough to bruise your lips. As you gasped, wanton, his tongue touched yours as he brushed his thumb under your bra, against your hard nipple.
“Don’t be sorry, honey,” he murmured against your lips. “Just let me fix it.”
He had no idea why he was doing what he was doing. Actually– no. He knew why: he loved you. He’d always loved you. He’d taken one look at you on the Hogwarts Express and knew.
But he had to make sure you wanted him touching you– that was all he could think. He took in you whimpering beneath him, and he immediately stopped. But you whined pathetically the second he pulled back, and he realized you liked it.
Then, he couldn’t be stopped.
He kissed you violently again, his tongue against yours. Your hands danced shyly down his chest, sliding up under his shirt. He felt you trace the lines of his abdomen, and you made a cute noise that told him you approved.
You didn’t necessarily know what you were doing when it came to kissing– James was aware that you’d never dated anybody, having partly been the reason for that.
(Hey. What was “accidentally” setting a bloke on fire when he was protecting someone like you?)
James found it entirely enticing, tantalizing to be the one to teach you. He wanted you molded to his perfect match, and he certainly didn’t want some random git to be the one to teach you these things.
Your hands slid down to James’ trousers, and he pulled back, snapping back to reality. He said against your mouth, “Not now, honey.”
You threw your head back and whined. “ I need you.”
He wanted to fuck you more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life. But he couldn’t just– it was bad enough that he’d kissed you–
“Jamie, please,” you whimpered.
He should just take your wand and lock you in here. He should cast a sleeping spell on you to sedate you. He should do anything but ask, “What d’you want me to do to you, princess?”
You played with the frilly lace on your pink bra. “I want you to fuck me, Jamie. Please.”
James’ breathing caught. The potion. The potion.
James leaned into you. “How d’you want me to fuck you, Y/N?”
You were mesmerized by how close he was, staring into his eyes. “Want you to fuck me like– like you love me, Jamie. I’ll do anything.”
His dick was so hard, he was just about ready to come in his trousers like a fucking third year.
You kept talking, looking sad, looking ashamed. “I’ve never– I’ve never–” You swallowed. “But if it’s you–”
He needed to stop. He needed to bow out of this before he did something that would hurt you, that you’d regret, that you’d hate him for.
He used all of his willpower to pull away from you. “Not now, honey.”
You reached for him, tears in your eyes. “But–”
He smoothed your hair back from your face. “Honey, if you–” His voice caught. “If you want to after you’re alright… I’ll…”
He couldn’t finish the sentence, but the meaning was clear.
“I should leave.” He really could sedate you, then lock you inside. But he flashed back to the ‘hostage’ conversation. He didn’t want you to feel like his hostage.
“Don’t leave. I’ll be good, Jamie, please?”
He was going to burst. “You’re always good, Y/N.” He didn’t even know what he was saying, not really. He just knew he couldn’t disrespect you, not any more than he already had, with the kiss.
James shut the light with a wave of his wand, then went to lay down on the floor again.
“No. Come up here with me,” you said.
“Y/N–”
“I won’t do anything. You’re going to hurt yourself.”
He had already hurt himself. And if you– if you promised to be good, what harm could it really do?
Don’t fall for it. She’s clearly been drugged with some sort of lust potion as well. She’s poisoned, and you can’t just–
James walked around the bed, taking off his glasses and setting them down. Then, almost shaking, he slid into the bed with you.
I’m in bed with her. I’m in bed with Y/N.
He had no idea what he felt, other than an almost manic happiness. He was worried for you, definitely, and he wanted to touch you more than anything.
A few minutes passed before you did the inevitable– you snuggled up to him.
“I’m–”
“Don’t say you’re sorry, princess.” He stroked up and down your spine. “It’s alright. Just go to sleep, honey.”
You snuggled into him closer. You could definitely feel how hard he was, but you didn’t make a move about it, which he appreciated, because he certainly wouldn’t be able to deny you if you had.
Slowly, slowly, the two of you fell asleep.
You woke up on the second day of your poisoning, still very much under the spell but also very…
Agitated.
You’d kissed James. You’d kissed James. It had been the best moment of your entire life.
You woke up with him clutching you to his chest like the two of you were in love. You hadn’t wanted to wake up, so you just snuggled him and enjoyed the moment until he woke with a start some time later.
James did wake up, though, and the second he did you saw guilt on his beautiful face. You went to say something, but he slid out of bed, gathering robes for you and himself. He didn’t say anything, but the remorse was radiating from him like he was poison.
You knew you’d done something terrible. You couldn’t believe the space that the honesty had gotten you into, where you’d been writhing on his bed so boldly and calling him ‘Jamie.’ What was fucking wrong with you?
“J-James–”
Someone banged on the door. James called, “In a minute!”, then dressed himself quickly. When he saw that you weren’t dressing yourself, he walked over and started dressing you himself like you were a doll. You felt your cheeks heat impossibly hot as he put his sweater back on you and adjusted your skirt.
Then he walked over and opened the door to Remus and Sirius.
You were both clothed, but you feared it was clear what had happened. You felt horrible. You had never wanted to be the kind of girl who threw herself at men who didn’t want her. That was why you’d never acted on your feelings for James for so long.
You sat on the bed as the door closed and Sirius said, “Er…?”
James was flushed. “Nothing happened,” he said sharply.
Sirius studied the both of you. “Didn’t think anything had.” He paused. “I do, now.”
Remus stopped James from murdering Sirius. “Who’s going to watch her today?”
James’ brow furrowed. “Of course I can watch–”
“You have detention, mate,” said Sirius.
“I could give a fuck about detention–”
“If you don’t go, someone might come here to demand why,” said Remus. “Not to mention you’ll get other detentions.” James opened his mouth to say he could give a fuck about that, too, so Remus added, “That will keep you from her.”
James was distraught. All you could think about was how pretty he was and how guilty you felt as he said, “But I can’t–” He swallowed, then looked between his two friends. “Remus, you–”
“I can’t,” said Remus quietly.
“Why–”
“It’s the full moon,” realized Sirius.
All four of you stared at each other.
“So I’ll be… with Sirius?” your small voice asked.
“No,” said James immediately, glaring at his friend. “No. I’ll sedate you– you’re not– you’re not–”
“Oi. I’m not going to touch her,” said Sirius, offended.
“No one’s going to take advantage of her,” said Remus calmly.
You found a thought, a comment about how you wanted James to ‘take advantage’ of you, and you caught that shit at the very last second, blurting out, “Did you know there’s a subset of the Muggle disorder of manic-depression known as hypergraphia? It means you write constantly.”
No one knew how to respond to that useless fact, which was fair, given that you’d just summoned it to stop from embarrassing yourself further.
James was clearly fighting not to say a bunch of rude things to Sirius. “He’s not touching her,” he said.
“What did I just say, mate?” demanded Sirius. “Seriously, I’m not going to hurt her.”
The air was tense.
“Prongs, you have to go. So do I,” said Remus. “She’ll be fine with Pads.”
James looked like he wanted to bitterly argue, but the threat of you being left alone to wander was greater than the threat of Sirius. He said, roughly, “Just… Yeah. Fine.”
Then he and Remus left the room, and you were alone with Sirius.
The two of you stared at each other for an awkward moment. “I know you’re not going to touch me, Pads. Calm down.”
Relief appeared on Sirius’ face as he exhaled, pulling out James’ desk chair and sitting on it backwards. “Tell that to Prongs.”
“He doesn’t really think that. He just thinks he has a claim on me now, after we–”
You tried to force a sneeze to keep from finishing the sentence, but it didn’t matter. Sirius wasn’t stupid; he knew what you meant.
Surprisingly, the Black heir didn’t poke fun at you. “You really like him, don’t you?”
You looked down at your hands. “I want him to have a claim on me.”
Sirius kept studying you. Then he ran a hand over his handsome face and pulled out a carton of cigarettes. He offered one to you, and you shook your head. He lit it, and you could almost see the stress melt away as he smoked. Not that you approved.
“The Smoking Black Labrador. Yeah, that’s scary,” you’d said to him once.
He was affronted. “I am not a black labrador, Y/L/N!”
“This is so stupid,” you said presently. “The whole thing. What did Snape think was going to happen? I’d parade about the castle telling people facts about cnidarians?”
Sirius stopped smoking. “What the fuck is a cnidarian?”
You went into a tangent about the phylum of cnidaria, which included jellyfish and coral. Sirius stared at you aghast. He moved his chair closer to you, interested, and said, “Can I ask you a question? If it makes you feel horrible, you can scream into the pillow. You don’t have to answer.”
You nodded.
“Is that really what you’re thinking about all of the time?” he asked.
You nodded again, cheeks heating. “Partly. I’m summoning random facts more than usual on purpose, but I do think about it sometimes. I think it’s interesting.”
He hurried to make you feel like he didn't think you were crazy. “So do I.” He paused, taking a drag of his cigarette. “Tell me more about the cnidarions.”
“Cnidarians.”
“That,” he said, pointing.
The two of you dissolved into excitable conversation, you telling him about Muggle animals and things, and him telling you things from his pureblood world that you still hadn’t heard of, even being a seventh year.
Time passed so quickly that when someone knocked on the door, both of you looked up in confusion.
James entered the room, scowling. Instantly, he had a problem with the cigarette smoke. “You couldn’t have waited–”
“I don’t mind it,” you said. “It makes me feel like I’m in The Great Gatsby.”
“The what?” both men asked at the same time.
You wove it away. “Was detention okay?”
Your eyes, trailing over his form, were asking for danger. You tried not to land too hard on any certain thoughts, but there was one that was hard to dispel.
Don’t say it. Not in front of Sirius.
You shut your mouth and picked another useless fact, this time reciting a passage from The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet. The whole time, all you could think was, I want you, please. Please.
“Well, clearly, I did a right job watching her. I don’t mean to intrude on your time, so–”
“Wait, Pads,” said James. The annoyance from the smoke was gone, and he said, “I’m– sorry. I didn’t mean to say you’d hurt her. I just–”
Sirius clapped him on the back. “I get it, mate. Don’t worry about it.”
With a wink at you behind James’ back, Sirius left to go take care of Remus during the full moon. And you were alone with James.
You were instantly nervous. He did you a favor by speaking first, but it wasn’t what you wanted to hear.
“I’m sorry, Y/N. I shouldn’t have– well, I shouldn’t have touched you like th–”
“I wanted you to.”
You didn’t even know if that was the potion, or you.
You saw James’ cheeks flush. “Either way, I shouldn’t have,” he said firmly. “You’re not–”
“It wasn’t a lust potion, you know,” you said, a little annoyed. “Don’t you think that if it was, I’d have fucked the shit out of Sirius–”
“Don’t,” warned James.
But you wanted to push his buttons. You needed to. “I mean, I could have let him eat me out–”
James snapped. He closed the distance between you two, grabbing your chin in his hands. He was breathing hard. You were getting to him, you took note.
Good.
“’M really not a jealous person,” he said, his eyes searching your face. It was almost like he was begging, begging for that to be true.
Wanting to be the one in control, you pulled back from him, leaning against his headboard and curling your knees to your chest. You saw James’ eyes trail down, focusing on the expanse of skin revealed by your skirt. He could probably see up it, but you didn’t care.
“I don’t think Snape thought it through,” you said finally, holding eye contact with him. “Yeah, I’m a little more repressed than everybody thinks, but with who? Not him.”
James’ jaw clenched.
“I’m repressed about you,” you said.
He looked away, pained. “Y/N, please. Don’t.”
“Remus said disproving the shame might cure the potion early,” you said quietly. “Don’t you think–”
“No.” He shook his head, loosening his tie in a way that made your core heat. Something you said hit him, and he looked at you. “Why would you feel repressed about me? Shame about me?”
“You don’t understand,” you said quietly. “You’d never understand it.”
James moved closer to you, now bringing his sweater over his head.His hair was ruffled by that, but you didn’t look. “Explain it to me.”
You stared at your knees. “I don’t belong with you three.” You’d been holding that in for seven years. “I never have. You know that. Everyone knows that. I just adopted some sort of persona–”
“Nobody knows that, because it’s not true,” said James, sitting on the edge of the bed, near you. You were startled into looking up at him. His eyes were kind, but also pained. “And I don’t think it’s a persona. I think you’re strong and confident, but you also have insecurities. Y/N. Everyone has that, honey. It doesn’t make you a monster.”
You felt tears start to brim in your fucking eyes, again.
Thoughts were coming up, thoughts you couldn’t repress. “But it’s you. And I’m me.”
James placed his hand atop your head, then smoothed your hair down lovingly. “It’s me and it’s you.”
You choked back a sob. “It doesn’t make sense.”
James shook his head, withdrawing his hand. “I think it does. And when it comes to you– you wanting me, don’t you think your opinion and my opinion are the only ones that matter?”
You didn’t know what to say.
James’ eyes were soft. “Lay down, Y/N.”
You obeyed.
As you sank beneath James’ covers, you watched him unbutton his shirt, revealing his chest. You inhaled sharply, but you tried not to focus too hard on it, lest the poison rear its head.
James unbuckled his belt, and you felt your entire body clench. He discarded that, then his pants. He stood in his boxers, then he sank into bed with you. This time, he was the one to pull you to him, not the other way around.
You made a noise of surprise. But you pressed your face against his chest, comforted by the familiar smell of his cologne. You knew this wasn’t sexual. You felt calmer in his arms than you’d ever felt in your life.
You’d thought it would be hard, but lulled by the thrum of his heartbeat, you fell asleep quickly.
James woke up to the realization that he was impossibly hard.
You had taken off his sweater again, during the night– but that wasn’t what got him. Uncomfortable, you’d finally taken your little bra off, and your breasts were pressed against him. Your skirt was gone, too, and you were just in your little panties.
He was going to have an embolism.
You made a noise as you moved against him. You seemed to realize he was awake, and dopily, you looked up at him. “James?”
He should tell you to go back to sleep. He should have gotten on the floor, but he was hard, so hard, and you were so pretty, and he loved you so much. It was impossible.
Want you to fuck me like– like you love me, Jamie. I’ll do anything.
Did you really think he didn’t love you? How could you not have known that?
He was at war with himself, but the war ended– swiftly, as he felt you sifting your thighs together for relief.
No. There was no way you were doing that, in his bed, with him right there.
Roughly, James rolled over you, bringing your hips together as he pinned your arms down. You gasped.
“Take off your panties,” he said quietly.
You were shy in the dimly-lit room. But you wiggled out of your panties, and he found he couldn’t look away from your core. The insides of your thighs were slick, and all he could think was that maybe Snape wasn’t so bad if he was the reason James got to see this.
Your wetness spilled out onto his bed, and you squirmed. He almost couldn’t believe that he was seeing what he was seeing. He had loved you for so long that it didn’t feel real.
But as your one cutely manicured hand slid down your belly to play with your pussy, James snapped.
He moved, grabbing your hips so that they were positioned right on the bed. Then he spread your legs with his hands, pressing a kiss on your inner thigh.
“Does it hurt?” he cooed, stroking your thighs. “Does it ache?”
You nodded, breathless, your hands now gripping the sheets of his bed. James pressed a kiss closer to your core.
“You want me to make it better, honey?”
“Oh, please, Jamie, please,” you begged.
“Such a good girl, telling me where it hurts, huh?” James finally pressed a kiss on your pussy, and you cried out, yelling. He should have, but he didn’t mind all the Gryffindors knowing how good he made you feel. He didn’t try to silence you.
Your little hips grinded against his face, and he almost came in his pants. He anchored you to the bed again, saying, “You have to be good for me, alright?”
“Yes, yes!”
Satisfied with that answer, James started to lick up the wetness that was gathering in your pussy.
“I’m going to make you feel so good, princess,” he promised before swirling his tongue around your clit. You cried out again. “Such a good girl deserves to be treated like a good girl.”
James went to work on you. He lapped at you, his nose brushing your clit, for several moments. You spasmed beneath him, but his hands and strong arms forced your legs to stay open.
You made the prettiest noises. You cooed his name over and over again, louder and louder, and he felt like a god. Like your god.
“... love you love you love you, Jamie…”
It couldn’t have been real, but it made him harder just the same. James ate you out, sucking on you, swirling your clit with his tongue. He didn’t know how long this went on, just that he knew your climax was building.
He had to hold you down to the mattress as you came, crying out his name so loud he felt it in his bones. You spasmed, twitching on his bed, sobbing as you rode out your high. He kept licking you until he was satisfied, then he pulled back to see you gasping for air.
He couldn’t help but smile down at you, his hand automatically going to stroke himself through his boxers. “C’mere, princess,” he said, and you, obedient as ever, sat up, your naked legs soaked with come.
James grabbed you, bringing your mouth to his again. He felt your hesitant, inexperienced hands going to his boxers. He let you tug at him, then he stepped back to remove his clothes.
Your eyes were wide as you looked at him naked.
“So pretty,” you whined, staring at the angry red tip of his dick, the bead of precum at the tip. “I want it.”
James fought back an adoring, disbelieving laugh. He reached down to ruffle your already ruffled hair.
“Lay back, princess,” he said.
Instantly you obeyed. You even shyly spread your legs a bit, which he thought was adorable.
He had certainly dreamed of a thousand positions to do with you, jacking off alone after the tiniest physical contact, but he thought it would be best for you if he just did it simple. He didn’t want to hurt you, and he wasn’t sure you’d actually tell him if you were uncomfortable. Maybe with the truth potion you would, but clearly, you masked a lot of things when it came to him.
James fell over you, his legs between yours, his arms towering over you. The tip of his dick brushed against your folds, and you both groaned.
Your eyes met. There was a moment where he asked himself if he was really doing this, if he could really do this to you, but as he looked into your eyes, he saw nothing but adoration, supplication.
“Just relax for me, honey,” he said, his voice sugared. “I’ll make you feel good, alright? Want you to feel so good for me.”
You clutched at his arms, your breasts looking full and delicious. “Okay, Jamie.”
Then he started to sink into you. You cried out desperately, your fingernails sinking into his skin. You were soaking wet, and your pussy clearly wanted him, but it was still your first time. He had to be gentle.
“Just relax your hips, alright? ’M not going to hurt you, princess. I would never hurt you,” said James.
“Love you,” you mumbled stubbornly, tears in your eyes. He could feel your body relax, feel you trust him, and he slid in several more inches.
Then you did something that surprised him. You hooked your legs around his back, bringing his dick all the way into you.
James let out a tortured groan, his head falling. You wasted no time in leaning up to press kisses all over his face.
“Fuck me, Jamie, I need you,” you begged.
And who was he to deny your wishes?
Once he was sure that you weren’t in pain, James began fucking you with a brutal pace. He knew he wouldn’t last too long– not when the girl he loved was offering him her virginity and begging on his bed. He had dreamed of this moment for seven years.
You made desperate mewling noises as he fucked you, your face all fucked out. Your lips were plump from kisses, and your hair was in disarray. He wanted to paint your portrait, to paint your sexed face for him and only him to see it.
James fucked you even harder, needing you to understand. He loved you, he’d always fucking loved you. Your nails drew blood on his arms, but he didn’t care. He wanted to be marked by you.
You drew him further into your warmth, and he was gone. He came directly into you without thinking once about practicing safety. He groaned as he came, then reached down to rub at your swollen clit. He fucked the come deeper and deeper into you before pulling out and making his home again between your legs.
James coated his fingers in his come and then rubbed at your sweet little clit. Your legs spasmed, and you cried out his name as you came violently.
There was a moment of stillness. Then, James moved up your body to press a kiss on your forehead. You didn’t seem capable of coherent thought. A little bit of your virginal blood stained his sheets, which he considered an honor.
James set to work cleaning you up, summoning a soft towel to wipe the come and blood off of your legs. He swiped gently at your pussy, knowing he’d have to get you a contraceptive potion later, even if he found he didn’t want to.
He didn’t want to overwhelm you, but this just wasn’t enough for him. James felt his dick start to harden again just at the thought of fucking you.
He leaned down to caress your breasts. “Shit, Y/N,” he praised. “So pretty, honey. You had this under your sweaters the entire time?”
Breathless, you nodded.
“Shit.” It was getting hard to breathe. He knew he should leave– he’d done enough.
James sat back by the smallest bit and said, “Touch yourself for me, honey.”
He watched carefully as his words washed over you. You inhaled, and your expression was heady. You still hesitated, shy, and he couldn’t help but grab your bare leg and pull you to him. Then he positioned you like a doll, your legs spread so that he could see your pretty pussy. “Pretty girl.”
Shy, you reached down to rub at your adorable little clit. It was all puffy.
The second you made contact, your head rolled back and you moaned.
“Please,” you begged to the ceiling, rubbing little circles. “Need you. Need you. Want you so bad, Jamie. Please .”
You stopped your rubbing to look at him, tears in your eyes.
“You’re a good girl, Y/N,” he praised, needing to make sure you understood that. You were beautiful, a goddess, and he was honored to be able to touch you.
You rubbed faster. “Jamie, please. Please touch me, I need you.”
And all of his self control broke.
“Come here, honey, please,” he said, his voice honeyed.
You hurried to obey. Your wetness soaked the sheets, and your thighs glistened. You tried to sit next to him, but with a loving hand, he patted his thigh.
“Sit for me, honey,” he ordered.
You, quivering, obeyed.
You brought your wet pussy down onto his thigh; he could feel how soaked you were so clearly. At the contact, you whimpered.
James leaned forward and pressed a kiss on your lips. He meant it to just be a quick comfort, but it turned into something more.
He kissed you fiercely, grabbing you. His hands anchored in your waist, forcing you to stay with him, not that you were trying to leave. His tongue touched yours, and he conquered your mouth, fucking you with his tongue. You whimpered, and he smoothed your sides.
Then he pulled back. You looked embarrassed.
“Get yourself off, for me, princess,” he said breathily.
You looked even more embarrassed as what he said processed, but you did start rocking on his thigh. Quickly, you realized that this felt amazing, and you started rocking harder and harder.
He wished that he could always be here, with the girl he loved getting herself off on his thigh. But all good things must come to an end.
After only a few moments, he felt you start to come– but in an instant, he lifted you off of his thigh.
You cried out.
“I want you to come inside you, again, honey, can you wait for me?” asked James, pressing kisses on your cheeks. He laid you down on the bed and leaned over you. “Come here.”
He fell over you, his mouth attaching to your nipple, his other hand sensually kneading. Your nipples were painfully hard, another testament to how turned on you were. He took that as an honor, too. He circled your nipple with his tongue before sucking, and you mewled beneath him.
James switched between breasts, lovingly. He didn’t care about how long it took to fuck you– he would be doing it correctly, taking his time. He didn’t care if his friends showed up mid-fuck. All that mattered was you, your body, this sweet little soul that he apparently held in the palm of his hands.
As he played with your breasts, James realized that you were grinding your hips against his, trying to get him inside of you.
Never one to deny you, James reached down and positioned his dick at your core. Pressing another kiss to your neck, he sank inside of you.
You whined impossibly loud. “Need you need you need you–”
“I know you do, princess. I’ve got you. Not going to let you be sad anymore, alright?” He pressed a kiss to your lips again. He tasted the salt of tears on your lips.
James fucked you strongly but gently. He was careful with your precious body, but he fucked you sensually, hitting a place deep inside of you with every stroke.
Your body lifted off the mattress as he fucked you, drunk with pleasure. He shoved you back down gently and changed his angle, fucking you faster. Your pussy was so warm, so tight– it was so inviting that he couldn’t believe he hadn’t been having it all this time.
James hit that spot inside of you particularly deep, and then you were spasming around him, your pussy clenching. He managed not to come only by saying, “Good girl.”
You were still shaking from your high. “Jamie– Jamie, please–”
James took a hold your waist, fucking you so deep that you started babbling praises.
“So good– so pretty, so big inside me– love you love you–” You clenched around him again. “ Want you–”
James came inside you. It was a big load, spilling out of your tiny little pussy immediately. He fucked you over and over, still in the sex haze, still needing to claim you– you belonged to him, not Snape, not anyone else.
Then James set to work cleaning your body. You were dazed, all fucked-out. He should have felt bad, but all he felt was pride.
You were still naked when the knock on the door came.
“In a minute!” he called, heart racing.
“Now, mate,” said Sirius.
James helped a dazed you get dressed again, resisting the urge to press kisses all over your body. Finally, he pressed one last kiss to your forehead, got dressed himself, then he let your friends in.
Both men’s eyes immediately went to you, to your messy hair and unbuttoned sweater and general disarray. You wanted to die from mortification.
“We, er…” James started.
“I owe you five Galleons,” sighed Remus to Sirius.
“Hey!” you protested, although you couldn’t feign offense because you started to laugh.
“We were going to make it ten, but we figured that was disrespectful,” grinned Sirius.
“Right. That’s disrespectful,” James scoffed, but he laughed, too.
Remus zeroed in on you. “How’re you feeling, Y/N?”
You felt your face heat.
“Other than that,” grinned Sirius.
You flipped him off.
Focusing back on the question at hand, you tested it. You let your mind wander the way it always did– and you had a lot of thoughts, like:
I wish a frog would be my friend.
Do leprechauns stop existing when St. Patrick’s Day is over? Like, where do they go?
I don’t think I packed my other bra.
But none of those thoughts came out of your head. You smiled wide, then stood up and did a little dance.
“Hell yeah! Privacy! Dignity! Not annoying my friends!”
Laughing, James caught your arm, pulling you softly to him. He cradled you in his arms, rocking you back and forth as you celebrated.
Remus and Sirius, seeing that you were alright, filed out of the room, leaving you dancing in place with James, feeling very much at home for the first time in a long time.
Potions class the next day was a riot. At least, to you.
You followed Snape around shouting facts about snails and the aurora borealis. You started to recite passages you’d memorized from Dracula just to be an even bigger dick.
“Is this what you wanted?” you mocked. “Did you know that, like the Earth, the moon has ‘moonquakes’, just less common than the ones on Earth–”
“For the love of– stop,” snapped the git.
You grinned, meeting James’ eye. He looked at you with pride and amusement. Slughorn, at the front, did nothing.
“The brain needs ten watts of energy to think,” you announced.
Snape glared at you.
“Yours, though? Probably in the hundreds.”
James grinned.