Thursdays Of Dark Grey Skies; H.p.

thursdays of dark grey skies; h.p.

pairing: harry james potter x ravenclaw!fem!reader

synopse: who would have thought that one study thursday of dark grey skies could change so much?

warnings: none, just fluff

word count: 5.8k words

a/n: i’m so soft, i genuinely loved writing this. enjoy!

The sky was grey.

And it wasn't your typical is-raining-soon-light-gray type of colour, it was a dark shade of grey that stained the sky. There was no rain, there was no wind, it was just- dark. Like the night was trying to break out sooner than planned, fighting the light out of the day. For an early october thursday afternoon, the grayish weather shouldn't feel this uncommon. This captivating. But it just gave (ironically) such light to everything within the dark air reach. It was strangely so beautiful. Harry was at the library with practically everyone he knows when he looked outside of one of the windows. And when he says 'practically everyone he knows' he really means the whole castle was in there. Thursdays afternoons are homework and study afternoons. You catch up with any subject you could be behind, you finish all the work that was due friday (which happened more often than not) and your weekend would be mostly free. It was the most practical plan for the academic life of most students, as Hermoine had once said. So, the Hogwarts library was the place for the fourth day of the week. The environment created there was, to put it simply, those that made you work harder. Everyone shared the same goal; all the students from all years, all the students from all houses. Almost every table was occupied, and some even had to be conjured in the middle and left side of the room, the places that had more students. Red, yellow, green and blue were mixed around and a friendly and calm atmosphere flew above them. Despite being packed, the noise wasn't too loud. Quiet chatter and laughs could be heard, but nothing too extreme. Madame Prince had long ago quitted shushing students everytime one made any type of sound. It just felt right to be in there. Even more so when the big windows that contorned one of the sides of the enormous room showed the magical view of the dark grey sky. And because the light outside was mostly dim, candles flew all over the room to give enough light to work with. And as Harry looked around he felt content. He was seated in one of the newly conjured tables, a little to the right from the middle, so he had a pretty good view of the room in general. Ron was now discreetly discussing with a Hufflepuff named Ernie MacMillan and Seamus about the excessive amount of work Snape gives them, their potions assignment long forgotten. Fred, George and several of their other friends sat in another table close by, trying to finish their transfiguration project without the twins and Lee destroying anything. Luna was drawing, humming quietly, with Ginny reading just beside her, and Hermoine was helping Dean on the essay of History of Magic along with Daphne Greengrass from Slytherin. Harry had already finished all of his homework for this week (a first in his whole life). He had his arms crossed and leaned back on his chair, now observing the intriguing dark sky. The lazy light coming from the candles complemented beautifully the colour of the clouds. Harry would laugh and talk quietly every now and then with those around him, now being completely relaxed with the new work-free feeling that would linger for a few days. He was just back to looking at the window again when something caught his eye. In the very far corner of the library, on the right side of the room, was someone writing calmly in a piece of parchment with some books laying around. And after a few seconds, Harry recognised the person; it was you. You hadn't talked much in your past school years. Truth to be told, it wasn’t that common for Gryffindor's and Ravenclaw's to have classes together, so it all depended on your social luck to befriend one another. But Harry did know who you were. You were in the same year as him, obviously sorted into Ravenclaw, and basically the most beautiful girl Harry has ever seen. Your hair seemed slightly darker because of the light, but your eyes were shining like the little fire of the candles floating around was being reflected within them, and your cute nose was scrunched up ever the slightest in concentration. He then noticed that your legs were crossed beneath you and your feet would sometimes wigle. Not wanting to seem like a creep, Harry teared his eyes from the adorable girl, looking down at his table with a small grin plastered on his features. "She is the cutest, isn't she? " Hermoine said, nudging Harry with a knowing smirk on her face. "What? " Harry snapped his head at his best friend's direction (almost breaking his neck I'm the process), eyes widening. "Y/N. I study with her sometimes. Love her, " now she was just shamelessly messing with him. "Who does Hermoine love? " questioned Ron from the other side of the table, his eyebrows raised as he looked around. "Ron no-" "Y/N. Harry was staring at her. Someone has a crush, " Dean responded with a sing-like voice and a huge grin. The mouth of the boy in question was hanging open by now. "Harry has a crush on who?! " Fred Weasley exclaimed a little too loudly, attracting the attention of almost everyone at their tables. "Shush! " hissed Madame Prince from afar. Harry sighed and banged his head on the table. He really should get new friends. "That Ravenclaw girl! Harry always gushes about her when we get out of DADA with Ravenclaw, " Seamus laughed. "That is so adorable! Ah, young love..." George squealed. Harry tried to go under the table and hide but Hermoine pulled him back almost immediately, making the bespectacled boy scowl. "Don't you guys have any other stuff to do that doesn't concern my love life?" Harry exclaimed indignantly, earning yet another reprimand from Madame Prince. "You're just salty because you know how many guys and girls have their eyes on Y/L/N, " muttered a smirking Ron. "Why won't you talk to her, Harry? " asked Neville rather innocently. Harry looked at you again. Why wouldn't he talk to her? Well, because first- he was awkward; second- what if you didn't want to talk to him?; and third- what would he even say? You continued to write calmly, almost lazily, over the piece of parchment. Harry noted that your hair continued slightly darker, your eyes still shiny, your nose still a little scrunched up, and your feet would still wigle sometimes. And just like that Harry had a small grin again, completely forgetting all about the pairs of eyes on him. "Completely whipped, " whispered Dean to Hermoine. Eventually, they all went back to their tasks, leaving Harry once again alone with his thoughts while looking out of the window. Harry wanted to meet you. He wanted to know your likes and dislikes, what you do when you're anxious or stressed, and find out if you always wiggle your feet when you're sitting. He wanted to know if you were just as attracted to this type of weather as Harry was, or if you preferred sunny days. So, with all of his Griffindor's courage he could gather, he stood up. Harry firstly took off his robes, which were starting to get uncomfortable for a while now, and rolled the sleeves of his white shirt up to his elbows. His clothes were a hot mess (quite literally); his vibrant red tie was loose on his neck and his shirt was ruffled, the top of it unbuttoned, as Harry always felt claustrophobic when clothes were too tight on him, and one of the sides of the shirt practically untucked from his black trousers. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to tidy it up a little, but the raven black locks stayed as messy as ever. He then adjusted his black rimmed new glasses, oblivious as ever from the intense stares of the boys and girls that were close enough to see the green eyed boy. Taking a deep breath, he started his way towards you. "Hi, " Harry said hesitantly, looking down at you. When you looked up, your heart race picked up significantly . The boy was none other than Harry James Potter. Harry, the cutest and the most adorable boy to ever exist (and one of the hottest, to be honest). You felt a strange tingling sensation in your belly as you took in the careless situation his white shirt was in, his loose tie, the rolled up sleeves, and his messy hair. You also noted that Harry had new glasses. His cheeks were a little flushed, and he was biting his lower lip. If possible, your heart started to beat even faster and you were sure your cheeks were no better than Harry's. Harry, unsurprisingly, didn't really notice that you were practically checking him out, thanks to his nerves, and took your silence the wrong way and panicked. "I'm sorry, It's just that I saw you here alone, and you're really pretty- I mean! The tables's pretty! Yes, very nice strong shiny wood, such a good table, really. " You blinked at him. "And the sofa. Must be so so comfortable this sofa. I see why you like it; it's big and warm and it seems like a really good place to take a nap, " Harry continued his ramble, apparently not being able to stop, and getting more nervous and flustered as he talked. He could just feel the group's hysterics from behind; Ron's uncontrollable laughter and Dean's wheeze, Neville's uncertain thumbs up and Seamus smirk. Harry was pretty sure that Hermoine was facepalming and he was terrified of all the teasing from the twins and Ginny he would have to endure once this nightmare was over. He didn’t even want to imagine what his friends and classmates from the other houses were thinking (probably that his awkwardness was too embarrassing and that they would have a good laugh when telling their own other friends, but it didn't matter). "I'm sorry, I'm just going to go– " Harry started to turn around when a hand stopped him. "No! No, I'm sorry, I was just surprised, " you interrupted, quickly standing up and grabbing Harry's arm, pushing him back. Your hand continued to gently grab his wrist, getting unconsciously closer to his hand at each passing second. Your noses were just a few inches apart as well as your bodies, aching to get just a little bit closer. Harry was sure that his heart had exploded by now and he was just a very alive magical breathing zombie, while you feared that your legs were losing its strength and energy. Harry's hand wanted to touch your waist, but it refrained from doing so, fearing that you wouldn't be comfortable with it. "Besides, I wouldn't want to destroy your dreams and not invite you to sit on this really good sofa. " Harry was stunned for a moment at your unexpected teasing and then laughed the most quietly he could, remembering that you were still at the library with hundreds of other students. And with the help of your shy smile and warmth, as well as the calm environment they were in, Harry started to relax, the bad nervous and insecure feeling slipping away. "I'm Harry, " he breathed. You were still close to him. Almost too close. "Y/N, " you answered just the same, glancing up at his handsome face with a, in Harry's most unbiased opinion, precious small grin. After a few seconds of staring at each other, you both pull slightly apart and sit down on the sofa. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Mr. Potter?" you joked, leaning back to the corner of the sofa, trying to keep your nerves in check. "Well, maybe the infernal teasing from my idiots of friends back there? And you seemed like good company, " Harry responded, leaning back too, turning his head so he could see you. "I'm flattered, but they seem so much fun," you wondered. "Hm, they are. For the majority of time at least. " You turned momentarily your eyes to the parchment over the table. You were writing next week's assignment for History of Magic (you convinced Professor Binn to tell you beforehand) but now you wanted to take a break. You wanted to enjoy Harry's company while it lasted. "How come you're not working or studying? It must be a first in study thursday, " you asked, looking at Harry again, just to see that his eyes were already on you. "For the first time in my life, I'm not behind anything, and already finished my potions assignment with Hermoine's help... So I was just there looking at the window and, well, you know the rest, " said Harry. The big window came all the way down to the far corner Harry and you were in. The new duo was tucked in the corner of the sofa, and had the most perfect view to the outside. You had her back almost turned completely to the window and the wall that met just behind the pillows laying around over the dark red velvet sofa. Harry now noticed that there was a huge red and black squared blanket folded between the cushions and your robes, which looked like they were thrown rather clumsily aside. "How come I've never seen this place? It's way bigger and comfier than the other sofas and tables in here, " Harry frowned. The naps he could have had in here, hiding from Hermoine when she went crazy. You laughed lightly. "Madame Prince is a family friend, so she arranged this place when I came here. Which is more often than not... " you trailed off, noticing Harry puppy's eyes directed at the cushions and her blanket. "Honestly, what is your problem with furniture? Do you fall in love with it every time you see it? " you asked, amusement lacing your voice. Harry snapped his head back at you. "What?! No! " he exclaimed, a little embarrassed. "But this sofa really is the best, truly. I think you'll have a hard time getting rid of me now, " Harry grinned, adjusting his glasses. You had to almost physically stop yourself from fawning over the bewitching boy. "Well, you are now welcome everytime. I could use some company, " you said, feeling giddy. You smiled at each other. "Even if you only come here because of the strong and shiny wood table and the really good sofa and pillows. " "Y/N!" . You and Harry spent the next hour and a half talking and laughing (mostly quietly) with one another. You were just so happy with one another that you didn't want the day to end, afraid that your bond would suddenly disappear. You eventually opened your blanket because it was starting to get too chilly in the library to ignore, even with the flaming fireplaces. The two of you were now tucked in in the blanket, leaning against the many cushions against the line where the window and the wall would meet. Your shoulders, legs and arms were brushing under it, but neither of you made a single move to change that. The room was still packed, seeing that it was still technically early, but not for much longer, as dinner time was slowly approaching. "I absolutely love this weather. It's even more magical than Hogwarts itself," Harry sighed. "Didn't know Potter boy had now become weather boy, " you giggled. "Oh, fuck off, " he laughed, nudging your shoulder with his. "But really, I just love it. I think this dark grayish colour is my new favourite. Just after the colour of your eyes, of course, " Harry grinned. "Oh my, someone save me from this corny weather boy, please!" you mumbled dramatically. "But, honestly, it's my favourite too. I'm really hoping for it to rain tonight."  "Yeah, me too. It's one of the best feelings ever, " Harry said foundly. You frowned. "It's just so pretty. I don’t understand how some people don't like it." "Well, not everyone can have good taste, Y/N. Imagine if everybody liked treacle tart? A total tragedy, " Harry sighed in content, imagining one piece of his favourite dessert. He then pouted. "Now I'm hungry. Thank you very much, Y/L/N. " You laughed. You sure seemed to do that a lot with Harry around, and the butterflies in your belly were still yet to fly away. "It's almost dinner time, anyway. So don't worry much, I'll save you one tart when we get there, " you rolled your eyes. Harry's face fell, and he looked at the rest of the library. There was more noise now, almost everyone was exiting the room or cleaning their things up, heading towards the Great Hall. His friends were still at his previous table, some getting up and stretching (Harry could almost swear he heard Dean's back crack all the way to where he was sitting with you) and others making sure everything was in place. "Already?" He asked in a small voice, making you freak out over how cute the boy looked at the moment. Harry's eyebrows were furred and his pout grew even bigger. His pupils were so dilated that you almost couldn't see his green irises. He was sad and disappointed that he had to leave you and your spot, and you couldn't help but feel giddy at the thought. "Harry, " you called with your eyebrows raised, a smirk plastered on your face, "As much as your lost little puppy face amuses me, we should get going. I too want treacle tart, so let's go, " you teased, starting to put everything in your navy blue bag. "But Y/NNN, " Harry whined, dragging your name. "I am so comfortable right now. Don't want to get up. " "Are you always this dramatic?" you asked, crossing your arms. Harry gave you a lopsided grin, "Did you know that they say that my dad and Padfoot were total drama queens? Must be the genes." You cackled. You weren't even really sure of what, or who he was talking about but it didn't make it less funny. You pushed him off the sofa, yanking the blanket from him and shoving it into your bag, ignoring his protests. You swung your bag over one shoulder and looked up at Harry. "Ready?" Harry mumbled, "Could've at least let me keep the blanket..." You started to walk away, shaking your head, and Harry quickly followed you. "Honestly, Potter, we don't have all night!" "Hey- wait f'me!" Harry exclaimed, hurring to get to you. You just giggled in response, and the two of you made your way to the Great Hall. . Both you and Harry had to endure much teasing and many questions from their respective friends. Harry had his face hidden in his hands, wanting to evaporate out of there. You would play with your rings and roll your eyes at any stupid question. You rolled your eyes quite often. After the initial shock, the whispers and glances had started, annoying you profusely. Can't people just mind their own business? you thought.

Harry wanted to hide under the table, and he had now decided that he should really really really get new friends. Fortunately, the curious stares (at least the obvious ones) eventually stopped. Harry caught your eyes a few times and he made a silly face everytime that happened. You replied every time with another one, enjoying your new 'game'. When the desserts started to appear on the tables, you immediately took two pieces of one of the treacle tarts and lifted your plate excitedly as soon as you and Harry made eye contact again. Harry smirked, and lifted his own plate, showing you three pieces there.

One for you and two for me! he mouthed. You bursted out laughing, shaking your head and shoved a bit of the sweet into your mouth. As for Harry, treacle tarts never tasted better. But this didn't go unnoticed. Especially not the teachers table. Professor Flitwick started a whole bank of bets about his new pair; he and Fred and George Weasley would associate soon enough. "I just know they will be together by January,"  he whispered to himself. "Oh, don't be ridiculous, Filius. Christmas is their time, believe me," answered Professor McGonagall, having heard him clearly even over the room's noise. "February, " piped in Dumbledoor dreamily. "Or never, " grumbled Snape. Professor Sprout threw her water at him. Not long after dinner time had ended, the students went to their respective common room. You and Harry met at the bottom of one of the moving stairs, trying to get ready to go your own way. Ron, Hermoine and a few others waited for him a little far away, not wanting to wait for the teasing to continue. Awkward and flustered Harry was one of their favourites. "Well... I guess I'll see you around," you said, adjusting your bag while looking up at the fidgeting boy. "Yeah..." Harry trailed off, glancing around. He was hitting himself internally for being so lame. "Harry. " you called, lifting your hand to Harry's face so he would face her, thanking everything you knew for your newfound confidence. "Thank you for going to see me at the library. I am really glad you did," you smiled softly. "I am glad, too, " he whispered. Harry then grasped your hand, which was still in his face, and stroked the back of it for a bit. "Good night, Y/N." He eventually said, grinning at your red face. You huffed and pulled your hand away just to push him slightly back. "Don't get all mushy now, you wanker!" "Ah, you wished, Y/L/N, " Harry retorted, starting to walk back to his friends. He then looked at you again. "See you around!" "See you, " you waved and went back to your own friends. . It had been almost three months since that thursday evening, and you Harry really did see each other round. The duo became almost inseparable, if someone saw you, you would see Harry Potter not far away, and where you saw Harry you would see you close by. You had become very close with the rest of the Griffindor's. Harry eagerly introduced you to them a few days after you officially met, and you were welcome with open arms. As for Harry, he was quite nervous when meeting the other Ravenclaw's, but with your help, he soon made new friends with them too. The two of you, despite all of the circumstances, would always make time for one eachother everyday. Be it just relaxing by the black lake, studying at your spot in the library, or messing around the corridors. You had built a beautiful friendship in a very short period of time, and that both scared and amazed you. It was all just so natural. It was all just like it should be. Most said you were secretly dating. After all, you were always touching each other. Arms around the other shoulder or waist, sometimes holding hands, the occasional kisses in cheeks, forehead, head, and the frequent hugs. It all started when you noticed how touch starved Harry was. So, you first started to do small things when you two were alone; grab his hand, lean your head on his shoulder, linger a little longer in your before short awkward hugs. So, when you asked Harry if and how comfortable he was with your affections, and then if you could display them in public, you received a very excited nod from Harry and a very tight hug, as well as a kiss on your head.  

After that, neither of you stopped your affections. Feelings soon developed after your friendship blossomed, but neither you nor Harry acted on it. You liked how things were, you liked your intimate uncomplicated friendship. And besides, you thought that the others' feelings were purely platonic, afraid of rejection. Hermoine and Ron had yelled at the both of you because of it more often than not. It was almost Christmas time, and you couldn't wait for it. You would be seeing your family for the first time in a while, and then you would finally meet the rest of Weasleys, as Ron had invited you to spend the rest of the holiday at his house. When you knew that both Harry and Hermoine were going too, you couldn't help but say yes. Just a few more days. It was thursday again, and because of your now finished tests and exams, you and Harry decided to ditch the study day to spend the afternoon at the black lake. It was nostalgic. The afternoon was just the same as the day you had met, except this time the sky seemed even darker. There was still no wind, and there was still no rain, only the dark sky and the winter cold air. Harry had his back against one of the trees close by, and you were snuggled up to him, trying to block out the cold, even though the you two were under your warm red and black squared blanket. Harry's strong arms were wrapped around your figure perfectly, making you relish the fuzzy feeling that went through your bodies, as you both tried to get comfortable.

Your hair was pulled into a careless bun to keep it out of your face. A fluffy scarf was wrapped around your neck, and you had previously discarded your robe into a shorter and warmer dark blue cape. Your nose and cheeks were flushed with the cold temperature, but you could've sworn you had never felt so warm before. In your gloved hands was a securely held book, and you tried to get lost in its world. Which was very very difficult when Harry was just behind you, holding you, being the adorable boy he was. He had a black beanie in his head and some of his messy raven locks escaped underneath it. His nose and cheeks were pink as well, making his green eyes stand out. Harry wore a dark blue (almost black) hoodie which was a little big on him, but you almost died of how cute it looked on him. For the past half an hour, not much was spoken between you two. You wanted to just finish that chapter, and Harry was trying his best to not disturb you (although it was quite difficult for him to stay still). He first stared a little at you, as you were too beautiful to not to. Then, he read the book with you for a while, but quickly got distracted by the weather. It entranced him, just like in that day at the library. If he could, he would look at it for hours. Harry didn't notice when you closed your book, adjusted the blanket around you more tightly and looked up at him. Only when you lifted your hand to cup one of his flushed cheeks did Harry snap out of his trance. Harry leaned into your touch. "Hello there," he gave you a boyish smile. "Hi, weather boy," you grinned. You stroked his cheek slowly while your other hand reached for his crooked glasses. "I thought we agreed to not talking about that again," Harry frowned. But he wasn't really upset by it, if the amusement in his eyes were anything to go by. You shrugged. "You were making heart eyes at it again." "Well, it's just like the day we met! Remember?" Harry asked, wiggling his eyebrows. "Of course I do. Such a special day. The day I found out that the Harry James Potter fell in love with couches and tables." you said, trying to keep a straight face. But when Harry gave you the most done look you had ever seen, you bursted out laughing. "You will never let that go, will you?" Harry huffed, turning his face to the opposite side from you. "Never," you said. However, when you saw his pout, you couldn't resist and leaned to kiss his jaw. "But, honestly? It was one of the most important days of my life." Harry turned to you. "Why?" he asked curiously. "Because I got to meet the one who would become my favourite person," you smiled softly. Harry's heart was practically bursting out of his chest and he was very worried that you could hear it. He could only stare into your eyes, and the need to taste you was becoming too unbearable for him. A minute passed. Then two. And Harry finally opened his mouth. "I really want to kiss you right now, " he breathed. Your mind went almost completely blank, a very rare occurrence. All you knew was- one, if you were standing right now your legs would have probably given you up; two, the strange feeling in your belly was starting to become a little too intense; and three, you really wanted to kiss him too. It didn't take much for you to answer. "So why don't you?" You met half ways, neither was sure of who moved first. Your mouths were just pressing each other softly, relishing on the new mind-blowing feeling. Harry's lips were slightly chapped because of the cold and they moulded perfectly against your soft ones. It was a soft, innocent peck that lingered for some time. Harry pulled apart after a few seconds, opening his eyes and looking into yours. Harry's breathing was uneven matching your breathy one. And in one quick and craving move, you kissed again. Your hands were on Harry's chest, moving them in an up-and-down motion. Harry grabbed you by the torso and pulled you onto his lap, trying to get you as close as possible. This time, the kiss was passionate, almost desperate, as your mouths moved against each other. Neither cared about the air necessity; you didn't want to pull away, and Harry didn't really care if the oxygen in his lungs ended. Harry brushed his tongue against your bottom lip, making youpart them. Your tongues involved with one another, fighting for dominance. Your teeth would sometimes clash but not in a painful way, it was in a hungry one. You eventually gave up and let Harry explore your mouth. You focused now on the feeling of his body pressed on you; his well built (thank Merlin for quidditch) yet slim body. You travelled your hands up to his neck and your fingers played with the hairs that escaped the beanie on the nape of it. You then threw the beanie to where your book was lying, and ran your hands through his locks, no doubt making them even more messy. When your lungs were finally burning too much, you pulled away just enough for you to trail hot-mouthed kisses from the corner of Harry's mouth, to his jaw and his neck. Harry leaned his head slightly back so you could continue to leave kisses on his exposed skin. He was breathing hard, and he gripped his arms around your waist and torso for stability. His mouth was slightly agape, and he definitely wasn't much cold anymore. Harry didn’t even notice until now that the navy blanket fell just around your waists, keeping the lower part of your bellies and legs warm. You trailed her kisses back to his lips, leaving one chaste kiss there before pressing your forehead against Harry’s. Your breaths were ragged and neither of you had the energy just yet to open their eyes. A few minutes later, your eyes fluttered open and you saw Harry already staring at you with a small smile on his face. You didn’t really know what to say. Should you say thank you? Or confess your feelings for the boy. But wasn't it obvious? Well, Harry really could be very oblivious sometimes. Maybe you should just run and move out of the castle. You have always wondered what Beauxbatons looked like, maybe you could go there. But your thoughts were interrupted when Harry sighed. "You're so pretty," he whispered, as if talking would be too loud and ruin your moment. You chuckled. "I am going to be honest, this was the most unexpected thing I could have thought of when I woke up this morning, and I don't really know what to think, " you said, brushing your nose with Harry’s. "Oh, hm, was-was it bad? I-I'm sorry, didn’t mean to-" Harry started to ramble, and tried to pull away. "No! No, Merlin Harry, I'm sorry, didn’t mean to make you feel bad!" you rushed to say, and hugged him closer. "It was really perfect, I just don't know what this means for us now, you know? It's a little scary, that's all." Harry leaned in and brushed your lips together. He gave you a light kiss before pulling back with the most gorgeous smile you had ever seen. "Well, it would be a little awkward if now you said you didn’t like me back, but I'm pretty sure your mouth was saying something really different not even five minutes ago, so-" "You're a complete idiot, did you know that Harry Potter?" you exclaimed in disbelief. "Your idiot now." You looked like a little kid on Christmas. "My idiot." You snuggled against Harry's chest, being now turned sideways on his lap, and leaned your forehead into the junction of his neck and shoulder. Harry's arms were still closely wrapped around you. You then pulled the blanket up again, making sure it covered all of your bodies, trying to keep the warmth that didn't escape. Harry looked up at the clouds. The dark grey colour still stained them, and little drops of rain met the ground timidly. He didn’t notice when it had started raining thanks to the tree you and Harry were currently leaned on. The smiles on your faces didn't seem to want to leave. It seemed the same. Just like that thursday at the library, as if nothing had changed. But things really did change, and in the most unique and pure way possible. Harry returned his attention to the girl in his arms and hugged you tighter. A content sigh left his lips as he closed his eyes. Here he was, in his favourite place, his home; in Hogwarts, with this magic sky above him, almost protecting him from all his nightmares just because of it's magic aura, with you in his arms. How he got so lucky? He wasn't quite sure. But he finally was happy. Thank Merlin for thursdays, especially the ones with dark grey skies.

Jamie crawling into the huge hoodie you're wearing when its cold and just laying down on you with his head in your chest under the fabric

Rain beats against the windows of Gryffindor tower causing you to worry about James, who would let no weather stop him from playing quidditch. You however are curled up in front of the fire in the common room, toasty and warm in your favorite sweatshirt.

The portal to the common room swings open and the quidditch team steps through, all of them equally soaked to the bone, though James seems to be the only person with a smile on his face. His eyes scan the common room before landing on you.

"Y/N!!" he nearly squeals as he bounds towards you. He jumps onto the couch and shoves his head under the bottom of your sweater and wriggles up so his head and broad shoulders are under your sweater, his damp hair peeking out from the collar.

You squirm away from him, screeching and giggling, shocked by not only his wet hair but his freezing skin. "Fuck! James! That's so fucking cold!" you shriek.

A chill runs through your body as James rubs his wet hair against your chest as he gets comfortable, "Don't worry I showered" James assures.

oh my god 😭 <33

Unbuttoned (Sirius Black x Reader)

W/C: 1.8k

A/N: I just wanted to write the softest Sirius x Reader fic I could manage. It's just fluff, with a bunch of cursing. fem!reader & brief mentions of alcohol.

You realize you’re in love with Sirius Black in the midst of a storm so tempestuous it feels apocalyptic. And you suppose that’s fitting, given you’ve just acknowledged that the feelings you've been harbouring for one of your dearest friends are deeper and more achingly desirous than they have any right to be. This realization—the bottom of the chasm through which you’ve been falling for years—certainly feels like the end of something, but you’re hoping that this particular ending leads to the beginning of something infinite.

How did you get here? Not here, outside in the pouring rain on the abandoned Quidditch pitch in the middle of April. But here, in the rich complexity that is love; the tangle of feelings and thoughts and wants and needs and hopes and fears that makes you weak in the knees and yet completely invincible. Yes, you had fallen completely and terribly, tumbled heart first, into the abyss that was love. And there, at the depths of your soul was him. Sirius Black.

Sirius fucking Black. The boy who had copied your Transfiguration notes since first year. The boy who shimmied in beside you during breakfast and stole the toast off your plate because you, apparently, knew just the right ratio of butter to marmalade to bread. The boy who teased you about the your height (or lack thereof) and made it a point to dramatically get Potions ingredients from the top shelf of the storage room for you.

The boy who wasn’t a boy anymore, but a man. A man whose soul had ached and broken and healed with the love of his friends, whose shoulders had broadened and voice had deepened, and who had grown taller and more mischievous and increasingly loyal.

But why today? Why now? Was it those damn muggle movies you grew up watching that told you the rain was romantic and the bad boy — for Sirius was Hogwarts’ resident bad boy, though he cared little for the title — was supposed to fall for the quiet, bookish girl who’d been there by his side all along? It was so cliché that you’d turn the movie of your life off at this point. But today was the day that the realization slipped its warm fingers inside your chest and gave your heart one extra squeeze — as if to say hey, don’t forget to take care of me.

You’re not sure if it’s the fact that Sirius convinced you to come out here—not that he’d had to try very hard, making those perfectly persuasive eyes at you and insisting he needed to clear his head after studying for a grand total of twenty minutes. Or perhaps it was the way he quite literally swept you off your feet to fly you around the empty Quidditch pitch, your arms secured firmly around his waist and your chest pressed up against his back, holding on tightly because you’d never been a big fan of flying, much preferring to have your feet planted on solid ground, thank you very much. Maybe it’s both those things and so much more, because haven’t you been noticing the way your fingertips want to linger on Sirius’s skin and the way your stomach tightens when he catches your eye and shoots you a smile that somehow stops your heart and restarts it all at once.

Maybe it’s the kiss you shared at Christmas, both a little tipsy in front of the Potter’s fireplace, high on the sound of one another’s laughter and one too many pieces of Euphemia’s incomparable Christmas cake. That kiss that you haven’t talked about, but that still makes you blush every time you remember the way Sirius’s tongue had gently intertwined with your own and the way his hands had held you, one caressing the back of your neck while the other drew smooth circles on your stocking-clad thigh. Maybe it’s the idea that that kiss might have escalated, might have drawn you both out of yourselves and into each other had James not come bounding down the hall, shouting for the two of you to come see what Remus was doing.

(He’d been juggling, completely pissed on Firewhiskey and a fancy rum that Fleamont had purchased from a muggle liquor store. And while you had to admit Remus juggling was a sight worth seeing, you couldn’t help but to wonder what could have — would have — been).

Maybe it’s the way Sirius calls you puppy, the nickname holding connotations of care and ownership so that it thrills you each time the word leaves his sweet, sweet lips. Or, it could be the fact that he refers to you as his best girl, his pretty girl, his dove. Always his. Merlin, how you wished.

It’s certainly not helped by the knowing looks you’ve noticed Remus casting your way when he catches your eyes on Sirius instead of on the parchment of the homework you’re working on. The smug grin on his face when you quickly whip your eyes back to where they’re supposed to be. The absolutely frustrating way that Remus makes sure to leave space between the two of you in every class so Sirius has no choice but to sit sandwiched there. He’s such an outrageously good friend it makes you want to smother him — with hugs and sometimes a pillow.

Maybe it’s all of that and more — the way Sirius has barged into your dorm three Sunday mornings in a row now, just because he misses his girl (there it is again!), causing your roommates to groan; the way he whispered his gratitude when you bandaged his knuckles after he punched some Slytherin who spoke ill of Remus last week; the way he hugs you after each full moon to assure you that your friends are all in one piece and then lets you take care of him, allowing himself to be soft and vulnerable with you in a way that no one else is allowed to see.

Yes, it’s all of that. His charm, his recklessness, his joy, his pain, his loyalty, his smell, his voice, his hands, his heart and his soul and, of course, his hair. Saints, his hair is fucking perfect.

It’s funny the way the thoughts come to you like a deluge from your spot on his broomstick, streaking across the grey sky between bolts of lightning, your heart palpitating partly from the thrill of the ride, but mostly from the absolute impulsiveness of the decision you’re about to make.

“Sirius!” You call out over the swirl of wind that blows its course past you, somehow never interrupting the control he has of your flight, “We should land. It’s so bad out here!”

As if to emphasize your point, thunder claps loudly to punctuate your words and you feel your fingers dig deeper into Sirius’s sides, literally holding on to all that is dear. The only indication that Sirius heard you is the feeling in your stomach of falling—this time, literally. Your guts feel as though they’re still in the air as Sirius expertly hurtles you toward the Earth, stopping just short of the ground, his feet landing perfectly on the mud-streaked pitch.

You don’t realize you’ve been screaming until Sirius is laughing at you and turning to face you so he can grab your shoulders and steady you.

“I got you, Y/N,” he laughs heartily, “I’d never let anything happen to my best girl.”

Your hands are shaking as Sirius helps you off the broomstick, your boots sinking slightly in the muck.

“You’re mad,” you whisper at him, close enough to his body that you’re certain he can hear you despite the rain. In the back of your mind, you wonder how ratty you look right now with your hair sopping down your shoulders, your robes sticking to you, and your mascara probably running down your cheeks in unflattering streaks. Somehow, you can’t bring yourself to care because Sirius has seen you at your best and he’s seen you at your worst and right now, you’re just you.

“Yes, probably,” he agrees with you, a smirk on his lips, “But you love it.”

Shit. You did. You love him. And though you’d never been as much of a daredevil as this boy—man—standing before you, there’s something on the tip of your tongue, battling to be let loose from your lips, threatening to burn you if you swallow it whole.

“I love you.” Your reply is in earnest and the way you say it makes Sirius pause, his own hair a dishevelled wet mess (yet still, somehow, perfect—fucker), his lashes fluttering at you as he tilts his head to the side. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out—that’s a first, and it makes you slightly concerned. Then his lips are pursed and his brow is furrowed and he backs up a step and you think your heart might stop beating and you want to sink into the mud completely, let it consume you and never give you back to the daylight.

“Don’t joke,” Sirius says, voice short and uncertain. You laugh—loudly. It’s the only reaction you can think to have and that laugh completely dies on your lips, replaced by something softer, yet more desperate. Him.

Sirius is kissing you—hard. He’s kissing you like his very salvation depends upon finding something in your kiss. What does he want to find? Requited feelings, warm comfort, infinity? You kiss him back, running your tongue along his lips, giving him all those things and more. Giving him yourself—his best girl, his pretty thing, his, his his, as you’ve always been.

His hands come up to tangle in your hair, one sliding down your cheek and you wonder if the wetness there is all from the rain or if you’re crying because it feels like a millstone has been lifted from your shoulders and you’re fairly certain if Sirius didn’t have a solid hold on you, you’d float away.

And then he’s pulling you even closer, bringing your body into the folds of his own and even though it’s raining and cold, you feel heated, like the sun is shining only for you.

Just as it feels as though your lungs will collapse with lack of air, Sirius’s lips let yours go and you inhale deeply, chest heaving. His is doing the same as he stares into your eyes, that vulnerability only you’re allowed to see fully on display.

“I wasn’t joking,” you say quietly, another crack of lightning illuminating the sky behind you. It’s nothing, you think, compared to the electricity you feel in Sirius’s gaze.

It’s his turn to laugh and then he kisses you again, softly and quickly this time. His lips are just hovering over yours, his hands on your waist. “I love you, Y/N.”

masterlist

all of my works will be linked in here.

a reminder: there is no smut, as i don’t feel comfortable writing it; my works are all mainly fluff and angst (maybe idk).

the golden era

the marauders era

hi! can i request a harry x slytherin!reader imagine? could you also write that the reader’s best friends are blaise, pansy and draco and she’s flirty and cool and popular and harry’s had a crush on her for a long time and now he finds out she always had a thing for him but she didn’t want to admit it? thank you so much btw if u will, have a nice day <3

Say That Again

Pairings: Harry Potter x fem!reader

House: Slytherin

Warnings: none

GIF not mine! Credits go to the original creator!

A/n: Genuinely sorry for the slow updates!

“Y/n and I had a bet,” Harry turned his heels towards the courtyard as he heard Malfoy’s mocking voice. “She said Potter might well last for half an hour. But I think he won’t even last for ten minutes.”

He resisted his urge to tumble Malfoy down the Black Lake as the Slytherin seeker scoffed at her friend’s direction.

“What say, Potter?” Y/n stepped towards him in calculated steps, her disarming smile never faltering as she stood in front of him. “Make me win.”

He never understood what was that thing about her that made his heart skip a beat every time he had to compete with this particular girl during Quidditch matches (he didn’t like catching the snitch before her, though she had succeeded in capturing the restless orb many times). Nor could he comprehend why the Potions class ended in a wink when he was partnered with her.

Was he falling for a Slytherin? Heck no- he already did.

“Y/n! Transfiguration this time,” Pansy pulled her friend before Harry could reply, sending a knowing glance at her as she whispered, “Flirt with Saint Potter later.”

Getting killed by a dragon or forgetting about Y/n?

He’s getting killed this time.

“How am I supposed to battle a dragon?”

“Bloody hell, mate!” The red-haired Weasley sighed as he dramatically threw all the bundles of papers that Hermione had made him skim. “Ask Y/n if you only want to last for more than half an hour for her. I’m going to ‘ed.”

Harry jutted his chin on the fragile book that lay uninterested on the table.

“Hermione?”

Instead of words, he met with a ‘tut’ from her direction as her bushy hair grew bushier, if possible, as she sat with a castle of library books plunked around her.

This was turning insane.

“Honestly,” She scrunched her nose up in the air, “whatever you are planning is ridiculous.”

“No, it’s Y/n,” he replied dreamily after which he met with a thick spined book on his head.

Hermione was scary but the dragon was scarier.

🜁🜄🜁🜄🜁🜄🜁🜄🜁🜄🜁🜄

Double Potions? Nah, a total hell.

“Like them, Potter?”

Harry rolled his eyes for the millionth time that day as the familiar white-blond hair zoomed into his sight while he tried to enter the dungeons.

Blaise, the ordinary scowl stuck under his slitted eyes, blocked the door further, his chest purposefully thrust forward like Malfoy.

And Harry could not find even one sensible reason for Y/n befriending them.

“Made them myself. And this isn’t the only thing it does,” Malfoy pointed as the badge turned an ugly green, reading Potter stinks.

“Brilliant,” the raven-haired boy hoisted the bag on his shoulder. “Now move.”

And that’s where their illogical rivalry lightened.

Harry definitely didn’t understand how he stepped into this situation where both of them were standing inches from each other, their wands ready to at least sabotage this Potions class.

“Woah, mate, calm down.”

The familiar voice reiterated in the shell of his ears as he unconsciously lowered his wand, sending death glares at the boy who just shrugged and walked away with Blaise and Pansy as Y/n crossed her arms threateningly.

“Don’t worry about those badges, though,” she tried hard to maintain nonchalance. “Consider this gift from my side.”

And as she pinned the badge she had in the fist of our palm to his still chest (he couldn’t tell why he wasn’t breathing), he had to blink at least four times to make sure she did that.

She winked at him as she walked away, pointing at the badge for the last time.

Potter Winks.

🜁🜄🜁🜄🜁🜄🜁🜄🜁🜄🜁🜄

“I’m telling you, you won’t even last for two minutes if you keep daydreaming like that.”

He ignored Hermione’s upbraiding as he lied, huffing at the bland ceiling of his four-poster bed.

“Are you even listening to me?”

“No.”

He heard Hermione pluck up her books rather aggressively, and when the last footsteps died away, he rubbed his eyes in frustration.

“So much for a Slytherin, eh, mate?”

“Does that even matter?”

Ron gulped in defeat, and shrugging, shooed Crookshanks out of the dorms.

“Why don’t you just ask her out? Maybe, I mean…”

To Harry, it almost felt that the landing of the mattress slipped from beneath him.

“I don’t know… Look at her- she is so popular, she flirts do well-”

“Just with you,” Ron replied in utter boredom.

“That’s out of point- er-excuse me?”

“Only with you.”

“Pirate L/n likes Saint Potter?” Malfoy looked with amusement between Pansy and Y/n- Pansy, who giddily laughed at Y/n’s not-so-common flustered expression.

“I’m not a pirate!”

“Don’t tell me you hoodwinked Draco’s badge making,” their other friend plonked on the luxurious green couch as Y/n tutted. “Makes everything so obvious.”

“I don’t know what you all are vomiting about,” she rolled her eyes and made her way out of the dungeons.

“Accio fireb- Ahh, darn it!”

Harry shrieked in annoyance as the broomstick dwindled mid-air like straw before falling down with a thud.

Now even bad luck found him.

“You know, you are doing it wrong,” his eyes landed on the same Slytherin girl who was currently leaning on the door frame, watching him intently. “Move your hand a little less. Just a little.”

Her cold hand molded onto his warm, sweaty hand and with a flick of the wand, Harry could see the Firebolt soaring towards them in stable movements.

“Nervous for tomorrow?” Her voice was soft, not challengingly attractive this time. And this softness suited her.

“Uh- no,” he threw himself over a stray chair in the deserted classroom, patting the chair next to him. “I’m dying this time.”

Y/n snorted as she sat beside him, her eyes following the movement of his green ones.

“You will be alright. I trust you.”

And she was quite right about him being...splendid. Harry saw her lips curved into a suppressed smile as she watched him hunting for the Golden egg.

Competing with him was motive driven, but watching him was different. Quite impressive he was, for sure.

🜁🜄🜁🜄🜁🜄🜁🜄🜁🜄🜁🜄

“I will not have you, in the course of a single evening, besmirching the name of Godric Gryffindor by behaving like a babbling, bumbling band of baboons!”

The Slytherins visibly froze at this commotion well before they entered the hall. This meeting was going to turn interesting at a point.

McGonagall sighed at the sight of silver and green as she turned back to the ‘bumbling band of baboons’.

“Ah, well. Since Professor Snape is not fit for guiding this stuff, the Slytherins are joining us today. Sit down, boys on the left and girls on the right.”

Harry’s heart stood still as Y/n sat straight in front of him, and even though they were sitting feets apart, he could feel the palpitations down his chest.

Minutes after Ron demonstrated ball dance with McGonagall, and the rest of the students were moving hand-in-hand with slow movements, they both were still on their seats, eyes still scanning each other.

“I’d appreciate it if you join Potter, L/n. He needs practice before the ball,” McGonagall called out as she passed by with Ron.

What was she even anticipating at this moment? At least not those teasing smirks from her friends.

“Er- do you know how to do this stuff?” The Gryffindor pointed between them as Y/n shook her head.

“Not going to lie, no. But you got to be ready for the ball, isn’t it, Potter? So, together?”

“Together.”

It felt like heaven bestowed on them as they strolled through the hall, his hand on her waist, and her hand on his shoulder. They didn’t care that they were tossers at dancing, they just carried out, without a single word, silently swaying in each other’s embrace.

Harry knew he needed her.

🜁🜄🜁🜄🜁🜄🜁🜄🜁🜄🜁🜄

“Staying back for Saint Potter?”

“Pansy, the door’s straight,” Y/n deadpanned as she sluggishly rolled over the couch.

No matter how pictureistique Hogsmeade looked today, she was drained till her guts.

“Tell him that if he doesn’t ask you for the ball today, I’m framing him somewhere.”

“Draco, door’s there for you too.”

Blaise grinned at the sour faces of his friends as he scurried out of the common room, anticipating to satisfy his sweet tooth.

Y/n had her to-do list ready for today- sleep, bath, eat, sleep.

But Potter found his way to eat out a big portion of it, nonetheless.

Brilliant.

“Where next?” He piped from beside her as they strolled through the empty corridors of the castle.

“You know, Harry?” He turned to her, his long raven hair brushing the periphery of his shoulder like a bird skimming the waves. “I’ve always been with green all my life. Why don’t you show me some red?”

“So restless to see Gryffindors?” Harry chuckled as he pushed her all the way.

“I mean, yeah. Don’t pretend like you haven’t seen ours!”

🜁🜄🜁🜄🜁🜄🜁🜄🜁🜄🜁🜄

“Umm, Y/n?” Harry carefully looked up from the rug as she buried herself under the invisible horizon of the book. “I just realised you have your buttons fixed, er- incorrectly?”

“Are you asserting or just shooting in the dark?”

“They are… Should I help?”

He got to his feet as she hummed in response, a floaty feeling regaining its reign in both of their stomachs.

“I’ve always wanted to ask you since that day at practice,” he gently undid a single button and looped it through the correct place, “Would you come with me to the ball?”

“Are you sure we won’t tangle ourselves while dancing?” Her lips curled in a badly hidden smile as Harry shook his head, his fingers still fumbling with the buttons.

“Well, would you?”

His face grew hot as her fingers caressed his cheek, gliding further to his nape as she pulled him closer.

And for once she wasn’t cold; only a warm breath batted his cupid bow as her forehead touched his...her shallow breaths almost sounding like an addictive lullaby to him.

“I’d love to, Harry, only if nobody contradicts.”

“Did you just call this Potter by his name?” She could hear him grin as she bit on the obliterating walls of her mouth.

What was making it so difficult?

Her train of (unanswered) questions were wrecked in between as her lips converged into his, a sweet dampness of his mouth reminding her of butterbeer. His hand raced down to her waist, closing the non-existent hiatus between them.

This happened for a while until Crookshanks conferred on them by his presence, the sudden mewl, making them jump. And no surprises when both of them fell from the bed (all thanks to Harry’s clumsy self), a low gruff groan bursting from Harry's throat.

“So, I guess it’s a yes,” he inquired as she mended to his askewed specs.

They were interrupted by scruffy footsteps and as soon as Ron entered the dorms, he froze, the bag of Honeydukes sweets cowped down to the floor.

“Er- I’ll let you both finish,” he pointed at Harry's (more than ever) messed up hair, his hand encased compactly around the Slytherin, whose lips were far more swollen than Harry's.

Y/n awkwardly slipped off from Harry’s grip onto the rugged floor as he chuckled at his friend’s uneasiness.

“It’s a yes.”

“Brilliant. So what you liked the best about this red,” he pointed lazily at the silhouette of the dorms.

“The floor,” she laughed rolling into his chest, the soft material of his jumper rubbing onto her cheeks.

“What- what? Say that again.”

i love this sm <3

Obliviously yours (4.3k)

summary: when you and james get detention and are tasked to serve drinks at slughorn's party, you have no choice but to agree than fail the class. but the whole night, everybody gives their piece of mind about you and james' relationship. this makes you rethink everything you do and everything you feel for james.

warnings: drinking

pairing: james potter x fem!reader

a/n: oh god writers block sux!!! I've finally took the time off and wrote this little gem. actually loved this piece, hope u do too <3

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James Potter was evil. Absolutely vile. You knew how your relationship with him worked. It was the type where you argued whenever you saw each other, debated about almost everything, and made most of your subjects a competition. But it also had boundaries you both put up, the first one being not sabatoging the others work.

And guess what the boy did? He sabatoged your fucking work.

You were near bursting, your sneer louder than you've ever let out. Slughorn was panicking in front of your table, where he stood with a frown on his face. "Miss Y/l/n, I suggest you go clean yourself up." He announces, his voice loud for the whole class.

You huffed out a tired breath. "Yes, I'll go do that. Right after Potter is held accountable for his sticky fingers sticking into my potion!" You said on the top of your lungs, pointing at James.

James Potter, who had the audacity to sit on his chair looking so innocent, began to smile. You knew it was him who ruined your potion, who else would it be? Your potion was the one that looked the most presentable in that class, and James must've been jealous.

James scoffs, "Excuse me? Professor, I think Y/l/n should be punished for even accusing me of such things!" He said dramatically, making your eyes roll in place.

"I know it was you! You were jealous because I did better. I always do, that's why you couldn't bear seeing me with the praise and you put in the powder into my potion!"

You swore you were about to launch over where James sat if it wasn't for Marlene gripping your arm tightly. She kept you in place while you and James eyed each other like you were in battle.

"Enough!" Slughorn interrupted, his face hot red with anger. "Both of you, I'll see you in detention at six! And no, this isn't because of who sabotaged who's potion. It's because both of you disrupted my class. We'll investigate the 'sabotaged potion' later." He said, gripping his wand tighter into his fist.

You were about to shout another quip to James, knowing you'd be in detention anyway and decoded that he deserved a rude comment. But with a flick of his wand, Slughorn silenced both you and James with a spell then walked to the front of the class casually.

You rolled your eyes as James did the same. Sirius patted his back beside him, and Marlene gave you a deathly look. Just another ordinary day.

—

Tap, tap, tap. James' shoes echoes through the room, his fingers tapping on the wood of his chair. He seemed impatient, maybe the waiting was driving him mad. Or maybe it was simply the uncomfortable feeling of being in the dungeons, with the dark green and the freezing walls surrounding him.

"Can you stop that?" You asked quite rudely, your eyes sliding to look at him.

James simply nodded and stopped his actions, his leg still scuffling but not making a loud sound. Sometimes, times like these for example— James Potter was ... tolerable. It doesn't happen very often, because as he says, "You're always the cause of my headache, Y/l/n." So you always saw him whenever he was uptight and stressed out.

"Sorry." He muttered lowly.

One of these rare moments of him, was also quite ... attractive. You would never say it out loud and to anyone. It was the same as coming up to him and getting his ego fed even more.

But you couldn't stop the raging feelings whenever your eyes needed a rest. He was quite the sight, tall, muscular, and that hair. You were quite obsessed with his hair, dark and soft. Whenever it felt too long during classes or you needed to focus on something else, your eyes would shamelessly land on James.

You only got the side view of him from where you usually sat in class. But it didn't stop you from ogling the boy. So now, when you were alone with him while seated in Slughorn's dark office— you couldn't help it. James was fiddling with his fingers, and your eyes didn't leave burning into his face.

"You think he's going going make us clean all the trophies again?" He asks suddenly, his voice sounding more raspy after all the silence.

You quickly looked away, hear rushing to your cheeks. "That's probably the worst punishment I've ever gotten." You admitted, trying to focus on the conversation. "It didn't help that you had like ... five or six trophies and pretended not to see them so I had to clean it." You added.

You still remembered the day vividly, just last week you received detention with James Potter as well. It was one of the worst days you've had. Being stuck in a small dimly lit room with him and having to clean dusty trophies. It quite literally felt like you were being trapped in a cage and having to deal with the devil.

James interrupted your thoughts with his snicker. "Had to show 'em off, y'know? I thought girls liked smart guys." And when he said it, you froze.

Maybe the freezing cold Rook suddenly got hot, and you couldn't breathe because your neck felt restricted with your red and golden tie wound tightly around you. "What? Were you trying to impress me?" You asked, your brows furrowed together in confusion.

As if James had just noticed what he said, he sat straighter but kept his gaze in front of him. "No I was just ... no— no I was trying to make you jealous." He stuttered.

You suddenly scoffed, but laughed at the same time. "Please, I've done better in almost all of our classes and you know it."

James takes offense in this, his arm looping on the side of his chair and looking at you. "Yeah but you've gotten us in more messes." He shoots.

"Oh, so you admit I'm smarter than you!" You couldn't help but reply.

"What—! No, remember how Flitwick praised my part of our group project?"

"Don't try to change the subject, Potter. I'm better and you know it. You know it but you can't admit it." You said, looking down at your nails as the conversation bored you.

"Yeah, right. I can't believe I ever tried impressing you, Y/l/n." He said coldly, barely sparing you a glance.

"It didn't fucking work, because I will never be caught dead being impressed in you." You sneered, your words cutting his wounded heart into two halves.

Just when you were about to take back what you were about to say, offer him an apology or do something— the door busted open and Slughorn came in with the same angered expression he had during class.

—

"The problem I've had with you two ... it's an endless list." Slughorn explained, his fingers intertwining together. "It's been six months, and all those six months have felt like pure hell to me whenever both of you are in my class." He said, making it clear how angry he was.

"Professor—" James tried, but was rudely interrupted.

"No! You will stay silent for as long as I'm talking, Mr. Potter. And I won't be tolerating a word from you either, Miss. Y/l/n." He said calmly, though his expression said otherwise. "Is that understood?"

You both nodded, "Yes, professor."

"Alright, now let's talk about your form of detention. Since all our trophies have been polished, cauldrons have been scrubbed, and you can't be trusted to tutor first years without competing with each other—really there's nothing else you could do." Slughorn explained, sighing and rubbing a hand on his forehead.

"Might I suggest—"

"No talking!" Slughorn repeated, making you slump on your seat. "I've had it enough with you two that I'm considering kicking you both our of the Slug Club." He complained, lighting up at his own words. "Wait a second ... both of you are in the Slug Club, yes?"

You and James nodded, not saying a word as both of you stared at the angry professor.

"Well, then! You could serve the drinks! This is perfect, I needed last minute volunteers for students who needed extra credit. I think both of you would do well for servers, hm? It's not that hard to pass around drinks." He said to himself.

James scoffed, "No, wait— you're asking us to be servers? To a party that we were respectfully invited to?"

Then you added, "Yeah, this is just— quite rushed, sir. I was looking forward to this party, to meet people from the ministry and make connections. I— I even bought a dress for this occasion, I thought—"

Slughorn put up a hand, "Now, now. Don't you complain to me about all this. Both of you deserve this punishment, after making it really hard for me to teach in class." He said, looking like he's had enough. "Don't worry about the dress Miss. Y/l/n, both of you can come in formal clothing— I shall not ruin your night of confidence." He cleared his throat while getting up from his chair.

Both you and James tried to reason with the man, but it was to no avail.

"Sir—"

"I can't believe—"

Slughorn waved his wand, and both of your mouths were sealed shut. When the room was quiet, he muttered, "Now excuse me, I shall be going over some papers. Both of you should go to bed, you must be exhausted after all the fighting, I'm sure."

—

The common room was empty, it was just past seven but it seemed like no one wanted to witness you and James' quarrel that almost always happens after a talk with a professor.

After the painting door closed, James skipped to the couch and threw his body on it tiredly. "I am fucking exhausted." He admitted, sighing heavily and stared at the fire that was still burning brightly.

"Shut up, Potter. I can't even hear your voice without getting upset. This party was important to me!" You said suddenly, throwing your bag to the ground, the contents spilling out.

"Right, because it didn't to me. Got a new suit and all." He muttered, his expression obviously looking more sour now.

You decided to sit on the lounge chair that was next to the couch, striking up a conversation. "Yeah? Was it snazzy? Plain black ... or?"

"Why do you care?" James snaps, "Yeah, it's plain black." He adds sheepishly.

You roll your eyes, chuckling all the while. "You're so lame, Potter. Who're you trying to impress with a plain black suit?" You mocked, your eyes glancing at him.

Just as he talks, your eyes don't dare to move from his face. He pushes his hair back, still short black curls tumbling down his forehead. You think then, that he's so gorgeous, with his eyes looking so warm and brown. His lips are red, highlighting his pale features.

Then he makes a small sound, flicking his fingers to signal you to listen. "Hey, you listening?" He says, his tone so low. And it sounds so different than how he usually talks to you.

"Er .. yeah. You were saying who you're trying to impress ... and I dunno, blanked out." You admitted, trying to look anywhere except his pretty face.

"You really wanna hear this? I don't think sharing who we fancy are part of this rivalry relationship." He says, a teasing grin painted on his lips.

"Sure, whatever." You agree, shrugging your shoulders. But inside, you felt uneasy. You didn't know much about James Potter's lovelife, all you did was that he fancied Lily Evans. Once upon a time he did, because lately it didn't seem like he was interested in the redhead at all.

Part of you felt jealous, but then you remembered that you had no right to be. James Potter wasn't your boyfriend, or even friend on that matter. Even though you admit you are attracted to him, and would maybe want to snog him in a broom cupboard — you really had no right to be jealous.

"She's ah ... witty. I guess that's a word to describe her, she's beautiful too of course— but her beauty doesn't compare to her brains. I love a smart girl, y'know? A friendly competition in a relationship would be awesome." James chuckles. You nod your head, turning your head to the fire after you saw James' enamored expression.

"You sound like you're obsessed with her." You comment, trying trying avoid his gaze.

When James nods, you don't see it. You don't see how he says "I am." While he's looking straight at the back of your head.

"One thing I hate though, is that she's so fucking hard to talk to. I don't think I've ever had a proper conversation with her ... she's always way too busy to pay attention to me. It sucks that way." James admits, biting his gums and fiddling with his fingers.

"Who is she?" You asked bluntly, desperate to know about this mysterious girl that James is apparently in love with.

James tsked, "Not a chance I'm telling you."

You looked back to him, "I think you should do something about the suit. Plain black won't impress anyone. Maybe add a flower or something, girls love that." I love that. You tried to keep it in your head, careful not to let it out of your mouth.

—

"How do I look?" You asked Marlene, who was laying in bed with a book in hand. She glanced your way and dropped the book, getting up and approaching you.

"Amazing!" Marlene exclaimed, her hands smoothing down the fabric of your dress.

"Not exactly house spirited, but I thought yellow would have a nice touch." You smiled, happy to see your best friend just as excited as you were.

The dress you were wearing was long, going down and nipping your ankles. It was made of an intricate silky design, layers of white and yellow overlapping each other. The top half was just as beautiful, detailed green flowers sprinkling the area near your chest. Then, the straps on your shoulders were thin. It was made out of white fabric, a beautiful detail covering them.

"Merlin, Y/n. You look gorgeous. I'm sure Potter will stare at you the whole night. What a shame you'll have to serve drinks, though." Marlene complimented, her fingers tracing the designs of your dress.

"Potter? James Potter?" You asked, not paying attention to anything else she was saying. "What are you on about, Mar?" You said, half angry and half curious.

"I'm just saying ... you look beautiful tonight, Y/n. He may be your enemy, but he's a boy and he's got eyes. There's no telling what would happen tonight, what with your tension as well." Marlene shrugged, handing you another fresh smile.

"He's not— he won't. He's into someone else, anyways. I'm betting all my galleons it's Lily Evans." You said, an irritated look coming on your face.

Marlene traced a last shape on your dress, then her hands reached up to comb through your head of hair. And finally, she put her hands on your shoulders, smiling enthusiastically. "Or maybe it's you, honey."

—

Marlene's words made you rethink every decision of yours as you made your way up to the seventh floor. Your hands was nervously picking at your dress, looping through the fabric and smoothing it. James had agreed to meet you in front of the tent an, because as Slughorn had ordered, the both of you were supposed to stick together where he could see you.

You bite your lip as you see James' figure, his body clad in the black suit he told you about. It didn't usually feel like this when you were approaching him. Maybe it was because of Marlene's words and because you were wearing a dress. A beautiful dress, that made you look gorgeous. Any other time, you'd be dressed in normal clothes and approaching James to gloat about your marks in Transfiguration. But this time it felt different.

But perhaps, it was also the quickly approaching attraction and/or feelings you had for James. Before you had time to rethink anything else again, James waved a hand your way.

You approached him confidently, making sure you didn't mess up anything while you walked to him. James turned his head to peer inside the tent ad you want towards him. When you arrived behind him, he didn't bother looking at you as he kept his gaze on something— or rather someone else.

"Slughorn wants us to pass drinks for that side. Those are his friends and connections, so we're allowed to serve them alcoholic drinks." James explained, his hand pointing to a group of someone.

You muttered a yes to him and let the boy continue. "And that side, those are all students. You can probably tell the difference between them, but just a heads up before you shove firewhiskey down their throats." He said, chuckling at his own joke.

"Got it, Potter." You told him, keeping quiet as James stood silently as well. "What else?"

James seemed to be knocked out of a trance, as he shook his head but kept his gaze where it was. "Huh?"

When you shoved him over to see who it was he was looking at, you weren't surprised. "We're you looking at someone?" You teased, though a smile wasn't present on your face. "Lily Evans, huh? I love her dress." You commented, closing the tent flaps shut after that and looking at James entirely.

"No, I— I was looking at—" he seemed to cut himself off, not knowing what to say I the midst of it all. Because in front of him stood a pretty girl, standing straight looking heavenly.

You didn't dare to meet his gaze, not wanting to suddenly catch his eye and let him see through your expression. So instead, you focused on his breast pocket. A single flower sitting limply inside it, pale green— just like the ones that detailed the top half of your dress.

"Oh, wow. You really took my advice and went with the flower." You raised your brows, flicking the flower playfully. "Looks great on you ... you look great tonight." You praised, feeling gutsy.

James didn't say anything, his body frozen in place and his lips sealed. Then he looked at you and caught that perfect second where you frowned just the smallest bit. And he thought his heart would break into pieces any moment then.

"Guess I'll see you inside, then."

James didn't have time to respond, letting you walk away as you heels clicked and echoed through the halls. All he wanted to do was pull you closer, kiss your hand gently and tell you how incredible you looked tonight. But he couldn't, just like he couldn't all these past years he's been obsessed with you.

—

"No, Longbottom you can only have the drinks on the left. Usually I'd let you do the fuck all you want, but I don't really want to fail Potions this year." You said with an annoyed tone, your hand already growing tired after holding a tray full of drinks for the past hour.

"Oh you're serving drinks for extra credit? Y/n, I though you were excellent at everything!" The boy in front of you laughed, some alcohol clearly already inside his system.

"No you idiot! I'm here because James Potter decided to be a dick to me again and got us both into detention. Detention being serving drinks to people like you— who can't follow the rules."

Longbottom put up his hands defensively. "Woah, just because loverboy got you into another mess don't take it out on me." He said with slight amusement in his tone.

"Lover— why does everybody keep saying that? Me and Potter aren't fucking dating. We aren't anything." You said with a scoff.

A voice behind you startled your nerves, "Really? Because I thought we had some sort of friendship after last night. Advice giving is actually one of the things that start a friendship, Y/l/n. When I met Pads, he gave me an hour of advice on how collared shirts effect our daily lives. It was bullshit honestly, didn't grasp a single thing out of that hour." James rambled, but finally ending on giving you a grin.

With a confused look, Longbottom scrunched his nose and slurred out an excuse from both of you. Then you turned to James, seeing that his hands were empty, you shoved your tray on them. "Hold that for me, I need to go to the bathroom." You told him, trying to escape from the situation.

James smiled like he knew what was going on. "No way. I observed you the whole night and you didn't even drink a single drop. Which I'm quite concerned about because you must be parched— point is, you don't need to go to the bathroom."

You sighed, "Alright, I don't need to. But I want to. It's so crowded in here and I can't even breathe without people asking for drinks."

James muffled his laugh, "That is your job." He replied, giving you a small smile. Somehow, that smile made you feel a little bit better. You used to be confused when someone told you that James had the ability to make someone feel better so quickly. But now you understood it. Because that small grin had made your heart quicken and your lips tingle to smile back.

"I'm just ... exhausted. But that won't cover it, I'm more than exhausted. My arms sore and my legs hurt so much in these heels." You complained.

James' face lit up, an idea sparking in his mind. "Everyone here is either drunk, or too busy chatting up with each other that they won't notice two servers sneaking out. Come on, I know a place."

—

"It's chilly up here." You muttered, rubbing your arms to get some warmth in. It was no use though, because the wind blew harsher. James had bought you to a small balcony, just like the Astronomy Tower but without the big telescopes and much smaller.

"No one's been here everytime I come up here. It's pretty much deserted, me and Remus found out about it in a rush." He told you, looking out to the sky.

The sky and it's endless limits, tiny dots on the sky blinking back to you. You admired the night sky, taking note of every little movement of the clouds and smiling in awe.

"It's so beautiful." You comment, your hand fiddling with your dress to distract you from the numbing cold.

"You are." James said from behind you, walking closer to where you stood.

You turned back to look at him in haste, "I'm what?"

"You're beautiful." James said, his mouth twitching at the excitement of finally saying those words to you. "You look beautiful tonight, like every other night."

Your expression wasn't readable when you talked. "Shut up, Potter. Don't say shit like that." You tell him, turning back to look at the dark sky.

"What do you mean?"

You scoffed, "Don't say things you don't mean. You tell me I'm beautiful now. Then you bring me down everytime we compete in class. It's like you manage to make me hurt everyday and not notice it."

When you finished, James touched your shoulder with his fingers. A nudge, his finger grabbing at you gently. You can feel his icy cold skin on yours, marveling at the new feeling. "Is that what you think? That I'm only competing with you?"

"What else? You've never seen me, and I'm always just right behind you, stupidly staring." You say the last part lowly, feeling ashamed that you said the words.

"I just— I just wanted to impress you." James said, scratching the back of his neck.

"I don't like to be impressed like that. It feels like shit. Why don't you try to impress me like Evans? She might not like it ... but I would." You  confessed, saying it sheepishly.

"Really? I'm a little extra, I though you'd appreciate a guy who challenges you and does it subtly."

"Things change, maybe I just want you."

James stepped closer, his fingers snaking up to the sides of your face. "You mean that, darling?" He asked you, a smug smile making its way on his lips. His thumb traces the curve of your lips, getting a bit of gloss on his skin. "I've wanted you for so long ... and I don't want you if you're still unsure about it."

"Kiss me." You ordered, your hands climbing up to lay flat on his chest.

"Are you sure—?"

No more hesitation this time. You don't let James finish as you press your lips to his. He obliges and bring you closer, fingers slipping under to grip your waist. You let out a small sound come out from your mouth, James' heart growing weak at it. You breathe into his mouth, sharing oxygen in the small confines of his kiss.

As if it's like a competition, you don't want to pull away and admit defeat on who was out of breath first. So finally, James pulls away and grins at the sight of you. It felt good to see him smile so sweetly at you, wanting to get used to the sight.

"I'm still confused how you didn't notice, Potter ... I stare at you so much in class I'm surprised I even know the material." You laughed.

"I dunno." He shrugs.

"You're so oblivious." You comment, picking at his suit jacket and shuddering at the slightest when he leans close.

"Obliviously yours, though." He mutters, pausing just a second to take in your image before kissing you sweetly.

—@ wrathspoet

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