Howlers; H.p.

howlers; h.p.

pairing: harry james potter x fem!reader

synopse: everytime harry fucks anything up and gets in trouble, there is a bet: which howler will he be receiving?

warnings: everything’s fine au, howlers, james and sirius being an iconic duo, just fluff

word count: 1.4k

a/n: this idea is from a pin i saw (can’t link it here), so credits to its owner! hope you enjoy it :)

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Harry James Potter's life was no easy task, but in the best way possible.

Voldemort had been defeated on the fateful 31st October of 1981, within the dark sky of halloween night. No one knew exactly what happened; just that he went to the Potter's to kill the youngest of them, and the curse, apparently, backfired. There was also a rumor about a stag and a black dog, but we will not get into detail. All that mattered was that Voldemort was gone. For good.

Most of his followers went to Azkaban, including Peter Pettigrew, for his betrayal and hidden devoted passion to the dark side. There were some rebellions in the following years, but nothing too big, as their leader had fallen. And because there were such good aurors taking care of everything.

So, having James Potter as his father, Sirius Black as his godfather, and Remus Lupin as his, basically, second father and godfather, growing up was eventful, to say the least.

Don't get him wrong; he absolutely loved them with all of his might. He just wished that they made it easier for him sometimes. Like now, for example.

It was a typical wednesday morning. Everyone was in the Great Hall, as breakfast time was still going and there would be no classes for another half an hour.

You were currently almost completely in your boyfriend's lap, eating your cereals and talking happily to Ginny and Hermoine.

Harry, however, was not very happy; in fact, he was dreading every minute of this breakfast.

He had his arms wrapped around your waist, and his head was buried in your shoulder, eyes closed. He was trying his best to ignore his friends' teasing, the glances from people around and, mainly, the big windows.

Why? Because Hedwig would enter the Hall any minute now. Why was he dreading it? Howlers, of course.

He had pranked Snape along with the Weasley twins the previous day. It was pretty good, if you asked Harry. All of the cauldrons had exploded, and confetti was thrown at Snape, as it was his birthday. They just had to do it. One week of detention and McGonagalls lectures were more than worth it. But there was a little detail that Harry always seemed to forget; the howler he would get the day after.

There were just three options:

1, James and Sirius congratulating him and wishing they were there;

2, Lily wanting to beat his arse;

Or 3, everything mixed together and the complete chaos.

So, here he was; trying to hide in you, hoping you would save him. "Harry, love, I swear to Merlin, I loved your prank-"

"Hey!--" Fred and George yelled from somewhere.

"- but what were you expecting? They do this all the time. You better be hoping that my mom won't be in that howler, then it would be embarrassing," you grinned at him. In all honesty, you usually were involved in the mess (growing up with Harry would do that to you) and your mom was a troublemaker along with the Marauders in their years- the only voice of sense being Lily (even though we all know that Lily secretly loved it all). So, this didn't really faze you; it was actually amusing.

You weren't part of this prank because Harry wanted it to be a surprise. And one hell of a surprise it was.

You too got a week worth of detention because you couldn't stop laughing. Ron and Dean got 3 days. The rest of the students got all one night just because.

"Why can't they just be normal people?" Harry's muffled voice asked.

You rolled your eyes, still smiling. "We are talking about our families here, Harry. Nothing less should be expected."

A few moments passed. Everyone was talking with their friends, and the High Table was still full with all of the professor's and staff. The noise in the Great Hall was full of life, and it was strangely comforting.

Suddenly all the chatter died down, and everyone was looking at the windows. Harry immediately seated upright and snapped his head to the windows direction.

The motion almost made you fall, and that made Harry wrap his arms tighter around you, and pull your body flushed against his well-built chest.

A snowy owl majestically flew around the room with two letters in its beak. One of them was bright red.

Harry loudly groaned which got several chuckles from around. He could swear that Hedwig did this every time for attention. Sirius probably bribed her to do it; fly in the most attention-bringer moment. Fucking Padfoot.

The letters fell into your lap, as you were still on Harry. You cackled loudly as you picked the howler up and wiggled it right in front of Harry's face.

Harry pouted and took the letter, sighing. Looking around, he saw every single pair of eyes on them, the silence defining.

Harry closed his eyes tightly in exasperation, taking one last deep breath, and opened the howler.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER, WHAT THE HELL--" Lily's voice bellowed.

"I AM SO FUCKING PROUD OF YOU, SON!--"

"James Fleamont,"

"MOONY MOONY MOONY, DID YA HEARD ABOUT THE PRANK?!"

"SIRIUS, NO! WHERE DID YOU CAME FROM, OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

"PADS, THE PRANK ON SNIVELLUS, BRILLIANT! He learned it from me--"

"Actually, if he learned it from someone it was from me. Remember that time, Remus and Sirius were--" your mother's voice echoed through the letter.

"NO! Out of here!" Remus' voice yelled in the background.

"And he got what? One week worth of detention? AMAZING!" Sirius laughed.

"Minnie's getting soft, honestly--"

"Harry, please behave; I love you- James you get back here right this second or I swear to Godric."

"Lily-flower, darling, hey--!" James yelped after a big metallic bang!.

"Goodbye, Harry, " Remus chuckled.

"Don't forget to write to us! And you too Y/N!" your mother excitedly said.

"PADFOOT NO--!"

And the howler ended.

For ten solid seconds, no one said anything.

And then, the chaos started.

Yells and money was being passed around. At this point, it was regular free entertainment for everyone. Harry wanted to at least pretend that he was embarrassed, but really, he couldn't.

You yelled out a 'yes!' before jumping from Harry’s lap and running to the High Table.

Once you reached it, you slammed your two hands right in front of Dumbledoor and McGonagall. "Well, professor, it seems like you have a small debt to pay, isn't it?" you smirked.

Dumbledoor sighed. "Very well. Ms. Y/L/N," he gave you a small bag full of galleons. "Minerva," he gave McGonagall another one.

"Yes, Albus, Ms. Y/L/N is quite right, I reckon. And I believe you also owe me something, no?" Minerva raised her eyebrows with a small proudful smile.

You high-fived McGonagall, who rolled her eyes, and put your galleons in a hidden pocket of your robe. "Nice doing business with you. Headmaster, Minnie," you started to walk run back to her table.

When you got there, everything was still the same. Yells, laughs, bickering, the usual. You took place in your boyfriend's lap again, this time facing him and grinned as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "Hello there, my love!"

Harry bit his lip, trying to contain his amusement. "How much did you get this time?"

You eyed him suspiciously. However, you quickly gave in when Harry raised an eyebrow. "...20 galleons," you answered proudly.

Harry grinned. "Why do they keep betting with you?"

"Maybe they still haven't memorised the sore taste of loss?" you sighed dramatically.

"Merlin, I love you so much," Harry laughed and brought your face closer.

"Of course you do, doesn't everybody?" you teased.

Harry deadpanned.

"I'm kidding! I'm kidding, I've been spending way too much time with Padfoot, haven't I?" you tried again. No response from Harry. You then beamed. "I love you."

Harry brushed your lips together, a soft smile adorning his face. And when you were sure he would kiss you, he suddenly smirked. "Doesn't everybody?"

"Harry James Potter!"

Yes, his life really was not easy, but he wouldn't have it any other way.

so fucking cute <33

Daisy Knots

Pairing: Harry Potter x fem!reader

Warnings: cottagecore!au, fluff

Summary: after everything that happens, you and those daisy knots remind harry of what he loves

You stirred in your sleep, feeling the subtle warmth of the sun, you smiled knowingly, and one look at you, Harry smiled too. You were too angelic for his own good. You sensed his thumb brush against your cheeks, and hummed. You could see grass stains and grazes in the mess of his hair, as his fingers delicately worked with unspoken perfection, sticking the small daisies, which you both had collected while gremlining around the garden, in the unbrushed knots of your hair, as if your unabashedly lost physicality didn't startle him.

He loved the way your kisses tickled him, teased him. You momentarily raised your arms towards his jaw, and locking them firmly, pulled him down.

The taste of his lips was an amalgamation of everything sweet and mysterious; sun warmed strawberries, the waft of wild roses and carnations.

Lying on his lap, as the birds struck their unexplainable melody, as if inviting a stupor, you felt full of love. The sweet thrum of your giggle as you watched Harry half way up the tree made time stretch eons long. It stretched forever, only flying when you were tucked by his side in the evenings, a book held in your lithe grip, while you scrunch your nose at his knick-knacks all the while in the background.

The daisy knots in your hair reminded him so much of your essence, pure and innocent, just like the colors of sunset, just as the shimmer of stars.

It was you who made him fall in love with the present, it was you and those daisy knots.

I LOVE THIS SM <333

Dog Days (TASM!Peter Parker x Reader)

Summary: You might have been ever so slightly perturbed about Peter seeing you in your underwear if he wasn’t sporting a large cut along his jawline; one that looked achingly fresh.

“Did you shave with a machete this morning?” You asked, stepping out of the doorway and making room for him to enter.

“A scythe, actually,” Peter deadpanned.

Words: 2.4k

A/N: Andrew Garfield!Spiderman; friends to lovers; heated make-out; cursing; minor injury; mutual pining; possible part 1 of 2? characters are in college & of age.

It was hot. That sticky kind of hot that clung to you and made you feel like tearing your skin off. That makes the sweat pool at the nape of your neck until it slides in a cold streak down the curve of your spine. The New York air was shimmering, alive with exhaust fumes and the output of overworked air conditioning units of every apartment on your block—except for yours. The dumbass thing had broken overnight and when you woke up at five a.m., damp and uncomfortable, you’d called your best friend knowing he’d make a quick fix of it.

But you’d gotten his voicemail, unsurprising given that he’d never been a morning person. Since you’d met him three years ago at freshman orientation, Peter Parker had perfectly offset you in every way. Where he could stay in bed until noon, you were decidedly not a night owl, often cosy in your pyjamas by ten p.m. Peter had a sharp wit and loved to tease, and though his wit brought out a sharp tongue you’d never known you had, you were infinitely shyer than he was. He was perpetually late to everything from the Christmas dinner you’d invited him to at your parents’ home to your final exam for Organic Chemistry—which he’d passed with flying colours—whereas you were punctual to a fault. And perhaps most significantly, you’d never known heartbreak in your life, never had the opportunity because you’d never given anyone your heart to begin with. Peter’s heart, you knew, had endured the worst kind of break. Though he only spoke of her sometimes, you knew his high school girlfriend had died tragically and each year you went with him to visit her resting place, holding his hand and running your thumb over his knuckles as gently as you could. The depths of that pain, written on his face and in his body language whenever he spoke of Gwen, made you steel yourself against love, afraid to give yourself to anyone in case you left them broken and alone.

There was a flaw in your plan to avoid love forever though, and that was Peter himself. As much as you’d tried to swallow them, shut them up in the deepest pits of your soul, bury them where they’d never see the light of day, your feelings for him had only grown in the last three years. At first it was a little thrill each time his eyes met yours, a tingle on your skin when his fingers grazed your own while you shared a carton of fries at a Yankees game. That had grown, exploded really, into a brilliant whirl of colours every time you heard his voice—a sort of love-induced synesthesia that turned Peter’s laughter yellow and his whispers soft purple and his calling your name the deepest, richest scarlet.

You’d fallen desperately in love with your best friend and you were resolutely not going to do anything about it, thank you very much.

“Y/N!” There was a knock at the door of your cramped apartment that drew you out of your crossword puzzle—stuck, as you were, on 18-Down. “It’s Peter!”

You’d barely heard the knock over the sound of Eminem in your headphones, but there was no mistaking Peter’s voice. You were at the door, earbuds abandoned on the coffee table, pulling it open before you remembered that you’d traded in your baggy David Bowie tee and jean shorts for a barely-there camisole and blue panties of the lightest cotton. You might have been ever so slightly perturbed about Peter seeing you in your underwear if he wasn’t sporting a large cut along his jawline; one that looked achingly fresh.

“Did you shave with a machete this morning?” You asked, stepping out of the doorway and making room for him to enter.

“A scythe, actually,” Peter deadpanned. If only you’d known he was being entirely serious—his neck having had a near miss with some villain’s techno-reproduction of a classic medieval weapon only hours ago. “It’s hot as hell in here, Y/N. Are you trying to get me naked?”

Your cheeks flushed and you made quick work of rolling your eyes as dramatically as possible, trying to distract Peter from the change of colour in your face. He was an expert at changing the subject, so much so that you’d long since given up trying to get him to talk about anything he didn’t want to, such as why he was chronically late or where he’d disappeared to that night you had tickets for the Rangers playoff game, or how he managed to find time to workout with his ridiculous school schedule and familial duties because god damn, his arms—you stopped yourself from letting that thought full form, knowing it would send you down a rabbit hole.

“Don’t think I’m not keeping a tally of every time you dodge my questions,” you muttered, moving to the refrigerator and opening it briefly to let some cool air out on your heated chest. The emptiness of the shelves reminded you that you really needed to get groceries because ramen noodles, eggs, and the rapidly decaying bananas on the counter would not keep you alive forever. “And didn’t you get my voicemail?”

“No,” Peter shrugged, “I saw you left me one but thought I’d just swing by.” A small smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, though you couldn’t for the life of you figure out what the joke was.

“Well, the AC is broken,” you informed him, straightened up and facing him where he stood in your living room, his tall and lean frame a familiar sight there alongside the stacks of textbooks and novels, the record player, and the pile of throw pillows you couldn’t stop collecting. For a long moment, Peter stared at you, his head tilted slightly to the side as if he was just now seeing you since coming in. You felt much more naked than you actually were under his stare and shifted your weight from one leg to the other, your hand coming to tug down at the hem of your camisole. Peter had seen you nearly nude before, but this felt—different. Maybe it was the heat, or maybe it was the unfamiliar expression that flashed across his eyes. Either way, it had you squeezing your legs together as subtly as possible. If Peter noticed, he didn’t let on.

“That explains the outfit,” he grinned, tone light, though you noticed the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed hard.

“It was hardly my first choice,” you shot back, “But anyways, now that you’re here do you think you could fix it?”

“This feels like the start of a por—”

“Don’t say it, Parker,” you cut him off with a warning glare, eyes wide. Peter only laughed, though stopped almost immediately, favouring his jaw. Already it looked like the gash was healing and you wondered where he’d gotten it from—it reminded you, oddly, of the ankle he’d “sprained” while showing you a skateboarding trick last summer. You would swear up and down, on every holy text that existed, that you’d seen his bone popping out of his skin. But the next day he’d been absolutely fine and you were certain that the limp he’d had for a week was half-faked.

“Y/N? Are you alive in there?” Peter’s amused voice drew you from your reverie and you nodded, running your fingers through your hair to get it out of your face.

“Alive and well,” you reported, “So you think you can fix it?”

***

As it turned out, Peter could fix the AC unit, but he’d need to pick up a part at the hardware store down the street. While he examined the ancient device mounted on your bedroom wall, you sat perched on your bed, silky pink blankets long since tossed to the floor, watching him with interest, noticing everything about the way his hands moved carefully over the shabby metal, the way his brow furrowed when he peeked inside the unit, and the way his eyes crinkled when he announced that it wouldn’t be an issue to repair.

For his part, Peter knew your eyes were on him—he wouldn’t go so far as to call it Spidey-sense, he just knew you and he’d had an inkling of the feelings you harboured for him for quite some time, though that part probably was Spidey-sense. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel the same way, because god knows he did, but he was terrified to let himself fall in love again; beyond hesitant to ever let anyone get hurt again because of him. But then there was the way you looked at him, your eyes sparkling with delight when he made a stupid joke. And the way you said his name, like it was a magic spell wrapping itself up inside him and making him forget everything other than your voice. Yes, he loved you—more deeply than he’d thought he’d ever love again—but he was afraid to be in love with you.

When he delivered the happy news that he’d be able to get cool air back into your apartment, he felt his heart swell at the look of relief on your face.

“You’re my hero, Pete,” you said earnestly, “Really and truly.”

You had no idea.

“Yeah,” he said lightly, “I’m the best.” He saw the pillow coming at him even before it fully left your hands and dodged it in a swift, graceful motion.

“That’s not very nice,” Peter grinned wolfishly at you and your heart fluttered, “Here I am helping you out like a dear old gentleman and you throw things at me.” With another two quick, almost instantaneous steps, he was at your bedside, his hands coming down to your ribcage, fingers curling in as he began to tickle you mercilessly. You couldn’t do much more than squeal, kicking gently to get him off of you, whining his name as you begged him to stop.

“Peter!” you cried out, “It’s too hot for this!” There were tears in your eyes, threatening to spill down your cheeks and your bottom lip was swollen from where you were biting it to try to keep control of your laughter. Looking down at you, Peter knew he was finished, absolutely doomed, to fall into the warm and beautiful void that was loving you.

His fingers paused their attack and you both seemed to take stock of the position you found yourself in; you, flat on your back in bed, hair a dishevelled mess haloed out over your head; him, legs spread so that they were straddling your hips, his arms on either side of your body, lean muscles holding him up.

“Pete—” you whispered, eyes fluttering down to where your bodies met, lashes wet with unshed tears.

He blinked once, twice, three times, a pregnant pause in the hot air before his brain supplied the two words he’d been wanting to hear, giving him permission to plunge forward. Fuck it.

“Y/N,” he licked his lips, “You—” his fingers moved from your ribs to the edge of your camisole, thumbing across its stitching, “You’re so beautiful.”

Your breath hitched in your throat and your eyes shot up to his, pupils dilated. Your lips twitched, uncertain. “Don’t do this,” you sighed, all the while your own hands moved as if of their own accord, coming to rub up and down his arms, caressing lightly over the rippling muscle.

“Do what?” he asked, hand pausing in its movement to slip under your shirt. He withdrew it immediately, hoping he’d not grossly misread the situation.

“Don’t start something with me that you won’t finish,” your voice was barely there, “I—” You couldn’t bring yourself to say it, couldn’t utter those little words out loud, but you knew Peter understood. You could tell from the way he settled down closer to you, his lips running feather-light kisses along your collarbone, the way he brushed the lightly calloused pad of his thumb over your eyes.

“Y/N, I feel like I was finished the moment I met you,” he said, “And now I’d really like to give you a proper kiss, if you don’t mind.”

“Hopefully you’re as good at kissing as you are at running that mouth, Par—”

The words couldn’t finish leaving your lips because Peter’s shut them right back into your mouth. He kissed you gently at first, then ran his tongue along your lips, asking entrance which you granted easily enough. Your kiss went on for what felt like years, each of you learning the other with care and attention. His hands explored your body freely, eliciting small moans of approval that led him along a path he was memorizing and then his lips were navigating that same path, kissing and nipping at your shoulders, your clavicle, your navel, between your breasts at the edge of your shirt.

You were on fire as your hands tangled into his soft brown hair, nails gently massaging into his scalp. You knew, from the vibrations on his lips, that he liked the sensation and filed that information away for a later date.

Once he’d kissed all the way down to your ankles, Peter flopped onto the mattress beside you, watching as your chest heaved with pleasure.

“It feels even hotter in here than before,” he smirked, “I should go grab that part, yeah?”

You swatted at him, laughter on your lips. “You’re the worst, Peter Parker.”

He caught your hand in mid-air, wrapping his fingers around yours and gently squeezing your palm—once, twice, three times. Three squeezes for three little words that neither of you were ready to say yet, but that you would willingly show each other.

“I’m serious,” Peter said, “I’ll grab the part and a pizza and we can hang out, even though I’m the worst.”

You rolled your eyes again, still trying to steady your heart rate. “Like I said, my hero. How can I ever repay you?” For good measure, you placed the back of your hand against your forehead, faking a swoon.

Peter only looked at you with fire in his eyes. “I can think of a few ways.”

He was out of the room before you could throw another pillow at him. Shame.

thank you so much for the fic rec love <3

☁︎·̩͙✧

Harry Potter

✦ = finished | ✧ = not finished

you’re welcome to recommend me some fics! harry potter | fic recs <—— you will find chapterd stories here!

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blurbs/imagines

Don’t walk away . two by @kalimagik

genre: angst, golden era | summary: Harry’s getting distant... you tried so hard to keep him but things don’t always go your way. You’ve been out of it for awhile but you start receiving little notes that make your day better

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Harry’s girlfriend by @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy

genre: fluff, golden era, jilly alive era | summary: jilly, sirius, & Remus find out Harry has a girlfriend

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Howlers by @ellescrunchie

genre: fluff, golden era, no voldy moldy! au | summary: everytime harry fucks anything up and gets in trouble, there is a bet: which howler will he be receiving?

-

Love letters by @parker07potter

genre: fluff, golden era | summary: harry writes letters to you with the intention of you never seeing them. Well that’s not what happens me

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Meeting Harry's Family by @gemma-collins-ily

genre: fluff, jilly still alive, no voldy moldy | summary: meeting Harrys parents for the first time

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Mystery girl by @nbivagant

genre: fluff, golden era | summary: harry meets someone rather special one night on the astronomy tower

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thursdays of dark gray skies by @/ellescrunchie

genre: fluff, ravenclaw! reader, golden era | summary: who would have thought that one study thursday of dark grey skies could change so much? | notes: this is the cutest fic I’ve ever read 🥺

— series

✧ Father dearest by @emmelineparker308

genre: angst, fluff, sirius blacks daughter au! | summary: Your third year at Hogwarts is about to start and with it come a lot of new changes. Harry, your best friend, and crush is in trouble from some man named Sirius Black. You try desperately to keep Harry safe but what happens when you find out some heartbreaking, mind-shattering information about your father?

PLEASE I JUST LOVE HIM

Andrew Garfield as Peter Parker The Amazing Spider-Man (2012)

*dies because this is too adorable*

First off, my darling Anon you are a cruel one to challenge me this early into the year to write a fluff. But, I'm not gonna let you down and I'm going to try to do this BUT I'M SORRY IF IT'S NOT SATISFACTORY, LOVE. And thank you for sending a request <3

𝑱𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝑷𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 (𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓)

It was a rowdy night, and everyone was high on firewhisky and probably the blunt that Remus brought in earlier.

The Gryffindor team just won another Quidditch Cup this year. And as it was their last year on Hogwarts too, they wanted to spend as much as they could having fun and wrecking havoc undetected ofc bcs who tf had the audacity to sabotage their chance of winning their very last House Cup? Well, you being you felt like all these celebrations were slowly becoming too much for you to handle, so you decided to snuck through the Lady Portrait and tip-toeing your way down to the kitchens. 

It was very weird, walking through the halls at night. There's these indescribable feelings of melancholy and also sadness that crept inside of you. These walls… they held stories of the old days, decades and even centuries behind them. And sometimes it felt really surreal that you were there, standing between those walls, you made a name for yourself, being a part of the history that was written there. It was all like a dream. But it's all coming to an end, as it was 5 months away from your graduation day. 

As you were passing by one of the large windows, you had to stop for a second and stare because there he is, James Potter. He and you have always been friends with each other. Sure, you're not as popular nor outgoing like all of his group of friends, and that fact always made you wonder but he would always reassure you that it was okay and he doesn't care, he only cared about being friends with you. So here you are, confused as to why this boy isn't mingling with the crowds upstairs, but instead sitting here in the dark all by himself.

"Jamie?" You whispered, silently hoping that it was loud enough for him to hear, but not too loud because you didn't want to surprise him. He perked up at the sound of your voice and he turned his head to you, "Hey darling. Fancy seeing you out here, hm?".

You just fondly shook your head and decided to sit next to him. And as natural as it was, he moved his arm to put it around your shoulder and you just snuggled closer to him in response. "Whatcha doin here, Jamie?" you whispered to the fabric of his clothes. He just quietly hummed to the crown of your head and held you closer. 

It's time like this, you were left wondering about what you had with him. Sure both of you could be seen together from time to time, not as much as he was with the boys no. But you were friends as long as he was with them, too. And lately he's been very affectionate with you. Not that he wasn't before, it's just that… usually he only does that when there's only two of you. But now it's gotten more open and your friends have been asking you questions that you were really not sure how to answer either.

You've no idea how much time the both of you had spent just sitting there, watching the stars. It was all so calming. The gentle breeze that would occasionally caress both of your hairs, the gentle hum of hopelessly devoted to you  that emitted from his chest vibrates into yours, and the little light that slowly flickered on the corridor— wait? Oh sHI—

"STUDENTS! STUDENTS OUT OF BED!!" 

James and you immediately stumbled out of reverie and scrambled out of your seats to run away from Filch and his little kitty cat. Not caring about the consequences, both of your laughters rang throughout the whole corridor as you ran. But once you reached the moving staircase, instead of jumping to the one that would lead you to your common room, James dragged you to the one that would lead to the west wing of Hogwarts. But you just went with him, thinking that he would just take you to Astronomy tower.

But your assumption has proven you wrong once James stopped in front of an empty wall across the painting of Barnabas the Barmy. You just looked at him in confusion and asked, "Jamie, why'd you take me here?" James turned his body to you and grabbed both your hand in his,

"D'you trust me?" You raised one of your eyebrow up and tsked, " Does the centaur live in the Forbidden Forest? Does Sirius love Remmy? Does it hurt when I crawl my way up from hell? Jamie love, you're asking me a silly  question. Of course I do" and in response, he conjured a little black satin eye cover and made a gesturing move towards your eyes. You just snorted nervously and playfully push him back, " 'm not into that kinky stuff like Sirius does, J" which caused him to just grin and peck your cheek which left you frozen on the spot.

"C'mon bunny, where's the Gryffindor courage hmm?"

And in that moment of euphoria his kiss left you, you decided to throw all cautions to the window and,

" Y'want some Gryffindor courage hm? I'll show you some courage"

And as those words left your lips, you grabbed the collars of his white button up shirt and dragged him to your height only to smash your lips together.

Both of you knew as James reciprocated your kiss, that this is it. This was the thing that both of you have been waiting for for years. Each time spent together, each kisses left on your temple, his jaw, your cheeks, his forehead, has led to this singular moment that would be captured in time inside the walls of this castle. 

But the moment was ruined as a flash and a click of a camera was heard. You stumbled back as James tried to steady you with his hands on your hips. Both of you heard Sirius before he even made an appearance as his chuckles echoed on the empty corridor.

"Hey Blossom, thanks for the honorary mention of my love for moony, but CAN'T YOU JUST WAIT FOR A SECOND FOR THE KISS?? WE'VE BEEN SLAVING OURSELVES HELPING PRONGS TO GET THE ROOM READY AND Y'JUST—" 

His tirade then just got cut off short to the courtesy of Remus who just dragged him into a full blown snog against the wall. Your eyes widen as Sirius' words register in your brain.

"Jamie? What room is he ta—" all the words left your mouth as you see James standing there in front of a beautifully decorated room that clearly wasn't there before. James just chuckled lightly seeing your face and asked, "well, would ya like a dinner with me, then bunny?" with his puppy eyes that you could never resist.

"Well, if you insist then, My dear Jamie" you grinned up at him. He then linked your arm with him and led you to the center of the room where there stood an elegant dining table with candles surrounding the area. And as you took a glance at your James, you knew at that moment that you're going in for one hell of a ride, with this young man. But there's nothing in this world that would change your mind about choosing him. Ever.

☼︎𝒇𝒊𝒏☼︎