Warning: Contains enough syrup to kill a medium-sized elephant.

James II/OC

It's four o'clock in the morning and James Potter is already awake. 'Already' being a misleading word, since he hasn't slept at all this night. When his tired girlfriend went to bed, James stayed up and wrote his new article in a state one could call a trance. He wrote through the empty hours of night and finished at the time when the sun was already rising and some people opened their puffy eyes, cursing their jobs as milkmen or postmen.

So that is why our James is awake on this morning's cruelest hour. He isn't a least tired, not after all that coffee he has drunk during his writing session. He lies on the bed next to Bess, his girlfriend, and wonders if she would be very upset if he woke her up now.

"Bess... Bessie", he says and shakes her a bit.

She shoves his hand away. "No, I won't give you any sex now", she mumbles. "I'm sleeping. Shut up."

"I wouldn't have wanted it anyway", James answers, his feelings hurt. He stares at the ceiling, bored, bored, bored. Maybe he should start using some other synonym for that word. Or maybe he should wake Bess up and not care about the consequences. Though... Bess' wrath could last for days.

He starts tapping his fingers against his thigh.

"Potter. Stop. That. Now."

"Well excuse me for being alive."

Bess doesn't answer. After a while he thinks she has fallen asleep again and continues his tapping.

"Seriously", Bess snaps, "do you want me to castrate you? Because if you keep doing that, I swear I'll –" She doesn't finish her sentence, just glares at him and then dives under the blanket.

James isn't convinced.

"I have nothing to do", he whines. "Let's do something together."

"It's Sunday, I have a day off, I want to sleep. Why is it so hard for you to understand? If you want action, go out for a walk or something." Bess curls up under the blanket, hoping that certain someone would already take a hint.

"But I don't want to go out alone", James says, the irritating whiny tone in his voice again. "I want to go with you."

Bess moved closer to James under the blanket and took his hand in hers.

"Oh, Jem. You're an idiot."

"Thanks", he grins and pats the lump he supposes is Bess' head. No one else calls him Jem. To others he is James, sometimes Jay or even Jim – Jimmy to those who want to annoy him – Jamie to his parents. But only Bessie calls him Jem, and that makes the nickname special.

"You're welcome", she mumbles. "Now – good night."

"Good night, Bee."