February 1980
Longbottom Hall
Valentine's Day.
What a completely ridiculous idea. It wasn't that she was a cynic or anything of the sort but every year that this blasted day arrived, she'd found it annoying at best. For the full fortnight before Valentine's, the Gryffindor girl's dormitory was enough to make her ears bleed and swear the day off in its entirety.
However, James Potter had requested her company that Thursday evening, and it wasn't until she'd noticed the date on the kitchen calendar that she'd put it together.
She'd almost settled for the black dress—the simple one with the tie around the middle—but a thought burst to life as she remembered the other dress still buried in her bag. The one she'd never intended to bring.
When they'd abruptly left Bill and Fleur's wedding, they had only what was on their backs and what she'd thought ahead to bring. Rifling elbow deep through the scattered belongings in her bag now, she sighed as she felt the wrinkled red chiffon and pulled it free. Her heels were buried in there as well, and she found them hidden in the back recesses.
It hung a bit looser around her frame—even after months in the past she'd still not regained all she'd lost the year they'd been on the run—and getting the wrinkles out had taken more will power and magic than should be used on a single garment. But as it fluttered around the top of her knees, she found it to be more than worth it.
She applied a bit of makeup on her face and ran some Sleekeazy in her riotous mess of hair. As she stared at the girl staring back at her in the mirror, she noticed a small rip in the chiffon. Lips flattening, she lifted her wand and repaired it as a memory floated to the front of her mind: the dress snagging on her necklace as she ripped it off in a dark corner of Tottenham Court Road when they escaped after the wedding.
It's only debut had ended disastrously. Steeling her spine, she lifted her chin and nodded at her reflection. Everything would get a fresh start in the past, this dress included.
A knock startled her from her thoughts, and she turned to find Alice in the doorjamb, leaning with a sly smile. "Don't you look lovely!"
"Oh." Hermione blushed. "Thank you, Alice. It seems a bit silly to be going on a date during times like this—doesn't it?"
The witch snorted and waved her fingers flippantly. "Merlin, no. The one thing I've learned in all this mess is to do things when you have the time. If we wait 'til it's all over we might never get the chance."
The truth of that settled deep in her soul, and Hermione nodded, rising to her feet and slipping on her shoes.
"And, if I may say," Alice paused to grin, "there is a rather dashing young man downstairs who looks eager to take you on said date. I don't think I've ever seen James Potter look so bloody nervous…"
"Nervous?" Eyes widening, Hermione felt her stomach flop. "Well, that makes two of us." Which was utterly ridiculous because they were—well they were something. Involved, at the very least.
Alice ticked her chin to the stairs and then stepped aside so Hermione could sneak by. "Have fun!" She didn't make it all the way down the stairs before the Auror was leaning over the banister and calling down, "And James Potter, you behave like a gentleman or so help me!"
After another two steps, James came into view. Merlin. Tonight he was in black dress robes, although the jacket was shorter, cutting off at his hips instead of dusting the floor. He was sans tie, the top button of his shirt open with a thatch of trim chest hair showing, and a bouquet of red roses was in his hand. Pixies jumped to life in her belly at the sight of him, and she bit down on her bottom lip as she finished her descent.
James pulled an appreciative face, whistling low and clutching a hand to his chest as though she was causing him heartache. With a laugh, she came to stand in front of him, swatting playfully at him. "Don't tease me," she warned, taking the flowers and smelling them deeply. "These are lovely, thank you."
With a shrug, he took them back and tossed them on the table in the foyer carelessly. She scoffed and was on the edge of admonishing him when his long arms banded around her waist and tugged her flush against him. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."
Rolling her eyes, she fought a smile and brought her hands up to rest on his chest. "Now I know you're being ridiculous."
"No," he said, hazel eyes dancing to life as his lips pulled into a grin. "I'm really not." After a weighted moment that felt important, he leaned down to kiss her gently.
He made to pull back but her fingers curled in his jacket, pulling him deeper for a just fragment of time before letting him go. They stayed close, foreheads pressed together, and she could see his grin through the fringe of her lashes.
"What on earth do you have planned? We're in a war, you know," she breathed, shaking her head slightly.
"Hah! Like a war would stop me from wooing my witch. Come on." Threading his fingers through hers, he led her through the front door and past the wards.
xXx
To no one's surprise at all, James Potter was devastatingly charming on a proper date. Over a white linen tablecloth and a chocolate tart, he never took his eyes from her, not even as he sucked a bit of chocolate from the pad of his thumb. It was surprising how quickly and fully she found herself falling for him. While there were still parts of her that grieved for what would never be, the overwhelming parts of her found herself enamoured and greedy for his time.
Over the course of the meal, they'd spent their conversation talking about their lives before the war had stolen their childhood. Hermione was careful not to mention names—or Harry—much at all, which made her contributions to the conservation more difficult. Still, he listened in rapture, reaching across the table and cradling her hand in his as she spoke, tracing his thumb over her pulse point.
They jumped, breaking from their trance as the waiter dropped off the bill. James paid, shoving Muggle currency in the fold before rising and holding his hand out for her. "Come on, let's go for a walk."
She'd have been cold from the frigid February air, the stubborn season refusing to relent under any circumstances, but James' arm wrapped around her, hand settling on her waist. The soft blanket of a warming charm shrouded them as they crossed Westminster Bridge, the lights of London and Big Ben shimmering in the inky black sky ahead.
James' hand fell from her hip, tangling their fingers together and then bringing their joined hands to his lips. Her heart leapt in her chest and when he dropped their locked palms between them again, she moved without thought. Rising up on her tiptoes, she pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, her fingers curling around the back of his neck.
His cheeks pulled into a quick smile before he returned the kiss, his thick arms circling her waist and pulling her higher. His hands parted, one of them sliding up her coat to cradle the base of her skull and the other travelling just far enough south to be considered inappropriate. The hem of her dress lifted infinitesimally as he grabbed a fistful of the chiffon.
Time and space and everything in between faded into nothing as she lost herself in the utter beauty of snogging James Potter. Her tongue swept across his lips, and he opened for her, their tongues brushing and dancing as they clung together in the winter air. Despite the chill, heat spread over her skin and coiled between her thighs when he turned them slightly so her bum rested against the railing of the bridge.
Their lips parted and both of his hands fell to rest on the concrete behind her as their foreheads pressed together.
On the grandest bridge, in the most beautiful city in the world, she felt something give way deep inside her. It flooded her chest, like warm, golden light and words she never dreamed she'd say in her life danced on the tip of her tongue. At some point in the past few years, she'd resigned herself to never knowing real love—in actuality she'd resigned herself to death. Coming back was about second chances for everyone; she'd just never dreamed it would be for her too.
But as the feeling solidified, settling in her chest with an unwavering purpose, she found she was desperate to keep it safe. Letting it free would expose its fragility to the world, and she wasn't sure that losing what she had so recently found was worth the risk.
"Hermione," he breathed, his hands coming up to curl around her jaw and tip her face up to him. "I don't normally… Well, it's just that I feel like I'm starting—"
"I know," she offered, lips curling into a gentle smile. "Me too."
A mask of seriousness settled over his features. "I don't want to be with anyone else."
A huff of disbelief burst past her lips, and she wrinkled her nose. "Are you asking me to be your girlfriend, James Potter?"
"If I am?"
It seemed completely ridiculous—but also endearing and perfectly right. "I've never been one before. I might not be very good at it."
A bright grin broke out on features before he quickly pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth and then guided her to turn so her back was pressed against his chest, the two of them looking out over the Thames silhouetted by the skyline of London. Ducking his head, he whispered into her curls, "Would you believe me if I say I've never had one? So we could learn together if you'd like."
Twining their arms together around her waist, she relaxed and nodded, a smile breaking free. "Okay, I could do that."
xXx
After the most romantic evening of her life, they arrived in a twist of magic on the lawns outside the wards of Longbottom Hall. James lingered, playing with her fingers.
"Thank you for coming tonight. "I'll confess I don't have much intention of having more first dates, but I'm not as rubbish at it as Sirius would have me believe, I think."
Biting back a smile, she pushed a loose lock of hair back from his brow and kissed him quickly. "It was the most perfect night. Thank you."
"Goodnight, Hermione."
He took a few steps back, his lashes fluttering in a wink, and in a soft pop he was gone. A hollow ached settled in her chest, and her face scrunched to one side in thought. It was late now and the cold air bit through her skin as she stood staring at the space he had just stood in for several minutes.
Merlin, help her, but she was in love with the sod.
Rolling her eyes, she focused on the place she wanted to be and followed after him in a column of magic.
xXx
The house was nearly dark, only two windows filled with golden light. Sucking in a sharp breath, she crossed the lawn on her tiptoes, avoiding her heels sinking into the soft earth. She paused at the front door and lifted her hand to knock but it fell quickly to the knob and twisted. Slipping from her heels, she trod softly towards the door tucked down the hall and gulped before knocking.
The door opened and with it, her breath caught painfully. It'd been minutes since she'd seen him, but her heart rejoiced. He hadn't had time to change yet, his Oxford hanging open and jacket discarded but otherwise, he looked much the same as he had all night.
"Hermione?"
The anxiety of the moment pressed in on her vocal cords. "I didn't want to say goodnight," she confessed plainly.
With a lopsided smile, he stepped aside to allow her entry. She'd been in this room—slept in this room—but the air felt charged and electric. Her very magic danced under her skin, every nerve ending alive with its energy.
"Do you want to stay over? I'd have asked earlier," he said, "but I didn't want to be presumptuous."
"Yes, please. But I didn't—didn't get anything to wear." Her blush turned fevered.
Void of his normal cocky swagger, James procured a white t-shirt from his trunk and offered it to her, his lips folding in a tight line. A head rush accompanied the wild rhythm of her heart, and she swore she could feel it in the back of her throat as she turned. Sweeping the curls off her shoulders, revealing the zip in the back of her dress, she waited. After five frantic beats of her heart, she could feel the warmth of him close to her back.
More gently than she thought humanly possible, he released the zip. The air slid over her skin, and a single fingertip dragged over the ridges of her spine, only lifting as it skimmed the curve of her lower back.
She wasn't ready for sex—or maybe she was. No. No, she wasn't. She'd never even seen an erection in real life how on earth could she—
Violently shaking her head to scatter her anxious thoughts, she shrugged from her dress, letting the fabric pool at her feet. When she'd dressed earlier that evening, she wasn't sure that anyone would be seeing her knickers but it seemed a good practice to plan ahead. Now she was grateful for such forethought. They weren't all that sexy—Hermione didn't really own anything like that—but they were pretty, blush pink with simple lace trim.
Her grip tightened on the t-shirt in her fingers before letting it go with a long sigh so it could join the red fabric at her feet. Slowly, she shuffled so she was facing him again, and while her gaze fought to stay trained at the floor, she forced her eyes up. James' normally lovely pale hazel eyes were dark, his pupils blown and his lips parted as he stared at her skin.
"Hermione…" He breathed her name and a trail of gooseflesh rippled along her skin when his hands came up to rest on her hips.
"I don't think I'm ready for… you know. But I want more."
His eyes snapped up to hers, the space between them crackling as he studied her. Still, he didn't move, frozen with his warm fingers curling around her. It seemed it would be up to her. Gulping, she pushed his shirt from his shoulders and moved her fingers to the hem of his vest. Peeling it over his abdomen, his arms rose over his head, and she let her palms smooth along his warm skin. Staring at the ripples and ridges of his muscles, she found herself desperate to study him, to memorise the planes and paths of his body so she would never forget.
Resting her palms on his chest, one splayed over his heart, she paused to cherish that one small moment before sliding her fingertips on the firm lines of his torso and a nasty scar on his side. While she explored his body with a tender touch, he remained stock still, his gaze burning into her cheek. As her touch drifted to the sharp cuts of his hips, his breath hitched and his muscles tightened.
A confession played on her lips and before she could fight its existence, she allowed it to slip free. "I want to touch you."
James shook his head and broke his trance to dip his lips to her shoulder. "S'okay—I don't need you to. I'm not in any rush, Hermione."
She sought his lips, capturing them for her own, pushing her tongue into his mouth. Large hands gripped her waist again, gliding to her arse and squeezing. She gasped as he yanked her forward, his erection hard against her hip. In a bumbling rush, she forced her hands between them and onto his belt.
"I want to," she said against his lips as she manoeuvered his belt free. "I just…I don't know how."
She managed a glance up at him, and he looked almost pained. The thick muscles in his neck tightened and tensed as he swallowed and nodded once. With only the slightest tremble to her fingers, she freed the button on his trousers and slipped them so they were hanging off the curve of his bum. Eyes widening, she froze for a fragment of time, unsure how to proceed and terrified at the idea of him watching her flounder through her first interaction with an actual prick.
Thankfully, his hands moved to the sides of her face, sliding into her curls and bringing their mouths together. With each purposeful press of his lips, her nerves waned and when his tongue slid along her bottom lip she slipped her hand into his pants, fingertips brushing against his smooth skin. He dragged in a hiss through his teeth, pausing to manage a shuddered breath.
She took that as encouragement and tugged the band down, freeing his cock. The curiosity of the moment got to her, and she chanced a quick glance down between them. Panic swelled in her chest at its size and rigidity, paired with heat pooling between her thighs.
James kept touching her, sweeping his palms over her shoulders and the tops of her arms, then her waist and hips. He didn't rush her, didn't speak. With a soft tentative grip, she rounded her fingers around his shaft, and her tongue darted out to wet her lips as she stared in concentration. Peeking up through her lashes at him, she found him strained, holding back—holding still.
"Like this?" she whispered, sliding her hand down to the base and then back up again.
He nodded. "You can hold a little tighter if you want." She obliged, and his knees nearly buckled, his fingers digging into her arse. "Yeah, just like that. You're doing perfectly."
The praise emboldened her, and she worked her hand up towards the tip and then back down again. On the next rotation, she swiped her thumb across the tip and the small bead of moisture gathering there. With each of his laboured breaths, her own need edged higher.
James stepped forward, the tip of him nudging her belly as he swept her curls aside and latched his lips onto her neck and began marking her, sucking and bruising, then laving the skin with his tongue to soothe the delicious tender ache.
One of his hands drifted slowly to her shoulder, lingering there a moment before pushing the strap away. She gasped as he tested the weight of her breasts, massaging them once before taking her nipple between his thumb and forefinger and rolling. Her head fell back, pumping him harder as he assaulted the juncture of her neck and shoulder with his mouth.
His lips moved to her earlobe, tongue dragging up the shell of her ear. "You're so perfect, Hermione. I can't hold out much longer with you touching me like this. Fuck—" He groaned when she rolled her wrist, twisting around him gently before dragging back up. "That's it… just like that."
He didn't quit moving as she worked, and she felt her bra fall away but couldn't bring herself to mind much as she tried to press her thighs together to ease the throbbing in her sex. One hand slid to cup her mound over her knickers, and she cried out quietly and buckled. "I'm going to take care of you. I promise, my love—so close." His voice cracked as he began thrusting into her fist.
Hermione wasn't sure she could take it; she was so desperately in need of relief and all she wanted was more. Her free hand curled around his neck and pulled him impossibly closer, deeper…
More.
"I'm going to come," he warned, and his mouth slanted over hers; a few seconds later warm liquid hit her belly as he stilled his hips and groaned against her lips. "Fuck." He muttered a cleansing spell, and she felt the stickiness on her belly disappear instantly.
Her sex was still pulsing with her own desire, and it took only a handful of heartbeats until James was in action again. Her hand fell away, and he tugged his pants up to cover him before taking her arse in his palms and lifting her easily. She yelped at the sudden move and then again as he dropped her against the mattress and fell over her, caging her with his thick arms and claiming her mouth for the countless time.
"James…"
"I'm going to take care of you," he promised. "Always."
His lips trailed down her jaw and shoulder to the swell of her breast, and as much as she wanted this—and Merlin, she wanted this—she couldn't help but feel the tension spread through her muscles. But James was patient, easing her nerves with each skilful swipe of his tongue and touch. He took her nipple between his lips as one hand slid down the expanse of her stomach, and she sucked in a lungful of air as he dipped his fingers inside her knickers.
As he brushed her wet folds, he groaned against her skin. Parting her thighs just barely, he slid one finger inside her… then another. Her body jerked, her back arching off the mattress as he dragged them in and out of her, pulling out only to sweep his drenched fingers over the pulsing at her clit. His lips moved from her breast to the valley between her ribs and lower still until he was again sliding off the bed and to his knees.
Her eyes snapped open, and she flailed wildly, propping up on her elbows as she stared wide-eyed at him. Him—with the cocky smirk and a wink. "Do you trust me?" he said plainly, his brow arching.
Hermione swallowed thickly. "Yes."
Pressing a kiss to her kneecap and then to her thigh, he worked methodically. With painfully slow movements, he slid her knickers down and past her ankles, then tugged her to the end of the bed. Hermione thought she might combust at any given moment and threw her arm over her clenched eyes in a desperate, vain attempt at disappearing.
She could hear him chuckle, and if it weren't for the fact that he was staring down the most intimate part of her body, she might have admonished him. All thoughts of ire vanished when he dragged a flat tongue up her slit. The hand previously covering her face darted to the top of his head and tangled in his wavy hair. His tongue pressed inside her as his thumb danced along her clit, and the onslaught of sensation made her keen, twisting and lifting her knees as he tried to close around his head on instinct. His free hand curled around the back of her thigh, opening her wide for him.
His fingers replaced his tongue, curling and pumping in and out of her as he sucked and rolled her clit with his tongue. She couldn't think, couldn't control the rocking of her hips as she climbed higher, higher, higher. With a final swipe of his tongue and a twist of his fingers inside her, she came. Every fibre of her body and synapse in her brain thrummed, flooding her with white-hot magic.
The next moments were indistinguishable; she could feel kisses back up against her stomach and along her neck, a warm body pressed into her side and fingers pushing her curls from her brow. Everything about her felt boneless and delightful all at once and as consciousness drifted back into reality, she curled into him, burying her face in his broad chest.
An errant thought of trying to do this with anyone else—with Cormac or Ron—made her shudder and a mistimed laugh bubbled forward. Followed by another. And another.
James stared down at her curiously, a smile twitching on the corner of his lips. "You ought not to do that. You'll give a bloke a complex."
With another bright laugh, she inched higher on the bed and kissed him, ignoring the salty tang on his lips. "It's not that. I just—I'm so happy I waited for you."
His features steeled a moment, smile waning and lips parting as if he were about to say something—but he didn't. He kissed her instead. Long and deep, and before long the pull of sleep was strong, and they were dozing in each other's arms.
xXx
A/N: I forgot how much fluff and smut was in this chapter! I hope it wasn't too boring. I promise the war isn't looming all that far off haha
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