He knew he shouldn't be attracted to her. She was his son's best friend, and he'd known her since she was eleven, but as he watched her from his seat at the table in the Great Hall, he realised he was well and truly fucked.
Hermione sat and leaned over from her own seat, whispering conspiratorially with Professor Flitwick, the Charms professor chuckling at whatever their newest History of Magic professor had said. The year had started off with a surprise for all the teachers when Headmistress McGonagall had announced Hermione Granger was to take over from Professor Shafiq, who'd stepped into the position nearly five years previously. After the Battle of Hogwarts, Professor Binns had finally been coerced into moving on, and Hogwarts History of Magic test scores had thanked him for it.
James had known Hermione had gone overseas to America to study under one of the professors at the Salem Institute of Magic for her Mastery after the Golden Trio had helped defeat Voldemort. He also knew she had stayed on to assistant teach because Harry had a habit of keeping him apprised on the contents of her letters, and here she was, six years later looking like a totally different woman from the girl he'd seen grow up.
There was something about the way she carried herself, so self-assured and more grounded that kept James sneaking glances as he tried to focus on the food in front of him or really anytime she was in the same room as him. She'd been nothing but kind since she'd returned, and the familiarity they had seemed to snap back into place, which only left James feeling more unsettled. The first night he'd dreamt of her mess of curls splayed out on his pillow, he'd firecalled Sirius, who'd listened to him lament about his feelings for his son's best friend. How he was too old for her and how she deserved someone who wasn't still kind of broken from two wars, how she deserved a relationship people wouldn't look down on because of their age differences and because he'd known her for so long. Sirius listened patiently before chuckling and telling him Hermione was no longer the little girl they'd once known, and that it was also her choice if she even reciprocated the feelings James was agonising over.
That hadn't made James feel any better.
Instead, he'd thrown himself into his Transfiguration classes even harder and had ingested probably a few more glasses of Firewhisky than was strictly necessary on a Hogsmeade weekend or two with Remus and Sirius to distract himself. It always seemed to work until Hermione would stride up to him with a story about one of her students, and the smell of her hair potions would invade his senses, derailing all of the progress he'd made to not think about her in any way but as a colleague.
It certainly didn't help when he'd run into her the same Hogsmeade weekend, Sirius inviting her to pull up a chair and join them as Remus flagged Rosmerta down to bring Hermione a drink. He groaned internally as the apples of her cheeks darkened slightly, a blush painting her features. She looked so pretty and windswept, and he wanted to pull her down into his lap and wrap his arms around her waist as he nuzzled into her curls, present company be damned.
He sighed and lay his cheek in his palm as he sat at his desk in his private quarters and marked the fourth year parchments piled in front of him. The pile seemed nearly endless, and he swore he was going to have to assign extra homework because some of the essays in front of him were abysmal. If he had to give another Troll, he might actually lose any of the chill he'd acquired in his years as a professor. He set his quill down and wandered into his kitchen, busying himself with tea making in an effort to clear his mind of the whiskey-coloured eyes that seemed determined to haunt his every moment.
Hermione paced around the tiny dining area in her quarters, twirling a loose curl around her finger as she muttered to herself. Between keeping her feelings for a certain Marauder turned professor in check and trying to keep her classes running smoothly, Hermione slowly felt like she was losing her sanity.
From the moment she'd stepped back into Hogwarts the night of the welcome feast and laid eyes on James Potter, she knew she was doomed. He'd always been handsome, and she and Ginny had joked time and again growing up that if they could land any of the Marauders, James was at the top of the list, but he'd always been off-limits. He was good looking, a fantastic father to Harry and had spent his life trying to make sure Harry had a childhood despite the loss of his wife and the traitorous turn of his former friend, but he was also Harry's dad, and that meant Hermione tried her hardest to ignore the crush she'd developed as a teenager.
Even with Harry having turned out to be a Horcrux, James had stayed the course and helped the Order destroy the Horcruxes along the way and still found time to keep spirits high among the ranks. She should have known she was destined to actually fall for James when she'd sat across the table during an Order meeting as James mapped out assignments and potential Death Easter locations and had to physically clench her thighs together to ease the ache in her core. She'd hoped that moving to Salem would have helped her move on, let her get past her silly crush on a man who would never see her as more than Harry's best friend. Now that she was around the elder Potter all the time though? Hermione was fully aware the childhood crush she'd harboured for James Potter was back with a vengeance, and she was doomed.
Sure, she tried to be normal around him and treat him like any other colleague who happened to be the father of her best friend and not the man she was in love with, but any time she was forced to sit next to him in staff meetings, or she'd run into him in the hall as they made their way to classes, she was violently reminded of just how attracted she was to the former Auror. On the bright side, she was pretty sure she'd done a solid job of convincing those around her that her feelings were strictly platonic when it came to James if Professor Vector trying to set Hermione up with her oldest grandson was any indication.
She flopped into a chair and let her head fall to the dining table, curls fanned out around her head as she gently knocked her head back and forth, the quiet thuds filling the room. Her dreams had been filled lately with nothing but hazel eyes and messy hair, and she didn't know how much longer she was going to be able to last.
It didn't help that her next lesson in History of Magic was over the first wizarding war, and she wanted nothing more than to ask James if he wanted to guest teach her lessons. She knew she was more than capable of teaching about it, but if she could use James' experiences? And sure, maybe it was a way to spend more time with him, but she had to actually work up the courage to go and approach him.
Lifting her head from the table, she flicked her wrist and let her wand drop from the holster and into her hand, casting a quick tempus charm. It was only nine, which really was still early enough to drop by James' quarters to speak with him. Gathering herself, she stood and made her way out of her quarters and out into the hallway.
If she remembered correctly, James was closer to Gryffindor Tower as Head of House next to a painting of Joan of Arc, not that most of the students knew that, but she'd found it rather easy. It was actually getting herself to knock that she found difficult, her hand hovering in front of the door for far longer than she cared to admit before she steeled her nerves and pulled on her Gryffindor courage. She was Hermione Granger; she could talk to a colleague in his chambers and be completely normal about it.
She took a breath and knocked, waiting just a moment before the door opened and her eyes met James'.
"Hermione? Is everything alright?" James ran a hand through his hair, reminding Hermione just where Harry had gotten his habit from, and she had to resist the urge to fix it like she'd do for her best friend.
Giving him what she hoped was an easy smile, she nodded. "Absolutely. Of course! I just was hoping to run an idea past you and couldn't wait."
Stepping aside, he gestured her in and pushed the door shut behind her as she stepped into his quarters. Glancing around, Hermione took in the homey feel, eying the pictures on the wall of Harry through the years and letting her fingertips trail over a picture of James, Sirius, and Remus before she turned back to face James.
He waved a hand towards the couch and grinned. "Have a seat, and I'll make some tea. Teaspoon of honey and a splash of milk, right?"
She felt her stomach clench at the realisation he still remembered how she took her tea and nodded before letting herself sink onto the couch, thankful for the fire that she could attribute her undoubtedly pink cheeks to.
When James sat down on the couch next to her and passed her a teacup, she smiled softly. "Thank you for the tea. And for letting me barge into your quarters this late at night."
James waved her off with a chuckle, "You're fine. I told you my door was always open if you needed anything at all." He'd be lying if he didn't say he hadn't been hoping she'd pop by at some point, but now that she was actually in his living room, looking nothing short of delectable in her loose robes over the fitted dress she'd worn to dinner. He smacked himself mentally, Get it together, James. She came to you for help, not for you to drool all over her .
"What did you want to run past me?" He tried to ignore her dress creeping up her thighs as she shifted, her thigh resting against his as she turned to look at him.
"Well, this week I'm covering the first wizarding war, and I know I could teach it by myself and be just fine, but I was kind of hoping that you might be up for some guest lecturing?" She played with the hem of her dress as she chewed on her bottom lip, and he had to fight the urge to use his thumb to pull it from between her teeth. It took him a moment to process what she'd asked, and he set his teacup down on the side table, the china clinking lightly.
"Hermione, I…" He trailed off and ran a hand through his hair and down the back of his neck with a deep sigh. "I don't normally like to talk about the things that happened. I know that I've got such a personal experience, but that's what makes it hard. I lost so much in both wars, but losing Lily? Finding out about Peter? It still feels like yesterday sometimes that everything happened."
Uncurling her fingers from her hem, Hermione's hand came to rest on James' thigh, and she squeezed lightly. "I understand, and if you say no, I'll understand that too. I just thought it might be something that would give the students a new perspective that wasn't just books and me lecturing. I can talk about everything that happened when it was Harry, Ron and I, but I didn't lose as much as you. My friends are still here. If it's too much, I get that."
At the earnest look in her eyes, James wanted nothing more than to close the gap between them and tangle his fingers in her hair, but instead he patted her hand and shook his head to clear his thoughts. He wandlessly and wordlessly summoned a bottle of firewhisky and poured a healthy amount into his tea glass before offering the bottle to Hermione. At her nod, he poured a splash into her tea and smiled slightly. "Most days, everything feels like a distant memory. I know that it happened to me, but I guess I've come to terms with everything. And some days, it hits me that I did suffer a lot of tragedy, and I just, I don't know."
He took a healthy swig of his tea and relished in the burn as it slid down his throat, trying to ignore the heat from Hermione's hand that still rested on his thigh.
"If you want to think about it, the lesson isn't until next week and if you say no, I won't be upset." He watched her eyes darken and felt her thigh press against him tighter. "However, the lesson isn't the only reason I wanted to come and see you."
Before he realised what was happening, she'd banished both of their tea cups to the kitchen table and closed the gap between them, her lips on his as his hands came up to her face, one cupping her cheek and the other tangling in her hair. He ran his tongue along the seam of her lips, swallowing her gasp as her lips parted, drinking in the sounds of her breath hitches as his fingers tightened in her hair.
Until his brain caught up with his lower appendage, and he pulled back, standing up quickly. "Hermione, we can't. You're twenty years my junior and my son's best friend. As much as I want this, want you. We can't."
A little breathless, lips swollen, Hermione sighed and tugged at a tangled curl before leaning forward to prop her hands on her knees, giving James a tantalizing view of her cleavage. "But you do want me? So why can't we? If it's my age, officially a year older than Harry. Nearly two if we take into account my Time Turner usage, so really it's only about eighteen years. Besides, Sirius didn't have any issues with my age and sure, that might not be the best example because it's Sirius, and he's never well... serious and also pointing out that Sirius and I hooked up might not be the best in this exact moment but still."
Hermione stood and crossed the small distance between them, leaving enough space to be chaste, but James was well aware of the rise and fall of her chest, and he wondered if fighting his feelings was actually worth it. Especially now that he knew what he was feeling wasn't one-sided. He could continue to fight it, but he didn't think he wanted to. He wanted the spitfire of a witch in front of him and the age difference be damned; he wasn't going to deny himself anymore.
He could see her eyes losing their light in the split second it took for him to make a decision, so he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her flush against his body, her delicate curves against his angled planes. Using her gasp of surprise as his chance to fit his lips over hers, he slipped his tongue in to explore, the breathy moans spurring him on as he felt her fingers trail up his arm to tangle in his hair, tightening as his free hand pushed her robes off her shoulders.
Unwilling to break their kiss, his hand found her zipper and worked it down, the dress slipping down as Hermione let go of his hair and helped him, leaving her dress pooled around her sensible heels. When he took in the sight of the lacy purple lingerie that hugged her curves, he pulled back with a groan and slipped a hand to the front of his trousers, brazenly adjusting the bulge that pushed against his zipper.
"Bloody hell, witch. Are you trying to kill me?" He let his fingers trail across the swell of her breasts before coming up to caress her cheek. He bit back a grin as she nuzzled into his palm and let his free hand trail up and down her rib cage, delighting in the goosebumps that followed in the wake of his fingers.
Hermione snorted and rolled her eyes, raising an eyebrow as she stepped out of her dress and kicked off her heels, leaving her quite a few inches shorter than James. Her head tilted up to watch him, the fire dancing in her eyes, "If it makes you feel any better, I've been wearing this all day: I didn't do it just for you."
He groaned and dipped a finger beneath the waistband of her panties. "No, that doesn't help me. Knowing you wear things like that under your professor robes? I'll never be able to look at you without wondering what you've got on."
Stepping closer, she let her breasts rub up against his clothed chest with a smirk, "Play your cards right, and you might be able to find out more often, Professor Potter."
He inhaled deeply before letting it out slowly as he wrapped his arms underneath Hermione's arse, her legs coming up to wrap around his waist, causing him to let out a groan of pleasure as her core rubbed against his erection. "Sweet merciful Merlin, you are going to be the death of me."
Hermione shifted her hips to grind against him and leaned forward to nip his bottom lip. "Take me to bed, James."
James let out a low chuckle and tightened his hold, manoeuvring them through the living room, waving a hand to open the door to his bedchamber before letting it fall closed behind them. He made his way towards the bed until his knees connected with the mattress, and he lay Hermione down gently, relishing in the way her hair fanned out around her. The sliver of moonlight falling across his bed cast a light halo around her, and he swore he had an angel in his bed.
"You're wearing far too many clothes, Potter." An angel with a devious streak apparently, but he complied and toed his shoes off before he slowly began to unbutton his shirt, loving the way Hermione squirmed under his gaze. Letting the shirt fall from his shoulders to the floor, he moved his hand to his belt and undid the buckle with ease before flicking the button open and tugging the zipper down.
He paused, letting his eyes trail up Hermione's form, taking in the dark green polish on her toe nails before skimming along her thick thighs and delectably wide hips. He knelt with one knee on the bed, trailing his fingers up her stomach before tugging her up by the arm gently. Unclasping her bra, he pushed it down before tossing it onto the floor. Her nipples pebbled against the chill air in the room, and he searched her eyes for permission. Realising what he wanted, she nodded and lifted her arms above her head, pushing her chest towards him.
Leaning forward to take a pretty brown nipple in his mouth, he used his free hand to push his trousers off the rest of the way, leaving their underwear the only thing between the two of them. Her fingers tangled in the pillowcase as he bit her gently before using his tongue to soothe the spot, his free hand tweaking the other nipple causing her to let out a moan. James was fairly certain there was no better sight than Hermione spread out underneath him, flushed and on the verge of needy, but he knew he'd happily spend the rest of his life trying to find something that lived up to this moment, so long as it was with her.
She looked so good with her head thrown back against his pillows that he couldn't resist the urge to capture her lips as his fingers toyed with the edge of her panties, his fingers dipping below the band to caress her lower lips. He rubbed a finger along her wet folds before sinking the finger in and pumping it a few times. Hermione let out a gasp beneath him and tightened her grip on the pillow so he removed his finger and slipped down her body, hovering over her.
Tugging off her underwear, he slipped it down her legs, letting it join the rest of their clothes on the floor before he positioned his face above the trimmed curls. "Gods, you smell so sweet. Do you taste as sweet too, witch?" He took her shaky intake of breath as an answer and dipped into her centre before licking up to her clit with the flat of his tongue. She definitely tasted as sweet as he'd imagined, and he lapped at her juices, taking the time to tease her clit as she tensed around his head. Inserting a finger and pumping it in and out slowly, he felt her hand tangle in his hair.
A second finger followed, and he curled them upwards to rub against the spongy spot on her inner wall the same moment he sucked her clit, causing Hermione to let out an obscene moan. He smiled against her and swirled his tongue around as he felt her tense up again before her fingers tightened to an almost painful grip and her moans increased as she crested. He continued using his fingers to fuck her as he helped her ride out the wave of her orgasm, her legs twitching as they fell open.
He pulled his fingers free and gave her one last long lick, enjoying the way she shivered from the sensitivity. James made eye contact with her as he placed his fingers in his mouth and swirled his tongue, cleaning his fingers of her wetness. He let out an unmanly yelp as Hermione hooked a leg around his waist and used the momentum to pull him forward, causing him to catch himself on his elbows so as not to crush her.
As she ran a hand up the length of him, still trapped in his pants, he sucked in a breath. As her fingers circled him, he felt himself twitch in her hand, and he leaned forward to capture her lips in a searing kiss. Whatever reservations he'd had before had gone up in Fiendfyre, and James knew that once he'd had her, there was no way he'd be able to go back to just being colleagues and pseudo friends. He wanted to have more than just a fling because while he was no stranger to a fling, Hermione Granger deserved more than that, and he wanted to be the one to give it to her.
Pulling back, he balanced on one forearm, his lower body resting between her legs as he searched her eyes. "James Potter, I have wanted nothing more than to have you all to myself, so please don't think that I will wake up tomorrow with regrets. I want you, all of you, and not just looking like a Merlin damned Adonis between my thighs. I want to grade papers with you and go on dates with you and have a life with you if you'll let me. You've had my heart for longer than I care to admit. All you have to do is make me yours."
He felt cold air hit his erection as she cheekily vanished his pants, and he raised an eyebrow. "I was getting impatient. I want you inside me, please ." The last word came out as a breathy plea, and he grinned at the neediness.
He rubbed the mushroom head against her folds to make him slick before slotting himself against her entrance. "When you ask so prettily, how can I say no?" In one quick movement, he'd sheathed himself to the hilt, and he groaned as she clenched around him. "I want you to come once more before me, but it's been a while, and if you clench like that, I'm going to embarrass myself like I'm a fourth year all over again."
She let out a giggle that turned into a moan as he started to pump slowly, stopping before he'd popped out completely and then entering her again just as slow. "One day you'll have to tell me all about i-" Her words faltered as James picked up the pace, and she tightened the leg around his waist, drawing him in deeper, causing James movements to stutter. This witch truly was going to ruin him, and he couldn't find it anywhere within him to care. He did know quite intimately that he wasn't going to last long, so he snaked a hand in between them, letting his fingers pluck and tweak her clit as he picked up speed, his hips slamming into hers and his balls bouncing against her arse. "Fuck, James, just like that. Don't stop, please."
He felt her tighten around him, her walls squeezing him, and as she crested once more, she took him over the edge with her. He stilled, his fingers tangling in hers against the pillow as she milked him dry. When he'd emptied himself inside her completely, he caught himself as he almost dropped on top of her, instead letting himself fall half onto her, half onto the bed as his softening cock slipped from her cunt.
Pulling their tangled fingers to his lips, he feathered his lips against her knuckles before wiping away a few strands of hair that were stuck to her forehead. Kissing her deeply, he let out a content sigh. "That was incredible. For months I've been imagining what you'd look like splayed out on my bed, and I can say, it doesn't touch how satisfying the reality actually is."
Waving her hand over them, James felt the wordless cleaning spell wash over him. He pulled her closer to him, enjoying the feel of her body pressed against his. She glanced up at him, her fingers combing through his hair as she smiled softly. "I meant every word I said, so whatever you decide, just know I'm in it completely. The fact that the sex is fantastic is just an added bonus."
He chuckled and leaned into her touch as she continued her ministrations. "While I still feel hesitant because of the age difference, and I don't want you to go through a repeat of the Rita Skeeter drama from the Tournament, I'd be an idiot if I let that stand in the way of something that could be really fucking good. From the moment you sat down at the staff table in Great Hall, I knew I wasn't going to be able to ignore this and knowing that you've felt the same way? I want this with you, Mi. We can figure out what to tell Harry later, and yes, talking about my son while we're naked in bed is definitely weird, and I don't want to make it a habit but regardless. I haven't felt this happy in years, and I don't want to let that go. Even if it's selfish of me to want you all to myself."
He summoned a blanket from the wardrobe and resisted the urge to grin as Hermione snuggled into his side further. "So we're doing this then?"
James nodded and pressed a kiss to her forehead as she let out a yawn. "Yeah, we're doing this." Extinguishing the lights, he tucked her head under his chin and closed his eyes, before a thought occurred to him, his eyes snapping open. "Wait, what did you mean earlier when you said Sirius didn't have any issues with your age?"
He felt her giggle against his chest, her hand tracing patterns against his skin. "Before I moved to America, Ron and I had that big row and decided we shouldn't make a go of whatever relationship we were trying for? Well, Sirius happened upon me in the Black library, and one thing led to another. It only happened once more before I moved, but both of us knew it was never going to be more than that. Sirius has no desire to settle down, and I was off on the next great adventure and wasn't ready for more either."
"That explains the pep talk he gave me where he talked about you no longer being the girl we'd watched grow up. I'm sure he and Moony have a bet going on how long it would take me to own up to my feelings."
"Those two would bet on anything if given the chance, I'm fairly certain of that," Hermione said with a giggle.
"True." James tightened his arms around Hermione and breathed in the scent of her shampoo without feeling like he was doing something wrong for the first time. "Mi?"
Her sleepy voice spoke through a yawn, "Yes, James?"
"I'll help you teach your class."