prompt: "Stop moving and let me braid your hair."
word count:2,652
rating: pg
tags: marauders era; same age

James watched from his perch on a well-worn armchair, legs dangling over the side, cheek propped against an upturned fist. "Do you think I should grow my hair out?"

Remus looked up from where he was sitting on the floor, back pressed against the chair, a book propped open in his lap. He followed James' longing stare to its usual recipient.

Hermione was seated on the edge of the couch, glowering down at Sirius, whose shoulders were resting against her as he played a game of Wizard's chess with Peter.

"Stop moving and let me braid your hair," she grumbled. "This was your idea!"

He tipped his head to see her and smirked. "Only because you said I couldn't pull off pig tails."

"I stand by what I said, but it's difficult to prove a theory when you won't stay still."

"it's not my fault Pete's cheating."

"Oi! I'm not cheating," Peter cried. "I'm just better at chess than you are."

"You're sneakier," Sirius scoffed. He returned his attention to the chess board, one hand stroking over his chin.

Hermione restarted the braid, choosing to start higher and create a French braid. She tipped Sirius' head for better access, rolling her eyes when he mumbled a complaint.

"Doesn't exactly look fun, does it?" Remus mused.

"Could be, under the right circumstances." James watched Hermione's fingers card through Sirius' hair, her brow furrowed with concentration. He'd give his last galleon to be in his best mate's place right about now.

"If you want her to play with your hair, just ask her." Remus grinned to himself. "I don't think she'll turn you down."

"Shouldn't I come up with a reason?"

Sighing, Remus flipped a page, and then called out, "Think James has enough hair to go next?"

Hermione looked up, eyeing James over Remus' shoulder.

He flushed under her scrutiny but was prepared to blame it on the heat coming off the fireplace. Puffing his chest out, he grinned at her. "I won't give you half the hassle."

She snorted, unconvinced. "I know you well enough to assume you'll give me twice the hassle given half the chance."

He laughed under his breath and, before he could give it much thought, flipped his legs over Remus' head to stand. He crossed the floor and took a seat on the sofa next to her, close enough their hips were pressed together. "We could always switch places and I could braid your hair."

"You sound entirely too confident. My hair's not exactly cooperative."

James' gaze bounced up to her bushy curls, pulled into a ponytail, her hairband struggling to hold it all together. "Won't know 'til I try."

Hermione hummed. "Your fingers will cramp before you finish."

His smile widened. "I promise you, my fingers are up to the task."

A pretty pink blush suffused her face and she flicked Sirius' ear when she heard him let out a barking laugh. "Shut up."

Sirius ducked out of her reach, rolling across the floor, his hair only partially braided and looking, frankly, terrible. But he merely stretched himself out on the floor, smirking back at her. "Go on then, Granger. Let Prongs' talented fingers have their way with you."

She threw a pillow at his face, but he batted it away easily.

"Always so aggressive," Sirius bemoaned.

"Only when you deserve it." Hermione shifted in her seat, pulling one leg up beneath her and gnawing her lip. Her gaze glanced from Sirius to James, suddenly looking uncertain and nervous.

"Come on," James cajoled. "If I'm terrible at it, you can make fun of me later."

She rolled her eyes. "You won't be the one who has to detangle it."

"If I mess it up too badly, I'll unmess it too." James shrugged. "My hair isn't any less wild."

"Yes, but you make yours look good." She pursed her mouth as if it had betrayed her.

James sat a little taller, flooded with confidence. "I happen to like your hair."

Hermione eyed him, as if searching for some sign of deception. But there was none to be found. James was being sincere. Her hair was absolutely wild and seemed to have zero interest in becoming anything else. But it was also quite fitting for her. Oh, Hermione tried very hard to be a rule-abiding, no-nonsense, swot, but he'd seen her when she let the veneer down. She could be ruthless and unrestrained and utterly inspired when she was mad enough. Like in second year, when she set Mulciber's robes on fire every time he so much as glanced in Mary MacDonald's direction. Or when Sirius wouldn't stop pestering her while she tried to study so she sent conjured birds to sing shrilly in his ears at the crack of dawn for three days straight (the length of time it took before he promised to never do it again). Or when she hexed Evan Rosier so that the word 'liar' would appear on his face anytime he tried to spread a rumor, whether it was true or not. Coincidentally, that was about the time he started spreading it around that Remus was a werewolf.

James could pinpoint the exact moment he realized he fancied Hermione Granger. It was fifth year…

Hermione Granger and Dorcas Meadowes came running into the common room, laughing and leaning on each other, flushed and out of breath. Last he'd seen them, they were on their way to the kitchens, planning to grab a few snacks before curfew. Sirius had unsuccessfully tried to convince them to bring him back food too.

When Sirius asked what happened, Hermione shook her head, but Dorcas proudly informed them, "Hermione here punched Lucius Malfoy."

When the Marauders leapt up to ask questions, lamenting that they weren't there to see it, Hermione had merely rolled her eyes, clearly embarrassed about her outburst. "He was being rude to the house elves," she defended.

"How dare he," Sirius mused, grinning.

Hermione crossed her arms. "Well, they couldn't tell him to leave them alone and he didn't take kindly to Dorcas telling him he was being rude."

"I called him a horse-faced plonker," Dorcas corrected.

"Same sentiment." Hermione cleared her throat and tugged nervously at her pullover. "Anyway, it was reckless. I can't imagine how many house points it'll cost us, or how many detentions he'll demand."

"I doubt it." Dorcas scoffed. "He'd have to admit a girl two years his junior broke his pretty nose."

"You broke it!?" Sirius cried, gripping James' shoulder. "And you couldn't invite us to the show?"

"I hardly planned it." Hermione frowned at him. "And I don't know if it was broken. It was certainly bleeding, but we ran back here before I could get a good look."

"What was he saying to the house elves?" Remus wondered.

Hermione's mouth twisted up. "Oh, it was awful. He was purposely telling them their cooking was terrible and they should all be fired. Some of them started burning themselves." Her mouth wobbled. "He just wanted them to hurt themselves. He tried to hit one of them with that cane of his. What kind of pretentious tosser even has a decorative cane at seventeen?"

James' grin widened. "Hermione Granger, saviour of house elves and breaker of noses."

Hermione raised her chin. "Is that judgement I'm hearing?"

He shook his head. "Pride, actually. Good on you. Any Malfoy I've ever met deserved a good head rattle."

Dorcas hung an arm around Hermione's shoulders and gave her a squeeze. "Let's just hope he learned a lesson."

"I highly doubt he'll be any kinder to house elves," Hermione lamented.

"No, but at least he'll know someone's willing to knock his block off." With that, Dorcas dragged Hermione off toward the dorms.

James stared after them, something warm unfurling in his chest.

She had a soft heart and a mean right hook. What else was James to do but fall head over arse for her? And then spend the next two years having no idea how to tell her. It was different to how he'd done things when he fancied Lily Evans in third and fourth year, where the bigger the declaration, the louder the rejection. Maybe he was a little wand-shy after being told repeatedly that he was a toe-rag unworthy of dating. To be fair, he had rather mercilessly pranked her best mate. Upon reflection, he could admit his tactics were… underdeveloped. Besides, he was pretty sure Hermione wouldn't respond well to public declarations of love. But James was built for being loud and proud, so subtlety often seemed more difficult.

"You get one opportunity." Hermione tugged the band off and let her hair down. "If, at any point, I think you're rearranging my hair into a bird's nest or pulling any sort of prank at all, I will retaliate, and you will regret it."

James perked up. "Deal."

Hermione hesitated a moment before shifting forward. "Do you want me to sit on the floor then?"

"Wherever you're comfortable. I'll adapt."

Chewing her lip, Hermione lowered herself down to the floor in the same spot Sirius had been and folded her hands in her lap.

James took a seat behind her, his knees on either side of her shoulders. Having no sisters might have hampered most at learning how to braid, but James had always been fond of braiding random bits of his mum's hair. Her long black hair reached down to her waist and despite what a mess he made of it, she used to tell him how much she loved the little braids he left randomly throughout. Hermione's hair was quite a bit different from his mum's; chestnut brown and much more untamed.

James started with just combing his fingers through it to untangle any knots. He could feel how tense Hermione was; her shoulders in a straight, stiff line as she anticipated some strange prank. But James had no intention of bungling this up. He wasn't completely sure what his intentions were aside from spending time with her.

Sirius and Peter had ventured over to a table, taking their chess board with them, and Remus had stolen the armchair, head buried in his book. So, it was just the two of them now.

Having no idea what to say, James instead focused on his combing. He ran his fingers through from one side of her head to the other, gently untangling any curls and knots he came across. Her hair was voluminous and unexpectedly soft. When he was absolutely sure it was as tangle free as it was going to get, he started at the top. It was Mipsy, his house elf, that taught him how to French braid. She didn't have much hair herself, but she used to braid skeins of yarn and clip them to what little hair she did have as a sort of hair extension. Her favourite was always the pink, and James made sure to compliment her whenever she wore it.

Slowly, as his fingers carefully parted Hermione's hair and began to braid it together, he felt her relax. Her head tipped forward and her shoulders sunk and he could hear the smooth, even sound of her breathing. There was a strange sense of intimacy to doing this, he realized. He couldn't imagine Hermione letting just anyone touch her hair, having heard enough people insult it over the years. But she let him, and he thought he should probably feel rather honored.

"Where'd you learn to braid?" she murmured softly.

"My mum let me braid her hair. Mipsy, our house elf, showed me how."

"Are you close with her?"

"My mum or Mipsy?" He paused. "Suppose the answer's the same for both. I'm an only child so my parents tended to dote on me. Or, as Remus likes to say, spoiled me rotten."

She laughed lightly. "I'm an only child too. But I don't think my parents had to worry about me causing much trouble. I spent a lot of time reading."

"Of course you did," he mused affectionately. "I bet you had a book in your hand the very first chance you got."

Hermione pulled her knees up and hugged them to her chest. "Books are much easier than people. Their only purpose is to be read. People can be so strange and fickle."

"You and Dorcas get on well."

"Dorcas took me under her wing first year. She's always been kind."

"That's what friends do, don't they?"

Hermione hummed. "She was my first friend ever. Some of the kids at my Muggle school were polite, even nice, but none of them were my friends."

"Mipsy was my first friend. My parents introduced me to other kids my age, all from good pureblood families, but a lot of them just didn't fit. And when your considered a blood traitor, people don't always want their kids around you."

"Good way to thin out the wrong sort," Hermione decided.

He smiled. "My parents thought so too."

"Are you still close with Mipsy?"

"She's like a second mum to me, but yeah. Mipsy's great." James was finishing off the braid now; it was thick and a few of her curls were trying desperately to spring free, but it was sturdy. "Hair band?"

"Oh!" Hermione rolled one off her wrist and passed it back over her shoulder.

Tying it off, he slid it over one shoulder and used the tail to tickle her cheek. "There. See?"

Hermione twisted at the waist, her back pressing against his knee as she looked up at him. "If it looks half as good as it feels, I might need to keep you around."

James gulped, his eyebrows arched faintly. "You can keep me any way you want."

A smile formed until she bit down on her bottom lip. "Was this whole hair braiding thing just an elaborate attempt to tell me you fancy me?"

His eyes narrowed. "Would it have worked if it was?"

Pushing up onto her knees, she knelt there, boldly between his legs. She tilted her head back to see him better, stubborn chin raised. "You're not very subtle."

"Never really found a reason to be."

"You tend to stare. Dorcas calls it 'ogling.'"

"Ogling implies a lack of respect," he argued. "I respectfully admire from afar."

"Sometimes you sigh when I look at you. It's very wistful."

"I've been called worse."

She laughed. "I didn't say it was a bad thing."

His gaze fell briefly before he admitted, "I don't have the best track record of telling girls I fancy them."

"I remember. Evans wasn't very subtle either." She ran a hand down her braid. "I like this approach of yours much better. I think I might've hexed you if you'd tried proposing to me in the Great Hall."

"I've seen your hexes and I'm glad I didn't." He stared at her searchingly. "Are you… Would you want to go to Hogsmeade with me?"

A beat passed and then another and James felt nervous in a way that made his stomach twist up in knots. It wasn't unlike a freefall when flying; fear mixed with anticipation.

"On one condition."

He perked up. "Anything."

Shaking her head, she said, "You really shouldn't give me, or anyone for that matter, that kind of control."

James shrugged. "I trust you."

"Well, I'll try to be worthy of that." She chewed her lip. "Anyway, my one request is that you do my hair before we go. Your braids are much tighter than mine. At least if you do it, it'll probably stay in place the whole time."

Romantic that he was, he could admit he was already daydreaming of them years in the future, when they'd both long gone silver, and his knobby fingers were the only ones to braid her wild hair. "I'd be happy to."

Hermione gave a quick nod. "Then it's a date."

The first of many.

author's note: you'll all be excited to know that i wrote a sequel to 'one minute,' and a chunk of a third part too. i plan to have the sequel out tomorrow! in the mean time, it thought i'd put out something sweet and fluffy to balance the angst of the previous prompt. :P

thanks so much for reading. please try to leave a review!
~ Lee | Fina