Happy Saturday lovelies!
This chapter is kind of crazy. I did have a lot of writing it though, so hopefully you all enjoy it x
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Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line and any OC's belong to me.
Sunday, March 27th, 1977
James Potter's Seventeenth Birthday
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
There was a buzzing noise vibrating in Hermione's ears, and her head was stuffed to the brim with coarse cotton. Blindly, her hand flailed around and she found an arm.
"Draco?" Hermione asked softly, and there was a low grunt in response. It took her a minute to muster enough energy to blearily peer over at her wizard beside her in the bed. "What the fuck happened last night?"
One of Draco's arms was draped over his eyes, and he hadn't budged an inch.
Hermione squinted at that, and rolled over onto her back. She quickly assessed the situation and realised she still had on the black dress she'd worn to James's party last night, though, her feet were bare. At least I had the wherewithal to remove my shoes before I climbed into…Draco's bed.
A jolt of electricity kick started her system and Hermione shot into an upright position, but she instantly felt dizzy and her head began to pound.
With one hand on her forehead, Hermione used the other one to part the curtains just enough to peek outside.
There was a rustling sound from across the room, and Hermione's eyes narrowed as a slender, mocha coloured leg appeared from the slightly parted curtains around James's four poster bed.
Is that? Hermione thought as another leg appeared, and she jerked back as soon as she caught sight of Kira's face.
Hermione scooted backwards until she was right beside Draco again. Hermione blinked blankly at the curtains as a distorted shadow passed by them, and she waited a few moments before she heard the dormitory door close with a soft click.
"What the—"
"What are you banging on about?" Draco grumbled, and he tugged her back down, immediately wrapping his body around hers.
"Draco!" Hermione said in a harsh whisper.
"Back to sleep," he replied groggily.
"Let go of me or I will bite you," Hermione threatened.
"Please do," Draco breathed hotly, and the smell washed over the side of her face. Alcohol. Firewhisky to be exact.
"Draco, let go," Hermione whinged, tapping incessantly on the bicep resting on her chest whilst she wiggled from side to side.
"Why?" Draco groaned, lifting up enough to meet her eye.
"Because I think our brother may have done something daft."
"Define daft. Something more harebrained than usual?" Draco drawled, reluctantly withdrawing his arm from her person, and he shifted onto his back.
"I think he shagged Kira. Go throw on some clothes, " Hermione said absently as she sat up, and before Draco could respond, she popped her head out of the curtains. Upon seeing that the coast was clear, she climbed out of the bed.
Hermione winced when the floorboards creaked slightly under her weight. She hastily examined her surroundings and surmised that the other lions were still slumbering away.
"Hermione," Draco hissed after her, but she waved a hand dismissively over her shoulder and crept across the room towards James's bed. The witch had to avoid several obstacles as she wove her way there as the boy's room was a disaster; clothes, bags, Quidditch equipment and other miscellaneous items were strewn all about.
Our room isn't the tidiest either right now, but this is just ridiculous, Hermione groaned mentally.
The curtains around James's bed were open just enough for Hermione to spot her brother—her completely nude brother. Thank Merlin that his sheets were protecting his modesty.
With a wry twist of her lips, Hermione leaned forward and poked one of his pale thighs. Which of course did not rouse the raven haired boy in the slightest.
Where is my wand? Hermione wondered, patting herself down and she moaned softly when she came up empty.
Fuck it, I'll find it later, Hermione thought. She was far too sore, and far too hungover to be bothered at the moment.
"Aguamenti," Hermione murmured, and frigid water gushed out of her fingertips, instantly soaking James.
A breath later, James Potter was flailing about with his hands raised to cover his face. Hermione stopped the spell and balled her hands into fists. James sat up, shocked, wide eyed and dripping wet.
"Put on some clothes and meet Draco and I in the room of requirement."
"What in Godric's name was that for, Hermione?" James sputtered out, shaking his head and sprinkling water droplets everywhere. The wizard was squinting fiercely at her; she imagined she was a massive blur to him since he was not wearing his glasses.
"Meet us in the room," Hermione ground out, flicking his upper arm before she turned on her heel and made for the exit.
Hermione's keen hearing caught Draco's muttering, and a squelching noise as James tried to get out of his sopping wet bed right before she slammed the door behind her.
James Potter's seventeenth birthday was not going anything like how he'd envisioned it. Firstly, Hermione woke him up with a bloody river that had soaked him to the bone. Secondly, his first coherent thought was that he was no longer a Virgin, and that he'd lost his virginity to Kira; which he never thought was a possibility.
Draco had been kind enough to grab some clothes for James and leave them in the boy's bathroom. One short sprint later, James had dried off and was tugging on a T-shirt and some sweatpants. In a daze James briefly rubbed a towel across his tresses, and played through the prior night's events in his mind.
James was still figuring out exactly what had transpired when he shortly found himself in front of the entrance to the Room of Requirement.
I need to find my siblings, James thought weakly. He knew he should have been more specific. Thankfully that meagre request was all the room needed to understand him, and a few moments later there was a simple oak door. Well, there were a few embellishments: a cast iron door knocker that was in the shape of a roaring lion, metal work that crawled up the length of the door, and intricate carvings on the door handle.
James sucked in a hefty sum of air, and exhaled gently—making a low whistling sound—and he gathered all of the courage and bravery that he proudly laid claim to. Maybe it won't be that bad, Hermione won't be that upset, James tried to reason internally as he twisted the door knob and stepped into the room.
Hermione was sitting cross-legged on a Queen sized bed (the only piece of furniture in the small room), and Draco was perched on it beside her, his hand on her cheek and tenderly stroking her face.
Hermione cocked her head to the side, and with a warm smile said, "wotcher, dear brother."
"Morning, Mione," James said warily as he entered the room. The door shut behind him. He flinched.
Hermione hopped off the bed, hair sparking, "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?"
James had grossly misjudged the situation, Hermione was livid.
It started with a blast of red and gold confetti. The sounds all hit him at once, and Prongs was in the back of his mind, ready to take flight.
Sirius appeared before James just as the last of the confetti hit the floor, and threw his arms around James's shoulders, all while handing him a cup filled to the brim with amber liquid that was spilling over the sides as it jostled about.
"Happy birthday, Potter!"
James remembered gold streamers, red balloons. James recalled the dim lights, the cheers, and off-key singing. Sirius disappeared at some point—not before shoving another shot of Firewhisky into James's hands—and not long after, Riley too was nowhere to be found.
James passed by Hermione who was downing Firewhisky straight from a bottle—Draco and Remus were right beside her, and it wasn't long before the witch was dancing with both wizards. Draco twirled her around in a circle, and laughing unabashedly she ended up in Remus's arms; the wizard fondly shook his head and Draco was chuckling softly (he was also quite inebriated it seemed).
Kira was there. She was smiling, but it didn't reach her eyes, and she was downing cup after cup of Firewhisky. In the six years of knowing her, James had never seen Kira sad.
He asked her if she was okay, he remembered that. She patted his cheek and smirked. Then they were dancing, bodies moving against each other's. Kira's arms were around his neck, and his hands were on her waist.
She was breathtaking. James's hands ended up in her wild curls, the dark curls that sprang uncontrollably in every direction. She was a fierce lioness with electric blue eyes, and warm skin that was dusted with bronze.
They were laughing, and Kira's hands were fisted in the fabric of his shirt on his chest. May bumped into them, and clapped James on the back and wished him happy birthday before striding off. James wanted to scold his underclassmen for being at the party, but that would be hypocrisy, so he refocused his attention on Kira.
The moment their eyes met, they both leaned forward, and they were kissing. Kira pressed herself up against James, and took charge. Gingerbread cookies wafted off of the girl and swirled into his nostrils.
They raced each other up the staircase to the boy's dormitories, giggling the whole way.
Then it slowed down. They crawled into James's bed, and helped each other divest themselves of their clothes.
"You sure about this?" James asked Kira breathily, and she nodded, lying back on the bed. Kira threw up locking, and silencing charms. He doesn't have time to study where her wand went, because her lips were on his again. It divulged into a mess of eager hands, bruising kisses, and giddy giggles.
She was beautiful.
It was beautiful.
It was Kira. It was Kira.
In the moment, none of that mattered. She was just a witch, and he a wizard.
It stung.
That is, James and Kira giggling with fervent gaiety as they vanished up the staircase to the boy's dormitories. At least now, she didn't have to watch them grinding on each other as the music swung ardently around the common room. (Sirius had provided his growing collection of vinyl that he'd been accumulating.)
Lily channelled the tightness in her chest in a constructive manner. That was the little white lie she told herself as she downed the rest of her butterbeer. The white lie she continued to tell herself as she sought out a fit, seventh year Ravenclaw that was in attendance of this grand celebration of one James Harry Potter.
They danced, and they snogged. They snogged a lot.
They were rudely interrupted, by Lysander Smith's excellent timing, as he practically careened into them. He was off his arse pissed—stumbling about and singing some old folk song with a couple of his mates. The seventh year politely excused himself, muttering something about teaching 'little boys a lesson about interrupting'.
It's a shame, Lily thought soberly, he was a good kisser.
Lily rubbed her temples as Smith tried to embrace his upperclassmen. This is a disaster, Lily mused.
In her peripherals she saw Alice and Frank in a corner, beaming at each other and conversing, their fingers interlaced. I want that, Lily thought, and suddenly she didn't wish to wait on the Ravenclaw to conclude his business with Smith. She wasn't in the mood to snog a wizard she didn't know.
Lily blew out a frustrated breath, and headed for the stairs to her dorm.
Lily kicked off her shoes and climbed into her bed. Lily pressed the heel of her palms against her eyelids.
She admitted something to herself in the dark. Something she had avoided for months. James Potter is an arrogant toerag...but, despite everything...I fancy him. I fancy James.
A weight lifted off of her shoulders, but its place she found a prickling sensation was rolling across her heart. Lily Evans was head over heels for James Potter, and it hurt.
"Seriously, James? What were you thinking?" Hermione asked softly, grasping James's face in between her hands.
Hermione had not hexed or physically attacked James like he originally thought she would.
"I wasn't?" James offered sheepishly.
"Clearly. Of all the girls, you shagged Kira? Kira?" Hermione asked, shaking James's head from side to side with a callous expression pinching her features together.
"Would it make it better if I said that she was magnificent?"
"I did not need that visual in my head," Hermione groaned, recoiling from James and removing her hands from his face, throwing her arms into the air, "if you'll excuse me I'm going to go scrub that image from my brain."
"It was a onetime thing," James said meekly, swallowing audibly and tiredly rubbing the side of his face. He was in desperate need of a Pepper-Up.
"Does Kira know that?" Draco asked. He had been uncharacteristically quiet this entire time, and he was still languidly lounging on the bed.
"...Yes," James said after a moment, brow furrowing. Truthfully, not many words were shared between them before they fell into bed together; much less a deeply engaging philosophical conversation. Either way, surely she knew that despite the fact that last night was magical, it was never going to happen again, right?
Draco quirked a brow at that, but didn't linger on his previous question, "more importantly, I thought Peter and Kira were dating."
Hermione quickly piped up with an answer, "no, not anymore. They went on a few dates, but Peter broke it off a couple weeks ago." Hermione was squatting in the furthermost corner, facing the wall with her head in her hands.
"What?" James's head snapped up; adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose.
"This is an absolute clusterfuck," Draco mumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"How did I not realise they were dating?" James asked himself aloud. "I am a shite friend."
"You aren't a shite friend," Hermione exhaled, glancing at him over her shoulder. "I'm the one who didn't notice Alice and Frank had broken up."
"None of us did," Draco said quietly.
James nodded silently in agreement. It was hard to picture the couple going through tough times. In his mind, Alice and Frank were a steady constant in and amongst the rocky sea of uncertainty that surrounded them. "They are back together now, which is all that matters."
Hermione stood up, still holding her head, "now I'm dizzy."
"You should come and lay down," Draco urged gently, frowning.
"At least I know that Kira's on the potion," Hermione declared errantly as she strolled towards the bed on wobbly legs.
"That was information I could have done without," Draco stated, picking at some fluff on his black pyjama pants.
"Hush. I'm exhausted and my head hurts," Hermione grumbled as she dragged herself onto the bed covered in a plum quilt with fine, white floral designs sewn into it.
"Agreed," Draco yawned, lifting his legs onto the bed, before he extended his body like a feline.
Hermione wormed her way over to her boyfriend, throwing a leg over him and laying her head on his chest. Draco dropped a kiss to her hairline.
"Okay, I'm shattered," James said, ruffling his hair as he headed over to the foot of the bed.
"Then why are you still talking? Get in the bed already," Draco asked, smacking his lips together, and his eyes fluttered shut.
James did just that. He settled himself in on Hermione's other side, and he threw his arm over her midsection.
"Hey, James," Hermione whispered.
"Yes, Mione?"
"I didn't get a chance to say it before—sorry about that by the way—but, happy birthday, little brother."
"Shove off, with that little brother stuff," James laughed lightly.
Hermione placed her hand over James's, and interlaced their fingers, "shhhh, Jamie. Go to sleep."
Thus began James Potter's eighteenth year, not with a spark or a fizzle, but with a bang.