January 1995

James woke up one morning and turned on his bed, feeling so deliciously warm and comfortable that he hummed a sigh and smiled against his pillow; being home always filled him with peace and contentment. Nothing was better than being home, in the room he shared with his brother, looking forward to Tiffany's amazing food and a great day out with friends.

He knew all of that would soon change, be it for the war or the completion of his studies at Durmstrang.

"Just one more year in school," he heard Nick say, realising then that his brother had probably caught glimpses of his musings.

"Yeah. Just one more," James repeated, crossing his arms behind his back and staring at the ceiling above his bed, "What do you reckon you will do afterwards?"

"Study Charms. I want to become a Charms Master," said Nicholas, with certainty, "And you?"

"Probably a Potions Master, like dad."

Neither of them spoke for nearly a minute, both feeling a heavy weight of apprehension in their chest as they reached the same conclusion – and Nicholas was the one who voiced it: "So I guess we'll be going to different places then."

James silently nodded, frowning. It was hard to imagine life away from his twin brother, they were used to always having the other around. It wouldn't be easy to not have him. Maybe he could consider studying Charms as well – he liked it just as much as Potions after all.

"We'll be fine, Jamie. We've spent whole days away from each other already," Nick tried to reassure him.

"Yeah, of course. It'll actually be a blessing to not have to look at your ugly mug every day," James joked.

"Right," Nick snorted, "There won't be mirrors at the Potions School, then," he sat up and yawned, his eyes falling on something on his brother's nightstand, "Look, you got a letter."

James sat up quickly and smiled as he recognised the wax seal.

"Flourish and Blotts?" asked Nick, recognising the logo on the envelope, "What book have you ordered?"

"Not a book," James ripped the seal and unfolded the letter, "Since I saw on the paper that Dumb-Krum took Hermione Granger to the Yule Ball, I feel like I need to see her again."

Nicholas shook his head, "She's just fourteen, mate. I'm well aware of the things you like... she'd run away screaming before you ever have the chance to explain what a 'flogging' is."

"I'm just taking her out for tea, Nick. I want to make her see Dumb-Krum is not the man for her."

"And you are?" Nicholas asked skeptically.

James put the open letter on his nightstand and got out of bed, "I just want to talk to her... watch her skin flush as I stare at her, imagine how far down her neck that blush goes."

Nicholas grimaced, "And you say mum and dad are gross; I already know enough about your sex-life, mate."

James chuckled and got dressed, continuing: "Granger is too... precious to be wasting her time with that wanker."

"And you think you're just what she needs?" Nick added, smirking, "How humble."

James narrowed his eyes at his brother, refusing to admit he was being presumptious, "Whatever. I just feel that I need to talk to her, see her again," he put on his dragonhide boots, "Anyway, mum and dad are always saying Granger is a bookworm, so I bribed the owner of the Diagon's bookshop to let me know when she would be there. And it paid off. He just wrote to tell me she will be there picking up three books this morning," James fixed his hair in the ensuite bathroom and picked up his coat, "I'll take her for breakfast at the tea house in front of the bookstore."

"Good luck," Nick nodded, "I'll tell mum and dad you went to the bookshop to browse some books for us."

"Thanks for covering for me, Nick."


Flourish & Blotts

James stood in a corner of the bookshop, waiting for Hermione to show up; he had already paid for her purchases, the books: The Alchemist's Secrets, Divine Consciousness and A Declining Society.

Two books on Alchemy and one about politics.

And even though James already knew Miss Granger had a thirst for learning that wasn't exclusive to one or two subjects alone, he was still impressed.

"You have your eye in a strange little witch, Mr Peverell," commented Mr Blotts, one of the shop owners, "A curious muggleborn that one is."

James narrowed his eyes at the man, seeing right through his words: Blotts was warning him of her blood status.

"I'm well-aware of Miss Granger's brilliance, Mr Blotts - and of her blood status."

The man shrugged, "I'm just saying-"

"You were just saying," James interrupted the man in the same disapproving drawl of his father's, "You know, Mr Blotts, Miss Granger's status makes her even more desirable in my eyes."

"But your family-"

"Ah, yes," James continued sardonically, "You heard I carry an ancient Sacred name and decided to warn me."

The man didn't deny it.

James shook his head, "I'll let Miss Granger know to find another bookstore, I'm sure there are plenty willing to have such a client as her," he saw the man open his mouth to speak but he didn't let him: "What time does she usually arrive?"

Mr Blotts let out a regretful sigh and replied: "She never lets her books sit here for more than a couple of hours."

"I'll wait," said James, going to one of the armchairs by the fireplace and sitting down with a copy of one of the books she had purchased.


After nearly an hour, James saw her walk into the store: the brown curls tied up in a low bun, showing the pretty pearl earrings on her ears. She wore no make-up, but seemed to have pink lipstick on. A long dark purple trench-coat covered her delicate frame, looking a little too light for that cold winter day.

He watched her go to the cashier and the man gave her the books, letting her know they had already been paid for.

"But how?" he heard her exclaim, "My parents gave me the money to-"

James noticed how Mr Blotts seemed uncomfortable by her presence.

"A gentleman has already paid for them, Miss," said Blotts.

"But who did it?" she demanded to know.

James decided to intervene, that prejudiced man didn't deserve to have her gracing his store; he approached her from behind and whispered in her ear: "Using a Heating Charm, Miss Granger?"

She startled and quickly spun around to face him, his sexy voice taking her by surprise, making her shiver.

"You paid for my books?" she asked in a higher voice than usual, blushing as his dark eyes looked intently at her.

"Yes. I came to the Alley to have some breakfast at Madam Asterope's Tea House across the street and then decided to stop by the bookshop," James explained, lying very convincingly, "Then I saw your name on a package by the cashier and paid for them; as a gesture of friendship, if you'll have it."

"You don't think I'll actually believe that, do you?" she eyed him up and down, trying to control her racing heart as she stood near the charming young wizard in front of her; James was wearing jeans and a dark blue jumper with a white turtle neck underneath it, his long dark hair was a little wavier than his father's, giving him a rebel vibe – as if he didn't even bother fixing his hair, it woke up a little wild that morning and he knew it looked good.

"So beautiful and yet so distrustful, Miss Granger," he smiled.

She narrowed her eyes, her obvious interest in him and apparent lack of control whenever he was around, angering her, "I'm used to not trusting Slytherins."

James laughed, "But I don't even study at Hogwarts."

She scoffed, "That's just a detail," then she add in a whisper: "I know who your parents are."

"Do you now?" he leaned towards her, whispering in her ear again, "Well, so let me tell you that the only thing sexier than two Slytherins, is a Slytherin with a Gryffindor."

Hermione gulped, fighting to control her responses to his presence and words – and his voice! Why does it have to be so sexy?

James stopped himself from closing the gap between them, "Bloody hell, I have to remind myself you're just fourteen," he inhaled sharply and said: "Have breakfast with me."

"Are you asking or ordering?" she frowned.

He raised his hands, "Asking, Miss Granger. Certainly asking."

She crossed her arms, "I've already eaten."

"But I haven't," he said, "And I'm close to fainting, I'm so hungry," he dramatically added, looking down at her lips and groaning, "Dammit, Hermione. Actually, perhaps it's best if you just go."

She studied him for a moment; James was dangerous, some warning bells rang in her head whenever he was around – but Gryffindors never ran away from danger - they ran towards it. So she nodded, "Alright, I'll join you for breakfast."

James smiled and summoned his coat from the armchair he had been sitting before, picked up her books for her, and offered her his other arm. She accepted it and they walked out of the bookshop, crossing the street towards the fancy Madam Asterope's Tea House.


Hermione watched James closely as they sat at a small table for two inside the beautiful tea house.

"Mr Peverell!" a gorgeous older woman greeted him excitedly, "What a pleasure seeing you here."

"Madam Asterope," he stood up, taking the woman's hand and kissing it, "Looking lovely this morning."

"Aren't you a seducer, James!" she shook her head and looked at Hermione, "You better watch out, my dear. This one is as dangerous as he's charming."

"You flatter me, Madam," James affectedly said, touching his chest as he sat back down.

"Good to know," Hermione said, "Thank you, Madam Asterope. But I'm just an acquaintance."

"Good for you, dear," and the woman handed them two menus, "You know how to order, James. Call me if you need anything," she winked at him.

He smiled at the older woman and then looked at Hermione, "So you're not even my friend?"

"Friend?" she snorted, a bit annoyed by the too friendly interaction between him and that woman, "Is friendship what you want?"

"No," he honestly replied, smiling, "But you're too young for what I want."

She felt the heat rising in her body but did her best to ignore it, looking at the menu, "There are no prices here."

"Haven't you been here before?"

She shook her head.

He explained: "Madam Asterope is of the mind that if you have to ask, you probably can't afford. But don't worry about it. Order whatever you want."

Hermione knew arguing with him wouldn't accomplish anything, so she touched her wand to a cup of tea and a small chocolate-filled pastry, putting the menu on the table and staring at him.

"Why are you here?"

"The truth?" he asked after placing his order as well.

"If you'll really stick to it," she replied.

He rested both arms on the table, clasping his hands together, "I bribed Mr Blotts to tell me when you'd be at the store," his dark eyes staring intently at her, "By the way, you should start buying your books elsewhere. Blotts is a blood purist."

Hermione was surprised by that, but recalled a few times she had felt uncomfortable in the shop, "Alright, and can you suggest me a good store where I should get my books from now on?"

"Magical Reads, in Hogsmeade. They aren't prejucided berks and can get you any book you want; and they deliver to Hogwarts."

"And when I'm not at Hogwarts?"

"I'll get them and bring them to you," he smirked and winked at her.

She paused at his words, "Why?" she frowned, feeling equal parts concerned and flattered by his actions, "Why did you ask him to tell you when I'd be at the shop?"

James let out a soft sigh, choosing to say the truth: "I wanted to talk to you, Granger. Get to know you. At the Cup you ran from me."

"Well, it's like you said: I'm just fourteen, too young for you," she told him, although her mind reminded her she'd gone to a Ball a couple of weeks ago with a boy as old as he and she had done a little more than just dancing with him.

As if sensing her thoughts, James asked: "How was the Yule Ball?" his eyes narrowing slightly in disapproval.

Right at that moment, a medium-sized silver tray with their orders landed softly on their table and Hermione added two sugars to her tea cup.

"The Ball was amazing," she smiled, and the way her amber eyes sparkled in happiness had James pressing his lips in a thin line.

"In fact, I went with a classmate of yours," she stirred her tea and brought the spoon to her lips.

James stopped cutting his toast topped with sausages and eggs and looked at her, his eyes fixed on her mouth as she briefly closed her lips around the spoon after adding sugar to her tea.

Fourteen, James. He thought to himself. She's just fourteen, you pervert.

"Do you know Viktor?" she continued, a little unnerved by his silence.

"Yes," he answered in a deeper voice that shook her – and her little trembling didn't go unnoticed by him, he saw her eyes rest on his lips for a moment and he smirked, resuming cutting his toast, "I saw a picture of you and him on the paper. But Dumb-Krum is one year older, not really a classmate. Otherwise I'd have been the Durmstrang Champion – if I were seventeen."

"Oh, really?" Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, "You'd have been the Champion? I wonder how strong your neck is to keep that big-head of yours upright," she retorted, "And Viktor is not dumb. He's-"

"Half-troll?" James offered, not liking to hear her calling the other man by his first name when she had yet to say his.

"What?" she exclaimed, "No!"

"As slow as liquorice wands in the summer?"

"No!" she pursed her lips, trying not to smile.

"As dull as watching a marbles match?"

"Can you stop it?" she rolled her eyes, "How do you even know what marbles are?"

"Boring version of Gobstones, which my grandma plays," he quickly explained, "Back to Dumb-Krum-"

"Not dumb," she added, "He's just quiet..."

"Hm, so maybe he is too affected by your beauty to be able to form coherent sentences?" he paused, arching an eyebrow, "Now, that I could believe."

Hermione stared at him, speechless for perhaps the first time in her life.

But she slowly shook her head; knowing who he was, she was certain she'd never have a chance with him. Plus, she wasn't really thinking about boys. Yes, Krum had been a nice distraction for a few days, but she had bigger plans, she didn't need – nor want – a boyfriend.

"What are you doing here?" she asked again, after a while.

James found her question strange, "I already told you-"

"Yes. But why me?"

He sipped his coffee before replying: "You blushed so beautifully as you look at methat night at the World Cup. But then you ran. You were clearly interested, but you ran."

"So what? No one runs from you?" she added sarcastically.

He shrugged, "I admit it had never happened before the Cup, no. And now I can't stop thinking of you and your blushing cheeks."

She smiled conceitedly, his words definitely boosting her ego, "Aren't you in for a ride, then? Because whatever you're trying to accomplish by stalking me? It is not happening. I'm seeing Viktor. And I enjoy his company."

"Really?" James snorted, "Dumb-Krum can keep a conversation with you? I've heard more than enough about you to know that that is a lie, Miss Granger."

He pointed to the bookstore package, "By those books alone, I can tell you love Alchemy and the discussion of political views. Can Viktor discuss basic elements and transmutation of substances with you? Or the different interpretations of alchemical literature? Both mystical and metaphysical speculations?"

"Of course!" she replied too quickly – the lie as clear as day.

James laughed, "Krum can't even spell Alchemy, darling."

"Well... we have a somewhat more physical than intellectual relationship."

James winced.

"Nothing too intimate," she quickly added, "But..."

"I really don't want to hear about that, Hermione," he ate some bites of his breakfast and looked at her, "Have your fun with Viktor for now. But know that I'll be looking for you in the future," he winked.

She blushed.

"There it is," he whispered.

Her eyes flashed in anger and she ate in silence, thinking about what he had said.

"Can you really discuss metaphysical Alchemy theory?" she asked.

"Yes, and more," he smiled smugly, "You said you know who my parents are. So you can imagine my house has books about everything and anything – from all sources: legal and illegal."

Her amber eyes sparkled again – no longer angry though, but clearly interested.

"So how do you see the Statute of Secrecy being created only after the Salem Witch Trials?"

He smirked, knowing she was testing him.

"That," he replied, "was a huge failure of the Wizarding government. Many innocent lives – magical and muggle alike – could've been saved if the Statute existed since the 14th century – when the first Witch Hunts began."

"But do you agree with the American Rappaport Law?"

"No. That is too extreme. Full segregation is never the answer. Respect and cooperation would be ideal – but there will always be some who will disagree and persecute the other group. Muggles have hunted wizards and wizards have killed muggles and muggleborns since the beginning of times."

She frowned at his words, "So a mixed society, where magic and technology alike can be used to help everyone, will always be just a theory in your opinion?"

"From where we stand now in history? Yes. But I do hope it changes in the future. We have found the cure for diseases that still kill muggles by the thousands. So we sure could help them! And I've recently found out about video-games – they're awesome!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, but seemed somewhat satisfied with his answer and sipped her tea, no longer angry at him.

"Do you know Ancient Runes?" she asked.

He sipped his coffee and replied: "Considering half of my family history is written in Runic Old English, you bet I know Ancient Runes."

"About that, how come you use Peverell as your last name?"

James eyed her knowingly, "You've been dying to ask me that, haven't you?"

"Of course! The Peverell name has died over five centuries ago! Yet you and your brother have it."

He shrugged, "Unfortunately, I don't know the full story. All I know is my mother's father proved having a Peverell as his ancestral and was able to change his last name."

"But how come you do not have... you know, your father's name?"

"Because he's never registered us."

"What?" Hermione nearly shouted, "Why the fuck not? Your mother doesn't deserve the stigma of being a single mother! The Wizarding world is very cruel to single mothers!"

"Well, first of all, mum doesn't really care about what the Wizarding world thinks of her. And second: when Nick and I were born, our parents had split. And it's not as easy as you may think to register illegitimate children, Hermione."

"Bloody retrogressive laws! And I bet you're not Delacours because that's your grandmother's surname."

"Right on point."

Hermione shook her head and looked at James as he picked up the menu again and ordered a slice of lemon tart.

"Well, aren't you a surprise," she whispered.

James arched an eyebrow and looked at her, "You sound glad."

"I am," she admitted, feeling her cheeks heat up again, it wasn't everyday she found someone capable of engaging in a long meaningful discussion of varied topics with her. The fact that James had proven to be more than capable of that – and was also very attractive – had Hermione really interested.

"Glad enough to dump Dumb-Krum?" he asked.

"Maybe," she smiled, watching him eat the tart, seeing him under a whole new light, "Maybe not."

"Fair enough," he nodded, "Do you want a bite?" he offered a piece of lemon tart on his fork for her.

Hermione looked at the fork, getting hot all of a sudden at the thought that that silverware had just been between his lips.

She leaned forward and let him push the fork between her lips, keeping her eyes on his the whole time.

James trembled as she closed her lips around the fork, sliding them along it, taking the tart into her mouth.

"Just fourteen," he whispered, making her chuckle.

It was her turn to smirk, "Viktor is not as concerned about my age as you are, you know?"

His dark eyes seemed to turn darker with jealousy, "That shows you the kind of man he is."

"Yes, I guess it does," she murmured; and if she was being honest, she couldn't even remember why she'd been going out with Viktor Krum in the first place – James had completely erased him from her mind with his charm and intelligence.

Then she glanced at the beautiful clock on the wall and gasped: "Oh, no! I have to go! My parents will be so worried that I stayed here longer than I told them I would."

She stood up and so did James, getting behind her and helping her put on her coat.

"Are you sure that I don't have to pay for the books?" she asked, "I know they weren't cheap."

"Don't worry about it, Hermione."

She turned to face him, "Thanks, James."

"Finally!" he exhaled with a smile, "I've been waiting to hear you say my name," he touched a hand to her cheek and looked into her eyes.

She raised her chin, feeling deliciously trapped by the intensity of his dark eyes, nervously licking her lips in anticipation.

"I'll have to kiss you, Hermione."

"Yes, you will," she quickly agreed.

He smiled and touched his lips to hers in a close-mouthed kiss; he caressed her lips with his, pulling on her bottom lip, their breaths mingling, and all she wanted to do was fist a hand in his hair and make him forget she was just fourteen years old.

But too soon he stopped the kiss, "You better leave."

She just nodded, grabbing her books and leaving the fancy Tea House; and if she looked back a couple of times before reaching the door, who could blame her?


Note: James is something. He always comes out filthily delicious. Lucky Hermione.