willow───james potter

13 | espresso

'OKAY, YOU CAN either have me in dress robes or completely naked except for my glasses.'

'Holy shit, can you shut up.'

James glanced up at her and cracked a devilish smirk, looking annoyingly handsome as ever. 'I would apologise, but I'd be lying,' he said. 'I knew you'd look pretty with your face flushed, and I was right.'

Feeling heat seeping into the apples of both cheeks, Isla flicked the side of his face, smirking as he let out an overly dramatised 'Ow!'

'I choose clothes on, please,' she said firmly. 'With your glasses as well.'

'Ah, yes, you and your kink.'

Isla chose to ignore this. 'How long until the others get back from class?' she asked. 'Or, maybe I should reword it: how long until Sirius comes in to kick your ass for ditching him in Muggle Studies?'

A gasp escaped her mouth as he ran his fingers up her shirt, warm and electric against winter skin. 'About twenty minutes.'

'Okay,' Isla sighed. 'I can work with that.'

His eyes flashed like a lion in front of her as he hooked their pinkies together. 'All I need is five.'

'Arrogant asshole -'

'Your arrogant asshole.'

'Unfortunately, yeah -'

And then the boy with midnight hair pulled her down gently so that his lips met hers. And he tasted like hot honey and liquid-smoke espresso as the tip of his tongue just barely grazed the outline of her upper lip, somehow manoeuvring them so that she was laying on top of him, thigh pressing against his and fingers exploring the sharp curve of his jaw.

Isla let his fingers explore the column of her throat, stardust lining every vein and electricity flowing into every crevice. He carried the moon in his glazed eyes, and she held the galaxies in her arms: glowing, twinkling, shining. James groaned against her mouth, and she realised that this position - her on top of him - symbolised their pace. Her pace. He was giving her control.

Their chests rose and fell with a rapid pace, breath slipping out of their lungs like the morning dew. She rolled down next to him on his bed and rested her head in the space between his neck and shoulder, boyish warmth lighting up her bones, only to be interrupted as the dormitory door flung open with a resounding bang.

Isla had little time to move as James shoved her underneath the sheets, throwing a pillow over the form of her body to hide the lump.

'What?' she heard James say, voice rapid, breathing rather heavily.

'I was ... going to ask if you were ready for Quidditch practice.' Sirius' voice was lined with confusion, and Isla could hear him stepping around the dormitory to rummage through his trunk.

'Does it look like I'm fucking ready?'

'No, it looks like you're fucking. Have you got a girl in here?'

Isla held her breath, squeezing her eyes shut. The sheets smelled like lilac and drops of mint; it made her soft, this smell, small and sleepy, a whisper of something tiny leaving her lips and travelling into the hallway.

'What - no -'

'It's okay, Prongs,' Sirius continued. 'I really think it's time to move on. I don't think Isla's ever going to come around to you.'

Isla couldn't help the soft laugh that escaped her lips - she felt James kick her swiftly under the sheets as Sirius left the room. Her eyes were bright and sparkling as she sat up, her curly brown hair ruffled and lips still slightly swollen.