'PRONGS PRONGS PRONGS.' Sirius was sitting with his back against the balcony, twisting safety pins through the holes at the knee of his jeans, a cigarette nestled between his lips. 'Blimey, Prongs, where can I get one of these Muggle motorcycles?'
James watched a few smouldering bits of ash falling from the cigarette, saying nothing. His mind was elsewhere, lost in the aftermath of moonlight and Firewhisky shots and drunk Isla's pinky hooked through his.
Isla Montgomery, he mused. What are you exactly?
He looked out over the balcony - a little spot Remus had found in their third year, and had since been branded with four initials. He gazed out over the forest, over the lake and up at the stars, with their tails shimmering in a dazzling haze against the luminous glow of a crescent moon. He leaned against the rail, twisting Sirius' cigarette packet through his figures.
'Jesus, Prongs, are you even listening to me?'
James sighed, running a hand through his hair so that it was even more messy than usual. 'If motorcycles turn you on so much, just buy one, Pads.'
Sirius rolled his eyes. 'You've got a stick up your ass, haven't you? Is this about that Isla girl? Because I swear to God -'
The door behind them creaked as it opened and James turned around, expecting to see Remus, who was notorious for slipping away. But when he turned around, time twisted upon its axis as his gaze collided with Isla's.
In the cold winter evening, her cheeks were flushed a delicate rose, brown hair cascading down her shoulders in soft rivulets. She was devastatingly beautiful.
'Hey,' she said cautiously.
Don't say stupid things, don't say stupid things, he coached himself mentally.
Sirius put out his cigarette on the side of the balcony, muttering something about having to meet Remus to study. James nodded absent mindedly, gaze dropping to the soft cupids-bow curve of her lips, because he really, really wanted to kiss her again. Wanted to unravel her and push her to the edge just so he could see the pretty flush of her face when she was annoyed.
Isla glared at him (he felt like she was always glaring at him one way or another) and lowered her gaze to the packet of cigarettes. 'Do you smoke these things?'
Her eyes radiated a sort of shimmering intrigue, and she looked almost enthralled with a sense of innocent wonder as he twisted a cigarette between his fingers, prompting James to say (rather stupidly), 'Uh, yeah. All the time.'
She tilted her head, brown curls falling over her shoulders like ripples of moonlight, before she asked, 'Can I have one?'
A laugh tumbled from his lips before he could help it. 'You smoke?'
'All the time,' she said. The hesitancy orbiting her eyes made James believe she was lying just as much as he was, but he watched as, with a look of defiance on her face, Isla reached from the pack and nestled a cigarette between her lips. James laughed softly, shaking his head, and gently plucked it from her mouth.
'Wrong way, love,' he said, grinning as he inserted it back in her mouth. His knuckle accidentally brushed over her rose petal lips like a softly spoken prayer, and he was shocked when she didn't flinch away from his touch.
And something about James's smug smile tempted Isla to fall back into the siren call of daydreams and just rest her head above the waters of a wishing well for just a moment, flickers of memories and coloured pieces of glass encircling her figure like a waterfall.
She couldn't have James. She knew she couldn't. But damn it all to hell if he wasn't the prettiest thing she'd ever seen.
He was obviously trying not to laugh as he muttered 'Incendio,' and lit the tip of his cigarette. She leaned in so that the flame from his wand reached her cigarette, their foreheads touching as they each took a deep drag. The apples of both their cheeks were warmed from the flames when -
'Holy shit,' James said, his eyes stinging, cheeks tinted pink.
Isla's throat burned as she exhaled, a gust of smoke curling over his head like a halo as she coughed. 'God, you can't tell me people actually like the taste of this rubbish?'
'Talk to Sirius about it, not me,' James muttered, still holding back coughs. 'He's the prat who does this for fun, bloody nutter.'
Isla leaned against the balcony, the winter air caressing her cheeks. 'It's pretty, though,' she murmured, gazing down at the orange embers.
'Tastes like shit,' James added.
They fell into silence. Isla leaned over the balcony, watching the embers flicker and die from the cigarettes, bright and seductive against the midnight velvet sky.
'Which version am I today?' James asked her. It felt like time was moving fast and slow all at once, but Isla knew the answer to his question before he'd even asked it.
'You're my favourite version today,' she said, barely noticing it until the words had tumbled from her mouth.
James hooked her pinkie through his, and she flushed delicately at the feeling, remembering vaguely how it had felt when she was drunk and their fingers had been entwined. 'Why?'
Her response was simple: 'Because you found me.'
He took another drag off his cigarette and breathed out slowly, staring back into her eyes and a smile quirked across his mouth.
'What?' she demanded. 'Are you laughing at me again?'
'Absolutely not.' He twisted the cigarette between his fingers. 'It kind of gets better when you get used to it. There's sort of a sweeter side you don't quite expect, but it's there. And it's nice.'
He turned, his gaze now fixed upon her with a velvety intensity swirling in his irises. And Isla could feel her heart banging painfully against her ribs but she couldn't look away. Anywhere else, she was strong and confident and brash, but when she was with him - when she was with James, everything seemed to fade away.
'Will you stop this?' she finally burst out.
James smiled slightly. 'Stop what?'
She crossed her arms, trying not to watch as the moonlight crept across his face, a stark coalition of silver and gold circling his eyes. 'Acting like you like me.'
'I do like you.'
'You like every girl.'
'Sure.' He was so beautiful that she couldn't look at him for too long; eyes the colour of molten honey and glimmering with some sort of addictive shimmer, leaving her wanting, wanting. 'But I like you the most.'
'Stop,' Isla whispered, a tender vulnerability misting over her irises. 'Stop. Just because - just because I'm new here, or because we kissed once doesn't mean you can see this shit, okay? You can't just mess around with me like that.'
The corner of his lips curled upwards in a wry smile. 'Is it so difficult for you to believe that I genuinely enjoy your company?'
'But you -' Her voice broke, eyes suddenly feeling rather wet, and goddamnit, James, why do you have to say things like this? 'If you're messing with me, I - I can't take it anymore, James. I told you I couldn't be just another one of your girls, and I meant it, because I'm going insane here trying to figure out if you actually like me, or -'
'Vix,' he interrupted. She fell silent as he tucked her hair behind her ear, hand lingering behind her jaw, close enough to feel her pulse pick up speed, like waves shattering on midnight sand. 'You're so cute when you do that.'
Isla felt her lungs constrict. 'Shut up.'
'I could shut you up instead.' Energy flickered between them, cold fire and hot ice erupting in a lick of blue, crystallised flame. 'Want me to?'
She glared at him. 'Why are you asking?'
Yes. Shut me up.
'Because I'm a gentleman and I believe in consent.' He was close now, close enough that she could see the flecks of venus orbiting his irises, could taste the cigarette smoke on his breath. 'Do you want me to kiss you, Isla?'
She couldn't take it anymore. 'Just shut up and do it, idiot.'
And then Isla grabbed onto pure fire and kissed him with everything she had within her: all of the pent-up frustration and irritation and sweet, sweet nervousness that coated her bones and sang in her blood. James Potter tasted like toasted caramel and the lingering flavour of nicotine, and he slipped a thumb under her shirt and smoothed his hand over her skin, and everything was perfect and panicked all at once, fingers trailing around the nape of his neck to bury themselves in the silken locks of his midnight hair.
When he pulled away, Isla stood there for a moment without moving, eyes closed, holding onto the feeling even as the cold air washed away the warmth from his mouth on hers.
'Vix,' he breathed, brushing his lips against her once, twice, and then three times. Her hands made small fists against his shirt, and everything turned into white noise as he looked at the sugar-glazed expression in her eyes. 'I think we might just be the dumbest people alive.'
Isla was silent as she took him in, the sight nearly unravelling her completely - lips swollen, eyes burning, cheeks painted a soft rosy hue.
'So, now you're quiet?'
I hate you,' she said. The boy with midnight hair cracked a gorgeous grin in her direction and pulled her to him again, bodies warm and dangerously chaotic.
'Yeah,' he whispered, brushing his lips against her forehead, 'yeah, I like you too, Vix.'
***
a/n: !!!!!!!!!!!! its finally happened guys
also thank you for 100+ votes on willow (and 510+ on lovergirl?? is absolutely insane wtf)
i haven't really planned much past this point so prepare for the plot to become absolutely unhinged from now on ❤️