𝕝𝕖𝕘𝕒𝕔𝕪 ⟡ ᴊᴀᴍᴇs ᴘᴏᴛᴛᴇʀ¹

sixteen: confessions

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

LYRA STAYED SILENT as James pulled her across the room. She stayed silent as she realized they were making their way up a set of stairs. And she stayed silent as he dragged her into what she assumed to be his dorm, and closed the door.

She liked to think of herself as a confident person. She always admired Ella for having such an up front personality. But here, in James' room, she felt cornered. She was nervous, scared. She could feel his gaze burning into the side of her head as she desperately tried to ignore it.

She let her eyes wander, immediately recognizing her brother's bed. His covers were all over the place, but his night stand was neatly organized with all of his favorite hair products. She would've laughed if she didn't feel so uncomfortable.

Next to his must have been Remus's. His bed was incredibly tidy and pristine, nothing out of place. There was even a small plush wolf situated in the center, a small bandaid placed over his chest area where his heart would lay. She frowned, not quite understanding it's significance.

Peter's bed would have appeared normal to anyone looking at it, if they failed to recognize the snacks he had hidden underneath it. Lyra never could figure out it his obsession with food, yet it was somewhat fascinating. She was definitely going to ask him about it later.

The last one was James's, and Lyra was quite surprised by its state. Similar to Remus's, everything was in place. She did note that he had a rather small blanket, one that would barely wrap around her own waist that had brooms all over it, the word quidditch displayed across the front. She thought it was absolutely insane how much he loved the sport.

She let her gaze slowly travel up to him, the young witch sucking in a breath as soon as they made eye contact. "Hi" he breathed, still in shock that he had actually grabbed the girl and dragged her off to somewhere private. "Hi" Her voice was small, soft, and James wouldn't of heard it if he wasn't so focused on if she was actually going to answer him or not.

They both stood there, neither really knowing what to say. Lyra cleared her throat, fingers beginning to toy with the hem of her dress. "Did you need something?" she asked, once again, averting her eyes. The tension between them was so thick, she was almost sure you could physically see it.

James didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to think. He didn't know how to act. He felt conflicted, but it seems as if his mind had already decided for him. His feet began to move forward, forcing himself to get closer to her. Lyra gulped, standing still, not wanting to show that she was scared or intimidated.

His footsteps were light, timid, almost as if if he made too much noise, she'd run away. His eyes were trained on her as he walked, stopping when there was only about three inches of space left between them. He gently lifted his hand, brushing a strand of her hair off of her shoulder.

Lyra hated feeling so vulnerable around someone. She hated how his messy hair always seemed to fall in the right places. She hated that stupid smirk that was constantly on his face. She hated that he knew how to make her laugh, and that his laugh made her smile. But most of all, she hated his eyes. His fucking hazel brown eyes that made her melt in every way possible.

James dipped his head down, capturing her lips in a tender yet compassionate kiss. It was as if all of his pent up emotions were pouring out, and that was the only way he knew how to communicate them with her. And she did kiss back, for a couple of seconds or so she allowed herself to feel vulnerable and relish in a moment she would describe as perfect. But reality set in. And this — this wasn't what was supposed to happen.

She pushed him off of her, immediately bringing her hand up to her mouth. "Y-You can't do that, James" she said shakily, wrapping her arms around her waist. "Lyra" he attempted to say, reaching out to her, but she flinched away, almost too scared to touch him.