ADDICTED | j.p x oc

45

As much as Eleanor would have loved to see as little of James as possible after the party, she only managed to go a few hours before he came to her room and laid down beside her, scaring Ben from where he had been sleeping.

"James, why the fuck are you in here? Fuck off," El grumbled, turning her back to him.

"Language," James scolded.

That was all he said, his eyes closed as he buried his head in her hair. El rolled her eyes, but was far to tired to actually force James to leave, and in all honesty, sharing a bed with him was a lot nicer than sleeping alone.

Things like that had always been James' skill. He had a way of getting people to forgive him without actually having to put in much effort. It happened with him and Sirius all the time, they would argue—undoubtably about something pointless—and Sirius would storm off in a strop, only for the two to be acting like brothers again no more than an hour later.

"You looked sexy," James mumbled.

El turned suddenly. "Why's that past tense?"

James' eyes remained closed, pulling the girls body back towards his since she had moved away. He placed his chin against the top of her head and wrapped his arms around her, taking his time in answering the question.

"When you were angry." James replied, finishing his own sentence instead of answering El's.

"You think i'm sexy when i'm angry?" El questioned, unable to peer up at him for James' hold being so tight.

James made something of a mhmm noise, partially asleep. "Did i ever tell you how sexy it was when you punched Rosier? I was hard all day."

"You should be a poet," El said, her voice muffled.

She felt James' chest vibrate as he let out a soft laugh.

***

Other than the dirty floor, and the occasional blood stain, the room looked pristine, like a house that was yet to be lived in. She lay on the ground, forced into that position as it was the one that hurt the least. The expensive wooden floor around her had been stained red, along with her clothes. The only food she had seen in what felt like years lay a few feet away; a piece of bread that looked to be weeks old. The sound of a door creaking caused her to raise her gaze to where a woman was standing in the doorway, letting a small slither of light into the room. There was movement—a flick of a wand—before she felt herself being thrown against the wall behind her, knocking off a painting. There was more movement, and she was thrown against the opposite wall as if she weighed nothing. The woman walked over to where the girl was lying on the floor and nudged her with a leather boot, to make her move. After a flash of red light, she felt her whole body being squished. A tightening feeling surrounded her bones and writhed about on the floor to try get rid of it, but the more she moved, the tighter it got.

"El!"

The name sounded like someone was saying it loudly. They were shouting, but it was far away. The squeezing feeling got worse, and she began to feel as though she could not breathe.

"Letter! El! Hey hey hey shh. You're fine."

El woke with a start, taking in a deep breath of air that felt like she had needed it for years.

"Get off, get off now!" she snapped, pulling at James' strong arms before he had even had time to process what she had said.

"Woah, sorry i just—"

"Shut up!"

El sat up and brought up a shaking hand to massage her temples, even the smallest noises were giving her a headache. What was intended as a comforting hand was placed on her back, but El flinched and stood, her hand still shaking and her breathing still rapid.