with love || hogwarts imagines

James Potter: Cold Fingers

Ice pummeled into your exposed skin as you trudged your way back to school. It felt like thousands of needles stinging your face above your scarf, reddening your nose and cheeks. Why did the storm have to come now, you thought miserably.

Today had already been the worst. Two essays had been due, you got in trouble with Slughorn for spilling Amortentia on him and the whole class found out he fancied McGonagall, and then as soon as you thought you could catch a break at Hogsmeade, snow had begun to fall. It began as a trickle, a sprinkling if you will, but soon the air was thick with whirls of frozen wind.

Hours seemed to go by, but you finally made it back to Hogwarts. Stomping the stubborn snow off of your shoes, you shed your wet and clammy outer clothes and made your way through the crowded halls back to y/h's common room. The castle was warm with the heat of students arriving back. Lily Evans, your best friend, grabbed your arm. "There you are! I've been looking for you everywhere. Merlin, it's cold out there!"

Her cheeks were nearing the shade of her red hair. "Ugh, tell me about it," you laughed. Giving her a small smirk, you asked, "So... how was your date with Severus?"

"Oh," she stuttered, "it wasn't— we're not—"

"Lils."

Your friend smiled nervously. "It was so lovely! He took me to the Three Broomsticks because he knew I hated Madame Puddifoots and he payed for everything. Definitely written by a woman. Then he held my hand when we walked back. He held my hand y/n!"

"Practically a marriage proposal," you grinned. Lily rolled her eyes at you but the smile never left her face. I wonder... no. No, don't think about that.

Romance was never your thing. Well, it was. Books and movies and music about romance. But the real thing? Absolutely not.

Lily stopped by the Great Hall to talk to her date as you went on your mission to drop off your things. You made your way down the echoey corridors of the school, ascending the stair cases in a well-worn pattern of memory.

"Y/l/n! 'Ello! Fancy seeing you here," you heard a sly voice say from behind you. Oh no.

"Potter."

"Why so serious?" James Potter grinned as he strutted up from behind you (yes, James Potter did strut, and he was proud of it.)

"Yeah, that's my job," said Sirius Black from behind him. Remus Lupin rolled his eyes at him. Where was Peter? Nevermind, I suppose. I never liked him anyway.

"What do you need, Potter?" You sighed. Just a week ago, the Marauders had somehow vanished all your clothes and absolutely refused to give them back until you told McGonagall, wrapped in a y/h bedsheet.

"I've just wanted to say hello, is that such a crime?" He winked. "Never thought it was against the rules to greet a pretty girl."

You hoped the rose dusting on your cheeks could be blamed on the cold. Me? Pretty? "Well, when have you ever abided by the rules anyway?" You asked, brushing it off.

"Good question, love. I'm a bad boy to the bone, what can I say?"

You snorted. "Bad boy, huh?"

"C'mon, let me give you a hand," he said with a crooked smile. Ugh, that smile.

"Absolutely not! You'll end up turning the snow on my clothes to slime or something, I don't know. Besides, I don't need help."

"That's actually a good idea—"

"Shut up, Sirius," Remus said. He said something else you couldn't quite catch, and the next thing you knew, the two had gone off down the hall and vanished.

You looked between the three, then back at James. You did have a lot: your coat, hat, gloves, jacket, book bag... "Fine," you sighed and handed him your bag, fingers overlapping awkwardly as you handed it over.

"Your hands are bloody cold!" He exclaimed.

You shrugged. "Well, it's cold outside, you know. I heard that's what happened in December."

"Here, let me warm them for you," he said, his brow furrowed. You hesitated. He looks so... concerned though. "C'mon, love, it'll feel better. Promise." He held out his hands.

Slowly, you slipped your fingers into his. The contrast of your hands was startling. His so warm, yours seemed fractalized to the bone. His so big, you're so small. His silver rings, yours gold.

You glanced up for a second, only to see James staring down at you, so intently that you would've thought you were the sole hope of a dying man. If eyes were the window to the soul, surely he was searching yours for something. But what?

Your breathing got unsteady. "I— Potter?"

"Yes?"

"What're you doing?"

"Warming your hands."

Your faces were closer than you thought. Slim inches stood between you. His eyes were so pretty... and his lips...

"Y/l/n?"

"Yes, Potter?"

"Kiss me."

Hands in hair, eyes closed, lips molded together as though made to fit one another. You were hyper aware and yet so marvelously gone. All you felt was James. His hands, one on your back, one on your neck. His nose pressed on your cheek, his eyelashes fluttering against your temple, lips on yours. His glasses bumped your forehead and you both broke away to laugh a bit. It wouldn't be a proper first kiss without messing up something.

"You're bloody brilliant," he said, eyes finally opening as your foreheads still touched.

"I'm certainly warmer now," you smirked.

"I KNEW YOU COULD DO IT, PRONGS!" Sirius shouted from down the hall.

let me know your thoughts and if you have any requests, i'm totally open! hope you enjoyed it!

love y'all,
Jen xoxo