𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐒, james potter

22. different

September - October 1975

IT WAS RATHER obvious to both Nesrin and James that things were not the same as they used to be.

Nesrin had become painfully aware of James's presence whenever he was near her. The way his hazel eyes seemed to sparkle with mischief and a million promises Nesrin wanted him to whisper into the shell of her ear. The way his dark, dark hair rivaled that of a midnight sky and how she didn't think she had ever seen it without strands of hair not falling onto his face or sticking up.

She had seemed to memorize his laugh. She could recognize it anywhere, no matter where she was or where he was. Even when they were in the Great Hall and were sitting at their respective tables across the room from each other, she could still somehow sense it when he was laughing.

She realized that she could quickly pick out his face in any crowd no matter how big or chaotic.

It was disturbing.

James wasn't doing much better.

It seemed as though everywhere he went, something happened that brought his thoughts back to the tall, freckled girl he had spent countless nights losing sleep over.

Like when Sirius brought up how he had stopped fawning over Lily and asked where did the lovesick idiot go?—the exact name she called him the first time they'd met. Or the time Peter pointed out a particularly beautiful sunset and James couldn't help but think back to when Nesrin had said she loved sunsets and then he wondered if she was looking out at the sky at the same time he was.

He found himself counting down the seconds until the next time he would see her, whether it be in the library for tutoring or in their secret spot at the little meadow he had only ever taken her to.

He liked her.

It pained him to admit it, but he did. He really, really, really did.

It was different than liking Lily. With Lily, he was always trying to make himself seem bigger in a way. More masculine or more attractive or more impressive. It was as if he was putting on an act in front of her.

With Nesrin, it was different.

He felt, dare he say it, free. He could be himself. He didn't have to pretend in front of her. It was a little scary, frankly, how comfortable he felt around her. How much he wanted to tell her everything about himself.

It was true—what he said about her being his best friend. Theirs was a different type of friendship than the one he had with the Marauders. With them, it was more of a brotherhood—they were practically family. With Nesrin, he hadn't been more sure in his life that she truly was his best friend.

He had never felt that way about anyone.

Despite these arising feelings in both of the teenagers, though, neither of them mentioned anything.

There were all these unspoken words between them that they couldn't stop running away from. So many things to say, and yet, neither of them said. It was exhilarating and exhausting all at the same time.

And then there was also the fact that they both found countless excuses to touch each other.

Whether it be brushing their fingers in passing or "accidentally" bumping their shoulders into the other's. Any excuse they could find, they used.

Sometimes, James would brush his knuckles against her knee in class for a second longer than would be considered an accident.

Sometimes, Nesrin would purposely act as if she couldn't reach a book in the library because she knew James would show up behind her to grab it for her, his body close enough that she could feel his warmth everywhere.

They were playing a dangerous game.

But neither of them could find it in themselves to care.

✧ ✦ ✧

THE WEATHER HAD started to change rapidly. Gone were the warm days of summer sun and the glow casted on freckled skin and golden eyes. Nesrin welcomed the cool of the upcoming autumn.

Somehow, there was security in the way the leaves fell in the fall. The way they changed colors and fell and shriveled. The way they left the trees bare and showed every imperfection, every detail. The way they weren't constant.

As she sat underneath a tree that still had half of its leaves left, she stared out at the Black Lake, the rippling surface resembling the night sky littered with shining stars.

As she spotted a creature sifting through the waves in the distance, a loud scream and hands on her shoulders startled her so badly that she fell over even though she was sitting.

Clutching her chest, she turned around with her heart beating rapidly only to find a dark-haired prankster hunched over laughing loudly.

She scowled angrily, moving to slap his shoulder and shove him back. He was still laughing, so he fell easily. Now he was on his back, still cackling.

In her frustration, she moved so that she was hovering over him. Raising her hand with the full intention of punching the smile off his face, she started lowering it before James noticed. He suddenly grabbed her wrist and twisted both of their bodies so that he was laying fully on top of her, their torsos pressed together.

The air was knocked out of her, though she knew he was barely even putting half of his body weight on her. She looked up as he stared down at her, the remains of his amusement still on his face.

And all of a sudden, his smile dropped and he was staring at her with such fierce intensity it was almost impossible for her to not grab the back of his neck, intertwine her fingers in his hair, and kiss the shit out of him.

But she didn't.

His hand raised. It drifted over her cheek, her shoulder, burning her skin in its wake. The air seemed more charged than it had ever been between them.

And then his hand got to the underside of her arm and he curled his fingers until he was tickling her armpit.

She shrieked and pushed him off of her. His chuckles filled the air as she glared at him.

"Fuck you, asshole."

His mouth tilted into a half-smirk. "You wish, love."

Her face remained neutral though her heart was pounding. She flipped him off, only for him to start snickering again.

She stared at him, hoping she could keep the fondness out of her gaze.

He stared back, hoping she didn't catch the waver in his breath.

He grinned so wide, his dimples looked deeper than the everlasting sea.

And that was when she knew.

She was falling for James Potter, and she was falling quickly.

Fuck.

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 !

charles leclerc.