Harry Potter One Shots

mornings with james | mwtm

hey everyone! I know I haven't updated in a while, but I thought I'd make a comeback with a mini series! 'mornings with the marauders' will be exactly what it sounds — each imagine a different character, a different morning. I hope you enjoy this instalment, and let me know who you'd like next!

James used to hate mornings.

Used to hate opening his eyes to face the world, surrendering sleep for another day. At Hogwarts, it was Sirius who pulled off his blankets and screamed at him to wake up, with Remus still asleep and Wormtail giggling in the corner. Mornings were no place for mischief, he'd hear himself argue. Mischief was firmly managed in the mornings.

If only the young lad could see himself now.

He's a changed man. How can he hate the morning when it's you coaxing him into consciousness? The feel of your lips against his cheek, whispering his name with a grin. No, he loves waking up beside you.

Daylight sneaks in through the blind. Kissing your bare shoulder, stretching across the bedroom, diving into the dimples of James' cheeks. The open window brings in the cold of late autumn, slipping beneath the sheets, looking to snatching heat. But you're not cold, not with James and his freakish warmth against your back. He's a blissful furnace beside you, arm draped over your waist to keep you secure against his chest. It's calm, it's peaceful.

It's quiet. But oh, how you both love to create chaos.

Swapping pranks and schemes, you dying his hair pink, him dousing you in water. You both love it more when you plan together, combining your terrible power against unwitting targets. Lily really should've been more careful around the flour, you shrugged. Not your fault, not really.

But it's the mornings that you love most, when you play your favourite game. How many kisses will it take for James to wake up? He cheats, he always does, keeping his eyes closed to keep your mouth moving. He tries but it's never any use, he can't fool you.

See, James sighs when he wakes. Just slightly, only softly. But that one little breath betrays him, and it's over. Lucky for him, you love to kiss him as much as he loves to be kissed, and he tricks you into kissing him every time.

It took a while, but now that you've figured out which areas to pay particular attention to, he's doomed to lose. You start your daily mapping of him at his chest. Gentle kisses to his clavicle, sucking a mark into the juncture of his shoulder and neck.

It's enough, usually. But not today.

Today, he's stubborn. Determined to cling to sleep, to hold onto his dreams for as long as he can. He refuses to wake, so you play your ace. With a grin, you drag your mouth up his neck, past his lips, across his cheek. You capture his earlobe with your teeth, tugging slightly.

And... there. James' telltale sigh escapes his mouth. His eyes flicker, but remain closed. Stubborn.

He forfeits when you press a kiss to his lips, lips parting to draw you in and deepen the kiss. Tongue brushing against yours, and you lean back to watch his eyes open.

"Good morning, dear," you whisper, and he smiles at your joke.

Eyes blinking open now, awake, tired. "Hey, pretty girl."

James may not believe in mischief in the morning, but you certainly do. Your best ideas come at dawn, and today is no exception. It's a cruel idea, a wicked one. But, then again, you've always been a little bit wicked. James may feel warm, may be able to turn into a deer, but he hates the cold. It's a good thing your hands have always been on the opposite side of warm. Your cold, freezing cold fingers slide up to rest against his cheek, and you wait for the flinch.

It never comes.

James laughs softly, catching your fingers before they reach his face and slipping his own between them. "Caught you, love."

You huff. "Damn you, Prongs."

"You can't possibly hope to scheme against the scheme master. Am a Marauder and all that, you know." His grin shines in the morning light.

"You're right. How can I possibly stand a chance against you, O Mighty Marauder?"

He's staring into your eyes, distracted with the compliment, all soft edges and warm smile and bright eyes. You seize the opportunity. Quick as a whip, you dart your other hand up and press your fingers against his forehead. Now the flinch comes, and he groans as you laugh. "Got you."

It's this, this right here. When people ask how he knew you were the one, he gives the same answer. Your beautiful, mischievous mind, so much like his own.

This is why he loves you. Your wit, sharp as sunlight.

It's a little early for any other couple. A little early to start jokes and schemes and chaos, cold hands and neck kisses. For anyone else, any other couple, but not for you. Never for you.

His hair's falling in his eyes and you know, he really can't see without his glasses, but James swears you've never looked more beautiful. You, with that mischievous glint in your eye, perfect mouth and furrow between your brows. He kisses your forehead, sliding his hand down to rest against your hip.

Yeah, James really does love mornings with you.