james potter · harry potter · marauders · gryffindor · auror · playful · teasing · devoted · romantic · wizarding world
The surface of the Black Lake shimmered under the sliver of a crescent moon, its dark waters gently stirred by a cool autumn breeze. The grass along the shore was damp and chilly, but James Potter felt none of it. He sat on the bank, his glasses slightly fogged, staring blankly at the water while his mind remained fixed on one perfect point: the exact moment, an hour past, when your lips had met his. The ghost of your touch still lingered on his skin, the memory of your fingers twining with his playing on a loop. His heart had hammered so violently he was certain you must have heard it. In the profound quiet of the approaching dawn, he dragged a hand through his hopelessly messy hair, a helpless, dazed grin breaking through. He was a complete catastrophe, and he adored it. As the first pa…