Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Severus Snape did not mean to become a mind reader.

Truly. He wasn’t meddling in forbidden magic. He hadn’t cracked open some ancient artefact from the Restricted Section. He was simply brewing—peacefully, brilliantly—until James bloody Potter showed up and did what he did best:

Ruined everything.

It had been a modification of the Elixir of Insight—delicate, elegant, precise. Meant to enhance perception without overwhelming the senses. A masterpiece in progress.

Until James Potter leaned over the cauldron and said:

“Smells like my gran’s attic. Are you sure it’s safe to breathe in?”

Then—boom.

A puff of violet smoke, a minor explosion, and the unmistakable sound of a Gryffindor disaster saying, “It wasn’t my fault!” while wiping soot from his glasses.

Severus had threatened to hex him.

Then promptly passed out.

He awoke the next morning with a pounding headache and the strong, sinking feeling that the universe was punishing him for something.

Everything looked normal.

Until it didn’t.

The library was supposed to be his sanctuary. Peaceful. Predictable.

He sat in his favourite chair—back corner, near the dusty herbology encyclopedias—flipping through Advanced Theories of Magical Compounding.

And then, with the grace of a hurricane in trousers, James Potter plopped down into the seat beside him.

“Good morning,” James said cheerfully.

Severus opened his mouth to tell him to go away—

“He looks so cute when he’s grumpy.”

Severus froze.

What?

He turned his head slowly, as if maybe he’d misheard. But James was already flipping through a Quidditch magazine, the picture of casual innocence.

Severus narrowed his eyes.

“Look at that pout. Merlin help me.”

He stared.

“…What?” Severus asked aloud, voice tight.

James blinked at him. “Didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t—” Severus stopped himself. No. That was… no. He must be hallucinating.

He stood abruptly, knocking over his chair in the process. James jumped.

“I—have somewhere to be.” Severus gathered his books and fled.

Behind him, James called out: “See you later, sunshine!”

And in his head—because there was no way Severus imagined this—

“Maybe if I keep calling him cute things, he’ll slap me again. Worth it.”

Severus did not scream.

Not audibly.

Barely.

The summary:

James Potter had broken his potion.

And now Severus could hear his thoughts.

And worse?

They were all about him.

Merlin help him.

He was doomed.

Totally, irreversibly doomed.

END OF CHAPTER

Chapter Text

It didn’t stop.

It wasn’t a one-time freak incident.

If anything—it got worse.

By Thursday, Severus had developed a nervous tic in his left eye and the emotional stability of a molotov cocktail. Because James Potter didn’t just think one rogue thought and call it a day.

Oh no.

Potter’s mind was a catastrophic stream of chaos, a reckless parade of observations, fantasies, and inner monologues that never, ever shut up.

And for reasons known only to fate and whatever sadistic god ran the universe, all of it was about Severus.

In Potions class:

James leaned slightly over their shared table—because of course they were paired—and stared at the simmering cauldron.

“Is it normal to want to bite someone’s neck in a non-vampire way?”

“Wait—he twitched. Abort. Think about Quidditch. No—not that kind of riding—Merlin, James!”

Severus dropped his pestle into the cauldron with a loud clunk, narrowly avoiding a minor explosion.

He stared down at the mixture like it had personally offended him.

This was his life now.

Hell.

Personal, romantic hell.

In the corridor, passing by:

“Hair’s a bit greasy today. Still wanna run my hands through it. Is that bad? That’s bad. Should I tell McGonagall I’m mentally unwell?”

Severus whipped around. “What is wrong with you?”

James, walking by with Sirius and Peter, froze. “…What?”

Severus blinked. “Nothing.” He spun on his heel and stormed off, nearly colliding with a suit of armour.

Behind him, echoing like an audio curse:

“He’s so pretty when he’s mad. I hope he turns me into a ferret. I’d just live in his pocket. Peacefully.”

Severus gagged.

By Thursday, he was desperate.

He’d scoured the Restricted Section and found a battered pamphlet called Mind Muddling for the Modern Wizard. He wore the talisman tucked under his shirt like a lifeline.

It didn’t work.

Because later that day, when he snuck off to the Astronomy Tower for some peace and sanity, James found him anyway.

“Studying alone?” James said, flopping beside him like a golden retriever who’d learned to sit. “That’s sad.”

Severus narrowed his eyes.

“God, look at that little frown. That’s my frown now. I’m claiming it. Property of James Potter.”

Severus made a strangled noise in the back of his throat.

“You alright?” James asked, blinking.

“I’m going to hex you.”

“That’s fair.”

“This is fine. I’ll die here. On this tower. He’ll stab me in the eye with a quill and I’ll say thank you.”

Severus stood up so fast his parchment scattered.

“Stop thinking.”

“What?”

“I SAID—stop being an idiot!”

James just grinned, maddeningly unfazed. “Is that your way of asking me to stay?”

Severus turned and fled down the stairs.

Behind him, like a final blow to his dignity:

“Maybe one day he’ll kiss me goodnight instead of glaring at me. Though honestly, both are hot.”

Severus didn’t run.

He sprinted.

By now, he knew three things for certain:

1. James Potter was ridiculous.
2. James Potter had a very loud brain.
3. James Potter—somehow, inexplicably, horrifyingly—liked him.

Severus Snape, prickly, quiet, perpetually scowling.

He didn’t know what to do with that.

Except scream into a pillow and hope for mercy.

END OF CHAPTER

Chapter Text

Severus Snape had once believed in the sanctity of silence.

He revered it. Cultivated it. Wrapped himself in it like a shield.

Now?

Now he would pay a stupid amount of galleons—possibly his soul—to have it back.

Because James Potter’s mind didn’t come with an off switch.

Not in class.

Not in the corridors.

Not even in Severus’ dreams.

Which was unfair.

Unacceptable.

Possibly a magical crime.

Because last night, he had dreamed of floating through a field of exploded cauldrons while James’ thoughts serenaded him in the background, murmuring things like:

“Grumpy bunny. My grumpy bunny.”

He woke up screaming into his pillow.

Saturday. Desperate times.

He tried Occlumency.

Didn’t work.

Tried a modified counter-potion. Burned off his eyebrows.

Tried putting socks in his ears.

Unsurprisingly: not effective.

In a final act of flailing dignity, he approached Madam Pince under the guise of a “theoretical academic concern.”

“Do you know if telepathy can be reversed?” he asked stiffly. “Hypothetically.”

Madam Pince, who’d seen things no one should ever speak of, narrowed her eyes behind her spectacles.

“Not by force, dear,” she said. “But if you were to, say, throw the offending party into the lake… well.” She smiled.

Everyone was against him.

Sunday. Something shifted.

Severus was in the library—his library—when James wandered in like he belonged there.

Which he did not.

Severus immediately braced for impact.

Noisy thoughts. Ridiculous nicknames. Something mortifying.

But instead…

“He looks tired. Wonder if he’s sleeping okay. He deserves a break. Deserves someone who’d let him rest without always watching his back.”

…Oh.

Severus blinked.

James sat down beside him.

Didn’t speak.

Didn’t poke.

Just opened a book and started flipping pages like it was normal.

Like they were normal.

“I’d sit here forever if it meant he didn’t glare at me like I stole his socks.”

Severus bit the inside of his cheek to stop the warmth curling in his chest.

It didn’t help.

The next day, Transfiguration.

James passed him a note.

No doodles. No hearts. No ridiculous scribbles.

Just a single line:

Hey. You alright?

Severus didn’t write back.

But he folded the note and tucked it into the front cover of his textbook, smoothing the crease gently.

Because—no, he would never admit it—but…

He was listening for James now.

The world was still full of noise. Whispers. Thoughts.

But they dulled around the edges.

They became background hum.

Only James stood out—louder, messier, unfiltered, bright.

He didn’t even need to look when James entered a room. His mind just… lit up. A chaotic beacon. Loud and impossible and weirdly comforting.

And sometimes, just sometimes, it said things like:

“I think I’m falling for him. But if he hexes me, I’ll understand.”

Severus didn’t know what to do with that.

So he did what any emotionally stunted, socially exhausted seventeen-year-old would do:

He stared at his textbook and pretended the butterflies in his stomach were just indigestion.

END OF CHAPTER

Chapter Text

By the second week of… whatever this was, Severus had fine-tuned his internal warning system.

It went like this:

Step one: A prickle behind his left ear.

Step two: The temperature in the room shifted.

Step three: His stomach did a tiny, annoying flutter.

Translation: James Potter had entered the vicinity and started thinking.

And thinking meant things like:

 “He stirs his potions like he’s conducting a symphony. I’d let him ruin my life and write it down in ink.”

“He taps his quill exactly five times before he writes. Every single time. I’m obsessed. Someone stop me.”

Severus did not smile.

But his lips twitched. Slightly.

Once.

He immediately buried his face in his textbook and glared at a diagram of a flux-charm like it owed him money.

This was fine.

Totally, completely fine.

Except it wasn’t.

Because now Severus noticed everything.

The way James would subtly reserve him a seat in crowded classrooms. How he’d silence Sirius with a single glance if a joke landed too close to home. How he’d “accidentally” leave extra snacks near Severus’ bag during double lectures.

Severus told himself they were bribes.

Definitely bribes.

But then—

“Hope he likes that one. It’s got the raspberry filling.”

He hated raspberry filling.

He ate it anyway.

One rainy afternoon in the greenhouse, Professor Sprout paired them for an assignment involving delicate replanting.

James approached the table like a man about to perform brain surgery.

“You good?” he asked, awkwardly tugging on his dragonhide gloves.

“I’m fine,” Severus snapped.

 “Stars above, he even snaps prettily. What is wrong with me.”

Severus dropped a pot.

James caught it.

And smiled.

Severus stared at the pot like it had personally betrayed him. His ears turned pink.

Then came the pattern.

He started showing up near places James frequented.

Strictly coincidental, of course.

The corridor near the Charms classroom before lunch. That alcove by the Owlery James liked for sketching plays. The library aisle with the transfiguration theory books that James pretended to understand but mostly flipped through upside down.

“Oh,” James would say. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I literally timed it to the minute.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Are you stalking me?”

“Would you be flattered or annoyed?”

“I’d be concerned.”

“Not a no.”

That night, Severus lay awake in bed, eyes fixed on the canopy above.

There were no thoughts in his head but his own.

He should have felt relief.

He wanted to feel relief.

But instead, the quiet felt… wrong.

Too empty.

Too still.

James hadn’t crossed his mind in over two hours and it felt like something was missing.

Which was absurd.

Which meant nothing.

Which—

Terrified him.

END OF CHAPTER

Chapter Text

It was nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

A simple, meaningless moment.

Severus was reaching for a quill. James was handing him a new one—because "You like the finer nibs, don’t you?”—and then—

Touch.

Fingers brushed.

Skin to skin.

Casual. Innocent. Normal.

Except it was not.

Because:

1. James Potter’s hand was warm.

2. James Potter’s thoughts were louder than a screaming banshee.

3. Severus might have just short-circuited.

 “His fingers are so slender. Like a pianist’s. He could destroy me and I’d write him a thank-you letter.”

“Okay. Play it cool. Just a hand. Just a hand. It’s not a metaphor. It’s not—why is he not letting go? Oh no. Am I holding him hostage? I’M HOLDING HIM HOSTAGE.”

Severus dropped the quill.

And the ink bottle.

And, somewhere in the process, his sanity.

“Excuse me,” he said in a tone roughly five octaves too high.

James blinked. “Did I—?”

“NOPE,” Severus barked. “You did nothing. Nothing at all. I am going. Away. Possibly to the lake. Or the forest. Or Azkaban.”

And he fled the classroom like it was on fire.

James was left holding the quill, ink on his sleeve, and a faint look of wonder on his face.

“Ten out of ten freak-out. But he touched me for three seconds and my brain’s still on fire, so… fair.”

Severus didn’t stop running until he hit the Astronomy Tower.

He stood there, panting, heart pounding like a kettle drum as the wind tried to knock some sense into him.

This couldn’t be happening.

He’d faced bullies. Potions mishaps. Sirius Black on a dare.

Nothing had prepared him for:

James Potter finds you attractive and also might be in love with you and now you’re reacting like a Victorian governess who saw an ankle.

“Nope,” Severus hissed at the sky. “Absolutely not.”

He was not… blushing. He was not a romantic. He was Snape. Dark, logical, emotionally evasive.

He did not get butterflies.

He did not want to touch James again.

He did not replay that moment five hundred times while leaning dramatically against the stone railing like the protagonist of a doomed love story.

…

“…idiot,” he muttered, softly, to himself.

Back in the dorms, he buried his face in a pillow.

He’d almost survived this semester. Almost. But no—Potter’s hands had ruined everything.

From somewhere far away, echoing like an annoyingly sweet curse:

“Wonder if he’ll let me hold his hand again tomorrow.”

Severus screamed into the pillow.

END OF CHAPTER

Chapter Text

Severus sat in the Great Hall with all the enthusiasm of a broken teacup.

He stabbed his eggs.

He glared at his toast.

He nearly hexed a second-year who chewed too loudly.

None of this was new.

What was new?

He was very obviously—painfully obviously—waiting.

Not for a letter. Not for an announcement.

For James.

Which was ridiculous.

Absurd.

Absolutely humiliating.

Then—

There it was.

That familiar warmth pressing into his mind like a favourite jumper he didn’t ask for.

James Potter had entered the room.

“Morning, Sunshine. God, he’s cute when he’s cranky. Look at him trying to kill his eggs. Adorable.”

Severus did not choke on his pumpkin juice.

But he did cough. Very quietly. With composure.

Sort of.

He allowed himself exactly one (1) glance.

And James?

James winked.

Severus dropped his fork.

By lunch, he was unraveling.

Slowly. Elegantly. Like a ribbon slipping free from a well-tied knot.

It started when James pulled a chair out for him.

Like some old-fashioned courting ritual.

What next? A handwritten sonnet? An enchanted locket with their initials? A dowry?

“He looked tired. Wanted him to sit somewhere nice. Maybe he’ll let me carry his books next.”

Severus twitched.

Why—why was that the thing that undid him?

He had endured cruel jokes, hexes, duels, emotional abandonment—and yet, one chair offered with care and his brain melted into pudding.

“I am not being wooed,” he muttered as he stalked through the corridor, a human thundercloud in black robes.

A passing portrait of a noble lady tsked behind her fan and whispered, “Yes you are, dear.”

Then came the final blow.

Charms class.

James passed him a folded scrap of parchment.

Severus opened it slowly.

Inside, in careful writing:

"You looked tired today. Here, I charmed this for you. Don’t tell anyone or I’ll get hexed by McGonagall."

Enclosed was a tiny enchanted paper crane, its wings glowing faintly with magic, singing the softest lullaby Severus had ever heard.

He stared at it.

It blinked.

He blinked back.

Across the room, James pretended to take notes but his thoughts were thunderously obvious:

 “Please like it. Please like it. Please like it. If he tosses it I’ll eat my wand.”

Severus did not toss it.

He very gently tucked it into his sleeve.

And did not stop touching it for the rest of class.

That night, Severus lay in bed, blanket up to his chin, the paper crane softly breathing magic on his bedside table.

He stared at the ceiling and hissed, “Stop. Wooing. Me.”

The crane chirped sweetly in reply.

And from somewhere across the castle:

“I wonder if he’d let me hold his hand again tomorrow.”

Severus pulled the covers over his face.

This was getting dangerous.

Worse?

It was working.

END OF CHAPTER

Chapter Text

By now, Severus had accepted a grim truth:

He was being wooed.

Not metaphorically.

Not vaguely.

Actively.

Relentlessly.

Unknowingly.

By James Potter.

Which was somehow the worst part.

Because James didn’t even realise he was doing it.

There was no smug smirk. No performance. No winks followed by a “gotcha.”

Just… genuine care.

Sincere gestures.

Affection disguised as casual friendship.

And Severus couldn’t exactly say: “Stop bringing me tea and humming my favourite Muggle tunes and looking at me like I hung the stars because I’m developing real feelings and I hate it here.”

So he suffered.

Quietly.

Elegantly.

Dramatically.

Act I: The Picnic

It wasn’t a real picnic.

Technically.

James had simply waved him down by the lake one afternoon and said, “Hey, I was gonna eat out here. You can sit too, if you want. Brought your weird tea.”

He held up a thermos like a peace offering from the heavens.

“He always drinks this blend. Thought maybe… if I have it ready, he’ll stay longer.”

Severus narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

Then sat.

Not because he wanted to.

Certainly not because the honey scone James offered was still warm.

And absolutely not because the tea was steeped perfectly.

“He’s sitting! Play it cool. Act normal. Don’t propose marriage.”

Severus glared at his sandwich and pretended his chest didn’t feel soft.

He also ate everything.

Act II: The Song

(aka “Emotional Damage via Humming”)

Severus had rules. Chief among them: no attention.

So when James casually entered the study room two days later and started humming the exact Muggle tune Severus had been whistling under his breath in a corridor earlier that week—

He froze.

Stone still.

Quill hovering mid-air.

“Stuck in my head ever since. Don’t even know why. It’s warm. Like snow.”

James didn’t even look at him.

Just hummed. Quiet. Happy.

Severus scribbled something aggressive in his notes and underlined it four times:

“I am doomed.”

Act III: The Book

(aka “Read Me Like a Textbook and Ruin Me Emotionally”)

It started innocently.

James borrowed a Potions manual from the library. Severus hadn’t even noticed—until James returned it with the offhand comment:

“Marked the parts I think you’ll want to argue with. Felt like debating.”

Inside were sticky notes.

Actual sticky notes.

Filled with commentary.

Thoughtful, ridiculous, occasionally brilliant commentary. Notes like:

“Snape would hate this theory. But he’d destroy it beautifully.”

“Bet he already knows this better than the author. Still wrote it down just in case.”

“Wanted to see if he’d roll his eyes at page 87.”

Severus didn’t argue.

He just… kept the book.

Longer than he needed to.

Longer than he should have.

Until he couldn’t not reread those notes.

Act IV: The Last Straw

They were walking side by side in the corridor. Not speaking. Not touching.

Just existing.

Then—without thinking—James reached out.

A single hand.

A single motion.

He tucked a loose curl behind Severus’ ear.

No wand. No spell. Just fingertips and quiet intent.

“Perfect. Just needed to see those eyes. I’m ruined.”

Severus blacked out.

Figuratively.

He regained consciousness five seconds later—against the dungeon wall, face hot, heart howling.

He whispered:

“I am being courted by a golden retriever and it’s working.”

END OF CHAPTER

Chapter Text

James Potter had always been confident.

A little loud. A little ridiculous.

But never uncertain.

Until now.

Now he was spiralling so hard he might punch through the floor of Gryffindor Tower just to escape his own feelings.

“Mate,” Sirius said, watching him flop dramatically onto the common room couch for the fourth time that hour, “you’ve been sighing for five straight minutes. Is that even legal?”

James groaned into the cushion.

“I broke him,” he mumbled.

“Who?”

“Severus.”

“…By existing?”

“No. I touched his hair.”

A pause.

Sirius blinked. “Oh no. You touched The Hair.”

Remus closed his book slowly. “The curl behind his left ear?”

James moaned. “Yes. I tucked it back. Like an idiot.”

Peter leaned in. “And?”

James rolled onto his back, wide-eyed. “And he ran. Like I’d slapped him. Or—proposed marriage.”

“I just wanted to see his face better. Now he’s going to hex me into another century.”

And to be fair—

He might’ve been right.

Because Severus was avoiding him.

In a very obvious, highly suspicious, potent-with-guilt kind of way.

He ducked into side corridors. Ate breakfast at odd hours. Slipped into classrooms so quietly it was like he teleported.

When James passed him a note in class, Severus didn’t even read it.

Just calmly, coldly slid it into his bag like it was a cursed object.

And when James tried to greet him at breakfast?

Severus blinked. Once. Slowly. Then whispered, “Disgraceful,” and left the table.

James collapsed back into his seat.

“He hates me,” he whispered.

Remus sighed. “He always looks like that.”

“No,” James said dramatically, hand to his chest. “This is different. This is post-touch ruin.”

Sirius choked on pumpkin juice. “Post-touch ruin??”

“Have you tried just talking to him?” Peter asked helpfully.

James moaned louder.

Meanwhile.

Severus was pacing the Astronomy Tower. Again.

He was unravelled.

Emotionally, spiritually, and probably metaphysically.

He’d let James touch his hair.

Worse—he’d liked it.

“He definitely heard me think PLEASE DO THAT AGAIN like a fool. I’m practically broadcasting my crush into orbit.”

Now every time he looked at James, his body did a full reset. Static in his chest. Brain wiped clean.

He was sure—sure—James could tell.

That he knew.

That he’d figured everything out.

Which made the whole situation ten times worse.

Because James hadn’t done anything wrong.

James had been gentle. Sweet. Careful.

And Severus had fled like a panicked cat.

Because he was terrified.

Because he wanted that hand back.

And that made it all too real.

Later that day, they collided—literally—in a corridor.

Books spilled. Limbs tangled. Time stopped.

They both froze.

“Sorry—”

“Sorry—”

“You okay?”

“Fine. You?”

Silence.

James looked like he was trying very hard not to scare a deer. “Did I do something wrong?”

Severus blinked.

“…What?”

“You’ve been… avoiding me.” James rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just—” he exhaled, fast. “I like you. Not in a weird way—okay, yes, in a weird way—but in the kind of way where I want you to like me back. And I really, really don’t want to ruin that.”

Severus stared.

Hard.

“He doesn’t know. He really doesn’t know.”

James looked like he was bracing for heartbreak. And Severus—stupid, fluttering, softening Severus—

Felt himself crack open a little.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said quietly.

James lit up like the sun.

“Really?”

“He’s smiling. I want to bottle that. Idiot. Gorgeous idiot.”

Severus cleared his throat. “You’re just… a bit much.”

James beamed. “I can work with that.”

END OF CHAPTER 

Chapter Text

In which sitting next to someone becomes a life-altering event and elbows almost count as hand-holding

It started with lunch.

Severus sat beside James in the Great Hall.

Not across from him.

Not one seat over.

Beside.

No words. No eye contact. Just… sat down.

James blinked.

Twice.

Across the table, Sirius dropped his fork. Remus elbowed him and whispered, “Don’t spook him.”

James nodded very slowly, like Severus was a deer and he was holding out an apple made of feelings.

“He sat next to me. He chose to sit next to me. I’m dreaming. Don’t mess this up. Breathe normal. Smile normal. Don’t look like a maniac, oh Merlin—”

Severus bit back a smirk.

He was not enjoying this.

Not even a little.

Then came the library.

They didn’t meet there on purpose.

Except they absolutely did.

And when Severus scooted his chair a little closer—just enough that their elbows nearly touched—

James gasped.

Audibly.

Like he’d been kissed by divine magic.

“Oh my MERLIN elbow proximity. We’re married now. Our wedding is in June. He’ll wear black. I’ll wear a smile.”

Severus aggressively underlined a potion equation to hide the blush crawling up his neck.

It did not work.

It kept happening.

Small things. Unspoken things.

In Herbology, Severus offered James a spare pair of gloves. No comment.

In Charms, he passed him a fresh quill mid-lecture. No eye contact.

In Transfiguration, he slid over a copy of his notes, crisp and colour-coded.

No words.

Just actions.

But the message?

Clear.

He was choosing James.

Quietly. Steadily.

“He’s letting me stay. Letting me in. He wants me around.”

James started bringing Severus his favourite tea before class. Always warm. Always just sweet enough.

Severus accepted it with a slight nod.

Sometimes, when their fingers brushed, he didn’t pull away.

He pretended it meant nothing.

But it meant everything.

One night, they found themselves in the courtyard after curfew, wrapped in cloaks and the quiet of the castle.

The stars overhead were clear.

James leaned back on his hands, hair messy from wind, smile soft. “Do you think the stars are laughing at us?”

Severus looked at him. “At you, maybe.”

“He said you. Not us. He doesn’t deny we’re an us.”

James grinned.

“You like me,” he said gently.

Severus stared, flat. “You’re imagining things.”

James tilted his head, leaning in slightly. “But am I wrong?”

Severus didn’t answer.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t deny it.

 “He’s not running. Not this time. I could just die like this. Happy.”

And Severus?

He didn’t tell him no.

He just stayed looking at the stars for distraction.

END OF CHAPTER

Chapter Text

It wasn’t a date.

Absolutely not.

Severus made that perfectly clear.

James had asked—awkward, hopeful, shoulders slightly raised like he was expecting to be hexed.

“D’you maybe want to… sit by the lake? Tonight? Just to talk?”

Severus had squinted. “Why?”

James had shrugged, very casually. Too casually. “Stars are nice.”

“You’re nice. I like looking at both.”

Severus rolled his eyes and said, “Fine.”

So it wasn’t a date.

It was two classmates. Sitting under the stars. Sharing a blanket. Definitely not flirting.

Absolutely, definitely not flirting.

Nothing to worry about.

At all.

James was already there when Severus arrived.

Of course he was.

He’d laid out a thick plaid blanket. A small enchanted lantern hovered overhead, casting a golden glow like melted candlelight. There was tea. There were biscuits.

There were raspberry ones.

He remembered.

Severus sat beside him without a word, careful not to sit too close.

James didn’t comment.

But his mind was already singing.

“He came. He actually came. Someone restrain me. I need to scream into the lake.”

They drank tea. Watched the stars.

The silence was soft. Comfortable. Warm.

Their shoulders brushed once.

Neither of them moved.

At one point, James leaned back on his elbows and tilted his head toward Severus.

“Sometimes,” he said, “I think I’m not really alive unless you’re around.”

Severus’ breath hitched.

He turned his head, eyes wide.

“You’re being dramatic,” he muttered.

James smiled. “Probably.”

“But also true. So, so true.”

And then—

James held out his hand.

Not pushing.

Not grabbing.

Just open. Waiting.

Severus looked at it.

At the callused palm, the slightly crooked finger from a Quidditch injury. The nerves behind the stillness.

He could hear it:

“If he takes it, I’ll never let go.”

So he did.

He slipped his fingers into James’ hand like they belonged there.

Because maybe they did.

They didn’t speak.

Didn’t need to.

The stars blinked above them.

The blanket was warm.

Their hands stayed locked.

And in James’ head, glowing and loud and soft all at once:

“This is everything. This is everything.”

END OF CHAPTER 

Chapter Text

Severus should have known better.

Holding James’ hand had been a mistake.

Because now, he missed it—more than he cared to admit. He missed the way James’ thumb had absentmindedly traced over his knuckles, like it was instinct. Like Severus mattered.

He’d tried to rationalise it. Told himself it was just the warmth. Just the novelty. Just the rare silence in his head.

But that wasn’t the truth.

Because now, days later, every time James stood a bit too close, or leaned in during class to whisper something just for him, or gave him that look—like he was something important—

Severus couldn’t think straight.

He wanted something. Needed it, even.

But he didn’t know how to ask for it. Didn’t even have the words.

James wasn’t making it any easier.

He kept being… gentle.

Pulling Severus aside quietly before meals just to ask if he’d eaten.

Letting their arms brush during lectures, like it meant nothing. Like it meant everything.

Leaning over whenever that familiar crease appeared between Severus’ brows and murmuring, “You okay?”

“I want to kiss him. Just once. Just to know what it’s like. Would he let me?”

No. Absolutely not.

Severus wouldn’t allow that.

Couldn’t.

But maybe—

And then it happened.

Another late night. The Astronomy Tower. Again.

They’d slipped into a quiet corner after curfew. Not for anything dramatic. Just to sit. To talk. To escape the noise of everyone else.

James had brought a blanket this time. And raspberry biscuits.

Severus took one. Ate it without a word. Pretended he didn’t hear James mutter, “Told you you’d like them,” like he was proud of knowing.

They sat close. Closer than usual. Shoulders pressed, neither of them moving.

Then James shifted slightly. Turned toward him.

And Severus saw the moment his gaze flicked downward.

To his mouth.

“Merlin, if I kissed him now, would he hex me? Would he pull away? Or would he… stay?”

Severus didn’t flinch.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t even breathe.

The space between them was thread-thin. Their noses nearly touched.

And then, in the quietest voice James had ever used, he asked, “Is this okay?”

Severus’ reply was barely audible.

“Yes.”

James leaned in.

Closer.

Closer still—

“WHAT ARE YOU TWO DOING UP HERE?!”

Filch’s voice shattered the moment like glass.

They jumped apart so violently the blanket twisted around James’ legs. The biscuits went flying, scattered across the tower floor like stars. Severus was already halfway to the stairs before he realised he was even moving.

James was right behind him, breathless—laughing.

“I was this close!” he shouted through the chaos.

Severus whirled around, face burning.

“You were going to kiss me!”

“I asked! You said yes!”

“I panicked!”

“You leaned in!”

“I wasn’t thinking!”

“I was,” James thought. “I was thinking about how badly I wanted to.”

They ducked into a hidden corridor, gasping for breath, cheeks still flushed.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then James gave him a crooked grin.

“So… still not a date?”

Severus shoved him hard.

James just laughed, light and unbothered, the happiest Severus had ever seen him.

And maybe—just maybe—Severus didn’t hate that.

Not at all.

END OF CHAPTER

Chapter Text

The only sensible thing to do after nearly kissing James Potter?

Disappear.

Severus executed it flawlessly. He avoided every corridor James usually haunted, shifted his meal times to strange hours, skipped shared classes with uncanny precision. The enchanted paper crane James had folded for him—still fluttering with quiet magic—was tucked away beneath a pile of books in a drawer he refused to open.

He was spiraling.

Because he had wanted that kiss.

Because he had nearly let it happen.

And because that terrified him more than any curse he’d ever studied.

James noticed. Of course he did.

But he didn’t chase.

He gave Severus space. A day. Then another. Then three.

He didn’t corner him. Didn’t demand explanations. He just… waited.

A thermos of warm tea appeared outside the Potions classroom one morning. No note, just a quiet gesture.

Later, tucked inside Severus’ satchel: a slip of parchment, folded carefully.

Still here. Just in case you need me.

No expectations. No questions. Just quiet presence.

“I miss him. But I’ll wait. Even if it hurts. He’s worth waiting for.”

Severus read the note five times.

Then a sixth.

Then clutched it to his chest in the dark and told himself it wasn’t tears.

It was raining when it finally happened.

The courtyard was nearly empty, heavy with grey light and the sound of falling water.

Severus was walking quickly, robes soaked through, hair curling at the edges. The downpour masked everything—his shivering, his thoughts, the ache twisting inside him.

He was almost to the castle doors when someone stepped into his path.

James.

Soaked to the bone, smiling like it was the first day of summer.

“Hey,” he said, breathless.

Severus stared. “You’ll catch a cold.”

“You’ll catch regret if you keep running from me.”

Severus bristled, mouth opening for a retort—but James didn’t stop.

“I’m not angry,” he said, softer now. “I just—I don’t want to be a storm in your life. But I also don’t want to be a cloud you watch pass by.”

Severus faltered.

James looked at him like he already knew the answer.

“I think you’re worth the mess,” he said, gently. “Even if you don’t know what to do with me yet.”

“Gods, I love him,” James thought. “I love him and I haven’t even kissed him properly.”

Severus’ chest felt tight.

And then—without thinking, without hesitating—

He stepped forward.

And kissed him.

It was quick. Certain. Like the decision had already been made long ago.

James stilled in surprise—

Then folded into him with such ease, such joy, it was like the entire world had paused to watch.

When they finally pulled apart, Severus’ face was flushed, rain dripping from his lashes.

James looked completely, utterly luminous.

“Was that… a yes?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Severus leaned in again, resting their foreheads together, heartbeat thudding between them.

“Shut up and hold my hand.”

James laughed—bright and disbelieving—and laced their fingers together like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Best. Day. Ever."

END OF CHAPTER 

Chapter Text

Their first official date wasn’t fancy.

No grand gestures. No rose petals. No enchanted violinists hiding behind tapestries.

It was just them—curled up under the same Astronomy Tower blanket, James’ arm looped around Severus, and a half-eaten bag of raspberry biscuits between them.

The stars above twinkled like they knew exactly how long it took to get here.

Severus hadn’t let go of James’ hand once.

And James?

James was trying very hard not to combust.

 “This is fine. Totally normal. My boyfriend is leaning on my shoulder. We’re sharing a blanket. This is happening. This is—oh, wow, he smells really good—FOCUS.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “You’re thinking too loudly.”

James laughed. “I always think too loudly.”

“You’re lucky I haven’t hexed you for half the things I’ve heard.”

James smirked. “You like them.”

Severus hesitated.

Then: “...Some of them.”

James tilted his head, faux thoughtful. “Which ones?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“I’ll find out.”

“You won’t.”

James leaned in. “You kissed me.”

“I was cold.”

“You held my hand again today.”

“I was cold.”

“You’re cuddled into my side.”

“…Shut up, Potter.”

“He’s perfect. He’s grumpy and warm and perfect and I love him so much I might actually die.”

Severus blinked.

James hadn’t said it out loud.

But the thought landed.

And Severus…

Froze.

James must’ve felt him stiffen, because he instantly backtracked. “I didn’t say anything! I mean—I didn’t mean to think that! I just—it slipped!”

Severus stared at him.

James went pale. “Please don’t throw me off the tower.”

Severus was silent for a long, long moment.

Then, slowly, he buried his face in James’ shoulder.

“I heard,” he mumbled.

James held his breath.

“And?”

“…You think too loudly.”

James almost cried. “But you’re not leaving.”

“No.”

“You’re staying.”

“I’m warm.”

“He’s staying. He’s really staying.”

James grinned so hard it hurt.

And in the quiet, under the stars, Severus whispered into his chest—

“…I might love you too.”

END OF STORY

Chapter Text

Bonus Scene 1: The Explosion of James Potter

It didn’t hit him right away.

Severus had said it softly whilst being tucked into his shoulder, like he's keeping it a secret.

“I might love you too.”

James had held perfectly still. Like a bird might fly away if he breathed wrong. He hadn’t reacted—just smiled like his chest didn’t just explode into a million confetti hearts.

He held it together all the way through the cuddle.

All the way through walking Severus back to the dungeons.

All the way until Severus gave him a rare, tiny smirk and said, “Don’t be annoying about it.”

And James said, “Me? Never.”

“I am going to be so annoying about this.”

Then Severus disappeared into the shadows.

And James...

Exploded.

He sprinted to the Gryffindor common room.

Barged through the portrait like it owed him money.

Landed in the middle of the floor with arms wide open and eyes wild.

Sirius, Remus, and Peter looked up from the couch.

James shouted, “HE LOVES ME. I REPEAT. HE. MIGHT. LOVE. ME.”

Sirius spit butterbeer all over Remus.

Peter dropped his deck of Exploding Snap cards and said, “Is he okay? Should we call Pomfrey?”

Remus blinked. Still covered in butterbeer and dog spit. “Define ‘might’?”

James spun dramatically. “He said—might. But do you know what that means in Severus-language?! That’s basically tattooing my name on his forehead.”

He flopped onto the rug and made snow-angel motions while screaming into the floor.

Sirius walked over, crouched beside him, and asked very seriously, “Do I need to sedate you?”

“HE SAID IT INTO MY SHOULDER, PADFOOT.”

Remus looked mildly impressed. “That’s… actually kind of adorable.”

“I’M ADORABLE.” James sat up, eyes manic. “He loves me. I have to buy flowers. No, a castle. No, an entire mountain range—”

“Or,” Sirius said, patting his head, “you could chill.”

James blinked.

Paused.

Then screamed into a pillow.

 “I HAVE A BOYFRIEND WHO LOVES ME.”

Peter whispered, “Do we throw a party or just… let him burn it out?”

Remus nodded. “Let him combust. He’s earned it.”

Meanwhile, in the dungeons…

Severus sat at his desk, face hidden behind a book, the enchanted crane fluttering beside him.

He muttered under his breath, “He’s going to explode.”

The crane chirped once and nuzzled his wrist.

Severus let the faintest smile curl his lips.

Bonus Scene 2: The Realisation 

It happened weeks into whatever they were.

Long after the almost-kiss.

After the actual kiss.

After the hand-holding, the cuddling, the tea-sharing, the “not-dates” turned dates turned Severus mumbling ‘I might love you too’ into James’ chest.

And James was fine. Floating. Perfectly at peace.

Until—

They were studying together, like usual.

Severus was lounging beside him, book in hand, expression unreadable.

James was doodling in the margins of his notes—hearts, mostly. A doodle of a snake cuddling a lion. A badly drawn version of Severus’ hair labeled “Most Beautiful Disaster.”

Then, James thought:

"I wonder if he knows I call him my moonlight in my head. Too cringe? Probably. But also accurate. Moody, pale, powerful. I’m doomed.”

Severus—without looking up—snorted.

James blinked.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Severus said calmly, turning a page. “Do go on, Moonlight.”

James stared.

Severus did not look up.

James’ whole brain flatlined.

“Wait.”

Silence.

“Wait—WAIT—YOU CAN HEAR ME?!”

Severus slowly closed his book and raised a brow like a professor who had absolutely waited for this moment.

“I was wondering how long it would take you to catch on.”

James’s mouth flapped like a confused fish. “All this time?! ALL THIS TIME?!”

Severus nodded. Sipped his tea. “Since the potion incident.”

James stood up. “YOU MEAN TO TELL ME—”

He flailed.

“Every thought?? Every stupid, simpy, mildly illegal thought I’ve had—”

“Mm.”

“The bit about—about your hair??”

“Yes.”

“The time I imagined us eloping in Spain with matching robes—?”

Severus arched a brow. “I assumed the white ones.”

James wheezed.

Then sat down.

Then stood up again.

Then dramatically flung himself onto the floor.

“I’m going to die,” he declared. “I’m going to wither into a pile of romantic mush and die.”

Severus leaned over and smirked. “You’re not dead.”

“I should be! I called your frown my frown.”

“You did.”

“I THOUGHT ABOUT BEING A PET FERRET JUST TO BE IN YOUR POCKET.”

“You really did.”

James covered his face. “And you let me keep talking?!”

“I was entertained.”

James groaned. “You are cruel.”

Severus smirked again.

“And he’s beautiful when he’s losing it.”

James peeked between his fingers. “You heard that too, didn’t you?”

Severus leaned in close—too close.

“I hear everything, Potter.”

James combusted right then and there....but happily.

END OF STORY (ACTUAL)