Lessons in Flirting || James Potter <33
Summary: After asking James Potter to teach you how to flirt, you spend the afternoon learning his over-the-top techniques. Though he suspects you like someone else, he helps anyway—brooding secretly when you leave to get ready. When you return dressed perfectly, you use his own lessons to confidently ask him out to Hogsmeade, leaving a flustered, grinning James completely smitten. Warning: Fluff, playful teasing, and light romantic tension. Mild brooding; no sexual content. 2k Main masterlist || Navigation
You hesitated outside the Marauder dorm, your hands twisting nervously in your lap. The fire crackled faintly in the common room below, casting a soft golden glow on the stone walls, but all you could think about was James. James Potter. The ultimate show-off. The boy who somehow made everything—wand flicks, grins, even a casual stroll down the hallway—feel dramatic and impossible to ignore.
And right now, you needed him to teach you something utterly mortifying: flirting.
“James…” you called softly as you pushed open the door. He was perched on the edge of his bed, pretending to polish his wand, though his posture screamed boredom. “Can you… teach me how to flirt?”
He froze, wand halfway to his chest. His green eyes blinked, sharp and startled. “Flirt?”
“Yeah,” you said, trying to sound casual. “There’s… someone I want to ask out.”
For a long moment, he said nothing, the air thick with something you couldn’t quite place. Finally, he muttered, “Ah. So… you like someone else.” His voice was quiet, almost too quiet, but there was a hint of something underneath—something like… pain?
“Maybe,” you admitted. “I mean… it’s complicated.”
James let out a sharp breath, running a hand through his messy black hair. For a moment, he looked like he might storm off or say something sharp, but then he straightened, forcing that trademark grin into place. “Fine,” he said theatrically, standing and twirling his wand like a knight brandishing a sword. “If you insist, I shall be your… ultimate wingman. Pay attention, pupil. Today, you learn the ancient and mystical art of charming someone without looking like a complete fool.”
Sirius, lounging on the couch across the room, snorted. “Oh, this I have to see. Potter giving love lessons?”
James shot him a glare, though it faltered just slightly. “Quiet, Black. This is… serious education.”
Remus, ever the voice of reason, peeked over his book. “I think we all know this is going to end in chaos.”
“Silence!” James exclaimed. “Step one: The Smile. It must be confident, alluring, and yet… mysterious. Watch closely.” He tossed his head back, beaming at you like he was the sun incarnate. “Observe: the casual, ‘I’m amazing but I’m letting you look at me’ smile!”
You raised an eyebrow. “That looks… really fake.”
He gasped in mock horror. “Fake?! This is technique, my dear pupil! Observe again.” He paraded across the dorm, grinning in exaggerated angles, then tripped slightly on the edge of his bed and recovered with a flourish. “Flawless recovery is part of the charm!”
You giggled despite yourself, and Sirius howled from the couch. Remus pinched the bridge of his nose.
Step two involved compliments. James launched into a long, over-the-top speech about the perfect compliment: it must be specific, sincere, and delivered with the right amount of bravado. “Notice,” he said, bowing low with a dramatic flick of his wrist, “that a compliment must never sound rehearsed. It must… sparkle. Like a dragon’s tooth in the sun!”
You tried repeating a few of his lines, and he tutted, “No, no! You need to own it. Let your charm ooze naturally, as though it was your destiny to captivate hearts.”
Hours passed in a blur of laughter and dramatic demonstrations. James showed you “do-not” flirting examples, mostly involving exaggerated stares and ridiculous poses, while you tried not to trip over your own feet. Sirius offered commentary, occasionally attempting to imitate James’ gestures in a way that made everyone laugh. Remus just sighed but occasionally gave pointers in his quiet, soft voice, which somehow made the lessons easier to digest.
Through it all, though, you noticed a pattern. James’ jaw would tighten when your hand brushed his accidentally, or when you laughed at someone else’s joke. Sometimes his eyes lingered a little too long, or his grin faltered when you mentioned the other person. You realized, with a small, secret thrill, that he wasn’t just teaching you for the sake of it—he was… worried.
Eventually, you thanked him and excused yourself. “I’m going to get dressed,” you said, cheeks warm, hoping he wouldn’t notice how your stomach fluttered with nerves and something else… something like hope.
The moment the door closed behind you, James slumped onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. He muttered under his breath, almost bitterly, “Why do I feel like she’s looking at him… and not me?” His fingers tangled in his messy hair, and for the first time in hours, the bravado dropped away. His chest tightened with something heavy—jealousy, worry, and longing all wrapped together. Sirius peeked in from the door. “You okay, mate?”
James shot him a glare that didn’t quite land. “I’m fine,” he said, voice low. “Completely fine.”
Sirius smirked knowingly and left, muttering something about hopelessly in love. James didn’t respond. He just sat there, brooding like only James Potter could.
Now, here you were, standing in front of him, heart pounding, fingers fiddling with your hair. You’d carefully applied everything he’d taught you:
Smile: confident, slightly teasing.
Eye contact: steady, warm, with just a hint of mystery.
Compliment: sincere, delivered with subtle charm.
Posture: relaxed, graceful, slightly forward as if the air itself leaned toward him.
He looked up from where he was lounging on the bed, hair messy, green eyes catching the lamplight. “You… wow. You look—” He stopped, flustered, caught off guard.
Perfect. You smiled. “Thanks. You know,” you said, using the smooth tone he had drilled into you, “I think… I’ve learned a lot from you today. About flirting.”
James blinked. “Oh? Really? I… um…” He shuffled, unsure whether to grin or groan.
“Yes,” you continued, leaning just slightly closer, “and I thought maybe… I should put it into practice.” You took a breath, eyes locked on his. “So… would you… like to go to Hogsmeade with me?”
James froze. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “Wait… you’re—” He blinked at you, flustered, and then a grin spread across his face that was equal parts relief and joy. “You… you used my techniques… on me.”
You nodded, tilting your head teasingly. “I figured, if anyone could teach me how to ask someone out, it should be the person I like.”
The blush that crept across his cheeks was almost painful to watch, but oh, it made your chest flutter. “You… wow. That… that’s brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. And I… yes! Definitely, I would love to go to Hogsmeade with you.”
He scrambled off the bed in excitement, nearly tripping over the edge in true James fashion. You laughed, stepping forward to steady him. “Careful, Professor Potter. You’re supposed to be the expert in charm and grace.”
He grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, well… I think you just out-charmed me.”
Sirius, leaning lazily against the doorway, snorted. “Finally. Took you long enough, mate.”
Remus, peeking over his book, gave a small, knowing smile. “I think you did just fine, James.”
James turned back to you, green eyes sparkling with a mixture of pride, love, and disbelief. “Alright then,” he said, taking your hand, “Hogsmeade it is. And I promise… I’ll let you show me all your new… techniques along the way.”
You laughed, entwining your fingers with his as you headed toward the door. James’ grin was unstoppable, almost ridiculous, but perfectly him—your slightly brooding, dramatic, yet utterly soft James Potter.
As you stepped into the hallway together, your heart felt impossibly light. You’d asked him out. You’d used his lessons—and it worked. And now, for the first time, you could see the spark between you both, undeniable and warm, like magic in its purest, silliest, happiest form.
