Clueless Idiots 2 ; James Potter
⇨ f!reader x James Potter
⇨ summary: basically f!reader and james potter being oblivious idiots..again. But this time they kiss..right?
⇨ warnings/notes: use of y/n, fluff, mutual pining, excessive idiocy, professors betting again, Sirius being so done, more background chaos
⇨ a/n: thank you guys so so so much for the support i've gotten in the last few days! literally couldn't be more grateful, i love every single one of you. part 2 as requested, hope you enjoy! Also, feedback really motivated me so if you have something to share please do!
word count: 1.7k
There were a few more constants at Hogwarts:
One: Peeves would never pass up the chance to drop ink on someone carrying parchment.
Two: You could always count on the library fireplace to be too hot or not hot enough.
And three: James Potter still hadn’t confessed to Y/N Y/L/N.
It was nearing midnight, and James couldn’t sleep. His mind wouldn’t shut up. About Quidditch, about NEWTs, but mostly about the way Y/N had looked at him earlier.
Like she knew.
Or didn’t. Which somehow made it worse.
He gave up and padded out of the dormitory, barefoot, hair a mess. He wasn’t expecting company in the common room.
But there she was.
Sitting on the windowsill, knees pulled to her chest, the firelight glowing soft against her face. Hair loose, wrapped in a blanket.
She turned her head. "You couldn’t sleep either?"
His chest tugged. "Yeah. Figured I’d come down here and pace like a madman."
She smiled, small and sleepy. "Or you could sit."
He sat beside her, shoulder brushing hers.
For a moment, they just looked out the window.
"Do you ever wish we had Astronomy this year?" she asked.
James raised a brow. "Since when do you like Astronomy?"
"Since I figured out Orion is shaped like a really dramatic bloke showing off his belt."
He laughed, low and tired. "That is literally the point of Orion."
"What’s your favorite constellation?"
He blinked. "Er... I dunno. Maybe Canis Major. Big dog."
"Of course it is."
"Hey, it’s loyal. Follows Orion everywhere."
She hummed. "Mine’s Lyra. The harp."
He tilted his head. "That tracks. You’re all poetic and stuff."
"Not poetic. Just... curious. It used to be a turtle."
He blinked. "What?"
She laughed. "The Greeks thought the first lyre was made from a turtle shell. It became a constellation after Orpheus died."
"So... music, loyalty, tragedy. Sounds like a Hogwarts afternoon."
She nudged his shoulder. "Don’t be dramatic."
"You just compared stars to death."
"You brought up dogs."
"Touché."
Time passed like honey. Slow and warm.
They fell into a lull, the silence comfortable.
Then, softly:
"Do you ever think about after Hogwarts?" she asked.
James swallowed. "Yeah. All the time."
"What do you think you’ll do?"
He shrugged, staring out the window. "Auror, maybe. I want to help. I want to make it better."
She nodded. "You’d be good at that."
"You think?"
"You care too much not to be."
He glanced at her. Her hair was half in her face. His hand itched to tuck it behind her ear.
Again.
But he didn’t.
"What about you?" he asked.
She leaned back against the window. "I want to write. About real things. Real people. Maybe travel for a bit."
"Travel where?"
"Everywhere. France. Greece. That island where the firecrabs sunbathe."
He smiled. "You mean Fiji."
"Do I?"
"You do."
She smiled back, then yawned.
Without thinking, he pulled the blanket more around her.
"Thanks," she mumbled, eyes half-lidded.
She rested her head on his shoulder.
He froze.
Then slowly, cautiously, he let his head rest against hers.
James was scared to take a breath, he really didn't want her to move her head.
When Remus came down for tea at dawn, he nearly dropped his cup.
James was on the couch. Y/N was on top of him. His arms were wrapped around her waist; her face buried in his chest. Both fast asleep.
..
Back in the staff lounge, McGonagall adjusted her spectacles.
"I hear Mr. Potter and Miss Y/L/N fell asleep in each other’s arms."
Slughorn chuckled. "A very compromising position, I’m told."
Sprout grinned. "New bet: who confesses first, now that they’ve practically napped their way into a relationship?"
McGonagall smirked. "My money's still on her."
..
The sun rose on Gryffindor Tower with the kind of golden softness reserved for early autumn mornings, and the Common Room was quiet.
Except for the hushed snickers.
James woke up to a tickle against his cheek and the very distinct feeling that something—or someone—was lying across his chest. And that he, very stupidly, had an arm slung securely around them.
“Merlin’s saggy balls,” came Sirius’s voice, somewhere above.
James groaned.
Y/N stirred.
She blinked up at him. “Why are you—why am I—why are we—”
“Why are you both literally spooning on the Common Room couch?” Lily supplied helpfully, crossing her arms with a knowing smirk.
Remus, sipping his tea behind them, raised an eyebrow. “Comfortable?”
James scrambled up. “I—It’s not—we were talking about constellations.”
Y/N smacked his chest lightly. “Don’t make it sound weirder.”
Sirius pointed to the small blanket still tangled around their legs. “You both fell asleep. Cuddled like a pair of puffskeins.”
Remus looked deadly serious. “This is a violation of the forty-eight-hour deadline I issued.”
“What deadline?” Y/N asked, rubbing her eyes.
“To kiss. To confess. To do something,” Remus deadpanned.
“You hexed us?” James looked betrayed.
“I threatened to. Still might.”
Behind them, a voice chimed from the portrait hole. “Ah, young love.”
McGonagall.
Everyone froze.
She gave them a long, knowing look, eyes twinkling. “Five points from Gryffindor for inappropriate use of the Common Room. And five points to Gryffindor… for finally making progress.”
“Finally?” Y/N squeaked.
McGonagall just smirked and left.
—
Word traveled fast.
By lunch, someone had drawn a very accurate sketch of James and Y/N asleep on the couch and tacked it to the Gryffindor bulletin board under the title THE CHOSEN ONES.
By dinner, Slughorn cornered Y/N and casually asked if she'd like to bring James to his next Slug Club gathering "as her plus one." When she choked on her pumpkin juice, he just chuckled knowingly.
At bedtime, Marlene had had enough.
“Y/N,” she said sternly, hands on her hips, “this is getting pathetic. If you don’t make a move, I swear I will lock the two of you in a broom cupboard with only one pillow and unresolved sexual tension.”
Dorcas leaned on the bedpost. “It’s like watching a romance novel in slow motion.”
“I like slow motion,” Y/N protested.
Lily tossed a pillow at her. “This isn’t slow motion. This is emotional molasses.”
—
Meanwhile, James was pacing.
“Padfoot,” he said, running a hand through his hair for the sixth time in three minutes. “What if I messed everything up?”
“You mean by spooning your crush in public and then still not confessing?”
Peter squirmed. "Don't say crush, it makes it sound like he's thirteen."
James groaned. “I panicked. She looked so peaceful. And I—”
“You what?” Sirius pressed.
“I almost kissed her.”
“YOU WHAT—”
Remus chucked a book at Sirius. “Indoor voices.”
James collapsed on his bed. “I’m an idiot.”
“You’re our idiot,” Peter offered.
“I don’t deserve her.”
“No,” Remus agreed. “But you have her. You just don’t know it yet.”
—
Two days passed.
Nothing changed. Not really.
Except now when James tucked her hair behind her ear, everyone screamed internally. When Y/N offered him a bite of her treacle tart, two Hufflepuffs bet ten Galleons on a Christmas confession. When they accidentally brushed hands in Herbology, Professor Sprout nearly cheered.
It was becoming a school-wide crisis.
And they were on the eye of the tornado.
—
One evening, James found himself back in the Common Room, late again, just like that night.
Y/N was there. Of course she was.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked softly.
She looked up from her book. “Not a wink.”
He flopped beside her, their knees bumping. “You know what Sirius said to me today?”
“What?”
“That we’ve gone from Clueless Idiots to Catastrophic Morons.”
She snorted. “Honestly? Fair.”
A beat of silence.
“Y/N?”
“Hmm?”
“What if I said I like you?”
She turned, slowly. “Then I’d say it’s about time.”
His breath caught. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
And then—
Finally.
She leaned in, and he met her halfway.
It wasn’t perfect. It was a little clumsy, a little breathless, but it was theirs.
And when they broke apart, cheeks flushed and hearts racing, Y/N whispered:
“Took you long enough, Potter.”
He grinned. “I’m still getting us that Honeydukes window.”
“Especially the sugar quills?”
“Especially the sugar quills.”
—
The next day it was a quiet, peaceful Wednesday morning.
Well, until Peeves found out.
“THEY KISSED! THEY KISSED!” he bellowed at the top of his ghostly lungs, cartwheeling through the Great Hall mid-breakfast. “JAMES AND Y/N IN THE COMMON ROOM, SNOGGING LIKE LOVESICK FLUFFY GNOMES!”
James nearly dropped his toast. Y/N choked on her pumpkin juice. Lily patted her on her back.
“WE HAVE WITNESSES!” Peeves sang, doing loops around the enchanted ceiling. “KNEES TOUCHING! EYES SPARKLING! AND A SCANDALOUS FOREHEAD KISS, OH MY!”
“Peeves—!” James hissed, red as a Gryffindor banner.
Y/N slapped a hand over her face. “I hate everything.”
Sirius was howling with laughter. Remus had calmly pulled out his wallet. “I believe this means I win the side bet about it not happening in a broom closet.”
“DO YOU, MISS Y/N, TAKE THIS MESS OF A MAN TO BE YOUR LAWFULLY OBLIVIOUS HUSBAND?” Peeves hollered, throwing confetti made of shredded homework.
Peter leaned in, whispering, “You did kiss him, right?”
Y/N glared. “Not that it’s any of your business, but—yes.”
James stared at her and smiled.
"What? Do I have something on my face?" Y/N asked.
"Nothing, you're just gorgeous, love." He said, followed by a couple of playful groans of his friends and the stares of a lovesick y/n.
“Oh my Merlin,” Marlene muttered, rubbing her temples. “I’m moving schools.”
Above them, Peeves looped the final loop, pausing dramatically midair before screaming:
“THEY KISSED, THEY KISSED, THEY BLOODY WELL—FINALLY—KISSED!”
And Hogwarts, once again, erupted into cheers, catcalls, and the sound of one exasperated McGonagall muttering into her tea, “About bloody time.”
Flitwick clapped politely from his seat, beaming. “They make such a charming couple.”
Slughorn chuckled, already scribbling their names into a guest list for a hypothetical future wedding. “Ah, young romance—always knew James had it in him.”
Sprout wiped a tear. “I feel like I’ve just watched the finale of my favorite romance drama.”
And Dumbledore, of course, simply twinkled behind his spectacles. “Love, as always, finds a way—even if it takes a little extra chaos.”
McGonagall cleared her throat, hand outstretched.
“Pay up, Pomona.”
Sprout groaned and dug into her robes, fishing out a pouch of Galleons. “Worth every Knut,” she muttered.
Slughorn handed over a few sickles to a smug-looking Flitwick, who waved his tiny hand triumphantly.
“I told you it wouldn’t take until Christmas,” he said.
Somewhere in the back, Binns floated through a wall just to mutter, “I had June,” before vanishing again
—
THE END… probably.
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