James Potter waking up and looking down in delicate confusion at the pretty redhead in his bed. Confusion at how this smart young man has fallen into love and into bed with him. Him. He can't believe it most day, when he'll look up and see sunlight catching red curls, when blue eyes will turn to him, contemplating James with an oh so serious expression. He can't believe it, when pale freckled skin is under his rough calloused palms, when that sweet, mouth is parted in a rushed mumble of his name.
















