'breaking all my bones, just to hold you close... tearing off my skin, just to let you in' - faouzia
cw: NSFW 18+, dark!james potter, cheating, stalking, manipulation, fighting, murder, drinking/drunk sex, unprotected p in v (james/reader, james/lily), mention of sexual harrassment/unwanted touching, james and reader are childhood best friends, i play with timeline/pov a lot in this
5.6k words
james potter masterlist
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please read part one here
age 12
There’s an old grandfather clock in the kitchen. You’ve walked by it hundreds of times, and even into it once when you were a toddler, resulting in a large goose egg in the middle of your forehead. When you’re standing in front of it, the ticking is comforting; you can watch the hands ‘tick tick tick’ away in their constant, steady rhythm. Now though, the sound of the ticking, even echoed this far down the hallway, only makes you feel worse.
You tug the blankets up to cover everything but your eyes, your pupils focused straight forward ahead of you in the darkness. James lays next to you, his body warm and limp, having fallen asleep a while ago. You keep your leg pressed firmly to his side, the only thing that’s giving you any sense of safety and comfort. You hope your trembling doesn’t wake him. You’ve been trying to inch your way closer and closer without waking him up, and though your efforts have proven successful thus far, it doesn’t mean they will continue to be.
There’s a shadow in James’ closet. You don’t know how long it’s been there, or even if it’s been there the entire time you’ve been laying here. You’d been drifting off when something forced your eyelids apart, and a movement in the darkness caught your attention. Now, you can’t look away, because the thing hasn’t moved. It’s still in James’ closet.
You press closer again, your heart stuck in your throat, and James stirs. You freeze, and he shifts under the covers with a soft groan.
“Jamie,” You whisper, quiet enough not to wake him if he’s still sleeping. “Jamie. Are you awake?”
If you were watching, you’d see the way his shoulders shift, the sheet falling down his arm as he turns. He rubs at one eye with the heel of his palm, his eyebrows furrowing together as he opens his eyes in the darkness, turning toward you.
“What?” His raspy voice is full of sleep as he sits up a bit. You still don’t look at him, eyes focused on the shadow, the way it stares back at you from the darkness of his closet.
“There’s something in your closet…” You whisper, fear evident in the way your voice shakes. James fully sits up now, his eyes following where yours are focused. The closet. There’s a long moment of silence where you feel him shifting closer to you and he sighs.
“There’s nothing there. Go back to sleep.” He flops back onto his side with a grunt, facing you this time, tugging the blankets up to his shoulders. You stay frozen in your spot, and after a long while where you don’t move, he speaks again. “What?”
“There’s a monster in your closet, Jamie.” Your whisper is harsher this time, your knee knocking into his thigh roughly. You hate the way he dismisses your fear, even if it might be irrational. You’ve been learning about all kinds of horrifying creatures hidden in the dark fringes of the wizarding world at Hogwarts, is it that hard to believe that one might have gotten into his closet?
James groans loudly, and half sits up. He grabs a pillow, the muscles in his hands flexing as he yanks his arm back and throws the pillow toward the closet. It lands with a thud.
“See?” He says with a huff, once again flopping back into position. “Nothing.”
You still don’t move, eyes still locked in. Because James couldn’t see his target and he missed, the thing still standing right next to the door, menacingly. You imagine all of the terrifying ways it could look, most of it shrouded in darkness.
You stay silent for a long time. Long enough for James to fall asleep, but you whisper his name again anyway.
“Jamie-”
“There’s nothing there!” He groans and buries his face in his pillow, clearly annoyed by your anxiety. “And even if there is something there, it would have killed you already if it wanted to.”
You shift uneasily. His words make sense, but your paranoia isn’t one you think you can just shake off. James tugs you down next to him, cutting off your line of sight with the closet.
“If it’s still there in the morning, I think you should make friends with the monster.” James tells you as he wraps his arm around your waist and tugs you closer. “That’ll make it less scary anyway. But for now, I’ll protect you. So stop talking, and go to sleep.”
You know his words are just to shut you up, but you can’t deny that they make you feel a little better. You let yourself relax, staring at the ceiling until eventually your eyes fall closed on their own, unconsciousness overtaking you.
When you wake up in the morning, you find there is no monster in the closet.
The shape you saw is gone, though.
age 14
You stare at yourself in the mirror for a long time. The dress is pretty, your hair looks nice, and Mary’s talent with makeup has you basically unrecognizable.
But you don’t really feel that way.
Your eyes trace through the room until they land on Lily. She looks stunning, though you wouldn’t have expected any less from her. You were surprised when she agreed to go to the Yule Ball with James, and evidently he was too, given he gaped at her for at least a minute before his brain seemed to catch up.
You’ve never seen him beam so bright.
It makes you feel a little sick.
“You alright, love?” Mary asks, coming around the corner and looking over you to make sure her work is acceptable. She must deem it so, as she nods with a soft smile until she sees your face. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” You say with a wave of your hand. All of you make your way down to the common room, waiting for the boys and giggling as you wonder what the evening in front of you might hold.
Your heart stops when you see James in his dress robes. The two of you lock eyes and for a moment it’s like the world stops. The moment is only broken when Lily steps between you.
“James,” You hear her tone, already scolding him, “You were supposed to wear a tie that matches my dress.” You glance at his tie, only to find your breath catching once again.
His tie doesn’t match Lily’s dress, it matches your dress. Lily transfigures his tie to match the color of hers. James makes eye contact with you over Lily’s shoulder, and you don’t know how to feel about the look on his face.
Lily blows him off early into the evening. Your date doesn’t show up. The two of you end up side by side, like always, sitting off together at the edge of the Great Hall, talking and laughing, occasionally letting James embarrass you on the dance floor.
You transfigure his tie back to its original color to match your dress again. He tells you he’d been planning to match with you the entire time, not expecting Lily to say yes when he asked her to go with him.
You don’t ask him how he knew the color of your dress.
age 15
The kiss is… mediocre at best, and that’s if you’re being kind. The boy in front of you seems to slobber on you more than actually kiss you, and his wandering hands aren’t feeling as welcome as you thought they might. One of them slides under your skirt, a bit too high up your thigh, and you find yourself tensing instead of relaxing into it the way you think you should.
“Lestrange-” You say, your hand moving to his chest to try and push him away. He doesn’t seem to get the hint, his hand sliding even further up to squeeze at the fat of your bum. You cringe, trying once again to push him away. “Stop.”
“What the bloody hell is your problem?” He asks with a sneer, running a hand through his hair. “You brought me up here to shag, and now you want me to stop?”
“I didn’t bring you up here to shag.” You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. You hate the way your cheeks heat, and a tinge of shame and embarrassment begins to build in your gut. “I brought you up here to talk. For a date.”
“Which means you want to shag.” Lestrange rolls his eyes. “Everyone knows that!”
You shake your head, your eyes burning now as you look out past the edge of the astronomy tower, hoping the stars will stop your tears from forming. They don’t.
“Well, I don’t want to shag.” You tell him, stepping back fully away from him now and fixing your skirt. “I want you to go, actually.”
“Fuck this.” Lestrange practically spits at you, “Fuck you, bitch.”
“Hey!” A voice shouts from the darkness back in the halls, a shadow approaching from seemingly out of nowhere. You recognize his figure the closer he gets. James.
“She said she wants you to leave.”
“Stay out of this, Potter. You aren’t her keeper.” Lestrange reaches for your hand and you tug it back before he can grab it, a look of disgust taking over your face.
“No, but I am her best friend. So fuck off, Lestrange.” James reaches for you this time, his callused palm wrapping around your wrist and tugging you toward him. You go willingly, finding your spot by his side, just like you always do.
The other boy must decide the fight is not worth it, the dark, fiery look in James’ eyes intimidating enough to have him shaking his head and sauntering off down the hallway. You hate the way you can feel your body trembling, and it’s quiet for a moment before James turns toward you, his palm moving to cup your cheek.
“Are you alright?” He asks, the pad of his thumb brushing over your cheekbone, touching a few of the lashes on your lower eyelid.
You nod, slow and unsure. “Yeah, I’m okay.” Your voice is a little shaky, and your knees feel a little weak. “I’m just… embarrassed, I guess.” You admit softly. You watch as his brows furrow, his other hand finding your lower back and pulling you closer.
“Why?” James asks, his voice low and comforting, and he shakes his head a few times, curls bouncing against his forehead. “I don’t think you have anything to be embarrassed about.”
“I-” You try to swallow down the thick lump that feels stuck in your throat, but you can’t. You bite your tongue, hating the way a tear falls from your tear duct and down your cheek. James wipes it away. “I just feel like… I threw my first kiss away.”
James is silent for a while, seemingly unsure about what to say. He tugs you closer, hugging you to him and tracing comforting circles over your back.
“We could fix it.” He says eventually, his cheek pressed against yours so neither of you have to look at each other.
“What?” Your voice cracks and it makes you even more embarrassed. You try to pull away but his grip tightens on you, keeping you pressed against him.
“I can… I can make it better for you.” He says, and he slowly pulls back enough for the two of you to make eye contact. His eyes are dark and half-hooded, his thumb moving below your chin to tilt your jaw up toward him. His lips hover close enough that you can feel the heat of them against your own. If you wet your lips with your tongue, it is likely it would brush his lips too.
“Jamie-”
“I mean it,” He says, and something in his eyes softens. “You deserve a good first kiss, from someone who wants to kiss you because they like you, not because they want to shag.”
“Are you saying you like me, Jamie?” You ask, hoping a bit of teasing might ease some of the electric tension between the two of you. You’ve been this close before, and in less clothes considering you’ve slept in bed with him a hundred times by now. Something about this is different though, almost overwhelming.
“I love you.” He says, eyes dropping to your lips. You believe him, because you know it’s true. You love him too.
So, you nod, and you let him kiss you. It’s everything you could ever hope for, like soaring on a cloud. It’s fireworks, and hot chocolate, and a bright spring day all at once.
You don’t think to ask James how he knew you were up here, how he knew you were on a date, or where he came from.
age 21
James fumbles with the key, glancing up and down the street as he jiggles the lock, cursing under his breath. It’s dark, and he hopes that the cover of the night is enough to stop anyone from seeing him. He purposely wore dark clothes, but if someone sees him, he thinks he’s screwed regardless.
James hates locks, and entering your flat the muggle way was not his first choice. He doesn’t know when your fireplace opens to the floo network and he couldn’t risk you getting here and placing your wards before he can.
He walks around your new apartment, stepping slowly through every room and memorizing the floorplan. He imagines where you’ll put all your furniture, how cute everything will look once you have it arranged. The monster stirs low in his gut, urging him on.
He lifts his wand with a sigh, quietly placing wards as he walks from room to room again, ones to allow himself to enter undetected. He knows you’ll put up your own protection wards when you move in, and he’ll encourage it. He just… wants to be able to come in and out without you being notified.
He places wards to notify him if anyone else enters your apartment, too. He wants to be here instantly if you need him, and he would be. He’d drop anything if you needed him.
He makes sure to lock the door again on his way out, taking his time before he starts making his own way back home.
He’ll be back tomorrow, wanting to watch you move in. He’ll bring his cloak, staying close by just in case you need him.
And truly, James thinks, you’ll always need him. So he’ll always find a way to be there.
present day
James folds up his cloak, hiding it on the top shelf of the coat closet behind the hats like he always does. He can hear Lily moving around in the kitchen, and after a long breath, he moves through the living room to greet her.
“Hello, love.” He says, stepping up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. Lily smiles softly, turning to press a gentle kiss to James’ lips. His brain flashes back to every time he’s kissed you and he pulls away from her with a clearing of his throat. “What are you making?”
“Chicken, and some other things,” She says, gesturing toward the spoons stirring themselves on the stove, something cooking in the oven. Lily insists on cooking with a half-witch, half-muggle method. Part of James finds it endearing. The same part that wishes it were enough.
Instead, he hums, and pulls back from her to lean against the counter. The two of them exchange small talk, like usual, and then settle into a comfortable silence. Or, James hopes it feels comfortable. They’re interrupted by a telltale tapping at the window, and when James rounds the corner into the living room, he sees your owl outside his window. He smiles, quickly making his way over to take the parchment from the familiar bird, giving him a treat and a light head pat before he flies away.
Lily still speaks with him from the kitchen, her voice raised enough for him to hear it. He shouts back, his eyes tracing over the letter, only for Lily to suddenly go silent. James looks up from the loopy script to see her head poke around the corner, a look on her face that has James’ stomach sinking.
“What did you call me?” She asks, her fire-red curls bouncing as she takes another step into the living room. James reels, trying to remember what he’d said. He’d been half-paying attention, eyes scanning over your letter. He’d been thinking about you, and-
Oh. He’d said your name when he meant to say hers.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Lily!” He plays it off, maybe a bit dramatically. He lifts the letter in his hand, closing the distance between them and wrapping his free arm around his waist. Anything to get that look off her face. “She sent me this letter, and I wasn’t paying attention.”
“She sent you a letter?” Lily looks distraught for a different reason now, reaching to take the parchment from his fingers. James lets her, because there’s nothing in that letter she can’t see. It’s a plea for you to help him secure your apartment, your unease and paranoia only growing over the last several weeks since you and James had talked the last time. He watches her read it, and he sees the way her shoulders relax a bit.
There’s no mention of the night the two of you spent together, of the way you’d cried out for him in the darkness while he groaned your name.
LIly is distant from him for the rest of the day, but she eventually agrees to let James visit you. She says it, low and unsure, when the two of them are tangled together in the darkness. She doesn’t see the way James beams, doesn’t feel the way his heart speeds up, can’t sense the way the monster stirs again.
“It’s just to make sure she’s safe,” James pulls Lily closer, trying to reassure her in the darkness. “After that, we probably won’t even see each other again, you know?”
It’s the biggest lie James has ever told Lily, and he’s told her so many he doesn’t even remember them all.
There’s obviously nothing in your flat. James has been there enough times over the past several months that he would know instantly if something was amiss or awry. You don’t know that though, obviously.
You’re grateful for him now, having someone to check around for you.
“I know it’s… been a while,” You greet him awkwardly, your hair a bit messy and your eyes a bit frantic as you stand in front of him. “But I couldn’t- Something has been going on here, and I needed someone else to come and check it out. And…” You look away from him pointedly, thinking your words through before deciding to finish your sentence. “I trust you, Jamie.”
“Of course I’ll check it out for you, angel. You know you can always ask me.” He smiles at you so carefree, it automatically sends some warmth through you. You follow him around as he moves from room to room, hovering right at his back.
He casts a few extra wards for you that are intended to make you feel better. He’ll stop coming over now, or at least he’ll stop messing with your things. Now that the two of you are talking again, there won’t be a need for him to sneak around anymore.
You both linger longer than you should on the goodbye. He takes you in his arms, wrapping himself around you tightly like he might be able to absorb you inside himself. He wishes he could, like he could carry you around forever, wrapped within the warmth of him. Tucked right beside the monster. Though, he thinks if you were ever inside him, a part of him, with all the good that you are, the monster would never have been there to begin with.
“I missed you.” You whisper against his shoulder, your fists clutching at the back of his shirt. The monster seems to awaken, just the smallest hint of your attention and it ignites again.
“I missed you too.” James whispers back, and you don’t pull away when he presses his lips to yours.
This time when he fucks you, it isn’t rough. It isn’t fire, burning through his veins and tearing down everything he thought he loved and needed, the facade he worked his whole life to put up. This time it is slow, the connection of two souls who know each other better than anyone else. You hold him like you’d cradle the darkest part of him, no matter what the black hole within him wants to devour, what the monster wants to destroy. Or maybe James just wants to believe that.
The softness ends with your orgasm, though. Once your body stops trembling, your sweat dried up, you turn cold again. You clear your throat and ask him to leave, getting dressed and handing him his clothes without so much as another hug.
He chooses not to think much of it, kissing your cheek while the two of you stand in front of the fireplace.
“I’ll see you, yeah?” He says with a shrug of his shoulder, stomach churning at the way you seem like you can’t meet his eyes again.
“Yeah.” You clear your throat, handing him the jar of floo powder. “See you around.”
James can’t stay away from you for long. He never can.
He makes it a regular part of his routine to check on you. Not to scare you anymore, you’ve broken the seal and reached out to him already. He wants you to feel safe now that he’s come back around.
He wants to make sure you’re alright, that you’re happy. And he wants to see you.
So, the cloak comes back on and he finds himself “visiting” you more days than not. You never notice him, the flicker of the air where his cloak shimmers as he shifts in the corner of the room. You seem content, and he watches as the dark circles under your eyes start to fade, and the tension in your shoulders falls away. You seem to brighten, settling in, becoming yourself again. James loves it, watching you bloom even without your knowledge.
His joy doesn’t last long.
He expects you to run back into his arms, attach yourself to his side again like you used to. He expects for you to invite him over again, to continue to keep in touch, even with letters. But there’s nothing. You don’t contact him again, and James eventually figures out it’s guilt that’s eating at you. You feel guilty for sleeping with him while he’s dating Lily, even if you don’t consider yourself friends with the Marauders anymore.
James knows he should feel guilty for sleeping with you, but he doesn’t. The monster consumed his guilt long ago.
You don’t run to James. You make friends with your coworkers in Diagon Alley, with some of the regular customers. You ignore James when he reaches out, letter after letter disregarded for plans with people James has never even seen before, only the names and times listed in your planner.
His plan didn’t work.
He reels. That’s never happened before. The monster roars, demanding to get closer, demanding more. More from you, more from him, more of everything. He feels it in every breath, in every movement, and he has to continue on living with a straight face like he isn’t being ripped apart from the inside.
You aren’t home the next time he apparates into your flat. He already knew that, though the lack of movement when he arrives is reassuring, as is the way the wards tell him he’s the only one there. He brought flowers, though now he’s not sure how he’ll explain himself later if you ask him why you hadn’t been alerted he’d stopped by. He’ll figure something out.
He places them in a vase, writing you a little note and puts them on your counter. He didn’t bring his cloak.
He takes a look around. Not much has changed since the last time he was here, though you got new bedding. He’s not surprised, chuckling to himself.
As he turns to leave your bedroom, something catches his eye. Your planner lays open on your desk, turned to this week. There’s a large, red heart surrounding Friday, and words that have his heart stopping in his chest.
‘date with noah <3’ you’ve written.
Who the fuck is Noah?
James apparates away before he can crash out and destroy your apartment. He ends up at the Quidditch pitch despite it being the off-season, but even hours of anger-fueled flying don’t manage to calm him.
He spends all week frustrated and planning. If Lily notices that he distances himself even further, she doesn’t say anything out loud. They barely talk outside of the bedroom, and if James closes his eyes and takes his frustrations out on Lily, hips pounding into her ruthlessly, he’ll never admit that out loud either.
When Friday comes around, James has gone through so many possible scenarios in his head, he truly thinks the worst. He’s convinced himself that this Noah character is some kind of… demon, a man whose only goal is to get in your pants, to take all of your light, to destroy you. James is not going to let that happen.
He stands across the street, on the side of the building one over from yours. He’s wearing the same dark outfit he wore the first time he entered your apartment.
The monster tears through him. He picks at the skin of his fingernails, eyes drilled in on the front of your flat. He doesn’t flinch when he digs the skin raw, when he starts to bleed. He flinches when you open the door and smile at Noah like he’s hung the sun.
You’re supposed to be the sun, the center of the universe, why are you looking at this… boy like that. He doesn’t know you, he doesn’t know how to take care of you. Not like James does.
He doesn’t know how long he stands across the street, but he waits until the sun goes down to make his move. He crosses the road with long, purposeful strides, but apparates inside with a light ‘pop’ when he gets too impatient to dig the key out of his pocket.
He doesn’t have his cloak, opting instead to wait in a nook in your living room. If he were clearer headed, he would realize the implication of what he’s doing, but all he sees is red.
He wants to collect your bones and carry them in his pocket so he’ll know they’re always safe. He wants to devour each inch of your skin so that he might have any sort of piece of you inside of him forever. He can’t think straight, he can only think of you.
The door opens with a creak as Noah pulls you inside. James can smell the alcohol on you both from all the way across the living room, his eyes watching you through the darkness. There’s a sick pull in his stomach when his wards signal to him that someone else came into your flat, and even though he’s watching it first-hand, the feeling makes him feel significantly worse. You don’t seem affected, though. You giggle, stumbling over your feet as you try to take off your shoes.
Noah kisses you sloppily and James hears a crack that he thinks might be his tooth when he clenches his jaw again. Noah’s hands travel to all of the places they shouldn’t without a single care for the way you should be cherished, be worshipped. Neither of you see James, too wrapped up in your drunken rendezvous to notice the extra set of eyes following you.
James doesn’t follow the two of you upstairs. Hearing the sounds of Noah’s groans from his place here is already enough to have him seeing a red so deep he no longer remembers himself. It looks like blood.
He follows Noah outside silently when he leaves a few hours later. He waits until the two of them are in a darker area, less homes around. He gets angrier with each step, Noah’s swagger and dumb fucking chuckles to himself give James enough fuel to justify what he’s about to do.
The monster takes over, and Noah doesn’t stand a chance.
James doesn’t come back to his senses until cold water douses his head. He gasps in air like he’s been drowning, blinking rapidly as he tries to make sense of what is going on.
There’s blood. There’s so much blood, diluted mixtures of red and pink dripping down the drain. His hands and forearms are covered in scratches and scrapes, and there’s a spot on his cheek he is sure will be bruised when he looks in the mirror. He recognizes the tile of his own bathroom, in the flat he shares with Lily. He stands under the water for a long time, turning it hot enough to burn his skin.
He doesn’t know if the red is from the blood or from the scalding hot water. It doesn’t matter. He keeps scrubbing and scrubbing until all he can see is the red, until all of his skin is raw and burning.
Lily’s already asleep when he slides in bed beside her. He’s glad, he doesn’t think he could speak even if he wanted to.
When he wakes up the next morning, he feels lighter than he has in a long time. Maybe even lighter than after the first time he fucked you.
Lily notices. It’s impossible not to. He’s brighter than he’s been since Hogwarts, his movements happy-go-lucky as he moves about his day. He’s more affectionate than normal, though his eyes are distant, looking through her instead of at her.
Lily tries not to think much of it. Until she has to.
The two of them are tangled together, James’ fingers intertwined with her own. Her legs are wrapped around his hips, his face buried in her neck, his hips rocking into her again and again. It’s the most passionate he’s been in a while, his free hand guiding her hips against his own and his lips pressing long, open kisses over the skin of her neck.
“James,” She moans, the hand not intertwined with his tangling in his dark curls. She tugs at them, her back arching as he pounds into her.
“Call me Jamie,” He tells her, voice deep and raspy as he shifts his mouth to the other side of her neck, using his chin to move her jaw where he wants it.
Lily is quiet for a moment, hesitant, but when the hand that was on her hip slides between her thighs to rub at her clit, her hesitation vanishes.
“Jamie,” She cries out, the unfamiliar nickname not sounding right coming off of her tongue. James groans, a deep rumble from low in his chest, and presses into her faster, harder. Lily cries out, no longer even able to call him anything intelligible at this point. She comes with a loud whine, sobbing and clenching around him.
James comes with a moan of your name.
Lily screams at him. None of his excuses land, though there’s truly no excuse he can give, because she’s right. Lily cries, she throws things at him, she accuses him of cheating.
“You were thinking about her!” Lily grabs some of his shirts from the closet, tossing them at him with a fierceness she thought had fully disappeared. “You always are! I know you fucked her, James!”
He can’t deny it, so he doesn’t.
“Lily, there’s no need for all this!” He tries to calm her down as she digs through his things, tearing through them and throwing them everywhere. He’s given up on trying to collect them or clean them up.
“I don’t want to hear it, James!” Lily stands tall, wiping at her face. “I’ve forgiven you far too many times. I’ve had hope that I’ll be the one you choose, even when you tell me I’m not. I can’t do this again.”
“Lily-” He tries to reach for her, but she flinches out of his grip. She looks at him, and there’s no love left in her eyes. She looks at him like he’s a stranger, and maybe to her, he is now. He wonders what she sees when she looks at him.
She sees a monster.
“Get out!” She urges, picking up an armful of his things and shoving it into his grasp, pushing him away. James can’t deny the way his heart breaks a little. He loves Lily, he does, he has for a very long time.
Just not enough.
“I never want to see you again, James Potter.” She says, and with a wave of her wand, all of the rest of his things are collected into a pile and thrown outside.
James has no choice but to follow her words, and leave. So he does.
