Happy (late) birthday to Petals who was literally born on the best day to be a Harry Potter fan (aka September First). And is one of the first people who I ever saw share my opinion that James would have been an excellent Hufflepuff. I hope you have an amazing year and had an amazing birthday, Petals.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Harry Potter related, anything you recognize as a Taylor Swift reference, or the one John Mulaney reference.

Also this is part one of three.

It's midnight when he stumbles into the pub, laughing at something the boy in the leather jacket said to him. And already she's drawn to him. Because he's magic with gravity defying hair that makes her want to run her fingers through it, to hold onto as his mouth places hot kisses onto her neck.

And when their eyes meet, she swears her heart stopped for a moment. Because she would have known those bespectacled eyes anywhere. Known the ever-changing eyes that would be her undoing.

'James Potter,' she whispered. And, as if heard her say his name, he looked up, a grin making itself onto his face and his hand moving to run through his hair, and Merlin's sakes, he should know better than to do that when she had to resist the temptation to walk over to him and snog him until she became his undoing too. But instead, she ordered another shot of whisky on ice.

He was so gorgeous that it made her lose her mind because she wanted him. Wanted him so much that it made her feel the need to keep throwing back shots of whisky and talking to anyone else in the room so long as she didn't have to face him. But she could feel the glances he threw her way and the manner in which the one she recognised as Sirius Black kept pushing him her way; and slowly but surely, her resolve began to crumble. Each time all she could think about was his magnetic field being a little too strong.

She wanted to hate him, wanted to hate his stupid lips and stupid eyes and the stupid stubble on his face that made her see red when all she wanted to do was find a nice, little broom closet to push him into–to feel his stupid stubble against any and every part of her. He had been her Head Boy at Hogwarts, a Hufflepuff only two years her senior. Even then she couldn't help but notice how gorgeous he was–something that had not gone unnoticed by her then friend who had made it his duty to tell Lily how horrid James Potter was, not that she listened. She had been too enhanted by the mischievous twinkle behind those hazel eyes.

'All right, Evans,' she heard from behind her, lost in her memories. Her eyes glanced up for a moment, pausing as she saw the shy grin on his face.

She felt a thrill go through her that he recognised her despite the three years since she had last seen him. Although she supposed it would be hard not to considering the amount of times he had been ordered to give her lectures by Professor McGonagall about how proper Prefect conduct didn't include hexing people even if they were bigoted arse-lickers–although James' version had gone more along the lines of, 'That was brilliant, but don't get caught next time.' She supposed that had been another reason she had liked him.

She smiled at him teasingly, 'Why do you ask, Potter?'

He raised his eyebrow at her, 'Should I take it as a compliment that you've been talking to everyone here but me?'

She gave him her best look of indifference before shrugging. 'I didn't notice you,' she said like a liar.

He shook his head, his gaze coming up to meet hers and melt her where she stood. Making her sink into the delicious chocolate-coloured eyes, and she could have died then, drowning in them. 'You've been staring at me all night, cariad,' he said before turning to signal for Rhys the bartender.

'Another whisky,' Rhys asked chuckling as he caught sight of Lily.

'Make it two,' James said, looking down at her softly.

'I wasn't staring at you,' she said in response to his earlier statement. A pout on her lips. 'It's a bit self-centered of you to assume that I was staring at you just because I so happened to be looking in your direction once or twice.' Her eyes narrowed, 'Besides, there are plenty of fit blokes here for me to gawk at.'

He let out a soft sigh, 'I can assure you that none of them are worth your time.'

She swallowed the drink Rhys placed in front of her before turning back to him, 'And you are?'

He leant in close enough for her to feel his breath against her ear, 'I suppose you'll have to decide that on your own.'

She gave him a sly smile before taking his untouched drink, gaining more of her ordinary confidence as she felt the liquid make its way down her throat. She turned to Rhys, 'Two more please.' Her eyes shifted to James' lips. 'On me.'

She was drunk, and he was fit. So really when she began making fun of his posh accent someone really should have stepped in and stopped her before she made an even bigger idiot of herself in front of him.

But as it was, no one did. Not that the gorgeous prat took offense to it. 'I grew up in Wales, cariad,' was his explanation. The ever-present grin on his face widening as his eyes trailed up her body in a way that made her lick her lips in anticipation, a blush that had little to do with her intoxication evident on her face.

'You're not drunk,' she accused, looking at him as if he had just been caught misbehaving, though the pout on her face minimised any impact it could have had. She handled him the bottle she has insisted on getting if only to give Rhys a break and the benefit that sitting at a table versus the bar allowed them–mainly the luxury of being able to study him without having to keep twisting in her seat.

'Observant,' he chuckled. His hand reached across the table to squeeze hers. She smiled at him again, one that expressed the happiness she felt by being with him, one that remained as he launched himself into another story of his adventures with his mates.

'And you call yourself a Hufflepuff,' there was a slight slur at the end. 'I thought your lot was supposed to be nice?'

'I am nice,' he said, his hand still in hers.

Leaning across the table, she looked daringly at him before saying, 'I wouldn't exactly class you as nice, James Potter. Fit? Sure, on a good day.'

'Is today a good day?' He asked impishly, the same mischievous flare he had held in Hogwarts present.

Her response was pressing her lips to his, the hand that wasn't in his moved into his hair. A soft sigh escaped his lips before he pulled away. 'Fuck,' he said, his eyes scanning her face. 'I think you should drink some water and get some rest.'

'Oh.' Her face reddened with embarrassment, her eyes looking anywhere but at him. 'I see.'

'Do you live close by?' She shook her head, not looking up as she felt tears threatening to roll down her face. 'Can you apparate?' She shrugged.

'Lily.' She refused to look up at him, hating him in that moment for making her feel this way. Hating him for being so gorgeous and not being able to have him in her arms. 'Come on,' he said as he took her hand in hers once more, leading her across the darkened room. Didn't he know how hard her heart was beating at his mere touch?

'Where are we going?' She asked as they moved past a group of drunk Muggles.

'Sirius and I live close by. You can have my bed, I'll sleep elsewhere.' He shrugged as if it were nothing.

'Hufflepuff,' she said, stressing the word before attempting to stifle her laughter.

'I'm proud to be a badger, Evans. Best house in all of Hogwarts.'

She scoffed, 'I think that honour goes to Gryffindor. Where dwell the brave at heart.'

He laughed, throwing his head back, and she couldn't help but notice how beautiful it sounded.

He handed her a glass of water after they made their way into the kitchen, gently running a hand through her hair for a moment before pulling away from her.

'Where am I sleeping?' she asked once she had drunk the last of the water.

'My room,' he said, placing the now empty glass on the counter and taking her hand in his.

His room was adorned in Quidditch and Hufflepuff paraphernalia. His bed had sheets embellished with badgers and pillows to match–and the part of her that wanted to be in his bed for an entirely different reason wondered whether his boxers held the same design. Instead of voicing that, however, she picked up a stuffed animal from the floor, holding it tightly to her chest as she asked, 'Is this a badger?' The amusement present in her voice.

'Yes,' his lips twitched. 'His name is Bludger the Badger if you must know.' Fucking adorable, she thought.

'Hufflepuff,' she said teasingly. Her entire being turning to mush for said Hufflepuff who apparently collected all things badger.

He shook his head fondly at her before moving to his wardrobe from where he tossed her a yellow and black shirt with the name 'Potter' written across its back.

'Didn't think you'd want to wear such a pretty dress to bed, love.' Without responding, she began wiggling her way out of the dress, giving James only a second to turn around before the blush made its way onto his neck. Throwing on his shirt a second later, where it reached her knees. She took in the smell of it and let out a small sigh. Her voice coming out hoarse as she said, 'You can turn around.'

He took in her appearance with a fond smile.

'Can you stay…with me?' Her voice was vulnerable, but she wouldn't allow herself to back down.

He hesitated for a moment, biting on his bottom lip before he nodded. She got under the blankets, waiting for him to join her which he did slowly, leaving a gap between them that she quickly closed. 'Good-night, Hufflepuff,' she murmured slowly.

She felt a kiss being placed on the crown of her head before she drifted off to sleep, and the words, 'Good-night, gorgeous,' echoed through the room.

If you want to yell at me, I'm also siriuslysnuffles (it's a sideblog) on tumblr.