our universe

- F O R E A R M S -

Rory had thought she knew all there was to know about James. James Matthias Potter, prankster, Quidditch maniac, and all together annoying. An unfortunate side effect of being best friends with Juniper. Constantly bugging her, showing off, skiving off classwork, a full of himself pain in the arse. He'd been bothering her since first year. James Potter, idiot. Except that he wasn't. He was now James Potter, sweet and funny and smart. Rory was learning new things about him everyday. Like the way he chews on his quill when he's thinking. Like the fact that his eyes sort of twinkle when he's teasing her. Like how he smiles at her and it makes her stomach feel all funny. Rory really likes when James smiles at her, even if it's his stupid smirk.

Also his forearms. James had beautiful, perfect forearms. Rory's been noticing his forearms a lot recently. Well, it's not like she hadn't noticed (and admired) them before. She had eyes. James was obviously objectively attractive. But now, now, it was so much more. They were lean and muscled, covered with faint freckles, and almost always had an ink smudge or two, which somehow made them even more breathtakingly glorious. He had a habit of pushing the sleeves of his uniform shirt up, and Rory felt faint each time he did so.

She loves making him read a passage in a textbook aloud, not only because his voice causes her heart to pound at an alarming rate, but also because she can watch the muscles in those goddamned forearms flex when he turns the page. And Rory hates it. She hates it all. She hates that she wants to run a hand through his stupid messy hair. She hates that he looks so so bloody good in his Quidditch uniform. She hates that he wears his tie loose around his neck because he can't be bothered to do it properly. And she hates that she wants to grab it and pull him close and kiss him.

Worse still, or better depending on Rory's mood, was that Junie and Viv had been trying to convince her for ages to come watch a Quidditch practice. So she sits on the bleachers, pretending to study and act annoyed when James shows off in the air in front of her. She peeks over her reading to stare at James riding his broom, muscles taut and glistening with sweat. Secretly, she wants to know what it might be like to have those strong arms wrapped around her. Which inevitably leads her mind to other places, like her legs wrapped around his-

Rory shivered at the thought, though the Room of Requirement was perfectly temperate, a tingly, electric shock sending goosebumps up her spine.

"Cold?" James asked, looking up from his parchment, eyebrows raised quizzically.

Rory started, snapping back to the present. Had she been staring? Had James sen her staring? Did he know what she had been thinking about? Oh Godric what was happening to her?!

"Earth to Wood?" James waved a hand in front of her face, leaning back in his chair. "You were kind of in your own world for a minute."

"Just- you know...studying." Rory said, in an overly high voice she used whenever she was nervous. "Thinking...stuff." Internally, she winced. Thinking stuff??! For Chrissakes.

"Right." James nodded with a small chuckle, "So are you sitting under a draft or something?"

"Oh no- I-" Rory stammered frantically, she couldn't very well say that the mere thought of his forearms had caused her to shiver.

"I'm a bit warm actually." James said, as he began to pull his jumper over his head.

Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Rory's brain was short circuiting. She quickly dropped her eyes to the table to hide the flush of her cheeks. The shirt underneath rode up and holy mother of abs. Rory wanted to die.

"Here." James handed her the jumper with a smile, straightening his shirt.

Rory blinked, still not processing anything besides how hot James looked taking off a jumper. A bloody jumper. She felt faint again, "Oh- erm- er- I-" These were not words. There were not coherent thoughts. She was a stuttering mess. James was looking at her expectantly. What did he want? Oh the jumper. The jumper. Rory put the jumper on. It was huge and soft and smelled like James, and she was so overwhelmed that she barely had time to register the alarming fact that she knew and liked the way James Potter smelled.