We Were Bound | james potter

t w e n t y e i g h t

chapter 28

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lucky
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Faeryn had never really lived a lucky life.

It was mediocre she would say, nothing too bad happened to her and nothing too good. Though for some reason this year, both had been happening.

Mind you, it was more of the unlucky stuff occurring than the lucky... but nonetheless— lucky stuff was still happening to her.

For example, the fact that James Potter just confessed his love for her.

It was a little too easy, she thinks, to say it back. To grin sweetly, her teeth beginning to peek through her now red lips. To tilt her chin up a bit as if to hide her fear.

To say it back.

"I'm in love with you, too, Potter," she smirked,

And she was waiting for someone to pop out and laugh, say it was a joke, you think he'd actually be in love with you? Waiting for the ceiling to fall on top of her, because lucky things didn't happen to Faeryn Lupin.

But nothing happened, he just beamed at her, as if in awe that any of this was real.

He was too pretty, too distracting for Faeryn to even contemplate about what was lucky and what was not, so she pushed the back of his head with her hand weaved in his hair, their lips happily reconnecting.

And she didn't know how to explain how each time they kissed it kept getting better. How the butterflies in her stomach never went away.

Sometime— as they were lost in each other, he had gently laid her back against the bed, her blanket hardly clinging onto her as most of its weight fell onto the floor, pulling her feet as if she was trying to point her toes. Her ballet teacher from fourth grade would not approve of her form.

He was cautious of the cuts across her face, and across the parts of her he couldn't see. She could feel the stretch of a healing gash on her thigh, could practically see the skin stretching and breaking if she thought about it too hard in her head.

She only thought about it for a second, for James hovering over her, a sweat bead forming on his temple, was more than enough to pull her from her thoughts.

Fae probably wouldn't have noticed if someone had walked in the room.

He was hardly making contact with any other part of her body, she could feel it in the tenseness of his shoulders that he was scared to put any weight on her.

Probably a good thing, if she already had one cut opening up, James putting pressure on the biggest one on her body would surely do worse.

She pulled away, and James immediately retreated, sitting on his knees in between her, eyes scared and worry written all across his face.

"Did I—" he began, his eyes wild and tracing her whole body.

She would surely use this as blackmail later on, when it was long in the past and funny, when they could laugh about it.

"No, just—" she sat up, the blanket hooked on her feet fell softly onto the floor, and she scooted until she was sitting on the edge of the bed, her thigh pushing up against the nightstand.

She held back her wince from the pressure on her bleeding thigh. She didn't want him to worry, didn't want him to pity her.

Didn't want him to stop.

He made a confused sound in the back of his throat. She stood up, a comforting smile stretching her lips as she turned around. Her head nodded toward the pillow, a whisper flowing into his ears like honey.