cigarette daydream || james potter

"you sigh, look away,"

The thick, suffocating sensation of warm, static-heavy fur was the first thing that registered in Estella's consciousness the following morning. She opened her eyes to a wall of striped orange fluff, her nose and mouth entirely compromised by her needy tabby cat. "Oliver!" she choked out, her voice a raspy morning growl as she vigorously picked stray hairs off her tongue and out of her eyelashes. Scooting backward against her headboard, she sat up with a heavy yawn, burying her face into the palms of her hands and rubbing the sleep from her eyes until dull bursts of color bloomed behind her eyelids.

Unbothered by the outburst, Oliver leaped effortlessly from the mattress, landing with a soft thud on the stone windowsill. He sat majestically, wrapping his tail around his paws as he observed her with judgmental, glowing amber eyes. Estella glanced past him, noting the golden, honeyed light of the dawn just cracking over the jagged peaks of the Scottish mountains, spilling across the dormitory floor. Sighing at the reality of another school day, she swung her legs out of bed and set about the dreadful task of getting changed.

The Hogwarts uniform had always felt like an adversary to Estella, particularly the tie, which she struggled with so desperately that it inevitably ended up a messy, crooked knot hanging loosely around her neck. Shrugging, she left the top two buttons of her crisp white shirt entirely undone, preferring comfort over the strict rules of the student handbook. She bent down, dragging her heels into her worn black Converses and hastily pulling the laces into frayed bows before standing up to run her fingers through the unruly tangles of her thick, chestnut hair. Satisfied that she looked passable, she yanked the strap of her canvas tote bag over her shoulder and slipped out of the dormitory, bracing herself for the dungeon depths where her first lesson, Potions, awaited.

-☾~☽-

The air grew progressively colder and damp as Estella descended into the castle's lower levels. She was anxiously running her hands through her hair yet again, trying to tame the breeze-blown strands, as she crossed the threshold into the dimly lit classroom. At the front of the room, the Potions Master caught sight of the disheveled girl walking in, and a subtle, weary sigh escaped his lips.

"Ah, Miss Lupin," Professor Slughorn said, his booming voice echoing slightly off the stone walls as he adjusted his velvet robes.

"You look worried, sir," Estella smirked, leaning slightly on the doorframe. The cheeky comment earned a slow shake of the Professor's head, though a glimmer of amusement danced in his eyes.

"I am not worried in the slightest, my dear. Please, take a seat down beside Mr. Potter."

An involuntary, visceral groan escaped Estella's lips. Her eyes darted toward the back of the classroom, landing squarely on James Potter, who was already lounged back at a dark wooden desk, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "For fuck's sake," she muttered under her breath, the words a dark whisper as she dragged her feet across the room.

Reaching the desk, she didn't just place her tote bag down; she threw it, letting it hit the stone floor with a heavy, satisfying thud before she unceremoniously dropped into the chair next to him.

James didn't miss a beat. Leaning his elbow on the table, he offered a lopsided grin. "You don't exactly look thrilled to be sharing a desk with me, Lupin," he observed, his voice dripping with casual arrogance.

"That's because I'm currently trying to pretend you're a figment of my imagination," Estella replied, flashing him a terrifyingly bright, entirely fake smile. "If you could stop breathing so loudly and close your mouth, that would be immensely helpful." Without waiting for a retort, she snapped her gaze back to the front of the room, fixing her eyes resolutely on the Professor.