Estella lay in her bed that night staring up at the canopy above her four-poster, the heavy velvet curtains half-drawn but doing little to shut out the quiet life of the Gryffindor dormitory around her.
The common room beyond the door had finally gone still-no more laughter, no more firewhisky-fuelled shouting, no stomping feet on the stairs. Just the soft crackle of the dying fire and the occasional rustle of someone turning over in sleep. Even the wind outside had calmed, brushing gently against the tall windows as if it was afraid to disturb anything.
At her feet, curled into a tight, comfortable ball, her cat let out a soft, rhythmic purr. The sound should have been soothing. It usually was. Something steady, grounding. Something that told her the world was simple enough to sleep through.
But Estella wasn't sleeping.
She lay flat on her back, hands folded loosely over her stomach, staring at the dark canopy above as if answers might be written into the fabric. The faint glow from the dying embers downstairs flickered occasionally through the gaps in the curtains, casting slow-moving shadows across the ceiling.
And still-her mind refused to quiet.
*Did that actually happen?*
Her thoughts circled the question like it was a curse she couldn't shake off.
*Did she actually kiss James Potter?*
The words alone should have made her recoil. Should have made her angry, or embarrassed, or furious at herself for letting it happen at all.
Instead-
The corners of her mouth twitched.
Just slightly.
Barely there.
Her brows tightened immediately, as if she could physically force the expression away.
"Shit," she muttered under her breath, sitting up abruptly.
The movement startled her cat, who lifted its head briefly before settling again with an unimpressed sigh.
Estella pressed her palms against her face for a moment, dragging them down slowly as if she could wipe the memory away with it. But it didn't help. If anything, it made it worse.
Because the second she stopped thinking about stopping herself from thinking about it-
He was there.
James Potter.
Not as he usually was. Not loud or annoying or grinning like he owned every room he walked into.
But the version she couldn't quite erase.
The way his hazel eyes had held hers for a second too long. The faint smirk that didn't quite hide the fact that he was just as caught up in it as she was. The warmth of him standing too close, the certainty in his voice when he wasn't joking for once.
And worse than that-
The sound of his laugh. Low, almost quiet. Like he hadn't meant for her to hear it.
YOU ARE READING
cigarette daydream || james potter
Fanfiction"𝑐𝑖𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑦𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚, 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑠𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑛," Estella Lupin has always known what it means to live beside something dangerous-and to love it anyway. After a childhood marked by a harrowing attack she barely surv...
