Strange Benefits (James Potter)

two

just a disclaimer: i don't own anything except my OC's.
warning: this story will contain mature themes.

Game season could not come near enough for James Fleamont Potter. This was his last school year, and he planned to go out with a bang (see also: a massive prank with the boys and taking home the house cup for Gryffindor). Tryouts for the two open positions were two weeks away, the team lacking a seeker—although there had been, albeit desperate, instances when James stepped in for the position— and a chaser. And how can he forget about the upcoming full moon the day of the tryouts as well? Although already licensed to apparate, the marauders still aren't registered animagi. This was bound to be a stressful year.

The last of the seventh year prefects, Remus and a girl from Ravenclaw he was too sleepy to remember the name of, made their way inside his Head Boy office for the nightly report just as the clock behind his desk strikes 11 pm. Tiredness tugged at his eyelids but the hazel-eyed boy forced upon his face a smile. It was clear that the eldest prefects had things rough compared to the lower years. Their rounds lasted much later, and on top of their NEWTs, they needed all the sleep they could get. Still, their job was easier as opposed to the Head Boy and Girl. They had to take down every report and submit them to the headmaster every morning, resulting in a very troublesome sleeping schedule.

"–but we've escorted the poor girl to the Hospital Wing immediately. So far, that's the only shenanigan caught this evening." The girl, Rowan, James recalled, finished up.

"Alright, you go and head back to your dorm, Rowan. It's bloody late," he teased. "Moony, a word?"

The pair waited for the girl to walk out completely before resuming to their talk. Remus sat himself on the desk before frowning. "You alright there, mate?"

James sighed. "Yeah, just tired is all. How are you lot doing without me? Must be hell."

"A hell less pain in my ass, sure." The scarred boy scoffed. "What is it you want to talk about, anyways?"

The Head Boy took of his black framed glasses and wiped at his drowsy eyes. "Nothin', just wanted to catch up. I've missed the lads, it's not the same being alone in a dorm."

"Don't go all dramatic on me, now, Prongs. Besides, we miss you too. Sirius took it upon himself to wake up half the house by sobbing your name every night the first week."

"How about my Lily flower? Has she said anything about missing me?" Despite the fatigue, the boy managed to perk up at the thought, but his shoulders slumped by the shake of his best friend's head.

With a glance at his wrist watch, the boy frowned. "You should go, Rem. It's almost half an hour 'till midnight, plus the full moon's coming up soon. You should rest. I'll see you lads at the great hall for breakfast tomorrow."

James could not explain the relief he felt when his back finally hit his new comfy bed. One of the perks about having his own dorm was the bigger and definitely fluffier bed, he supposed.

He hadn't always been a very concerned friend. He was a prankster, and chose to lean towards jokes in serious situations. But not being able to spend time with his three best friends every night, on top of all his new obligations and Lily rejecting his every attempt to go out with her, he matured a bit. A bit. Plus, it would be embarrassing for ole Dumbledore to have his Head Boy get detention every week for his infamous pranks. This didn't mean he hasn't planned anything yet, though. In fact, it only encouraged the boy to be more discrete but definitely not stop entirely. After all, he had to live up to being one of Hogwarts' Marauders, right?

He briefly wondered if he had enough energy to force himself out of bed and enjoy a bath at this time of night. The truth was the last time he bathed was probably yesterday, and he was still wearing his school robes. Stifling a groan, he brought his protesting body up. Tossing his clothes off around the room, he stripped until stark naked and only opted to wrap a towel around his waist when the thought of running into Filch naked crossed his mind. He shuddered outwardly. Lazily, the 17 year old boy made his way to the Prefects' bathroom.

He often pride himself with how his body turned out over the years of playing Quidditch. His toned stomach managed to stay fit despite the number of snacks he couldn't help but munch on whenever Peter was around. His arms were especially bulged with muscles from him being the chaser, and his legs were strong from the control he had when riding a broom. Over all, James was aware of how fit he actually was, with fan clubs and all that. He may not be Hogwarts' "hottest lad" or whatever the girls liked to call it (no, that title goes to no other than his brother, Sirius) but he's a fairly big deal around the castle. Parading around in only just a towel wasn't really on his list of problems. Of course, that's what he thought.

It turns out it's really hard to conceal an erection with just a towel.

How exactly did the idiot forget? How did James Potter forget that he was, in fact, not the only one who had to stay up until this ungodly hour, and had access to the bathroom?

He didn't see nor hear her at first. He was only made aware when just as he padded closer to the enormous tub while readjusting his towel, the faucets turned on one by one. He stopped dead in his tracks, frozen at the sight before him.

His gaze followed the silk robe that dropped by the Head Girl's feet and he swallowed a lump he didn't know had formed in his throat.

Was it really his fault that James Jr. (although there is nothing remotely junior about him) decided to stir as he watched the naked back of Milla Rosamund right before his eyes?

Perhaps a cold shower would suit him better.

-

Quite a boring chapter if I do say so myself. But finally a bit of action towards the end :))