You and Sirius had been howling.

Properly doubled over, clutching your sides, tears streaming down your face kind of howling. The idea was just too good — too bloody perfect. A love potion. Not just any love potion — a love potion meant to make James sodding Potter fall in love with Severus Snape.

“Imagine it,” Sirius wheezed, nearly spilling rose thorns all over the floor. “He’d write poetry. Start brushing his hair. Walk around clutching his chest like a tragic widow.”

You’d snorted so hard it nearly set the lacewing flies on fire. “What if he serenades him outside the dungeons? ‘Oh Snivellus, my Snivelly, with your—’” you made a dramatic swoon, “your greasy locks and tortured soul!”

“Better than an actual Valentine,” Sirius choked, stirring the potion with flourish. “Cheers to chaos.”

It had taken two nights of sneaking into the kitchens, three small thefts from Slughorn’s cupboard, and one narrowly-avoided detention. But you’d done it. You’d brewed it. Pink, glittery, heart-shaped fumes and all. And you made damn sure James got it.

Except…

What you didn’t notice?

Your hair.

One stupid little strand, fallen loose while you leaned over the cauldron. Stirred right into the mix. Saturated with your scent, your magic, your everything.

And when James drank it, smiling that stupidly bright grin because Sirius had dared him to — you knew something was off the second he looked at you and dropped his goblet.

And now. Now it was Friday night. Now James Potter was in love.

With you.

And Merlin, he was unbearable

That was three hours ago.

Now it’s Friday evening, the Gryffindor common room has cleared out, and you are cornered.

“Oh Merlin,” you mutter, curling further away, “shut up, Potter.”

James is leaning beside you on the couch like he’s trying to memorize your existence. His eyes are soft — weirdly soft — and he’s not laughing, not smirking, not teasing. He’s… swooning. Full on, genuinely, swooning.

“Oh, I feel amazing, sweetheart” he grins, suddenly taking your hand, interlacing your fingers like it’s normal. Like it’s not burning your skin. “Better than I’ve ever felt in my entire life, actually. You’re so… soft. Have you always been this soft, baby?”