𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄
chapter twenty-four; Her Firewhiskey Kiss
" I just don't. . . want to be that broken anymore. "

  REMUS LUPIN WAS growing increasingly annoyed at James's rapid leg-bouncing. His hands were clasped in front of his lips, foot sending earthquakes across the Gryffindor Common Room.

  "Prongs—!"

  "He's nervous, Moony."

  "He's making me nervous!" Remus exclaimed to Sirius, "She's fine!"

  "Physically, I know she is," James mumbled from behind his hands, "It's the other part I'm worried about."

  "She's okay," Lily sighed, attempting to reassure James for the millionth time, "She said she'll be right back."

  "Can't we just go find her—?"

  "Remember what I said, James? She needs to do things on her own time."

  James groaned, opening his hands to cup his face entirely.

  The common room was bustling that night. Salem almost turned around as she opened the portrait, hanging onto the frame briefly before the Fat Lady encouraged her to step fully inside. 

  It was hard to force herself into it, be in the center of bustling people, especially when the boy who'd re-earthed Witch Trials snickered as she snuck past.

  "Sal!" James jumped from his seat, jerking back from Remus's hand reeling him in.

  "Hey," Salem greeted, twisting the rings on her fingers, "Hi."

  "What's wrong, what happened?"

  "You worry a lot," The redhead informed James.

  "Of course I do."

  Salem sighed, shaking her head and taking a seat beside Lily Evans. The latter gently rubbed Salem's shoulder— a sort of reassurance that was genuinely appreciated.

  "Someone called me Witch Trials," Salem sighed, "And I. . . dunno, I lost it. It's stupid, I know it's stupid, and Lils talked to me, and it's not even about the actual witch trials or what you lot did anymore. It's just a huge reminder of me. . . getting hurt. Getting cold and closed off. I don't want to be that anymore. Not that I've. . . gotten too far away from it. I always have just one more thing to fix. So maybe I'll never be totally fixed, I just don't. . . want to be that broken anymore."

  "Who called you Witch Trials?"

  "It's not important, Potter," The girl spoke quietly, "They don't matter."

  "You're right," He nodded, "But you do."

  And then, unexpectedly, James Potter stood on the velvet sofa, making the cushion dip and send Sirius and Remus closer to his legs.

  "Oi! Listen up!" James shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth, "If I hear anybody saying anything bad about Salem— and I mean anything— you'll have me to deal with."

  The common room was still as James's gravelly voice embraced all of them harshly.

  "If you're still laughing about an unfunny joke from four years ago, you're a bit screwed up in the head, and you need to fuck off."

  James was met with Salem's eyes uncharacteristically wide as he re-claimed his seat silently, anger bubbling like an incorrectly brewed potion. The friends sat in silence as the common room re-gained momentum, students steering clear of the Potter boy.

  "Potter, I think we should talk."

  "Yeah, alright."

  James Potter's fury was soothed slightly by the cooling breeze rushing through a lonely courtyard. This and Salem's fingers interlaced with his own. 

  "You didn't have to do that, you know," Salem began quietly, her black boots gently prodding the stone ground. "I don't need people fighting my battles for me."

  "But it shouldn't be your battle, Salem," James spoke strongly, his voice conducting the orchestra of Salem's heartstrings, "We're a bunch of pricks! It took us four bloody years to say sorry— and even then, what good does 'sorry' do when you're still. . . fuck, Sal, you didn't even want to speak to anyone by Dottie until a couple of months ago!"

  "I know."

  "You had so much other shit going on—"

  "I know."

  "And we made your life here a living hell—"

  "James, I know!" Salem snapped, the sudden loss of physical contact startled James nearly as much as his first name slipping from her tongue like a bittersweet berry, "I don't need to be reminded at every turn that I'm broken—!"

  "You aren't, that's not what I was saying."

  "That's what it sounded like!"

  "Sal, you know that's not what I think of you," James' voice had taken a calmer tone, "I'm sorry if I said it wrong, I just meant I had to say something because the only way for this to be fixed is for me, Sirius, Remus, and Pete to do the fixing."

  "I don't want you to do anything, though," Salem attempted to stress without raising her voice an octave, "I forgive you, all of you, why can't that just be it?"

  "Because you mean too much to all of us," James shrugged gently, shoving a sole hand in his trouser pocket, "I mean, Sirius thinks you hung the moon, and I'm not too sure what I'd do if you were gone. We know you forgave us. But it doesn't seem like it's enough."

  Salem tightened her lips, taking a small step to James. She looked at him the way he'd always wanted to be looked at. Not like girls who fancied him or Lily who wanted everything with him. Salem just looked at him like he was James Potter. And that was good enough. She didn't need anything more than him, at the moment.

  Salem didn't play a cat and mouse game, she didn't flirt with thick lashes and full lips. She didn't prod at the subject of the future or push too hard about being in love. No worry about the oncoming war or their graduation or what would happen to them beyond Hogwarts. 

  She just looked at his messy brown curls and his matching pools of earth eyes. Salem rested her palm against his rosy cheek and smiled at a smudge on his wire glasses. 

  "Thank you," She meant for it to sound stronger, but her throat constricted and it came out as a slim whisper that James Potter smiled lightly at.

  "For what?"

  "Just, for being you," Salem furrowed her brows slightly as she spoke, before smiling to match him. She gently moved her thumb across the natural flush to his cheeks, finding it strange how quickly she could become comfortable with touching him, "For knowing me and letting me know you."

  "It's an honor, Salem Gerard."

  "Yeah," She whispered, wanting to say so much more. Like everything she'd ever felt towards James was on the tip of her tongue but she couldn't quite get it out, and she remembered her mother's lecture of actions speaking louder than words, so Salem acted.

  Her hand slid back just slightly, pulling James down to her by the back of his neck, and she kissed him. With everything in her, Salem pressed her petal lips to James' pillowy ones, and found herself terrified she'd done the wrong thing until James kissed back.

  His hand quickly found a place to call home in the dip in her spine, pulling her closer with the same force she'd pulled him. 

  James was sweet to kiss. His lips were soft and Salem felt his warm breath on her cheek and his hands were large but gentle, never wandering too far from her spine.

  Salem was every spicy thing James had ever tasted. She was the trickling warmth of a firewhiskey shot, the fire that settled in his belly afterward. Salem had fury in her kiss— a passion so powerful it melted James Potter right down, and he didn't mind one bit.

  And even as they pulled away, foreheads resting together in the agreement they weren't ready to let go entirely, the feelings lingered. The comfort and the fire intertwined together so graciously.

  "You kissed me."

  "You're observant," Salem noted, making James breathe out a laugh. "Yeah, I did."

  "I've been wanting to kiss you for a while," He admitted, still smiling, "I just. . . didn't want to make you uncomfortable— I know I can be a bit much. . . so I'm trying."

  Salem smiled, her thumb running over his cheek as she'd done seconds prior. How had she ever thought this boy, this gentle, clumsy, oblivious, boy was anything near mean? He was loud and obnoxious and full of life— but when James loved it was so deeply. It was felt for miles, seen by everyone, he loved with his entire being.

  And he loved her. She'd been too scared to see it before, this devouring love, but it was clear now. From the way he looked at her to the way they spoke, how James may have not said it, but it was a simple fact they both knew. 

  "It's not that you're too much," She assured gently, "I just. . . I get scared."

  "I know. And I don't want you to be. So we're on your time."

  And maybe, just maybe, Salem Gerard loved James Potter just a little bit, too.

( AUTHOR'S NOTE. )
anyways sal and james
are my favorite couple 
I've ever written
ALSO, i think i'm gonna
end this end of 7th
year and do an epilouge
that takes place in 1991
so woohoo!