“We Always Were A Thing, Weren’t We?”

'Hold up'

Their hand is on the back of James' shirt, catching him before he leans too far forward.

It's a rush, sometimes. The same exhilaration he gets from flying, from swinging out of his broomstick around the goalposts. There's an infinite feeling that comes with being so high up, so far away from the ground below, and he wants to believe he can hold onto that sensation forever. The astronomy tower comes pretty close, and James finds himself up there with Charity far more than he'd realised.

He likes them. A lot. He likes their honesty, and their freedom. There's a bravery in being so entirely who you are that the rest of the world melts away, and it's a feeling he's chased for years. Charity embodied it like it's second nature, weightless, and he's jealous.

They're too nice for him to be mad about it, though.

The pair of them are pressed up against the railings of the tower, watching the world go by. There's a peek of Hogsmeade in the distance, and the train tracks over the lake and the moors, and James can appreciate the view.

He'd been so enveloped in it, however, he'd almost leaned too far over the edge, and Charity had caught the back of his shirt just in time.

He's lucky they're around.

Peace

The grounds are quiet.

The sun is shining. Classes are finished, and the train is leaving tomorrow. They're all packed, surprisingly actually on time, for once, - and hell, it's only taken them six years to perfect the art of moving back home for the summer.

James feels entirely at ease. There's the looming darkness that haunts them all, of course; a war on the brink of beginning, and smug pureblood students who believe they know right from wrong, bad from good, pure from filth. The thought of it makes his blood boil, makes him detest everything and anything being a pureblood wizard has become.

But for once, it's not on his mind. It's a privilege, he knows, and one he doesn't take lightly; but for a brief moment in time, everything feels normal again. They're sitting in some shade under the tree by the lake. Sirius is skipping stones, using his wand to propel them farther, and Remus is taking down the last of the notes he needs for whatever summer study he plans on doing, to make up for lost time with the moons.

None of them are talking. They don't have to. His gaze drifts to Peter, looking far too deep in thought to truly be enjoying this gloriously sunshine-y day, and James makes an effort to reach his foot out, knocking it against Peter's leg lightly to get his attention.

It snaps his friend out of the moment, and when Peter looks at him in confusion, James simply smiles.

'Relax,' he mouths, with a small shrug, refusing to break the quiet.

Whatever's on his mind can wait for another day.

Sad/cute shippy sentences

zetterdamn:

There’s no doubt it was always you.

From the first time i walked you home from school you stole my hear.

It was always you.

It hurts to see your pretty smile fade.

I know there’s nothing left for us to say but it’s okay.

It’s okay-

There’s no getting over you.

I tried my best to tell the truth but the missing is tearing me apart.

Forgetting is the hardest part.

The thought of losing you is all too much.

I’m a long, long way from home… From you.

I’ll be back some day.

We’ll do it all, everything.

We don’t need anything, or anyone.

If I lay here, If I just lay here… Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Those three words… Are said too much. They are not enough.

I don’t quite know how to say how I feel.

Would you lie with me, and just forget the world?

Forget what we’re told, before we get too old.

I need your grace to read my needs, to find my own.

Your perfect eyes is all that I can see.

I’m sorry for hurting you.

I’ll be here to hold your hand.

If only I knew what I know today.

I would hold you in my arms, and take the pain away.

Thank you for all you’ve done.

There’s nothing I wanna do to hear your voice again.

Sometimes… I wanna call you, but I’m scared that you won’t be there.

I’m sorry for blaming you for everything I just couldn’t do.

I’ve hurt myself by hating you.

Some days I feel broken inside, but I just don’t want to admit it.

It’s so hard to say goodbye when it comes to this.

Would you tell that I was wrong?

Would you help me understand?

Are you proud of who I am?

If I had just one more day I would tell you how I’ve missed you since you’ve been away.

I’m sorry for blaming you.

Blame it all on me.

It was my fault – This wasn’t supposed to…happen.

Please forgive me.

I can’t stay… I really can’t –

I have come to talk with you again.

We need to talk…

Can we please just – Talk ?

I think we should… talk about… This – Us.

They know about us.

Oh come on – Look at us! Is this what we really want???

… I don’t think there’s anything left to say. 

Do you even know how to answer your phone?

I keep messaging you, but you never reply?

Never mind. It’s nothing. It never is. 

Can’t you just listen to me!?

I’m fine okay, can we drop this?

I’ve heard that you… Found… someone new?

There will always be things I can’t give you, things I can’t say – And I all I want… Is for you to be happy. 

It isn’t over – We are not over, yet.

I wish nothing but the best for you.

Don’t… Forget me – Please ?

I just want to forget everything about you. 

It hurts. It hurts so much – Don’t you understand!?

I can’t do this.

We can fix this.

We can’t fix this.

We could always…stop here and stay friends?

Are you sure that…we should – ? You know… do this?

I won’t ever find someone like you… You are special to me.

You are perfect.

We always were a thing, weren’t we?

❝ It’s okay — you’re going to be okay! ❞

[TW: injury description.]

"Your faith in me is absolutely reassuring." His words come out dry, forced through the ache of the pain shooting up his leg. He's fine, for the most part, - the Death Eaters they had been chasing have long since been taken care of, and he and Amelia are a bloody good team. "It's a quidditch thing," she had joked, though he had agreed wholeheartedly. Their issue now is the nasty way his leg is twisted, and James stays slumped up against the brick wall, keeping his weight on the other foot. He's had injuries, before. Quidditch, stupid tricks and pranks with the boys, that one time he had flown around to Lily's window of Gryffindor tower in the rain, and had slipped off his broom. Countless full moons. Auror training, and being in the Order. He's seen the inside of the medical wing and St. Mungo's more times than he can count, and he's learned to handle the pain. But it's something else. The hex the Death Eater had used is nasty, and James feels like his leg is still twisting in the wrong direction, tightening, like bone and muscle is fit to burst. The longer they wait, the worse it feels. Amelia's there, though. She's got one arm under his shoulders, helping to keep him upright, and he's more than grateful. There's a grimace on his face, and James fights a groan as his leg twists again, his hand grabbing onto her tightly. "Please don't tell my wife about this," he huffs, giving her a look.

❝ What did you do? ❞

"Did I do something?" He sounds drunk when he says it, voice a little slurred and nasally as he tries to make sense of the situation. Marlene's here, which is always a nice thing, but so is Sirius, and Hooch, and they're all standing around him, looking down at him like he can't quite believe he's actually there. He is there. Isn't he? The sky above them is blue, and despite the lack of clouds, he can still see it swimming. There's a bludger to his left, pinned to the grass by a quidditch boot, and James tries to focus for a moment, brow furrowing, - but the action itself causes a sharp, aching pain to shoot right up his nose to the back of his brain, and it takes all he can not to hiss in agony, trying desperately to not do that again. It's a tough challenge, something for him to focus on while Hooch leans down to turn his head this way and that, poking at his chin to get him to turn his jaw to the side, and Poppy pops up beside her, looking remarkably unimpressed. "Third broken nose this month, Potter?" she asks, already shoving something minty and sharp right under his face, and James tries his best not to sneeze. "Think he's going for a new record," Marlene remarks, rolling her eyes. He lets out a laugh, and immediately regrets it, pain hitting his nose all over again.

“Love is really the only thing we can possess, keep with us, and take with us.”

— Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

❝ I…I’m sorry. I have to go ❞

"Go where?!" He asks it with a laugh, using it to hide the disappointment he feels. It's natural, he knows, his mum had warned him a thousand times; people drift apart by the time school starts to end, friendships change, people change. James wants to believe that Peter's only running away from hanging out behind the herbology greenhouses because he's stressed about NEWTs, or because they all still have a history essay due in two days, or because McGonagall's been breathing down his neck about his plans for the future. They're all stressed about NEWTs. About classes. McGonagall. It's barely an excuse. It's been happening more and more lately. Peter's distance. Seven years of being joined at the hip is starting to dwindle, and as right as his mother usually is, James doesn't want it to be true. Any plans about the future are usually shot down, any questions about hanging out for the weekend, or going to Hogsmeade, or even just studying together, most of them are rejected. And he understands, truly, - it's an exhaustive time for all of them, mutually. But surely they're supposed to be leaning on each other, supporting each other, not drifting apart? They're supposed to stay together, the four of them. They're supposed to save the world. He seems insistent on leaving, however. And for the hundredth time, James lets him go, letting out a soft breath of Peter's name in protest. It's not enough to keep him around. It never is.

❝ No, please don’t leave… ❞

"I'm not leaving you." He says it with determination, sweat mixed with rain as it drips down his temple, the pair of them huddled together in an awning. Hogsmeade is eerily quiet, a mist settling in over the moors as winter creeps nearer, and he has one hand on the bloody mess that is Sirius' chest, the other still clutching his wand tight. The fight itself had been a bloody ambush, in every sense of the phrase, Death Eaters poised and waiting for the duo to arrive, after an arranged meeting with 'a trusted source' to gather some intel from London. A trusted source, the little voice in the back of his head echoes, dripping with sarcasm and rage, though the hiss of pain Sirius gives is enough to snap James back into the moment. Apply pressure. Keep him calm. How many times had they sat through wizard and muggle first aid training with Shacklebolt, specifically for moments like this? He can see it in Sirius' face, the delirium of blood loss and the cold creeping in around them, and it takes every ounce of courage he's got right then and there to stay put, keeping a brave face for the both of them. He's got two options, reality setting in with the frost on the grass, and James tries to weigh up the pros and cons, still focusing on the blood pooling between his fingertips. The injuries to his chest aren't pretty. Too deep to be healed with magic, and even still James' hand is shaking a little too much to keep his wand steady. They're supposed to be meeting Lily in an hour, to pass on the information and head back to the Order headquarters, but it's hard to know how long Sirius can stand laying there. Their other option is a flare, lighting the evening sky with a stream of red, - but that in itself is a giant, bloody pin in the map, pointing out their exact location to the people they're trying to keep it from. He's running out of options. "I'm not leaving you," James says again, sure in his voice. His hand steadies, and he keeps the pressure.