Interactions:all - Blog Posts

mcrningecans​:

   HIS FINGERS ON HER SKIN WERE THE ONLY THING REMINDING HER SHE WAS HERE. Here and not there; back in that place, where everything felt sunken. The loss of him was alive here, but at least it was alive, breathing life into the places of Lily she thought had been lost. Every part of her ached for Harry, and yet every part of her ached for James, her James, who sat in front of her now. It was a confusing battle; one that she didn’t know how to win. Because there was no winning.

     Either she was alive, and Harry was gone. Or Harry was alive and she could never hold him.

     The thought was almost too much to handle, so Lily watched James’s fingertips, watched their circles; the swoops and the dives. His voice brought her back from her trance, reminded her that there was more to the world than her own grief. There was James. And right now he needed her. She put her cup down and gently, with shaking palms, cupped his cheeks. Lily was afraid if she pressed too hard, got too greedy with connecting, that she’d shatter this illusion. And bloody hell, what would she do if everything crumbled apart around her? What would she do if she learned this was all some kind of sad, twisted trick? Still, James was still there, even with his cheeks in her hands. Even as her thumb gently brushed away any remaining tears on his face. 

     “James,” Lily said, softly. “You saved Harry. You were trying to save us.” If this were another time, she might’ve made a joke about him being an idiot. But it felt wrong now no her lips, and she let it die. And then the thought of Harry; the part he didn’t know. The part that, somehow, she knew, even though there was really no way for her to have known. How could she know that her son survived? She had died, and now she was alive again, and he wasn’t even here. But in that world, in that scenario, Harry had lived. He’d grown. “I… I didn’t make it either. I had enough time to get in front of Harry; to shield him–” Lily shook her head. “But he lived. I’m certain of it.”

     The boy who lived. Their boy who had lived, despite it all. Despite all the trials he certainly had to face; despite the fact that, somehow, he’d had to face Voldemort again. That was the part that kept returning to her, circling in and out like a dream. Why had she seen her son face down that monster? Why didn’t Harry get peace after all he’d had to endure? It killed her to know that they might have died in vain; that all their sacrifice, and Harry still was forced to be the hero. 

     “None of this makes any bloody sense,” she said, dropping her hands to her lap, watching James trace his circles again, waiting for them to give her an answer. 

--

 If there was anyone in the universe who understood him, it was Lily.

Lily, who had seen the best, and the worst in him, even when they were kids. Lily, who understood that all they needed was a little time, and a little faith, and everything they wanted became everything they had. Lily, who had been forced to face the worst parts of the wizarding world, and had lost the dearest friendship she had at the age of fifteen, and still believed that she could do some good for the people who had wronged her, and the world who was so willing to turn it’s back on her. It was a true miracle, he believed, that she had ever given him the time of day at the start of sixth year; and while neither of them were perfect, - bloody hell, was he far from it, - it meant they could have this.

Total trust. Total honesty. Total belief that the life they had built together, both through their home, and through Harry, was still with them. 

She had gone through so much. Too much, for someone just touching twenty-one; though she looked younger, now. There was no scar on her hand from where she’d broken a glass on their honeymoon, and still, she lifted her hands to cup his face the way she always did, gentle, and some part of James eased. There was a storm, still. Brewing. But the waves had calmed, and for a brief second in time, James found some peace. 

If this was purgatory, he could have sat there with her for eternity. ‘Til death did them part.

What did that even mean any more?

He closed his eyes, listening as she spoke. Even now, there was hope in her voice, laced with confusion, and hurt. It pained him to listen to her own side, to the fight she had lost, - won? If Harry was still safe, somewhere, wasn’t that a victory? Better yet, if this was their opportunity to change things, so that Voldemort never found them in the first place, and they could still have Harry with them, wasn’t that the goal?

He had a headache. He frowned, slightly, setting his cup down to hold Lily’s hand to his face, keeping it there, as he turned to press a soft kiss to her palm, his own hand still gentle against her thigh.

They had each other. They needed each other.

He needed her. 

James let her hands go, blinking his eyes open again. It caught in his chest, the loss that ached like nothing he had ever felt before. Losing Marlene, his parents, their other friends, all of it hurt. Losing Harry?

It burned.

“.. I had a dream about him,” he whispered, taking up Lily’s hands in his own, lacing their fingers together lightly. If there was one person he could say this to, it was her. “Harry. Maybe it wasn’t a dream. I don’t know. It was like.. his life, all muddled up together. And then we met him, in this forest. And we got to talk to him.” There were tears in his eyes, then, and James sniffled lightly, giving a small shrug. “I probably sound crazy. I feel crazy.”

ofmollyweasley​:

molly had completely forgotten she had come to scout out her brothers. seeing the face she had spent years taking in as her own had completely thrown her for a loop. feeling james pulling her in for a hug, she took him into the bear hug she was notorious for. she had done pretty well so far keeping it together. the emotions of everything hadn’t really caught up to her yet. she hadn’t really had time to process it all, what with having five small children to take care of again.

but having the boy who lived’s father hugging her, his arms wrapped around her, it opened the flood gates. she tried stifling a sob as much as possible. when had she last seen the man? it was surely before they went into hiding. she thought of james as another brother. 

“looking for fab and gid,” she said, having her question of whether her brothers were there or not. “they gave the boys sugar and left them with me.” it seemed so trivial now, having seen james for the first time in twenty years. 

--

The past few days had been.. rough, if there was any other word for it. 

Seeing Sirius and Remus, and Marlene. Alice, and hearing of everything she and Frank had gone through. He and Lily were still trying to process it all, and while part of him had hoped for some normalcy by attending an Order meeting, - and to see if any of the other members had any clue of what was going on, without being the one to spill the beans and sound like an absolute nutter, - James knew things would be okay if Molly Weasley was still around.

Until she had stared at him, like she couldn’t quite believe he was really there. And when he reached for her, Molly grabbed him in the tightest, Molly-est hug imaginable, and all at once, he felt that uncertainty.

That fear.

Something was still wrong.

She was crying, and James’ chest ached with it. He bundled her up as tightly as he could, - and careful with it, too, - reaching for a clean tissue in his pocket when she had pulled back to offer it to her. There’d been a lot of crying, lately. He was trying to stay prepared. 

“.. they deserve to get their arses kicked, then,” he joked weakly, still keeping one arm around Molly, to make sure she was alright. “I haven’t seen them. But - you’re more than welcome to stay, until they turn up. I needed a good excuse to get out of there, anyway.” 

He looked back at the door, a tired frown on his face, before offering Molly a weak smile. “Tea?”

nighttimestorrm​:

Sirius had pieced together what had happened that night. But it was different hearing it. A fresh wave of anger rushed through him that he tried his best to push down. Peters betrayal feeling as though it had just happened all over again and was just as raw. Except James wouldn’t know all of it. And, as much as he hated the rat right now, he didn’t want to tell him and make things worse. After everything, he still wanted to protect who he believed was his friend.

How pathetic.

Taking a drag from his cigarette he watched the smoke drift through the air while he listened. He couldn’t even imagine how James felt right now. He was back and yet still lost what had been the most important to him. He couldn’t imagine the pain. And there was nothing he could do to make it any better for him. Though he wished that he could.

“He, um…” Clearing his throat he tried to come up with the right words. If there were any. He wanted to reassure his friend that his son was okay. But Sirius didn’t know that for sure. He hoped he was. He would need to find Remus and find out what happened after he…he died. The thought sent a chill down his spine. He died. It felt too unbelievable to be true. Out of everything he has been through it was his damn cousin that did him in. 

“He’s fine, James. He’s a fighter. Just like his dad.” He said, and gave James a nudge with his elbow. “I can’t imagine how you and Lily must be feeling. I’m so sorry, James. This…it’s confusing as fuck.” 

Sighing he took another drag. “It must have happened for a reason though, right? Maybe we can do things differently this time. Or…I don’t know…but there must be a reason. Even if it feels like shit. If other people remember then we have more information than last time. We…it has to end better this time.”

He wished this was a happier reunion. But his mind kept wandering to where he should be. And it wasn’t here. If he had only not been so close to that fucking veil. If he had stopped fighting once Dumbledore had turned up. All his mind was filled with was what if’s. And it was going to drive him mad.

--

‘He’s fine, James. He’s a fighter. Just like his dad.’

Those words made him freeze up. The way Sirius spoke about him, the way he held Harry in such a high regard, already, as if his son hadn’t only been a year old, to them, just a few months ago. Harry wasn’t a fighter, - he could be, in the future, if he needed to be, - but he was only a baby. Soft round cheeks, big green eyes, a messy head of hair he hadn’t even grown into yet. They still needed protective charms around the house to stop him from bumping into the cupboards, and climbing up the stairs. 

James had only just bought his Baby’s First Fly broom for his first birthday. 

And while he had wanted to believe that Sirius had been there when they had gone, after Halloween night, Lily’s own dreams, - her visions, her memories of Harry’s future, which matched up with so many of his own, including the forest, proved the worst of their fears. That Harry had gone to her sister’s, and barely knew a thing about being a wizard until he had turned eleven. The vow Sirius had made when he’d taken on the title of godfather was robbed from him, - and where had he been since, if Lily’s memories were true?

He turned, then, looking at Sirius quietly, gaze searching. They were both nineteen again, the mirror had proven that much, but Sirius still looked older. Tired. Like he’d seen a thousand years before, and was dreading the thought of seeing them, all over again. If he’d really appeared in the forest with them, with Harry, then there had to have been a reason for it, surely. Not just because he and Remus were their friends, but because, -

It hit him.

The way Sirius spoke. ‘It has to end better this time,’ he had said, and if that was what he believed, then what way did it end before?

And, more importantly.

“.. you met him?”

nighttimestorrm​:

He was real.

That was the first thought that he had when James pulled him in for a hug. Instantly he wrapped his arms around his friend and clung onto him, hands grasping onto his shirt as though he was afraid he was going to just disappear. But right now he was here and he was real. James had always been the one Sirius ran to when things got too hard. He just knew what to do and say to make it seem easier to deal with. Yet, in this situation, he doubted anyone could make it feel better. Afterall, he was mourning for a life that technically hadn’t even happened yet.

“You and me both.” He whispered and managed a laugh as he hugged James tight. Where do you even begin trying to make up for lost time when you never even thought it was a possibility that you would ever see them again? Sirius could never have prepared himself for this.

“It’s been…it’s been a really long time, prongs.” He said and finally let go of James to look at him. He needed to pull himself together. Falling apart wasn’t going to help him figure any of this out. And if this was a second chance they needed to start changing things now. But, selfishly he just wanted to spend time with James and forget everything else.

And he was also just tired.

He knew they had to fight to change everything. Save everyone. But…he had already fought. He had done it once and failed. On more than one occasion. Was it really selfish to just…rest. He felt like it was. Especially when it was his friends lives on the line. But he had been through so much that the thought of doing it again made him feel sick.

What if they couldn’t change anything?

He’d rather stay dead than have to go through Azkaban again.

“What do you remember?” He asked gently. “If you want to talk about it. If not I get it. We don’t need to talk about it just yet.”

--

How long?

He wanted to ask the question, but it caught in his throat, fear strangling him then and there. He didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to try face the idea of Sirius ever having to go on without them, couldn’t, - and while they had all made plans, and written their wills, and came to their agreements and arrangements for the possibility of one of them ever dying, none of them had anticipated a situation like this. How could they?

It was like no magic he’d ever seen. 

Clearly it was something. If Sirius was staring at him like he’d come back from the dead, which he had, and Harry was nowhere to be found, any trace of him gone from the house. The Daily Prophet had confirmed the date, and still, it was a hard pill to swallow. Without any logical reason, something had dragged them all back from the brink of death, - 

And as much as James wanted answers, for a brief moment, he just wanted his brother.

He kept a hand on Sirius’ arm, using his grasp to tug him back over to the door. The back garden was cloaked, at least, not only in trees and greenery, but in enchantments that had been cast on the house for centuries. Ways to keep muggles out, and keep the magic in. It offered them some peace of mind, knowing they could live their lives without second guessing any peeping neighbors or passers by, and James was grateful for it as they took a seat on the back step, using his wand to light up a second cigarette. He passed it to Sirius, certain it wouldn’t be refused, and lit up another for himself.

What did he remember?

“.. you know what I know,” he admitted finally, staring out at the garden, noticing the tiny details of how much time had reversed. “He knew where to find us. And he did."

His mouth twisted up, fighting a pained frown, and James stayed quiet for a beat. He let out a breath, heavy, and shaking. The reason hung in the air between them, Peter’s name bitter on his tongue. 

“Lily didn’t get away in time. I tried to give her a headstart, to get out, but I - I couldn’t. I couldn’t stop him. And we - we don’t know what happened to the baby, but, -”

He’s not here. He’s not here. He’s not here.

“.. it’s like we never had him at all, Pads. The nursery’s gone, the food, the pictures, his things. They’ve disappeared. The house is full of - fucking boxes, like we just moved in a week ago.” He shook his head as he said it, almost in disbelief. James lifted a hand to rub at his eyes, fighting back the tears. “None of it makes any sense.”

nighttimestorrm​:

Sirius rarely ever cried in front of other people. He could actually count on one hand the amount of times he had. Usually he would take himself off and hide, not wanting anyone to see him at his most vulnerable. But James had always been different. James was the person Sirius trusted above everyone else. His brother. The thought caused another sob to rumble through him and it was taking every ounce of strength he had left not to just break down completely.

But then he spoke.

He had forgotten what his voice sounded like. And he hadn’t realised that until now. Fifteen years. It had been fifteen years since he had saw him and yet it had never gotten easier. If anything, it had gotten worse as the days went by. Every day he had just wanted to talk to him. And now that he was here in front of him Sirius had no idea what to say.

He wanted to say he was sorry for not seeing the signs of Peters betrayal earlier. He wanted to say sorry for not fighting hard enough for Harry. He wanted to say how unfair it is that they spent more time apart than they did together. He wanted to tell him about how his son was so much like him that he should be proud. He wanted to tell him everything.

But most of all he just wanted to say how much he had missed him. Needed him. But nothing was coming out.

“You weren’t supposed to die before me.” He finally managed to say, his voice wavering with the effort to keep his breathing in check. He meant to say it as a joke but, honestly, he had never once thought about the possibility that James would die before him. It had felt impossible. It still did. After all, Sirius had been a reckless idiot that didn’t think before he acted. He hadn’t had much to lose. And yet James had his family. It wasn’t fair.

“You…you remember things, right? Because otherwise I’m going to sound insane.” 

He wanted to reach out and hug James but he knew that if he did he wouldn’t let go. And he couldn’t stop staring at the face he had seen through Harry. They were so similar that it hurt. It felt cruel. Either he had James and not Harry. Or Harry and not James. Knowing he hadn’t been there enough for either of them…it was breaking him.

--

Something was wrong.

Their entire world had been turned on it’s head, twisted and contorted, like some kind of nightmare. Every waking second was almost too heavy to bear, and while he tried to stay afloat, - for Lily, for his family, for the Order, and everything they were still fighting for, there was no end to it. No peace had come from it, despite Dumbledore’s promises, and now this was the price they were all paying. Re-living the worst years of their lives. Even the one good thing that had come from the past two and a half years had been taken from them, and all James wanted was.. to close his eyes, and breathe, and make it all go away. It was evident in Sirius’ expression, too. A tiredness and exhaustion in his eyes that hadn’t been there when James had seen him only a short time before.

Except.. it wasn’t a short time before, was it?

He didn’t know how long it had been since Sirius had seen him. 

How long either of them had been gone.

The words that come from his brother settle deep in his core, unnerving. They were the same, in so many aspects, - and their willingness to die for the cause was exactly what had landed them in the Order in the first place. They all knew the risks when they had signed up, and they were prepared to pay the price. Their silver lining had been painted with the invincibility of their late teens, early twenties, when magic and the world had been at their fingertips, -

And then his parents had died. And Marlene. And Harry had come. And one by one, their friends, family, Order members, had all dropped like flies, killed in their homes, and on their missions.

There was nothing invincible about it.

Sirius looked so tired. 

Like he had when he was fifteen, and he’d shown up at the estate, shaking and manic, having finally left the Black home for good. For a brief moment, James wondered if this felt the same; if Sirius had left something so distressing, so hurtful, so exhausting, that the only thing he could think to do was find James again. He seemed hesitant, too, like he was afraid James wouldn’t really be there if he had reached out, - 

But James was always good at taking the first step. 

Cigarette forgotten, abandoned to the damp grass under their feet; he reached a hand out, setting it on Sirius’ chest. There was a heartbeat, wild and frantic, - and in an instant, James was pulling him into a tight hug, arms wrapped around him like it was the only thing keeping them both afloat.

Perhaps it was.

“You’ve always been a bit of a nutter,” James huffed out, voice thick as he swallowed down his tears, and he held onto the other man. “.. I don’t know what I remember.”

mxrlenemckn​:

It had been a long, sleepless night.  Sirius had been a welcome break from the heavy realizations the day had brought.  But once they parted ways and the tequila settled into a heavy ball in her stomach she could no longer ignore the truth she had been avoiding.  It was her fault.  Fully ignoring the fact that she was the only one of her family that was in the Order, the only one with a job that would have created any sort of target upon them, there had been a million opportunities to stop it.  She should have made sure the house was protected before they all gathered there, or demanded they wait to gather until they knew they could do so safely.  When she saw the shadow she should have thrown up a shield.  When Travers removed the immobilization spell she should have fought back.  There were a million things she could have done to save her family.  She had failed them once.  It wouldn’t happen again.

July 29, 1981.  She had two and a half years.  Thirty-two months to figure out how to save them.

The headache started setting in as the sun tipped above the horizon – the second night in a row she was up before the sunrise.  She sat on the window sill, watching the sun streak orange and pink across the street.  She sat, listening as the street became alive again.  Muggles stepping out on their way to work, cheerful and energized in that way you became after a short vacation, unaware that for some people everything had changed.

Eventually the hangover induced headache escalated to the point that she was motivated into moving.  Walking barefoot across the worn carpet, she made her way to the medicine cabinet, pulling out one of the hangover potions she kept for moments like these.

She had just unstoppered the vial when a quiet knock came from her front door.  She startled, the cool, glass bottle nearly sliding through her fingers.  Tipping the potion back, she swallowed it in a single gulp and already began to feel the comforting warmth working its way through her.  In another time she may have simply been confused by the door.  Literally no one she knew would be calling on her before noon.  But curiosity go the best of her and she stepped hesitantly forward, loosely holding her wand in her right hand.

But when she opened it and saw James she froze.  It had been a long time.  Maybe not in 1979 – but in 1981 it had been over six months.  And she understood.  She had understood the need for the hiding and for the secrecy without knowing the exact reasons for it.  If they thought it was necessary she supported them; truthfully, she couldn’t think of a circumstance when she wouldn’t have supported the pair of them.  She had always understood, but she missed him and Lily.  And here he was, at her front door as if nothing had changed.

But it had for him – she had seen the look on Lily’s face, heard the glass shatter as she dropped the mugs.  She had seen the way Sirius tensed when she approached him.  She had died, been murdered. They had accepted that and maybe even mourned her a bit – and she was back, some kind of fucking ghost.

With most people she wouldn’t have considered it, but with James it had always been different.  There was something different about someone who had seen you through nearly every stage of life, from an awkward child to an adult.. sort of.   She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace.  She stood there like that for a long moment before letting out a breathy laugh.  “You look like shit, mate,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.  What a fucked up twenty-four hours it had been.  “Come on, let me make some tea.”

--

It wasn’t real.

It wasn’t real, it wasn’t real, it wasn’t real.

For how messed up the past day had been, how much information he and Lily had been forced to sit with and process, nothing had prepared him for this. Nothing could. Losing Marlene had taken an entire piece of his heart, ripped it right from his chest, and no force on Earth could have brought her back to him. He had tried to accept that, tried to live with it, had mourned every day since Moody had come to them to break the news, and James had to use every ounce of strength he had to keep Lily upright, to cling onto her like it was the only thing keeping him holding on, too. 

And now, she was here. Hugging him. Sane and sober enough to joke about how he looked.

The last time he’d seen her had been in a fucking grave.

She was everything like he remembered. Eighteen years old and bright eyed, even with the hangover that haunted her expression. Blonde hair in waves around her shoulders, wand in hand, still in the same clothes she wore the night before. Sirius had gone to see her, Lily had explained, and James had needed the few hours to reason with the fact that Marlene, his Marlene, had come back to them. As much as he’d wanted to run to her as soon as Lily had told him, James knew it was a reality he couldn’t face.

Hell, it was the exact same thing stopping him from running back to the estate, crying for his parents.

She was warm. Very much real, and very much alive. Her arms were tight around him, voice as choked up as he felt, and James stayed quiet as she suggested tea, the comment so bizarrely normal that some part of him refused to believe it was happening at all. Maybe he was still dead. Maybe this was some kind of purgatory, while Marlin or God or whoever was up there decided what to do with him, after he hadn’t done enough. Maybe this was hell, forcing him to relive the past two years of losing his friends, and his family, and fighting a losing war, and facing Voldemort again, and learning how to fucking handle everything he’d done wrong in this world.

Or. Maybe it wasn’t.

His hand lifted before he could stop it, catching Marlene’s cheek. 

They always could have been something.

“.. you’re really here?” he asked finally, still in the threshold of her home, afraid to take another step forward. James searched her eyes, looking for the truth in them, and felt tears in his own. “You’re -”

selene - would you rather the sky had no moon or no stars?

"I'm not answering this question."

who: @mxrlenemckn​ when: january 2nd, 1979 where: marlene’s flat

He hadn’t slept all night.

It was impossible. Not when he knew what he knew. Not when his friends had been hurt, so badly, for so long. Trying to wrap his head around why he and Lily were back in the first place had been a challenging enough venture, but after facing Remus and Sirius, and hearing Lily had gone to Peter’s, all of it was simply.. too much. Too much for any one man. The exhaustion had settled deep into his core, had made a home right alongside his mourning, and James had learned to sit with it, alternating between staying in bed with Lily, holding her as she cried, to sitting out in the back garden, and simply looking up at the stars.

He’d become so accustomed to sleeping with a fussing baby in the night, that having the Hollow be so quiet was simply too unnerving. There was no pattern of feedings, or bedtime stories, or baths to take. Their routine had been entirely wiped clean, replaced by the pair working on autopilot to unpack what boxes they could.

The few moments of sleep he managed to get were plagued by nightmares, and flashes of green, and the haunting sight of his son, in that forest, ready to go. None of it felt right, like they had been nightmares, - more like prophecies. Visions. Memories of what could be.

Harry had been ready to die.

The guilt could swallow him whole.

Finding Lily after lunch had been.. a challenge. Not because she had gone anywhere, but simply because someone had come to her.

A ghost. A memory of what was, from their own past.

Marlene.

It was his final straw. The thing that broke him. Losing Marlene had been devastating, beyond all belief, and hearing that she was back, - how was he supposed to believe that? How was that supposed to help make any sense of what was going on? They may have been brought back from the dead, Remus and Sirius may have lived whole lives, gone on decades without them, but Marlene had died before them.

And now, two years in the past, she was visiting their house to steal their food, like she always had, as if nothing was wrong.

Lily had only just calmed him enough to get him to breathe again, arms tight around him as he choked on air. She had soothed him, healed him, petted through his hair until he could find his balance again, held his face and reassured him that he was alright, that Marlene was alright, and that she would be there, waiting, when he was ready.

Which was where he found himself the next morning, standing at the door to her flat. 

It looked the exact same. Cracking paint, a crooked number. A little imperfect, just like Marlene. 

If she wasn’t behind the door, he wouldn’t know what to do.

James knocked.

nighttimestorrm​:

who: @jamiespxtter​ when: 1st january 1959 where: potters home

Despite how quickly Sirius had rushed to Godrics Hollow he couldn’t bring himself to go up the door. Instead he paced up and down the street, trying to control his shaking hands and his beating heart. Still none of this felt real. It must be a dream or some sort of hallucination. But there Godrics Hollow was, just how he remembered it before he came here on Halloween to find destroyed. He could still remember that night. The images would forever be in his memory, never to go away and instead would haunt his dreams. He could still hear the sound of Harry crying. He could remember begging Hagrid to give him to him. He was his Godfather. It was up to him to take care of him. But, no. That had been taken away from him. Just like everything else.

Shaking his head he forced himself to come to a stop and stared at the front door. What if they weren’t there? If it were only him that had been brought back to this time then it would feel as though he had lost them all over again. And he wasn’t strong enough to suffer that. If he walked in there and the place was empty. Or worse…the same as he last time he had saw it. That would break him beyond repair. So he just stood there. It was still early enough that the street was still quiet. Yet he knew he couldn’t stand there forever. So, not being brave enough to go up to the front door he tried to quietly make his way around the back. He would look in the window and see if there was any sign of life. And if not…then he didn’t know what he was going to do.

But as soon as he stepped into the back garden he froze. He just stared as there stood James, looking back at him. And he didn’t know what to do. There was a chance that James knew nothing of what was going on. That it was only Sirius that was effect by…whatever this is. So he knew he should at least try to act somewhat normal. But he couldn’t. A lump formed in his throat while he blinked away tears from his blurring eyes, scared that if he couldn’t see James he would disappear. Part of him still believed this was just a dream. But he didn’t care right in this moment. Because there was James just as he remembered him. A little bit younger but…still there. Alive.

He couldn’t move. If he did he knew he would just fall to his knees. All these years of missing his friend, his brother, came crashing over him like a wave threatening to drown him. There were so many things he wanted to say but he didn’t even know where to begin. He just wanted to forget about everything else for just a moment. Right now he just wanted his friend back. Yet he were afraid to reach out in case he were nothing but a ghost. And still, he would take that over nothing.

“J-James.” He finally managed to choke out and before he crumbled and let the sob he had been holding in take over him, a tear escaping down his cheek. “Are you…you’re real…right?” 

--

It’s been a long morning.

It aches in his bones, and over his shoulders. In his eyes, where he’s cried until he simply can’t cry any more, and deep, deep in his chest, an ache of a loss he can’t quite face yet. It’s not a question of where is Harry, because he’s simply not there any more, taken from existence like he meant nothing to the world. To them.

He knows Lily feels it, too. He can see it in the way she avoids going upstairs, the way she lingers around where his high chair used to be by their little kitchen table. So much of their life, their own existence, had been so entirely centered around him. Everything James had known about himself had shifted, geared into something newer, something better; a father, and a husband, a man who made promises, and kept them. And while he had wanted to believe he had done everything right, had put up the best fight he possibly could have to keep his family safe, the odds had been stacked against them. He barely stood a chance. Voldemort had the upper hand, had all the insider information to come to their home, to take what was theirs, to target their son.

He can’t face Peter. He refuses to.

He’d barely lasted two seconds in his own fight against Voldemort. It eats him up inside.

Breathing is hard. Living with that fact, is hard. It clings to his skin like ice, keeping him tense and cold, and for the second time that night, James finds himself out on the back step, the action familiar and foreign all the same. His hand is shaking as he lifts the cigarette to his lips, and he uses the tip of his wand to light it, frowning when he just can’t seem to steady his hand. It’s easier, in front of Lily, when he has to keep a brave face.

Alone? James is close to cracking.

There’s a sound by the side gate, and everything in him freezes up.

It’s too soon. It’s too much. Before he can help it, his heart is pounding in his chest, hard enough to hurt, and he raises his shaking hand, wand trembling in his grasp. They’ve faced too much to deal with this, again. He can’t handle this, again.

- only it’s Sirius, who comes around the side of the house, stopping dead when he spots him.

Time is suspended, for a moment. It hangs in the air, a weight between them he hasn’t experienced in the ten years they’ve been friends, brothers. James can see him, the way he had been, older and tattooed and so tired as they stood beside Harry in the forest, - and when he blinks, Sirius is nineteen again, crying as he looks at James.

“Pads, -” he manages, voice strangled, and James takes a step, and another, wand dropping until they’re barely a distance apart, “- Sirius?”

ofmollyweasley​:

Who:​​​ @jamiespxtter Where: order meeting

it didn’t matter how old molly got, her brothers knew how to piss her off. and they had a way of perfectly timing it so her anger could boil over after them leaving. this time, it was giving her oldest son a bunch of candy right before she got home only for her to come home to a sugar rushed child. then they left, sighting an order meeting, before her realizing how bad it truly was. 

if they were going to act like children, she will absolutely stoop to their level. she will go to them and absolutely destroy them. she knew it was childish, but she needed the rare occasion to let her inner child come out, especially with everything going on and what was to come.

molly probably knew too much about the order meetings than she should considering she wasn’t an official member, but she also had her brothers to protect and if it meant keeping a close eye on them, she would do it. she had grown up with fabian and gideon and she raised seven children after all. she was good at detective work (maybe she should join if only for her nosiness). 

with her children safely in bed and her mother-in-law watching them, she flooed to the order meeting and peeped her head into they room they were in, only to see harry’s face looking at her. she scanned the room for her brothers before looking back at the face she thought was harry’s. her face fell. it wasn’t harry’s. it james potter.

--

The Order meetings had been a bad decision.

A good decision, in the beginning. A great one. James knew they were fighting for a good cause, had been so willing to do his part to make things right. When he was eighteen, and Dumbledore had approached them with a request to join forces, with the belief that he had seen great things in them that could save the world, - and they had caved, fallen under his spell, toppled like a house of cards. It was hard not to, when he had been promising a better tomorrow.

The days never got better.

Now, attending the meeting made him feel suffocated. He stayed by the door just in case, all too aware of the clawing feeling that climbed up his throat and threatened to make him sick all over again, but he did his best to will it down, expression stony as he watched the group around them discuss their next steps. Half of them hadn’t even shown up.

Neither had Peter.

Very few people knew about the Order. Knew what they were doing. Those who knew were usually those who were fighting alongside them, - and still, when movement caught his attention out of the corner of his eye, the last person he expected to see standing just outside the door was Molly Weasley. For a brief moment, he had been sure he was imagining it, - though that red a hair was hard to fake.

He waited, only a moment, before taking his leave and slipping out the door, only to find Molly waiting at the end of he hallway.

“Your brothers haven’t shown up, yet,” he started softly, in explanation, a hand reaching out to pull the older woman into a hug. “What are you doing here?”

mooneychild​:

who: @jamiespxtter​​ when: 1st January 1979 where: the Potters’

As soon as Remus felt caught up with Lily - at least caught up for the time being - he rushed to Harry’s nursery to face James. He was a bit surprised he didn’t crash their conversation, but part of him was grateful for it. There were so many emotions running through him at once and seeing James and Lily together may have overloaded it.

Remus didn’t get to spend much time in the nursery they’d set up for Harry and it felt even odder now that Harry wasn’t there to fill it. James’s back was turned to him, so he knocked on the door frame so not to scare him. Though he’d probably give him a fright either way given their circumstances.

His heart swelled when James turned around. He almost cried when Lily hugged him, but this felt entirely different. He felt like his chest was being filled up, like something missing had found its place again.

“You know, you’d think I’d be prepared after essentially staring at your face for the last five years, but…” He moved across the room to James and wrapped him in a hug. “I can’t believe it’s you.”

--

Boxes. He was surrounded by boxes. 

Big ones, small ones, a desk that needed to be built, still. It wasn’t a nursery at all; any evidence they had ever been expecting a child was simply gone, like none of it had mattered. Instead, in it’s place, were the remnants of what they had hesitantly called Lily’s home office, before she had found out she was pregnant. Most of those things had been put away in storage, or used in another room, and now they were here, taking up Harry’s place.

James couldn’t breathe.

He didn’t know how long he had stood there, simply staring. Time had come to a standstill, and for moments, minutes, hours, all he could do was look, trying to remember where everything went. Harry’s crib had been against the far wall, and the rocking chair beside it. A toy box, a blanket box, his changing table. All of it, gone. Even just looking at the room hurt far more than he could ever think of putting into words. It had been his idea to volunteer to go up to the room, knowing that looking at the empty space where there son had been, where she had - 

It would be the last thing she would want. And the last thing he wanted for her.

The knock to the door pulled him out of it, and James turned, fully expecting his wife to be standing there. In her place, however, stood a man he hadn’t seen in some time, and James felt the wind knocked from his chest all over again.

“- Remus, -” he started, the name weak on his lips. The hug was more than welcome, - it was desperately needed, and he grabbed onto the other man for dear life, a weak, wet laugh catching in his chest.

“The last - five years?” The words were an echo, and James pulled back to look at him, holding him tightly, “What are you talking about?”

mcrningecans​:

who: @jamiespxtter where: the potter cottage. when: january 1, 1979.

      LILY STILL COULDN’T BELIEVE IT. James stood before her, flesh and blood, and she didn’t think it would ever fully settle in her brain. They’d stayed in the hallway for what felt like an eternity, her fingers digging into his back until she cried out what felt like all the water in her body. He’d wiped them away for her, and she’d kissed his cheeks, as if that would stop the tears. But more came, for both of them, as their new reality settled on them like a wet blanket. Where was Harry? 

     Like clockwork, though, they’d drifted into the kitchen. Lily, still sniffling, had begun to root through the cabinets to find the tea kettle, mostly because it kept her busy, but also because it had been a while, and she’d like to taste a cuppa again. She’d kept it in a different spot when they’d first moved in, of course, and eventually moved it when they started using it every evening. Now, the kettle was singing, and Lily used magic to pour two cups and deliver them. She didn’t have the energy to move, after all, not now, not when James was so close. All she wanted to do was stay beside him, and figure out what was going on. After all, they’d always been able to figure everything else out together. They’d get this too.

     A small sip sent warmth through her body, and Lily allowed herself to breathe again. Shoulders fell, jaw slackened, eyelids lowered. They’d all been struggling since she’d woke, and Lily felt the tiredness that came with all these discoveries. Still, she didn’t want to rest. She couldn’t. Now, she needed a plan. She needed James. Her James. Lilys fingers reached for his again just because here she could. Here, at least, she had his hand to hold onto. “I don’t know what to say,” Lily managed, the first real words she’d spoken that weren’t obscured by her tears. What did you say to the person you loved most in the world, who you thought you’d lost? “His room is empty James. Like when we just moved in. The home office I wanted to set up? That’s what’s upstairs. A bunch of boxes full of ingredients. And, I mean, we’re okay… You’re not–” She sucked in a deep breath, because her eyes already were red-rimmed, and she didn’t need anymore tears to fall out by confirming what he already knew. 

     “What–what do you remember?”

--

He would have stayed there for a lifetime, if that was what she needed. 

They both needed it, really, and James held onto his wife desperately, a hand threading through her hair to nestle at the nape of her neck, trying to soothe her as best as he could. That sensation alone simply didn’t feel real, - none of it did, and while part of him wanted to believe this was some twisted game the fates were playing on them, there was simply no explanation for it. Every shuddering breath she took, every sob that wracked her chest, James simply held on tighter, relieved to at least feel alive again. It was a small mercy, he knew, but what else could be said? Their home had changed, as had they.

He had died. He was sure of it.

Lily’s breathing calmed him. She settled, eventually, as did he; though nothing could ever pull him away from her. Not now. Losing her had been the hardest thing he thought he would ever have to face, and now that the reality was setting in, there were much worse things coming for them. Even as they made their way to the kitchen, James kept a hand on her, needing the solid, affirming reminder that she really was there. It was the only thing that kept him standing upright, kept him pushing through the agonizing, deep ache that had settled in his chest, a loss he didn’t quite know how to deal with. One he hadn’t prepared for. Dumbledore had never given them any warning about this.

She was working on autopilot as she found the kettle, and used her magic to make them both a cup of tea. He felt too sick to drink it, but took the warm cup in one hand anyway, another sensation that felt borderline bizarre. Their table is small enough to leave them sitting side-by-side, and James moved his chair to sit facing her, hunched forward, his free hand rested carefully on her thigh.

He needed to hold her. He needed to know she was real. She relaxed slightly, after a sip, and James let his hand move, rubbing soothing circles against her leg. His own autopilot.

“.. he killed me.”

Saying it hurt more than he could bear.

“I - I told you to go. To get Harry, and leave. And then - I looked at him, and he -”

James had barely put up a fight. He dropped his head, the guilt turning in his stomach, as he stared down at the cup in his hand.

“ What am I to you…? “ 

Sirius asks it in the dead of night.

The room is pitch black around them. It's not that noticeable, when they're hidden under the invisibility cloak anyway, bathed in their own kind of darkness. It had helped, he said, to imagine that no-one could see them right now, and James couldn't have refused him.

He didn't want to. He never wants to.

It makes sense, that the estate was the first place Sirius had thought to come to. Going home wasn't an option, especially not when home was no longer home. And while every part of him wanted to go face Sirius' parents himself, that wasn't exactly an option, either. There were far too many stupid politics in play, and with rumours about some kind of dark age happening amongst pureblood families, it was something he didn't want to get involved in.

But this was the beginning of it. Sirius refused to commit to their ways, and this was the price he paid.

His parents had been understanding. Loving. They had opened the door to Sirius without a second thought, welcomed him into their home, had set up a bedroom to call his own. They'd stocked the pantry with Sirius' favorite foods, even without him asking, - hell, he'd stayed quiet for most of the night, sitting out on the back step, staring into nothingness.

And now, the question comes, small and scared.

Sirius has never been small and scared.

James is hurting all over.

".. we've always been different," he mumbles back, and he can see how the cloak is helping. He feels safe, shielded, undetected, and he can speak without any fear.

He could always speak his mind around Sirius, anyway.

"Me and you, I mean. I know it's always been the four of us, and it always will be, but, -" Something catches in his throat, and James swallows around it. "But we're different. I think we were always meant to be together. You were always supposed to come here."

He hopes it's what Sirius needs to hear, and he pushes on.

"I'll always be with you, you know." James says it in a whisper. "I'll always be on your side. Even when we're a thousand years old. It's always been me and you."

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.

‘Hold up’

He'd been just about to head out the door when Molly's hand stops him, pulling him back into the Burrow before he can protest.

Not that he wants to, really. The house is warm, and lively, hopping with toddlers and smelling of good, homecooked food, but James knows better than to overstay his welcome. He'd only dropped by to thank Molly, for the millionth time, for the few things she'd given them in preparation for the baby coming. What was supposed to be a quick ten minute stop, however, has turned into a two hour conversation over several cups of tea, and he really needs to get back to the Order before nightfall.

But Molly seems insistent, tugging him back gently, and he's not in a mind to protest. Everything she says, everything she thinks, is crucial. Important. He holds her opinion in higher regard than most, and the last few months have proven that. They've become true friends, he's sure of it, - and with Molly's own boy on the way, he doesn't doubt they'll end up wrapped up in each other's lives for some time.

He's expecting her to say something, and he turns to look at her.

She says nothing, but instead, pulls him into a tight, loving hug.

It's nice.

Safe.

James finds himself grinning, arms wrapping around Molly to give her a, - gentle, - squeeze.

"Thank you," he states, the words soft between them. "Sincerely."

“ What am I to you…? “

It's not a question he expects her to ask.

He knows everything about Marlene McKinnon. He knows what exact height she was at the age of seven, and just how she likes her tea. He knows her parents' middle names, and her favourite colour, and what song she's sung in the shower the most times. He knows what flowers she wants at her wedding, - though she'll never admit to wanting one, - and he knows how his heart breaks, every time she's ever unsure of herself.

Marlene is a whole world, wrapped up in blonde hair and fists, a wicked wit and a brutally honest truth.

To him? She's the whole fucking universe.

It hurts, whenever she has doubts. Their relationship has ebbed and flowed in so many different ways, - they've kissed, and cuddled in bed, and shared bedrooms, and dreams. They've pinky-promised a life together, and had massive, blow-out fights, over the most stupid things. In the middle of a war, James knows she has his back, just like, - he hopes, - she knows he has hers. They've been through far too much, over fifteen years of friendship, to ever doubt that.

Maybe he doesn't say it enough.

They always joke about these kinds of things.

He doesn't hesitate when he reaches out, lacing his fingers with Marlene's, the way they used to when they were little. It's never been something Lily's ever had to worry about, thank Merlin, and there's a comfort in it. Marlene's seen sides of him he doesn't like, sides of him no-one else has, and he knows the answer to her question can barely be put into words.

".. you're better than a sister," he decides, looking at her, voice honest and even, "and better than a friend. I don't think I'd be me without you."

'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.

“Can any single person shut the fuck up about any single thing for an hour?”

"Would that include you?"

He asks it dryly, far too hungover to be anyway amused by Sirius' ramblings. The light peeking through the curtains of the bedroom is far too bright, the sound of someone pottering around downstairs is far too loud, - which, actually, is probably what Sirius is talking about in the first place, - and his head is pounding. For the most part, he can tolerate everything his brother says, greets his words with a warm grin and a wicked sense of humor, -

But his wedding is in two hours, he's lost his glasses and his left shoe, and all he can remember about the night before is the roar of Sirius' motorbike.

And firewhiskey. Lots of firewhiskey.

James turns over on the bed, hand reaching out blindly for his wand. It's not on the bedside table, and for a moment, he's confused, frowning as he tries to see through the blur of his shitty vision.

"Have you seen my wand?" he croaks out, rolling over to actually attempt to sit up, stomach lurching in the process. "Where the bloody hell are my glasses?"

"I would answer both of those questions and more," Sirius retorts, voice coming from somewhere on the floor, in a pile of blankets, "however, since you so rudely suggested I shut up, I intend to do just that."

His wand isn't there, but there's a book on the nightstand.

James throws it at him.

☆ + pepperoni pizza

"Are you talking about her birthday party, when we were nine?"

He says it with a wicked grin, beyond amused.

"Ask her about it. I dare you."

“ What am I to you…? ”

".. everything."

It's an honest answer, and James peeks his eyes open, blinking in the morning light to look at her. There's no hesitance when he says it, and the fact that he can say it is more of a relief than he ever thought possible.

They're two weeks into November, the Christmas break coming up on them fast and sudden, and he likes this. He likes the questions, and the curiosity, and the way she pokes at him, trying to read his thoughts. He likes that she wants to know what he's thinking, what he's seeing, what's on his mind when he's around her. It's like she's trying to figure out every aspect of how he works, and he's more than willing to let her. He's always worn his heart on his sleeve, so most of it is an easy read; but with Lily, it's in the palm of his hand, offered for her to take.

He can't lie to her. He never has.

The dorm is quiet for a Saturday morning, and they're curled up on his bed together. Lily's tucked up beside him, warm under his arm where she's laying down between him and a spare pillow, and James feels protective. They're safe, in their own little bubble, the curtains of his bed mostly pulled around them for a little privacy; and clearly she feels the same, if she's brave enough to ask the question.

He closes his eyes again, completely at ease, honest and open.

"You've always been everything."

☆ + QUIDDITCH

"Seeing her in the stands, way back in Hogwarts, cheering us on."

He says it with a laugh, light on his lips, a fondness shining in his eyes. It comes naturally, when he thinks of Lily. "I remember.. - our first match, in sixth year, against Hufflepuff. It wasn't even a big one, just a friendly game, to get the ball rolling for the year. But we'd had a really good summer, and she had actually said hi to me on the train on the way there, and just before the match, she'd wished me luck."

He grins then, lifts a hand to his hair, a soft, embarrassed flush of pink tinting his cheeks. "She shouted my name from the stands, and I was so distracted, I got hit in the head with a quaffle. Absolutely worth it."

“Can any single person shut the fuck up about any single thing for an hour?”

"That would actually involve people being competent and considerate, and you and I both know that's pretty hard to come by."

He answers before he thinks, only glancing up when Amelia comes to a stop beside him. As vast and all-encompassing as it is, the Ministry is surprisingly small, and James finds himself bumping into the same people on the regular. It's not an uncommon thing; most people working within it's walls are on a tight, routine schedule, and end of following the same pattern, day in, day out. James feels like an outlier sometimes, floating in and out to collect missions, to attend training and debriefs, most of which can already be done on the field.

It has been nice, however, to see Amelia again. He's known her almost ten years, now, and known her for about a year. They get on, and he's always appreciative of a familiar face. The little coffee shop across from the telephone box is where they usually cross paths, and today is no different.

She's frowning like she's sick of the world, leveling him with an unamused glare, and James turns back to the boy behind the counter with a grin, asking politely for another cup of tea for Amelia.

He's got a feeling she needs a minute to relax.

☆ + Trust

".. we trusted him. Wasn't that the whole point?"

There's a slight frown on his face when he says it, a furrow on his brow that won't shift. It's a combination of things, - confusion, distrust. Hurt. A strange mix of emotions that twist painfully in the pit of his stomach, and James shifts in his seat, obviously not quite right.

"I wanted to believe that what we had was strong enough. I did believe it. We wouldn't have made him our secret keeper if we didn't. Peter was my brother, and now -" James stops, the words dying in his throat. It hurts to say.

"- now, I don't know what to do."

“It’s been a decade since you’ve been gone.”

"Don't be so dramatic, Moons."

There's a crooked grin on his lips as he steps into the shack, a bag of goodies thrown over one shoulder. Getting to the castle and back had been a challenge, especially with McGonagall on edge around the full moon anyway, and while he appreciates her concern, they very obviously have this entire thing under control.

They've healed Remus' wounds to the best of their abilities, and settled for muggle bandages for the rest. He'd earned a laugh and a shove, when he'd tried to kiss the cut on Remus' cheek, and that was reassurance enough to know his best friend was alright.

Peter had stayed with him as he and Sirius made the trek back to the castle, picking up a selection of essentials; chocolate from the house elves, clean clothes, a blanket to keep around his shoulders for the walk back. It wasn't long, but James knew he would be tired, and every little thing would help.

"I made it worth the wait, though," he adds, kneeling down where Remus is sitting against the edge of the bed, covered only by the blanket they'd left there the month before. From the bag, he pulls out a piece of chocolate cake, a little smushed in it's wrapping, but still warm from the ovens.

"Saved you a slice," James teases.

“Oh, if I’m self-aware about being a douchebag, it’ll somehow make me less of a douchebag.”

"Those two things don't cancel each other out."

They're sprawled out on the common room floor, arms spread wide, gazing up at the towering ceiling above them. Sometimes he looks up at the very top, and James feels like the room goes on for miles, swallowing him whole. It's spinning, swirling right where it reaches the apex, held together with supportive beams, and decades of magic and hope.

Sirius is beside him, toes warmed by the fireplace, and James can almost reach his hand with his own. Peter and Remus had long since gone to bed, retiring a little after midnight, and he and Padfoot had been left alone.

It's never a bad thing.

He doesn't believe Sirius is a douchebag. Or an arsehole, or a twat, or any of those things. But he knows Sirius better than most. Better than anyone. He'd moved into the estate last summer, and James had gained a real brother, someone to truly call family when he was so far away from his parents.

Sirius has always been family. Sirius has always deserved family.

James moves his hand then, knocking his fingers against Sirius' lightly.

"Stop stealing my socks, though. I'm running out."

“So either get with it or get out of the fucking way.”

Amelia Bones is a fucking force to be reckoned with.

James is a little convinced he's in love with her.

She stands tall, the picture of seventh year, head-girl, quidditch-playing, all-woman perfection. Maybe it's the fact that he's actually there, at their first quidditch lesson with Hooch, aiming to hold an air of confidence she's clearly overflowing with. The quidditch pitch is Amelia's turf, and he's not about to try to get in her way in the first place, but that doesn't mean the warning doesn't send a chill up his spine. He wants to believe she's actually paying attention to him, but her list of warnings is crucial, and fair.

All well-deserved, considering half the students who had shown up look bloody well terrified.

She's just there to observe, Hooch had reassured them. Even though she was playing for the Hufflepuff team, - one third their rivals, he had to remind himself, - James still feels a need to impress her. Especially when she seems entirely unconvinced that any of them will actually be good enough to beat her legacy.

Amelia glances at him as she says it, and James flushes pink, trying not to grin.

He loves quidditch.

“The coffee is free, just like me.”

"You're priceless, Molly."

He says it with an exhausted grin, one hand gratefully taking the cup she offers. It's late enough in the evening for coffee, but James feels jittery all over, like he's not quite right. Normally a cup of tea with Lily would be exactly what the healer ordered, but while his wife is on her mission with Moody, he's willing to take all the alternative help he can get.

Molly Weasley is a blessing. Her showing up at the Hollow had been a surprise in itself, but not an unwelcome one. They've been getting a little closer, lately, chatting more and more, thanks to her brothers. And with the baby on the way, James has.. sort of become attached, to her. She's smart. And kind. Her kids are rascals, but James knows she'd do absolutely anything for them. Everything she has is everything he wants in a family, and they're right on the edge of getting it, Lily's bump growing every day.

The Burrow is much bigger than the Potter's cottage, and he's only been there a handful of times. Every day, she's added something new; another bed, another room, a new painting, new wallpaper, fresh flowers, more vegetables in the garden. It's a home, and he feels welcome there.

He wants the Hollow to feel the same to her. Like a welcome home. Like family.

Doors

HEADCANON:

The Potter estate is big.

It's not unwelcoming, or imposing, by any means. Any aspect of being too much is immediately washed away by his mother's warm hugs, his father's booming laughter as he greets guests, and the fact that it's James' home. Marlene had been enamored by the place from her first steps inside of it, and while he had tried to be boastful about how many rooms were simply for sleeping in, she had been more interested in the doors.

There had been many generations, passed through the estate. And with it came many tastes, and senses of style, and urges to make a house a home. All of these things added together had turned the estate into a miss-match of different rooms and different stylistic ages, the house it's own portrait of a family tree woven into the very brick work and foundations.

There's big doors. Small doors. Doors with peeling paint, and doors made of concrete, reinforced with charms. Doors for house elves, and doors for half-giants. The back garden can be reached through wide, gaping, fifteen-foot-tall glass doors, - or through the little side entrance, a little wooden door, built into the side of the kitchen.

Marlene had laughed at him once, at the age of fourteen, when he had walked through and smacked his forehead right off the awning.

He was left with a bruise on his forehead for a week.

He's learned to duck.

Wine

It's their first night living alone.

The flat is tiny, with a balcony, and a double bed, pushed up under the window. The kitchen is just barely big enough for the two of them, but they've been graduates now for three whole months, and summer is ending. As enjoyable as it had been to spend the warmer days wrapped up in the comfort of his own bedroom in the estate, something in James longs for more. He's nineteen, now, the excitement of being an independent adult buzzing at his fingertips. He starts Auror training in a few weeks, and then..

There's no Hogwarts to go back to, in September. No more sharing a dorm with his best friends, or sharing a common room with a whole quarter of the school population. He's gone from being surrounded by hundreds of students on a regular basis, to this.

If James is being honest, he prefers this.

This, is a life with Lily. This, is a home, their own, built together. He hadn't hesitated to ask, and she hadn't hesitated to say yes, just as eager as he had been to catch up on the time they had lost. It's abundant, now. There's still boxes to unpack. A life to start, together. They're just shy of a year into officially being a couple, and still, every day, he wakes up happier than before.

And it's all thanks to Lily.

There's a bright grin on his lips when he opens the cheap bottle of wine, pouring it out into two wine glasses. Clear crystal, the most expensive thing in the flat, and a moving out gift from his parents. The wine is blood red, sharp and sweet, and James carries the two glasses over to where she's perched on the couch, curled up, content, like there's nowhere else she'd rather be.

She smiles at him, just as happy as he is.

There's nowhere else he'd rather be.

❝ Where does it hurt?❞

"Just here, mostly," he answers, giving a vague gesture to his other shoulder, with the arm that wasn't currently wrapped up in a bandage and sling.

Charity's presence in the hospital wing is almost a surprise. He says almost, if only because their paths have crossed within the castle so many times now that he actually considers them a friend. Stargazing in the astronomy tower, chatting after matches, taking a moment to sit with each other during breakfast, before most of the castle was up and awake. He's asked for their help with divination essays on more than one occasion, and Charity has always been more than happy to offer some advice.

And now, here, when he's stuck in a bed, having dislocated his shoulder and broken his arm, - "Badly," Poppy had warned him, like she'd be ready to hex him if he did it again. They've popped up again, greeting him with way more patience and gentle consideration that he deserves. Charity takes up a place in the chair beside James' bed, and he's more than grateful.

"I should be out by tomorrow," he adds, hoping the statement is reassurance enough that he's fine, and James flashes them a wide grin, "you know nothing can keep me down."