take a good look, James Potter
Author's Note: Forgive me, I'm terribly new to this whole fic-writing thing. Lol actually this probably the first thing I've ever written that can actually be classified as fic, so bear with me? Many many thanks and a whole lot of love to afinewitch's mun and another friend of mine for helping me with this. ILU muchly.
James Potter stared at himself in the mirror. He looked absolutely terrible, he knew. At some point in the night he must have been hit pretty hard just under his eye as a big, purple bruise had started blooming over his cheek. There were several scratches on his cheek and down his neck and he was sure he’d find many more as he undressed.
It had become something of a ritual for him, these showers. Every full moon he and Sirius and Peter would follow Remus under the whomping willow to brave the night that Remus was forced to succumb to the animal inside him. The normally quiet and mild-mannered boy he knew so well would transform into something dark and wild, incapable of recognizing his own friends. Every time it scared James to death. He and the others would all transform, too, into their respective animagus forms to help keep Remus. Watching Remus and Sirius in his dog form bite and snarl and claw at each other was the worst, James thought. Because they always did. Remus would inevitably catch a whiff of some passerby and Sirius was always first to catch him. James would inevitably be unable to stop himself from trying to get his antlers between them - anything to break them up, really. They’d fight and they’d try to keep Remus at bay and they’d all be bloody and battered by the end of it. He wasn’t sure where the others would go to recover after, but these showers were his. His time to remember who he was and his time to regenerate into his own brash, youthful, and happy self. His time to wake up.
James turned his head to get a better look at the four long parallel stripes across his jaw and neck. Moony had gotten him good, this go-around. These would definitely be hard to mend without scarring. Sighing, he started on the buttons of his white school shirt, gingerly pulling his arms from the sleeves.
Moony was growling. That low, carnal growl he got when he could smell human flesh but he was still trying to remember his own humanity. Whoever was passing by would get a nasty fright when Remus would start howling but nothing more, James was sure. He lifts his heavy, white head, his ears perked and trying to listen for any danger.
But there aren’t any steps outside.
James listens harder, his ears turning all about, trying to make sense of it. No one outside, Moony’s growling louder, and even Padfoot next to him was perked up with a strange glint in his eye. His blood pumps through his too-sensitive ears and and his fur stands on end, ready to bolt at the the crouched werewolf next to him.
“Merlin,” James hissed as he pulled his dirty, bloodstained undershirt over his head, the rough fabric of it brushing painfully across the deep cuts at his neck. He cringed against the flare the spread through his chest, teeth bared and eyes squeezed shut. “Bloody hell, Moony. You owe me for this one.”
He tossed the shirt to the stone floor and looked over his chest.. There was another gash across his chest and there were several bruises decorating his ribs. Nothing out of the normal.
No bite marks.
A sudden creak from downstairs sends three spring-loaded bodies at each other, growls and barks and a loud crash resounding through the small house as they fall to the ground. James is barely able to pull away in time to see greasy-haired and spidery-limbed boy burst through the door, a cackle escaping from the burly black dog.
James doesn’t think, he just charges. He drives Severus Snape back out of the room quickly transforms back into himself, shutting and magically locking the door behind him with a furious wave of his wand.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Snape?” he shouts, already red in the face.
Snape is white in the face and clutching his chest, his eyes wild. “Does Dumbledore know you’re keeping that monster?” he gasps back, his lips curled in a sneer. " And what about the parents? I'm sure they’d like to hear about this.”
“That’s a person, Snape, and until now nothing’s ever happened,” James pointed out, his brows furrowed into a hard line, “How in bloody hell did you even know how to get here?”
A twisted smile curls over Snape’s lips at this. “Why don’t you ask the dog? I do assume he’s the dog, yes?” he spits. “It’s stupidly obvious, come to think of it.”
“You’re lying,” James shook his head, feeling like his inside were falling through his stomach.
“Black always did have a terrible temper.”
“You’re a bastard.”
“And you four are endangering the entire school,” Snape replies haughtily. “You can’t stop me from going to Dumbledore with this. The Ministry, even, or the Prophet.”
“Remus has never done anything to you! He’s defended you, tried to stop me and Sirius from being such arses to you!” James shouts, stepping closer and clenching his fists. “This is how you repay him?”
“Well,” Snape sneers. “I guess the genius can’t be good at everything. You and Black are still arses.”
James cries out, shoving Snape against the wall. “Fight me! Get back at me! Leave him out of this!
Snape always had known the nastiest curses. This one sends James reeling, slamming him against the opposite wall while the other boy slips back through the secret passage to Hogwarts.
Slowly stepping out of his trousers and boxers, James gingerly ambled to the small school shower to turn on the warm water. That first sting of the water sinking into his fresh cuts was always the worst part and he braced himself for the sharp pain before stepping in. He hissed at the high burn of it, clinging to the wall and needing a moment to get used to it, his eyes squeezed shut.
What had happened last night? He’d never thought this stupid school rivalry could go so far. He never thought that Sirius would be so stupid, and he’d never thought he could be so angry. James knew Snape could very easily have died only hours ago. And Moony would have never have forgiven himself.
James let the water wash over him. He let it drip into his wounds and wash away the dirt. He didn’t even care that it hurt. He welcomed this pain because he knew exactly why it hurt. He knew he could mend these cuts and heal these bruises with a few waves of his wand but how was he supposed to understand this new ache in his chest?
He was scared, terrified out of his wits. All of the sudden everything seemed so real to him. It was halfway through his sixth year and his time to be a stupid kid was swiftly running out. He didn’t want to be this James Potter anymore, The James Potter whose jokes everyone laughed at but no one ever took seriously. Lily had never taken him seriously and perhaps he was starting to understand why.
James cleaned his cuts, cringing at every slip of his hand, and finally turned off the steady flow of water. Breathing heavily, he stood there in the stall a long moment, knowing nothing would ever be the same for him again. He wasn’t sure he wanted to grow up but apparently that wasn’t his choice to make. He couldn’t run from it.
Stepping out the shower, James stared at himself in the mirror. He had to squint to see clearly without his glasses. He didn’t look any older. He just felt it.
James Potter stared at himself in the mirror. He looked absolutely terrible, he knew. At some point in the night he must have been hit pretty hard just under his eye as a big, purple bruise had started blooming over his cheek. There were several scratches on his cheek and down his neck and he was sure he’d find many more as he undressed.
It had become something of a ritual for him, these showers. Every full moon he and Sirius and Peter would follow Remus under the whomping willow to brave the night that Remus was forced to succumb to the animal inside him. The normally quiet and mild-mannered boy he knew so well would transform into something dark and wild, incapable of recognizing his own friends. Every time it scared James to death. He and the others would all transform, too, into their respective animagus forms to help keep Remus. Watching Remus and Sirius in his dog form bite and snarl and claw at each other was the worst, James thought. Because they always did. Remus would inevitably catch a whiff of some passerby and Sirius was always first to catch him. James would inevitably be unable to stop himself from trying to get his antlers between them - anything to break them up, really. They’d fight and they’d try to keep Remus at bay and they’d all be bloody and battered by the end of it. He wasn’t sure where the others would go to recover after, but these showers were his. His time to remember who he was and his time to regenerate into his own brash, youthful, and happy self. His time to wake up.
James turned his head to get a better look at the four long parallel stripes across his jaw and neck. Moony had gotten him good, this go-around. These would definitely be hard to mend without scarring. Sighing, he started on the buttons of his white school shirt, gingerly pulling his arms from the sleeves.
Moony was growling. That low, carnal growl he got when he could smell human flesh but he was still trying to remember his own humanity. Whoever was passing by would get a nasty fright when Remus would start howling but nothing more, James was sure. He lifts his heavy, white head, his ears perked and trying to listen for any danger.
But there aren’t any steps outside.
James listens harder, his ears turning all about, trying to make sense of it. No one outside, Moony’s growling louder, and even Padfoot next to him was perked up with a strange glint in his eye. His blood pumps through his too-sensitive ears and and his fur stands on end, ready to bolt at the the crouched werewolf next to him.
“Merlin,” James hissed as he pulled his dirty, bloodstained undershirt over his head, the rough fabric of it brushing painfully across the deep cuts at his neck. He cringed against the flare the spread through his chest, teeth bared and eyes squeezed shut. “Bloody hell, Moony. You owe me for this one.”
He tossed the shirt to the stone floor and looked over his chest.. There was another gash across his chest and there were several bruises decorating his ribs. Nothing out of the normal.
No bite marks.
A sudden creak from downstairs sends three spring-loaded bodies at each other, growls and barks and a loud crash resounding through the small house as they fall to the ground. James is barely able to pull away in time to see greasy-haired and spidery-limbed boy burst through the door, a cackle escaping from the burly black dog.
James doesn’t think, he just charges. He drives Severus Snape back out of the room quickly transforms back into himself, shutting and magically locking the door behind him with a furious wave of his wand.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Snape?” he shouts, already red in the face.
Snape is white in the face and clutching his chest, his eyes wild. “Does Dumbledore know you’re keeping that monster?” he gasps back, his lips curled in a sneer. " And what about the parents? I'm sure they’d like to hear about this.”
“That’s a person, Snape, and until now nothing’s ever happened,” James pointed out, his brows furrowed into a hard line, “How in bloody hell did you even know how to get here?”
A twisted smile curls over Snape’s lips at this. “Why don’t you ask the dog? I do assume he’s the dog, yes?” he spits. “It’s stupidly obvious, come to think of it.”
“You’re lying,” James shook his head, feeling like his inside were falling through his stomach.
“Black always did have a terrible temper.”
“You’re a bastard.”
“And you four are endangering the entire school,” Snape replies haughtily. “You can’t stop me from going to Dumbledore with this. The Ministry, even, or the Prophet.”
“Remus has never done anything to you! He’s defended you, tried to stop me and Sirius from being such arses to you!” James shouts, stepping closer and clenching his fists. “This is how you repay him?”
“Well,” Snape sneers. “I guess the genius can’t be good at everything. You and Black are still arses.”
James cries out, shoving Snape against the wall. “Fight me! Get back at me! Leave him out of this!
Snape always had known the nastiest curses. This one sends James reeling, slamming him against the opposite wall while the other boy slips back through the secret passage to Hogwarts.
Slowly stepping out of his trousers and boxers, James gingerly ambled to the small school shower to turn on the warm water. That first sting of the water sinking into his fresh cuts was always the worst part and he braced himself for the sharp pain before stepping in. He hissed at the high burn of it, clinging to the wall and needing a moment to get used to it, his eyes squeezed shut.
What had happened last night? He’d never thought this stupid school rivalry could go so far. He never thought that Sirius would be so stupid, and he’d never thought he could be so angry. James knew Snape could very easily have died only hours ago. And Moony would have never have forgiven himself.
James let the water wash over him. He let it drip into his wounds and wash away the dirt. He didn’t even care that it hurt. He welcomed this pain because he knew exactly why it hurt. He knew he could mend these cuts and heal these bruises with a few waves of his wand but how was he supposed to understand this new ache in his chest?
He was scared, terrified out of his wits. All of the sudden everything seemed so real to him. It was halfway through his sixth year and his time to be a stupid kid was swiftly running out. He didn’t want to be this James Potter anymore, The James Potter whose jokes everyone laughed at but no one ever took seriously. Lily had never taken him seriously and perhaps he was starting to understand why.
James cleaned his cuts, cringing at every slip of his hand, and finally turned off the steady flow of water. Breathing heavily, he stood there in the stall a long moment, knowing nothing would ever be the same for him again. He wasn’t sure he wanted to grow up but apparently that wasn’t his choice to make. He couldn’t run from it.
Stepping out the shower, James stared at himself in the mirror. He had to squint to see clearly without his glasses. He didn’t look any older. He just felt it.