James.
Another Gemma-requested piece. This time, it's James' turn.
I’ve always been lucky, I suppose.
I look at the girl lying next to me and wonder. I can’t even call her a girl anymore, not with all that’s happened between us. There’s a mop of red hair on my shoulder and her breathing is slow and deep. It took her long enough to allow this to happen - I always knew she would, deep down. From the minute I saw her, I knew.
And it’s me. Not Potter the fool, Prongs the rebel; it’s me, just James and I’m here with Lily and I feel all at once blessed, buoyant and fiercely protective.
School seems so long ago now. It’s only been months since we set foot in Hogwarts’ halls, and I feel this is the breath before the plunge. I’m not thinking further than this breath though. It’s too much to waste on worry.
Sirius will be here later. He still stays occasionally, coming over for Sunday lunch. Mum worries about him in his flat. Now that Dad has gone she feels the need to nurture more than ever. He never worries, he just smiles and kisses her on the cheek and allows her to pile his plate with potatoes and gravy. He tells stories that make her laugh and my old mother loses years to his charm. You wouldn’t think there was so much darkness in him, but it is there when you look, in those black eyes - a flicker, a flash, sometimes furious and always vivid.
Remus comes along sometimes. Sirius persuades him, as only he can. Moony always preferred solitude. He smiles at Sirius’ japes and knows only too well the tricks and charm which he pulls out for Mrs Potter. He knows also the deep rooted affection which motivates this behaviour, and it’s this that defines Remus in his understanding of our unique group dynamics and his knowledge of the enigma of Sirius.
Peter is drifting. He seems further away each day. I think it’s his fear, this fear of what’s going to happen is shrinking him day by day. I wish I could tell him that we’ll always be looking out for him, but I know that he knows already.
It’s nearly Christmas, what a thought. I sigh and pull Lily closer to me, aware that in a mere hour I will have to sneak from this guest room back into my attic space, and maintain the illusion that I am a man of morals and decency. At least to my mother.
Though I will be, for Lily. She’s waking now, I can hear her confused sniffing. She mumbles something incoherent and I smile, kiss her gently on the forehead and content myself with my lot.
I’ve always been lucky. I hope I always will be.
I’ve always been lucky, I suppose.
I look at the girl lying next to me and wonder. I can’t even call her a girl anymore, not with all that’s happened between us. There’s a mop of red hair on my shoulder and her breathing is slow and deep. It took her long enough to allow this to happen - I always knew she would, deep down. From the minute I saw her, I knew.
And it’s me. Not Potter the fool, Prongs the rebel; it’s me, just James and I’m here with Lily and I feel all at once blessed, buoyant and fiercely protective.
School seems so long ago now. It’s only been months since we set foot in Hogwarts’ halls, and I feel this is the breath before the plunge. I’m not thinking further than this breath though. It’s too much to waste on worry.
Sirius will be here later. He still stays occasionally, coming over for Sunday lunch. Mum worries about him in his flat. Now that Dad has gone she feels the need to nurture more than ever. He never worries, he just smiles and kisses her on the cheek and allows her to pile his plate with potatoes and gravy. He tells stories that make her laugh and my old mother loses years to his charm. You wouldn’t think there was so much darkness in him, but it is there when you look, in those black eyes - a flicker, a flash, sometimes furious and always vivid.
Remus comes along sometimes. Sirius persuades him, as only he can. Moony always preferred solitude. He smiles at Sirius’ japes and knows only too well the tricks and charm which he pulls out for Mrs Potter. He knows also the deep rooted affection which motivates this behaviour, and it’s this that defines Remus in his understanding of our unique group dynamics and his knowledge of the enigma of Sirius.
Peter is drifting. He seems further away each day. I think it’s his fear, this fear of what’s going to happen is shrinking him day by day. I wish I could tell him that we’ll always be looking out for him, but I know that he knows already.
It’s nearly Christmas, what a thought. I sigh and pull Lily closer to me, aware that in a mere hour I will have to sneak from this guest room back into my attic space, and maintain the illusion that I am a man of morals and decency. At least to my mother.
Though I will be, for Lily. She’s waking now, I can hear her confused sniffing. She mumbles something incoherent and I smile, kiss her gently on the forehead and content myself with my lot.
I’ve always been lucky. I hope I always will be.