[FIC] More Than That (In Your Hands) [Part 1/2]
Author: mindabbles
Title: More Than That (In Your Hands)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 15,000
Pairing(s): Teddy/James, James/Scorpius
Warnings: some very light bondage and D/s
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: James has his first real assignment - to outfit Teddy with a wand. He knows he has what it takes, but some people are harder than others to pin down, and if Teddy bolts again, James will shatter.
Author's Notes: Not really a warning, but just in case, there are flashbacks of them together when James is 16 and Teddy is 22. For the bulk of the fic, James is 20. This wonderful prompt grabbed me right away. I really hope you enjoy it. Thank you, thank you, thank you to my wonderful betas for their fabulous work, and another special thank you to J for lying awake, thinking of ways to fix it! Thank you a million times to the mods for running this fest and for their patience.
St. Mungo's
James never knew before now that fear could be more physical and more tangible than hunger.
He clutches the note from his dad in his hand, a hasty, uneven scrawl that reads like he wrote it as he was running to the Floo. Teddy at St. Mungo's. A job went wrong. All I know. Update later. Tell Albus.
James couldn't have recounted how he got into St. Mungo's, past the Welcome Witch, and to the waiting room if Voldemort himself had a wand to his throat.
The sight in the waiting room on the ward for Magical Catastrophes stops him short. His dad stands in the middle of the room, hands clenched at his sides. His mum paces, her face drawn. They both look helpless, and that is something he has never seen. It makes his blood turn to ice in his veins.
"Harry, what -" Andromeda says, voice raspy as she bursts into the waiting room behind him.
It is at that moment that his mum and dad look up and, seeing Andromeda and James in the doorway, suddenly look like themselves again.
Dad's eyes dart from Andromeda to James and he takes a deep breath. "A Healer is with him. I've asked for Dean, but he's not here yet."
"It's serious," Mum adds, taking Dad's hand - another sight James hasn't seen for as long as he can remember.
"Andromeda," Dad says. "I'm sorry. I wouldn't have sent him with only trainees if - it was supposed to be routine."
Andromeda sets her jaw and says, "I'm sure even you couldn't have stopped him, if it was his case."
The silence that follows her words is heavy, dampening the other sounds in the room.
"James," Mum says, quietly as if they were in the room with the injured Teddy. "We didn't mean for you to leave work." Her eyes dart to the side and James notices for the first time a man in Auror robes, someone he vaguely recognizes as a mate of Teddy's from school, sitting in the corner and looking miserable. He has the impression, not for the first time, that his Mum knows things that no one has told her.
James shouldn't be here. This room is for worried parents and lovers. James doesn't know what he is to Teddy, but he's neither of those.
Heels click down the hallway and a woman, a Healer, with a grave expression enters the room. "He's stable, but he's not in the clear yet. He's not conscious, but you can see him one at a time just to say hello. He might hear your voices and that won't hurt. I understand you've asked for Healer Thomas. I'll update him and turn over Auror Lupin's care when he arrives."
"No offense meant," Dad adds quickly.
"None taken, Auror Potter," she says. "Dean is an expert in these types of injuries, and I am aware that you are old friends. If it was my loved one, I'd want him as well."
"Thank you," Dad says. The worry in his dad's eyes sets bubbles of panic rising in James' chest.
"Who would like to go in?" she asks. "Just for a moment, mind you."
No one answers, but the other Auror stands. Dad says, "Andromeda."
She looks as if she's walking into a dragon's den, but she squares her shoulders and follows the healer.
"I should leave," James says.
The worried bloke sits again.
"I'm sure Teddy would like to hear your voice, James," says Dad. "And we don't know yet -" he pauses, his voice cracking. "Well, perhaps you should see him."
James glances again at the man in the corner.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Christopher," Dad says, clearing his throat. "This is my son James. James, Christopher, Teddy's partner."
Christopher looks panicked and apologetic at the same time. "Oh, hello. James - Teddy's mentioned...I was on another - I wasn't there. I should have been. I'm sorry. I should have been there, Sir," Christopher says, his voice trailing off as he looks at Harry.
Harry moves to stand next to Christopher, his hand on the young man's shoulder. Everyone knows that Harry Potter has lost people he loves when he couldn't protect them, and is the last person likely to blame someone else for the same thing. Or maybe they don't, and that's far enough back in Harry's life that this Christopher doesn't know it. But James is as sure as Christopher probably is that if his dad had been there, Teddy would be fine. Harry says something quietly to Christopher and he nods.
"Hey."
His mum's voice is soft in his ear, her hand on the small of his back. "He's strong. He's young. If anyone can get through this he can. And no one wants to be responsible for anything happening to Harry Potter's godson. He'll get the best there is."
"I know." James wants to fall into his mum's arms. "What happened?"
"I don't know much," Mum says. "Your dad said something last week about a gang of thieves who have been getting into very secure places - old houses with layers of enchantments, vaults in shops, and the like. They're brutal and will stun at best, or kill at worst, anyone who gets in their way. Dad mentioned it to me because they leave the dark mark carved into the wall. He doesn't know who they are, I'm sure of that. Teddy took some trainees to respond to a routine Floo call from a neighbour, and it turned out to be them. You sure you don't want to see him?"
"I can't - I have to," James breaks off. He wants to tell his mum everything when she looks at him like that, like she can make everything bad go away. "I should go. If he wakes -" He stops himself. He will wake. "Tell him I was here."
Ollivander's
The back room of Ollivander's shop is almost as spare as the front. A month into his apprenticeship James had given up trying to get Mr Ollivander to smarten the place up a bit. When he'd suggested adding something to the front window display other than one old wand on a dusty purple cushion, his mentor had looked at him as if he were mad, and said, "We sell wands. What in the blazes should we put in the window?" That was the moment he knew that attracting Saturday window-shoppers would never be the old man's concern.
Now, that austerity is comforting. The workshop is neat and functional, everything in its proper place. James passes by all the work he should do - the repairs for hapless kids and the stacks of texts on wand lore that Ollivander insists he summarise before he takes on any commissions. At the back, there is a trunk with special projects - the pricey commissions, repair jobs of very old or valuable wands, and James' wand. Technically it's not a wand yet, but it is the first one that Mr Ollivander is allowing him to make from start to finish. At the moment, it is a two-foot long bit from a birch tree that's still in the back garden of his childhood home.
He lays the board on the workbench and runs his hands along it. The wood is worn smooth with age. His fingers seek out the curves of the wood they know by heart, the old building creaks, and James wills himself not to look for an owl. He traces the grain with his fingers tips. He can feel the energy, the simmering magic, just under the surface that Mr Ollivander says proper wood must have. Someone's heels clack as they walk down the street. No one will come, he reminds himself. Good news or bad, they will Floo or owl.
He banishes the image of Teddy lying unconscious in a St. Mungo's bed. It really is an injustice that, nearly four years later, he can still feel the physical pain of the day Teddy walked away from him in Hogsmeade. It is a very unfair thing to have to spend as much time as he does - every holiday, family dinners, his interfering little git of a brother's pub nights - with someone whose hands he can still feel on his skin and whose smile can leave him undone without warning.
James measures out the area with the strongest magic, by touch as Ollivander showed him, and then lightly marks the dimensions of his future wand.
It's dark before he knows it and he locks the door and goes up to the flat above the shop. He'll Floo Albus for news and try to get some sleep, pretending that his heart hasn't taken up permanent residence in his throat.
Homecoming
Two days. The bastard was in St. Mungo's for two days. A stunningly speedy recovery, Healer Thomas had said. Dad had clapped Dean on the shoulder and thanked him, saying, "No small thanks to you, old friend."
Andromeda has tears of joy in her eyes as she hugs Teddy, her slim arms reaching up to wrap around his neck as she kisses his stubbled cheek. It's all warm and genial and happy and James realises he must be the worst person on the face of the earth, because he can't help the tiny tinge of resentment clouding his considerable relief that he has wasted two days wallowing in despair at the thought of a world in which Teddy no longer exists, only to see him hugging his Gran and affectionately calling her a worry-wart.
It's not a complete toss. He's made considerable progress on his wand as he contemplated lost chances, sweet and bitter memories, and alternately longed for and cursed Teddy. Mr Ollivander has always said that strong emotions aid the process.
Teddy is settled in the big armchair by the fire, looking pale but otherwise utterly gorgeous. Andromeda, Dad, and Mum are fussing about him like old hens.
"Well," Dad says, looking proudly at Teddy. James could swear Dad's chest swells two robe sizes. "This is quite an occasion. Your first near-death experience."
Andromeda laughs now, but James is certain that two days ago that comment would have earned Dad a hexing.
Mum just rolls her eyes and plumps the pillow at Teddy's back. "And you the one who's been pacing the waiting room floor muttering about never sending him in the field again."
"It was my case," Teddy says. His pale face is set with determination and James suppresses a shudder. "You couldn't have stopped me if you'd tried."
"Too many bloody heroes in the family already, mate," Albus says, but the look he gives Teddy borders on worship.
"I'd thank you for something stronger than tea, and transferring Teddy to desk duty," Andromeda says, sitting on the sofa beside Teddy and refilling his glass. "Now, skipping out the details of the injuries, what happened?"
The more the Ogden's flows the more dramatic the story becomes and the harder Teddy is hit by spells. James can see it in his head too clearly, and it makes him ill. He can understand that the others are thrilling in the tale because Teddy is here, he made it out alive, and Dad wouldn't be so proud if he didn't believe Teddy has what it takes, but all James can see is Teddy on the bed, leaving him with no hope of a second chance.
He steps quietly from the room. No one will notice. They're all drunk on whisky and relief.
The cool night air soothes his pounding head instantly. A twig cracks behind him and he shakes himself at the stupid hope that it's Teddy. It's a bloody gnome and Teddy can't get off the chair.
It was right here, and he can't believe that it was over four years ago. Teddy had followed him out of the house and James' heart had been pounding so loudly he only knew Teddy was there when he'd said quietly, "James, you okay?"
James had been sixteen, and out to his family for a year. It had been eleven months since the drunken confession to Teddy that he had been the reason James had decided to say something, that he thought maybe if Teddy knew, he'd realise how much he wanted James. But Teddy had said the last thing he intended to do was take advantage of a crush, that James was too young, too recently out, that he had to wait.
"I'm fine," he had said that night, although he'd been anything but. Teddy had arrived for Percy's birthday tea with a fit bloke who lit like a Filibuster's Firework when Teddy looked his way.
He had been able to feel Teddy's presence, tingling on his skin, as Teddy stepped close and cupped his jaw with his hand.
"He's just a friend," Teddy had said, smiling. "To me, anyway."
"I've waited for you," James had whispered, shaking with anticipation. "For eleven months."
Teddy laughed softly. "A lifetime."
The soft press of lips didn't make the world tilt on its axis, didn't make fireworks appear, but it was not what James had expected and no matter what happened, he would always be glad that that was his first kiss.
James drains his glass, the whisky bringing warmth to his cheeks despite the chill in the air. He should be past this, he tells himself. He should have moved on.
That's Ollivander
"How's that wand coming, lad?"
Mr Ollivander leans heavily on his cane as he looks over James' shoulder.
"Well, I think," James says. He's got the basic shape now, and he holds his breath as his mentor looks it over.
"Can't think," Ollivander says curtly. "Have to know. If the wand is in there, it will tell you. You just have to listen. Nobody listens anymore."
"Yes, sir," James says.
"I want you to work up in front," he says, pulling on his cloak. "It's quiet and the lumbago's acting up. I understand that a young Auror needs a new wand. Important assignment. I think that's to you as well."
"You want me to pick - I mean to help the wands find their witch or wizard?" James asks. He assists, he tidies, he even suggests, but the actual selection and match making, that's Ollivander.
"If you start now, when it's quiet, you'll be ready by the time we’re overrun with eleven-year-olds who look more and more as if they ought to be in nappies every year."
Mr Ollivander pulls his magical tape measure from around his neck and hands it to James. It feels alive in his hand.
"All right," James says. He knows he can do it. He won't let the old man down. So, the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach has nothing to do with that, and everything to do with the one person he knows needs a new wand.
The Assignment
James drains his third cup of tea in an hour. Every time the he thinks he hears the door opening, his stomach churns. The bloody door needs a bell, because he's nearly lost his porridge half a dozen times since Mr Ollivander went home for lunch and no one has actually come in.
James immerses himself in re-shelving what must be 400 wands strewn about the shop from a morning rush of next year's crop of firsties - earlier than Mr Ollivander had expected -- including an ill-fated attempt to choose a wand for Bernadette Finch-Fletchley. He can hear Ollivander correcting him; the wizard does not choose the wand. Despite his semantic challenges, Ollivander said he may as well start, which seemed like a good idea until James' burgeoning confidence was shattered by a ten year old.
James resolutely does not think about the fact that Teddy will be in, about the way his soft, dark hair looks against his fair skin, or that his dad and Uncle Ron will hear every detail of how it goes today.
He runs through what he learned this morning and sends wand after wand back to its place in the towering shelves.
"Hello."
James nearly loses his balance as he stands on his tiptoes and stretches his wand to the top of the shelf. As vigilant as he's been all day, he didn't hear the one thing he needed to. "Hello," he manages, keeping his eyes on his task.
"How's things, James?" Teddy asks. He gives James a friendly smile - the one that melts his insides just a little bit every time. "Ollivander here? I need a wand."
James swallows down his nerves, turns, and he sees that the smile doesn't quite erase the sad look in Teddy's eyes as he scans the shelves.
"Er, you get me."
"I do, do I?" Teddy raises his eyebrows. "I didn't know you did that yet."
"Well, I do now." James says. "If that's okay with you."
Teddy shrugs. "All right, then. I need a wand."
James takes a deep breath. He carefully doesn't brush against Teddy's broad shoulders as he reaches past him to take down the wands he's just put away.
*
James tries to get everything put back in its place before Mr Ollivander returns from lunch. He's not overly thrilled about the evidence of his second failure being spread across the shop.
"How did it go with young Mr Lupin?" Ollivander asks as he shrugs off his cloak.
"It didn't."
Mr Ollivander sits gingerly on a hard stool and looks at the mess. "It seems as if you tried every wand in the shop."
"Not quite." James bites back his retort. It isn't Ollivander's fault he's useless.
"Make a pot of tea," the old man commands.
Tidying and making tea. That's what he's good for, James thinks as he makes the tea and hands Mr Ollivander his cup.
"You know, Potter," Ollivander says, dropping two lumps of sugar into his tea. "I remember every wand I've ever sold."
"Yes sir. I know."
"Never sold one to young Mr Lupin." He looks at James over the rim of his teacup. "The older one, I did. Keen lad, he was. Quiet, but keen. Eleven inches, dragon heart string, strong and stable. Good wand for dueling or defence."
"You must have done. Teddy had a-"
"His mother, too. The very first one she touched chose her. Ten inches, lovely movement. Unusual wood it was…Ebony. Very responsive. A good wand for an Auror. First time I met him, young Lupin, that is, was when he came in with you and your father to buy your wand. There's a story there. I suggest you ask him to tell it before you go tossing wands about my shop willy nilly."
James doesn’t tell his mentor that it's a good bet that Teddy would as soon have a cuddle with a Blast-Ended Skrewt as trust James with something that personal.
"I think I'll have a go at my wand, sir, if that's all right," James says.
"Good lad," Ollivander says. "A bit of time with your hands on the wood always clears the head."
The back room is cool and dark. James flicks his wand and a lamp lights, casting golden light. He pulls the measuring tape from around his neck and measures from his finger tip to wrist, palm to forearm, the circumference of his bicep, and marks out dimensions on the smooth wood.
The work calms him, lulls him. He shaves away strips of the wood, feeling for the shape of his wand. It's hypnotic and his mind wanders, wanders back to where it always does - the last good day he had with Teddy.
*
It was a cold, cold day and half of the students who could go to Hogsmeade had stayed behind to curl in armchairs by their common room fires. The snow, frozen hard, crunched under James' boots. The freezing air stung his cheeks, even as they were flushed with anticipation. He could see Teddy, leaning against a tree in his Auror robes, from the path that led from the school grounds to Hogsmeade.
James knew the moment Teddy saw him. Teddy pushed off the tree and raised his hand in a wave. James' heart skipped two beats.
"See you later," he said, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. The idea of ditching Finn, his best mate, before they'd even hit the high street was a bit foreign, but today he had plans. "That's me."
"Your god brother?" Finn said. "Feckin' hell, thought you'd pulled the way you've been acting all day. Course, if you'd a girl waiting for you and you didn't tell me, you'd better sleep with one eye open, so I should've known. Family obligations, sorry about that. See you, mate. Want anything from Weasley's?"
"I worked there all bloody summer, Finn."
"Right you are. Meet up for a drink later? You can bring the old sod," Finn said, laughing and nodding in Teddy's direction.
James opened his mouth and closed it again. How could Finn know him so well and not know this? It had never occurred to him that he'd actually have to tell Finn; he'd just thought Finn would know.
"Yeah, maybe. Don't wait for me, though."
Finn jogged off down the road and James forced himself to walk, not run, to Teddy.
"Hello," Teddy said. "Did you try and comb your hair?" He laughed softly, and James bit his lip at the lopsided smile that accompanied that laugh.
"Don't take the piss," James said, scrubbing a hand through his hair.
"Jamie, it's just us," Teddy said, reaching to take his hand. "Nothing to be nervous about. Buy you a Butterbeer?"
"No," James said. The thought of sitting in The Three Broomsticks, surrounded by his school mates and teachers and trying to act as if he'd just met up with Teddy because he's his god brother when all he wanted to do was crawl into his lap, was unthinkable. His fingers tingled where Teddy touched them.
"Um, okay," Teddy said slowly. "It's a bit cold for a walk, but -" he shrugged and tugged at James' hand, leading him on the way to the Shrieking Shack.
The place was blessedly deserted. This late in the year, it usually was. Third Years always visited it their first time to Hogsmeade, to see the monument Dad had insisted upon creating rather than see the place torn down.
They walked up the rickety stairs and James read for the hundredth time plaques about Remus Lupin, James Potter, Sirius Black, Lily Evans, Severus Snape, and Peter Pettigrew.
Teddy stayed close behind him, chatting about his Auror training - and try as he might, James couldn't concentrate on a word he said because he bumped into him every few steps, their bodies touching and making James harder with each contact.
"Harry says my dad hated this place for what it represented," Teddy said, and something in the change in the tone of his voice worked its way through James' lust-addled brain. "But my dad kept a journal, did you know that? And I know things about this shack that Harry doesn't. I don't imagine he hated it all that much."
"No?" James asked.
Teddy leaned closer, his hand on the wall next to James' head, right next to the plaque in honour of Sirius Black. Teddy hadn't shaved before coming, his jaw shadowed with dark stubble. James wanted to feel it dragging rough across his skin.
"No," Teddy said. He cupped James' jaw with his hand.
Teddy pulled him in for a kiss, and - oh god - it was better than he remembered, or Teddy was more certain he meant it, because James felt his bones melt as Teddy moved his mouth on his and traced his lips with his tongue.
He smoothed his hands down Teddy's side, feeling bolder as the kiss went on and on. Teddy took James' face in both hands, angling his head so he could explore his mouth with his tongue. James' heart fluttered madly.
"Mm, lovely," Teddy said, pulling back and smiling against James' mouth. He kissed James softly one more time and took James' hand, leading him back out of the room. "Feels a bit odd, being here where my dad - anyway, how about that Butterbeer?"
James trailed after him in a bit of a daze.
*
"Every bloody time," James mutters as he draws Mr Ollivander's centuries-old lathe over the birch wood that will be his wand. Teddy would snog him, touch him, make him hard and desperate, and then pull back with some shoddy excuse.
Going nowhere today
"Say thank you to Mr Potter," Mrs Kiddlehopper says, swatting the lad lightly on the back of the head.
"Thank you, Mr Potter," Kenneth mumbles. He can't take his eyes of his new wand. He seems a bit of a terror, but James knows he'll always be fond of Kenneth Kiddlehopper - James' first successful customer.
The mum and boy push open the creaky door and Teddy catches it, holding it open for them.
"Oh, hello," James says, brimming with his new-found confidence.
"You're certain we shouldn't call Mr Ollivander? I'll have to go back to work eventually, and I do need a wand." He smiles and James wants so badly to prove him wrong.
"No, today's the day. I can feel it," James says. Teddy laughs softly. The sound lands warm in James' stomach. "What was your last wand?"
"You've seen it," Teddy says, and his eyes shutter.
"Humour me," presses James, Ollivander's words - there's a story - echoing in his head.
"Red Maple. Eleven inches. Dragon heart string. You've seen it. I don't have it anymore. That's why I'm here, remember?" Teddy teases, but it's forced.
"What did you like about it?"
"Like about it? It was my wand. Only wand I've ever owned."
James knows he's pushing it at this point, but Ollivander was right. This is his job; there is a story here and if he's to do his job, he has to know it. "But what did you like so much about it. Why don't you want to replace it?"
"Oh, so this is my fault?" Teddy snaps, gesturing at the shelves full of wands he's already tried. "Look, I just need a bloody wand that will work for me. That's your job, I thought. Spare me the trauma debrief."
James sighs and turns back to the shelves. He'll drop it for now. He's a Gryffindor, but he's not stupid. He knows before he summons the first wands that this is going nowhere, again.
Dad might know
It had been a while since he'd gone to Dad's office. The long corridor doesn't seem as imposing as when he was last here and the voices and laughter from the offices just sound like regular people at work, not gold-plated heroes.
Dad's sitting behind his big desk and James remembers hiding under it, making it his fort, when he was small. Now it's just a desk.
"Dad?"
"James?" Harry says, surprised on his face. He puts down his quill and the chair in front of his desk slides out, offering itself to James. "What's up?"
"Nothing," James says. He sits. Dad flicks his wand and a tea cup slides to the edge of the desk in front of James, brimming with steaming tea. "Just thought I'd stop by."
"Okay," Dad says slowly. "So, how's work?"
"Not so bad." James shrugs and sips the tea. It's just how he likes it, of course.
Harry pushes the report he was writing off to the side, his signal that, should he need it, James has his complete attention. "Spill it."
"Um, where did Teddy get his wand? The one that broke in the raid?"
"Ah," Harry said, with a sad little smile. "He hasn't told you?"
"No, not a word," says James. Dad knows whatever it is, and James feels the same relief he always felt as a boy whenever he came clean with his dad about a problem.
"Ask him, I should think."
"I did," James says. His heart sinks a bit - it seems this was one of those things Dad would think built character for him to figure out himself.
"Hm, then I don't think it's up to me to tell you."
"Dad," James says. He hears a hint of whinging in his own voice and he stamps it down. The last thing he wants is for Dad to think he can't do his job. "I know enough about wands to know that there is something stopping him from finding his wand. I don't think I can find the right wand for him if I don't know why the one that broke is so important to him."
"Then you'd better figure out a way to get him to tell you, hadn't you?" Dad asks. "Look, I think I've done all I'm going to do today. Fancy some dinner?"
Shouldn't have had that last one
The morning had come entirely too early. Getting utterly pissed with his Dad had been an unusual experience. Here, the shop, is the last place James wants to be.
James points his wand at the kettle and closes his eyes until he hears the beginnings of the whistle. He pours water into his pot and adds tea. He'll let it steep a good, long time. He rubs his hand over his head, as if to scrub the memory of hearing about the "issues" that made his parents decide to "open" their marriage. There are some things you just shouldn't have to ever hear. What's worse, James has a vague feeling that what brought on Dad's confession was James telling Dad about Teddy. All about Teddy and the way they ended it - all about the way he pushed James away again.
Not only is James pretty sure he told Dad more than any parent should ever know, now that he brought it all up, he cannot stop thinking about the way that Teddy had breathed his name in a way that made James' cock ache. It's a sound he can conjure up any time of day or night, any time he needs a wank and a little self-pity. James lets his head sink into his hands and the events unfold in his head again.
*
"James," Teddy said, a near warning in his voice. He covered James' hand with his, stilling it. It didn't accomplish much in the way of slowing James' racing pulse - he'd trapped James' hand in his lap. Teddy leaned and kissed James, slow and gentle. "Slow down, your mum and dad are in the next room. Not to mention Albus."
"Fuck it, Teddy," James huffed. "I want to do more than snog. We've been carrying on for two months."
"Carrying on?" Teddy mimicked.
"Don't take the piss," James said, pulling back from Teddy's slowly fading grin. "And don't tell me you're too old, too busy, and too close to the family. That's bollocks. If you plan on waiting until I'm seventeen, that's bollocks too because I really don't see what difference two bloody months makes, and I'm going to fucking explode."
"Breathe Jamie-"
"Don't call me that."
"James, it's not your age, or not entirely that."
"You don't want me," James said, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Christ, no. That's not it. There are some things I need to tell you, before -" Teddy flopped back on the bed, his hand scrubbing over his face. "James, you don't understand what shagging means."
"I think I have a pretty good idea of what goes where." James felt his face flush with anger. "Fuck me tonight or it's over and I'll find someone else to do it," he snapped. "I can, you know."
"I've no doubt." Teddy frowned and stood. His fists were clenched at his sides and James had the distinct impression that he had pushed it one too far. "Right. There's the problem right there. You might be almost seventeen, but you are too bloody young to handle it. It's not all about a cock in an arse or a mouth, it's about more and you can't just assume you know everything about sex or about me. You're too young, and if that's all you value your first time, you can fucking well find someone else to fuck you. Fuck." Teddy slammed his hand on the wall.
"Fine. I will," James shouted.
"Best of luck," Teddy said, and he was gone with a crack.
James stared at the spot on his bed that had contained Teddy just a moment earlier. It really had never occurred to him that Teddy would allow him to break it off.
"James? James?" His door creaked open and Mum's face poked in. "I've called you three times. Dinner's ready. Where's Teddy? You all right?"
*
James is fairly certain he told Dad most of it. He pours his tea and it's nearly black.
He'd told Finn about Teddy the night after they broke up, over Butterbeer doctored with Finn's parents' whisky. He'd had no choice really - when Finn commented that he looked as if he'd been dragged through a hedge arse-backwards and then left out in the rain and said he wasn't leaving James alone until he told him.
His best friend's rather helpful response had been, "You broke up with him? Why exactly? Right…so…you broke up with him because you were more important to him than a quick fuck. Well done."
If he remembers correctly now, that hadn't been too far off Dad's response - after he registered his relief that his godson hadn't fucked his son when he was sixteen.
The tea scalds his throat, but the burn distracts from the pounding in his head, so that's something. Another thing is that he's nearly sure he didn't tell Dad the worst of it. Three sheets to the wind, James had gone to the Leaky Cauldron looking to do just what he'd threatened.
Tania Boot's older brother Troy had started trying to get into James' pants when James was a third year and Troy was a sixth year. It had turned James' head at first, until something Mum said had made him realise that Troy was probably trying more to pull a bit of fame than James himself. Troy happened to be there that night, and James wasn't a kid anymore and when Troy smiled and flirted and let his hand fall not-so-casually on James' knee, he honestly couldn't be arsed to care whether Troy wanted him or his name. With Finn, Tania, and a few other mates from school still sitting at their corner table, James and Troy slipped out the back.
Troy had been nothing like Teddy. His mouth crashed against James' like he would devour him. James could almost believe it had been him that Troy had wanted all those years ago. Fuck Teddy and his gentle kisses and his fucking honour.
Troy's hand had worked into James' pants and James felt a rush of cold air as Troy ripped his pants down and grabbed his cock. The ground swam beneath him. The drink and blood pounding in his veins knocked him off balance. Troy shoved him against the cold brick wall and James reached to open Troy's robes.
"Christ," someone who was not Troy had said.
James had blinked, trying to get his bearings. His kiss-stung lips hung open, working the air.
"Fuck off," Troy had growled. Not to James. His hand still moved on James' cock and it was getting harder to think.
"Fucking hell, it didn't take you long."
The disgust in Teddy's voice had sliced through James' gut. Troy's hard cock was pressed against his thigh and Teddy had Apparated without another word for the second time that day.
*
"Bugger," growls James as he stands and knocks into a stack of a dozen wand boxes. They clatter to the floor, half of them popping open to scatter wands all across the shop, the noise a hundred tiny hammers against his skull.
Of bloody course, now, James thinks as he sees Teddy pushing open the shop door.
"Still learning, I see," Teddy says, looking at the mess.
"Morning," James says, trying for bright, or at least living. "Willing to give me another go, are you?"
Teddy gives him an odd look. "Maybe."
James feels his cheeks heat and he blurts out. "Tell me where you got first wand."
"What?" Teddy flinches.
"Tell me where you got it, Teddy," James repeats, and something makes him add, "Now."
"Your dad gave it to me," Teddy answers, looking as surprised as James feels that he didn't just hex James.
For one second, James entertains the impossibility that Dad hadn't discarded the Elder wand, but had given it to Teddy, the first child he was responsible for, an orphan of war like himself. It seems like the sort of thing he'd do, except not, because hadn't he said no one should ever be saddled with that curse? He would never do that to Teddy. James presses his thumb and forefinger against his temples.
"So that made it really important to you?"
"Have we begun the trauma debriefing again? Because Harry's making me do that at work." Teddy crosses his arms over his chest.
"Teddy, help me here," James says. He sinks into a hard wooden chair next to the counter. He's gone from demanding to pleading because he's so tired. A little voice tells him it might not be as effective.
"Where did the wand come from? Please. Mr Ollivander thinks it might be important."
"I thought he remembered every wand he ever sold."
"He didn't sell one to you. Oh," James says. "Oh, eleven inches, dragon heartstring. Why didn't I see it? Your dad's. It was your dad's."
Teddy nods. He looks as if his breath is caught in his throat. James' head clears and he pours two more cups of tea from his pot.
"Teddy," James says softly. "Please tell me. I think I need to know what you are trying to replace."
Teddy takes the tea and a deep breath. "The morning after he and my mum were killed, Harry went back to their bodies. He told me when I was eleven. He said he wanted to make sure there was nothing I should have. He saved their rings and a photo I guess my dad carried in his pocket."
James knows the one. He's seen it in Teddy's room. James nods, hoping that if he doesn't interrupt Teddy's tumble of words, they will continue.
"So, I suppose my dad still had his wand. Harry said he was really surprised that he was able to find it. It looked as if it had caught in his robes as he fell. He was hit from the back, you know, so Harry doesn't think he even had the chance to defend himself."
James holds his breath.
"One day, when I was nearly eleven, Harry came and took me out for the day. You lot weren't with him, which was unusual in those days."
There is a wistfulness to Teddy's voice, and James says softly, "I reckon you had him to yourself a lot before we came along."
"Yeah," Teddy says, shrugging. "I never minded, really. But that's not what you want to know. Harry took me to Diagon Alley, to the Leaky Cauldron. He told me about Hagrid taking him there on his eleventh birthday. I thought he was going to buy me a wand, but he put this long, thin box on the table and told me it was my dad's and we'd just see if it chose me like it chose my dad. I opened the box and lifted it out and my fingers tingled. I felt it all up my arm and Harry smiled like he was so proud. I remember that smile. He told me that my dad had done a lot of brave and important things with that wand and that he was so pleased to see it in the hands of another great wizard in the making. I know it's stupid, but I always felt like a bit of him was there with me, you know?"
"It's not stupid."
Dad thought a lot of Remus Lupin. That had always been plain. James can just imagine how it was for eleven-year old Teddy, to be told that Harry thought he was worthy of his favourite teacher's wand.
Teddy looks as utterly wrung-out as James feels. James gestures at Teddy's teacup. "Go for something stronger?"
"Yeah, thanks," Teddy says. He catches James' gaze and smiles wearily.
"I'm sorry to make you go through all that," says James. He leans a little closer, just to be nearer to Teddy.
"You're only trying to help, mate. I loved that story before," Teddy says. "And now you see. It's not you. You're not useless. I've never had a wand from its beginning."
"Yet," James says. He pours a measure of whisky into each of their empty teacups. "It's…it's good to talk with you."
"I did all the talking, mate," Teddy says, laughing. "Thanks for listening."
James aches to touch him. His fingers feel so empty that he squeezes them around the teacup so hard he thinks he might smash it. Teddy looks at him, and for a moment, he can see himself leaning close to kiss him. Teddy reaches out, his hand coming toward James' chest. James can't breathe as Teddy's hand brushes the side of his neck.
"You going to see how I measure up?" Teddy asks.
"What?" James blinks. Oh. Teddy is touching the tape measure. Ollivander's ancient, magical tape measure. If he uses it, he'll have to lean close enough to smell Teddy's hair, watch it curl around Teddy's powerful arms. "I-"
"Next time, all right?" Teddy asks abruptly. "I'd better go, James. Thanks for the drink and the talk. See you around, yeah?"
"Come back on Tuesday," James calls, a desperate edge to his voice. Where his chest felt warm, it feels hollow. "Ollivander wouldn't usually carry anything he hasn't made himself, but we're supposed to get in a few wands from a special collection in Romania."
"Yeah, all right," Teddy says. He shrugs again and James knows they both understand that Teddy's dad's wand cannot be replaced by anything coming in the regular post.
[Read Part 2}
Title: More Than That (In Your Hands)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 15,000
Pairing(s): Teddy/James, James/Scorpius
Warnings: some very light bondage and D/s
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: James has his first real assignment - to outfit Teddy with a wand. He knows he has what it takes, but some people are harder than others to pin down, and if Teddy bolts again, James will shatter.
Author's Notes: Not really a warning, but just in case, there are flashbacks of them together when James is 16 and Teddy is 22. For the bulk of the fic, James is 20. This wonderful prompt grabbed me right away. I really hope you enjoy it. Thank you, thank you, thank you to my wonderful betas for their fabulous work, and another special thank you to J for lying awake, thinking of ways to fix it! Thank you a million times to the mods for running this fest and for their patience.
St. Mungo's
James never knew before now that fear could be more physical and more tangible than hunger.
He clutches the note from his dad in his hand, a hasty, uneven scrawl that reads like he wrote it as he was running to the Floo. Teddy at St. Mungo's. A job went wrong. All I know. Update later. Tell Albus.
James couldn't have recounted how he got into St. Mungo's, past the Welcome Witch, and to the waiting room if Voldemort himself had a wand to his throat.
The sight in the waiting room on the ward for Magical Catastrophes stops him short. His dad stands in the middle of the room, hands clenched at his sides. His mum paces, her face drawn. They both look helpless, and that is something he has never seen. It makes his blood turn to ice in his veins.
"Harry, what -" Andromeda says, voice raspy as she bursts into the waiting room behind him.
It is at that moment that his mum and dad look up and, seeing Andromeda and James in the doorway, suddenly look like themselves again.
Dad's eyes dart from Andromeda to James and he takes a deep breath. "A Healer is with him. I've asked for Dean, but he's not here yet."
"It's serious," Mum adds, taking Dad's hand - another sight James hasn't seen for as long as he can remember.
"Andromeda," Dad says. "I'm sorry. I wouldn't have sent him with only trainees if - it was supposed to be routine."
Andromeda sets her jaw and says, "I'm sure even you couldn't have stopped him, if it was his case."
The silence that follows her words is heavy, dampening the other sounds in the room.
"James," Mum says, quietly as if they were in the room with the injured Teddy. "We didn't mean for you to leave work." Her eyes dart to the side and James notices for the first time a man in Auror robes, someone he vaguely recognizes as a mate of Teddy's from school, sitting in the corner and looking miserable. He has the impression, not for the first time, that his Mum knows things that no one has told her.
James shouldn't be here. This room is for worried parents and lovers. James doesn't know what he is to Teddy, but he's neither of those.
Heels click down the hallway and a woman, a Healer, with a grave expression enters the room. "He's stable, but he's not in the clear yet. He's not conscious, but you can see him one at a time just to say hello. He might hear your voices and that won't hurt. I understand you've asked for Healer Thomas. I'll update him and turn over Auror Lupin's care when he arrives."
"No offense meant," Dad adds quickly.
"None taken, Auror Potter," she says. "Dean is an expert in these types of injuries, and I am aware that you are old friends. If it was my loved one, I'd want him as well."
"Thank you," Dad says. The worry in his dad's eyes sets bubbles of panic rising in James' chest.
"Who would like to go in?" she asks. "Just for a moment, mind you."
No one answers, but the other Auror stands. Dad says, "Andromeda."
She looks as if she's walking into a dragon's den, but she squares her shoulders and follows the healer.
"I should leave," James says.
The worried bloke sits again.
"I'm sure Teddy would like to hear your voice, James," says Dad. "And we don't know yet -" he pauses, his voice cracking. "Well, perhaps you should see him."
James glances again at the man in the corner.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Christopher," Dad says, clearing his throat. "This is my son James. James, Christopher, Teddy's partner."
Christopher looks panicked and apologetic at the same time. "Oh, hello. James - Teddy's mentioned...I was on another - I wasn't there. I should have been. I'm sorry. I should have been there, Sir," Christopher says, his voice trailing off as he looks at Harry.
Harry moves to stand next to Christopher, his hand on the young man's shoulder. Everyone knows that Harry Potter has lost people he loves when he couldn't protect them, and is the last person likely to blame someone else for the same thing. Or maybe they don't, and that's far enough back in Harry's life that this Christopher doesn't know it. But James is as sure as Christopher probably is that if his dad had been there, Teddy would be fine. Harry says something quietly to Christopher and he nods.
"Hey."
His mum's voice is soft in his ear, her hand on the small of his back. "He's strong. He's young. If anyone can get through this he can. And no one wants to be responsible for anything happening to Harry Potter's godson. He'll get the best there is."
"I know." James wants to fall into his mum's arms. "What happened?"
"I don't know much," Mum says. "Your dad said something last week about a gang of thieves who have been getting into very secure places - old houses with layers of enchantments, vaults in shops, and the like. They're brutal and will stun at best, or kill at worst, anyone who gets in their way. Dad mentioned it to me because they leave the dark mark carved into the wall. He doesn't know who they are, I'm sure of that. Teddy took some trainees to respond to a routine Floo call from a neighbour, and it turned out to be them. You sure you don't want to see him?"
"I can't - I have to," James breaks off. He wants to tell his mum everything when she looks at him like that, like she can make everything bad go away. "I should go. If he wakes -" He stops himself. He will wake. "Tell him I was here."
Ollivander's
The back room of Ollivander's shop is almost as spare as the front. A month into his apprenticeship James had given up trying to get Mr Ollivander to smarten the place up a bit. When he'd suggested adding something to the front window display other than one old wand on a dusty purple cushion, his mentor had looked at him as if he were mad, and said, "We sell wands. What in the blazes should we put in the window?" That was the moment he knew that attracting Saturday window-shoppers would never be the old man's concern.
Now, that austerity is comforting. The workshop is neat and functional, everything in its proper place. James passes by all the work he should do - the repairs for hapless kids and the stacks of texts on wand lore that Ollivander insists he summarise before he takes on any commissions. At the back, there is a trunk with special projects - the pricey commissions, repair jobs of very old or valuable wands, and James' wand. Technically it's not a wand yet, but it is the first one that Mr Ollivander is allowing him to make from start to finish. At the moment, it is a two-foot long bit from a birch tree that's still in the back garden of his childhood home.
He lays the board on the workbench and runs his hands along it. The wood is worn smooth with age. His fingers seek out the curves of the wood they know by heart, the old building creaks, and James wills himself not to look for an owl. He traces the grain with his fingers tips. He can feel the energy, the simmering magic, just under the surface that Mr Ollivander says proper wood must have. Someone's heels clack as they walk down the street. No one will come, he reminds himself. Good news or bad, they will Floo or owl.
He banishes the image of Teddy lying unconscious in a St. Mungo's bed. It really is an injustice that, nearly four years later, he can still feel the physical pain of the day Teddy walked away from him in Hogsmeade. It is a very unfair thing to have to spend as much time as he does - every holiday, family dinners, his interfering little git of a brother's pub nights - with someone whose hands he can still feel on his skin and whose smile can leave him undone without warning.
James measures out the area with the strongest magic, by touch as Ollivander showed him, and then lightly marks the dimensions of his future wand.
It's dark before he knows it and he locks the door and goes up to the flat above the shop. He'll Floo Albus for news and try to get some sleep, pretending that his heart hasn't taken up permanent residence in his throat.
Homecoming
Two days. The bastard was in St. Mungo's for two days. A stunningly speedy recovery, Healer Thomas had said. Dad had clapped Dean on the shoulder and thanked him, saying, "No small thanks to you, old friend."
Andromeda has tears of joy in her eyes as she hugs Teddy, her slim arms reaching up to wrap around his neck as she kisses his stubbled cheek. It's all warm and genial and happy and James realises he must be the worst person on the face of the earth, because he can't help the tiny tinge of resentment clouding his considerable relief that he has wasted two days wallowing in despair at the thought of a world in which Teddy no longer exists, only to see him hugging his Gran and affectionately calling her a worry-wart.
It's not a complete toss. He's made considerable progress on his wand as he contemplated lost chances, sweet and bitter memories, and alternately longed for and cursed Teddy. Mr Ollivander has always said that strong emotions aid the process.
Teddy is settled in the big armchair by the fire, looking pale but otherwise utterly gorgeous. Andromeda, Dad, and Mum are fussing about him like old hens.
"Well," Dad says, looking proudly at Teddy. James could swear Dad's chest swells two robe sizes. "This is quite an occasion. Your first near-death experience."
Andromeda laughs now, but James is certain that two days ago that comment would have earned Dad a hexing.
Mum just rolls her eyes and plumps the pillow at Teddy's back. "And you the one who's been pacing the waiting room floor muttering about never sending him in the field again."
"It was my case," Teddy says. His pale face is set with determination and James suppresses a shudder. "You couldn't have stopped me if you'd tried."
"Too many bloody heroes in the family already, mate," Albus says, but the look he gives Teddy borders on worship.
"I'd thank you for something stronger than tea, and transferring Teddy to desk duty," Andromeda says, sitting on the sofa beside Teddy and refilling his glass. "Now, skipping out the details of the injuries, what happened?"
The more the Ogden's flows the more dramatic the story becomes and the harder Teddy is hit by spells. James can see it in his head too clearly, and it makes him ill. He can understand that the others are thrilling in the tale because Teddy is here, he made it out alive, and Dad wouldn't be so proud if he didn't believe Teddy has what it takes, but all James can see is Teddy on the bed, leaving him with no hope of a second chance.
He steps quietly from the room. No one will notice. They're all drunk on whisky and relief.
The cool night air soothes his pounding head instantly. A twig cracks behind him and he shakes himself at the stupid hope that it's Teddy. It's a bloody gnome and Teddy can't get off the chair.
It was right here, and he can't believe that it was over four years ago. Teddy had followed him out of the house and James' heart had been pounding so loudly he only knew Teddy was there when he'd said quietly, "James, you okay?"
James had been sixteen, and out to his family for a year. It had been eleven months since the drunken confession to Teddy that he had been the reason James had decided to say something, that he thought maybe if Teddy knew, he'd realise how much he wanted James. But Teddy had said the last thing he intended to do was take advantage of a crush, that James was too young, too recently out, that he had to wait.
"I'm fine," he had said that night, although he'd been anything but. Teddy had arrived for Percy's birthday tea with a fit bloke who lit like a Filibuster's Firework when Teddy looked his way.
He had been able to feel Teddy's presence, tingling on his skin, as Teddy stepped close and cupped his jaw with his hand.
"He's just a friend," Teddy had said, smiling. "To me, anyway."
"I've waited for you," James had whispered, shaking with anticipation. "For eleven months."
Teddy laughed softly. "A lifetime."
The soft press of lips didn't make the world tilt on its axis, didn't make fireworks appear, but it was not what James had expected and no matter what happened, he would always be glad that that was his first kiss.
James drains his glass, the whisky bringing warmth to his cheeks despite the chill in the air. He should be past this, he tells himself. He should have moved on.
That's Ollivander
"How's that wand coming, lad?"
Mr Ollivander leans heavily on his cane as he looks over James' shoulder.
"Well, I think," James says. He's got the basic shape now, and he holds his breath as his mentor looks it over.
"Can't think," Ollivander says curtly. "Have to know. If the wand is in there, it will tell you. You just have to listen. Nobody listens anymore."
"Yes, sir," James says.
"I want you to work up in front," he says, pulling on his cloak. "It's quiet and the lumbago's acting up. I understand that a young Auror needs a new wand. Important assignment. I think that's to you as well."
"You want me to pick - I mean to help the wands find their witch or wizard?" James asks. He assists, he tidies, he even suggests, but the actual selection and match making, that's Ollivander.
"If you start now, when it's quiet, you'll be ready by the time we’re overrun with eleven-year-olds who look more and more as if they ought to be in nappies every year."
Mr Ollivander pulls his magical tape measure from around his neck and hands it to James. It feels alive in his hand.
"All right," James says. He knows he can do it. He won't let the old man down. So, the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach has nothing to do with that, and everything to do with the one person he knows needs a new wand.
The Assignment
James drains his third cup of tea in an hour. Every time the he thinks he hears the door opening, his stomach churns. The bloody door needs a bell, because he's nearly lost his porridge half a dozen times since Mr Ollivander went home for lunch and no one has actually come in.
James immerses himself in re-shelving what must be 400 wands strewn about the shop from a morning rush of next year's crop of firsties - earlier than Mr Ollivander had expected -- including an ill-fated attempt to choose a wand for Bernadette Finch-Fletchley. He can hear Ollivander correcting him; the wizard does not choose the wand. Despite his semantic challenges, Ollivander said he may as well start, which seemed like a good idea until James' burgeoning confidence was shattered by a ten year old.
James resolutely does not think about the fact that Teddy will be in, about the way his soft, dark hair looks against his fair skin, or that his dad and Uncle Ron will hear every detail of how it goes today.
He runs through what he learned this morning and sends wand after wand back to its place in the towering shelves.
"Hello."
James nearly loses his balance as he stands on his tiptoes and stretches his wand to the top of the shelf. As vigilant as he's been all day, he didn't hear the one thing he needed to. "Hello," he manages, keeping his eyes on his task.
"How's things, James?" Teddy asks. He gives James a friendly smile - the one that melts his insides just a little bit every time. "Ollivander here? I need a wand."
James swallows down his nerves, turns, and he sees that the smile doesn't quite erase the sad look in Teddy's eyes as he scans the shelves.
"Er, you get me."
"I do, do I?" Teddy raises his eyebrows. "I didn't know you did that yet."
"Well, I do now." James says. "If that's okay with you."
Teddy shrugs. "All right, then. I need a wand."
James takes a deep breath. He carefully doesn't brush against Teddy's broad shoulders as he reaches past him to take down the wands he's just put away.
*
James tries to get everything put back in its place before Mr Ollivander returns from lunch. He's not overly thrilled about the evidence of his second failure being spread across the shop.
"How did it go with young Mr Lupin?" Ollivander asks as he shrugs off his cloak.
"It didn't."
Mr Ollivander sits gingerly on a hard stool and looks at the mess. "It seems as if you tried every wand in the shop."
"Not quite." James bites back his retort. It isn't Ollivander's fault he's useless.
"Make a pot of tea," the old man commands.
Tidying and making tea. That's what he's good for, James thinks as he makes the tea and hands Mr Ollivander his cup.
"You know, Potter," Ollivander says, dropping two lumps of sugar into his tea. "I remember every wand I've ever sold."
"Yes sir. I know."
"Never sold one to young Mr Lupin." He looks at James over the rim of his teacup. "The older one, I did. Keen lad, he was. Quiet, but keen. Eleven inches, dragon heart string, strong and stable. Good wand for dueling or defence."
"You must have done. Teddy had a-"
"His mother, too. The very first one she touched chose her. Ten inches, lovely movement. Unusual wood it was…Ebony. Very responsive. A good wand for an Auror. First time I met him, young Lupin, that is, was when he came in with you and your father to buy your wand. There's a story there. I suggest you ask him to tell it before you go tossing wands about my shop willy nilly."
James doesn’t tell his mentor that it's a good bet that Teddy would as soon have a cuddle with a Blast-Ended Skrewt as trust James with something that personal.
"I think I'll have a go at my wand, sir, if that's all right," James says.
"Good lad," Ollivander says. "A bit of time with your hands on the wood always clears the head."
The back room is cool and dark. James flicks his wand and a lamp lights, casting golden light. He pulls the measuring tape from around his neck and measures from his finger tip to wrist, palm to forearm, the circumference of his bicep, and marks out dimensions on the smooth wood.
The work calms him, lulls him. He shaves away strips of the wood, feeling for the shape of his wand. It's hypnotic and his mind wanders, wanders back to where it always does - the last good day he had with Teddy.
*
It was a cold, cold day and half of the students who could go to Hogsmeade had stayed behind to curl in armchairs by their common room fires. The snow, frozen hard, crunched under James' boots. The freezing air stung his cheeks, even as they were flushed with anticipation. He could see Teddy, leaning against a tree in his Auror robes, from the path that led from the school grounds to Hogsmeade.
James knew the moment Teddy saw him. Teddy pushed off the tree and raised his hand in a wave. James' heart skipped two beats.
"See you later," he said, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. The idea of ditching Finn, his best mate, before they'd even hit the high street was a bit foreign, but today he had plans. "That's me."
"Your god brother?" Finn said. "Feckin' hell, thought you'd pulled the way you've been acting all day. Course, if you'd a girl waiting for you and you didn't tell me, you'd better sleep with one eye open, so I should've known. Family obligations, sorry about that. See you, mate. Want anything from Weasley's?"
"I worked there all bloody summer, Finn."
"Right you are. Meet up for a drink later? You can bring the old sod," Finn said, laughing and nodding in Teddy's direction.
James opened his mouth and closed it again. How could Finn know him so well and not know this? It had never occurred to him that he'd actually have to tell Finn; he'd just thought Finn would know.
"Yeah, maybe. Don't wait for me, though."
Finn jogged off down the road and James forced himself to walk, not run, to Teddy.
"Hello," Teddy said. "Did you try and comb your hair?" He laughed softly, and James bit his lip at the lopsided smile that accompanied that laugh.
"Don't take the piss," James said, scrubbing a hand through his hair.
"Jamie, it's just us," Teddy said, reaching to take his hand. "Nothing to be nervous about. Buy you a Butterbeer?"
"No," James said. The thought of sitting in The Three Broomsticks, surrounded by his school mates and teachers and trying to act as if he'd just met up with Teddy because he's his god brother when all he wanted to do was crawl into his lap, was unthinkable. His fingers tingled where Teddy touched them.
"Um, okay," Teddy said slowly. "It's a bit cold for a walk, but -" he shrugged and tugged at James' hand, leading him on the way to the Shrieking Shack.
The place was blessedly deserted. This late in the year, it usually was. Third Years always visited it their first time to Hogsmeade, to see the monument Dad had insisted upon creating rather than see the place torn down.
They walked up the rickety stairs and James read for the hundredth time plaques about Remus Lupin, James Potter, Sirius Black, Lily Evans, Severus Snape, and Peter Pettigrew.
Teddy stayed close behind him, chatting about his Auror training - and try as he might, James couldn't concentrate on a word he said because he bumped into him every few steps, their bodies touching and making James harder with each contact.
"Harry says my dad hated this place for what it represented," Teddy said, and something in the change in the tone of his voice worked its way through James' lust-addled brain. "But my dad kept a journal, did you know that? And I know things about this shack that Harry doesn't. I don't imagine he hated it all that much."
"No?" James asked.
Teddy leaned closer, his hand on the wall next to James' head, right next to the plaque in honour of Sirius Black. Teddy hadn't shaved before coming, his jaw shadowed with dark stubble. James wanted to feel it dragging rough across his skin.
"No," Teddy said. He cupped James' jaw with his hand.
Teddy pulled him in for a kiss, and - oh god - it was better than he remembered, or Teddy was more certain he meant it, because James felt his bones melt as Teddy moved his mouth on his and traced his lips with his tongue.
He smoothed his hands down Teddy's side, feeling bolder as the kiss went on and on. Teddy took James' face in both hands, angling his head so he could explore his mouth with his tongue. James' heart fluttered madly.
"Mm, lovely," Teddy said, pulling back and smiling against James' mouth. He kissed James softly one more time and took James' hand, leading him back out of the room. "Feels a bit odd, being here where my dad - anyway, how about that Butterbeer?"
James trailed after him in a bit of a daze.
*
"Every bloody time," James mutters as he draws Mr Ollivander's centuries-old lathe over the birch wood that will be his wand. Teddy would snog him, touch him, make him hard and desperate, and then pull back with some shoddy excuse.
Going nowhere today
"Say thank you to Mr Potter," Mrs Kiddlehopper says, swatting the lad lightly on the back of the head.
"Thank you, Mr Potter," Kenneth mumbles. He can't take his eyes of his new wand. He seems a bit of a terror, but James knows he'll always be fond of Kenneth Kiddlehopper - James' first successful customer.
The mum and boy push open the creaky door and Teddy catches it, holding it open for them.
"Oh, hello," James says, brimming with his new-found confidence.
"You're certain we shouldn't call Mr Ollivander? I'll have to go back to work eventually, and I do need a wand." He smiles and James wants so badly to prove him wrong.
"No, today's the day. I can feel it," James says. Teddy laughs softly. The sound lands warm in James' stomach. "What was your last wand?"
"You've seen it," Teddy says, and his eyes shutter.
"Humour me," presses James, Ollivander's words - there's a story - echoing in his head.
"Red Maple. Eleven inches. Dragon heart string. You've seen it. I don't have it anymore. That's why I'm here, remember?" Teddy teases, but it's forced.
"What did you like about it?"
"Like about it? It was my wand. Only wand I've ever owned."
James knows he's pushing it at this point, but Ollivander was right. This is his job; there is a story here and if he's to do his job, he has to know it. "But what did you like so much about it. Why don't you want to replace it?"
"Oh, so this is my fault?" Teddy snaps, gesturing at the shelves full of wands he's already tried. "Look, I just need a bloody wand that will work for me. That's your job, I thought. Spare me the trauma debrief."
James sighs and turns back to the shelves. He'll drop it for now. He's a Gryffindor, but he's not stupid. He knows before he summons the first wands that this is going nowhere, again.
Dad might know
It had been a while since he'd gone to Dad's office. The long corridor doesn't seem as imposing as when he was last here and the voices and laughter from the offices just sound like regular people at work, not gold-plated heroes.
Dad's sitting behind his big desk and James remembers hiding under it, making it his fort, when he was small. Now it's just a desk.
"Dad?"
"James?" Harry says, surprised on his face. He puts down his quill and the chair in front of his desk slides out, offering itself to James. "What's up?"
"Nothing," James says. He sits. Dad flicks his wand and a tea cup slides to the edge of the desk in front of James, brimming with steaming tea. "Just thought I'd stop by."
"Okay," Dad says slowly. "So, how's work?"
"Not so bad." James shrugs and sips the tea. It's just how he likes it, of course.
Harry pushes the report he was writing off to the side, his signal that, should he need it, James has his complete attention. "Spill it."
"Um, where did Teddy get his wand? The one that broke in the raid?"
"Ah," Harry said, with a sad little smile. "He hasn't told you?"
"No, not a word," says James. Dad knows whatever it is, and James feels the same relief he always felt as a boy whenever he came clean with his dad about a problem.
"Ask him, I should think."
"I did," James says. His heart sinks a bit - it seems this was one of those things Dad would think built character for him to figure out himself.
"Hm, then I don't think it's up to me to tell you."
"Dad," James says. He hears a hint of whinging in his own voice and he stamps it down. The last thing he wants is for Dad to think he can't do his job. "I know enough about wands to know that there is something stopping him from finding his wand. I don't think I can find the right wand for him if I don't know why the one that broke is so important to him."
"Then you'd better figure out a way to get him to tell you, hadn't you?" Dad asks. "Look, I think I've done all I'm going to do today. Fancy some dinner?"
Shouldn't have had that last one
The morning had come entirely too early. Getting utterly pissed with his Dad had been an unusual experience. Here, the shop, is the last place James wants to be.
James points his wand at the kettle and closes his eyes until he hears the beginnings of the whistle. He pours water into his pot and adds tea. He'll let it steep a good, long time. He rubs his hand over his head, as if to scrub the memory of hearing about the "issues" that made his parents decide to "open" their marriage. There are some things you just shouldn't have to ever hear. What's worse, James has a vague feeling that what brought on Dad's confession was James telling Dad about Teddy. All about Teddy and the way they ended it - all about the way he pushed James away again.
Not only is James pretty sure he told Dad more than any parent should ever know, now that he brought it all up, he cannot stop thinking about the way that Teddy had breathed his name in a way that made James' cock ache. It's a sound he can conjure up any time of day or night, any time he needs a wank and a little self-pity. James lets his head sink into his hands and the events unfold in his head again.
*
"James," Teddy said, a near warning in his voice. He covered James' hand with his, stilling it. It didn't accomplish much in the way of slowing James' racing pulse - he'd trapped James' hand in his lap. Teddy leaned and kissed James, slow and gentle. "Slow down, your mum and dad are in the next room. Not to mention Albus."
"Fuck it, Teddy," James huffed. "I want to do more than snog. We've been carrying on for two months."
"Carrying on?" Teddy mimicked.
"Don't take the piss," James said, pulling back from Teddy's slowly fading grin. "And don't tell me you're too old, too busy, and too close to the family. That's bollocks. If you plan on waiting until I'm seventeen, that's bollocks too because I really don't see what difference two bloody months makes, and I'm going to fucking explode."
"Breathe Jamie-"
"Don't call me that."
"James, it's not your age, or not entirely that."
"You don't want me," James said, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Christ, no. That's not it. There are some things I need to tell you, before -" Teddy flopped back on the bed, his hand scrubbing over his face. "James, you don't understand what shagging means."
"I think I have a pretty good idea of what goes where." James felt his face flush with anger. "Fuck me tonight or it's over and I'll find someone else to do it," he snapped. "I can, you know."
"I've no doubt." Teddy frowned and stood. His fists were clenched at his sides and James had the distinct impression that he had pushed it one too far. "Right. There's the problem right there. You might be almost seventeen, but you are too bloody young to handle it. It's not all about a cock in an arse or a mouth, it's about more and you can't just assume you know everything about sex or about me. You're too young, and if that's all you value your first time, you can fucking well find someone else to fuck you. Fuck." Teddy slammed his hand on the wall.
"Fine. I will," James shouted.
"Best of luck," Teddy said, and he was gone with a crack.
James stared at the spot on his bed that had contained Teddy just a moment earlier. It really had never occurred to him that Teddy would allow him to break it off.
"James? James?" His door creaked open and Mum's face poked in. "I've called you three times. Dinner's ready. Where's Teddy? You all right?"
*
James is fairly certain he told Dad most of it. He pours his tea and it's nearly black.
He'd told Finn about Teddy the night after they broke up, over Butterbeer doctored with Finn's parents' whisky. He'd had no choice really - when Finn commented that he looked as if he'd been dragged through a hedge arse-backwards and then left out in the rain and said he wasn't leaving James alone until he told him.
His best friend's rather helpful response had been, "You broke up with him? Why exactly? Right…so…you broke up with him because you were more important to him than a quick fuck. Well done."
If he remembers correctly now, that hadn't been too far off Dad's response - after he registered his relief that his godson hadn't fucked his son when he was sixteen.
The tea scalds his throat, but the burn distracts from the pounding in his head, so that's something. Another thing is that he's nearly sure he didn't tell Dad the worst of it. Three sheets to the wind, James had gone to the Leaky Cauldron looking to do just what he'd threatened.
Tania Boot's older brother Troy had started trying to get into James' pants when James was a third year and Troy was a sixth year. It had turned James' head at first, until something Mum said had made him realise that Troy was probably trying more to pull a bit of fame than James himself. Troy happened to be there that night, and James wasn't a kid anymore and when Troy smiled and flirted and let his hand fall not-so-casually on James' knee, he honestly couldn't be arsed to care whether Troy wanted him or his name. With Finn, Tania, and a few other mates from school still sitting at their corner table, James and Troy slipped out the back.
Troy had been nothing like Teddy. His mouth crashed against James' like he would devour him. James could almost believe it had been him that Troy had wanted all those years ago. Fuck Teddy and his gentle kisses and his fucking honour.
Troy's hand had worked into James' pants and James felt a rush of cold air as Troy ripped his pants down and grabbed his cock. The ground swam beneath him. The drink and blood pounding in his veins knocked him off balance. Troy shoved him against the cold brick wall and James reached to open Troy's robes.
"Christ," someone who was not Troy had said.
James had blinked, trying to get his bearings. His kiss-stung lips hung open, working the air.
"Fuck off," Troy had growled. Not to James. His hand still moved on James' cock and it was getting harder to think.
"Fucking hell, it didn't take you long."
The disgust in Teddy's voice had sliced through James' gut. Troy's hard cock was pressed against his thigh and Teddy had Apparated without another word for the second time that day.
*
"Bugger," growls James as he stands and knocks into a stack of a dozen wand boxes. They clatter to the floor, half of them popping open to scatter wands all across the shop, the noise a hundred tiny hammers against his skull.
Of bloody course, now, James thinks as he sees Teddy pushing open the shop door.
"Still learning, I see," Teddy says, looking at the mess.
"Morning," James says, trying for bright, or at least living. "Willing to give me another go, are you?"
Teddy gives him an odd look. "Maybe."
James feels his cheeks heat and he blurts out. "Tell me where you got first wand."
"What?" Teddy flinches.
"Tell me where you got it, Teddy," James repeats, and something makes him add, "Now."
"Your dad gave it to me," Teddy answers, looking as surprised as James feels that he didn't just hex James.
For one second, James entertains the impossibility that Dad hadn't discarded the Elder wand, but had given it to Teddy, the first child he was responsible for, an orphan of war like himself. It seems like the sort of thing he'd do, except not, because hadn't he said no one should ever be saddled with that curse? He would never do that to Teddy. James presses his thumb and forefinger against his temples.
"So that made it really important to you?"
"Have we begun the trauma debriefing again? Because Harry's making me do that at work." Teddy crosses his arms over his chest.
"Teddy, help me here," James says. He sinks into a hard wooden chair next to the counter. He's gone from demanding to pleading because he's so tired. A little voice tells him it might not be as effective.
"Where did the wand come from? Please. Mr Ollivander thinks it might be important."
"I thought he remembered every wand he ever sold."
"He didn't sell one to you. Oh," James says. "Oh, eleven inches, dragon heartstring. Why didn't I see it? Your dad's. It was your dad's."
Teddy nods. He looks as if his breath is caught in his throat. James' head clears and he pours two more cups of tea from his pot.
"Teddy," James says softly. "Please tell me. I think I need to know what you are trying to replace."
Teddy takes the tea and a deep breath. "The morning after he and my mum were killed, Harry went back to their bodies. He told me when I was eleven. He said he wanted to make sure there was nothing I should have. He saved their rings and a photo I guess my dad carried in his pocket."
James knows the one. He's seen it in Teddy's room. James nods, hoping that if he doesn't interrupt Teddy's tumble of words, they will continue.
"So, I suppose my dad still had his wand. Harry said he was really surprised that he was able to find it. It looked as if it had caught in his robes as he fell. He was hit from the back, you know, so Harry doesn't think he even had the chance to defend himself."
James holds his breath.
"One day, when I was nearly eleven, Harry came and took me out for the day. You lot weren't with him, which was unusual in those days."
There is a wistfulness to Teddy's voice, and James says softly, "I reckon you had him to yourself a lot before we came along."
"Yeah," Teddy says, shrugging. "I never minded, really. But that's not what you want to know. Harry took me to Diagon Alley, to the Leaky Cauldron. He told me about Hagrid taking him there on his eleventh birthday. I thought he was going to buy me a wand, but he put this long, thin box on the table and told me it was my dad's and we'd just see if it chose me like it chose my dad. I opened the box and lifted it out and my fingers tingled. I felt it all up my arm and Harry smiled like he was so proud. I remember that smile. He told me that my dad had done a lot of brave and important things with that wand and that he was so pleased to see it in the hands of another great wizard in the making. I know it's stupid, but I always felt like a bit of him was there with me, you know?"
"It's not stupid."
Dad thought a lot of Remus Lupin. That had always been plain. James can just imagine how it was for eleven-year old Teddy, to be told that Harry thought he was worthy of his favourite teacher's wand.
Teddy looks as utterly wrung-out as James feels. James gestures at Teddy's teacup. "Go for something stronger?"
"Yeah, thanks," Teddy says. He catches James' gaze and smiles wearily.
"I'm sorry to make you go through all that," says James. He leans a little closer, just to be nearer to Teddy.
"You're only trying to help, mate. I loved that story before," Teddy says. "And now you see. It's not you. You're not useless. I've never had a wand from its beginning."
"Yet," James says. He pours a measure of whisky into each of their empty teacups. "It's…it's good to talk with you."
"I did all the talking, mate," Teddy says, laughing. "Thanks for listening."
James aches to touch him. His fingers feel so empty that he squeezes them around the teacup so hard he thinks he might smash it. Teddy looks at him, and for a moment, he can see himself leaning close to kiss him. Teddy reaches out, his hand coming toward James' chest. James can't breathe as Teddy's hand brushes the side of his neck.
"You going to see how I measure up?" Teddy asks.
"What?" James blinks. Oh. Teddy is touching the tape measure. Ollivander's ancient, magical tape measure. If he uses it, he'll have to lean close enough to smell Teddy's hair, watch it curl around Teddy's powerful arms. "I-"
"Next time, all right?" Teddy asks abruptly. "I'd better go, James. Thanks for the drink and the talk. See you around, yeah?"
"Come back on Tuesday," James calls, a desperate edge to his voice. Where his chest felt warm, it feels hollow. "Ollivander wouldn't usually carry anything he hasn't made himself, but we're supposed to get in a few wands from a special collection in Romania."
"Yeah, all right," Teddy says. He shrugs again and James knows they both understand that Teddy's dad's wand cannot be replaced by anything coming in the regular post.
[Read Part 2}