what he wrote
Title; What He Wrote
Rating/warnings; G
Word count; 593
Characters; James Potter
Notes; Written for a challenge, the general idea of which was to write a story in under an hour - this is what I came up with. Title taken for the Laura Marling song by the same name.
Summary; "James’ third book is published and - for a moment - he doesn’t give a shit."
James Potter’s first book is published by the time he’s twenty-one.
The first time he receives the letter through the post (even though he sends his manuscript into a muggle publisher, James still expects an owl) explaining the terms, dates and utter paragraphs upon paragraphs that he doesn’t bother to read; he almost faints.
Lily and Albus laugh at him and James storms out in a Weasley Temper before he even considers telling them about the contents of letter.
(It’s almost a month later before they know he’s even written a book)
The first time he opens a brown-paper package encasing the first printed addition of his book, James is hyperventilating in a muggle café near the centre of London.
And when he looks back on it, James Sirius Potter still manages to become short of breath.
In all honesty, he’s more scared of that package then he is of his own mother. Ginny Weasley-turned-Potter might spend an entire morning threatening to castrate her first born son (really, it was Lily’s fault in the first place for brining home that god awful boyfriend of hers) but at least his bloody career didn’t rest upon her shoulders.
When James finally lacks enough air to become light headed, he’s offered a selection of free drinks and ‘Sir, are you alright?’s.
And then, the glass of water churning in his stomach, James finally rips into the brown-paper package.
For just a moment, he sits there with the hardcover in his hands.
Years later, James will walk through those same muggle café doors. He’ll enter the building - just another hour of spare time that he’s got to write - pen, notebook and apple laptop in hand. He’ll walk to the counter and order the same drink (straight ginger tea) he’s been ordering for the last few years of his life. He’ll sit down at his table, flick through his notebook and he’ll notice the girl with the chocolate-brown fringe who gave him a glass of water all those months ago.
(Her name is Frankie, but when he asks, she smiles, “Hemingway”)
James is moving out of the house he no longer shares with Fred when his second book is published.
By this point, he’s started to understand what it means when the postie walks up the drive.
“Mr J. Potter?” The man is darkhaired, tall and covered in freckles; and privately, he reminds James a little of his brother.
“Yes?” He doesn’t hyperventilate but he can’t help when his voice raises half an octave either.
“Here,” the man fishes around in his bag and James reads, Oliver, on his nametag. “Have a good day Mr Potter.”
“Fred!”
And when he walks back to the house, James trips over one of the cardboard boxes that hold his life.
James’ third book is published and - for a moment - he doesn’t give a shit.
For a moment, tying a perfect knot in his bow tie is all that he can even comprehend.
James doesn’t hyperventilate; doesn’t squeak when he opens his mouth. When he catches his reflection in the mirror though, he vomits.
When he’s standing at the altar, a thought crosses his mind, ‘his third book published by the time he’s twenty-eight’, before it flashes.
And then he realizes, it’s the first time he’s seen Frankie in white.
James is twenty-seven when his third book is published - twenty-seven and his wedding day.
(Scorpius groans later when he catches a look at his bowtie. He groans and within a quick twist of his hand, he’s already undone the knot)
Rating/warnings; G
Word count; 593
Characters; James Potter
Notes; Written for a challenge, the general idea of which was to write a story in under an hour - this is what I came up with. Title taken for the Laura Marling song by the same name.
Summary; "James’ third book is published and - for a moment - he doesn’t give a shit."
James Potter’s first book is published by the time he’s twenty-one.
The first time he receives the letter through the post (even though he sends his manuscript into a muggle publisher, James still expects an owl) explaining the terms, dates and utter paragraphs upon paragraphs that he doesn’t bother to read; he almost faints.
Lily and Albus laugh at him and James storms out in a Weasley Temper before he even considers telling them about the contents of letter.
(It’s almost a month later before they know he’s even written a book)
The first time he opens a brown-paper package encasing the first printed addition of his book, James is hyperventilating in a muggle café near the centre of London.
And when he looks back on it, James Sirius Potter still manages to become short of breath.
In all honesty, he’s more scared of that package then he is of his own mother. Ginny Weasley-turned-Potter might spend an entire morning threatening to castrate her first born son (really, it was Lily’s fault in the first place for brining home that god awful boyfriend of hers) but at least his bloody career didn’t rest upon her shoulders.
When James finally lacks enough air to become light headed, he’s offered a selection of free drinks and ‘Sir, are you alright?’s.
And then, the glass of water churning in his stomach, James finally rips into the brown-paper package.
For just a moment, he sits there with the hardcover in his hands.
Years later, James will walk through those same muggle café doors. He’ll enter the building - just another hour of spare time that he’s got to write - pen, notebook and apple laptop in hand. He’ll walk to the counter and order the same drink (straight ginger tea) he’s been ordering for the last few years of his life. He’ll sit down at his table, flick through his notebook and he’ll notice the girl with the chocolate-brown fringe who gave him a glass of water all those months ago.
(Her name is Frankie, but when he asks, she smiles, “Hemingway”)
James is moving out of the house he no longer shares with Fred when his second book is published.
By this point, he’s started to understand what it means when the postie walks up the drive.
“Mr J. Potter?” The man is darkhaired, tall and covered in freckles; and privately, he reminds James a little of his brother.
“Yes?” He doesn’t hyperventilate but he can’t help when his voice raises half an octave either.
“Here,” the man fishes around in his bag and James reads, Oliver, on his nametag. “Have a good day Mr Potter.”
“Fred!”
And when he walks back to the house, James trips over one of the cardboard boxes that hold his life.
James’ third book is published and - for a moment - he doesn’t give a shit.
For a moment, tying a perfect knot in his bow tie is all that he can even comprehend.
James doesn’t hyperventilate; doesn’t squeak when he opens his mouth. When he catches his reflection in the mirror though, he vomits.
When he’s standing at the altar, a thought crosses his mind, ‘his third book published by the time he’s twenty-eight’, before it flashes.
And then he realizes, it’s the first time he’s seen Frankie in white.
James is twenty-seven when his third book is published - twenty-seven and his wedding day.
(Scorpius groans later when he catches a look at his bowtie. He groans and within a quick twist of his hand, he’s already undone the knot)