Jamiespxtter - ¬ James.

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

"Would that include you?"

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

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

And firewhiskey. Lots of firewhiskey.

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

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

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

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

James throws it at him.

❝ I don’t think I can make it…❞

"You say that every time." It comes off as a little more of an accusation than he intends, but it's not necessarily untrue. Peter does say it, almost every time he suggests something, and James is reaching his tipping point. There's something going on. The war has taken it's toll on all of them, dragging down their spirits like a fucking vice. It's not fair, not when they're only just graduated, only just on the precipice of becoming adults, and they haven't had a chance to live. And as tolerant as James wants to be, tries to be, none of that can relieved the ache he feels every single time Peter says no, or doesn't show up, or cancels at the last minute. Once upon a time, all he could do was spend every waking moment at James' side, and James misses his best friend. It hurts. It's his fucking birthday. It's a slow descent into losing him. He can see it from a mile away, can tell that Peter's mind is somewhere else, even in Order meetings. Maybe he's planning on becoming a hermit, on running away, on totally disengaging from the wizarding world to keep him safe. James wouldn't blame him, really, - the bigger Lily's bump gets, the more tempting the thought becomes for him, too. "Don't worry about it," James settles on finally, lifting a hand to pat Peter's shoulder. He doesn't smile when he says it, simply shrugs, swallowing down the lump in his throat. "There's always next year."

mcrningecans​:

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

What did that even mean any more?

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

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

They had each other. They needed each other.

He needed her. 

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

It burned.

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

‘ hold up ‘ reverse - cause its happened a lot lets be honest

He's got one hand on the back of Sirius' jacket, and if James looks close enough, he's pretty certain he can see the sheen of the leather fading from where he's grabbed the same spot so many times. London is busy at the best of times, and even busier on a Saturday night, he's noticed. Not that they've been in the city all too often; the extent of their time hanging out outside of the castle has been sorely restricted to Hogsmeade and the Potter Estate, for the most part. It's only in the past year or so that he and Sirius have really been given permission to go out into London, to enjoy the free time they have the summer before their seventh year and upcoming graduation. He feels light on his feet. Unstoppable. Invincible. They'd downed half a bottle of firewhiskey between the two of them before leaving the house, portkeyed to a little village just outside the city, and got the next bus right into the center of town - and thank you, Evans, for the scintillating lesson on muggle public transport. Still, Sirius seems intent to end their night early, and as a double decker bus goes whizzing past on the road, horn honking loudly, the wing mirror of the muggle monster of steel and dusty seats nearly smacks his best friend clean in the nose as Sirius tries to step out to cross. It's barely seven in the evening, and too close a call. "Thought I was supposed to be the blind one?" James snorts, trying to ignore the racing in his heart as he pulls Sirius back onto the path.

Ұ How short/tall is your character compared to their peers?

HEADCANON:

In the earlier years of Hogwarts, James would have been considered pretty tall. He'd hit a growth spurt early, which definitely made it easier to get onto the quidditch team sooner, rather than later. He learned how to use it to his advantage, though as the years have gone by, he's settled into a comfortable 'just a little taller than average'.

Tall enough to give Lily a kiss on the forehead, and to hold Harry on his shoulders so he feels like he's flying, and to make fun of Sirius for being a little shorter than him, he'd say. That's all that matters.

ofmollyweasley​:

Who:​​​ @jamiespxtter Where: order meeting

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

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

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

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

--

The Order meetings had been a bad decision.

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

The days never got better.

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

Neither had Peter.

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

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

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

Severus Snape

nighttimestorrm​:

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

But then he spoke.

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

Something was wrong.

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

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

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

How long either of them had been gone.

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

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

There was nothing invincible about it.

Sirius looked so tired. 

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

But James was always good at taking the first step. 

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

Perhaps it was.

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

greek goddess asks

aphrodite - who do you love most in this world?

hebe - what’s you’re fondest memory from your childhood?

melpomane - what is your favourite song?

nike - what are you most proud of?

thalia - who can always make you laugh when you’re feeling sad?

urania - do you believe in astrology? why/ why not?

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

polyhymnia - do you belong to a religion? which one?

pheme - which celebrity do you find most inspirational?

hecate - if you were a witch, what kind of animal would your familiar be?

clotho - do you want children? what do you want to call them?

artemis - are you a vegetarian/ vegan?

athena - do you have a favourite piece of art? what is it?

enyo - do you get angry easily?

harmonia - if you could learn to play any instrument, what would it be?

hestia - would you rather live in the countryside or the city? why?

hygenia - are you a tidy person?

nyx - when was the last time you stayed out past midnight?