cris • tee • nuh (

cristina_lacosa) wrote,
@ 2008-01-09 03:02:00

+++jamesflavors

P O T T E R ¤ james

Happy • Angry • Sad • Concerned • Scared

Crying • Giddy • First Crush • Yule Ball • Innocent

Betrayed • Baby • Best Friend • Working • Traumatized

Wary • Drunk • Flustered • Bitchy • Paternal-Love

First Year • Graduating • Sorting • Hogwarts • Pick Your Own

14/25


¤ Best Friend He was screwed. He was beyond screwed. He was beyond whatever was beyond screwed. It had never occurred to James that he could actually get in trouble for doing something stupid, though in retrospect…no, no it still wouldn’t have occurred to him, because filling the suit of armors with stink bombs and carefully funneling out the smoke and smell from a certain area of the body was simply hilarious no matter who you are---don’t deny it, so---so he probably would have done it anyway, but the fact that Filch had turned the corner before he could actually get away, and the fact that he’d caught his Invisibility Cloak on the edge of the statue of the hunchback witch was making this seem a lot less funny than it should’ve been. Still funny, but definitely not as fulfilling. Oh, oh crap, crap, crap, crap. James’ ear was pressed to the door of the broomcloset he was hiding in to listen for the caretaker’s footsteps. Filch had been in such a bad mood this morning at breakfast (but really, when wasn’t the man---) because some Hufflepuffs had managed to spill all of their milk onto the ground and then they managed to spread it all over the hall and and and “Mister. Black,” Filch’s voice rang out in the hallway, and James’ eyes widened and mouth dropped. “And I suppose you have no idea what’s making the armor so----Did you say flatulent?----C’mere you brat!” James opened the door in just enough time to see Sirius being dragged around the corner by Filch, both fists pointing thumbs up in James’ direction. A soppy grin crossed his face and he snatched his invisibility cloak off from the statue and followed in quick pursuit of his best friend---got to return the favor now, huh? James thought as he fingered some more stink bombs in his pocket.

¤ Innocent “But Professor! I swear---I don’t even know where the Hufflepuff dorms are!” Lies, but that wasn’t the point. “Right, and I’m the Queen of England,” Sprout snapped, continuing to drag James by the collar. James didn’t struggle against the professors’ grip, but he couldn’t understand it! He’d been on the other side of the castle when the hallway leading to the Hufflepuff dorms was filled with jelly. Fantastic idea, really, but James hadn’t done it and for some reason Professor Sprout had gotten it into her head that he was the culprit. If anything she should be rounding up Sirius, Remus, and Peter too, because everyone knew that schemes of that caliber were Marauder material, not solo revenge plots--- “But! But I didn’t do it!” “And how do you explain the charms notes that Severus found lying right at the end of the hallway, hmmm? Don’t even try to wiggle your way out of this, Mister. Potter!” James was too stunned to even argue the point, and as he was pushed down into the seat in front Professor McGonagall’s desk as Sprout when off at him, he recalled with boiling blood the collision he’d shared with Snape earlier that week. After Charms.

¤ Paternal Love “Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-dee. Daaa-de. Daddy. Da. Da. C’mon Harry, Da. Da’s not that hard to figure out, Daaaaaa.” James lifted Harry up in front of him, staring at the boy with a smirk on his face. Harry puffed his cheeks and was looking at him as if to say ‘Sorry, Pops,’ and kicked his legs out. Sure the kid was only eight months and fourteen days, but he was a Potter and surely he was going to be ahead of the curve. Damn it, he’d never hear the end of it if Neville spoke first. “Harry. Mate. Buddy, pal,” James said, putting his son on his knee and raising his eyebrows. Harry didn’t really like sitting still and wriggling to grab onto the front of his shirt, and James helped the boy stand on his stomach as he leaned into the back of the couch, “I’m asking you this teeny weenie favor, and you can’t help your father out? The man who gave you life?” “Eeeeeeee!” Harry squealed, grabbing onto James’ ear and tugging hard. “Mother fucker---Harry, this is serious business! I swear, if Longbottom comes over here and Neville’s spouting Shakespeare, someone isn’t getting that broomstick I’ve got stashed up in the closet for his birthday.” Harry, whether he knew it or not, looked flabbergasted at the idea of not getting his broomstick, and promptly smacked James in the nose, laughing hard at how amusing it apparently was. James stared sternly at the baby for a few moments before cracking a grin, lifting Harry up and over his head again. “Good one! Holy shit, you could definitely be a beater with that arm, I told Sirius you look like a seeker, but holy hell that was perfect, hit me right on the tip of the nose, you did---"

¤ First Crush James watched his future wife chit chat with some bumbling idiot by the buffet table. Who did that berk think he was, talking to Andromeda like that? Like she’d give them the time of day. Look---look, James could already see that she was bored, she did that thing with her eyes where she looked just over the guy’s shoulder and…yep, she was bored. Right, he should go entertain her and make her realize that he was the guy for her and that she would never ever be bored again. Because of course, everybody knew that James Potter was anything but boring. But he was stuck at the stupid kiddy table. He was a full seven years old, there was no need for this. Sure he couldn’t stand or pronounce half the food that the ‘big kids’ were eating, but so what? He had more brains that than fool talking to Andromeda, who looked even more beautiful now that she’d spent a year away at Hogwarts. Sigh. She was just perfect. Simply, per---“Ew.” James pulled his elbow out of the butter dish before his mummy could see that he ruined another set of robes and wiped it down Frank Longbottom’s sleeve. He ignored Frank’s protests and turned back to Andromeda, letting out another sigh.

¤ Flustered “Apologize to Evans!” “I don’t want you to make him apologize, you’re as bad as he is…” “What? I’d NEVER call you a---you-know-what!” James couldn’t BELIEVE that Lily would think he’d stoop as low as bloody Snivellus. Mudblood was the worst thing you could call a muggleborn, anyone really, and---even though James didn’t believe any of that rubbish about blood mattering at ALL, but the fact of the matter was that Lily was comparing him? Comparing him? To SNAPE? Was she bloody BLIND? James knew that she and Snape were friends (for Merlin knows WHAT reason, James couldn’t figure it out if it had bit him on the nose---) but she had to know that he would never hang around the blokes Snape did or---or— Or disrespect her that way, cause that’s what it was! Snape acted like he was her friend, but he was just using her because Lily was so damn smart! Snape could never perform the magic Lily could, even in a million years! She was bloody brilliant while this groveling idiot followed her around like a puppy dog. It was obvious that Snape liked Lily, but at least James didn’t try to hide behind a veil of friendship. “---You make me SICK.” “Evans! Hey, EVANS! What is it with her?” James let out a huff and turned back to Snape, who was trying to sneak away. Oh, oh no. No one left James Potter all bothered like that and got away with it---

¤ Baby “I’m really sorry, Harry.” Lily was still asleep and James had found his way into the nursery. The other healers had warned him not to try and sneak in during non-visiting hours, but he found that the nurses were turning away and ‘not seeing’ him enter and take his son out of the basinet. He wasn’t doing anything, really, just holding the boy, and if it were any other day James would be allowed in there anyway, so, really. They could just stuff it. His face was still quite red and swollen, but James reckoned he was gorgeous like Lily and couldn’t wait to see the final shade of color his eyes would turn. He was betting on green, he was hoping for green, but he’d be fine with any other color. James rocked slightly in the chair and looked up at the clock. He was approximating having about ten to fifteen minutes left before a nurse ‘caught’ him in there, so James began to hum slightly as he thought of what else to say. He wanted to apologize to Harry for bringing him into such a chaos filled world. James had hoped that by the time his son had arrived Voldemort would be disposed of, that there were no more friends dying and disappearing…James held the sleeping boy closer to his chest, ducking his head to take in the smell of his son. He wanted to apologize for not being able to fix everything and he wanted to apologize for not being able to promise that the world would be a better place when he grew up. With his face still pressing into the side of Harry’s, James let out a breath, realizing that there was no use in apologizing to an infant. All Harry knew, was that this man holding him seemed friendly, that the woman with the red hair held him just as warmly and fed him when he was hungry. Harry liked the voices of these two people, and some other people too—he’d heard them for a long time now, and they seemed friendly enough. Harry knew that when he cried someone would help him, and when he wanted to go to sleep he’d find himself wrapped up in a warm blanket so he could fall into a peaceful slumber. And that’s all James wanted him to know. He sat back and scrunched his nose at Harry whose eyes had opened. “Sorry you inherited my hair, mate,” James whispered, his free hand (he could basically hold Harry in one hand, how amazing---) smoothing down the baby’s already wild locks, “I can’t help you, there. Hopeless cause.”

¤ Crying “Mister Potter---Mister Potter, is that you?” Minerva McGonagall sighed as she bent down and found James Potter curled up under the bleachers in the Gryffindor section of the quidditch stadium. She’d sent the first year away from tryouts over an hour ago, and if Minverva remember Charlus correctly from their days at school, then his son was proving to be just as stubborn. “No it’s not,” James’ muffled voice was barely heard through the robes he’d pulled over his face and by the slight hiccupping she could hear, Minerva was quite sure that the boy had been crying the whole time he’d been up here. She sighed and sat on the seats above James, reaching through and tugging on his robes to pull him out. He hesitated at first but slowly crawled out and kept his head bowed, determined not to look at his head of house. He had Dorea’s hair, that was for sure, but James was almost a miniature version of his father that Minerva recalled fondly. “Mister Potter, you knew weeks before tryouts that first years were not allowed on House teams.” “But I’m r-really good,” James said, turning to her quickly before he realized she’d be able to see his red eyes behind his glasses and then turned away again. Minerva couldn’t help the smirk that slid onto her face, and she let out a sigh, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I know, that’s why I’ve reserved a tryout spot for you next year.” Lies, but James didn’t need to know that. The boy jumped to his feet, mouth dropped wide and he let out something like a shriek before quickly hugging Minerva and dashing off, screaming something about having to tell Sirius---Minerva sighed and leaned back into the seats, staring out at the pitch. It was going to be a long seven years.

¤ First Year Why did he have to sit here and listen to Flitwick go on, and on…and…on about a stupid levitation spell he’d perfected on the train? If the professor would just let James demonstrate, he could leave and not have to go to Charms ever again because he’d read that book three times since getting it in Diagon Alley this summer. “Mister Potter! Having a nice nap?” James’ eyes blinked open and he was glad his hand had propped his head up because his chin would have surely slammed against the desk and that would have been thoroughly embarrassing. He sat up, holding back a yawn and looked at the tiny professor that was standing in front of his desk. “Er…not really.” “Would you like to demonstrate Wingardium Leviosa for the class, Mister Potter? Seeing as you obviously don’t need to pay attention to my lesson?” James shrugged lightly and flicked out his wand, “Wingardium Leviosa!” and the feather fluttered up into the air with what seemed like careless ease and it caused a few giggles to erupt from the girls in the class. James grinned and dropped the feather in front of the blonde girl, Liz, with a wink. She’d always fancied him, he remembered her from the ice cream parlor and all the extra ice cream she’d give him. Flitwick frowned, apparently annoyed that James had managed to perform the spell, and stepped into the certain of the room. “Okay Mister Potter, I’m going to make you a bet.” The boy’s ears perked and he sat up a bit straighter. “If you can levitate this desk,” the professor floated one out into the center of the room, in the midst of murmuring of the class, “Then you do not have to write our first essay.” “Sure!” “Don’t you want to know what you have to do if you can’t?” “…why?”

¤ Drunk “Liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiily! Lily Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeevaaaaaaaaaaans!” Oy, Hogsmeade weekend plus quidditch victories plus a crush that had developed into a deep, burning desire plus stairs that boys could not climb plus lots of alcohol were not a good combination. No…no not at all. Nottttttt at all. “Liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiily! Lily with only onnnnnnnneeeeeee Lllllllllllll.” In the back of his mind, James was quite sure that his friends were sitting up the stairwell to the dorms and laughing their arses off at him, but that was far, far in the recesses of his cloudy, drunk brain. Who cared if he was hollering at almost two in the morning for the woman, yesssssss, the woman he was in love with? Oooh, yes, James was definitely in love with Lily Evans, what else could it be? Beeeeeeeecause, because she was sooooooooo pretty, pretty, pretty, and---smart, holllly shit, was she smart. Not as smart as him, but smart enough. Cause…cause she couldn’t have anything less, right? Think about it! Why shouuuuld Lily lower herself for some bloke who wasn’t as smart as her, or as gorgeous, or as…as…as a whooole lots of other stuff? Right, she wouldn’t, and therefore James was the perfect match. He tried one last time to get up the Gryffindor girls’ staircase and slid unceremoniously down them, landing at the foot of the slide with a thud. The roaring laughter of the other Marauders rang down the stairs and James tried to push himself up, but the room was spinning, his arms felt like jell-o, and he was suddenly very…very…tiiiiiiiired…

¤ Bitchy The Potions lesson had actually been interesting, what with the prize of Felix Felicis and all. James had actually not said a word throughout Slughorn’s instructions and had taken very diligent notes. He had to win, could you imagine what they could get done with a vial of that potion? Merlin’s pants, they’d be unstoppable (not that they already weren’t, but even more so), and James wanted nothing more than to win it. He didn’t want Sirius to win it, or even Remus, no, no---he wanted to win it for the boys, and even hesitated in letting Sirius copying the last bit of notes in fear that his friend would beat him to it. The timer went off and the class began to work, and James could feel the tension in the air. Some people might not have such a strong reason for wanting to win the potion, but the pull of the prize, just imagining what luck it could bring them had to be on everyone’s mind. James could feel the vial in his grip, the potion was turning out exactly like the instructions said, he was counting down perfectly, each swirl of the spoon, each drop of ingredients, there was no way anyone else could have done this better, not even Lily and oh, he would let her know later--- “Done.” James nearly dropped his spoon at the voice, and his head shot up to see Snape with his hand up. No fucking way, Snape couldn’t have done it any faster, he must’ve skipped a step, he had to have. He almost missed the timer to stir the potion once more as he watched Slughorn approach Snape’s supposedly finished potion, and James let out a strangled cough as Slughorn clapped his hands together. “Mister Snape’s got it! Twenty points to Slytherin, good show, Severus, I’ll be seeing you at the potions meeting this afternoon, yes? No? Hm?” The rest of the class grumbled and handed in their potions, and James stalked up to the front desk in silence, not even laughing at Sirius’ jokes about how Snape’s going to ask Madame Rosemerta on a date after taking a swig of the potion and still manage to get shot down. All he could think about was that Snape had to have cheated, had to have done something to his potion to make it look done, but it couldn’t possibly be---- “Move it,” James grumbled, shoving past Snape as he exited the class, grinning wickedly at the sound of glass crashing against the stone ground.

¤ Happy “Come on Harry, eaaaaaaat the cookie, look, it’s a broom stick, bbbbbbbbllllppppppp…what, my onomatopoeias not good enough for you? Am I going to have to get Uncle Moony over here to teach me some more? Ooooopen. Open wide. Come on. Oh for fuck’s sake, you know you want the cookie, Harry!” But the baby was sitting in the high chair, mouth shut tightly, green eyes glaring, and if he could, he’d cross his chubby arms stubbornly across his chest. James was leaning forward in his chair, holding the cookie (that was really some vitamin thing Lily had brought home) up and moving it around as if a broomstick. His son had apparently noticed the difference in taste at his first lick of the thing, and had refused to put it in his mouth again. His eyes hadn’t left Harry’s, and, oh, this showdown could go on for ages, if Harry really wanted to play like that. James was off today, he had no problem with having a staring contest with a one-year-old. “I could do this all day, buddy,” James said, leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms defiantly as if to show off this mastered skill. Harry slapped the table of his high chair, letting out a squeak, and James had half a mind to stick the cookie in his mouth, but thought better, and simply waggled the cookie again. “I know you’re jealous, I know you want it, you’re just in a mood. Your mum gets like that, but I usually end up on top, if you know what I mean.” His nose scrunched immediately at ‘what he meant’ and James made a note not to talk like that to Harry again. “Anyway, you’re going to eat this cookie, whether you like it or not…look, I bet it’s not even that bad tasting, you’re just being a brat,” James didn’t hesitate in taking a bite from the cookie and a second later his face was twisted with disgust. Oh, fucking---he forced it down his throat, trying to smile at the same time, but the damn thing was vile. “I am so sorry, Harry.” Harry laughed and chucked his cereal bits at James as if to say ‘told you’ and began to bang on the table once again. “Oh yeah?” James flipped out his watch and turned on the wireless, and thankfully something with a beat came on. He began to rap his hands on the kitchen table to the music, and Harry continued along with his random drumming, legs kicking out under the table happily. Loud shrieks of joy filled the kitchen and the yucky cookie was rattled so much that it fell to the floor, where it was immediately scooped up by Wilbur, who immediately spit it back out and began to howl. “You’re joking, right?” Lily’s voice came over the loud music and howling, and James, Harry, and Wilbur stopped all at once and looked over to where the two women of the house (Galatea was perched up on the counter, simply staring) were watching them as if they were lunatics, a bottle of suntan lotion in her hand from the trip to the beach she'd been on with the girls. James grinned and pulled out a cookie from the box for Lily, “You’ve got to try these, the guys love them.”

¤ Yule Ball Going stag to the Yule Ball had not been the best of ideas. Apparently every girl at Hogwarts had managed to snag a date, and those who hadn’t had stayed in the dorms, probably quite embarrassed. James couldn’t figure out what had possessed him to go along with Sirius’ idea, oh, oh wait, yes he could---Lily had shot him down again. Well bollocks to that, he didn’t need her to have a good time, now did he? Except he couldn’t stop glowering as she danced some stupid dance to some stupid song with stupid Ben and his stupid giant eight-foot tall self…stupid bloody prat with his stupid hair that stupidly stayed down when he wanted it to. Not that he needed to dance with Lily to have a good time, James was just pointing out the stupid things that were going on. Slouched in his chair, he twirled his wand around his fingers, looking for something to make less stupid, and was disappointed when he couldn’t find Snape. Though, he shouldn’t exactly have expected to find Snape in a friendly, social event, but his attention always went to Snape when looking for some form of entertainment. “Shhhhh, Miranda, we’re not supposed to be here!” James twisted in his seat and his eyebrows rose amusedly at the sight of a pair of Gryffindor third years hiding behind the high backs of the chairs. He recognized one as Gillian Rosemerta, and the other one, who was tugging her friend’s hand toward the dance floor had to be Miranda Dodderidge. “We’re going to get into so much trouble!” “Not if you’ve got an older date,” James said, standing up and turning on the charm. Both girls squeaked and James flicked Peter, who had been sitting there just as bored as James, in the side of the head, “Pete, I think Miss. Rosemerta here would like to dance, she looks very nice in her robes, don’t you think?” “Er---yes?” “Yes, yes she does, now go.” James then turned his attention to Miranda, who stood with her eyes as wide as quaffles, frozen to the spot. “D’you want to dance, Randy?” “Ah---aheheh—I…I…you..ah…ahum…” James smiled brightly at the girl who let out some weird sort of whimpering sound, and managed to miss the gasp she let out as he grabbed her hand and took her out to the dance floor.

¤ Sad The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... He didn’t move when Frank Longbottom leaned on the balcony beside him; James just continued to stare out into the Forbidden Forest, chin resting on his hands that were plastered to the smooth stone. It was nearing midnight, they’d been there since after dinner, but James felt like he’d been sitting in that red and gold chair for an eternity. Lily and Alice were back in Dumbledore’s office with McGonagall as it was imperative that the women learn the proper precautions they’d have to take for the final months of their pregnancies. The husbands had been ushered out as some of the charms and spell work were a bit, ah, personal, and James had been surrounded in only the noise of the forest since. ...born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... He’d always believed divination was a crock of shit. Who was this Trelawney woman, anyway? How reliable was her so-called ‘inner eye’? It had taken James’ mind a full two hours to fully acknowledge Dumbledore’s trust in the woman; that he honestly believed that the words that had slipped out of her mouth were that of an actual prophecy. Divination was the easy O, class. Everyone took it, faked what they saw in the tea leaves, made up some interesting stories, and memorized planet charts. There weren’t real seers, and those who supposedly could actually tap into such magic…they…they weren’t found above a dingy bar in Hogsmeade, that was for sure. And---and who said that they had to take it so seriously? Just because some woman had made some predictions, it didn’t necessarily mean that they were to come true. James had always believed that to an extent, you controlled your fate. That’s why he lived like he did, that’s why he took the chances he took, he knew that his consequences were because of his actions; not that of some predestined timeline. ...and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... James turned his head slightly away from Frank--who’d crouched low to press his forehead against the stone, as his eyes watered. Their sons weren’t even born, and their lives were already being toyed with. It wasn’t fair, hadn’t they done enough? Defying Voldemort three times, wasn’t that enough, Fate? Do you really need to fuck up the lives of two perfectly innocent children? Fate---you’re a fucking asshole, and James stood up, letting out a shaky breath. He’d come to the conclusion that he wasn’t going to make it out of this war alive a long, long time ago. He’d been lucky, so far. Most of it, almost all of it had been luck---and slowly, but unfortunately, surely, luck had to run out. The Order had already been hit hard. Marlie, Caradoc, Dorcas…James knew that it would be a miracle that surpassed all miracles if he and Lily both survived the war, a miracle he would gladly take, but he had been preparing himself for it. But not for his son. His son had a future, no matter the…there’s the word again, fate of his parents. ...and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... “I don’t want it to be your son,” James said, voice shaking terribly. He’d promised himself the moment he found out that there were two candidates for the prophecy that he would never have an ill thought toward the Longbottoms, or wish for a different outcome, if one ever came. There was no way he could cast such an ill fate on someone’s family. Frank’s shoulders stiffened and he pulled his head away from the stone with a slight nod. His eyes were blood shot and face terribly pale; James was certain his looked the same. “I don’t want it to be your son,” Frank said with another nod, standing and taking a few deep breaths. James found he couldn’t look at his friend, who he’d been with so much through---it almost seemed appropriate that Frank was standing there beside him, once again going through tremendous tragedy. James looked out toward the forest again, shaking his head. ...the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies.

¤ Scared Why on was he doing this? This was a bad idea. A really bad idea. What had they been thinking? His insides flipped for the millionth time that morning and James felt a sudden wave of nausea hit. No, oh—fuck. Terrified. He was bloody terrified and this was the dumbest thing he’d ever done in his life and--- He could not get married. They were too young! They were way, way too young for this, they had just finished school, there was a war raging, and---and they still fought a lot, and holy crap he couldn’t remember his vows. Lily was going to kill him. Then they wouldn’t get married. So maybe he should forget his vows, have Lily kill him, and that’d be that. Remus poked him in the back and James nearly jumped out of his skin. Oh, fuck---here came Sirius and Liz, the best man and maid of honor, that meant— “Prongs,” Remus muttered, “I’d recommend breathing.” “Yeah, breathing’s good,” Peter piped up from behind Remus. “Breathing is actually one of the few things that keep us alive,” Frank said with a sagely nod, and James turned slightly to glare at all of his supposed friends. Why were they grinning so madly? His friends, his friends should have been kidnapping him and taking him far away from anything that remotely looked like an altar or a church or anything that could bind two people together for the rest of their lives. Their entire lives. That’s a long time, did you know that? That’s a bloody long time, and what if---what if Lily got sick of him and didn’t want to deal with him anymore? What if her parents decided that he wasn’t good enough for their daughter and forced a divorce and he’d never see her again--- He was flicked in the side of the head by Sirius and his glasses almost slid off his face. James glowered, but his head rose when the music started to play, when the guests stood and turned around, when the back door opened and revealed Mr. Evans and…Lily…just…perfect… James remembered why he was doing this.

(Read comments)

Post a comment in response:

scribbld is part of the horse.13 network
Design by Jimmy B.
Logo created by hitsuzen.
Scribbld System Status