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persephone-writes · 21 hours ago

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A Diviner's Guide to James Potter

Chapter Fifteen: Repairo

James Potter x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Chapter Fourteen ☆ Series Masterlist

Description: Two diverging paths are presented to you: avoidance or intuition. Which one will you choose?

Word Count: 7k

Notes: as per usual, I know nothing about the divination that I use in this chapter, but I tried my best to make it accurate and also work with the story. I apologize if anything is super inaccurate!

You stayed in the Astronomy Tower later than usual, the early hours of the morning creeping up on you without you noticing. You were the last one left, ruminating over the meaning of the stars. When you finally became too tired to reasonably continue, you begrudgingly gathered your things and left. You appreciated the silence of your walk back, the castle appearing grander under the shadows of your lonely journey.

The common room was empty when you arrived, and while you ached for sleep, your mind was still restless. You watched the stars outside the windows from your spot on the sofa, twinkling in the black sky like little candles lighting an otherwise unseeable path. What it led to, you did not know. You turned away, balling up your pass and tossing it into the fire.

As usual, you were in out of your depth. The mistake of looking at James’s chart had been made, and there was no going back. Now, the insatiable desire to know more would always be there, urging you on and on until you had all the answers, the perfect reading. You needed help, though you had no one to go to.

As you stared into the dancing flames, the heaviness in your shoulders growing, the portrait hole opened. Your head shot over to see who it was at this time, praying it wasn’t James on one of his late night excursions. You weren’t sure if you were thankful or displeased to see Remus step through, his Prefect badge pinned to his muggle shirt. He seemed tired himself, though that was not unusual. He was always in a perpetual state of insomnia and aching joints, only making your problems seem childish by comparison.

“Hey,” he said as he neared you, “what’re you doing up?”

“Just not tired, I guess.” It was a bold lie, given that you were forcing your eyes to stay open, suppressing a yawn as you spoke.

Remus stood there for a moment, seeming to debate his options. He gave you a tight lipped smile, motioning to the spot beside you. “Mind if I sit?”

You shook your head, watching as he sat down on the other end. Neither of you spoke for a minute, each listening to the music of the crackling wood.

“I don’t know how you Prefects do it, having to stay up late all the time,” you said finally, keeping your voice to a whisper.

“I’d probably be up anyway. Besides, you astronomer’s do it just fine,” he answered, pausing as he turned to you with a mischievous look in his eyes. “So, I hear you’re in the dueling club now?”

You groaned, slumping down into the couch, your legs stretching out in front of you. “Maybe not for long. I’m the oldest one there, I feel like a freak.”

“More than usual?”

You only rolled your eyes, sitting up straight again. A log on the fire popped, sending sparks flying into the hearth.

“I know we’re not that close,” Remus began, “but I feel like I have to mention it.”

You sighed, knowing very well what he was referring to. “I figured it was coming eventually.”

“James won’t tell us anything. All I know is that whatever you guys talked about, it’s put him in a mood,” he said, smiling a fraction. “I think Sirius might kill him soon.”

“Glad to know we’re feeling the same,” you mumbled.

“It’s become rather annoying.”

You snorted. “He has a talent for that.”

Remus said your name, more serious this time. You looked away, wary of whatever he was about to say. It was unusual for him to butt in, a bad sign that whatever you had gotten yourself into was far more significant than just you and James. This was bleeding out into everyone else, slowly unspooling your tightly wound secret.

“I hope you don’t get upset with me for asking, but do you and James have something going on?” he asked hesitantly.

You let out a long, exacerbated breath, rubbing your hands over your eyes. “No. Why does everyone seem to think that? What could possibly give you that impression?”

Remus shrugged, smirking a bit at your discouraging expression. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d be a surprise. You know that James is shite at keeping secrets from us. But if it were true, I’d believe it.”

“That did nothing to answer my question,” you said, your voice flat.

“Well, he got pretty pissy when you said you weren’t shagging.”

“That's just how he is,” you grumbled.

“No, it’s not,” Remus said with a shake of his head, still amused by your annoyance. You raised your brows, unconvinced. “Sometimes he is,” he amended, “but most of the time it’s a joke. He’s not really upset when we call him a git or say his glasses make him look like Minnie.”

You snorted at the memory of the joke which once dominated all conversation. Peter had come up with it during the first quidditch match last year, though Sirius couldn’t let it go until it fully ran its course, thus becoming entirely unfunny by January.

“That one was true,” you chuckled. “That’s what he gets for trying out a different pair. Can’t reinvent the wheel.”

“Was that a pun?”

You huffed, rolling your eyes.

“Y’know,” Remus began again, “sometimes the way you look at each other is bloody disgusting, like we shouldn’t even be in the same room with you two.”

You didn’t respond, your chest growing heavy at the similarity between his and Marlene’s words. It was two for two, doubling the believability, though not enough to convince you just yet.

Remus laughed a bit, continuing despite your silence, “Any minute I expect you guys to start snogging.”

“Well, that’s never gonna happen,” you said, another pang running through your heart.

Remus sighed, standing up from his spot on the sofa and glancing down at you. His eyes were soft as you met them, his smile weak but nonetheless one of a good friend. “I won’t say it, ‘cause I have a feeling that's why you’ve been shooting daggers at Padfoot for over a week,” he paused, considering the shift in your expression, “but, I know…or at least I think I do.”

Again, you didn’t say anything. You didn’t even know if you had anything to say, your breath quivering a bit as your eyes shot back towards the hearth. Remus allowed you to stay mute, moving around the side of the sofa to head to the dormitories. Before he left, he came behind you, giving you a small pat on the shoulder, just like he would’ve done for one of the guys.

“Give it a shot,” he said, continuing towards the staircase, “you might be surprised.”

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“Listen to this, ‘Merchum denies that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry could be a target for any attack, violent or otherwise, despite rumors to the contrary. While agents of He Who Shall Not Be Named largely remain unknown, various high ranking Ministry officials have been ousted as part of their ranks. Other lower level Ministry employees have also been linked to a network of informants aiding in the recent attacks. When asked if it was plausible that Hogwarts has also been breached, or could be in the future, Minster Merchum stated, “...my faith in Headmaster Dumbledore is unmatched, as if my belief that our increased security efforts shall thwart—”’ bla, bla, bla,” Dorcas said, abruptly ending her reading with a groan. “Well, we know that’s a load of rubbish.”

In an act of solidarity, your friends were lounging about your dormitory Wednesday morning during your free period. Wednesdays were always slow days, even for Lily, who’s schedule was the most packed out of anyone you knew.

Lily put down her book, taking the Daily prophet from Dorcas across from her and scanning over the article. Her bottom lip pulled between her teeth, her head not lifting even when Marlene began to speak.

“I’m starting to agree with Sirius about Merchum, which is not a pleasant thought.”

Dorcas snorted a bit, shaking her head with a small, joyless smile.

“How many years is it going to go on? It feels like twenty by now,” you said, groggy from what felt like the longest three days of your life. Your DADA homework couldn’t have been helping.

“It just about has been,” said Marlene, her head falling in her hand. She looked to Lily, who finally glanced up.

“Another child was attacked,” Lily said, dropping the paper onto her lap. “It’s been a while since that’s happened. I’m starting to think Sirius may be right, as well.”

You rubbed your eyes as you tried will away the thought of someone like Remus, only five years old, asleep in bed while someone stalked just outside their window.

“I wonder what they’re doing with them,” you said softly. “The Slytherins and Zephyr, I mean.”

“Hopefully they’ve thrown them all in the tower cell,” said Dorcas with a sneer.

“They wouldn’t do that,” Lily said, beginning to fold up the paper, concealing the dreary article from view. “But I have no doubt Dumbledore is taking care of it. He’s been able to keep it all out of Hogwarts this long. It’s out there where they’re having trouble.”

Out there. You sat silently, letting the awful phrase ring out in your skull. There were so many reasons to hate it out there, to loathe its very existence. You thought you ought to write to your parents more often, even though you had no idea what you would even say. Maybe you’d just let them know you pitied them and their occupation of out there, the place where things occur.

“How many months till we’re out of here?” Marlene asked.

“A little over three,” Lily answered, her mind clearly elsewhere. She wasn’t looking at either of you, gnawing at her lip again.

“How exciting,” Marlene drawled.

“Yeah,” you said mindlessly, the threat of July looming over you like chimney smoke.

You shook your head as if to clear your thoughts, remembering an issue that somehow seemed far more pressing. You’d been itching to go to the Library to gather more materials on astrology, though you hadn’t had the chance yet. While your astrological talents were likely one the best out of the Gryffindor's, you were nowhere near skilled enough to get a full, in depth reading on yours and James’s charts just with a single reference book. However, if you went to the Library now, Lily would surely want to come along, forcing you to wait until all three of your dormmates left for Herbology.

When they had gone, you headed straight to the Divination section of the Library and grabbed as many relevant books as you could find. However, despite hours of work, your readings were still elementary at best. As lunch neared, you realized that all the books in the world were no match for a true diviner’s perspective. You lugged them back to their shelves with a sour huff, mulling over your options. There were only two, though neither of them seemed pleasant. You could either learn to be happy with what you had, or seek out the help of a professional.

Making up your mind quicker than expected, you plopped back down at your table, pulling out a couple new sheets of parchment. You made separate charts for you and James, devoid of your interpretations or any indication of who they were about. You slipped them back into your bag, safe until you’d need them. Professional, it was.

You and Peter walked together to Transfiguration after Divination, though it was not without its own awkwardness. It was a habit that felt odd to break, so ingrained in your routines that not doing so seemed worse than pushing through your sporadic, dull conversations. You made small talk about Quattlebaum’s new peacock-feathered cap, though Peter’s laughs were half hearted and strained. The relief you each felt when you reached the Transfiguration classroom was evident by your shared sighs and lack of goodbyes.

James hadn’t bothered you since yesterday morning, and by the look of it, it didn’t seem like he was planning on doing so anytime soon. You snuck a single glance his way, only to find his eyes glued to his parchment, scribbling down notes. Like before, the Slytherins and Zephyr were absent, though no word on their whereabouts had slipped past the tight lips of the professors. People had begun to talk, at least in Gryffindor, about their sudden disappearance, though not one of you had let the circumstances out. Everyone besides your group was completely in the dark, and you wanted to keep it that way.

“Mister Black!” McGonagall snapped in the middle of her lecture.

Everyone dropped their quills, the room growing dead quiet. You looked to Sirius, who had perked up in his seat at the sound of his name. He brushed his hair behind his ears, startled by her scolding.

McGonagall clasped her hands in front of her, still looking towards him with harsh eyes. “If you are so skilled in Transfiguration that this class has become boring enough to nap in, I suggest you come to the front and teach it yourself.”

“Sorry, Professor,” Sirius said, though his voice had a playful tilt, just the right amount to get him out of trouble without losing his reputation.

You rolled your eyes, sharing a look with Lily.

“Five points from Gryffindor,” McGonagall said, turning back to the class. “As I was saying…”

Just then, a fluttering scrap of parchment in the shape of a crane weaved through the feet of other students, moving under their desks before landing directly in front of you. You stared at it a moment before looking around, though all your classmates were either focused on McGonagall or their own papers. Even Sirius was staring at your professor, his head resting in his hand. You turned to Lily, who gave an equal expression of perplexity towards the paper. With McGonagall still speaking, her eyes roving across the class, Lily shrugged, going back to taking her notes.

Slowly, you grabbed the paper and pulled it under your desk, the sound of you opening it masked by the cacophony of scratching quills. You instantly recognized the chicken scratch, your heart hammering.

I’m sorry.

You shoved it into your bag, your shoulders tensing. You didn’t dare another glance towards him, lest you meet his dark brown eyes, enchanted with the strong will of a friend aching to be forgiven.

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You stood at the base of the ladder just before last period ended, waiting for the Divination class to leave for the day. When all was clear you climbed up, poking your head into the hatch and peering into the room, though Quattlebaum was nowhere to be found.

“Professor?” you called, climbing inside.

Suddenly, Quattlebaum came around the corner, his peacock-feathered cap bouncing with every step. “Miss L/N, is it Monday already?”

Unsure if he was joking or not, you shook your head. “I was wondering if I could ask for your help on something.”

“Oh! And what might that be?” he asked, flicking his wand towards the tables. Various cups and teapots flew through the air, their contents disappearing before they piled themselves onto the stack in the corner.

“I wanted to practice my astrology, so I decided to try interpreting the compatibility of these charts, but I’m a bit stuck,” you said, reaching into your bag for the charts.

He took the parchment from you, his smile widening. “How exquisite! I’d be delighted to aid in your extracurricular astrological studies. Please, take a seat.”

He took a seat at his desk, placing the charts in front of him to read further. You sat in the chair opposite, fiddling with the sleeves of your robes as you watched his eyes run along your drawings.

“Splendid penmanship,” Quattlebaum said with a joyful gasp. “Did you source your calculations through the Astronomy records?”

“Yes,” you answered, your nerves worsening when he paused over your chart.

He hummed, looking up. “How did you choose these particular dates?”

“Oh, um,” you stuttered, “I was working on a chart for a friend, so I was already on 1960. I figured I would just flip to two random dates for practice.”

“I see,” he muttered, smiling softly.

“I already made my own compatibility report on these two charts, but I wanted an expert's opinion to compare to my own,” you said, growing more and more certain he knew what was going on. You couldn’t recall if he knew your birthday or not, though if he did, it would be plainly evident that this was not an extracurricular endeavor but a personal project.

Quattlebaum made no further sign that he made this connection, taking your chart in his hands as he leaned back in his chair. His lips were still quirked when he picked up James’s chart, holding them side by side. He sat this way for what felt like an hour, his gaze darting between them. Soon, his mouth dropped into something meditative, a small crease forming between his brows.

You took a breath as he leaned forward, dropping the parchment onto his desk without glancing towards you.

“There is tension, much tension,” he began with another hum, “particularly in the Square Sun and Lunar node, as well as the conjunction of Sun and Lilith. Pluto and Saturn are also points of weakness…though not without hope. No! Such charts display a great deal of celestial attraction, harmony within differences. There is a circling, a twin orbit of magnetic power. They likely feel a great pull towards one another, an intense, possibly overwhelming connection which may take great adversity to sever. There is deep understanding despite their unique approaches to conflict, a longing to adopt outlooks which they do not naturally possess.”

He paused, his eyes darting to yours as he pointed towards your chart. “This individual grounds the other, offers an alternative to direct action which may prove impetuous. The other may encourage greater impulsivity, a reliance on the strong intuition which the first holds but does not employ. Such creates a degree of strain, a push and pull…though together they balance what is insufficient. However, an exact prediction of their compatibility is impossible, I’m afraid. As you well know, Miss L/N, our births are rarely our ends.”

You nodded, mulling over his words. Although he had given you a more thorough understanding, you were still desperate for more, grasping at anything you could find.

“Is there nothing more you can tell me?” you asked, hopeful he would oblige you.

He did not speak for a moment, his gaze distant. “If they were able to reach friendship, to find each other in commonality within the fog of our mysterious universe, then the stars tell us much. The Trine Sun and Mars point towards a prevailing kinship, and Venus and Mars to passion, though there is no way of knowing if such a thing did, or will occur. That passion may be in anger, their kinship unable to break through learned prejudices. These sorts of pairings have the possibility for extraordinary success or equal failure.”

Your chest felt heavy, as did everything. You wondered if it had happened in reverse: first came kinship, next prejudice. “I see.”

Quattlebaum was quiet for a few seconds, lost in thought. Finally, he made another noise of intrigue, his head cocking to the side. “However…if their initial meeting was positive, the outlook does appear far more hopeful.”

You sat up straighter, your heart leaping. “Really?”

“I believe so,” he began. “You seem rather invested in this pair, given they were chosen at random.”

“Oh, I just happened to get a similar reading,” you said, trailing off.

“A similar reading,” he repeated.

You swallowed, your hands still fidgeting.

“I can offer you no more, I’m afraid.” Quattlebaum stacked up the parchment, handing it back to you. “Though I hope I was able to be of some help to you.”

You slipped it inside your bag, standing up to leave. “Thank you, Professor—”

“Please, sit a moment longer,” he said, motioning towards the chair.

Slowly, you dropped your bag onto the floor, sitting back down. You sat stiffly, dreading whatever he was about to say.

“Your aura, I’ve noticed, has not been as bright as usual.”

“I’ve been told,” you said warily.

Quattlebaum smiled. “Yes, Sybill mentioned it to me on Monday, though of course I noticed myself. I believe she thinks it’s time for me to retire, and she may be correct,” he chuckled, the feathers on his cap bouncing again. “Is there anything you’d like to tell me? In confidence, of course.”

You looked down at your lap with a shrug. “Something happened with my classmates this weekend. I’m all right, though.”

“Yes, yes, all the professors have been informed,” he said, his voice laced with genuine sadness. “Such a dreaded ordeal, indeed. But this is not what I speak of.”

Your shoulders stayed slumped, still unable to meet his eyes. You pressed your mouth tight, unwilling to speak about your more intimate problems.

“Your aura shows you have been deeply shaken by a great change, one that is far larger than the unfortunate decisions made by your classmates. It is filled with uncertainty. Am I correct?”

You peeked up through your lashes, finding his expression softened and less animated than usual. You nodded, your mouth turning down into a frown.

Quattlebaum stood, walking around his classroom towards a tall, purple cabinet. He opened a drawer, taking out a deck of tarot cards and bringing it back over to his desk. He dropped them down onto the table, though before they hit the surface they spread out in a line, whizzing through the air creating various rings which circled around each other. You watched as this frenzy halted, once again forming a line before settling back down onto the desk.

“The forking paths, you learned it fifth year. A helpful spread when faced with difficult decisions.”

You sighed, pondering whether this was an excellent idea or an awful one. A professor learning about the fact you were in love with one of your friends was not exactly something you were aiming for. Though, even if Quattlebaum did learn everything, who’d believe him?

You reached out, pulling a card from the deck and placing it face down onto the table.

“Uncertainty presents us with two choices, decision and indecision,” said Quattlebaum, watching as you did the same to another. “The choice to act or not to act is always first. All others come after.”

With a flick of his wrist, the cards formed a pile again. He flipped over the first of your cards, an omen you had not stumbled upon but welcomed. However, this did nothing to prevent your anxiety from taking over as you saw what it was, Eight of Cups, reversed.

“Avoidance of the natural flow of life,” he began, his voice low. “Loss and lacking change, the great beasts in the way of growth. You have expected this much.”

You nodded, swallowing as you flipped over the second, the High Priestess, upright.

“Intuition, the truth that lives within us all. Some may see it clearer at first glance, though all possess this gift.” Quattlebaum moved your two cards to the top of his desk, grabbing the deck. “You have been shown your trailheads. Now, connect with your inner sight, choose the path presented by the Eight of Cups: elusion, fallowness.”

You closed your eyes, rooting your feet on the floor as you imagined it: throwing the crane into the fire, scurrying to your dormitory, hiding in the library, going back to the way things used to be when James was just some guy you saw around the common room…

Quattlebaum placed five cards onto the table below the Eight of Cups, motioning for you to flip them over. You did so, one by one.

He began to speak, explaining every card. Although you knew them well, you welcomed his assistance, your mind reeling.

“The Page of Cups, reversed. When reversed, the Page of Cups’ wonder and innocence is used against you, creating misunderstandings, hurt feelings and painful emotions. The Ten of Wands, upright. Someone burdened, struggling to uphold his responsibilities. This is beared alone, often in darkness.”

He followed this pattern for the rest of the cards, Quattlebaum explaining their meaning as you revealed them.

“The Chariot, reversed. The Chariot turns away from its celestial influence, allowing aggression to fester, giving up self-control and determination. The Three of Wands, reversed. Frustration, a lack of method and commitment. There will be unforeseen obstacles and a lack of foresight,” he paused as you flipped the final card, the air growing thick as you each gazed down at it. “The Tower, upright. The crumbling of a mighty structure, upheaval, a disastrous destruction…there is great change in life, a burning away of what was once known.”

Quattlebaum stopped, looking to you as if you had something clever to say. You did not, your thoughts filled with a blinding dread. A dark cloud seemed to hang over you, filled with the awful array of cards before you: painful emotions, burden, aggression, lack of foresight, destruction.

“You have seen the path of the Eight of Cups,” he said, picking up the deck again. “Now, choose the path of the High Priestess: the way of the Diviner.”

I wish you could see the way he looks at you…Give it a shot, you might be surprised…She’s the very best of us…

Slowly and with great purpose, Quattlebaum placed five cards in front of you, waiting as you began to flip them over as you had done before.

“The Knight of Cups, upright. A dreamer, idealistic, the mediator. There is calm, unlike the other knights, whose passion is explosive. There is drive, but not without purity. This often represents following ones heart. Three of Pentacles, upright. The apprentice who listens to others and offers their help. Collaboration, the coming together of minds.”

Your hand hovered over the next card as you flipped it over, momentarily suspended in an odd mix of shock and elation. When you realized your mistake, you quickly pulled your hand away as if the air itself had burned you.

“The Lovers, upright,” Quattlebaum began, moving on as if nothing had happened. “A pair, not the same and yet not entirely different, come together in romance…there is a purposeful choice to their union, for it is just that, a choice.”

You did not give a moment of pause before you turned over the next, unwilling to allow yourself to sit with it much longer.

As you did, Quattlebaum continued, “Ten of Swords, reversed. A survival of tragedy, rebirth through despair, a healing of deep wounds. Finally, the Four of Wands, upright. A welcoming reunion, a celebratory harmony of belonging, a time of stability.”

The air was charged with something, prickling on your skin. You did not speak, taking a long breath. You thought about what you had just seen: following your heart, collaboration, romance, rebirth, harmony.

“Miss L/N,” Quattlebaum said after a moment of silence, “you do not need my assistance in these readings. You know as well as I what they foretell.”

“Yes, Professor,” you said, your voice shaking.

Quattlebaum eyed you, almost wistfully. Something darkened in his gaze, foreboding and unexpected. “There is unmistakable turmoil beyond this castle. It is mounting, very soon to come to a head. In its face, we must all do what we think is right. It is unfortunate, but you must make your choice alone.”

You sat with his words for a moment, your palms beginning to sweat. Your breath was still shaky, though you did your best to calm it, breathing slowly through your nose. After a beat you nodded, moving to grab your bag.

“Thank you for your help, Professor,” you said, standing up to leave.

Quattlebaum didn’t answer, walking you to the hatch and offering you a somber look as you threw it open.

“You have a good heart,” he said as you began to descend the ladder. You stopped, looking up at his unusually stoic expression. “It would serve you well to trust it.”

You gave him another curt nod, hopping down the ladder as he closed the hatch above you. Soon you were alone, standing at the top of the tower staircase. You had received more than you came for, though it had yet to fully sink in. Your feet felt heavy as you walked back to the common room, Quattlebaum’s words punctuating your every step.

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Wednesday evening had been spent mostly in silence on your part. Lily had noticed, asking more than once if you were all right or what she could do to help. Every time you brushed her off, insisting it was just your usual lack of sleep. You went to bed early, feigning a deep slumber while you laid there, staring at the ceiling. Even with all the answers in the world, you still weren’t satisfied. It seemed as though things kept changing every hour, every minute, so fast you were in a constant state of trying to catch up. Now, you thought it may be worse than before. A small sliver of hope had begun to ignite inside of you, fed just enough by weeks of crumbs. When you finally closed your eyes, forcing yourself to rest, you could still see James’s handwriting, hovering within a sea of black.

On Thursday morning, his note was still in your bag. You had forgotten to take it out, carrying it with you when you went to speak with Quattlebaum, then back to your dormitory. You allowed it to stay there when you moseyed down to the kitchens for a late breakfast, having no place to be. You took a long time to finish your food, even longer to drink your tea, heading back up to your room just as second period was getting out.

Lily was there when you came back, hunkered down at her desk with a large stone in front of her. Books and parchment were scattered all around, her wand in her hand.

“Alchemy?”

“Yes,” she sighed, glancing up at you for a moment, “and I’m swamped.”

You chuckled, grabbing your own homework. “That's what you get for taking so many classes.”

She just shook her head, turning back to her stone. She pointed her wand at it, muttering something you didn’t understand.

You each worked like that until lunch when you forced her to leave to get something to eat. You weren’t hungry, giving her the opportunity to eat in the Great Hall for a change. You felt awful that she had spent nearly every meal with you in the kitchens since Sunday, save for the couple of times Marlene was able to bully her out of it.

Alone in your dorm, your eyes caught your scarf lying on your bedside table, concealing your broken wristwatch. It was still flashing between weather patterns, far too distracting to leave out in the open. Lily had promised to help you with it this weekend once she had some free time, for all your attempts to fix it thus far had been unsuccessful.

With a tightened jaw, your mind swirling with guilt over her continued kindness, you flew from your chair, throwing your scarf onto the floor as you grabbed your watch. You shoved it into your pocket as you left the room, in desperate need of some fresh air.

Eventually, you found yourself sitting on a stone bench in the courtyard by Gryffindor Tower, your watch laid on your knee. Trying a new, more advanced form of repairo used on complicated machinery, the watch seemed to mock you as it continued to flash between a snowstorm, a sunny day, and a monsoon. You had little practice with the incantation, which may have been why it had no effect whatsoever. You had absolutely no experience with these sorts of charms to begin with, much less with watchmaking. The possibility you’d be able to fix it yourself was slim, though not zero. You gave it another try, adjusting your wand movements in hopes that was your issue. Again, nothing spectacular occurred.

Suddenly, your head shot up as someone cleared their throat above you, your small jump causing your watch to tumble from your lap onto the grass. James stood with his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, his mouth pulled into an awkward half smile as he looked down at you from a few feet away.

“Hey,” you said, still a bit stunned.

He shifted his weight, glancing down at his feet for a moment. Soon, his eyes found your watch, now flashing between a rainbow and a crescent moon. He knelt down to pick it up, turning it over in his hands as he stared intently at the broken face.

“What happened?”

“Broke it during the duel,” you answered, half of you wishing he would go, the other begging him to stay.

“Mind if I sit?” he asked softly, motioning towards the bench.

You shook your head, lacking the conviction to tell him to leave. You kicked yourself as you scooted over to make room, James sitting down beside you, still gazing on your watch.

You hadn’t been alone with him since he chased you out of Charms on Tuesday. It felt strange to be with him like this, like things were normal. You had been thinking about what Quattlebaum had said all day, despite trying your hardest not to. It had brought you out of your initial rage, leaving you mostly in mourning of what once was. It felt as though too much had been said to ever regain your former friendship, striking you blind as to how you were meant to talk to him or where you ought to look. You knew where you wanted to look, although that was certainly not an option.

“The mending charm won’t work?”

“No, not that I’ve tried,” you said, your head bent towards the grass. “Lily’s going to help me this weekend.”

“Huh.” His eyes darted over to yours, duller than you were used to, though still curious. “Where’d you get it?”

“Mallard and Rosman’s. My dad got it for my fifteenth birthday.”

Mallard and Rosman’s was the premier useless enchanted clothing seller in Diagon Alley. It’s where Sirius had gotten Remus his jumper that changed color based on the leaves. It had been earthy brown since mid-November, soon to turn a pale green.

“I remember when he sent it through the post. I could hear you from across the table,” James said with a small smile. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice you haven’t had it on, you wear it everyday.” He turned away, pointing his wand at it and trying repairo, though nothing changed. “I’m not sure why I thought that would work.”

You nodded, the warmth of him beside you like a bonfire, blazing on your cheeks. You didn’t realize how much you’ve missed him these past few days until now, even if you still held so much against him. But, then there were the cards: go back or move forward.

“Why aren’t you at lunch?” you asked, just to fill the silence.

He shrugged. “Wasn’t hungry.” He rubbed his thumb across the face of your watch, tender as if it was something precious. “I know I owe you an explanation for what happened” he began, his voice low, “but I don’t really have one.”

You glanced at him, taking in only a fraction of his face. “I don’t either.”

“You were right about my ego, but you weren’t about the rest,” he paused, looking out into the courtyard, his eyes running over the window panes. He continued to fiddle with your watch, his other hand coming to run over the straps. “I didn’t mean to make you think I’d be embarrassed over something like that.”

In all honesty, you weren’t either. You couldn’t pinpoint the exact thing he said that made you come to that conclusion, only that it seemed to make too much sense to be wrong. For four days you had tried to make peace with it, though it hadn’t been nearly enough time, the thought still eating away at you.

You tried to figure out what to say, preferably something that wasn’t a lie. “Thanks,” was all you were able to come up with, mumbling it so softly you were unsure if he could even make it out.

“I wish I told you,” he said, leaning forward to look you in the eye.

His mouth was twisted into something akin to distraught, though you pulled your gaze away from it before you could think too much about it.

“If I had a time turner, I’d go back and do it,” he began again. “Actually, if I had one I’d curse him right outside of Transfiguration.”

Your gaze ran along the rims of his glasses, down the bridge of his nose, stopping at his cupid's bow. You noticed that his hair was getting long, curling around his ears. You wished you could reach out and brush it away from his face.

“You sound like Sirius,” you said, a small smile pulling at the corners of your lips.

“He’s been making a lot of sense lately,” he said, matching your half hearted grin. His smile soon dropped, leaving him pensive and remarkably calm. “It’s selfish of me, but I really want to be your friend right now. I know you don’t need my help, but I hate not giving it. It’s the only thing I’ve ever been good at.”

“James—”

“Whatever happened before, I promise it won’t happen again,” he interrupted. “I’ll tell you every—”

“James,” you said again, sterner this time. He finally stopped talking, his eyes searching your face, wide and hopeful like they had been in the corridor outside the common room. “You’re relentless, you know.”

“And cheesy,” he said, smiling again. “I’ve got a few quotes stored up if you want to hear them.”

You looked away, your head drooping forward with a groan. “You’re going to make a great old man one day.”

“My mum says I’ll act like a child forever,” he chuckled. “Maybe it’ll even out at some point.”

You took in his expression, forgetting some of your heartbreak, even if just for a moment. “Fifty’ll be your year.”

James laughed again, though it wasn’t without a tinge of something else, things unsaid. More so than ever before, you longed to know what he was thinking.

“Hey,” he said softly, his humor gone, “are we gonna be all right?”

You heard Remus in the common room, his hand on your shoulder, “Give it a shot, you might be surprised.” Marlene, too, was urging you on, “I wish you could see the way he looks at you.” Then, there were the stars and the cards. The path was not without complication, but it was there, waiting for you to walk down it. It was the brave thing to do, you realized. It was brave to make a choice.

You bit your lip, offering him a small, encouraging smile. “Yeah, we’re all right.”

James threw an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his chest. He held you tightly, wrapping his other arm to cradle you, still holding onto your wristwatch. Slowly, you wound your arms around his middle, allowing yourself the luxury of resting your head on his shoulder while avoiding the temptation of burying your face in the crook of his neck. He smelt like he always did: Sleekeazy’s hair potion, broom polish, and something entirely his own, earthy like moss, yet fresh like linen. It was better than a hundred fields of French lavender, sweeter than the little cakes at Puddifoot’s, warmer than a cup of butterbeer or your corner of the Library. You couldn’t believe how much you’d already forgotten, how much you were willing to give up.

Unthinking, you said exactly how you felt, murmuring into his cloak, “I love you, James.”

As soon as you said it your face began to heat, a jolt of nerves running down your arms. He squeezed you one more time before pulling away, a hand remaining on your shoulder.

“Love you, too,” he said, playfully tugging at you before taking his hand away. “That’s another thing you never have to say.”

“All this time you just assumed I did?” you teased, trying to forget the way your ears felt as if they were on fire.

“No,” he began, his smile bright again, the way you loved, “just for future knowledge.”

“Ah, I see.”

He pushed your shoulder with a laugh, glancing back down at your watch. He handed it back to you, standing up from the bench. “They’ll be able to fix it at Mallard and Rosman’s if Lily can’t figure it out. But if anyone can, it’d be her.”

You nodded, looking up at his face, more serene than you’d seen him in a while. For a split second, nearly short enough to make you question it, you saw something in his eyes. They sparkled like champagne bubbles, a hue of radiant, golden warmth. He was looking at you as if it were some sublime sight, like the mountains at dawn or the colored lights of aurora borealis. But like a shooting star, it was gone just as you caught it, taking your breath away.

“I have Potions,” he began, “but I’ll see you later, all right?”

“All right,” you said, your words caught in your throat. You watched him walk back towards the archway, dazed as if you were in a dream.

“I mean it!” he called, flashing you a smile as he disappeared into the castle.

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Taglist: @floverisland @ilovejamespottersomuch @googie-jeon @tvnile

#james potter x reader #james potter/reader #james potter x you #james potter x fem!reader #james potter fluff #marauders era #james potter fanfiction #james potter angst #harry potter fanfiction #james potter #marauders fandom #hp marauders

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777heavengirl · 3 months ago

Text

goodbye nostalgia

james potter x reader one-shot ! warnings: bittersweet? full of happy-sad, comfort? established relationship… actually kind of fluffy word count: 5,031 masterlist

a/n: ive been so so nostalgic and feeling bittersweet so this is what i threw up... enjoy! LMAO

It was so hot you felt the waves of rays from the sun on your skin like you were hovering your hand over a hot stove. Your skin dripped and your sunglasses were no longer enough to keep the glare away from your eyes. You stayed very still, listening, to the bugs in the bushes, the whisper of the breeze, James's laughter inside, and Remus talking more avidly than he usually did, you could hear Sirius burst into a roar of laughter. If you really focused, you could hear the vague hum of Fleamont's radio, the reports of a quidditch game buzzing through. You could hear the blades of grass shift and fold underneath the pink towel you had laid underneath your body when you breathed or moved. You could feel the beads of sweat start traveling down your body, but you didn't move. You didn't dare to, who were you to disturb such a moment? A moment of everything. When your boys laughed, and the cicadas buzzed and Mr Potter's team was winning.

"D'you fancy a bit of mango honey? Bought them at the muggle market yesterday, they said they were imported!" Mrs Potter, Euphemia, approached you, a small porcelain bowl in her hand, orange-yellow chunks sitting inside. They glistened under the sun, and you couldn't help but feel like the mango. Skin wet, juice dripping, the glare of the sun making both you and the mango sweat.

"I would love some, thank you, Mrs Potter," She smiled at you, and you sat up, carefully cupping the bowl with both hands.

"Anytime, be careful with the sun-" She winked as she trogged back inside. Euphemia Potter was the poster child for the perfect mother. She was warm and inviting, her laughter often bounced off the walls and the glint in her eyes told you that she was probably just as bad as James when she was young. She was still just as bad now. She was stern and rightfully so, as who could reel James and Sirius back in but Euphemia, barely a word from her lips, and the two boys would stand in front of her like soldiers. The boys loved her, and her warm nature made her easy to love and need. All of your friends ached to be in her presence. And you suspected she was the reason James was so magnetic as well.

"Whatcha doing out here all alone hm?" James's voice rang through the air, the hum of the cicadas falling secondary to his words. He crouched next to you, his fingers snatching a square of mango. He hummed in satisfaction as he savored the sweet, a drop of juice dripping from the fat of his lip. You wiped it wordlessly, the touch of his lips on your finger making your fingertips tingle. "We're going on a ride if you wanna come,"

"Where?"

"Just the muggle village close by, Sirius is fascinated by the car Remus got" You contemplated it as he grabbed another chunk, this time pressing it against your lips until you opened, welcoming in the cloying taste. You nodded shortly after, a small brilliant! spilling from his lips as he got up, and extended his hands out to hoist you up as well. You pulled your shorts back on, and James pouted at the disappearance of your bathing suit bottoms, but it quickly turned into a crooked smile as you pulled one of his old muggle band tees over your frame. It was old, the logo of The Kinks was soft and faded. If you ran the pads of your fingers over it, you could feel the cracks in the paint. The top of it had been stretched out and cut off impulsively, it exposed your shoulders just enough for James to press kisses onto the skin there in delight. It was smaller, that's why you had kept it, he didn't fit in it anymore much to his dismay. It was from a time when he wasn't toned by quidditch and hadn't stretched to 182 centimeters. It felt like years away, he intertwined his hands with yours as you slipped on your sandals and walked to the front of the house.

You realized it truly hadn't been that long ago.

The car Remus got was an old blue Volkswagen Beatle, one that barely fit his lanky figure, much less the other two tall idiots he was friends with. But you found a way to fit in regardless. He "bought" it from the old muggle couple that lived next to his childhood home, they wanted to give it to him for free, we've been close your whole life Remus, please take it as a present. He refused, ever the humble man, but they agreed on a nice dinner instead.

As repayment for the car, for his childhood, for their memories.

It felt bittersweet to stuff yourself in the back of the car with James. You wondered if the couple had ever done the same, stuff their closest friends onto the faded black seats, windows down to let the summer air roll in, drive with music blasting and barking fits of laughter. You wondered if they ever held hands as desperately as James clutched to yours, as longingly as you held his. The thought of you and James, all old and wrinkled but certainly not faded, flashed in your mind.

Did the old couple ever drive this far? Close to the coast and the ocean, enough to smell the salt of the sea, with sweat rolling down the skin, nevertheless a smile plastered on everyone's faces. You pondered on their life, of a couple you had met only once, in the fleeting exchange of Remus getting the car keys from them. You drove to the Potter's beach cottage with him that night, the better half of your group waiting for you there.

You and Remus exchanged knowing glances as the two pureblood boys stared in awe at everything, dragging you into a grocery store in front of where Remus parked the small blue car. The low fluorescent lights gave James’s skin a pale edge, the sunlight outside kept at bay by the door. His high cheekbones and strong nose had blue-tinged highlights. Especially as he dragged you to the back, venturing through the refrigerated section exclaiming at the variety of ice creams in pints and sticks. He looked straight out of the muggle art films Lily was so fond of watching, you wondered how her vacation in Ireland was going.

“D’you want an ice lolly?” James held two in front of you, a bright red one and a blue one. He hummed in agreement as you grabbed the red one and he smiled at his blue one happily. he didn’t hesitate in opening it, licking it like a child as he continued to drag you around eventually falling into step with Sirius who had been passionately explaining to Remus how he just had to find the muggle strawberry marmalade cookies Evans’ parents gave us when we visited. Remus helped him scan the shelves.

You observed them. The way James approached and offered Remus and Sirius a taste of his blue ice cream the latter trying it curiously. Sirius’s face soured at the blue raspberry taste exclaiming how it tasted like the inside of a cauldron. There were no boundaries or lines to be crossed, for them, everything was shared and treasured. There were no secrets amongst brothers, no borders nor humiliations.

“Oh so that’s what it is-“ James looked at it curiously, evidently having felt the same. He continued to lick it regardless and Sirius let out a ‘fuck yea’ as Remus handed him the pack of marmalade cookies he’d been hunting for. The marauders were endlessly entertaining to observe. You reckon you had never seen love and friendship in its purest form until you met them.

James, ever the caring one, fussed and worried over his friends in a way you’ve never seen any boy— or anyone for that matter— do, it reminded you of his mother. The fussing and the insistent questions of Did you eat? did you sleep well? Are you feeling poorly? at any turn of mood was like hearing Euphemia herself. Not that you’d ever tell him how alike he was to his mother.

You loved watching the boys, the way James threw his arms over both of them, even crooked from Remus's stature. Under muscle and hard bone, your soft heart squeezed in something akin to nostalgia. It made you ache and yearn. You thought you could listen to the laughs that bounced from them, in between them, forever. You laughed as Remus scrunched his nose at James's ice cream as the lot of you paid, the cashier looked around your age, bored out of her mind with her summer job.

"Come ooon Moony just try it-"

"Prongs I hate blue raspberry please-" James pouted, and Remus rolled his eyes, taking a small tentative nibble of the ice. He scrunched up his face again and shook his head. "Yup still tastes like chemicals, don't know why you like it- yer a freak"

James resorted to bickering about it, trying to get Sirius to rally behind him. The long-haired boy paid him no mind as he tried opening the red plastic cylinder of cookies. Remus fell into the bickering with James, both with a smirk pulling at the corners of their lips.

They were just boys after all.

"D'you want one?" Sirius turned the package towards you, eyeing your red ice treat in return. You nodded, offering your ice cream to him as you wiggled a marmalade cookie from out of the package. He hummed in satisfaction at the sweeter tone of your ice lolly,

"I reckon your girlfriend's got you beat Prongs, hers is better-"

"Nuh-uh!" He reached over and grabbed yours, pressing it against his lips as he nibbled a bit of it. "Oh-"

The three boys exploded in bickering, your ice dessert eventually falling back into your hands. You never minded, the fact that in the closeness to them, your limits were also blurred. It was comforting and intimate and familiar in ways you had never suspected. You had never had friendships like this, not ones that ended well anyway. They seemed to handle it well, the intimacy between them. The long limbs scrambled together, the way you knew that they secretly held hands sometimes, in reassurance, in strength. Even if for the other two, there were sparks of something more, they never failed to be the same with James. You had been in James' arms more than once, at a party, on the couch, in his dorm, with either Sirius or Remus pressed against the other side. Sometimes the both of them. Sometimes their hands connected, sometimes just the touch of their backs against each other, of knees touching, was enough.

The first time truly witnessing their closeness it was confusing. Their tendency to sleep on the same bed, still in uniform, and a mess of sheets and half of their bodies peeking and pouring out from the bed, made sure that the surprise and confusion eventually fell away. Who could judge when they have never looked so peaceful? Innocent even— Smirks of mischief gone, walls of strength and laughter down.

They really were just boys.

You continued exploring the muggle town, walking around aimlessly as James held your hand. His hands were soft, despite the quidditch-made ridge of callouses on the edge of his hands where his fingers met the palm. They felt awfully warm, but James tended to run on the hotter side. Both he and Sirius did, Remus and you were the cold-skinned ones. James often cupped your hands into his and blew hot air into them. There was no need for such things now, the sun blared down on the four of you mercilessly yet- more forgiving than earlier. As it began to sink in the sky, James's brown skin took on golden tones. He always did look good sunbathed. After watching him many times, you were convinced the sun was made to make James glow, his skin absorbing the radiance with ease.

"Did you hear me?" James's lips repressed a smile, having caught you daydreaming, you shook your head in honesty "I asked if you wanted to take a stroll around the beach," you saw now, the entrance of the beach no less than three meters in front of you. You nodded wordlessly, being pulled by his hand into a sprint. His already unruly hair was even more windswept, a mess of curls and breeze. Sirius ran not far in front of you and James, his long black hair equally as wild, laughter pouring from deep within him, from his lungs, as he pulled at James's other hand. Remus did a light jog behind you, to pretend he was 'catching up'. He'd eventually get there, his laughter also reaching your ears. You couldn't help it, you really could not. Your lips seemed to have a mind of their own as they broke into a smile, laughter soon dribbling out as well. It was compulsive truly, completely out of your hands, they all had something magnetic that twisted your tummy into laughter, pure joy, and release pouring from your soul. You thought this was why they had become so popular, they were so inviting. The boys, all three of them, acted like youth had been created just for them— like they could eat the world raw.

It was hard not to get caught up in it. They were exhilarating and adrenaline-inducing. You settled on the fact that being with them— with James— felt like fireworks were exploding right next to you, booming and echoing in your chest, lighting up your eyes.

Sirius and James ended up wrestling in the sand, and you let go of James's hand to avoid falling, content with watching them. The sand wasn't wet but it was starting to get cold and you could hear Remus burst into laughter as he jogged towards you, his cheeky, you realized, chuckles reverberating as he knocked the two of you down next to the two undisciplined boys. James screeched in laughter, as he crawled towards you, dropping his head on your tummy seemingly exhausted.

"I reckon I've won" Sirius sauntered over, tripping over his feet and letting himself fall on top of Remus, one of his legs thrown over you somehow.

"Nuh uh-"

"You ran away first Prongs-" They squabbled about it like they were five, brotherly bites at each other. Remus let out a breathy laugh whispering to you;

"I think you guys might have to drag me back to the car-" you knew he meant it, not being able to imagine the sort of aches and joint pain he was feeling from the light jog alone, much less throwing the both of you down to the sand, but nevertheless you both exploded into a fit of giggles, the thought of carrying his lanky figure across town prompting your laugh.

"Oi whats so funny there?" Sirius pressed a finger against your side eliciting more giggles from you as you squirmed away trying to push James off as he also started digging his fingers on your sides.

”Please stop oh my god- please please-“ your giggles left you gasping for air and you felt some relief as Remus pushed Sirius off. The dark-haired boy kneeled next to Remus, trying to catch his breath.

”You’re so paying for that Moony-“ he threw himself on top of the sandy-haired boy and they began to roll around in the sand, wrestling with bubbling fits of laughter as both tried to overpower the other.

”We should get going— mum's gonna have my head” you hummed in agreement, noting how dark it’s gotten. You didn't think of the sand in your hair or the grains that stuck to your skin, the one you'd inevitably be shaking out of everything you owned for the next three weeks. You couldn't think of it when James was now face to face with you. You couldn't help but press a kiss to his cheek, and then his lips, and then the other cheek.

"This wasn't much of a stroll-" your words were soft and slightly teasing, a small pull at the corner of your lip making his smirk grow. He pressed a kiss to your cheek, soft and damp in the way he knew made you laugh and wipe your cheek. You didn't this time, he did it again for good measure.

”I promise I’ll take you on a disgustingly romantic stroll tomorrow yeah?” you hummed in agreement again, and he shot you a dimpled smile. “Oi idiots! let’s go,”

Sirius groaned in disagreement, trying to contain his laugh as Remus pinched his side and threw him off. They both got up, shaky and still laughing at each other. Remus clutched at Sirius’s shoulder for support.

”Moony I hate to say it but maybe you ought to get some sort of… cane” James hurried to throw Remus’s arm over his shoulders and the taller boy scowled, like a kid who was getting scolded by his mother. They vaguely tried to dust themselves off.

”Prongs I do not need a cane, I’m not 80-“

“Might be good for you Moons,” Sirius chewed at the last remaining cookie, the package having been shoved in the inside of his jacket. There was a surprising lack of sand but it was crushed, nevertheless, he picked up the pieces gingerly. "Just think on it yeah?" He said it casually like Remus had to pick between ice cream flavors, and you could see the sting in Remus's eyes. You knew Sirius did not say it in an uncaring way, quite the opposite. Madame Pompfrey had said it more than once, and every time Remus shook his head and walked through the pain.

The four of you made your way back in silence, Remus eventually disentangling himself from James and walking unsteadily to the car.

"D'you want me to drive Rem?" Your words were low and close to him so the other two wouldn't hear. He shook his head, shooting you a small smile.

"Come on Moony, let’s ride" Remus couldn’t help but smile as Sirius opened the driver's door with a bow, a goofy smile also playing on his lips. The tension dissipated quickly, it left as quickly as it came, Remus got in the car and James opened the door for you as well.

You started cruising again, down the road, this time the lowered windows let in the cool night air and Sirius stuck his torso out, eventually deciding on sitting on the window, the only thing keeping him tethered to the car being his legs inside and the hand on the roof that helped balance him. James followed soon after, his foot tapping your thigh as he laughed with Sirius. Their screams made you and Remus laugh too,

”What are you waiting for?”

Remus’s deep brown eyes looked at yours through the review mirror and you felt your breath caught in your throat. You felt your fingers shake as you nodded and maneuvered your way out the window, the speed working against you. Sirius cheered as you sat on the edge of the window, a nervous laughter bubbling out of you, the wind sweeping past your face making the tip of your nose and the apples of your cheeks feel chilly. Sirius’s hair flew wildly as he played fast and loose when he let go of the car shooting his arms up, but he didn’t fall, his chest echoed with laughter.

James extended his hand, still sticking on the roof, towards yours, and bravely so did you. His fingers came to a stop right above your knuckles, Remus pushed the car to its limit. The air was more than just cold now, it bit at your cheeks and made your eyes water— but you couldn’t find it within yourself to even mind. It was exhilarating and blood pumping, your heart was about ready to leap out of your chest as the boys let out roars of laughter.

Soon enough you’d turn into the street where the Potter’s cottage resided in. The small, hidden stretch of street for the magical folks. Remus slowed to a stop expertly, and the grip of James and your other hand gripping the inside of the car helped you avoid the recoil of the stop. Sirius wasn’t so lucky, as he laid his whole upper body— or as much of it as he could— against the car. A terrified grin on his face. At least he didn't fall out.

You all climbed out, mindless chatter between them about what to eat or what to do. But as your heart began to slow down again, and the excitement seeped out of your body, you were left alone with your feelings once again. The moment passed and left you empty like your chest cavity had been hollowed out, scooped out by sentimentality. It made you angry, the way that your eyes felt hot with tears They had no use, truly they did not, they were tears spilled in vain. Nothing was wrong, your boyfriend loved you, you had amazing friends, and you had an amazing day, a thrilling ride home. What could possibly be nagging at your heart?

"Are you going to finally tell me what's been up with you today?" James whispered into your ear, from behind you. You had stayed by the door, shooing them in so they wouldn't notice. But James knew. He always knows. He rested his head on your shoulder, looking at the grassy fields in front of you. "Don't you dare say nothing because I know that look on your face love, besides you've been uncharacteristically quiet this fine evening" There was still a tinge of joke in his tone, an edge that he never really seemed to shake off even when he meant to be serious.

"It's stupid James, I'm okay I promise" You pressed a small kiss against his temple and went around him to go inside, making a beeline for the kitchen. You hoped it'd be empty, so you could sit and marinate in your thoughts for longer. You could hear James's parents chatting upstairs, their voices traveling through the wooden floors, you could feel the breeze coming in through the patio doors and the boys' echoing laughter, bickering, and the avid conversation that was so characteristically them.

"I hope you didn't believe I'd let you get away with that-" he tsked "shoddy performance love-" James pressed a kiss against your cheek as he came close to you again. You hoped you'd push him off until later, but alas James was a pressing man.

"Really? I've been told I'm quite an actress-" you tried joking, but the smirk on your lips didn't reach your eyes, and James knew— only from the absence of the singular dimple on the side of your face— that it was false. He took your hand in his, his expression turning somber,

"I need you to tell me, you've been in the clouds all day-" you sighed as he played with your fingers, his lips pressing a kiss to the tips. You gave in, but for James you always did. You could never tell him no. "I promise I won't tease"

"Do you ever have like, flashes of memories and glimpses in your mind of all these beautiful things? like a montage kind of, just of…you know, beauty that- moves you and love that’s shared"

"A montage?" James' lips curled into a smile, "like a vision? of something you've lived before?"

"No… well ye- no- just everything, even of the moment you’re in... like it'll slip from your fingers and you're missing and aching for it before it's even over" You tried to articulate the feeling, the one that had been slowly eating at your heart. The feeling that makes you cry senselessly and haunts your dreams.

James seemed to think about it, regardless of how frustrated you felt with your own words, he seemed to understand. He mouled it over, and you could almost see the gears turn behind his eyes. For a second you thought you caught a glance of something, something sad and blue and tender—

"Yeah, I know," he bit his lip briefly, from the inside, a nervous habit he had picked up. "it's like you're nostalgic before it's even..."

"over" "over"

You played with his fingers now, pulling and massaging each one. He let you without refute as he went quiet again, deep in thought.

"I feel it when I look at my friends, at you, I think about if it'll last forever—" He looked straight out the window, into the pitch-dark sky, a sad tightening around his mouth "I reckon it is a matter of knowing, of treasuring it, the moment, or whatever 'it' is for you, and tucking it neatly inside your heart... I reckon the only way to deal with it is to force yourself to enjoy the moment"

He looked at you now, his brown eyes stared deep into your own, unwavering. James the ever-cocky one, always brave and always caring, so loud and rambunctious you'd think fireworks exploded in his veins, suddenly seemed so small, and raw. You didn't think he had such feelings, of course, he got down sometimes, but this? This existential mess that rotted and churched inside your heart until you were quiet and blue? No, James Potter could not possibly possess such feelings. He looked at you with tenderness, but the longing that lay under it shoved neatly and discretely in some dark corner of his soul, was new. And something you never expected him to feel.

"There's no need for nostalgia love," he grabbed your hands tightly in his "The time is now.” He said it with determination like it had been something he had arrived at. A conclusion to calm the ache in his chest and reassure himself that there was no need to live in the past, nor sad about something that had not yet passed.

He pressed a quick peck to your lips. But you pulled him closer, soft and yearning. It was delicate yet filled to the brim with love and you hoped he couldn't feel the tears that stained your cheeks, but you knew he did. James Potter knew everything.

“don't cry lovely” He pressed another kiss to your lips and tucked you into his arms for a hug.

You shook yourself off soon after, moving away from the kitchen counters. You took his hand now, along with a quick kiss to his lips, and for the first time today, you took the lead. You dragged him outside with his friends. The fire crackled and burned and the boys sat on Euphemia's wicker garden chairs, the cushions that usually decorated the space thrown about, Remus hoarding about four in his chair no doubt trying to calm the ache in his bones. Sirius was halfway through convincing Remus to try the strange cider concoction he had made the previous day, no doubt an alcoholic bomb. They both laughed as Remus continued to refuse the glass Sirius kept pushing in his hands.

"I'll try it Pads-" You extended your hand and Sirius smiled wolfishly, at the nickname, and your initiative. He handed you the overfilled glass, the drops of the cold liquid spilling over your hand as you rushed to grab it and take a swing. The bitter taste hit your throat harshly the tangy-sweet flavor of the actual cider washing over your tongue as the gulp of liquid made its way down. It was like a punch to the face, but you couldn't help the shrieks of laughter that poured from you.

"Godric's balls-" Sirius let out a roar of laughter, taking the glass back from your trembling hands as you coughed. "Sirius Black you're a sick man- who would drink that" he took a shameless sip.

"That's the most you've spoken today doll I reckon it did its job-" he winked as your face turned hot, and laughter started to spill from both your lips as James grabbed the cup.

"It can't be that bad-" he took a reckless swing, not expecting much- before spitting it out on the grass with a couch, "Padfoot you're going to hell for that atrocity" he gasped out as he handed Remus the cup. The sandy-haired boy glared at James mercilessly but accepted it, because if you can't beat them join them right?

Remus managed to gulp down more than James had even attempted, "Christ padfoot, seriously this is sick" and was next to succumb to the stomach-aching laughter, clutching his stomach as his features grew red with laughter. He put the glass down in the middle as the four of you continued to laugh. You teased James for spitting it out and Sirius for making it in the first place, James's arm around your shoulders, both of you shaking and clutching to each other trying to breathe from the laughter that impeded it. Remus slapped Sirius upside the head, but the dark-haired boy couldn't manage to retaliate, wiping tears from his eyes, his lungs wheezing.

You hoped it would always be this way, watching the three of them clutch at each other as they laughed, like brothers, like more than that. you dreamt of being in your forties still laughing this way, with nothing but joy in your cheeks and fireworks in your chest. still in the same beach house for the holiday, maybe married, maybe with children with their reckless but faithful friends of their own.

Maybe it would always be this way.

You decided you’d focus on being 20, as you blinked joyful tears back. You’d focus on their thunderous laughs and their wicked winks. The triplet smirks and the way James pressed you close to your chest as you all laughed until your tummies hurt. You decided you were content now, at twenty. Yes, you were happy.

There was no need for nostalgia, the time is now.

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