its-jamespotter

[its-jamespotter]

location: Peter's shop closed: @ptpeter

James could hardly believe it. Mary and Peter. When Mary first told him, he couldn't believe it. There was no way that the two actually had a snog. There was only one way to confirm the rumor that Macdonald shared. The ding above the door rang as James stepped into Peter's work. "Well, well, well," James said smugly, the news barely concealed through a thinly veiled grin. "Don't look at me like you don't know what I'm talking about. I'm only slightly offended you didn't ask me for, you know, dating advice."

[its-jamespotter]

Her strangled cry, the frantic edge in her voice—it made his blood run colder than the damn night. The terrifying thought of losing her made his stomach clench against broken ribs, a specific hell he never wanted to witness. James's hands reached blindly, crawling until a sickening crack echoed beneath his knee. He slowly retreated, his fingers finding the source: his now-shattered glasses. "Shit, my fucking glasses" he groaned, no working wand to even attempt a Reparo. He shoved the broken frames onto his face, seeing only cracked visions of a dark, ruined room. Great.

"Wand," he rasped, the word a pathetic plea choked by the black. "Yeah, got one. Somewhere." He fumbled, hand sweeping across jagged edges, finding only cold dust. His fingers brushed against something hard and smooth—a wand. Not his, but a wand. A potent surge of relief flared through him. "Got one," he grunted, grasping it. "Just... not mine." He wished he'd paid more attention to Pomfrey, or frankly, any of his classes. How the hell did someone heal themselves with a borrowed wand? He forced himself upright, groaning with every agonizing shift, propping himself against a splintered piece of furniture that had clearly joined their unplanned descent. "Alright, keep talking, Marls." It would help him pinpoint her, but more importantly, keep her focused, alert.

It was too quiet. The kind of quiet that makes you believe in death. Her body was screaming, the pain a roaring flame that drowned out everything else-- until his voice broke through. Relief hit her like an antidote. Her lungs finally remembered how to breathe. "Jamie," she gasped, louder than she meant to. Her voice cracked with too many things: fear, pain, disbelief. She turned her head slightly, but the blackness was absolute. It was as though her eyes were sewn shut. "Do you-- do you have your wand? Can you see anything? Can you get me out?" She hated how fast the words came, all in one panicked breath. She tried again, slower, more level. “Are you hurt?”

Marlene tried to move. Just once. A simple shift, a tilt, a flex of her left leg. The pain was immediate and vicious-- blinding, drowning, like someone had driven a hot poker straight through her knee. She screamed. Short, sharp, helpless. "Fuck, f--uck!" the witch hissed through gritted teeth, tears springing to her eyes. It felt like her whole leg was breaking again and again with each breath. Her fingers clawed at the ground, at stone and splinters and whatever else cushioned the fall. Nothing gave her grounding. Her wand was gone, her knee was shattered, and the cold was everywhere. Her chest rose and fell too fast. The darkness was thick. Her heart wouldn’t stop racing. The panic edged at her again. “Tell me you’ve got your wand, Potter,” she said, a little sharper. “Tell me you’ve got something, because I’m about ten seconds from screaming just to hear something that isn’t my own bloody heartbeat.”

Her voice softened through the fear, her breath hitched as she spoke in barely a whisper, pushig through the pain. “I heard you fall. Thought you were--” She couldn’t say the word. Not in the dark. A pause and a deep breath before letting out a low chuckle. “Don’t ever do that again, yeah?”

[its-jamespotter]

END.

"It's a good thing if you've got big ears and a big nose, evens everything else out," he said, nodding as if it were a universal truth, leaning back against the cool kitchen counter. "Evens everything else out." James shrugged. The Selwyns, Alara included, were just another pureblood family who hadn't quite mastered the art of not getting their way. It was decent of Sirius to offer his place, but James decided not to prod. "I'd stay clear of Rosier, period. Maybe she's got good morals after all. Left the family, left Rosier… hell, if she leaves Sirius too, that's three in a row. I'd shake her hand."

His eyes practically shone like stars, a mischievous glint catching the light, and his mouth stretched into a wide, disbelieving grin. It wasn't every day Peter volunteered details about his life, let alone his dating life. "Oh, go on, do tell. Who is this other someone? Is it anyone I know? When's the date?" The questions tumbled out in a flurry. "Yes, us three, that's right," he said, raising his brows, a silent acknowledgment of how strange yet utterly real it sounded. Every holiday, they'd be making memories with their baby, and a swell of pure, unadulterated happiness sparked inside him. "Of course, you're coming for the holidays, don't be ridiculous. You make the best stuff after all. Or at least your mum does."

[its-jamespotter]

James would take fighting over which sections of the newspaper to share over their morning tea in their new house over anything else in that moment. When he thought of his future, this moment was all he wanted. He was so grateful to share it with Lily, the only person he would even consider being in his future. The small wrestle for the paper caused the table to shake against them. James groaned as he looked down to see a spot of tea splash onto his alumni shirt. "Oh, now you've done it, Evans," he mutters as he takes his wand to get it out, frowning down at the stain. His head snaps up at her comment. "Are not," he argues, standing up. James looked down at her challengingly before softening, kissing the top of her head. "Can I get you anything while I'm up? More toast? Tea?" He asked, already walking with barefeet on the tile over to their small kitchenette. James stood over the kettle, heating it up again. "You know, I was thinking it might be good to get a cat or something. For the baby. And for us, of course."

𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬    𝐚    𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐡    𝐡𝐮𝐟𝐟    𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭    passes    her    lips    as    the    newspaper    is    pulled    just    out    of    reach    ,    and    the    new    pains    and    stretches    of    her    body    have    it    protesting    before    she    can    even    think    to    lurch    forward    and    grab    it    .    but    he    settles    fast    ,    the    paper    falling    into    her    grasp    .    “    you    are    lucky    i    love    you    so    ,    james    potter    .    ”    she    mutters    ,    cold    ,    bare    toes    nudging    his    leg    softly    as    a    gentleness    passes    over    her    .    they    looked    nothing    more    than    a    picture    of    domestic    bliss    ,    and    it    warmed    her    to    her    very    core    that    this    was    where    she    ended    up    .    with    him    .    “    you’re    just    sad    cause    i’m    smarter    and    more    strategic    then    you    .    ”    she    taunts    ,    but    truly    ,    despite    to    odds    she’d    looked    at    ,    at    the    time    ,    it    was    just    a    lucky    guess    .

[its-jamespotter]

Fear wasn't a whisper at the back of his neck anymore. It was a sledgehammer to the gut as he made for the door. "Marls!" The name ripped from his throat, frantic as he wanted to reassure himself that she was there. A second of terrified reunion was met, and then the world groaned beneath them, the sound of ancient wood splintering itself in half. One second, he was fleeing a creature from his nightmares. The next, he was falling into an inky blackness of what used to be a very solid living room. His arms went wild, desperate, grasping for purchase that wasn't there. Nothing but cold, empty air. This is it, a frantic voice whispered in his head, flashing through faces—Lily, friends, family—a whole highlight reel of his life in the space of a heartbeat. Then, impact. A sickening crunch against his side. His arm, definitely. He knew it before the pain fully registered, a cold, clinical assessment that felt miles away from the panic. Too nervous to even twitch, he lay still, listening to the ringing in his ears.

He tried to speak, but only a pathetic wheeze escaped. Then, a sound. Marlene. Relief, potent as a shot of firewhisky shared between them, moved him. At least they were together. "Present," he managed, a ragged moan coughing against rubble and debris. "You alright there, McKinnon?" His hands automatically went to his ribs, a silent, grim tally of potential fractures, before he pushed, painfully, onto his hands and knees. The darkness was absolute, thick and cold, pressing in from all sides. He had never felt more confused. Made infinitely worse by the sudden, terrifying absence of his glasses. And his wand. His wand. A frantic patting around him, desperately scrambling in the dark. "Accio wand," he tried in a hopeful whisper. Nothing. A beat. Then, a symphony of multiple wands were all summoned with enthusiasm, pelted him from various directions, sending him stumbling back again. "Bloody fucking hell," he muttered, rubbing his head. "Where the hell are we?"

Nothing was going as expected, but the fact was they really had no idea what they were going into beforehand, the mission barely even a thing until this very moment. A corpse, which ultimately wasn't the big deal, and a magical creature no one wanted to run into growing in size beneath their eyes. There was no time to react properly, the witch turning to look at James just as he started running away from the occamy, her feet following quickly afterwards. "Blimey, we need to get out, now!" Marlene screamed, stressing the last word as she trotted off down the hall, fingers tightening around her wand. They were forced to a halt only a couple of steps away, cracks forming underneath their feet, barely a split second to understand what was happening before it all came crumbling down. The floor disappearing altogether, the witch fell down a hole, no time to hold onto anything, wand lost in the fall and the weight of her body crashing her leg with a sharp pang of pain. She couldn't even catch her air yet, watching the enormous creature fly over her head and disappear, silence overcoming. "James?" The blonde murmured with desperation, worry taking over as she couldn't see much in the darkness and couldn't feel him anywhere near.

[its-jamespotter]

James was already wishing to whatever higher being was there with him in the cafe that Evan Rosier would ignore the conversation and simply walk away. Once Rosier got comfortable and shared the respite, James felt himself roll his eyes and was thankful it was done so discreetly behind the papers. "Oh, that is a delight to hear that you win at everything. Do tell me how to be just like you," he answered with a wooden smile to match his casual sarcasm. "I don't know that, Rosier. It seems like you've finally lost something — your confidence in others' ability to heighten your ego. Since you are such a betting man, what are the odds of you finding someone else to torture with small talk?"

The coffee bar in the front of his shop was a good cover up, even as most were aware of what was happening in the back, they still liked to pretend they were there for a good cup. Evan rarely interacted with people sitting there unless he was going in or out and allowed a quick good day to all. This time however, he was interested in one of the wizards sitting on a side, an amused grin lacing his lips as he approached him. "No need to share the news, when it comes to betting I know my odds well enough, no need to check if I win." A chuckle, taking the seat in front of the other man's. "I always win, but you do know that, Potter. I didn't know you placed bets at my shop."

[its-jamespotter]

James grinned over the corner of the newspaper just in time to see her reaching over and being the manchild he was, he leaned his newspaper out of reach. He had always romanticized mornings like this; sitting across from his wife with paper and tea sitting on the table in between them. "Okay, fine, here," he said, not wanting to wrestle with Lily Evans, especially when she had her mind on something and he was the target. "I aleady owe you back for the Puddlemere loss, but I still argue that the Harpies were robbed."

𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐰   𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐤𝐬   𝐮𝐩𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬   𝐚𝐬   𝐬𝐡𝐞   𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬   into   the   seat   across   from   her   husband   .   “   james   potter   ,   that   had   better   have   been   a   joke   .   ”   she   huffs   ,   hand   outstretched   towards   him   expecting   the   news   section   of   the   prophet   .   perhaps   slightly   more   agitated   as   the   pregnancy   went   on   ,   she   had   opted   out   of   attending   the   purebloods   wedding   in   favour   of   her   own   sanity   and   not   being   pureblood   herself   .   

[its-jamespotter]

James hummed in agreement, sensing a political debate was stirring between them and his lips twitched with eagerness. His new job had taught him more things than he could've bargained to learn and it wasn't just the emotional and physical bandwidth he was enduring. The complexities of the war and the sides that people were taking. "I do agree with you on the human inclination towards the spectacularly bad decisions – honestly, have you met most people? – but after a while, you start to spot the common threads. Not just in grand historical moments, but in everyday arguments, in the way people decide who's right and who's wrong. It's less about history repeating and more about people being consistently, well, people. I was reading a case the other week about how someone accidentally transfigured himself into a teapot rather than make himself feel warmer. Twice. Don't know how the sodding idiot did it to himself twice, but some lessons are learned and then there are people who are too self-induldged...Right, thank you. I'll have to come around for more recommendations."

Amelia took a brief moment to think about James' question before she answered. "As much as I would love to believe that it was a good thing, having a predictable outcome is a bit optimistic in most cases. From my experience, history tends to repeat the mistakes with far more enthusiasm than the triumphs. But I suppose it depends on the thing that is repeating." She paused, tracing her fingers across the spines of several of the books on the shelves ahead of them, before plucking one from it's place. "I don't think your situation here today has anything to do with history, and more that they're just not very good at giving customer service." She chuckled, shaking her head before she held out the book she had just selected towards him. "You're not asking too much at all, I'm down there several times a week so feel free to drop in past my office when you get a chance and I can let you in. In the meantime, I would suggest this book. It's a little less heavy so will ease you in to the one you've picked up."

[its-jamespotter]

James smirked knowing that some things never changed and he wasn't even thinking about Charity being single but her sharp humor that could riddle his own. It was good to run into old friends in an old place, wondering if things ever really did change. "See, that's what all those traditions get wrong. We have evolved well past what arranged marriages are for. There's hardly a good trade anymore. Before, couples were arranged to be wed for some ulterior motive. Now? They just do it because their parents said so. If I weren't with Lils and had worse parents, I could be married to a woman who has a quirky obsession with water fountains, and I'd be forced to say, 'Yes, my darling, that is a wet one. Good job.'" James decided it was better to not argue with Charity and instead stole a piece of chocolate from the aisle. If he were to be kicked out or yelled at, there was at least experience still living in him to take it. "We've slept with each other more than once, isn't that amazing? It's better than great news, I don't know why the Prophet isn't running it on the front page every week."

"Oh don't ever let me get boring or married." The witch pleaded exaggeratedly before cracking a smile. "That's the one reason I don't want to get married for, asides from the fact it's essentially being forced to be with someone in my case." Charity explained with a roll of her eyes, she did not see herself standing by the tradition even if it cost her greatly. "Those are the best, aren't they? I'll have a package delivered to your house, my treat." She offered with a quick and mischievous nod. "Kids are awful, but they certainly make my job more fun." Brows furrowed as James' shared where he was at, surprise clear on her features at the mention of his own child, prompting a soundly chuckle from her. "Did Evans finally sleep with you?" She teased him, nudging him on the arm. "Well, that's great news. You look excited and that's what matters."

[its-jamespotter]

"Oh, please put in a good word while you're at it. I think she's a bit crossed at me at the moment," James said and it wasn't too far from the truth. He waited to tell his mother about him and Lily expecting a few weeks after. It was something a mother couldn't forgive, but hopefully something in her could forget. James hid a small smile as Molly admitted that her boys knew the book too well, but he wondered if his child would take to it so obsessively. It was the best book full of folktales, and some urban legends. James couldn't wait to do a long list with his future child and he couldn't wait for it to start right now. "It's great, you'll love it. It's about chivalry, romance, sanity, and horses."

"I'll make sure to thank her," Molly winked.

It was plain to see that James felt some sort of pride within himself to be doing something extra for work. As much as Molly remembered he wasn't all too keen on it in school. It was refreshing to see him turning over a new leaf. Maybe this would be something to jump start an even bigger career than simply Auror. Not that being an Auror was easy or anything to be scoffed at -- quite the opposite. However, he could be in higher ranks within the bunch if he had a better understanding of what he was doing and how to do it. She hoped the best for him. For everyone, really, but in this moment it was focused on James. "Yes. Better late than never," she nodded.

"Oh, the children know The Tales of Beedle the Bard like the back of their little hands. But I have enough for them in this big stack. I was looking for something a little more 'mom speed.' Don Quixote? What's that about then?"

[its-jamespotter]

During Order missions, it was his only priority and focus besides getting out safe. There seemed to be a flux of the missions as of late and James didn't have to guess why. Death Eaters were getting more bold and he was grateful to be in the Order who seemed in mutual agreement to do whatever they could to stop it. "Yes sir," he nodded at Edgar. He was also thankful to share the night with Edgar who not only was someone he trusted but also seemed in a good mood which set James' own. "Of course, sir. What's the briefing?"

" --- Ah, James ! Good, you're with me for tonight's task. "Always careful with his words, always careful with his actions. Steady hand clasped the younger man on the shoulder. "Let's get this done nice && safe, alright ?" Edgar approached his order missions, like he approached everything else. Steay, && calm --- SERIOUS. Maybe he was too serious.

@its-jamespotter

[its-jamespotter]

Of course, it was Carrow who happened to slide into the spot across from him. James folded the top corner of the newspaper to peer over to see that it was really him. After his run-in with Lestrange, he was careful about avoiding any of the pureblood types like the rest of them. James begrudingly handed over some sections, not caring if Amycus kept them or not. They were at this point moot and James didn't have any need for keeping papers after the house once he read through them. Unless it was for starting a fire. James leaned back in his chair and raised the papers again. "Not just any occasion, though I could make you feel special and leave in two minutes. You might even have hit a record for the longest conversation anyone would want to have with you."

A public pub. Something simple. Amycus had waltzed into the room as though he owned the place. Given the company present it almost felt like it. Between all the lost souls and the damned, who could really say who had the rights to set foot in his or anyone else’s path? And then he spotted someone, a face that just a week prior had simply vanished from existence far too soon.

“I’ll take whatever parts you don’t need, if sports are all you’re after.” Amycus slid into the bench opposite the other with the hint of a glimmer in his eyes. “That should allow you to get done and out of here quickly. Say, do you run from any social occasion, Potter?” He’d noticed, but truthfully, he didn’t care. The thought of getting a potential rise out of the other, though, that made it all worth it. - @its-jamespotter

[its-jamespotter]

"I just...didn't think it would be that serious-I mean, of course, it's serious, that's not what I mean. I mean...I'm just glad that they gave me desk duty instead of sacking me. It would be awful after all that training and work just to start over again." James could've asked her to save the lecture as he had already heard it many times before, including from the likes of Frank Longbottom himself. And he probably needed the tough love conversation. It bruised a part of him he didn't know existed, somewhere deep in his chest next to his confidence and ego. James only nodded back at her, sipping on his drink and licking off the extra foam that kissed his lips. He stared down at the drink as if trying to find an answer on how to be better at being an adult. "Yeah, well, I don't think people realize that there is a man out there trying to live his life when they send horrible letters. The man is also starting to get really tired of it," he rolled his eyes. "Oh, Rosmerta, my dear Rosmerta, you are an angel, did you know that? Yes, of course I'll pay you back- please don't mention the word teeth and we have a deal."

"You know that I like your jokes. Most of the time anyways. But you gotta learn some timing. Not just here but in the field. There's a moment for being funny and a moment for being serious. You have to find the fine line between them." Ros probably didn't have to tell him that, seeing as he was learning the consequences about it now clearly. But she was too forward to shield him from saying it once more. A frown appeared on the woman's face when he mentioned that the paper he had to work through which had teeth. "You keep having strange people who find it funny to send a cursed paper because they don't agree with something." She had to admit... Sometimes she had definitely been tempted to do the same when the Ministry had arranged a stupid rule again. "The tab system... Pay it once a week and if you don't... Well, I know where to find you and I don't think the letter will have teeth in that case."

[its-jamespotter]

James frowned underneath the comment, thinking that he looked good when he walked out of his place. There were many men whom he placed a lot of respect on who also wore mustaches or facial hair. He wondered if they ever got ridiculed like this. "I'm just trying to make it home in one piece today, but the added commentary is good for my self-esteem." James thought it much too deep a conversation for facial hair and nodded his chin at her. "Are we still talking about mustaches or what's on your mind, Jones?"

Hestia smirked. “The good thing is that I do not have to like it.” James with a moustache was something she hadn’t expected to see but it did suit him. A part of her wondered if this was about showing the world that he was more than the guy behind the desk and instead someone other’s could trust, someone reliable and dependable.

“It makes you look mature. Not old, but like someone trying to make it somewhere. Is that what you were going for?” The witch leaned back against the wall. “Whatever the case, I think we can safely assume Rome wasn’t built in a day. And it’s good that way. You’ll find your path, too.” Damn, it really would take some time getting used to that. - @its-jamespotter

[its-jamespotter]

James felt his body go light and stark at seeing a dead body. This shouldn't still surprise him but it always left him feeling like cold water was running through him. But this time was different. It felt like the room was trying to tell them a story about what happened with the way things were turned and on the ground. James was already assessing everything when the flash of color bolted across the room. At first he thought he was seeing things as he held his wand out and stepped closer to Marlene. "-An occamy, right. Was hoping you wouldn't say that," he said quietly. James wondered how many steps it would take to go back the way they came, but they were here for a mission and needed to see it through. "Mad? Mad at us?" he whispered-shouted to her. James held out his wand, pointing it and he went slack at what he saw before him. The occamy began to spiral upwards, growing until it basically filled the room. James could only stare, his eyes traveling up as the beast grew. "Damn it," he said more to himself when the beast began to move towards them. James shot a spell back as he made to run in a direction. "We need to get out!"

Sometimes she preferred Order missions than the ones the Ministry sent them to, never really counting on backup as they tended to minimize things. This one felt like a stretch, go and follow a tip, it never turned into something good. At least she had James by her side, one of the few people she could rely on with her life, so that made her feel more comfortable as they stepped into the unknown. There was dim lighting, slipping through the cracks of the wooden blinds, and the place looked like it'd been racked. Marlene followed closely behind her friend, wand on her left hand, the acrid smell of the decomposing body reaching her nostrils and forcing her to a halt. "Bloody hell, this is disgusting." She told him, voice low as she was trying not to breathe in too deeply. Certainly distracted by the smell, her gaze focused on the body lying at their feet, she didn't notice the creature until James froze in place. The witch turned around very slowly, afraid of what she'd see as the wizard looked scared himself. "That's an occamy." She said under her breath, blue eyes wide open as she'd never seen one in person before, shocked as it began growing in size. "James, I think it's mad, I think it's killed the wandmaker and it's going to kill us." A blurt, her body still, fingers tighening its graps on her wand, for once not knowing if it was better to run or stay put.

[its-jamespotter]

location: disclosed location; order mission status: closed; @mkmarlene

James didn't even know what they were doing there. They had been told by the Order to go together to investigate a tip they got about someone making extra wands for the Death Eaters, specific ones that didn't look like the usual kind but could blend in like other objects. He didn't know what he was walking into, but they managed to slip through the door easily, and his wand was held at the ready. The room clouded them in darkness, and he lit the tip of his wand to absorb the darkness. He saw what looked like damaged goods; furniture flipped over, papers on the floor, and then James stilled, nearly tripping when he saw the corpse of a man. That must be the wandmaker they were there for. "Fucking Merlin," he cursed, stumbling back, his heart falling like a stone to his stomach. It felt like one problem after another when he saw a peacock-like blue creature hurrying across the floor in front of them. No longer was the dead man his biggest problem. No. One of the worst creatures they could've encountered was in the same room with them.

"Bloody hell-Is that...?" James said, stopping in place when he saw the creature in full finally. It was indeed an Occamy.

[its-jamespotter]

location: anywhere; dealer's choice status: open to all!

A few days after Agatha's wedding, James was still trying to scrub the pureblood conversations from his mind, glad he'd only stayed for the ceremony and first dance. He'd left a good present to make up for his quick exit. The Prophet featured the wedding the next week, alongside the usual fabricated articles covering Death Eater crimes. "Which section would you like? I'm not yet done with the sports one. Still tallying how many bets I won."