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james has moved to my multi

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"Happy birthday, four-eyes." ♥︎ Padfoot

it was james’ birthday yesterday!! -- @siriuslly

      “Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything that clever in my entire life.”

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"Happy Birthday, love." Murmured against his lips as she pressed as close as she was able, stomach bulging between them. A sun beam was creeping across the pillows, just shy of falling across his eyes; she'd let him sleep as long as possible. It was quiet in the house, for once just them. That wouldn't last long; she was surprised Sirius hadn't floo'd in at midnight. But for now, it was her and James, and the baby kicking at her kidneys.

it was james’ birthday yesterday!! – @apcgee

     He was sleeping mostly on his stomach, though slightly turned towards her with his arm lazily draped around her waist. It was slightly elevated due to the swell of her stomach, but he didn’t mind. It was a reminder that, soon, he’d have even more to lose - but it was also a reminder that not everything was gone in this war just yet. He smile crookedly into her kiss and didn’t open his eyes when he replied, “We’ve got some time before we get out of bed, love. What trouble d’ya think we can get into yet?”

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TODAY IS JAMES’ BIRTHDAY AND I HAD TO WORK LATE SO I DIDN’T GET TO POST ANYTHING! BUT HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JAMES POTTER!

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apcgee:

       Four days. This was the forth time she had had to put the kids to bed without having any answers for them on where their Daddy was. No satisfactory answer for her, at least. They could be put off with ‘Daddy is out fighting the bad guys’, but she knew, she knew, James should have been done fighting the bad guys four days ago and been home to tuck them in a read them a story. 

What made it harder was that this was a first night, too. The first night without any of her other boys in the house. Or anyone in the house. An unusual case for the Potter home, to have both of the guest rooms empty. No recovering soldier recuperating their strength, no one crashing between missions. Even Sirius was gone, his usual room made up neat and tidy as he’d gone to start looking for what had happened to James. Not that he’d put it that way to Lily. No, “I’m going to make sure James isn’t having all the fun to himself,” was what Sirius Black had said to her, with that lopsided, cocksure smile that would have hid the nervous way his eyes clung to hers from anyone but Lily Potter, who knew him too well to be fooled by the act. 

No, he was scared, just like Lily. Scared that these first days were the start of forever, a Life Without James. That constant possibility that always loomed over them which was becoming alarmingly too real. Slumped on the couch, the framed picture of them at their wedding (one of the last good times, real, genuine good times) in her hands, Lily tried to deal with that reality with a heavy numbness that drowned out the knocking at the door at first. When the noise did break through, the frame was set aside for her wand. 

                  — People didn’t knock at the door of the Potter house. Either they walked right in, or warnings tripped long before they reached the door that someone was coming. Her heart pounding in her chest jumped up to her throat, threatening to choke her as the words filtered through, no longer indistinct mumbles, but clear words. She hurried the last few steps, pressing against the door, but no, no, she wasn’t that foolish. Wasn’t that naive to simply open the door to anyone, even someone saying they were James. This was a war, which had taken too many careless people, and she had the children to think up, sleeping up in their room. 

Fingers resting on the doorknob, she asked as firmly as she could manage, “What was the first thing I said to you as your wife?” 

       Her silhouette moved past the window, her shadow dancing through the curtains, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He still hurt — body aching with the pain, blood soaking his cloak — but Lily was here. And he was alive. That was more than a lot of people could say these days. Just let at Benjy. James shuttered and instinctively wiped at the red he was wearing. Not all of it was his.

      She wouldn’t let him in, but he was expecting that. They’d been doing this question thing for years now. Since the war got bad. Since before Harry, even. It was a thing the Order had decided to do after someone had pretended to be Caradoc for several weeks. Magic was a mischievous trickster.

      A small breath of laughter escaped his lips at her question and he let his head fall against the door as he answered, speaking through the crack. ❛ After we kissed? ❜ Their wedding had been a rushed sort of thing, James proposing without a ring, tying a knot of string from her sweater around her finger when he asked. Only a few weeks later, their friends and some Order members present. No family. James hadn’t had any left by then and Lily — she only had Petunia. They’d sent an invite — hastily put together by Sirius and James, not the most creative of blokes — but no response. It had worked out well, though. Lily in a simple white dress, James in robes he already had. They’d drank (well, James had, Lily being pregnant at the time) and they’d danced and kissed. And it hadn’t even been that bad when several of them got whisked away the next day for an attack on Diagon Alley.

      ❛ You’re stepping on my feet, love. ❜ He remembered it clearly. His cheeks had been flushed with happiness that day. His wife. ❛ That’s what you said. I still stick to my story that you stepped on my feet. ❜ He barely got the words out when she was whisking open the door, pulling him in, and he stumbled into her. Arm automatically wrapping around her body, ignoring the pain in his body, as he pulled her tight against him. His head in her hair, his hand clutching at the fabric on her lower back.

      He hardly noticed he had tears in his eyes. He thought he was going to die. ❛ I’m sorry. I’m sorry. ❜ His words rushed together, mumbled against her neck, not quite making sense as he threw her pieces of the story without connecting them together. ❛ We were ambushed. And then… Benjy. And, Lily, I didn’t have a wand. And they were cursing him and I was tied up and some of him got on me. ❜ Benjy’s body exploding, his pieces around the room, stuck to James, blood on his face. She wouldn’t understand what had happened until he calmed down and was able to truly tell her.

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bihoppers:

moodboards:

anonymous request my favourite hp ship, so i chose jily {harry potter} 

“How come she married him? She hated him!”

“Nah, she didn’t." 

"She started going out with him in seventh year, once James had deflated his head a bit,”

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"Hey Potter." Her lips whispered over the skin at the base of his neck, surprising him as he bent over an essay; would McGonagall later wonder about the sudden smudge of ink across the page? "Want to take a break and help me find a book in the stacks?"

       The grin spread onto his face easily, his eyes lighting up withthat mischievous twinkle that was so familiar. He knew what the stacks held —the students of Hogwarts got most of their gossip from behind those dustybooks. Without a second’s hesitation, he closed his book — a bit too loudly,earning a glare — and stood up to follow her. ❛ We’ll have to give ourselves some time. You know how long it can take to find what you’re looking for. ❜

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@apcgee

       A person couldn’t take the time to grieve when they had a child to feed, to clothe, to bathe, to comfort. Harry had been colicky since that night and James couldn’t blame him — his little cheeks red from the exertion of screaming, the tears leaking from those green eyes so like Lily’s. It hurt to look at him sometimes now, but James would look anyway. He would smile and shush and wait to shed his own tears until he was behind closed doors.

      Things with Sirius had been tense ever since Halloween. James had demanded for his best friend to have a right to trial, had played witness to the switch of the secret keepers. And Sirius Black hadn’t gone to Azkaban — the man who deserved it, long gone amongst the rats of the sewers. James didn’t have hope they’d find Peter anytime soon but, really, he was hardly looking. He had a son — and Harry was the most important thing in the world. Yes, he’d fought for Sirius freedom, but that didn’t mean he could just easily move on and accept that it had been Sirius’ idea that ended up getting James’ wife killed.

      He still loved his friend — and that made it harder. Wouldn’t push Sirius away when he came by to help (nearly every day, unless James got really mad, showing his temper), but it wasn’t the same either. Mostly, James just felt numb. His body weary with exhaustion of late nights, of finding a new home, of separating the belongings they could salvage. Of burying Lily’s body in the gravesite of Godric’s Hollow.

      It had been two months now since then, though, and while James’ grief was still palpable, suffocating, he still put one foot in front of the other. Their son had survived. He held Harry close to him as the wind turned chillier in the December air. He was bundled up tightly, but his cheeks were pink even though he was smiling up at his dad, grabbing for James’ glasses and tugging them down so they were haphazard on his face. James cracked a grin and gently pulled Harry’s fingers away, but it didn’t reach his eyes. This wouldn’t be fun — he should’ve told Petunia along time ago. They’d buried her sister without her.

      He let out a steadying breath, hugging Harry tight against his hip, as he moved down the walkway. Donned on either side of him, an impeccable yard, sprinkled with snow. The car in the driveway clean. Everything about this place screamed tidy. Nothing like his and Li — his and Harry’s — house. He lifted gloved fingers to the brass knocker and lifted it up. He practiced the words in his head for when she answered the door.

                  Your sister is dead.

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@apcgee

       His body was aching with the pain of his injuries, but that wasn’t the problem — the problem, James knew, was that he was supposed to have been home four days ago. Lily would be worried — Sirius was likely raving angrily by now. Remus keeping the level-head with crease-lines etched into his face. Peter ensuring them that this didn’t mean the worst.

      His kids — Merlin, his kids.

      The wand in his hand was trembling and it didn’t feel quite right in his grasp. It wasn’t his. He thought maybe it was Dolohov, but they’d all be masked and it was hard to tell, especially in James’ delirious exhaustion, the blood loss making his head foggy. The fact that he could even apparate past the wards was a miracle. But he could see his house in the distant — something he could see because he was one of the few would could easily move past the wards.

      James didn’t know if having a Death Eater’s wand would somehow force him out from the yard of his own home, but he was able to move past the neighbor’s quickly, stumbling to his own door. If anyone saw him, there would likely be Muggle police called. But it was dark, the only light on the street from the lamps lining the sidewalk. They didn’t live in a fully wizarding neighborhood, something James was used to from having grown up here. Several of their neighbors were magical, but the ones that weren’t — they steered clear from the odd family who lived at the end of the road. Lily and James and their two children — the same age, though they looked nothing like twins, how odd! — who often had people dressed in weird hangings and colors and hats coming in and out of their home. A few of them gossiped that, perhaps, the Potters were in some sort of violent gang.

            They wouldn’t exactly be wrong.

      James limped up the walk, falling into the door with a noise louder than intended. He had almost died — thought he was as good as gone. There had been other times like this, but nothing this certain. He’d pictured their faces, those he loved. Apologized to Harry and Hermione that he wouldn’t see them grow.

      He tapped the stolen wand to the door handle, but nothing happened. James should’ve expected — this wand had not been synced with the wards. With a weary sigh, he knocked, slightly frantic. He needed to get inside. ❛ Lily! Lily, it’s me. It’s James! ❜

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vivaciousandcharming:

         She doesn’t say that perhaps it should be in everyone’s interest to make sure Vernon is at ease, that’s not really James’ responsibility. Vernon wasn’t his family. No, it was Lily’s job to keep the peace, more so now because her father had passed. She keeps a grip on his hand and resumes walking, spotting the restaurant. and thinks of something to say. “He’s not that bad,” she managed. “He’s very formal. I’m not exactly sure why that is…But my sister is the same way so I suppose it’s a match.” 

         They are the opposite of you and I.

         They entered the restaurant and allowed their coats to be taken, a hostess showed them to the table where Vernon and Petunia were already sat. Lily should’ve known they’d arrive early, all so they could pretend that Lily and James had kept them waiting. Though, as Lily glanced at the nearest clock, she saw that they were right on time. Despite all Lily’s efforts to minimize criticism, she still somehow lost.

         “Tuney,” she said sweetly once they were at the table. Her sister stood to embrace her, but the hug was stiff and Petunia let go rather quickly to look at James rather critically. Lily hugged Vernon very briefly before he too turned his beady eyes on James. Lily noticed that he seemed rather fixated on James’ hair.  “This is James,” she managed and Petunia, then Vernon offered their hands for James to shake. “James this is my sister, Petunia, and her fiancé, Vernon.” 

         “Lovely to meet you,” Vernon said, his tone rather quieter than than the boisterous level he normally maintained. Lily was certain that this was to keep attention off his present company, should anyone he knew be in the vicinity. “I see you lost your comb,” he continued. “I would offer you one myself, but I had not known I would need to bring one!”

       Formal. The one thing James Potter was not was formal. He knew how to be, of course. After all, he’d grown up with polite society — his family popular enough amongst the purebloods, though never in a way like the Malfoys or Sirius’ family. James knew how to be cordial, when he had to be. But it wasn’t something he ever wanted to be. He enjoyed a laugh — Lily knew that, she liked him for it. It wasn’t as though he shouldn’t be himself. He’d always had the distinct feeling of fuck anyone who didn’t like exactly who he was. Even in the moments of insecurity where he’d tried to play up his cool-factor, trying to catch Lily’s eye with a snitch in his hand. Not his finest moments, but they were real, at least.

       He refused to be fake for her sister. Already, with what she’d told him, James didn’t like Petunia. Thinking about Lily growing up with this person who couldn’t see just how truly special she was left a bad taste in his mouth. But he’d try to be nice — for Lily’s sake. And he was determined to not go into this with pre-determined feelings on Lily’s sister. He’d done that enough in his life, judging before he really knew a person.

Didn’t stop him from thinking that he was very likely to leave this dinner with the same sort of disdain he entered with.

      He stood slightly behind Lily as they approached, his hand on her lower back until they reached the table. Vernon and Petunia were almost comical in their opposite statures and, for a moment, he wished Sirius were here to share an amused glance with. Then immediately was grateful his friend wasn’t. Sirius wouldn’t ruined this whole thing already with a laugh the moment he saw Petunia and Vernon. James loved his mate and all, but Sirius just wasn’t very tactful. He dropped his hand from Lily when she hugged her sister, eyeing the way it was stiff and uneasy. Nothing like the casual way he draped his own arms across her shoulder as they walked from classes or pulled her against him before bed.

      He shook both their hands in greeting — felt like he was being watched. Knew he was being watched. Vernon’s comment made his brows raise slightly, but James wasn’t so easily ruffled. Couldn’t even tell if the man were joking or not. Based on what he knew, the bloke didn’t seem like a comedian, but then again — surely no one would start the evening with such an insult! ❛ Doesn’t tame, ❜ he replied easily. ❛ Probably a good thing you left it at home, actually. I’m more likely to break it than flatten this mop. ❜

      They sat down and James, too late, noticed the way Vernon pulled out Petunia’s chair for her. He hadn’t done that for Lily and he could see the displeasure on Vernon’s face. His upper lip was sweating and it looked like he was smelling something foul. James couldn’t resist. ❛ I never liked the smell of seafood, either. ❜

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siriuslly:

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Sirius Black was in a mood. The sort of mood that told smart people to get out of his way and prompted stupid people to ask what was wrong. The sort of mood where he hoped someone would give him an excuse – any excuse – to pull out his wand. The sort of mood that involved a lot of stomping and glowering and general attention seeking.

The sort of mood that brought out the Black in him.

It’s not fair. It was never fair, that’s just life. But Sirius wouldn’t accept just life. That would be giving in, something that was not in his playbook. So instead he was stomping and glowering and generally seeking attention. And the common room was, of course, the place to do such things. But the common room was becoming an increasingly unsatisfying stage and he really just needed to be away.

Away ended up being a small alcove with a stone bench beneath an uncommonly used staircase. A place the Marauders often met between classes to plot and gossip. The bench was frozen, along with the rest of the castle. Sirius kicked it, grimaced, and sat anyway.

“Why is it so fucking cold?” he barked at the wall across from him. The question echoed off the wall and down the frozen corridor. Impulse took him and he shouted, “FUCK.” Satisfied as the frozen stone shouted it back at him until the word faded into nothing. Fuck.

       He’d heard about Sirius behavior — seen it, even, between classes and in the common room — but James knew his friend well enough to let it be. He’d gripe about it later. Find Sirius alone and let him stew. They worked best like that. But it didn’t mean the day was exactly pleasant, what with his best mate stomping around and sulking like they’d just been stuck cleaning the washrooms for detention. Remus has muttered something under his breath earlier that day and, when James turned, he saw Peter nod in agreement at whatever it was. Silently, he knew they were right — that whatever was being said was entirely justified because Sirius was sort of acting like a five year old. But James at least knew it meant something had happened.

      Eyes watched his friend as he stalked from the common room — breathing a sigh of relief. Their communal area too small for such fire. It would be catching, if Sirius decided to direct it at anyone. And judging from the way his fingers tightly clutched at his wand until his fingers were white, it seemed as though he were itching for a fight. Wouldn’t be the first time. Some unexpecting victim coming across the two of them simply because they were bored. It didn’t really make James feel proud of some of the things he’d done — but he hadn’t exactly stopped it either. And if Snape came along, he wouldn’t stop Sirius from using that wand.

      Giving him a few minutes to be alone, James quietly bid goodbye to Peter — Remus on patrols, hopefully if anyone catches them, it’ll be him — and clambered through the portrait hole. The Map proved useful again, it’s folded edges it tight James’ grip as he found a safe place to unlock the parchment, and Sirius wasn’t hard to find. One of the few dots out in the corridors — the rest of the students mostly in their respective common room or else perhaps the library for some late studying before it closed for the evening.

      It was a place they’d been many times before. One of their favorites. Stuck in a corner where they were noticeable when they wanted to be, but secluded enough that pranks and plans and discussion of the nest full moon wouldn’t be interrupted. He could hear a curse word ring throughout the area as he turned the corner and stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets, eyebrows slightly raised. ❛ These walls would have my mother scourgifying its mouth with soap. Nasty language, I never knew they could talk. ❜

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J A M E S  P O T T E R

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