The nameless man collapses onto James’s back, trapping James against the bed and forcing him to listen to the man’s heavy breathing as they both catch their breath. “Fuck, that was good,” his latest fuck says as he plants a final kiss against James’s hickey-strewn neck. The action makes James’s skin crawl.
James doesn’t respond, just lies there waiting for the man to get bored and leave. Thankfully he doesn’t have to wait long before the weight on his back lifts, but he can’t help the sound that escapes him when the man pulls out. Grabbing his wand, he attempts to spell himself clean, but nothing happens. It’s definitely his: 11”, Mahogany, Unicorn hair. “Lumos,” he mutters quietly.
“Yes?” the man calls from across the room.
James is forced to look up at the man he’s just slept with. So much for sneaking out. “What?”
“I thought you called my name. Did you say ‘Lucas?’”
Damnit, James thinks, now he knows his name. “Umm, I think you should leave. My roommate is probably going to be home soon,” James says awkwardly. It’s clearly a lie, but thankfully Lucas doesn’t call him out on it. He just throws on his clothes and with a wave Disapparates out of James’s room. James throws on a robe and goes in search of Hugo.
Hugo’s bedroom door is shut. James knocks, then waits. Knocks again, waits again. After his third round of knocks goes unanswered, he barges in. Hugo is sat at his desk, no doubt planning his latest invention. As James crosses the threshold, Hugo jumps out of his chair.
“Bloody hell, James! You scared the piss out of me.”
Hugo, always one for dramatics, heaves in a few breaths before responding, “Silencing charm. You tend to get kind of”—he pulls a face, clearly not comfortable with their current discussion—“loud.”
James flushes with embarrassment. He hasn’t really considered how things would be for his roommate. “Sorry about that. I’ll, um, work on it.” Hugo nods in response. “I need some help though.”
“Sorry, but I’m not looking to join in with you two.”
“Merlin, Hugo!” James says before hunching over to have a good laugh. “That was not at all what I meant. Something is up with my wand and I was hoping you could help me.” Hugo’s eyes light up at the opportunity to talk magical theory. “Before that though, could you do me a big favor? Since my wand isn’t working, I wasn’t able to clean up after and…”
“Say no more. And I mean it, definitely don’t say any more.” Hugo grabs his wand off the desk and effortlessly spells James clean. James thanks him then recounts the details surrounding his wand not working, and only those details.
“The wand chooses the wizard…” Hermione begins, reading directly from an ancient-looking book on wandlore that she just had lying around, “…but, on rare occasions, a wand may decide that it’s wielder no longer possesses the qualities he or she was first chosen for. When this happens, the wand will go inert and no longer react to its owner. This is known as ‘Wand Rejection.’ Sufferers of wand rejection often find it easier to simply acquire a new wand rather than attempt to correct that which resulted in the rejection….” She carries on reading, but James isn’t listening.
His wand rejected him. How could that be? It was his most prized possession, even above his broom. When Ollivander had said it matched the one he’d given to his grandfather, the first James Potter, his dad had never been prouder. He couldn’t just show up at Sunday dinner with a different wand—
“James, are you still listening?”
“Huh? I’m sorry, Aunt Hermione, it’s just a lot to take in.”
“I know. When Hugo mentioned it to me, I knew what was going on. I’ve booked you an appointment at Ollivanders so that you can try out some new wands—“
“I really appreciate it, but I’m actually going to try and keep mine.”
“Do you know what the reason for the rejection could be?” she asks, already re-reading a passage from the book to herself—it’s so obvious where Hugo gets his endless curiosity from.
“I might have an idea,” he admits. Although if it’s what he thinks it is, this is not going to be easy.
“Well, I’m here if you ever need anything.”
“Thanks. I will.” He gets up to leave. “And please, if you could not mention this to my dad. At least not right away.”
James looks down at the stack of parchment he’s retrieved from the chest under his bed. He glances at the letter on top of the stack:
I miss you. I know I start most of my letters with that, but that’s because it’s the truth. I know now that maybe I was dreaming a bit too much. That life doesn’t always give you what you want. It’s not easy to accept but I’m trying.
The letter is dated more than a year ago, and it’s the last one Teddy sent. He doesn’t have to read any of the other ones in the pile to know they all sound the same. Confusion, hurt, sadness… He did that.
No one but he and Teddy knows what happened that summer after Victoire dumped Teddy. How James had swooped in to comfort Teddy, but then had gotten scared when things became too real. ‘I love you.’ Completely out of the blue, Teddy had said that to him one day. And like a coward, James had run from the best thing he ever could have had.
Ink drips from his quill onto the parchment, but James doesn’t know where to begin. He’s committed to doing this though. He glances to his wand resting on the desk, but the sight of it makes his stomach uneasy. It’s no longer about his wand. It’s about the qualities it saw in him. The qualities the Sorting Hat saw in him. The qualities he wants to see in himself again.
WeakRevolution’s take for altober: Day 19 - Rejection is a big mood. I love it, but it hurts so much <3 James needs to get his shit together and get back his man.
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