paint my spirit gold

James Potter 7th Year. Gryffindor. Quidditch Captain. Marauder. “It is part of a good man to do great and noble deeds, though he risk everything.” -- Plutarch

[goingxstag]

responsibilities || james & remus

[goingxstag]

remus-whoisleft‌:

“Oh,” Remus said, his stomach sinking and his eyebrows raising in almost comical tandem. The look was plain as anything on his face; he hadn’t realized James didn’t know, and the flustered flush that crept along his cheeks as he barreled on was further testament to that fact. “Fuck. I didn’t - I knew he didn’t really want to tell everyone because he has this - absolutely ridiculous notion in his head that he won’t get it, and - and, he had to ask McGonagall for a recommendation and wanted me there for support, that’s all. I didn’t realize he hadn’t told you, but it’s - it’s really just because he thinks there’s not a chance he’ll make it. I shouldn’t have mentioned it anyway, it’s his thing to - fuck.”

It wasn’t much, in terms of explanation or apology, but it was done in Remus’s version of charming agitation that it hopefully came off as sincere as it truly was in his haste to make some sort of a point.

“Alright,” he sighed, softly, knowing that James was ending the attempt to argue - even for his own good! - and that pushing it further down that particular track wasn’t going to work. “I just… hate to see you give up something you wanted, James. That’s all. You’re my best friend and I don’t want you regretting anything - even if this is for a good cause. Obviously. A great cause; you know I love your parents.”

Remus watched his friend pace around the bed, worrying at his bottom lip as he did and trying to otherwise appear… supportive. He laughed when it was appropriate, nodded along with James’s every reasoning, and actively fought the urge to argue fully with him. It was bad enough that Remus didn’t approve of the decision: it was clear enough to him that James wasn’t happy with it, either, and had gone along and done it anyway.

Selfless, was what it was. Not that that was particularly surprising when it came to James and the people he loved. Remus scratched absently at his wrists, and the strength it was taking to not argue in James’s favor meant it was all the easier to jump to attention when his own dazzling future was brought up.

“Right, dazzling,” he laughed, shaking his hair out of his eyes. “I mean, don’t get me wrong - I’m excited to graduate and live with Sirius and just, don’t hit me for being sentimental, starting our actual lives together, but… I don’t know how dazzling it’s going to be. Not when I’m going to have to, y’know, lean on him so heavily for the rest of it all.” He paused, squinting up at the ceiling of James’s four-poster, letting the anxious squirm in his stomach get the best of him, his self-hatred and constant mild despair for his future as a werewolf bubbling up without a proper filter. “Well - the rest of how long he’ll want to put up with me. His most likely unemployed and feared werewolf boyfriend,” that was punctuated with a laugh; a genuine one, but not enough to mask the fact that it was clearly a real worry of his.

James couldn’t help but chuckle to himself at the immediate twist to Remus’ expression; he held out both hands in front of him, gesturing for the other bloke to take a breath as he rambled through an explanation. 

“Whoa, whoa, Moony, breathe. It’s all right -- I’ll wait for him to tell me. Or call him out and not mention that you brought it up. I would’ve found out sooner or later, anyway.” Being left out, he could admit privately, caused a small sting of hurt, but not anywhere near enough to get all riled up. James understood wanting to keep things to oneself until it was a certainty, and he liked that Sirius could talk to Remus about important things. There was nothing James wanted more for his mates than happiness, and James was thrilled that they’d found it in each other. If that meant that he was a bit outside the circle once in a while, well, he reckoned he could cope. After all, in a few months, they’d all be living on their own and taking different roads anyway, whether they liked it or not. 

It was obvious that Remus wanted to argue with him further, and James appreciated it when he let the subject drop with a relatively small amount of fuss. He didn’t want to fight, especially not over a decision that couldn’t be un-made -- and to be entirely honest, he’d much rather have his friends about him while he processed than not. So James shot Remus a relieved smile and allowed some of the tension to seep from his limbs as he continued his pacing around the room. 

James came to an abrupt halt a moment later, and turned to face Remus with an obvious frown. “The rest of how long he’ll put up with you?” he repeated incredulously. The comment shouldn’t have taken him by surprise; after years of friendship, James would have had to be blind and dumb to miss the depth of the other bloke’s insecurities and unhappiness surrounding his lycanthropy. But he’d thought -- rather naively, in retrospect -- that his relationship with Sirius was an exemption, now that they’d worked through the hard shite and were actually happy.

Obviously, James needed to start paying closer attention to his friends and stop worrying about bridges he’d already burned. 

“Right.” James sat down on the edge of his bed and patted the mattress beside him, giving Remus a look over the rims of his glasses that suggested dire consequences if he didn’t comply with the unspoken request. “Mate, I’ve got news for you: you’re absolute shite at divination. You can’t predict the future any more than the dirty old sock at the bottom of my trunk.” He flipped a smile in Remus’ direction, the expression meant to be teasing -- but James had a hard time joking about this subject, so it didn’t quite make the mark. “My point is that you have no idea if you’re going to be unemployed, or if the Ministry will finally come to their bloody senses and stop being a bunch of bigots. Hell, maybe these vigilantes will have taken over in a few years, and all these Pureblood arseholes will have crawled in a hole!” That, admittedly, sounded like wishful thinking, but James was making a point, damn it. 

“And I can’t see the future either. I don’t know what’s going to happen. But I do know that Sirius loves you, and he’s way too stubborn to just stop one day. And it’s not like he doesn’t know that you’re a werewolf, mate. He’s moving in with you and planning a future with his eyes wide open, so give him some credit, will you? Sirius isn’t a total git.” James knocked his shoulder against Remus’ thinner one gently, unable to help himself. “Things are going to change, Moony, but no one’s going to stop wanting you around. And you’re brilliant. People are going to see that, werewolf or no.”

[goingxstag]

sirius-whoisleft‌:

You have, but it still makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside to be reminded. 

I concede. I concede! You absolutely would have been able to help, and I should have told you sooner. I was trying to spare myself from the much-needed overabundance of pitying when I didn’t get into the program, which your girlfriend has since informed me was “stupid” and, I’m paraphrasing here, very in line with the typical male line of thinking. Quick! Someone get in touch with Orion and tell him that I am macho, after all. 

Yes, McG wrote me a lovely letter. She gave it to me sealed and said I wasn’t allowed to read it before sending it in, but I held it over a candle and was able to manage a few delightful phrases. Fingers crossed. 

Before summer for sure – although it’s not like you won’t have keys to the London flat. And a place to stay as often as you like. There’s another bedroom, and it’s yours for every drunken debacle and even for when Fleamont starts making real strides down the road to recovery. But the decisions come through in a few weeks, and then it’s a waiting game to find out if NEWT scores and final grades hold up. Bullshit on top of more bullshit, you know how these things work. 

Hmm. I was thinking a chat about your future actually. But yes on the firewhiskey and yes to enjoying the time we have.

Factitious. Factitious. I can’t believe you.

Well, as long as you concede that I’m right and you were wrong, I can dub the matter closed. Until I want to rub it in your face at every opportunity in the next year or so, of course, but I’d think you know to expect that after all this time of suffering through friendship with me.

Talking about my future plans will be an awfully short conversation, Padfoot. I’m assuming Moony’s already told you, by now, but I’m moving back in with Mum and Dad. My Auror Program acceptance letter is in ashes, and I’m officially mooching off of family money as of June. Dad’s not getting any better, Mum can’t keep up, and I owe it to them. And yeah, yeah, I’m a bloody idiot, the most stubborn git in the universe, I shouldn’t be giving anything up to take care of my parents because they don’t want me to ...  I’ve heard the lecture from both of them and Moony, too, so no need to beat a dead horse. 

Yes? Good. Now, about the party. Gryffindor Tower, obviously. Just us lion-hearted, or are we being kind enough to invite the rest of the castle to our last hurrah? If I’m drunk enough, I might be able to ignore bad company, but after my last drunken hexing idiocy, Lily might confiscate my wand -- really, it’s a toss up. I know we’ve all been busy being responsible and all that shite, lately, but it’s been months since we’ve done a proper prank, and how can the Marauders graduate without one last showstopper? A party would be the perfect time, don’t you think?

Here’s another word for your word-of-the-day calendar: galvanized. As in, I have been properly galvanized to plan a party. (And I believe I’ll earn myself a snog with that one tonight, thank you very much, so mock all you like!)

[goingxstag]

responsibilities || james & remus

[goingxstag]

remus-whoisleft‌:

“Highly doubtful,” Remus laughed, shaking his head slowly. “I think the sheer amount of points we haven’t lost over the years is testament enough that she secretly loves all of us.” A pause, before he snorted; “Wasted potential or not. I caught the look on her face when Sirius told her he was applying for Cursebreaking, she loves the lot of us.”

It was true, as was the surprising poignancy of the phrase wasted potential given the subject they were now tentatively tip-toeing toward.

Remus’s face didn’t lose its puzzled expression; it got more twisted, if anything, as he bit the inside of his lip, furrowed his brow, squinting slightly at his friend. It made sense, in a way, even if it felt wrong to acknowledge it. James was too bright, too brilliant to not follow his dreams - and there was a flash of jealousy in Remus’s stomach, at the mere fact that James could throw opportunity away and still come out alright. It was enough to deepen the frown Remus was sporting.

“Prongs, mate, I’m sure your parents don’t - want you to throw this away.” He said, carefully. “It’s - not as if auror training is twenty four hours a day, either, is it? You’ll only be a floo away from home every evening.”

It was dangerous territory, he knew that very well. Remus’s mother was often sick but never to the extent Fleamont was now; he didn’t have the experience to tread this matter with the grace he’d otherwise like to, but it was also his best friend he was looking in the face.

“I understand it’s your parents,” he continued patiently, rubbing his hands together a titch nervously now. “And that they’re as stubborn as you are. I’ve met them. But it’s a hard bloody program to get into, and I can’t imagine they’ll take it lightly if you say no at the - y’know, height of when you’re best able to learn what they want to teach you.” He bit his lip again, looking from James back to where the last few ashes remained on the foot of the bed. “Maybe - write them first? Before you… finalize it?”

There was a long, confused pause as James digested Remus’ words. At the end of it, he cocked one eyebrow and shook his head slowly. “I’ll just pretend I knew he’d applied for Cursebreaking, shall I?” he said with a rueful chuckle. “I knew he’d been studying a bit more than usual, but I didn’t realize it was because he’d set his sights on that.” James wasn’t particularly surprised, aside from the fact that Sirius had never truly committed to any one idea of what he’d do in the future. Cursebreaking was a way to do good and a challenge, and James could see Sirius’ creative mind doing well in that field. Even if he was a bit miffed that he hadn’t known about it. 

James couldn’t hang onto that feeling for long, though, as Remus’ frown deepened at the reasoning behind James’ decision to destroy the letter from the Ministry. He didn’t understand flash of something angry in the dark eyes looking back at him, didn’t know how to read the sentiment behind that frown at all. Normally, James could communicate with his friends across crowded classrooms with the tilt of an eyebrow or the twitch of his lips, but in that moment, reading Remus’ face was as difficult as picking up a text written in a different language. James found he didn’t like the sensation. 

“It’s already done, Moony,” James said firmly, gesturing pointedly at the remaining ashes with a wild wave of his hand. “I hardly think the Ministry’d be willing to send out another copy of that form even if I changed my mind -- it’s not exactly responsible behavior to lose the first one.” Vaguely, he could also remember mention of a tracking spell on all Ministry correspondence, but that was neither here nor there. James had no intention on backing down from his choice, whether his friends and parents approved or not. “I’m going to tell Mum and Dad at Easter, so they have time to be angry or disappointed or whatever and get it out of their systems by the time summer arrives.”

Ignoring the sinking pit in the center of his abdomen was getting easier as the conversation wore on, James found. Disappointment was a hard emotion to get over, and he knew that this time, leaving behind a goal he’d held for years wouldn’t be easy, or something to take lightly. But he also knew that there would be no living with himself if he joined the Auror program and missed out on all of that time with his parents -- they needed him, whether they cared to admit it or not, and James needed to do right by them. It was as simple -- and as complicated -- as that. 

“It’s all right, Remus,” James said, pacing listlessly in a circle around his bed. “Chances are they wouldn’t have taken me, anyway. My attendance record is shite, and I would’ve had to take a ton of competency exams first. And I’m no good at sitting for exams.” That, at least, was true, even if James was fairly sure he might have had a chance at a position in the program. Sitting still was the bane of James’ existence, and sitting for tests was a special sort of torture. “Besides, now I’ll have plenty of time to be about and distract you and Sirius from the dazzling futures ahead of you. And you thought you’d be able to get rid of me, after we left school!” He smiled teasingly, aiming at a light-hearted change of subject and hoping for the best.

[goingxstag]

James: Our plans always fall apart. Always! It'd be impressive if it wasn't terrifying.

Sirius: We've gotten good at improvising, though.

[goingxstag]

sirius-whoisleft‌:

I prefer to think of it as using your wonderful strengths against you, actually. For instance, everyone knows how good you are at sleeping. Plus, I wanted to talk to you when you were at your most relaxed and docile. Who can blame me for coming a little too close to the mark?

I wouldn’t be so sure. Don’t worry, I’ve made my peace with it! The whole thing is a big mess and it depends on teacher recommendations, attendance records – a whole lot of shit that we didn’t think to care about. Or, I guess Remus did. And you, Mr. Head Boy. And Peter, but he sucks up to everybody. Just me, then! But it’s my bed, and I’ll lie in it, and the whole reason I didn’t tell you properly was because you’re too lovely and refuse to let me pity or doubt myself, even when I deserve it.

Now that you’re in the loop, though, we should plan on something. A celebration for Lils, a pity party for me, or some combination of the two. 

They made a boatload, cursebreakers. I expect Evans will be keeping you in the life of lavish comfort to which you are accustomed. 

I’ll write them, but only because I’m still waiting to have a conversation with you about said future, and I don’t want them taking up all your time and knocking me down the list. 

Fine! I accept. I accept wholeheartedly. You’re my best friend, and a proper lad. I know you know it, but you really are, and it bears repeating. (Did that sound grateful enough?) 

Have I mentioned that you’re a git, lately? 

It’s hereditary. Me’n dad both sleep like the dead, so it’s not my fault. And I don’t quite get why I needed to be docile to hear good news, but whatever. I fully admit that I can be a little overwhelming when I’m excited about something, so if you actually wanted to focus on the application, not telling me was probably smart. Even though I maintain that I might have been able to help! 

My attendance record isn’t any better than yours, mate, and we both know that Dumbledore had to have lost his mind when he named me Head Boy. But you’ve got McGonagall as a reference, yeah? That’s what Moony said. That’s got to carry some weight. And you’ll ace any testing on spells and shite -- so if you want to be pessimistic, fine, but I think you’ve got a real shot.

I’m always happy to throw a proper celebration! Or pity party, if you insist. When do you find out one way or the other? Before summer, or will Lils and I have to break into your place with Moony to celebrate? 

Er, you want to have more of a conversation about your future? I don’t know what else there is to cover, mate, but whatever you like! Can this chat involve firewhiskey? Because outside of being pleased for you, I’ve heard enough about everyone’s plans for after Hogwarts. Can’t we just enjoy the time we’ve got left? 

I know you’re being factitious (and if you make a joke about hanging around Lily too much, you ... would be absolutely right and I don’t have a leg to stand on, but I have no regrets.) But I’m going to pretend that you’re absolutely sincere, ‘kay?

[goingxstag]

lily-evans-wil‌:

passing notes || @lily-evans-wil​

Although Lily had the good sense to the very class they were in to help transfigure the note to transport itself over to James, his was passed back with a little less finesse. She let minutes past before even looking over the note. Thank Merlin she did as everyone’s eyes were down when a deep red blush spread over her cheeks.

I would like to point out that there are plenty of hours before curfew as well, and broom cupboards are the same midday or midnight. Your girlfriend without any rest will however be different. Not so spry and healthy would be my guess.

Are you trying to turn my face completely beet red? My hair is already red enough thank you, I don’t need to stand out anymore.

James bit his lip as he watched Lily’s cheeks flush; he’d lost track of the lecture entirely now, and likely wouldn’t have noticed if McGonagall attempted to talk to him directly. It took long, dull moments for her to finally look at what he’d written; James tapped his quill impatiently on the side of his desk as he waited. It was worth it, though, when he caught the exact moment she read the innuendo. The two of them had spent quite a bit of quality time in a broom closet here and there, but they’d kept things fairly innocent -- but in a fit of daring, James had pushed the boundaries a little, and was simultaneously eager and anxious to see what Lily’s reaction would be. 

As soon as the note appeared back on his desk, James dragged it beneath his desk to read, smirking as he scanned the words. His response was scribbled beneath the desk on his lap, with shoddy handwriting: 

If I could actually get any of your attention during the daytime, maybe I’d take that suggestion ... but you won’t skip any classes, skive off studying or Head duties, and when you do have an evening off, I have to run Quidditch practice -- besides, isn’t it so much more romantic, sneaking around at night under the cloak? It’s a thrill! You’re young, you’re beautiful; that won’t change with bags under your eyes. 

Would you hex me if I told you that I was actually trying to turn your face red? (If the answer is yes, anywhere but the face, please!) I happen to like making you blush. I’d prefer to do it with a more, shall we say, hands on approach, but this is fun, too. 

Is that a yes to tonight after curfew, then? 

XO James

[goingxstag]

The note was, somehow, waiting for Remus when he arrived in the library. It was almost as if James had known when he’d be there and where he’d sit -- which of course he had. He spent enough time with the other bloke to know his habits. 

Moony, 

First of all, you need a night off. Studying this much has to be bad for your sanity, and I happen to like you with all your marbles. Come plot mischief and mayhem with me tonight instead - I owe Gudgeon and the Hufflepuffs a decent revenge prank after this morning!

- Prongs

( @remus-whoisleft​ )

[goingxstag]

sirius-whoisleft‌:

Sirius didn’t flinch when he felt the ball of parchment hit his head, the sound of the impact muffled by his long hair. It fell to the floor with a papery swish, and Sirius kept well-trained eyes on McGonagall before he dared down to retrieve the note. He’d known by the delivery method that the message was from James, but he smiled when he saw the familiar handwriting anyway. That smile faded a little bit – into something more guilty, to be sure – as he read, but he was quick with his reply. Once written, he sent it back to James with an underhanded toss, timed for when McGonagall’s back was turned to scribe notes onto the board.

To be fair, I did mention it once. You were half asleep, and I said ‘Prongs, I might go out for cursebreaking’ and you said ‘what?’ and I said ‘I’m tired’ and then we went to bed? 

Jokes aside. It’s a million in one shot, and I didn’t think it was worth mentioning until I knew an answer for sure. Whether you knew or not, Lily’s got the better claim to the program, so it makes all the sense in the world that she have access to our family library. [The word ‘our’ is underlined three times, to match James’s point.] 

As always, I’m very aware and appreciative that you would have moved heaven and earth to make things happen if I’d told you. Didn’t want to waste the famous James Potter dedication and charm on such a slim shot.

It was difficult for James to do anything that didn’t draw attention to him; he was terrible at working unseen, even in something as simple as tossing a note in class. But he was as careful as he could be when he grabbed the tossed bit of parchment and slid it quickly under his open textbook. He shot Sirius a quick wink across the classroom, just in case it hadn’t been obvious enough in his note that he wasn’t bothered by the secret, and scanned the words quickly when the professor’s back was turned. 

I might count that as telling me if you didn’t know good and well that I don’t remember anything from when I’m half asleep -- using my weakness against me? For shame, Padfoot. 

A million to one? I think your chances are a bit higher than that, mate, and not just because I’m your best mate and biased. You’re a brilliant wizard, you’re creative and smart, and I’ve yet to see you fail at something you put your mind to. Give yourself some credit, here. Lils is undeniably brilliant and I love her, but you’ve got just as much of a shot as she does. 

You need to tell mum and dad! They’ll be pleased to hear and to brag on you for a while, you know.  And I promise I’m not only saying that because I would love for the conversation to switch from my future plans to yours. Even though I would. 

I hope you know that the infamous James Potter dedication, charm, and brilliance is always at your disposal. And I’ll be doing everything I can to help whether you want me to or not, so I would just accept gracefully, if I was you.

[goingxstag]

savingdavey‌:

The letter, upon opening, is charmed to cover the recipient–James, naturally, in a bit of rivalry fun–in yellow and black face paint with a badger dancing for a few seconds over their head. It was a joint effort (Davey couldn’t spell it himself) with the team watching on from the Hufflepuff table and knowing full well they were starting something.

You look good in yellow, Potter.

- Davey

@goingxstag

James blinked down at himself in surprise as the charm worked, shocked to silence (for once!) It took a moment for him to realize what had happened, but when it registered, James just threw his head back and laughed, a wide grin on his face. Good pranks at Hogwarts were rare those days, now that the Marauders were too busy for much of it, and James couldn’t help but appreciate a good one, whether he was the butt of the joke or not. 

Once the charm had faded, James pulled a bit of torn parchment from his bag and scribbled a response back to Davey, still chuckling -- while his mind raced, already plotting revenge. 

I look good in everything, Gudgeon, but I appreciate the compliment! 

Also ... in case you were expecting to get away unscathed ... game on.

- JP

The charm is simple, one that he’d learned as a second year student determined to get one over on Severus bloody Snape in front of Lily. When the parchment was opened, it shouted, rather loudly: “Go, go, Gryffindor!” until incinerated. Annoying, and effective.

[narcissainbloom]

owl ; hogwarts breakfast delivery

[goingxstag]

narcissainbloom‌:

While a face-to-face conversation would have done just fine or, in a pinch, a note scrawled onto spare parchment and dropped passive-aggressively onto his desk, Narcissa opted to send her note to James on formal stationary instead. It was the ‘good stuff,’ all heavyweight paper and an embossed N.I.B. glowing in silver letters in the topmost corner. 

Mr. J Potter, the note began, absurdly. 

I’ve noted on your school schedule that you have a free class period between lunch and dinner nearly every Thursday evening. If you’re so inclined as Head Boy – which I believe you should be – to make yourself available for a meeting this week, I’ve tasked myself with assisting the Hogwarts alumni foundation as they get their yearly newsletter together, which includes information on what the former and current Heads have accomplished and have planned for their futures.

Répondez s'il vous plaît, no later than Wednesday next.

Sincerely,

Narcissa I. Black

–– @goingxstag

James loathed pretentiousness, and receiving an owl from someone sitting two tables away, and on ridiculously expensive parchment, as well, seemed the height of it. He unrolled the scroll and scanned the contents while stabbing his fork into a sausage link with more aggression than strictly necessary, but found himself staring in surprise at the contents of the note. 

Narcissa, 

Is there any particular reason that you couldn’t ask me about this in the hallway? Or in the Prefect’s lounge? Or in any way that isn’t so bloody pretentious? You’re sitting two tables away from me right now - it would have taken a moment to walk over here and speak in person. 

I’m not thrilled that you’ve taken it upon yourself to look up my schedule, but it looks like you’ve made sure I’m free, so I can’t exactly say ‘no,’ can I? The library’s likely the best spot for this sort of meeting, isn’t it? Neutral territory, and all that. I’ll be there at three in the afternoon, and I’ll answer your questions or whatever it is you need for half an hour -- but I’ve got plans after that, and I’m not cancelling. 

- JP

[goingxstag]

@sirius-whoisleft // inattention, as usual

The note was written on a ragged, torn-off piece of parchment that was obviously once part of an old essay, and it was crumpled up into a ball and tossed across the classroom aisle at Sirius’ head, in typical James fashion.

Did I know that you were applying for Cursebreaking? Because I’ve already raided Dad’s library for his books on the subject for Lily -- obviously I’ll make her share, but you could have had first shot at them since they’re from the bloody family library. [The word family is underlined three times, for emphasis.] 

PS: Obviously, I’m ridiculously proud of you and all that soppy stuff, you git. 

[goingxstag]

lily-evans-wil‌:

passing notes || @lily-evans-wil

Although Lily takes the note, she makes sure to shoot an eye roll James’s way so he can see it, even if it’s well after he’s passed the note to her because she’s warned him about doing this before but he just won’t listen.

If you continue to keep me up into the late hours of the night, how on earth am I supposed to get any sleep, oh James, bane of my existence. 

If we are talking humans, maybe I can transfigure you into someone who can’t speak. How will you woo me out of my chambers then, hmm? - LE

James smirked at Lily when her response landed on his desk; somehow, despite all of her insistence that they pay attention in class, she was better at getting it to him unnoticed than he was. He scanned the note and scribbled a quick response back, uncaring of the fact that McGonagall had definitely stopped giving notes and had instructed them all to put their quills down. There was a good chance he’d hear about that later.

Aw, come on, Lils! How are we supposed to have any fun at all if we have to stop at curfew? The broom closet isn’t nearly as exciting at midday! Besides, we can sleep when we’re dead. We’re young, we’re healthy, and we’ve only got a few more months in the castle -- now is the time for being up at all hours!

And honestly, you think something as simple as losing my voice would stop me wooing you? That sounds like a challenge! I suppose I’ll just have to show you how good I am at non-verbal communication. . . maybe tonight. After curfew, obviously. 

[goingxstag]

connections || @lori-may

Lori, 

You know, you might’ve mentioned when you graduated last year that you were going to drop off the face of the earth -- I’ve got no decent connections for a bit of fun in the Tower anymore, if you know what I mean! Any suggestions? It’s nearly the end of the year, and I’m planning on our last Gryffindor party taking us seventh years off with a bang. 

Hope you’re well! 

James

[goingxstag]

passing notes || @lily-evans-wil

James slips the note onto Lily’s desk in the middle of Transfiguration with a wink and an off-hand promise to McGonagall: “Yes, of course I’m paying attention, Professor! Wave wand, say spell, transfigure bird -- I’ve got it!”

Lils, light of my life, you’ve got to stay awake in class or you’re never going to let me drag you out at midnight for a bit of fun ever again and I will be bereft. Besides, complex transfiguration is loads of fun! Birds are only a few steps down from humans, right? Think of the possibilities!

XOXO James

[lucinda-whoisleft]

decisions have to be made ||

[goingxstag]

lucinda-whoisleft‌:

Lucinda really hadn’t come looking for a fight, and she wasn’t prepared for one. She was given a pamphlet, she read it, she expressed her surprise. She could place exactly where she went wrong, but the fact James Potter was talking down to her like he was the epitome of wisdom meant not turning over quite as easily. If he wasn’t questioning everything about her so deeply, something that she avoided doing at all costs, she likely would have rolled over. These were things she did not want to think about. What couldn’t he understand about that?

“And what good werewolf have you ever heard of?” Lucinda challenged. “There are a reason these things exist. It’s not propaganda when it’s true, and your naive desire to see the good in people and beasts alike isn’t enough to undo lifetimes of attacks and violence and fear. They, like, take kids and hurt people because they can. That is factual. Not hopeful.”

Of course, it was, and his stubbornness and insistence she was wrong without a single thing to back him up certainly wouldn’t change her mind. Lucinda had spent a whole childhood under the threat of werewolves coming for her if she was bad; she’d grown up further in school with awareness of them attacking people. She heard the stories; she knew what papers said. Of course, she was afraid. It made no sense why he wanted this.

“And I thought all Gryffindors were supposed to be chivalrous and think of others, but you singly prove that there are exceptions there. You can’t even compare it the two. They’re not people.”

“So because you don’t know any decent people with lycanthropy, they don’t exist? I guess muggles don’t either then, eh?” James shook his head, disgusted with the conversation and the girl sitting in front of him. He’d been hearing this shite nonstop for the past several days - and worse, knew Remus had been, too, and his patience for ignorance was low at the best of times. By now, it had been worn nearly completely away.  “You’re condemning an entire group of people based on the actions of a few -- that’s mad! And I can absolutely compare the two; you just don’t like it because you’d have to pull your head out of your arse and realize that I’m right, otherwise.” 

James’ fingers clenched tightly at the sleeves of his robes. He knew he was getting worked up pointlessly. There was no changing the minds of the ignorant. Fleamont had warned him of that fact many, many times as James got older and began to see the injustices of the world for what they were. The worst had been over Christmas, when James had read of the latest round of muggle-born attacks in the Prophet. He’d been filled with righteous fury, ready to argue with anyone who dared look at him sideways when the subject came up, but Fleamont was right. He could talk until he was blue in the face and these people, who were truly ignorant enough to believe that muggle-born wizards -- or werewolves -- had poor treatment coming to them, would never relent. 

Reality made James’ blood boil.  It wasn’t just that the new laws dictating werewolf behavior affected one of his mates, though that was a large part of his fury; it was that the entire wizarding world seemed bent on attacking and hating people who didn’t deserve it. It was that in every paper, in every conversation and letter, someone was talking about another unjust law, another death, another attack. James’ world, and society at large, was getting darker and darker, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. 

So yeah, maybe James lost his temper a bit, but really, he thought it was fair. 

“Funny, that. Because you fit the selfish, spoiled personality of every bloody Slytherin I’ve ever met,” he snapped. “You’re the one with no empathy, and a head full of someone else’s opinions -- so I suppose I can live without being chivalrous, if it means I don’t have to be anything like you.”

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beautiful distraction || @lily-evans-wil & James

It wasn’t as if James had expected his parents to like that he’d decided to put off his post-school plans to stay home and look after them. It had taken two days of Spring Break to talk himself into telling them early, so they’d have time to grow accustomed to the idea before he lived with them round the clock when summer came. So James had been ready for Fleamont’s insistence that he was fine, thank you very much, even as he stared up at him from with foggy eyes and an expression taut with pain that he couldn’t quite hide. He’d been ready for Euphemia’s tears, her reminders that she’d survived looking over James and Fleamont for decades, and would keep doing it. 

What James hadn’t expected was for their reaction to bother him as much as it did. The Potter house went eerily quiet when Fleamont was forced back to his bed, and James didn’t want to be there any longer. He’d made his decision, his first one as an adult, and he didn’t intend on allowing his parents’ pride to get in the way. For once, James was doing the unselfish thing, and he knew down to his bones that it was right, no matter what other people might think. It looked bad, yeah -- another pureblood mooching off of his inheritance -- but James, and the people closest to him, knew better. And that had to be enough. 

A few hours passed in silence while James puttered and paced in his room, finding small, fidgety tasks to keep him occupied, but eventually, enough was enough. He needed to get out, to let off some steam in a way that his parents’ home and their isolation in the country didn’t allow. And while his mates were undeniably great, they were also busy with their own plans over the break -- and there was only one person that James wanted to see at the moment. So before he could remind himself that he’d not yet met Lily’s family, or that honestly, he only sort of knew where her family lived in muggle England, he made up his mind. James wanted to see Lily, and he’d never been the best at impulse control. 

He apparated to the address he’d gotten off of one of Lily’s letters and paused in the drive for a long moment, taking in the strange peace of the quiet neighborhood where, as far as he could tell, magic was never used. It was strange to think about; James had grown up surrounded by magic. He used it every day, for things as simple as pairing his socks or cleaning his glasses. But here, in this neighborhood, people didn’t have that option -- and it was odd to consider. 

James knocked on the simple front door, looking self-consciously down at his muggle clothes. He thought he’d done a good job of dressing for the occasion, but he may have missed a button or two on the flannel shirt he wore. He was hoping to avoid forcing Lily to introduce him to her parents or anyone else who might be in the house. That was rude, and honestly, he was hardly at his best today. So when Lily herself opened the door, James’ shoulders sagged in relief and he stepped forward, wrapping his arms about her waist and hiding his face in her neck, smushed glasses and all. “Hi,” he mumbled into her skin. “Sorry for just turning up like this. I missed you.”

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ghosts of the past: plot prompt

March, 1974: 

Dear (older, wiser, and hopefully more devilishly handsome) James, 

Since my memory isn’t utter shite, I hope you remember that writing this was a mandatory assignment for McGonagall in third year. I spent an entire evening scrubbing pots without magic for detention because I tried to get out of it with no luck, so I had to suffer through writing it and you have to suffer through reading it. (Is it sadistic to say that? Since you’re really me?)

I’m not really clear on what we’re supposed to be writing about here, or what the purpose of this assignment is, but I suppose it can’t ever hurt to read a list of things that make me happy, right? So, in case you’ve forgotten in the next few years, the top six best things in the world are: 

Sirius, Peter, and Remus (not in any particular order. Don’t be a tosser!) They’re all sitting around me while I’m writing this, so I might have to tear this entire thing to bits if someone peeks over my shoulder and sees that, but it’s true.

Quidditch! 

Snivellus’ expression when he’s enraged after being the butt of a particularly good prank. Yesterday’s was particularly good! I learned a new spell from one of Dad’s books, and he had to go about classes with giant boils on his equally giant beak until the healer got back from a training. It was brilliant! 

Evans’ hair in the sunlight

The way Evans has to fight a smile at some of your jokes

Evans’ smile in general

The way Evans’ face turns bright red when she wants to hex you in the middle of class, but can’t because she’s too afraid of landing in detention. She’d be so much more fun if she’d just unbend a bit!

Summer holidays at home with mum and dad (and Sirius, of course) 

Getting away with a particularly creative prank that you pulled off with all your mates. Doing it on your own is never as much fun, and you’re not as creative by half. 

Your birthday & all of the presents that comes with it. (It’s just passed, and mum and dad sent us the new Cleansweep! It’s bloody amazing! The handling, the finish, the acceleration -- well, I guess you know. But I don’t know how they’ll ever top that gift! 

There. That should’ve made you happier, even if you’re having a shit day. Though, this assignment would be a lot more fun if you could write back. I’d like to know what the future’s like -- feel free to nick a Time-Turner and pop back for a chat. I promise I won’t run mad if I see myself, or whatever it is the Ministry’s worried about. Because, seriously, if it’s near the end of 7th year like McGonagall said, are you training to play professional Quidditch? Have you already been scouted? Have you and the others figured out how to help poor Remus with his monthly problem, yet? Is Sirius any happier? Has Pete figured out how to transfigure a beetle into a broach without causing an explosion? Is Slughorn still the worst bloody teacher in existence? Does McGonagall’s stare-down in class still make you shut up, no matter how determined you are to keep talking? 

I guess I’ve got a few years before I find out, but I hope the answers are good ones. 

I hope life’s good for us by the time 7th year rolls around. I hope we’re happy, and still surrounded by our friends. I hope we’re still pulling pranks and being careful not to take life too bloody seriously, and that no one’s shoved a stick up our arse so we’ve forgotten to have fun. When you’re reading this, you’re almost free, and life should be amazing. Don’t screw it up! 

Sincerely, 

You. Me? 

*** Tossed haphazardly in the letter’s envelope are several wizard’s photographs. The first is one of James, Sirius, Peter, and Remus with their arms tossed over each other’s shoulders, smiles on their faces, from the first day of that term. There’s one of the James zooming along on his new broom, and of Lily in the Great Hall with her head tilted to one side as she talks to a friend, an amused grin twisting her lips.