OOC: No one asked me to do this, but I just couldnât resist. My writing is nothing like Finnâs but I still wanted to post this because she played with my emotions with that drabble and Iâm here to wreck her canon. So, yeah, here it is. My version of How It Should Have Ended aka fuck your canon, finn.
The news came to him like an expected tragedy. He remembers a book someone once recommended to him, âChronicle of a Death Foretoldâ and, while he never actually read it, he canât help but think itâs fitting for his current situation. One night, not so long ago, his father had told him what it had felt, walking towards his own death. The fear but also the strange peacefulness. Thatâs nothing like what he is feeling now. Right now, itâs like he is an open wound, raw, vulnerable and ready for someone to pour salt on it. He should have been ready for this; after all, he has known for monthsâ no, years, ever since they were in Hogwarts.
His siblings have left him alone. It was hard to convince them to do so, but he couldnât bear their pitying gazes. They mean well and he loves them, but they remind him why heâs here instead of there. Why Eden is about to say yes to an unhappy life he has never wanted. He doesnât fit alongside Eden Rosier. He has always felt nothing but pride in regards of his heritage and family, but now he canât help but wonder how things would have turn out if he had been born to someone else. Someone of the Pureblood Elite, in a world where old prejudices about same sex relationships didnât exist.
Ever since he was a small child, listening to his grandparentsâ love story, he had wanted to meet the one. To fall madly in love with someone and have them love him in return. He wanted something full with fervor, public and over-the-top shows of affection, endless smiles, his parentsâ blessing and cuddling in front of the fireplace. A wedding in white, full of dancing, with both of their families present and photos heâd show his future children. Now he only wants Eden.
He doesnât feel like flying or doing anything at all. Violet left not long ago, hurt by Jamesâ scathing words ( he hadnât meant any of them ). He is alone and thatâs how he likes it. The flat seems lackluster and gray, the silent is loud in his ears. Thereâs a door to a room he canât bear to even look at ( they used to call it a guest room, ha, thatâs funny ), he canât even lay on his own bed as it reminds him of too many things heâd much rather not face. Â
The telling sound of an incoming floo call would usually have him running to answer it, but he doesnât seem to have the energy at the moment. Is there a point in talking to people? Itâs probably Lily trying to bully him into getting up or Albus attempting to comfort him in his stilted yet adorable way. But he canât meet their eyes now. The ringing is insistent and, finally, it annoys him enough to walk towards it.
When he answers it, he doesnât believe what heâs seeing. It canât possibly be Eden, could it? Not Eden who is supposed to be marrying a pretty pureblood bride. There is a buzzing in his ears and he is not sure what is said but his heart is pumping wildly and the world around him has color once again. The only thing he knows is that he is immediately apparating away from his home, forgetting the fact that he is not wearing shoes and that he has an unflattering patch of stubble covering his jaw.
They meet in a flurry of uncoordinated limbs and knocking teeth. Life stops looking so bleak, but rather exciting and daunting once again. Itâs as if he is able to breathe after being underwater for way too long. Their kiss isnât perfect, and James finally realizes that it doesnât have to be. Itâs him and Eden, Eden and him, and somehow that is enough ( it has always been enough ).
They start talking in hushed voices, planning a trip and he wonders whether heâs dreaming or in the middle of a grief-driven hallucination. As Eden offers a small, unsure smile James determines that he doesnât fucking care if this isnât real. Itâs enough, thatâs what it is. The other man mentions Croatia and he blinks bemusedly but smiles and nods. And says yesyesyes to everything Eden proposes. Heâs not letting him go, he decides. His family will understand, he knows they will. If they donât, it pains him to discover that the thought doesnât stop him from grabbing Edenâs hand and leaving everything behind.
Thatâs how he ends up with his head leaning on Edenâs shoulder, with bitten lips and a content smile on his face. But Edenâs face is full to the brim with concern and thereâs a frown marring his not quite pretty but still somehow alluring features. âAre you okay?â James asks instead of Do you regret it. He canât face the answer to that question, heâd rather continue with this lie a bit more. Â A little bit more would be enough.
âI am. I will be. Iâm just glad I was brave enough to do this.â He can breathe once again, tension leaving his shoulders. âSo am I.â Iâm glad I was brave enough to say yes. James smiles and smiles and smiles because he is awful with words and canât think of another way to express the all consuming happiness that is currently wrapped around his heart. The scenery in front of them is beautiful but not anywhere as breathtaking or captivating as this brave brave brave man at his side.
( When he wakes up the following morning, Eden is at his side. During the night, they have changed positions and Jamesâ arms are wrapped possessively around the other; as if scared that the other would go back to his wedding the second he let go. The sun filters as the curtains fail to cover the large window completely. It feels like a movie, and Eden looks unreal. He can hardly believe it and he pinches the skin of his arm to make sure itâs not a dream. Everything stays how it is and James sighs in relief before burrowing his head in the crook of Edenâs neck. This wakes the other man up and his sleepy eyes are too pretty for him not to softly kiss their lids. There are consequences to face, he knows, but Eden feels perfect lying beside him. The consequences can all wait. He tightens his arms around the other when he hums disgruntledly at the sun hitting his face. âLetâs have breakfast, Iâm starving,â James whispers, a smile already curving his cracked lips. Eden only hums once again in acquiescent before stretching on the bed like a lazy cat. )
đ for a headcanon about Jamesâ relationship with Eden.
James is not good with words; thatâs a known fact. Even if he desperately wanted to, thereâs no way he could accurately describe his relationship with Eden. Or the feelings he keeps hidden inside. The sensations and emotions the darker-haired boy man provokes in him are always intense and tend to leave him feeling breathless. The same effect Eden often has on him (and other people in general). James, as an implicit rule, tries not to think about the other people in his friendâs life. The feelings they provoke are always bitter and tend to leave him feeling the need to punch someone. Maybe Eden, maybe himself, maybe that girl he saw Eden sneaking out with. James is inexperienced, but eager. Boy, is he eager. But heâs also scared and unsure. He used to think he was fearless, that thatâs what made him a true Gryffindor; but the thought of Eden hating him has him dreaming of it at night and promptly waking with a pained gasp, eyes trying to catch his friendâs sleeping form in the dark to make sure it was indeed a nightmare.
Then, maybe the best way to describe Jamesâ feeling is this phrase: If Eden is not in the happy ending heâs always desired, then James doesnât want it.
đ for Jamesâ first impression of Eden.
âWhat a dick.â James was probably not impressed with Edenâs sour attitude after their sorting. To him, being a Gryffindor was and still is something to be endlessly proud of. The fact that the other boy seemed so angry at the new colors on his robe only pissed him off. Wearing red and gold was a privilege after all. Edenâs sharp words did nothing to improve his opinion. Needless to say, as the years went by, his feelings changed drastically.
â for something James will never tell Eden.
James will probably never tell Eden that he stole a pair of socks from him. To be fair, he was running late to McGonagallâs class and he had already received two warnings. There simply was no time to search inside his trunk for socks; it was usually so messy and disorganized that it took almost ten minutes every time he tried to find something. However, there was a pair of black socks innocently lying on his friendâs bed. Without hesitation, he put them on and promptly run out of the room (completely forgetting about his shoes). For some reason, James has never returned them to Eden and the other is apparently none the wiser. As this happened years ago, he is too embarrassed to confess. (He can always tell what pair is Edenâs, even if most of his socks are also black.)
âCute.â Cue explosion sounds as James isunable to function when faced with Maxâs levels of adorableness. The nextthought is probably along the lines of âmust protectâ.
đ for a thought James has had about Max.
James is not usually one to thinkpessimistically. Sure, the world may not be perfect. People may be cruel. But,hey, at least we are alive and have the chance to do something about it. However,sometimes when Max excitedly tries to show him ways to endear himself todifferent creatures, the thought of the Hufflupuff being too kind for thisworld will appear. The urge to protect him from the evils he seemingly hasnever met is strong and overwhelming. Max is the embodiment of pure, of kindness, of tomorrow will bekinder. The only way the Gryffindor has to express these thoughts is to hugthe other boy fiercely, often interrupting him mid-sentence.
đŹ for a random thing James has said to Albus. Â
âDo you think they donât teach children maths in the Wizarding Community in order to keep a firm hold on population? Since they donât know what inflation is and stuff like that?âÂ
đ for a thought James has had about Albus.
James is constantly blown away by Albusâ intellect. Logically, he knows his younger brother is smart. Everyone knows that; their parents couldnât be more proud. James couldnât be more proud. But sometimes Al will thoughtlessly make a really insightful comment that leaves his mind reeling. His younger brother is the one James goes to with doubts (which maybe should embarrass him. but not really?? because al is smart and knows stuff. thatâs just a fact of life. not being as smart as albus doesnât mean youâre dumb. thatâs something he has realized over the years).
đ for a headcanon about Jamesâ relationship with Violet. in which i realize i donât know how to write headcanons Â
James was raised by a strong-willed mother,so it was no surprise that when he met Violet, instead of feeling intimidatedby her passionate nature, he felt right at home. Thatâs what Violet feels like.Like home, like pillow forts and muffled giggles. Like his motherâs lullabies,and scraped knees and their parents chastising words. Sheâs a piece of hischildhood, his adolescence and of his future adulthood. Heâs sure that a lifewithout Violet Longbottom would be a life half-lived. The mere thought of it isterrifying.
đ for a thought James has had about Violet.
James is not the type to think about stuffin clear sentences. Usually his mind is a jumbled mess of sensations andimages. So thereâs really no way to put this perfectly in words, but he hasthought that Violet is the embodiment of strength. Maybe not in a physical ormagical way. He admires her determination and passionate attitude. Sheâs hiscaptain, but he would follow her even if she wasnât. Her restlessness and hardwork make her a sort of incredible figure in his mind at times. But then shemakes a stupid joke and said image falls down like dominoes. He still loves herthough; lame jokes or not.
 â for something James will never tell Violet.
James is completely honest with Violet. Idonât think heâs physically able to hide something from her. The closest thingto a lie he has ever gotten are his feelings for Eden. But, to be fair, hedoesnât actually realize why his heart pounds like crazy whenever heâs around thedark-haired boy. Once he finds out, he will promptly freak out and ask forVioletâs help. I bet itâll be hilarious.
Send đ + a name/URL for a headcanon about my museâs relationship with them
Send đ + a name/URL for my museâs first impression of them
Send đŹ + a name/URL for a random thing my muse has said to them
Send đ + a name/URL for a thought my muse has had about them
Send â + a name/URL for something my muse will never tell them
Life should be organised, neat like a wardrobe. Everything in its place, used when and how he saw fit, discarded when it couldnât do him any good. Eden liked to separate his weeks into slots, paying courtesy visits to the people he knew would matter in the long run and popping up by the side of those he genuinely cared for. He didnât plan who he was going to meet when, as even he couldnât predict what mood heâd be in by his next free period. Instead he reserved chunks of his post-classes time for tasks or events, and picked from his always long, never boring to-do list.
Tonight was Jamesâ turn: something the Rosier heir had been waiting for, but if he listened to himself heâd see James much too often, and he knew how that would end: much like a cigarette, if he got used to a certain amount of Potter within a given time frame, heâd be left wanting more. Keeping their friendship a dirty little secret was as exciting as it was a burden, but tonight he found it fun.
âHi Jimmy, howâs my best guy doing tonight?â he asked cheerfully, nearly skipping towards where his friend was lounging on a comfortable-looking, oversized pouffe. âWhat did you do yesterday? I couldnât find you when I came back.â Came back from where? Why, a broom closet or other he had found empty, but had quickly filled with good company. This too had its own time slot in Edenâs agenda. âCare to fill me in?â
James wriggled in his seat, trying to find a comfortable position. Once again, it was futile. No matter how many different poses he put his body in, there seem to be no way heâd be comfortable in the pouffe. With a scoff, he hunched his back and glared at the other Gryffindor students who were currently using the sofas. The one in the right corner, the nearest to the fire was Jamesâ seat. Didnât everyone know that by now? He had to stop himself from stomping over there and snapping at an innocent second year. It wasnât the kidâs fault that he was in a particularly foul mood.
Someone reasonable, in touch with his feelings and reality as a whole, would realize it was no oneâs fault but their own. However, the young Gryffindor had never been called reasonable. So, of course, the blame was on the defective (even though it was brand new) broom, the malfunctioning bludger, but especially on the fifth year Beater who James was itching to kick out of the team. However, Violet refused to listen to him (âit was an honest mistake, james, youâll be okay in no time. donât be so dramaticâ). It felt an awful lot like betrayal.
His head snapped up as he heard Edenâs voice. Heâd be lying if he said his mood hadnât just brightened up considerably at the otherâs simple greeting. James smiled widely, as he always did in his presence. The mention of his friendâs last night escapades made his grin fade slightly, but it stubbornly stayed on his face. Wordlessly, he lifted his right arm. His arm, surrounded by a stark-white cast. âPomfrey is forcing me to wear this. Apparently, Iâve been pushing myself too hard or something.â He said in distaste.Â
âShe could have mended my bones in less than a minute, yaâ know? But nooo, she had to use muggle medicine to punish me or something. Â I should take it easy or something. Such bullshit.â There was a frown marring his face now, the smile had disappeared. Not even the sight of the other Gryffindor seemed to be enough to cheer him up (which was rather rare). âI ought to go kick that Beaterâs ass. Theyâre not a fucking rookie; they have no excuses for fuckâs sake.â He practically spitted out.
Violet noticed Jamesâ frown (it was hard not to. It looked like someone kicked a puppy) and she wouldâve asked him about it but a lot of things held her back. Firstly, she wanted this time to be upbeat. It seemed that wherever she turned it was doom and gloom and all the blonde wanted to do was ignore it. She also knew that if something was bothering James, heâd let her know when he was ready. There was no point prodding him. When he started talking about McGonagall however, she got it. Sure, Violet never understood the weird relationship he and McGonagall had (or the one James thought they had). All Vi saw was a teacher who wanted her student to do the best he could. Perhaps a little sterner than the boy would like but you could see it in Minnieâs eyes that she cared. The blonde couldnât exactly preach that though. Especially not with her track record of disliking teachers. All she could do was nod and try to help her best friend see the positive.
âWell youâre here now and this is a McGonagall free zone, I promise.â she said in earnest, holding out her pinky finger. âBut if you want my opinion? Tell her that. Tell her youâre not your Dad or your Grandfather and that youâre trying your best. Maybe sheâll cut you some slack.â She shrugged, not sure what else she could offer. âPlus, you only have to suffer through this year and then youâre done. You wonât have to worry about her again.â
Violet swung her legs around so that they were resting in Jamesâ lap as she sat up a little straighter. âIf it makes you feel any better, I could tell you about the lowlights in my week.â
âOh, captain my captain. Your advice is heard and appreciated.â He dramatically replied as he leaned his head against the wall and closes his eyes. Violetâs words were most probably the smartest thing to do; but Jamesâ pride stopped him from revealing his feelings. Somehow, admitting that McGonagallâs attitude bothered him (to anyone who wasnât Violet) felt like losing. He would bear these last months and never see her again; that sounded like a good plan to him.
He was woken from his reverie when his friendâs legs were placed upon his. Playfully, he rolled his eyes. âDo I look like a couch? Do I have a banner on my forehead that says put your filthy feet on me? Why does everyone think they can just rest their bodies on mine?â He faked a scoff. Then, at Violetâs comment, he frowned. âDid something happen? What happened?âÂ
The break out had everyoneâs nerves on edge; Jamesâ werenât an exception. Even the smallest of problems now made the oldest Potter wary and nervous. The thought of one of his most precious friends being in danger trouble unsettled him to the core. At the same time, he felt guilty for not being aware of what was going on in Violetâs life. Usually they knew everything about each other; basically joined at the hip. However, these last weeks had been tough on the Gryffindor. He barely even knew what was going on in his life.
The best part of rounds, in one prefectâs opinion, was checking the kitchens. Though there were usually students there, they nicked off easily with a questioning stare. The elves were the real reason he even checked. They reminded him of his own favorite elf, Dandy, and they tended to dote on him quite a bit. He didnât care much for sweets or chocolate but they had begun to pick up on that and it was nice to see a steaming mug of coffee waiting for him when he entered. He could swear there was a hint of cinnamon in it, though he never did express his taste for it. The house elves must have spoken to Dandy somehow.
Just as he had sat down and taken his first sip, and Morgana they managed to make it perfect every time, Scorpius heard the slow drawl of another student. Well, he hoped it was a student. It wouldnât be good for a professor to catch him lounging on his rounds. The voice was familiar enough but he couldnât seem to place it. Did they say Uncle George? Scorpius stood up, coffee still firmly clutched in his hand, and walked through the kitchens in search of the mystery voice.Â
He didnât spend nearly as much time in the kitchens while at home. Even here it was once a week for half an hour or so but it still amazed him how much space was in what should be a rather tiny room. Apparently enough room to hide a tipsy James Potter. Getting over his shock by taking a small sip of his coffee also gave Scorpius a moment to decide how to answer. A part of him wanted to reprimand Jamie for getting drunk in the kitchens, how careless. Maybe doing that would give Alby a little laugh. âI think getting sloshed in the kitchens may be a new low for you so yes? You are an idiot, Jamie.â
âScorpius!â James whined as the child that he was. He pouted; the expression was rather unflattering as the stubble on his chin prevented him from looking endearing (as Scorpius would have looked like if he had been the one to pout). The young wizard huffed, letting his forehead hit the table. The sound startled a few house elves, who started to watch the oldest Potter sibling warily.
âDonât be mean; Iâll tell on you.â He mumbled, lazily staring at the other boy. âAlbus wonât like it if youâre mean to me, you know that.â His younger brotherâs protective streak wasnât something many knew about; as a matter of fact, James had only found out about it only a few years ago, but it was one of the most amusing and adorable traits the youngest Potter brother possessed. Albusâ loyalty to him never failed to make him feel warm and fuzzy. âItâs good to see you, Scorps.â His mind felt a little bit clearer now. âWe donât talk anymore, do we? We should talk. Letâs talk.â
paige gave james a little chuckle and threw back the drink, cringing at the aftertaste and the stinging in her throat. she flared her nostrils and shook her head. âif i were in gryffindor iâd be disowned, james. besides, i like having a winning quidditch team.â she joked, not really caring but knowing it would get a reaction from james. she walked around the counter to take a seat next to her friend, not really taking anything he was saying seriouslyâalthough it was nice to be called pretty when she was wearing her pajamas. she started to pour herself another drink. âwhatâs got you down here with a bottle tonight?â she asked.
âNever mind, then. You are evil.â James sneered at her Quidditch comment. How dare she? The words stung, especially since Gryffindor had only won the Cup once since he had entered the school. It was a heavy blow to his pride; the young wizard was determined to win it this year. His focus was completely on Quidditch; fuck N.E.W.Tâs (donât let his mother hear that). He shook his head before he started spouting insults to her; Paige was decent for a snake, she didnât deserve that.
Her question made him frown as he remembered Edenâs smile directed to another, his bright eyes and his wandering hands. With a scoff, he drank some more Firewhiskey, trying to get rid of the knot in his throat. It didnât work. âNo particular reason,â he lied. âStress, ya know?â He motioned vaguely, averting his eyes. âHow âbout ya, Paige? Didnât take you for a Firewhiskey kinda girl; maybe Elf Wine or something like that. Ya know, fancy or whatever.â
The house elves were often alone in there, although visits from students (and probably staff, although Max was still to find proof of that) werenât rare. The presence of another wasnât what surprised him: the state they were in, as well as who it was, did that job.
Jumping up slightly at the loud noise, Maxwell scrunched up his nose, unsure what to do. Well, not really; he could easily answer Jamesâ question â âof course not! Why would you believe such a thing?â â but he had not idea whether to stay where he was or approach the older wizard. Eventually he settled for the latter. âI mean it, you know. Youâre far from an idiot. Although, maybe drinking in the kitchens is not exactly the wisest thing to do.â Saying this, the Hufflepuff looked around, frowning at any house elf who caught his eye. How could they let a student grab a bottle of alcohol and have at it unsupervised? Seeing the state James was in, the small creatures werenât very interested in stopping him. âWhy did you come here, James?â
âMax! Maxie! The max-iest of Hufflepuffs, therefore my favorite one.â He slurred, eyes crinkling happily at the other boyâs appearance. His words made him pout; of course it wasnât wise, James wasnât a Ravenclaw after all, was he? Thankfully not, he looked horrid in blue. Or thatâs what Scorpius had said once. Had it been Scorpius? It must have been; he was the only one who cared about fashion out of all of his friends.
âI came here because Iâm lonely. Eden is with whatâs-her-face, and left me all on my own. Fucker. But now youâre here! Youâre much better than Eddie, anyways, arenât cha, Max? You wonât be embarrassed of being seen with me, will you? Letâs be best friends!â He stretched out his arm as if to offer his hand for Max to shake, but in his drunken clumsiness, he knocked the bottle and the alcohol started pouring out of it. James made a desperate noise as he grabbed said bottle and stared at the wasted Firewhiskey on the table with tears in his eyes. âI am an idiot after all,â he mumbled, the previous mirth vanishing immediately.
âThatâs right! Youâre right, Iris! Youâre always right. Being amazing at Quidditch requires brains and Iâm an awesome Quidditch player! The bestest.â His grin was goofy as he declared this, wrapping an arm around Iris. Then, he frowned confused and asked âWait, arenât we in the common room already?â He blinked bemused and then let out a gasp, as if surprised that he was in the kitchen. âWhat are you doing in the kitchen, âris? I donât think students are allowed here.â James scolded, mimicking his fatherâs stern tone of voice.
âPaige!â James loudly exclaimed, elated to see her for some reason. âSneaky snaky Paige! Youâre too nice to be a snake. Too pretty as well! Donât you want to be a Gryffindor? Being a Gryffindor is the best.â His smile and his words were completely shameless. While it was mostly due to the alcohol flowing through his veins, when sober James was also capable of saying things like that. He nodded at her request, pouring her some Firewhiskey in his glass and handing it to her.
   âwell, jim-jam,â dominique patted her cousinâs shoulder, making her voice sound as sympathetic as possible. âhate to break your aching heart, but youâre the BIGGEST dolt aroundââ she was kidding, naturally, and the poorly suppressed laughter proved the point. while james wasnât incredibly academically oriented, he wasnât the dumbest sheâs seen or known. and maybe it was because they were cousins she thought highly of him, even when he insisted on calling her ânickyâ, there was only one james sirius potter and she wouldnât trade him ( not even for all the cats in the world ). however seeing james in a drunken state of moping, the redhead sighed. âbrooding doesnât suit you, jimbo, so how about you tell me where you got the alcohol and we can swap woes. i promise you that you arenât actually an idiot. girl scouts honor.â
James wrinkled his nose at the familiar nickname; and then scowled at the badly suppressed laughter. âYou were never a girl scout, you liar.â He slurred as he raised his left hand which held a half-empty bottle of Firewhiskey. âI wonât tell you where I got it because youâd steal it and share it with your slimy friends. This is a Gryffindor-only type of alcohol, so you canât drink it.â Â He declared with a firm nod. Then, he smiled conspiratorially and whispered: âBut Iâll give you some because youâre family.â With another nod, he asked one of the House Elves for another glass and they eagerly provided it. He messily poured the liquid, most of it splattering over the wood table. âThereeee you go, Nickykins.â
okay lets play a game: instead of yâall asking me headcanon questions, send me your headcanons for my muse. ( bonus: if i really like it i may make it an official headcanon )
âContraceptive potions donât guarantee safe sex anymore, ya know? My uncle George told me that one of his friendâs cousins had drunk one but he was stabbed by the womanâs husband anyway.â James was passionately telling one of the house elves working in the kitchen. He had had one too many glasses of firewhiskey and his eyelids were struggling to stay open. Feeling thirsty, he downed another one and cursed loudly when he felt the familiar burn in his throat.
Suddenly bored with the conversation he was having, he turned his head to lazily scan the rest of the kitchens. There were various house elves cleaning the dishes which had been used during dinner and chatting amiably. None of them was paying him much attention, already used to the Seventh Year weekly visits. He heavily sighed, struck by the feeling that even surrounded he felt alone. Carelessly, he let his head drop on top of the table with a loud thump. Why was he still single when most of his friends had already had several relationships? He was handsome, an amazing Quidditch player and Harry Potterâs son. Was something wrong with him? He knew he wasnât the brightest, but he wasnât dumb. Was he? Merlin, was he dumb? Was his lack of intelligence the reason no one would date him?
James snapped his head up, feeling like he had just reached an epiphany. Once he did, he realized there was another student in the kitchens and he slammed his hand on table, trying to catch their attention. âTell me the truth; am I an idiot?â His words were slurred, but clear enough for the other person to understand.
