“mmmmm, jim-jams?” scor hiccuped out a laugh, stretching languidly like a cat. “we can talk about anything, most of it is nice and it’s like… nebulous.” he mimicked grasping something in long, dexterous fingers. “hypotheticals, morality, s’just listening and sharing and quiet… nice and quiet. calms my mind down, makes it feel like i’m working without having to worry s’much. like a gentle push to think.” his nose wrinkled suddenly, eyes narrowing to slits at the sudden change in his expression. “i am going to set the sweater vests on fire one day.”
the forest was silent, still in such a way that meant death had crept in and taken hold. aurelius had wandered off to be alone, but with the foreboding trees towering around him, he began to doubt his actions. the bitter cold sank into his bones, making an old wound in his knee ache, and it was with twisted amusement that he realized war had made him old, had broken him. “and now it has broken you,” he whispered, reaching out to touch the bark of the tree, fingertips gliding over the rough surface. “or maybe you don’t even see it, the war waged around your roots.” his teeth grazed his bottom lip, sinking into the soft, pink flesh. he heard the crunch of leaves and whipped around, his wand in hand, green eyes frantically darting about. had it been an animal? did animals still inhabit these woods? not daring to speak, aurelius stood, knuckles whitening the tighter he gripped his wand, the only comfort that remained to him.
The forest was somber, yet filled with abundant life. One of the few places that the war had yet to destroy for even when it was burned to the ground, life would spring from it once more. If only the Order could do similarly. It was, after all, named poignantly for the Phoenix. They were meant to rise from the ashes: try try again until they succeeded. Even if it cost them their lives. Yet it felt these days that there was something even heavier hanging in the air, wrapping about their souls and draining them of vibrancy. Despite the pub crawl that had been meant to reignite their spirits, James was finding it more and more difficult to hang around the safehouses for long. He had been about to break into his fox form when he came across Aurelius, revealing his face clearly to his companion to display to him that he was friend rather than foe. “Just me.” There was no need for added tension to curl over their ragged muscles. “Didn’t expect to find much of anyone out here. They’re doing a little pow wow here shortly at the safehouses, if you’re interested.”
“just try putting your hands on me again and i will remove them from your body.” she warned, batting his grabby hands away, her blood BOILING with the same fury that always consumed her. stupid college boy – she itched to t r u l y teach him a lesson but she couldn’t. magic use would cause far more trouble than it was worth. “i’m not interested.”
Anger didn’t often bubble to the surface with James. He often let it boil over and evaporate, sink into his skin and morph it into something useful ( or it would backfire and bubble into an all-encompassing sadness ) but this wasn’t a war-related injustice. This was something that was sadly a common happenstance when frequenting bars. Gritting his jaw and locking his hands at his sides, he didn’t touch the boy, but he did create space between him and Lily, cover his sister’s body with his shoulder. Not a protection he felt she needed but he was intent on distilling the situation. “You heard her. Move along before we have to call in everyone else.” He gestured his head toward the crowd of Order members.
“this is exactly what my purpose is, in doing this. to do things other people can’t.” nadia reminded him brusquely, as if that were the end of it. in reality, she knew that what she and james typically did was a little less morally sound than a rescue mission; they blurred the line between right and wrong—-or if not entirely wrong, then doing the wrong thing for the right reason. still, this was something that was worth taking the time for, if not for james’ sake then for everyone’s—-mcgonagall in particular was much too valuable to lose or to waste any time not trying to locate. “besides, i am, fortunately for you, a witch more than capable of multi-tasking.”
she gave him a searching look at his question, leaning against the wall of the alley with a bit of a sigh as she contemplated her answer, “it varies, like most potions. it really depends on what you’re trying to regenerate, and how much, and to what extent it goes against nature to do so. just some tissue, a bone or something… a simple growth potion—-it can be a bit painful, as you know, but fairly harmless and not all that trying to brew.” by trying, she meant it didn’t incorporate something illegal or close to. “if you’re trying to regenerate a—-body, or reanimate something that ought to be dead, well—-” there were instances where it could be done, but, “i wouldn’t recommend it. and in that case it’s not usually just a potion.” arms crossed over her chest, she fixed her gaze on him once again, “why do you want to know?”
"I know.” James was well aware of how competent Nadia was. If anyone could get it done, it was her. “We’re used to risks, but I would feel better if we stuck to necessary ones.” Or maybe it also had to do with it being hard for him to ask for any sort of favors. Nadia had done plenty in their efforts, yet James had to wonder what he really brought to the table in this alliance in situations such as these. Typically, they were more well-balanced. Together, between them, they had the brains, the will, and the necessary wits to make things happen that otherwise wouldn’t. They were able to take calculated risks and come up with ideas that the Orders -- and the Death Eaters -- wouldn’t draw up on their own.
That was the reason he had poised the question in the first place. Insomnia was common for the young man and it was during those twilight hours that he would ponder at length. He held up his hands to dismiss any concerning thoughts she may have, “Not planning on attempting it myself anytime soon.” Or ever. What was dead should stay that way. His own arms crossing as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, he explained, “It was something I was merely thinking about in passing. Now’s not the right time to linger on the subject, but I thought while you were here, I’d ask since you would know more than me. I just wondered...you know, since Voldemort rose from the dead or whatever you call it that way, that maybe that left him vulnerable somehow that hadn’t been considered before.”
"You’re lying to me.” That could only signify that it was even worse than it appeared. Bending slightly, James gently, c a r e f u l l y ( lest he touch an injury unknowngly ) cupped her shoulder, eyes surveying over her form. “Are you bleeding from anywhere? You should sit down.” Moments like this he cursed his own ineptitude with potions. What good was he in times like these? Comforting words couldn’t physically heal anyone. He had a stash from Nadia that he kept for these kind of incidents. Scrambling around in the drawer for one, he ran his hand through Lily’s hair. “Have you already been treated?” She didn’t appear to be bleeding from anywhere, but for all he knew, there were bones broken or splinched. Lily would just grin and bear such pain if she felt she had something more pressing to take care of. With the way that the masquerade operation went, he could only begin to guess at what most plagued his sister’s mind.
Pick up your mess. Clean up all those shattered pieces, all those rotten flowers inside your lungs, all those cigarette ash on your lips, all those alcohol spills on your skin & tell other people the bravest thing you ever did: rebuilding thyself.
Rose buried their face in the scarf gratefully, inhaling the spiced scents of home before exhaling to warm up their nose. “Thanks.” They reached out for James’ hand, needing the physical link to remind them to stay in their body and not compartmentalize. They had to hold on to the constructive emotions, their rage and indignation over their family being torn at because it was the only thing that would eventually will them to their feet. They squeezed James’ hand through their gloves before dropping. “Did last night…did we accomplish anything?” Rose asked, knowing the likely answer before he gave it. While Ro was not physically present at the ball, instead remaining behind with others to provide a second wave or rudimentary medical help if needed, they still hadn’t heard about any casualties on the death eater side, any gains, just somber looks and injured friends.
James did Rose one better: he took their hand and tucked them close to him, wrapping an arm about their shoulders and offering them more warmth. Keeping check on his own emotions was a balancing act. To determine which to keep in dusting corridors of his mind and which to let himself express. He didn’t see emotions as a weakness, but certain ones were best kept at bay, such as guilt and shame. Mouth thinning into a line, James considered his response to their question. “I’m not sure how to weigh any accomplishments in the wake of what we lost.” Not only did they lose those that were being held captive, but once again, the shaky foundation of security that they’d had was now a pile of rubble at their feet. It was time to rebuild. Again. How many times could they start over? How many dead ends could they meet? “But tomorrow brings a new day. Darkest before the dawn and all that, right?”
“potter,” nadia’s tone would have been out of place, had they been anywhere but by themselves, lacking the malice that it ought to have; but james was her main point of contact in the order (certainly her preferred one, otherwise she was left to deal with his UNRULY little sister or some other tragically aggressive member of his family), and over time they had built a certain level of trust, if not…. camaraderie. “i did—-but i ducked out early enough to avoid the most exciting parts. i figured it wasn’t a place i’d like to be caught in.” most of the order knew her as a death eater, loyal to the cause and valuable for her skills in potion-making. the target on her back would have been too large for her to help the order in any way if she were to stay. “i was—-sorry to hear about your grandmother being taken.” she tried, eyes flitting over her shoulder for a moment to ensure they were still alone, “if it’s any consolation, while i don’t know where she is, y e t,” a unspoken promise that she would try to find out, “i’m almost certain she’s still alive. the dark lord likes to brag, and killing harry potter’s mother-in-law, well—-you know he wouldn’t be able to resist dangling that revelation somewhere that your father could find it.”
James had learned the value in taking a chance on people. In a world where a target was set on his back like a ticking time bomb ready to detonate at any given moment, perhaps it was foolish to do so. He had been burned before, more than once. He knew, logically, that there was a reason why Lily had insisted on Nadia taking an Unbreakable. But he also knew why he hadn’t been the one to push for such a thing before he had considered an alliance between them.
James knew few things in this life came with any amount of c e r t a i n t y save for the inevitable end of death. People were unpredictable ( himself included, not as bright and fair-minded as he may seem ), but he had come to consider them much like books. Each came with an ending, yes, some of their conclusions cut short and without any closure, but in between the lines, beneath the surface of the page, hidden in the words, there was meaning. Nadia Zabini was not someone who did something without any meaning tied to it. She was someone who preferred to keep that allusive certainty that James sought close to her chest. Could she ultimately still betray him? Of course.
But he was betting on her not doing so, because he could not see to what end she would do so. And it seemed mightily unfair of him to assume the worst of her lest he want she to do the same with him. He wanted her to believe in him and his sincerity. In order to extend that offer, he took the first leap and believed in her. He took the first step, and in the path thus far, he had yet to falter.
Nodding briefly, he considered Nadia’s words as the odd comfort that they were. There was no mask hidden in them. She spoke with her mind at the forefront. “You’re right,” he conceded carefully, even though he also knew that there was no reason for Voldemort to keep Molly alive. or any of the hostages. The Order didn’t have any leverage, and the Death Eaters weren’t known for their fair trade. “And I do appreciate your efforts, you know that, but I also don’t want this to be a reason for you to sidestep other purposes.” Did he want to find his grandmother and the rest of them? Definitely. But he was far from objective. “But if you do come across any information, you know how to contact me.”
That wasn’t, however, why he had decided to follow after her when he’d seen her. “I was wondering if I could possibly poke your brain a bit for your potion expertise?” He drew his hands down, a thumb falling into his jean pocket. “What do you know about regeneration potions?”
rose had spent most of the late morning clearing away the snow that had fallen in front of the wychwood house, eyes rimmed red from the brief moments they’d allowed themselves to cry over the capture of their grandma and mcgonagall, whose unparalleled wisdom and grit made her as good as. they sat on the porch, either not feeling the sting of the cold worming its way through the exposed skin of their face and neck or not caring, too despondent to move or cast a warming charm. the air was good, sharp and cleansing, the only thing at the moment that was keeping them grounded through their grief. other members of the O R D E R milled about in various states of injury, clearing the rubble and salvaging what they could from the shell of an inn, as small jinx-caused fires smoldered in their midst. rose sighed as another person approached.
“don’t try and comfort me right now, please.”
James was doing what he could to pick up the pieces. Of the house and of the shattered spirits of a great many in the Order. Approaching his cousin where they sat amongst the rubble. The chilled air was almost a soothing balm on his own skin, but he wasn’t about them succumb to frost-bite. Taking a seat next to Rose, he wrapped the scarf that he had brought out with him around their neck. It had been hand-knit by their grandmother. “Then I won’t,” James placated them, yet he couldn’t guarantee that would ultimately be the truth. “I’ll just keep a check on your physical health instead. Best that you not freeze your arse off out here, you know?” Becoming nearly numb to the chaos around them was to be expected, but that didn’t mean that James had to expect it. If they let themselves become absent of emotions, they may as well be the robotic slaves that the Death Eaters wished them to be.
it was cold, the wind almost stinging and nadia dug her hands further into the pockets of her cloak, shoulders raised with a tension that had been present for almost a fortnight. a crack behind her—someone stepping on a leaf, maybe a branch—alerted her to the fact that she was not alone, and she quickly ducked into one of diagon’s many side streets, wand already in hand as she turned to confront whoever happened to be behind her, “was there something you needed?”
Proceeding with caution was a necessity. It always was. Watching where he stepped, lest he land on a landmine. He arguably wasn’t as good at it as he perhaps should have been. The side street was lit only by a street light that was flickering in and out, and while James’ own wand was at his side, he didn’t lift it to either light the way or to ready himself for a duel. “Not so sure about need though there’s plenty that I want.” But it was continually uncertain how he could grasp much of anything. He glanced about, having taken a quick surveillance of the area before he’d approached Nadia. He was still working on a proper Map for Diagon Alley. “Did you end up attending the masquerade?”
so i just realized i never posted an intro for james so here’s some general, all over the place info on him. there’s also a mini about here. please note the warnings. they are vague mentions but still there. HIT ME UP IF YOU WANT TO PLOT ANYTHING? he’s open to all kinds of connections.
james exists a bit in shades of grey. he’s fundamentally against killing, though he concedes that sometimes it’s necessary in order to survive. but his goal is less about killing those that oppose the order and more about lessening the loss of life on both sides? he believes a lot in philosophical debate, and longs to understand the world around him even if it’s not a possible feat. this is why he’s open to hearing out the case of the other side with an open ear and open mind
james was sexually, emotionally, and mentally abused by a woman named isla hawkings from the age of fourteen to fifteen who was believed to be with the order but wound up betraying them. he doesn’t talk about it. it led to him having a very dark year when he was sixteen where he was very self-destructive. he was left empty and slept around to try and fill the void, drank a lot even though it only made him more depressed, and confided only in practical strangers because he knew they wouldn’t care about him. he lashed out against his parents who sought to help him and the only ones who he could try to spare any energy for were his siblings, but his hurt was far too obvious to truly hide. one day, however, he realized that he no longer recognized himself, and he didn’t want to live like that anymore. so he did the only thing he knew how without talking through his problems: he began to compartmentalize. his heart was weak and still bleeding, but he put a cork in it and crawled on his hands and knees until he could try and stand up again. he pushed all of his shame, guilt, and the entire relationship to the back of his mind to collect dust, and still hasn’t dealt with it. but it was the only thing he knew how to do. he let himself self destruct and he didn’t want to take anyone with him as he burned to ashes. but he did rise out of those ashes and come back stronger, even though he is now a far more subdued version than the boy with the loud and big personality that he used to be.
actually i’m going to make the rest of this just really short snippet bullet points to save us all time and effort ok here we go
indecisive af
validates everyone’s feelings but his own
actual fam and friends trash
carries the weight of the world on his shoulders even though he doesn’t have to
wears plaid flannels like they are going out of style ( newsflash james: they were never in style
always tired yet still wanders the streets at midnight
is rarely clean-shaven
puts everyone else first and often neglects himself
lacks ambition
never knows when to stop trying
the Grandpa Friend
compartmentalizes his bad emotions and lets his mind take the reins over his heart bc he thinks his heart is a burden??
lover of warm hugs
can be a bit self-righteous from time to time tbh
is definitely a lover rather than a fighter, but he will fight for love or turn himself into a fighter if that’s what people need him to be.
always is whatever other people need him to be tbh good thing that he’s ace at transfiguration
he’s also good at charms and can be very creative bc he was very curious about his magic growing up and experimented a lot since he couldn’t properly be taught
if he had been properly taught at hogwarts, however, he would have been a gryffinclaw hatstall that was ultimately sorted into gryffindor
will walk around his flat shirtless in the middle of winter
pumpkin trash ew. even has his own special pumpkin soup recipe
is a grade-a Mess. his life, his choices, his everything are as messy as his hair
Lily shrugged. “If I die, it won’t be from secondhand smoke.” she murmured, resting her weary head on his steady shoulder. This was a wretched way to be spending Christmas, a time that was meant to be festive. Not wasted spilling blood for an endless enmity. Not this. She could only hope that everyone would be fine, that she could go home to the shoddy Christmas tree in Grimmauld Place and bestow the presents waiting. She longed to sit by the fire and drink hot chocolate with her family – not just her parents, her siblings, her uncles, her aunts, and cousins but her fellow warriors. The Order was her kindred. And she loved them all. “How are you? Are you okay?” Safe in the fact that no one else was around, she addressed what was to come. “I know you don’t agree with this plan. But I promise you, I’m going to do everything I can to make sure no one we care about gets hurt in this.”
It was an off-handed comment, but the image created in his head was enough to momentarily steal the breath from the throat he was clogging with smoke. Secondhand smoke, no, but James could see all too clearly Lily suffocating from the smoke that emitted from a different, all-encompassing flame that spread like wildfire. He couldn’t help the pang of concern that he always associated with his sister. Swiping uselessly at the smoke, he angled his head to press a kiss to the top of Lily’s head of inferno red hair, his lips pursing in consideration. “And you remember you’re included in that list, right?” The sentiment was touching, and James knew how capable of a witch Lily was. He had watched as, over the years, the child that he had once lugged around in a wagon had morphed into a shield and weapon for The Order. “Do what you must, and nothing more than what’s necessary, okay? Your life isn’t something that I want to see sacrificed for this.” Lily’s judgment could be sound, but it could also be zoned in and honed in on fighting for the cause that her well-being could easily get caught in the fray. “I’m...fine, though. You know this isn’t my scene anyway. You feeling alright? Confident in your skills to kick some arse in heels?”
This wasn’t as fun as Roxanne had thought it would be; pretending to live like the other side, pretending like they belonged it was something that this Weasley craved. Being on the outside looking in wasn’t what she wanted for her life, which was why it was so important to her that they win. Winning meant her freedom; something most desired. She never expected the ball to be this… stifling. Hot. Boring. So she stepped outside, slipping through the shadows and clinging to the walls like she was on a mission, until the fresh air hit her face and she was safely out of those doors. Just for a few moments, so she could breathe. Roxanne never expected anyone to be out there with her, so she took a couple of steps back in surprise, glad that her mask didn’t reveal who she was in case it was a foe. “Actually,” she commented lightly, taking slow steps. “I was going to ask if I could bum one off you.”
James wasn’t meant for aristocratic society. He was far too much of a simple man to ever want to indulge in the pleasures of the lifestyle, even if the tides did ever change in their favor. He much preferred looser clothes that allowed him more breathing room, more freedom. He could never stand to be caged, no matter how golden or dressed up it was. James nodded his head, straightening his posture to reach into his pocket for his cigarette pack. Keeping ahold of his cigarette with his mouth, he grabbed an unlit one and handed it toward someone he supposed was a stranger. “They’re cheap,” he warned, the Rothmans brand displayed on the pack. Far as he knew, he was conversing with someone who cared about the pricetag that was associated with things.
elliot had always loved the winter time. mainly because it meant it was time to put on her favorite ballet: the nutcracker. oh, how she had dreamed as a little girl to spin around the stage as clara. it was her favorite of all the ballets and she vowed someday to preform it, to be a star. and if she kept up her pace, that day would be soon. elli loved to dance more than anything else. she hated to think of anything else. the world was so full of shit, but if she didn’t focus on that, she’d have what she wanted. which is exactly what she planned on doing. the girl faked a smile, then leaned against a pillar, sighing gently. the smell of snow made her happy. she eyed him, and rolled her eyes. ‘ are you a pacifist? ‘ she asked. she cared, but she also highly doubted that there were any true pacifists left in the world. war happened, violence happened, just like it had been happening for YEARS before they were born and would continue to happen for YEARS after they died. ‘ my lungs are perfectly pink from not smoking my entire life. not once, not ever. i have to have energy and stamina if i want to preform an entire ballet every night for months. ‘
A pacifist? In the traditional sense, James wished that he could be but he knew that advocating for the complete eradication of violence was a pipe dream, and he considered himself grounded in reality. That didn’t mean, however, that he believed that people should turn to violence at the drop of a hat. Minimizing violence wherever possible -- that was something that James could reach for. “I simply don’t think that violence should be our initial gut reaction to every situation,” James explained simply. “Plus, I’m looking out for my own arse in this situation. Quite literally.” Blinking slowly, he backtracked through the short conversation he’d engaged in with the woman, wondering what had triggered her to go into the tirade about her health. “I didn’t mean to implicate that you were anything other than healthy.” He tipped his cigarette to flick the ashes onto the ground. “But I would assume that your career choice would require that you be in peak condition, yeah. And that you have your fair share of dedication.” James knew minimal about dancing or the art of it.
elliot needed a breath of fresh air. being around a lot of people, dancing and twirling, with the scent of alcohol in the air was giving her a bit of a headache. honestly, she was just here to dance. her parents thought it was a good idea to connect socially. however, the girl just thought it best to just dance the night away and pretend that everything would turn out alright. a smile was on her face as she made her way out of the crowds. elli coughed when she blew in a breath of what she thought would be fresh air, but really ended up being smoke. she gave the other a look and walked past him, though she doubted it was effective with a mask on. there was no point in saying that smoking was bad for your health. he probably already knew that and didn’t care. ‘ fine, but blow smoke in my direction and i’ll put my heel through your foot. which i’d rather not do since these were expensive shoes. ‘
The winter air was crisp, and even though his favorite season was upon them, snow crunching underneath his boots, mustering up cheer was becoming harder and harder as time wore on. The smoke from his cigarette surrounded him with a fog that felt appropriate for the haze that had overtaken his mind lately. He needed to find perspective, focus, double his efforts now more than ever before. But there was a tug on his heart that told him he shouldn’t be here. Yet there was no other place for him, when all those that he held dear were in the manor, bracing themselves to participate in the planned attack. He couldn’t even know if the woman before him was meant to be a fighter or an unknowing victim in what was to come. That didn’t make it any easier. “Duly noted,” James conceded through a puffed exhale, turning his head to do as she requested. “No need to resort to violence, though, when there is plenty of space on this estate for you to occupy where smoke’s not an issue.”
Settling the cigarette between his lips, James curled his fingers around it, letting the pressure of the inhaled smoke built before blowing it out into a ring, letting the nicotine edge away the apprehension that was settling into his bones. Mask on like the rest to obscure his identity, James had to wonder about the appropriateness of this plan, how effective that it would even be. Yet he knew vocalizing any protest would have gone unheard. Not as if he could have come up with an alternate plan anyway. He’d slowly, over the years, begrudgingly accepted that war, by its very nature, was ugly. A pit full of grey. He remained as he was, a steady rock, his shoulders squared as someone joined him outside of the Malfoy Manor where he was leaning against a pillar. “You might want to take a few steps in the other direction if smoke bothers you,” he advised.
