Y nada malo nunca pasó 😭
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Y nada malo nunca pasó 😭
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Lily Evans appreciation post cause we don't give her the credit that she deserves and she deserves it all.
Summer 1971–James
[Prev: Lily]
“James! Honestly!” Euphemia Potter scolded.
Even from the soaring height of the broomstick he’d dragged out of his father’s shed, James didn’t miss the glimmer of pride in her eye as he dove at a reckless speed, hand outstretched. With a triumphant whoop, he plucked a shining red apple from the very top branch of the orchard tree and wheeled upward again, juice already running down his chin as he bit into it mid-flight.
It tasted like summer—eleven summers spent under the golden southern sun, his charcoal hair perpetually unkempt (“Practically permanent—comes of all that time on a broomstick, Jamie!”). The great tree stood at the heart of their garden, one of the few shady spots for a snooze or for pretending he’d been reading his primary school spellbooks—or both. It was no ordinary tree, of course: it grew every variety of apple at once, thanks to a clever germination charm performed years ago by his father, Fleamont. Euphemia could never choose a favorite, so Fleamont had made sure she wouldn’t ever have to.
James thought it was the sort of thing only the greatest wizard he knew would do—for her, his mother, and just because he could.
Of all the summers James had spent at the Potters’ summer house in Cornwall, this one was different. This one was special. Soon, he’d be off to Hogwarts—the finest wizarding school in all of Britain. In all the world, if you asked James.
Or anyone who mattered.
He dove again, the thick summer wind tearing through his hair, through the grin stretching wider across his face as he imagined everything waiting for him. Some things were obvious: he’d be sorted into Gryffindor, of course—just as his mother and father had been decades ago. He’d be captain of the Quidditch team, and of the dueling club, and Head Boy, and anything else his father had ever managed—and more.
He’d meet the love of his life there: a beautiful, kind, pure-blood witch with lovely flowing hair, just like his Mum. Together they’d have dozens of wizard children. Sons, if James had any say in the matter—enough to make up his own Quidditch team, with spares for the bench.
At eleven, James Potter was already quite certain of many things for himself. Chief among them that he was destined to be the golden boy of Gryffindor. Perhaps all of Hogwarts. Although academics might be a squeeze—his schedule would be packed with all those clubs and titles and accolades. No bother, though. He’d happily give up top marks to another Gryffindor, or even a Ravenclaw. Perhaps even a Hufflepuff, if they had it in them.
But a Slytherin? Never. He’d never met one… but he was also certain he’d despise them.
James’ certainty wasn’t all his own. He’d been told, again and again, that greatness was his due. He was a Potter, for Godric’s sake! And that was not a title he intended to take lightly.
Just as he soared upward again, beelining toward the sun, hazel eyes wide and wild behind a pair of charmed sungoggles—he spotted it.
“Mum! Dad!” he squealed, torpedoing back toward earth. “An owl! Mum! Dad! A Hogwarts owl—my Hogwarts owl!”
It felt like a race. It practically was one. James leaned forward, gripping the broom tightly as he rocketed toward the lush grass below. Just behind him, a great snowy owl swept down, parchment clutched in its beak.
Just as expected, James won—somersaulting off his broom and landing neatly on his feet. He thrust out an arm and the owl alighted on his bicep, dropping the letter into his palm before giving him a sharp nip on the wrist.
“Ouch—greedy pig,” James smirked brightly, ruffling the bird’s feathers. He dug into the pocket of his shorts, producing a handful of pellets, which the owl accepted before wheeling back into the sky.
“Let’s see it, darling,” his mother coaxed, hand outstretched.
James clutched the letter to his chest. “But—I want to read it first, Mum. Can I? Please?”
“Jamie,” his father chided fondly, amusement tugging at his mustache. “Let your mother see. She’s been waiting for this day just as long as you—longer, really. Not every day your first and only son gets his Hogwarts letter.”
James groaned but relented, pressing the letter into her hands. He’d been waiting eleven years for his Hogwarts letter. Not his fault it had taken so long for his parents to have a child. Shouldn’t he be rewarded for following in their footsteps? He was their little miracle, afterall. Their golden boy, their—
“Soon to be a Gryffindor, I just know it!” Euphemia burst out, throwing her arms tight around his shoulders, the unrolled letter forgotten and crumpled between them.
“Mum, you’re crushing me,” James grumbled, though his cheeks burned with delight as he burrowed into her embrace. A glance at his father showed glistening eyes, tears of joy brimming and unshed.
At last Euphemia drew back, holding him at arm’s length as though to memorize his face. One hand came up to cup his cheek, thumb brushing across the sun-kissed skin.
“Our perfect little lion,” she whispered.
Blackinnon friends to lovers?
Nah, its friends to drunk hookup to oh shit I actually care about this person now.
i’m 100% certain the only reason sirius black didn’t burn the whole world to the ground after marlene mckinnon’s dead, the love of his life’s dead, was the fact that suddenly his godson, the son of james potter, his one true soulmate (platonic or not, idc), was in immediate danger and he would’ve done anything to protect him, including swallowing his own grief.
you cannot convince me otherwise.
@fluffbruary Day 9
Harry was home.
Lightheaded relief filled her entirely, and even her son seemed to settle against her stomach. She laid a hand on it, trying to breathe through the sheer joy of having her husband back home safe. She knew he had to do it, she loved him for it, and she supported him through it, but it was still a nightmare every time he left for more than three days, especially when he couldn’t communicate.
Harry came to the couch, pale as a ghost, the lost expression he always had after a particularly bad mission fading away as he caught sight of her. Ginny beckoned him over imperiously.
“Dada!” Jamie cried, waving his fat little fists around. Harry picked him up and spun him around, his entire face softening.
I've read a lot but your Sirius - Harry dynamic is my favourite.
You make Harry Sirius's whole world but at the same time not a friend figure like many. Sirius is a parent and does the tough thing when needed.
So I wondered if you'd be keen to write thoughts/micro-fic on a Sirius reaction when Harry runs away just like in POA when Peter escaped. In this scenario Sirius has been raising Harry since Oct. 81!
Thank you!
I’m so glad you love my Sirius and Harry dynamic.
I will never understand the people who think Sirius was a bad or immature godfather. Like homeboy lived in a cave and ate rats to be near Harry just in case he needed him. Sirius always treated Harry maturely, taking the time to explain things. He never acted like Harry’s friend. He always acted like a parent. I really wonder if people are reading the same books. Don’t even get me started on how people think Remus Who Abandoned His Kid Lupin would have made a better godfather. You mean the guy who never even contacted Harry nor told him his relationship with his dad upon meeting him? The one who never contacted him after Harry legit watched his godfather die to check in? Please, tell me what makes Remus a better choice for godfather. I’ll wait.
I’ve never thought about that scenario before. It’s hard for me to think of a reason why Harry would run away (even though I wrote that in Fleawindinkle but is it really running away if he just hangs out next door??) I guess I could see Sirius being overbearing and ultra helicopter-y about the situation and that may annoy Harry. I’m not sure. I’d have to think on it a lot more.
This is exactly what I imagine!
☆ wedding blues ☆
platonic blackinnon, jilly wedding
︵ ︶︵ ︶︵ ︶︵ ︶︵ ︶︵ ︶︵ ︶︵ ︶︵ ︶︵ ︶︵
The night was warm, truly a perfect summer night. Marlene found herself on the small balcony. The wedding of James and Lily Potter was taking place at Potter Manor. The house was big enough to fit all of their closest friends. And since times were chaotic and dark, the wedding was happening sooner rather than later.
It was beautiful. The whole day was beautiful.
And Marlene had enough. Some time ago, she slipped outside with cigarettes in one hand and a half-full bottle of wine in the other. She sat down on the ground, pulling her knees close to her chest, resting her chin on top of them. The warm summer wind blew from time to time as the half-moon was shining above her.
"There you are, I was looking for you", Sirius announced as he stumbled into the small space. As he opened the door, loud music filled the air for a second.
She nodded her head softly but didn't acknowledge him further. He plopped down on the floor next to her, his movements a little sloppy. The door closed, and silence fell on them once again.
Marlene wasn't sad. She shouldn't be sad. She had no right to be sad. One of her dearest friends was getting married. She should be happy for her. Because Lily and James were in love. The beautiful kind. The kind people only found in fairy tales. Maybe if James were a different type of guy, Malrlene would have more room to complain. If he were one of those stupid pricks who bothered Marlene so much, she would tell Lily not to marry him.
reminder that James constantly asking Lily out is a headcanon
A Stag Without a Doe
He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he avoided her gaze. “Yeah, I know, Lils. It’s just… I thought we’d be done by now. That we’d be out there fighting, not hiding.”
Lily lifted herself slightly so she could look him in the eye. Her emerald gaze held a mix of determination and sadness. “We are fighting, James. Just in a different way. Keeping Harry safe, keeping us safe—that’s the fight right now.”
The next chapter of my fanfiction on James raising Harry is now live. Go check it out and please leave a comment <3
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