I Will Be Infallibly Me

Mikhail figured they could the tension in the room with a knife, but he couldn’t argue with it or say he didn’t understand. It brought him back to the first nights in the hospital after waking up from his coma. The constant expectation that something bad was going to happen and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. This time, maybe he could do something about it, but he had to play his cards correctly. “There is too much at stake,” he murmured, “Especially because we don’t know what they have or who they have. They could very well have infiltrated our ranks or that of the ministry already. It’s happened before and there is no reason to assume they couldn’t do it again.” He didn’t want to be alarmist, but Mikhail was the type to keep his eye out, he had to worry. He couldn’t keep himself from it. “I may need a day or two to get my affairs into order, but I would, in theory, be happy to accept the role you’re offering me. In return, I will give you my orders for what I would like done with my affects, assuming that I don’t make it out of this for any reason.” Mikhail had spent a long time fighting back against dark magic, he couldn’t back down now.

James took a shaky breath, nodding silently as he ran a hand down his face, holding his jaw. The distress was written in his expression, painting every agonized line drawn across his forehead that was crumpled in frustration. “I know,” he said, trying to hide the defeat in his voice. “Or... I don’t know. Which is the problem. We don’t know anything, or any amount of... infiltration they might have by now.” What use was hiding his defeat? He was a broken down, exhausted version of himself, and he was sure he couldn’t fool anyone, let alone someone as smart as Mikhail. James nodded, weighing the options. He hated the idea of anyone risking their lives on his command. But... wasn’t that what he signed up for? Didn’t leading a revolution come at this cost? So finally, he nodded. “I think that, right now, that’s the best course of action. As long as it’s your decision. As long as you’re alright with the risks. I’d be happy to take care of anything else that you need me to. In exchange for... for your selflessness.” 

Except the problem was that everyone who loved him knew him too well. Could see how little he was holding onto his sanity. He wanted to tell them how little he cared about his sanity when it came to his brother’s safety. But somehow he’d been talked into going back home. As if he would be able to relax. As if he didn’t spend the entire time he was supposed to be soaking his sore muscles writhing in anger at the world. As if, while he was getting dressed, his brain was swimming, treading water trying to figure out what to do with the realization that it was Arlo’s father who put Albus in the hospital. 

He came out into the living room, trying to put on a happy face before realizing his mask had been worn down by then. There was no point in trying. It was beyond saving. “Well,” he started, falling into the couch. “You can say you told me so. All of you can. I was wrong. I was stupid. I fucking... let everyone down. So go ahead. Tell me how right you were.” 

“Constantly in a gay crisis…think I’ll title my memoirs that,” Albus replied with a laugh.  He flashed his brother an honest smile, small and fleeting and so full of warmth and affection.  They understood each other a bit better than most, especially since James had come out.  Another bond they shared, another fragment that made them, them.  “Thank fuck.  Hard to explain that to Arlo otherwise.”

Albus hummed, taking the glass and knocking back a healthy swallow.  Fire and burn flew down his throat, and a comforting plume of smoke floated up; he blew rings as his listened.  He licked his lips and gave a slow nod.  This was a feeling he understood completely; he was wrestling it himself.

“We’re public figures as much as he is…don’t think he want’s to accept that,” he murmured, pulling a face.  The family were celebrities, in every sense of the word.  Press following, stories written about what they took for tea.  He scowled.  “I get a sense worry and need for protection, I just…Merlin we can’t go shrinking into the shadows!” He groaned and let his head fall to the back of his seat, raising a glass in salute.  “Oh I’m fucking dandy.  Feel awkward as fuck dashing off to a club while people want to string me up.  But I’ll be damned if some moldy old fucker in a white mask keeps me from a good time.” He scowled at the ceiling and raised two fingers towards the windows.  “I refused to be chastised for being me.” 

It was easier to laugh around Albus than anyone. He was struck again, as he had been repeatedly over the last few weeks, by how badly he needed his siblings. He’d always known, always been aware of how integral they were to his purpose on this earth. For a while, he’d been known publicly as a few different things. A brother, a Quidditch player, the cocky son of James & Ginny Potter... But as he lost his mantle of Quidditch player, and grew out of his cocky reputation, all he had left was being a brother. 

What was he if not a brother? He was defined by his relationships to other people. Who was he? 

Her head pressed to his chest, and all her fears slowly seemed to wash away for the moment. She had always felt safe around her brothers, and it was one of the many reasons she lived next door to James. He had been one of her biggest protectors for as long as she could remember, and she wished that burden wasn’t on his shoulders. She pulled away from him and met his gaze. “There’s nothing we can’t do, is there? We’ll be okay,” she said, wiping her stray tears away. However, she still felt that her brother was hiding something from her. She knew her brother well. With arms crossed over her chest, she looked him over for any signs he might be lying to her. Seconds later, though, he pulled her back into a hug. “You’re lying, James. Don’t think I haven’t figured that out.” His cheek was resting on her head, and her hands gently rubbed his back. “Talk to me.” She pulled away for a moment to glance up at him. “I would hope you’d hide behind me. I’m pretty scary. Death Eaters will flee at the sight of me.”

James chuckled dryly. His life would’ve been much easier on several occasions if Lily wasn’t able to read every emotion that painted his face. But then, where would the fun be in that? Wasn’t he lucky beyond measure that someone cared enough to unpack each line drawn across his face by anxiety? By the weight of being James Potter, and carrying that reality through his life day to day. “Lying’s putting it harshly, Lils,” he started, shaking his head with a chuckle. He sat down in the couch, patting the spot beside him. “I’m not lying. I just don’t want you to have to worry about me, too. Plain and simple. You do that enough as it is. I’ll be alright,” he promised. “Just as long as you two are. And that’s the truth. So you don’t have to worry about me, and I’m not lying. I just... have to try to remind myself that not everything... falls on me. But you know, that’s already more emotions an’ stuff than most people get. I promise I’m okay.” He tried to mean it. He laughed and smiled a crinkly-eyed smile at his little sister, rubbing his fist into her hair playfully. “Eh, depending on the day, I’d run the other way, too,” he teased. “You want anything? Tea or biscuits? What’ll make you feel better?” 

Harry sighed, shaking his head with a quiet laugh. It was true. If his children weren’t his children, they would never need to worry about attracting trouble Trouble would mean detention, or maybe an argument with an other half, a reprimand from a boss. To the Potters, more often that not, trouble meant a threat, serious danger, unknown enemies. Offering his son a tired smile, he wrapped his arms around him, resting his chin on his shoulder as he held him close. There wasn’t a whole lot he could do right now, but he could provide comfort. He was James’ father, that was his job. If he couldn’t keep him safe, he could make him feel safe at the very least. 

“Ah, yes. Stocks and bonds.” He rolled his eyes, withdrawing so that he could look at James properly, really try to gauge how concerned he should be. “How could I forget your hidden passion.” Laughing quietly, he threw his dust cloth down onto the table, gesturing towards the kitchen. “Come on, I’ll make you a cup of tea. It’s better to leave that Muggle nonsense to your brother.” He teased, his half-smile faltering almost immediately. This was what he was so afraid of, his children bearing the same burden as he was. The same burden he had carried throughout his childhood and teenage years. They were too young to be face with such responsibility. It pained him to think of what they were feeling right now. “James…” He became serious again, reaching up to push up his glasses, shifting on the spot as he tried to think of how to say what he wanted to say. “James, this is not your responsibility, okay? Promise me you know that? You don’t need to do anything. Nothing here is your responsibility. The only person’s safety you should be concerning yourself with is your own This is for me to handle and I’m doing everything within my power to make sure nobody can hurt you… please can you trust me? I don’t want you to carry this. I don’t want that for you.” 

James scratched the back of his neck, following him into the kitchen with a small frown on his face. He longed for the days that tea could fix all of his problems. For the days that tea and a nap and a story from his Mum pushed all the bad away. Now his body was aching and his mind was racing and he wasn’t sure anything other than a Sleeping Draught would slow down the fear running through his brain. He just wanted to know they would be okay. He would give anything if it meant they were okay. Sitting in the chair, he pulled one of his knees to his chest, resting his chin on his kneecap. He sighed as he felt his father grow more serious. More concerned. He hated when people were worried about him. After a lifetime of training himself to appear stronger than he was, it was hard to show the reality behind the mask. 

“Ah c’mon dad,” he started, pushing a hand through his hair. “I can’t possibly promise you that. I’m the big brother, Dad. I gotta be the rock for them. I’ve always tried to be. I just... I can’t imagine... if anything happened to either of them...” He shook his head, forcing himself not to picture such a thing. For some reason he’d always embraced the danger that came along with being a Potter. But never had he been made so violently aware of the fact that his siblings were in that danger, too. “I mean, how am I supposed to be that selfish? I can’t worry about myself until I’ve worried about everyone else. And whatever you mean by everything in your power... I just... why did you have to rock the boat like that in the first place?” He didn’t mean it, of course. He was lashing out because he couldn’t accept the truth. “Why d’you still want to change the world so badly?” 

Setting down the portrait of Remus and Tonks, Harry absentmindedly twisted the dust cloth in his hands. There was something about James that felt hesitant, that was so unlike the boistorous confident man he had raised. Merlin, he really was a man now. That was a terrifying thought. His children were always going to be children in his mind. “Check on me?” He laughed, offering him an easy grin. “James Sirius Potter, I do not need to be checked up on.” He was only teasing, of course. His tone making that clear. He wanted so badly to reach out and ruffle his hair, remind James that it was his job to care for him and not the other way around. Though he could get away with doing so when it came to Lily and Albus, he knew his eldest son would consider it a blow to his ego, so he made an effort to resist the temptation. “We Potters are always making the rounds.” He agreed, gesturing for him to move closer. “Come on- come and give your dad a hug. Are you going to tell me why you’re really here? You know you can talk to me.”  

James laughed, shaking his head with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I dunno, Pops,” he started, lifting an eyebrow. “I think we both know that I learned exactly how to get in trouble from you,” James finished. He crossed his arms over his chest, a self-comforting gesture, trying to hold himself together as if he wasn’t mildly unraveling. And maybe “mildly” was putting it... well, mildly. It was just that he wasn’t ready for this kind of pressure. He wished that the letter had only threatened him. He was the oldest, after all. Wouldn’t they, logically, want to take him out? Why were Albus and Lily targets? Why had they bothered to mention Arlo, as well? Why had his father done something that put such a bold, bright target on all of their backs? He sighed softly, wishing he wasn’t so tightly wound by fear, wishing that didn’t make it so easy to push him towards anger. He shuffled closer, wrapping his father in a hug. He held it for a moment, reminded of all of the things his father had faced in his life. Who was James compared to the Great Harry Potter? When he couldn’t even make it through a potentially inconclusive threat? But, really, why was he there? Did he want to yell at him? Maybe. Did he want to be comforted? Definitely. But he’d built up a wall too strong to be comforted by anyone but Arlo, and even then, he was struggling to admit to his boyfriend just how much he was struggling. “Eh, what else, y’know?,” he said with a shrug after the hug broke, plopping into a seat. “The Muggle stock market, of course.” A forced laugh, he bounced his thigh, the pain wracking his body overwhelmingly present. “I just... fuck, what am I supposed to do, Dad? How do we keep Lily and Albus safe? I don’t know what to do.” 

She didn’t expect to cry, and she hated to do it in front of others. Thankfully, it was just her brother. he was one of the few people Lily let her emotions out with. James pulled her into a hug, and Lily let herself break. She felt her body shake slightly as she collapsed against him. “We don’t know that yet.” She didn’t mean to think that worst right away, but she couldn’t help it. “You know it isn’t your responsibility to be the strong one,” she said, pulling away. Her voice cracked as she spoke. “I worry about you. I’m worried that you’re hiding how you feel from me.” She wiped her tears away. “You know you can always talk to me.” Lily moved back in to hug her brother and let her head rest on his chest. “I love you, you know.”

With Lily pressed against his chest, James was reminded of how important it was that he be strong. Despite her voicing that she was afraid he wasn’t being transparent with her (he wasn’t), he still didn’t have it in him to burden her with that weight to carry. She already carried so much for him, becoming a Healer to help him, becoming their neighbor because they couldn’t stand to be apart, accepting Arlo when he feared nobody would. The list went on. She deserved to be free of this. “You’re right,” he agreed. “We don’t know that we’ll all be okay. But I know that we’re the strongest family around. I know that we love each other ferociously, and that will count for something. We don’t know everything, but I’ll never doubt those things.” He gave her a half smile, shaking his head at her insistence that he share his feelings. “Ah, you’re worried for nothing, Lils. I know that I can talk to you. But I’m not hiding anything.” (He was). “I’m not being the strong one. I’m just being the big brother,” he tried to assure her. Immediately melting back into their hug, he smiled as he rested his cheek on her head. “I love you, too. More than you know. Besides, you’re the scariest of us all. You think I wouldn’t hide behind you if shit hit the fan?,” he teased. 

Albus looked at his brother as the door opened up and let his grin widen slowly.  Oh dear brother, drowning in whiskey.  Now there had to be a reason here.  “Really brother?  Please tell me it’s not a delayed gay crisis,” he teased, pushing into the flat and reaching for the bottle.  “Cause fuck, me too, my life is a gay crisis, hand it over.” Drinks were never a bad idea really.  

He huffed out a little and looked about, and flashing James a grin.  He didn’t get a chance to hang about with his brother all that often, not when he’d been at uni and James was well into his life.  “All alone?  Bad idea to find the bottom of the bottle by your lonesome, Jamie,” he teased with a little wink.  A spin on his heel and he dropped to a couch, smiling brightly.  

“Right, pour me in, share me with your woes.  It’s what I’m here for after all.  Commiserate!  Or ya know, we just sit around calling dad a wanker for telling us to hide.” He shrugged and smiled.  “Honestly, up for either really.”

What could he do but roll his eyes? He so rarely allowed people to see him in such a state. It seemed only natural that Albus, who so relished watching his life fall apart, he was sure, was one of the few to witness the downfall. “Albie,” he said, chuckling at the question. “We’re just constantly in a gay crisis. But no, fret not baby brother. Still as homosexual today as I was yesterday.” 

As much as he hated letting Albus in on the disaster he was behind closed doors, it was nice to be together. He’d been crumbling under the stress of his family facing danger. “Haven’t you caught on my now, Albus? My entire personality is centered around constant bad ideas. But sure, it’s my pleasure,” he grumbled, grabbing a glass for his younger brother. It didn’t hurt that he’d always been a heavy pourer. 

Arlo knew it wasn’t true. James always cared about whether people were looking to him for answers, namely because he was so afraid of not having them. But he wasn’t about to analyse his boyfriend when he was obviously feeling vulnerable. “James… you don’t need to say anything.” He insisted. “You just need to listen…” He wasn’t sure why he was still trying, it was very clear to him that James wasn’t going to give in. But he couldn’t help countering his reasons. He needed him to know there was no pressure on him to be perfect, not right now, not among family. 

Falling silent, hearing the sincerity in his voice, he knew what James was trying to tell him was important. Swallowing the urge to speak, he reached out hesitantly to take both of his hands, attempting to comfort him, to show him some form of support. It didn’t dispel his anger and frustration, but he refused to let his own emotion hurt the person he loved. “You really believe I don’t understand the need to be seen as separate from my family?” He asked. “You are somebody people look to, you told me yourself… you’re leading an army, James. But today isn’t about having answers. It’s about staying safe and listening to what your family have to say.” 

Withdrawing, he took a deep breath to calm himself. He wanted to stay angry but it was clear James genuinely hadn’t considered his words. He made no effort to justify them, and he felt the hurt drain from his body at the realisation. “I know…” He sighed. “I’m just - I’m scared, James. For you, for your family… for us.” Catching his eye, his heart still managed to skip a beat in the same way it used to when they were at school. Laughing quietly, the sound far closer to a sob than a mark of humour, he smiled. “I’m hardly a trophy, James Potter.” 

Feeling his hands on his shoulders, holding him steady, he hummed softly in response. “I don’t need to understand you to love you.” He murmured, leaning into the kiss without hesitation. His hands tangling in his hair, he kissed him back, with all of the love, and desperation he wasn’t able to put into words. “Just come home.” He said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “Just come home… okay?” 

If only he had the answers. Sure, Arlo said he didn’t need them. But fuck. He really wanted them. How could he call himself a leader when he longed to go back to bed rather than face a day full of fear and uncertainty. What right did he have to believe he could save the world when he couldn’t even save his own brother, sister, soulmate? Maybe he didn’t need to hold the answers for his family, but he still needed to. They may need him for different things, but how could he look himself in the mirror face the army he was supposedly leading, when he couldn’t even be good enough for his own family... 

He was spiraling, which was exactly why he needed to go to work. To do something right. To get some sense of not being an absolute embarrassment to his family name. To feel, even if it was fleeting, as if he wasn’t letting everyone down. He wasn’t. He knew he wasn’t letting them down. It would be nice, however, if his brain believed that. 

“How can I lead an army,” he started in a whisper, gently thumbing Arlo’s cheek. “When I can’t fix one problem? I just... I need a way to feel like I’m doing something right. I just need to do something right. Clear my head for a minute. Then I’ll listen to what my family has to say. Okay?,” he added, trying to smile at him before pressing another soft kiss to his lips, then a peck on the nose. Finally, a genuine smile. “You’re right,” he said. “Not a trophy. An impossibly delicious treat, rare, decadent, perfect. And all mine. But you’re no trophy. Trophies are made for cases. To be shown off. No. You’re no trophy,” he said, pulling Arlo’s knuckles to his lips for a gentle kiss. 

He felt the words that neither of them could say in their kiss. He felt what Arlo felt, and it pained him. He wished he was wired differently. But he wasn’t. And he desperately needed to do the right thing. “Arlo,” he said. “I promise. I will be back home. Home is wherever you are. So... as long as you’re here, I’ll come home safe every single time. Okay? I love you.” 

-

“Of course,” Mia responded. Sorry still didn’t seem like enough. But what else was she going to say? Man, you’re being threatened in the Daily Prophet along with your siblings? That sucks. There wasn’t really a proper answer, so sorry had to cut it for now. 

She nodded when he said he had no idea what to do. She would have no idea what to do in his position either. Especially since he was the oldest sibling. Mia was the youngest, so she was used to her brothers protecting her, not the other way around. Plus, he had Arlo, she hadn’t even properly dated someone. 

“Me?” She questioned, wondering what she could possibly say. “Besides, I’ve only got you beat on the pitch cause it’s my job to hit people,” Mia said, trying to lighten the mood. 

She shifted her weight back and forth from her right to left foot, staring out the corner of her eye, just trying to come up with something. “I think I’d just try and find a safe place…didn’t they mention your flat? Maybe going somewhere else for a while could be a good idea.” 

James chuckled, tried to keep it light. That was his job, wasn’t it? His role in life itself? He was supposed to succeed with ease. Happy and effortless in his ability to get whatever he’d want. But what he wanted in that moment, more than any other, was his family safe. And he had no idea how to keep it that way. So instead, he’d laugh it off, joke that he needed all the help he could get. Tease and pretend as if he weren’t terrified every moment he was awake. Even worse when he was asleep. 

“Hey,” he joked. “I could go for knocking a few people off their brooms right about now.” But Merlin forbid he dare step near a broom. He was so unstable at the moment that just looking at the brooms had him struck with fear. 

“But you know, that’s not a bad idea.” But then he thought of the nursery that he was preparing, the future they were building and memories they were making in that flat. How could he leave it? Even for danger. “I suppose it’d be easier if I didn’t have so much rubbish that I can’t stomach being away from. But that’s a good idea. Arlo would like it, I’m sure.” He laughed again. “Everyone thinks I’m just being stubborn,” James admitted. “I call it being practical. Can’t stop my whole life for one snag, right?” He didn’t know who he was trying to convince anymore. Probably himself. “But... thanks. For the apology. And for checking in. You aren’t a spy, are ya?,” he joked. Because what more could he do short of falling apart? 

More often than not, the days where Harry was able to take a break from work coincided with the days Ginny could either join him or work from home. But today was not one of those days. He was home alone, with only his thoughts and the mountain of paperwork hidden away in his desk, while she was at the Ministry, working on the latest Quidditch report and undoubtedly worrying too. He had wandered the house for a while, tidying here and there, doing the chores that were easy to forget about. Every window was shining, free of dust and fingerprints, as was every mirror and reflective surface. Though he had begrudgingly come to a halt at the table in the hall, an incantation dying on his lips as he stared at the faces of everybody he had lost. Anybody who knew him was aware of the fact that when he felt something was important, he would do it the Muggle way. And so he set down his wand, pulling the unused duster from the back pocket of his jeans, picking up a photograph of Remus and Tonks and carefully beginning to run the cloth over the glass surface, watching as both figures smiled up at him. His children were not going to end up on this table. He wouldn’t let it happen. So lost in his own thoughts, he jumped visibly as the front door opened. Nearly dropping the frame in his hands, he scrambled to catch it before letting out a breathless laugh. “Merlin, James-” He muttered, blinking tears from his eyes. “Don’t do that-” @ofjxmespotter​

James was beginning to lose his mind, if he was being honest. He thought this was what he’d been prepared for. He thought that this was what he was training for. But who was he against an army? What made him qualified? He was nothing but a little boy in an old man’s suit pretending he could do anything correctly. He didn’t know what to do, who to share these fears with. He’d become so good at seeming unbothered that shedding that layer of his personality seemed impossible, even in front of Arlo, who he trusted more than anyone in the world. So he was standing outside of his father’s doorway. After all, it was his job to help his children, wasn’t it? If he could allow himself to crumble in front of anyone, it would have to be him. He stood outside, debated on knocking. That seemed too formal. Walking right in seemed too... something. But then, why should today be any different than all of the days past? This had been his home for a long time. That hadn’t changed just because his address had. So he opened the door and walked in, witnessed his father scrambling to catch something. His heart ached when he realized what it was. What he wouldn’t have given to have met Remus and Tonks. Would he be like his father? A survivor among so few? He would rather die than lose his loved ones. “Hey dad,” he said, forcing a smile. “Came t’make sure... t’check on you, I mean. Seems we Potters are just making those rounds, no?” 

Un-Potter Like - Albus & James

Albus banged a had on his brother’s door, waiting in the corridor for an answer.  It was almost like a bed check what he was doing, knocking about to make sure James wasn’t off being a Potter; because really, that headlong into danger things was genetic, right down to the bone.  He gave a huff and kicked at the door with a boot, almost baring his teeth.  He didn’t want to be doing things this way.  He honestly wanted to be out in Oxford, chatting up someone or dancing or just being in a late night space and relaxing.

But he was being good.  He was trying to be responsible, even if all he really wanted to do was give in and frolic.  And he also didn’t really believe that his brother wouldn’t be off doing something insane.  So he was here.  Making sure everyone was OK.  

So maybe those lessons from the muggles were getting to him.

“Brother mine, open the fucking door or I will blast this thing off it’s hinges!” he snapped, crossing his arms tighter about himself and scowling at the handle.  

@ofjxmespotter

James wasn’t particularly great at anything. Except, maybe, pretending he was great at everything. He was okay at being a big brother, he always wanted to be better. He was alright at being a boyfriend, every slip up, every fight, convinced him more of how much better Arlo deserved, but he was too selfish to let him go. He did his best at being a leader, but even then - was he really one worth following? 

But then again, maybe all this self-loathing would go away once he felt like he could do something right. At least one thing. 

Well, he was nursing that bottle of Firewhiskey pretty well. At least he could do that right. 

“They’re coming along great. I might actually have one for you to test out soon if you’re up for it.” James’ health had become a main concern of hers since she first started her career. However, she was quick to turn their conversation back to him. “You’re avoiding my question, James.” She was quick to call him out, and she had been since they were little. “Now, answer my question, please.” She let her shoulders relax and she felt her eyes welling up with tears. She couldn’t remember the last time she cried. “James, I’m scared.”

How could he possibly answer her question when the response was that he was, quite frankly, scared shitless. He couldn’t admit that to his baby sister. It only became harder when he saw the tears well up in her eyes. His heart broke, and he was sure she had to have been able to hear the crack from across the room. He couldn’t stop himself from rushing across the room, pulling her into a tight hug against his chest. His mind raced, looking for the right answer. He settled on his default, protective and desperate to save the day. “Lily, you’re going to be okay. It’s alright to be scared. I... I think we all are, right now. I think if we weren’t, it’d be a little concerning.” He ran a hand up and down her back, patting it gently. “I’m okay. I’m just... trying to keep you guys okay, too. We’re all going to be fine. I’ll... I’ll do anything to keep that true.” 

Holding his tongue when James insisted he wasn’t mocking his father, Arlo waited patiently, carefully watching his boyfriend to try and gauge the emotion behind his response. Was he scared? Frustrated? Angry? He didn’t know, and he hated that. “James…” He said quietly. He debated pointing out that he could show how grateful he was for that love by humouring his family and attending the meeting. But he somehow knew that wouldn’t be taken well. “Your family needs you more than you can even begin to know.” 

He had witnessed it first hand, been shocked, and alienated by just how much the Potters cared for each other. Aside from novels, and stories overheard at Hogwarts, he had no way of knowing what a family was supposed to be, why and how his family differed from others. Being thrown head first into so much love and affection had been entirely overwhelming. Of course, he shared in that now. He was a part of that, something he still found difficult to believe on occasion. “James, I promise nobody is looking to you for an answer to their problems. They just want to make sure you’re safe-” He broke off, swallowing a bitter taste in his mouth. 

“You don’t mean that.” He said, an edge creeping into his voice. “How can you say that? I- I know these people, James. These are the people who- who essentially tortured me and you want them to find you?” He couldn’t hide how hurt he was. The fact that he could be so casual, so trivial about his abusers, made him feel smaller than he had in a very long time. And then James was taking his words back. I’m kidding. Playing them off as a joke. “How funny.” He snapped, unable to help himself. “I know you are more than the son of Harry Potter. You are always going to be James to me- before anything else. But you have nothing to prove by going to work today.” 

He could feel how desperate James was to be understood, but that didn’t help to ease his anger, it didn’t help to win his sympathy. He knew as well as his boyfriend did, that he couldn’t… wouldn’t make him do anything he didn’t want to. Though he refused to deny how much he wanted James to come with him to his father’s house. “I don’t understand.” He said, his voice barely louder than a whisper as he resigned himself to losing the battle. “But you know I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do.” Setting his jaw at the mention of his own safety, he blinked tears from his eyes. “They don’t want me, they want you, and Albus, and Lily. Just- I’m going to see your father today. If you won’t be joining me, the very least you can do is promise me you will take this seriously? Promise me you will stay safe.” 

"I don’t care if they aren’t looking to me for an answer, Arlo,” he tried to insist, wishing that he was better at explaining the things he felt. It was something he couldn’t remember not struggling with. Putting the feelings into thoughts which then turned into words, it was all part of a process that he wasn’t very good at. He longed to be better. “Until I know what I’m going to say to them, I don’t want to face them.” It didn’t make sense, his dangerous stubbornness. But he didn’t want to rely on his father for the answers. He didn’t want to go back in time to the days he was a child, children in school saying he must have everything he wants because his father was Harry Potter. His dad must provide everything. They thought that everything he was, he was because of his father’s name. He wasn’t. He spent his life breaking beyond that shell. He wouldn’t go scurry beneath his father’s all-knowing shadow just because times were tough. But then, weren’t those the words he was trying so hard to find? 

Yes. They were.  So he repeated them out loud. “I... I’ve spent my whole life being more than the life my father gave me. The answers he found for our family. I don’t want to be back at square one with that. Not when I want to be someone people look to for answers. I just don’t have the answer to this yet, and I need a minute to think about that.” His thoughts were nicer in his head. Made more sense there. He only hoped that Arlo knew him well enough to know what he was attempting to explain. 

He saw Arlo’s anger build up in his chest, his shoulders, before it passed his lips, and he sighed at his own choice of words. He should’ve known better. He knew this was a touchy topic, one that required much more thought to be put into his words than he’d applied. “I’m sorry,” he said instead of fighting it. What was there to fight. “I didn’t mean it that way, I meant, like, in general, I’d rather not live in fear. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it in this case specifically. I should’ve chosen my words better.” 

He tried to soften his energy, but he was so terribly on edge he doubted he’d be all that successful. Still, he offered a smile, and a sympathetic nod. “I have you to come home to, do I not?,” he asked, putting a hand on either of his shoulders. “I wish I could make my brain make more sense... in words. To help you understand. But I promise that I’ll be safe.” He pressed a soft kiss to Arlo’s lips, brushing a thumb against his jaw. “Got too much to lose to be reckless.” 

Mikhail had been surprised to receive a note from a Potter child that wasn’t Lily, but he figured if James was contacting him, then it was important. The older male walked into the pub indicated to him with his head down and an illusion charm cast over his face. While the meeting may not be a big deal, if he were about to receive important information, he didn’t want people to be able to link him and James that night. For the safety of himself as well as the entire Potter family. Mikhail was fairly identifiable after all.

“You don’t need to stand for me James, I’m not that important.” That was as close to a joke as Mikhail knew how to give, though it fell even more awkwardly into the tension between them. He knew the tension was not related to the relationship, or lack thereof between them, but because of whatever it was James brought him here for. Mikhail listened with a stony expression, having let the illusion charm fade, until James was done. “We do, I agree,” he nodded, “I suppose it depends what you want. I don’t suggest retaliation because as threatening as this is, nothing has been done yet. You do need information, so are you suggesting spying?”

James’ jaw tensed, nodding as he sat back down, clearing his throat to relieve some of the tension inside his chest. Since the news article was released, it had felt as though someone had been sitting on his chest. A constant, unending pressure that woke him at night. He was used to pain, could let the searing, burning ache in his bones fade to the back of his mind when it flared up. Had almost become accustomed to it. He wasn’t, however, used to, or at all able to handle the feeling that he couldn’t possibly fill his lungs. That something, fear, anxiety, whatever it was, was blocking his oxygen. 

So he did the only thing he knew how to do. He sucked it up and started fixing things. Or... trying to. His father had an idea of how to fix things, but there had to be more, and the man sitting across from him knew more than James about tactics and strategy. “No, no retaliation,” he agreed, nodding with Mikhail. He enjoyed the idea. Strike first. But then they would strike back, and there was far too much on the line here. Running a hand down his tired face, he looked thoughtful. “Yes.... that’s what I was thinking as well. It seems like the only possible option, at least the only one with a chance of being successful. That’s... part of why I brought you here,” he said, taking a deep breath. “But I can’t... ask you to do that just for my family. I can’t be selfish like that,” he said, wishing he were wired differently. He longed to be willing to ask people to risk their lives for him, his family. Life would be much easier if he could. But there always had to be something in the bigger picture.  “If you want to, or... if you think it would be useful for other reasons, then... you’re the only person I would trust this with.” 

Mia shook her head, her blonde waves sticking to the side of her sweaty face. She usually went straight to the showers after practice, but figured this was a good time to catch James alone. She didn’t like having these types of interactions in front of lots of people. Couldn’t tarnish her reputation as the resident badass who enjoyed when she gave someone a broken arm on the pitch. But she really liked having James as a coach. They weren’t far apart year-wise at Hogwarts and it gave her a little sense of that on Puddlemere. 

She nodded as he spoke, leaning against the wall. She couldn’t imagine something like that happening to her family. They weren’t an extraordinary family. Her father was an auror and her mother was a journalist, nothing exciting. The most extraordinary thing that ever happened to them before she started Hogwarts was when they moved to England. 

“I’m sorry, James,” Mia said softly. “I’m sure everyone else has said it and it doesn’t help, but I am sorry. I can’t imagine what it was like if my brothers got threatened.” Even though she was the youngest and had three older brothers who were all overprotective, Mia would do anything for them. “And yeah, Arlo.” She had never loved someone enough to protect them like she did her family. “Do you know what you’re gonna do?”

He shifted uncomfortably On the balls of his feet, and scratched the back of his neck. He wasn’t used to these kinds of conversations. And certainly not with someone whose respect he needed desperately. Not that emotions would negate respect, it’s just that the image he fought so hard to show the world, certainly wasn’t one that openly worried about the safety of his loved ones. wasn’t it embarrassing enough that he was constantly stuck on the sidelines? Trapped there by his own brain, by his own body.

But, instead of voicing all of this concerns, he smiled and he nodded. He kept quiet, bowed his head, looked appreciative. He did all of the things that someone in his position would be expected to do. He hoped he was doing the right thing. Listening, being grateful, not showing too much fear. But with that said, he had no idea what the right thing to do was. What is the protocol when the only peopleyou love are being threatened?

“Thank you, Mia,” he started. That was a good place to start. He shrugged. He had no idea what he was going to do. Didn’t even know how to accept that he had to do something. “Honestly? Not a clue,” he admitted. “Just... whatever I need to to keep ‘em safe. What would you do if you were me? Siince you’ve got me beat on the Pitch, you’ve probably go one up on me here, too.”