James did this to himself; he had spent the past four months refusing to acknowledge himself feeling anything other than perfectly fine and now after nearly four months of going on as such it seemed as if people were finally starting to believe it. Were starting to leave him a little longer every week without the lingering looks of pity or asking how he was doing. But he had always been the type to purposefully put more and more on his plate whenever he felt life was getting too much to handle, refusing to stop and accept the fact that no one was happy or perfect one-hundred percent of the time. And of course Harry had been the only one who could ever talk any sense into him when he got like this ( the great OWLs breakdown of 2020 only one example of just how badly James relied on his father to keep himself sane ) but that wasn’t an option anymore. 

 Instead James could only laugh into the glass of firewhiskey he had been holding at his own memory of his teenaged self sobbing into the fireplace in the Hufflepuff Common Room, determined he would never make anything of himself. No one had been allowed to see the debilitating anxiety that came along with exam time but his father, who he was all but certain told his mother later. Now all he could do was plaster on a smile and try to guess what Harry would say before anyone else could catch onto the fact that anything was wrong in the first place. He’d probably tell him drinking his emotions away was the wrong way to deal with them. Then give him some old story to help him feel less alone. Just the concept of it sounded nice.

This year he was back  at the castle, working in what he had never even realized was his dream career until he had gotten into the classroom and everything had become more of mess than he could even comprehend. It made him wonder if this is what his parents had felt all those years ago, when they were even younger than James is now and things had begun to get bad like this. He downed the contents of his glass, waving to the bartender for another round before looking towards the figure who appeared next to him. 

“Whoever decided it would be a good idea to let me teach children is absolutely fucking bonkers. Could you imagine walking in for a butterbeer and seeing McGonagall stumbling across the bloody room every time she needed the toilet?” He turned slightly in his seat hiccupping slightly and throwing his hand up towards his mouth, eyes widening in shock. He only moved his hand again to grab the new drink next to him, swirling it around slightly. “You know I don’t...” he paused for a moment, struggling to find his next words. “I haven’t stumbled anywhere because I’m completely fine but hypothetically. You know?”