a heart as loud as lions

“what? —-no, i specifically said i want both muggle and magical photography done. lance has family that will want to have the photos in their house and they can’t very well show their friends moving pictures, can they? i—-no, i don’t care what you have to do, i’m paying you to make sure i have exactly what i want at my wedding, am i not? —-perfect. i trust you’ll take care of it.” nadia turned back to the person who’d been trying to get her attention, “sorry about that—-”

James waited patiently for Nadia to finish up her phone call, knowing that she would see to it that her wedding went without a hitch, lest someone want to face her wrath. “No, no, you’re fine.” He gave a dismissive wave of his hand, pleased by the lengths that she was going to ensure that Lance’s family be included. “I was just wondering if you needed any assistance with the charm work on the decorations? Or, well, that is assuming that Lance’s family that is coming knows about the magic?”

“Drag me further,” Anna griped as she splayed herself out on a patch of grass. “Do you want an arm, or an ankle? Take your pick,” she extended them both for the taking. She craned her neck towards the ferris wheel once more, letting her appendages come down to rest with a sigh. “Because fuck things happening organically,” she huffed, but flicked her gaze back towards James in search of a reaction. She perked up when he started walking, and scrambled to her feet when the challenge was issued. “Bring. It. ON. Race you there!”

A puff of laughter vibrated through his chest before gaining volume at Anna’s silly, joyous antics. It was as if the laughter, however momentary it might be, had lifted a weight off his chest, if only for the evening. “I much prefer the organic approach. I’d rather skip on all the fake bullshit.” The illusions of love and what it should be were quite different from the real thing, he believed. Bracing himself to begin running, and to begin a losing battle against a Quidditch player on a broom when he was not the best flyer. “You are ON, Moon. Loser has to buy the next round of pumpkin juice. Or butterbeer or whatever it is that you want to drink.” Through his speech, he was already conceding the race. 

Sprinkling cinnamon onto the hot chocolate, James lifted up the piping hot glasses before joining his family at the table that they had gathered around. Halloween wasn’t quite up there with Christmas for them, but it was appropriate, he thought, that it be a time for family all the same. It was a time that was marked with death for the Potter family and instead of letting the day approach with somber reflection, James was glad that they were spending it with more jovial festivities. 

❝ You’ve dragged me this far, but I am not going on the ferris wheel – that thing reeks  – in a good way – and we both know what that means. how about bumper cars?? ❞

"Dragged? You having that bad of a time?” James teased before tilting his head toward the direction of the ferris wheel, wrinkling his nose. “Why can’t people just let things have their own sort of magic. Bumper cars it is.” He turned his body around to face Anna, walking backward, his lips playing at an impish smile. “So long as you don’t mind me demolishing you.” The arrogance was a farce, but there was nothing wrong with a little, healthy fun competition. 

As soon as the door closed behind him, Isabella paid for her drink and got off her seat. The knot in her stomach was still there - she pictured James Potter as a teenager in his Gryffindor uniform, walking through the corridors of Hogwarts. While she opened the door once more, all those thoughts vanished; she had learned long ago that there should be no room for memories. Whoever she had met in the past would stay there - Isabella couldn’t afford to care about anyone. Seeing the boy’s silhouette not so far from the pub, she took quiet steps as she walked behind him, counting on her dark cloak and the street’s dim light to keep her discretion.

They were almost out of the alley and into the commercial part of the village, where it was too far for him to run the opposite way; Isabella knew that there wouldn’t be a better opportunity. Taking her wand from her pocket, she turned into dark fog only to reappear in front of the boy a few seconds later, blocking his way out. The cold feeling still hadn’t left her chest. “Hi there, James,” she said softly, cocking her head to the side a little as she offered him an acid smile. Isabella twirled her wand between her fingers, her eyes flicking from the wooden handle to the man in front of her. “I saw a student party going on nearby. Is that what you’re here for?”

James was on the track to Nadia’s shop. He had planned on transforming into his animagus form once he was further away from the street lights and out of the prying eyes of those around him. Being cornered wasn’t part of the plan, and he squared his shoulders, coming to an abrupt halt as the form flashed in front of him. It wasn’t the first time that he had been trailed by a Death Eater, but most only intended to taunt. Much like Isabella seemed to be doing, yet it was clear she was after more than just that with the wand that she had grasped in her hand. She was playing with her wand as she probably planned to toy with him. The familiar greeting she gave was unwelcome, as if they were just two old schoolmates. 

Isabella walked through the empty streets of Hogsmeade, her long black cloak protecting her from the cold breeze. It was a simple mission, one that she did all the time; someone was a threat to the Death Eaters, so she was sent off to kill them. At this point, she was no longer the scared child who could barely raise her wand at anyone — that girl had died many years ago when she took a life for the first time, and something much darker had taken her place. In the name of being honest, Isabella still couldn’t tell who she was now. 

Her hand pushed the door delicately and she entered the pub. It was almost empty, except for two people: a skinny, tall boy sitting on a table in the corner who widened his eyes and left through the back door as soon as she walked in, and a dark-haired man with a familiar face that sat by the counter — the one she was there to kill. When she was able to recognize him, a cold feeling spread across her chest; killing people she used to know was something she did often, but even if she wouldn’t admit it, those were the ones that formed knots in her stomach. Isabella took off her cloak and sat one seat away from him. The bartender approached her. “Butterbeer, please?”, she asked with a sweet smile. Glancing at her target, she noticed that he seemed a little distracted. Luckily for him, she wasn’t in a hurry. @tiredshouldered

James had ducked out of the birthday party early once a bunch of Hogwarts students began to pile in. He had sought refuge in Hogsmeade, lingering for awhile as he sipped on some gingerale. The bartender had asked him a few times if he was sure he didn’t want anything stronger -- that old temptation was bubbling up in his stomach and his eyes lingered on the tall glass containing a Daisyroot Draught that he had caved and bought. His fingers curled around the glass, flexing before he released it and grabbed the ginger ale. He should contact Nadia. She would likely still be up. Trying to let his focus drift from the war was only letting his mind wander where it shouldn’t. 

life had, in recent years, been good to nathaniel tuft. after hogwarts, his time spent quietly gathering intel for the death eaters paid off as the war swung in their direction, and although it was by no means won, he currently enjoyed a cushy ministry job near the top of the food chain that would, inevitably, lead him upward on a path to—hopefully—the position of minister itself. in a way, he had james potter to THANK for that. his naivety (or maybe apathy) during fifth year and inability to discern who he should trust (his family) versus who he shouldn’t (nate) had resulted in a years-long ‘friendship’ or sorts that culminated in much of the invaluable information that helped nate end up where he was now—-and without a shred of evidence to put him away. at the cost of revealing his true colors, however, was one of his favorite pastimes—-messing with james—-so when he had the chance to, he took it. “late night, jamie? you seem a little off your game—and we all know how poorly that can end.” nate didn’t take a seat; preferring to remain standing in case james’ temper was really on edge today, “i was telling you—-the minister wants to see your department head, she needs an update on your projects—think you can tell him, or will i have to send a memo?”

Mornings were hard enough without having to bite back a bitterness that didn’t come from the coffee in his hand. Swallowing thickly, James pursed his lips forcibly, squaring himself to be on the defensive. The bitterness, he could handle. It had been his own fault, after all, that he had set himself up for a betrayal that he should have seen coming had he not been in such a foggy mental haze. Facing Nate would be easier if the aftermath had affected only him. His own hurt was easy to contain. Guilt, however, chipped away at the compartments in his head where he kept his emotions in check. Shame was a soul-eating emotion. Locking his jaw, he refused to take the bait. Nate didn’t deserve his position. His brother should be in Nate’s place. ( And Kingsley Shacklebolt should still be in the Minister’s seat. ) Taking a stand, he took a step forward to minimize the distance between them. He disregarded most of Nate’s inquiries. “Send out that memo. Short of you attempting to Imperio me,” Which wouldn’t work, James had steeled his defenses greatly since he had fallen victim of Veritaserum, “You’re going to have to actually do your own job. Not that I expect you to know much of anything about putting in any honest effort in what you do.”

“you’ve held your own in karaoke more than once, jamie, but fine.” annette teased with a smile, eyes lighting up as she laid eyes on the gift he’d brought her. obviously she’d have been happy with just a visit, but she was never one to pretend that a present didn’t excite her. quickly pulling the wrapping paper off, her smile softened into something a bit more sentimental but no less excited, “james!” annette lifted the lid on the jewelry box, letting out a muted squeal as she noticed all the effort that he’d put into her gift, and she reached out to pull him into a hug, “this is SO amazing, i love it—-thank you, jamie. ry’s going to have a hard time topping this!” still smiling, and still holding on to him, she looked up at him with her most winning look, “are you coming to the party at rhys’ place tonight? for nat and i?”

"You have no evidence of said occurrences, right?” James quipped in turn, eager to see her reaction to the gift. He had poured in a lot of effort and it had been a needed reprieve in a lot of ways. It had been different, using magic to create something for someone that he loved. He had needed that kind of reprieve, that reminder of what they were all fighting so hard for. When her joy became evident, James’ own smile widened in turn, returning her hug gently. “Are we in some kind of competition? Ryder’s a creative bloke, I’m sure he’ll think of something. But I’m glad that you like it.” He had, after all, been there to watch the Austen films plenty of times with her before. With a subtle nod, he answered, “I’ll stop by, sure. Is it going to just be the normal crew?”

“My poor son, working far too hard and while it’s the typical Potter work ethic to run yourself damn raggedy, I won’t have it, eat, eat, drink some coffee, do you want me to get you a cuppa too, dear??” Lifting a hand to James’ cheek, she smiled, trying to get him to focus, and trying to look him in the eyes. To see what was going on behind her son’s beautiful face of bravery he wore every day. He was just like his father in so many ways – something she was especially reminded of because of the glasses he adorned today. “You look so much like Harry today, I know Albus gets that more than you do but … shall I take a picture and send it over to him to tell him he’s got COMPETITION for the best Harry Potter lookalike?? Or should we just leave you alone.”

“No, you don’t have to do that, Mum, but thank you.” James took the gentle chastising to heart. If he was zoning out when his mother of all people was talking, maybe James really did need to re-evaluate his sleeping habits. Ones that had existed all his war-torn life, even before he had been fully concentrated on the efforts in the Order. His mind was terribly overactive, insomnia plaguing him, and he ought to see Jane or even Nadia about sleeping droughts, but what he couldn’t say to others was he feared developing a dependency on them. After how hard he had hit the bottle when he was a teenager, he didn’t trust himself. But he did trust his mother, and in her seemingly endless strength. It was easier to let up a bit when he was so worn, leaning against her hand, a genuine smile etching on his face. His mother always had a way of breathing in new life to those around her. Exhaling a chuckle, he shook his head. “Al’s a younger dad and Lily’s a younger you.” That was what had been the comparisons all their lives, and James never knew if such comments were more burdens for his siblings to carry than anything. He had always carried with him more of a mixture of his parents. “Nah, we’ll leave that title to him. I think my glasses just give that illusion. If I got the Weasley eyes, why couldn’t I have also inherited the Weasley vision?” 

Vic: You know, I wasn't going to say you had to try be a lion but I'm saving that text forever. I'm gonna send it to the rest of the fam, Ginny will love it.

Vic: YESSSS, okay, I'll see if Asterion's free but he might like having the time to be at the hospital so he could join us for like food or something, but I'd love some cousin time with you.

Vic: If Anna wants to come she's totally welcome too yo, I would tell her myself but now you have an excuse to go bother her.

James: What is with this family and collecting receipts? My mother will probably get a proper howl out of it. Which I suppose it would be worth it for her to laugh.

James: Yeah, I'm up for whatever. I'm pretty flexible so it's whatever you want to do and can slot me in for.

                dominique wasn’t bothered by this admittance; she hadn’t been saying anything of particular importance, after all - merely thrown out the question of how foolish it would be to seek out the colony of acromantula’s in the forbidden forest to observe them during mating season, instead of merely read about it. “i’m choosing to interpret that as you thinking it’s the most brilliant idea i have ever had,” she quipped, spinning around in her chair to grin at her cousin. “i thank you for you input.” smile fading as she truly took in his appearance, she cocked her head at him, brows furrowing in concern. “when was the last time you got any sleep?? like, proper sleep, not a half-assed version of it.”

"Not at all what I said,” James poked back at his cousin, “I may have missed what you said for a second, but don’t go putting words in my mouth. If you told Uncle Ron about these plans, he’d have nightmares for weeks.” James wasn’t particularly bothered by spiders one way or the other, and he had spent his own nights in the Forbidden Forest, so it wasn’t as if he had much of a leg to stand on. “But you do you, so long as it’s done under the right, controlled conditions.” Sad as it was, there were more dangerous things than Dominique’s plans -- not that that meant he should encourage them. Mussing his hair further by running a hand through it, he waved off her inquiry with a joking town. “Probably when I was in my mother’s womb. You lot have kept me rather busy since then.” 

“happy birthday to me! happy birth—-you know, i really shouldn’t be singing it to myself!”

“Trust me, I’m sparing everyone by letting you take the reins on that, but,” James paused mid-sentence, reaching for the wrapped package that he had brought into the Gryffindor common room with him for his visit. He handed the gift to Annette with an upturned lip, “Happy birthday.” He couldn’t stiff his fellow Libra -- and one of his dearest friends -- of a present deserving of them could he? He’d agonized on what to get her for awhile before he had ultimately decided on buying her a jewelry box that was shaped as if it was a Jane Austen novel. There was a mirror inside and it was charmed by him to display a different Jane Austen quote with each open. 

VIC: that's actually a good question?

Vic: psssstttt maybe it's like thissssss

Vic: I just sound like a snake ssssss

Vic: Do you wanna come to the reesssseeerrrrvvee this weekend??

Vic: I was trying to be like a snake but obviously that didn't work out.

James: If you are trying to be a snake, does that mean I have to try and be a lion?

James: AND THAT I HAVE TO ROARRRRRRR RRRRREALLY LOUD?

James: This weekend I'm totally fRRRRRee - like most weekends.