written for: the houses competition
house: slytherin
category: themed
prompts: Security – the loss of, the finding of the need for, how we act when security is shattered & Holding hands [Action] / 500-5000 words
word count: 4099
warnings: some swearing, minor reference to sex (off-screen)
notes: this is assessment week yikes
disclaimer: disclaimed.
there was a time when i was scared of nothing
nothing can touch you if you don't look back
i walked away from every good thing that i had
i never called you like i know i should have
thought i could save you for a rainy day
i bet the sun was shining when i let you slip away
ptl -— relient k
James is fifteen the first time he sees an article gossiping about his sex life.
It's in Snitch!, which everyone knows is absolute trash, and more to the point, the article is entirely baseless, but that doesn't change the fact that it deeply unnerves James. Sure, he flirts and enjoys teasing girls, but contrary to what the article is positing—and, apparently, popular belief—he's not some sort of Casanova. He's fifteen.
"Don't read that, Jamie," Rose says from across the breakfast table, catching sight of what he's reading. "It's bullshit."
James holds it up. "Have you read it?" he asks.
Rose shakes her head, but she's frowning. Her best friend Cassie, sitting next to her, gives James a sympathetic look.
"Ellie was reading it in the dorm this morning," Cassie says. "Well, until Rose set it on fire."
James looks at Rose, eyebrows shooting up. She grumbles at him.
"If she's going to read incendiary garbage, I'm sure as hell going to incinerate it," she says irritably, rolling her eyes at him. He can't help but feel slightly touched. She rolls her eyes again, but there's a soft half-smile playing at her lips, and something gentle in her expression. It strikes James even more than the idea of her burning something for him, because Rose Weasley is possibly the least gentle person he knows. She's made of jagged edges and burning spirits, and there's something a little cowing in seeing something so fierce soften for you.
Rose stands abruptly, glancing down at James and Cassie. "I've got to go get my Potions essay off Al before class—meet you there?" she asks Cassie, who nods. Rose departs to the Slytherin table, and James' eyes drop involuntarily to the gossip rag in his hands. He can feel Cassie's eyes on him.
"Here," she says, "give me that."
He blinks at her, but hands it over.
"C'mon," she says, standing up.
"Where are we going?" James asks as he obeys, following her out of the Great Hall.
She grins over her shoulder. "Courtyard," she says airily. "Less collateral damage."
"Collateral damage?" he repeats as they enter the courtyard. She nods at him, then places the magazine on the ground, before pointing her wand at it. She glances at James, though, and he doesn't know what she sees, but something in her expression shifts.
"You should burn it," she says.
"What?"
"Wingardium Leviosa," she says instead of answering him, levitating the magazine and motioning to it with her head. "Go on," she says. "It'll be cathartic, I promise."
He's not sure if it's her words or the half-wry, half-reckless smile on her face as she looks at him that gets him to do it, but he finds himself raising his wand and aiming it at the floating magazine.
"Incendio," he breathes, and suddenly it's on fire. She's right, he realises; there's something oddly satisfying about visualising those unfair, untrue words about him burning away to nothingness in front of him.
Cassie releases her spell and the ashes of the magazine fall to the ground. She grins at James, who grins back, until something occurs to him.
"That was actually Cartwright's magazine," he says, glancing at the pile of ashes before looking back at Cassie.
"Oh, shit," she says, face falling for a moment, before resolving into something unapologetic. "Actually, you know what? This is just karma for buying it. We did him a favour, really, getting that rubbish out of his life."
"Absolutely altruistic of us, really," James says, not even trying to suppress his grin.
"Exactly!" she beams. There's a flurry in the corridors behind them and they turn to see hordes of students making their way to class.
"I've got to go to Potions," she says, looking back at him, "but…"
"Cassie!" Con Everwood shouts from the corridor, beckoning her. "Potions!"
"In a moment!" she calls back, before looking back at James. "Hey," she says, catching his hand as she walks backwards. "Don't forget—it's bullshit. And send Cartwright to me if he's upset," she says, before giving him a quick salute in farewell.
He watches as she and Con head down the corridor towards the dungeons. For a moment, thanks to her and Rose, he feels a bit better about it all.
x
Two incinerated magazines don't un-print words, though, nor the lasting effect one article can have on the public consciousness.
Part of the problem is that it's not just one article, though; it's like after that first one, the dam breaks, and he's pulled along with the tide of assumptions and invasions of privacy.
He starts to think that if he's going to have this reputation, this status in the public consciousness, then he may as well earn it.
"Why not commit the crime I'm punished for?" he says once to Louis, following an argument with Roxanne in which she disparaged his attitude towards girls and sex. "Everyone already thinks it of me. Why not embrace it?"
Louis tilts his head. "Okay, sure, just—don't let it all be about them, all right?" he says. "Otherwise they win again. Do it for you."
It's just—James is seventeen, and has been immersed in rumours and expectations of his exploits for so long that he doesn't even know how to find himself inside of it all. And if he can't find himself, well—at least this feels good, and he has someone to lie beside each night. There are worse things than never having to be alone.
It's his last year of school, and he should really be thinking about the future, or at least exams, but his life these days is just Quidditch and girls. It's not a bad life—maybe not what people expect from most Seventh Years, but it seems to be what they expect from James Potter.
He winks at Cecily Rogers in the common room, grinning a little when she blushes and scurries away.
Lucy throws a pillow at him. "Shouldn't you be studying or something?" she asks, raising an eyebrow at him over her O.W.L. Charms homework.
On the floor between them, Rose, Cassie and Con are working on their Defence Against the Dark Arts homework, but all three look up, sporting expressions of varying degrees of amusement.
"Unless there's an assignment on the Gryffindor Quidditch team's ability to dominate, that's optimistic," Rose says drily.
James chooses to ignore this. "I've got Quidditch practice in half an hour," he says with a shrug, as if to say, what's the point?
Roxanne, sitting at the other end of Lucy's couch, frowns. "So does Cassie," she points out, "and she's working."
Cassie holds her hands up in defence. "Hey, don't drag me into this," she says. "Though, Jamie, if you want practice to actually start in half an hour, we should probably head down now so we can get changed."
She jumps up, handing her textbook to Rose, who places it on top of a stack of books beside them.
"Have fun flying in the cold!" Con says cheerfully in farewell, blowing Cassie a kiss when she flips him off.
Rolling her eyes, Cassie turns to James. "Let's leave before I commit murder," she says.
As they leave the common room, James can hear Con shouting after them, "I'm a prefect, Lewis! You can't murder the law!"
James and Cassie spend most of their walk to practice discussing whether the punishment for murder would be worse if the victim was a prefect—"I'm not really sure they could make the punishment worse," Cassie says thoughtfully—which eventually devolves into them discussing how many prefects James has for relatives.
"So, Rose, Lucy and Victoire… and that's just for Gryffindor," Cassie says, counting off on her fingers.
"Yeah, and Fred was for Ravenclaw—hell, he was Head Boy—actually, Dominique was Head Girl too, though I don't really know how that happened," James says, frowning. "And Hugo's probably going to be next year—maybe Lils too, who knows?"
"So at least five during your schooling career," Cassie muses. "Wow."
"Your brother's a prefect, right?" James asks.
"Yeah, but I think it was more one of those 'everyone will open up to him' kind of appointments, not because he's super responsible or anything," Cassie says, rolling her eyes fondly. "Still, I guess if you're looking to dip in a well for approachable prefects, Hufflepuff's a good way to go."
It's an easy conversation, the way it always is. James has been friends with Cassie since his second year, when he accidentally challenged Rose to a prank war and she enlisted Cassie and Con to her team. They'd always gotten along well, but it wasn't until his fifth year that she joined the Quidditch team and they became close friends in their own right. He's really grateful for it, he suddenly realises, fondly watching her laugh as they head onto the Pitch. She's one of the few constants in his life that he isn't related to, and while he knows that his family actually don't have to stick by him, he's always felt like they never really had a choice in their relationships with him. There's nothing really that obligates Cassie to being his friend, and he thinks that why it means so much to him that she chooses to be there for him anyway.
They head into their respective changing rooms, and when James comes out, Cassie's chatting to their Keeper, Laurie Thomas, as the others mill around.
Calling everyone to order, James sends everyone out into the sky. Everything's going well—at least, until the last fifteen minutes of practice.
"All right!" James calls. "Chasers, to me!"
Cordelia Wainwright and Jack Halfpenny fly over, the three of them forming a huddle. "All right, this time, we're going to try the Underoos play. Cordy, you've got the best control, so you do the dive, all right? And Jack, you're the fastest, so you stay to the side and play scorer. I'll be the distraction. Once I get the Quaffle, get into position. Got it?"
At their nods, James whistles sharply. "Half-field run through!" he shouts out. "Dennis," he says, indicating one of their beaters, "is with us. Leila, you act as opposition Beater. Laurie, obviously opposition Keeper." Tracking his eyes to Cassie, he asks, "Cass, can you play as an opposition Chaser?"
"Sure," she says easily. "It's just like catching a Snitch, only bigger," she teases, winking. He rolls his eyes, but grins.
"And… in play!" he calls,.
The play moves fast enough to give him whiplash, and James loves it. He is thriving, because this is it, this is home for him, this is where he feels so entirely himself—
A scream cuts through his adrenaline and he whips his head over to Cordy, trying to figure out what's happened to her. She's not the one in trouble, though, and his body's already urging his broom into a dive by the time his brain catches up. Cassie's in freefall, her broom splintered, and James doesn't have time to work out what's going on, he just has to catch her…
Jack gets there first, swooping beneath her and slinging an arm around her to stop her fall, pulling her onto his broom. James manages to pull up in time to stop himself from crashing into them, but his heart is thudding in his chest, and his eyes are wildly scanning her to make sure she's okay. She seems unhurt, and he feels an overwhelming wave of relief crash over him. He feels an odd twinge of something he doesn't know how to identify when he looks at her clutching Jack, but he shoves that aside, choosing instead to clap Jack on the back. Then he turns around and faces the rest of his team, expression tight. He points down to the ground, and everyone lands. The blood is pounding through his head, and all he can isolate in the maelstrom of emotions in his head are rage and fear.
"What happened?" he bites out, glaring at his team.
Nobody says something for a moment, until Cordelia turns to Dennis Cartwright. "You could have killed her!" she spits out.
Instantly, everyone turns to face Dennis. "It was an accident," he protests.
"She wasn't looking at you! This isn't a game, Dennis, where she'd have had a full team at her back and another beater to deal with the bludger while Leila was dealing with the other one," Cordy points out angrily. "And you hit her broom."
James' eyes are blazing as he turns to Dennis. "You never—and I mean never—aim for someone's broom," he says coldly. "I don't care if it's the finals and the other team are cheaters, you still never do that." He's actually shaking, but he can't help it. His mother used to play Quidditch professionally, and he's heard horror stories about some of the tactics that teams employ. He lives for Quidditch, but he would rather walk away from the sport forever than ever be part of a team that sanctions those sorts of tactics, let alone its Captain.
Dennis' face contorts, turning purple, but James doesn't care. He won't bend on this. Eventually, Dennis takes a deep breath, and sags a little.
"I got too caught up in winning," he says, "and I fucked up."
"Winning can't come before wellbeing," James says sharply, jaw clenched tight. He knows that Dennis' admission is important and that he should acknowledge it, but he's just so angry. He keeps seeing Cassie falling—hearing Cordy scream—feeling the wind rush past him as he dives, heart jackhammering as he reaches out desperately, so scared he won't be fast enough—
He squeezes his eyes shut, and takes a deep breath. Behind him, he hears someone clearing their throat, and he turns to see Jack supporting Cassie.
"Look, I'm all right," she says, but she sounds shaken, and it twists something in James' chest.
"Yeah, no, you're going to the Hospital Wing," Jack says, shaking his head at her. "Even if just for shock, I don't care."
"James, seriously, I'm okay," she says, when he won't meet her eyes. "My broom's probably not," she adds, wincing, "but I'm all right. Jack's just being an old lady."
Jack snorts. "Like any old lady could have nabbed you out of the sky like that," he says, his tone slightly teasing. "Maybe I should take over your Seeking job."
"I'm easier to catch than a Snitch," Cassie snorts, and James knows they're just trying to make the team feel better, but he's still having a hard time thinking about it as something he can joke about.
She lets Jack escort her to the Hospital Wing, pausing only twice: once, to catch James' hand as she goes past, squeezing it tightly, before letting go; and secondly, to talk to Dennis. James can't catch what they say, but he sees them both nodding.
After Cassie and Jack depart, James calls the team back to attention. "All right—Dennis, you're going to be suspended for the next match," he says. Dennis simply nods, looking down. "I'll let everyone know when I figure out how we're going to replace him next match. Otherwise, good work today, guys. Hit the showers."
James spends most of his time in the shower thinking—well, remembering. Every time he tries to think of something else, he just keeps remembering that horrible moment in practice.
It's still playing on repeat in his head as he heads to the Hospital Wing, playing over and over until he catches sight of Cassie in one of the beds, and everything in his head just stops.
"How are you doing?" he asks thickly, approaching her.
She starts, before relaxing as she notices him. "Oh, you know," she says, rolling her eyes. "Absolutely fine, but sticking around just in case." She raises her voice at the end, and her cousin Alexander, one of the Healer interns on placement from St. Mungo's, pops his head out.
"Oi, behave," he instructs, then returns to the office, where James can see he's writing hurriedly.
"Making trouble for your poor Healer?" James asks, and his tone is shifting slightly towards teasing, like he can breathe again now that he knows it's all okay.
Cassie scoffs. "Alex is a magnet for trouble," she says. "It's not my fault."
James raises an eyebrow, but grins. "I don't know, Lewis, you're a bit of trouble yourself."
Cassie socks him in the arm. "Oh, look who's talking?" she retorts, laughingly listing countless examples of James causing trouble while he defends himself by doing the same thing to her. Pretty soon, they're both laughing, and talking animatedly long into the night.
x
When James turns twenty-one, the party is spectacular.
The guest list includes most people he knew in Hogwarts, as well as most of the professional Quidditch League. It's absolutely raging, and the night is talked about by the media for weeks afterwards.
James prefers the gathering they have in a Welsh pub, though. It's a small affair—his family and their closest friends. He's sitting with Rose, Albus, Cassie, Molly and Con when Molly jumps up, evidently having spotted someone to talk to, and Scorpius takes her seat.
"Any of Lucy's friends tried to make you dance with them yet?" Albus asks Scorpius in greeting.
He looks harangued. "More than one," he mutters, before looking up at James. "Happy Birthday, by the way."
"Cheers," James says, grinning. "Did any of Luce's friends succeed?"
"My money's on Biddy," Rose says at once.
"Yes to both," Scorpius admits, looking at them all as if to ask for sympathy.
Rose cackles.
"Stop torturing him," Cassie says, grinning at Rose. "Just ask Rose to dance," she says to Scorpius, eyes glinting mischievously. "She's the only one they're even slightly scared of—well, and Victoire."
Scorpius blushes, but glances sideways at Rose. Con nudges her slightly in the side, and she turns to glare at both Con and Cassie, before sighing slightly.
"All right, Scorpius," Rose says, grinning. "Let's go show them how it's done."
Con's eyebrows shoot up, but he grins. "I'm going to go ask Bella to help me show them how it's actually done," he says, standing up.
"Good luck," Albus snorts.
"We were Heads together," Con says solemnly. "We have a bond."
Cassie wrinkles her nose. "Kinky," she says drily. Con winks, before heading to ask Bella.
Albus looks nauseous. "Thanks for that, Cassie," he says, making a face.
"Not a fan of Con's kinks?" she asks innocently.
James can't help but laugh at the look on Albus' face. "I mean, if his kinks are as classy as Bella, then I'm entirely fine with them, but I don't really want to test that hypothesis," Albus replies, and Cassie laughs.
"All right, then—want to dance instead?" Cassie asks, grinning.
James notices Al's eyes widen slightly, and the slight reddening in his cheeks, but doesn't think much of it; after spending so many years as Slytherin Seeker to Cassie's Gryffindor, James suspects Albus is probably still getting used to being her friend entirely outside of the trappings of that rivalry.
Albus' eyes flick to James', and he smiles quickly at Cassie. "And leave the birthday boy alone?" he asks. "Nah, go on, you two dance—I'll go ask Minnie."
Cassie looks surprised, but she smiles at James, standing and holding out her hand. "Wanna show them how it's done, pretty boy?" she teases.
James takes it, grinning. He's distantly aware of Albus and Minnie joining all the pairs on the floor, but he's mostly focused on Cassie's hand in his as he pulls her close, and her laugh as he spins her around.
"How's the birthday treating you?" she asks as he pulls her back to his chest.
"I mean, it's no spectacular bash," he jokes. Cassie's one of his closest friends, and he knows she's aware of how much more he prefers this particular gathering. Intimacy is hard to find when you're James Potter, and has been since he was fifteen; it sometimes surprises him how much he misses it, in smaller moments like these.
"So do we need more space or more people throwing themselves at you to bump this up to spectacular?" Cassie asks, eyebrow raised, eyes glinting with amusement.
"There's never a shortage of people throwing themselves at me," James says with a wink, and it's true, in a sense. There's never a shortage of people throwing themselves at James Potter, Quidditch player extraordinaire; he's not sure the last time anyone aimed for intimacy with James, the kid with the Holyhead Harpies poster and crooked smile when he's startled into amusement.
"Which is really a mystery when you say stuff like that," Cassie says, rolling her eyes.
"Hey, I'm the best you've never had," he says, and it's a joke, but it's also not. The air is charged with something which he chooses to believe is alcohol but he's starting to suspect might not be.
"Are you serious?" she asks, cocking her eyebrow like she's bantering, but the snort that would normally accompany her words never comes, and his heart is beating faster.
"Like a heart attack," he says, because that's what he's meant to say, that's how this is meant to go—banter back and forth, because they've always done this. She knows him better than anyone else who isn't related to him—and even better than some of them—and he's always been able to rely on her. She's his safe space, and she's always been there. In kind, he's been there when she's drunk and thinks she's immortal, and even just when she needs a break from the hectic life of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She's not his best friend, exactly, but she's something like it—important in a way he's never felt a need to classify, because their relationship has always been so comfortable.
It's just a bit of fun, he figures, leaning slightly closer to her. Neither of them are prudes, and they're drunk, and attractive, and completely single… His breath skims her ear, and her own breath hitches.
"I need air," she says, and he nods, swallowing.
"Yeah, air sounds good," he says, following her out.
x
(He's not really surprised when he wakes up next to her the next morning. He can't help but look down at her fondly—it was fun, after all, and she's one of his closest friends. It makes sense to be fond, right?
He's never been good with morning afters, though, so he presses a kiss to her forehead and gets out of the bed. Maybe they'll do it again, he thinks, one day if they need a bit of stress relief. He casts one last look at her before he leaves.)
x
Life gets hectic, and James doesn't really think about that night.
Well, he thinks about it, but more in passing or as a fond memory—not as anything he needs to follow up. He and Cassie have always just existed so easily with each other that it never really occurs to him. Sometimes, he'll think about whether she wants to get something to eat or anything, but he always ends up dismissing that. He always feels better for being with her, but all he has time for these days are snatches of moments, and he kind of just wants to save her up for a proper meet-up.
He's sitting with Rose and Louis at the Burrow when Rose suddenly turns to him.
"She won't wait forever, you know?" she says.
James blinks. "Who?" he asks.
Rose stares at him. Louis winces.
"Cassie," she says, as if it should be obvious. James supposes that maybe it should be. She's Rose's best friend, and their closest mutual friend outside of their relatives. It was probably the obvious guess in Rose's eyes.
"Has something happened?" he asks, furrowing his brow. Normally, he and Cassie have always just popped in and out of each other's lives when they could. It's the kind of friendship where you can just show up at the other's apartment and continue a conversation from three months ago. He's a little worried that something's shifted recently in Cassie's life from Rose's tone.
Rose looks at him, a little sadly. "You tell me," she says softly, shrugging at him before standing to go talk to Albus. Louis looks at James carefully.
"Anything you want to tell me?" he asks.
"I don't think so?" James tries.
Louis sighs, but nods. "All right," he says, dropping it.
x
(It's a few weeks later, but something about what Rose says clicks in James' head, and he thinks: Oh.)
x
He shows up at Cassie's office during a training break, and asks one of her co-workers where she is. She doesn't know, but then James catches sight of Scorpius.
"Hey," he says in greeting. "Have you seen Cassie?"
Scorpius looks slightly uncomfortable. "She's at lunch," he says slowly. James is about to ask where, when Scorpius adds, "James… I don't think she's alone."
He blinks a few times before he registers, and then he's nodding at Scorpius. He's nodding way too much, by the way Scorpius and the woman are looking at him, but he can't help it. This is what you get, he scolds himself, but thanks them both and leaves.
He paces around the park near her apartment for half an hour that evening before knocking on her door.
She opens it immediately but steps back slightly when she sees him. There's something he can't read in her expression for the first time he can remember, and it breaks his heart a little bit.
"James," she says guardedly. "What are you doing here?"
He just stares at her for a moment, drinking her in, wondering how in the world he could possibly have missed the truth of this for so long, before blinking. "I came to see you," he says, slightly hoarse.
Cassie looks behind her, then at her feet, then at James. "Now's not really a good time," she says.
"Can we just—can we talk? Please?" he asks, and he knows he sounds slightly desperate but he can't help it.
Cassie stiffens slightly. "Anytime in the past four months would have been a good time," she says, and he knows that strain in her voice this time—hurt, or angry, or maybe a little of both.
"I'm sorry," he says softly, and she closes her eyes and shudders. Her hands reach towards his, like they have a thousand times before, but stop just short, before she withdraws them back completely.
"I believe you," she says, and her eyes are sparkling with what might be tears, and she looks tired, but also resolute. "And I'm sorry too. But—" she breaks off, and glances backwards.
He gets it. He wishes he'd been this quick on the uptake months, or even years, ago, but he gets it now, and he steps back quickly.
"You're busy," he says, trying for a smile, and succeeding enough that she gives him a sad smile of her own. He salutes her, a jaunty farewell that feels like a lie in this corridor where his heart is breaking, but it's what they've always done, and is in some ways the truest thing he's ever done.
He runs down the stairs and ends up on the street, hands jammed in his pocket, when something makes him look over his shoulder at her window. She's standing there, watching him. For a second, he has an urge to throw a pebble at her window, like something out of those Muggle movies Roxanne watches, but he doesn't. That's not his right. He's not the hero in this story.
So he walks away into the night, each step feeling like another piece of his heart breaking.
x
A few months later, he's sitting in the garden at the Burrow when Rose sits beside him.
"I did tell you," she says, but it's soft and sympathetic for an I told you so, especially from Rose, so he just nods instead.
"I'm an idiot," he says, and she laughs, almost sadly.
"Yeah," she agrees, checking his shoulder with her own. "But you'll get it right one day."
James nods, absorbing this. "Is she happy?" he asks.
"Yeah," Rose says consideringly. "Al never made a move for years because he didn't think she could ever want him when you were around, but…" she trails off, spreading her hands.
He laughs, and it's bitter, but not entirely. He loves them both to death, so if they can make each other happy, that's what matters.
Rose nudges him. "Why don't you ask her yourself?" she asks softly, and James looks up to see Cassie walking forward hesitantly, hand in hand with Albus. That twinges, he'll admit, but it's getting easier.
Rose leaves, Albus following her. Cassie slowly walks forward.
"Hi," he says, trying for a smile and almost succeeding.
"Hi," she says, managing a smile that's hesitant, but real.
He's felt adrift without her for months, and suddenly he realises that no matter what they are to each other, he's missed her. He holds out his hand, palm up, like a gallant gentleman helping a lady to her seat, or a friend reaching out.
"How are you?" he asks, and his voice is thick, but it's because the question matters so much to him. He really wants to know.
Cassie hesitates, eyes searching his face. He doesn't know what she finds, but he thinks it's good, from the smile she sends him.
"I'm good," she says, "really good."
It'll be hard for a while, James realises, maybe even always, but it'll be okay. They've been safe spaces for each other for so long that all he wants is her back in his life. More than anything, he wants to be her friend again.
When she puts her hand in his, it feels like he's coming home.
a/n. i don't really think i want to tell you what kind of story this is—i don't think that's the point, exactly. but i think it can be a story about love without being a love story, but, most importantly, it's james' story.
if you've made it this far, i would really appreciate a review, thanks!