Disclaimer: The characters portrayed herein belong to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury/Scholastic, Warner Bros. etc. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made.
What A Laugh Can Mean
As I raised my heavy feeling head up from the bar, where I was slumped, nose practically in my drink, I heard the most amazing sound. It wasn't a sound I was particularly accustomed to any more. Laughter, low and genuine travelled across from a table in the corner of the pub. It went straight through my hard won facade, born of months of rows, tears and fist fights with Tom.
It didn't remind me of Tom's laugh. Tom's laugh was slightly bitter; somewhat jaded. It had been the first thing that attracted me to him, for it seemed to say "Here is a man who has lived; and who knows life is tough, that life isn't fair. A man who has learned to laugh at the pain, and win that way." I had been born into this knowledge, born into a war that had stolen my parent's lives and my families' faith in human decency.
What I didn't realise was that Tom's laugh was a sign of other things. His bitterness travelled over to every part of his life. When I passed my final Auror exams, he told me it was only because of my "precious Uncle Potter's influence". When Harry asked me to move in with them while I got the money together for a place of my own, now that all the kids had moved out and left them with more room than they knew what to do with, Tom accused me of fancying Harry. So I refused Harry's offer and went to live with Tom, where he became my jailer and my owner all at once. He named me Pet and made me beg, and I began to believe it was my place in life; a half werewolf freak who deserved nothing more than he got, and a lot less than Tom.
The moment I broke free came two weeks ago. Tom was fucking me, from behind, as always, and I suddenly realised that he was no good. No good for me or anyone else. When he had finished and had drifted off to a post orgasmic sleep, I dressed, packed and ran. I ran to the one person I could trust to be there. Harry, who held me close I cried and wept with me as I told him everything.
Since then, I'd been going straight from work to the pub, drowning my sorrows and stumbling into the nearest alley with anyone who would have me.
As I listened to that wonderful, touchable, free sounding laugh, I realised that the person who owned that laugh could save me. Could teach me to laugh like that. Looking over to the table the laugh was drifted out from, I felt my heart stop, my breath fly out of me in a gasp. Our eyes met, and he smiled; a sweet, gentle smile full of promise and affection and a desire that had been hidden. As he walked towards me, I stood. As he reached me, I reached for him.
"Hey Teds. Fancy a chat at mine?"
"I think I'd like that James."
As James Potter drew me out of the pub and towards his flat, I left Tom and his cynical, cruel laugh behind. I was saved by a Potter once again.