I'm SO SORRY for the long wait - I swore I wouldn't leave it that long again, but here we are. Hopefully back to regular updates from now on!
PS - another little reminder, I started a tumblr for my fanfic writing, so please do come and find me - the url is aebbeswriting. It's only got some links to my fics on at the moment, and I'm not sure what I plan to do with it, but it's there if anyone wants to say hi or ask any questions or anything!
This chap is for Vicky, for keeping nagging me to write, and for loving these ridiculous kids. ;)
The week, James found, dragged interminably. Hazel was back at school, and had exams coming up so she was mostly busy studying in the evenings. Work was just a daily drudge to get through somehow. He fantasised - as he had for months - about quitting, but that would be the irresponsible thing to do, wouldn't it? And he wasn't going to be irresponsible any more.
The trouble was, being responsible was no fun. He missed the old days at Hogwarts, when he'd never thought about responsibility - except when it came to the Quidditch team, but that was different.
He cracked on Thursday night. Louis and Annabel - neither of whom was working the following day - persuaded him to come out, 'just for a drink or two'. James stumbled into bed at 3am, and when his alarm went off five hours later, managed to find his wand, point it at the clock and silence it, all without really waking up. By the time he lifted his throbbing head out of his pillows, it was nearly nine, and he had not a chance of being on time.
After hauling his clothes on, and managing - with difficulty - not to throw up while cleaning his teeth, he finally arrived at the office clutching a cup of black coffee as if it was his only lifeline, and slumped into his chair.
"Late night?" April Gowan, the young woman who occupied the desk opposite his – the other half of his own desk, really – asked sympathetically.
"Or early morning." James sighed and rubbed his eyes, wishing his pounding headache would ease.
"Well, I hate to make your morning even worse, but Price was looking for you," she said. "He, um, didn't sound very pleased."
Mr Price, Senior Department Member and James's direct manager, was rarely pleased with him. James sighed again, but before he could speak, a door opened behind him.
"Ah, Potter. I was beginning to think you weren't going to bother coming in today," Price's voice said.
"Sorry, sir," James said, twisting round and then immediately wishing he hadn't moved so quickly. He swallowed and paused while the nausea passed. "I, uhh. I slept in. Won't happen again."
"It's happened four times in the last fortnight, Potter. And if it was just five minutes here and there, I might overlook it, but you should have been here twenty five minutes ago. And I don't need to ask why you slept in - you look like a wreck. I want to talk to you. Get in here."
It filtered through the fog in his mind that Price sounded angrier than he usually did about James's lateness. It was true that lately, he had let his attempts at time-keeping slip quite badly. He thought it was the first time he'd ever been more than about ten minutes late, though.
He put his coffee down and stood up to follow Price into his own office. The door slammed shut behind him, and James glanced uneasily at it. He was no stranger to being in trouble - he'd spent half his school years in detention - and he'd got pretty good at judging when things were serious and when they weren't. This was edging uncomfortably towards serious.
"Sit down," Price said.
James did as he was told. Should he say something, or would that only annoy Price more? His brain wasn't working quickly enough to produce the sort of disarming, apologetic phrases that had got him out of trouble in the past. And he wasn't sure he cared enough either.
The silence stretched a little too long.
"This isn't good enough, you know, Potter," Price said grimly.
"I know, sir. I'm sorry," James repeated. If he just agreed with everything, it would be over quickly, and he could go back to his coffee and whatever mind-numbing tasks he had waiting for him.
"Yes, well, you may be sorry, but I'm not interested in just hearing the right words over and over again. Every time, you give me sorry, and tell me it's the last time. And I've had enough of your empty promises – I want to see changes, Potter. You put in zero effort around here, and expect me to accept all your apologies and keep paying your wages. Well, if I'm going to do that, I want to see some sign that you actually care about this job and this department. You can't just swim through life relying on your famous name and your family connections, you know."
The final sentence brought James up with a cold, sharp shock. It was not what he'd expected, and it hit straight at somewhere vulnerable deep inside him. His headwas clearing, and the sickness was no longer entirely that of a hangover. His defences rallied, and anger rose up. What the hell did Price know? Did he think that if James wanted to make the most of family connections, that this was the best he'd be able to do?
"You know what?" he said at last, the words spilling out before he could stop them. "Actually, I probably could swim through life relying on that, if I wanted to. But here I am, filing reports on imported dried frogspawn instead. You think I'm here because this is what I want to be doing?"
He had a moment of deep satisfaction at the way Price's eyes bulged with shock and fury, before the more rational part of his mind surfaced. Price was his boss. What the hell was he doing?
"So," Price said, sounding as if he was struggling not to lose his own temper, "that's how you see the job, is it? Well, I think it's about time you grew up, Potter. I offered you this job because your uncle put in a good word for you, and I thought that being whose son you are, you'd have a bit of dedication. You're here because of those family connections, whether you know it or not – and maybe I should have employed someone without your advantages, who might have appreciated the opportunity a bit more. I've given you chance after chance, Potter, but I won't tolerate that kind of arrogance and rudeness…"
It was the 'being whose son you are' that did it. James stood up, his chair shooting backwards. He was on his feet before he'd even decided to move, and then the words were spilling out, regardless of that small voice of reason screaming in the back of his mind.
"All right then, don't tolerate it," he said. "If that's the only reason I'm here, I don't want it. Give the opportunity to someone else. I'm out of here. I quit. I'll clear my desk right now."
He wasn't sure whether Price had been going to fire him or not, but he wasn't going to give him the chance. He'd hated the job since the start, but he'd stuck with it. Stuck with it in a way he hadn't ever stuck with something he hated before, because he'd stubbornly clung to the fact that at least he was here on his own merit. He'd got this job by himself. Except he hadn't. He was disgusted with it all, with the job, with Price, with himself and his bloody famous family. And he knew he couldn't stay here a day longer.
Price spluttered at him in outrage, something about notice periods and irresponsible attitudes, but James was hardly listening. Now the decision was made, an unexpected calm came over him.
"I got paid a week ago," he broke in. "So you can keep my wages for the week, and then there's nothing keeping me here. You want written notice, I'll write it now. And then I'm finished."
He didn't listen to Price's beratements. Somewhere, in a distant part of his brain, he knew he was behaving stupidly, but this was what they'd all told him to do, wasn't it? Quit his job. Do something else. Well he'd done the first part, although he had no idea what he was going to do next.
He walked out of Price's office, scribbled his notice ('with immediate effect') on a piece of parchment, and picked up his few things in a trance of remaining anger and a sort of euphoria at the thought that he was leaving and wouldn't be coming back. He was even smiling as he said goodbye to April, who stared at him open-mouthed.
The bubble didn't burst until he stepped out of the Ministry onto a sunny London street, and wondered where he was going to go.
He could just go home, but Louis and Annabel would be there, probably only just getting up, and he didn't really feel like explaining to them what had just happened – not yet. He needed a bit more time before he could turn it into a funny story. It was only just sinking in, and didn't seem very funny at all. Had he really just had a full-on argument with Ian Price – who, apart from anything else, was one of Uncle Percy's closest colleagues – and quit his job, with no new one on the horizon?
For some of the same reasons, he didn't want to have to tell his parents quite yet, although the Ministry being what it was (and his family being what it was too), Dad would probably have heard by about lunchtime, unless by some lucky chance he was out of the office. But the thought of trying to explain to them, or repeat any of the conversation with Price, wasn't pleasant. Not because they'd be angry but because they'd be worried.
There was only one person he could really stand the thought of being around right now, he realised. But it was Friday morning, and she was at school. He stood on the pavement for a few moments, looking around him. The people on the street were all Muggles, going about their business. None of them knew who he was or what had just happened, and none of them cared either.
His feet had automatically turned towards quieter streets where he could find a place to Apparate, but he change his mind, and went the other way instead. Towards a busier road, where people and cars crowded up and down. There was a coffee shop on the corner, and he pushed the door open and entered.
It was weird to be somewhere like this without Hazel, but it was a relief. Nobody here would recognise him. Nobody would try to talk to him, or even give him a second glance. And, thanks to the time he'd spent with Hazel, he didn't feel like a complete fish out of water.
The sickness had worn off, and he was starving. He successfully ordered and paid for a coffee and some sort of pastry, and found a free table by the window. It was noisy in the café, with the buzz of conversation, clatter of cups and cutlery, and low music playing in the background. James took his phone out of his pocket and turned it on – he didn't bother with it at work, because it was no use there. While he waited for it to warm up, he stirred his coffee and took a mouthful of pastry, trying to process things.
He'd spent the last six months or more hating his job and complaining about it, but at least it had been safe and steady. It had paid his rent and his bills, without needing any help from his parents. When he'd got up that morning, he'd had no thought of quitting – he'd just been glad it was almost the weekend.
Now he had no job. He'd known for a while that he probably wouldn't stay with the Ministry. Everyone from his parents to Hazel had been encouraging him to look for something else, but he didn't think any of them would have imagined him just walking about with no alternative in sight. At least he hadn't actually been fired. Not that he thought Price would be writing him a glowing reference for any future job, so the technicalities didn't make that much difference.
And what was next? There were lots of different jobs. One of the pubs might hire him, and to be honest, he thought he'd prefer serving behind a bar to making tea in a Ministry office. It wasn't the work - it was the gut-clenching knowledge that everyone who walked in would know who he was. Would look at him and wonder what the hell Harry Potter's son was doing, working in a pub. He felt ashamed of himself for even thinking like that. He wasn't a snob - but the judgements would happen anyway, whatever he felt about the work himself. And he couldn't stand it. It was a new feeling, although it had been growing for the last few months. James had never been that bothered by being recognised; he hadn't minded the attention. Now he just craved a chance to start again, to make his way in a world where nobody knew how he was. Where there was no uncle to put in a good word, where nobody had any expectations based on his last name.
Trying not to think about it, he wrote a text to Hazel. She'd be at school, but if she got a break, she might reply. And she'd shown him how to put his phone into silent mode, and said she kept hers like that all the time, so it wouldn't make a noise in her lesson.
Hey, are you free to meet up later?
They hadn't arranged to meet, although he'd assumed they probably would at some point over the weekend. He didn't want to try to tell her what had happened in a text, but he didn't want to worry her either – she'd expect him to be at work right now, and she knew he couldn't text there – so after a moment's thought, he added:
Nothing major, don't worry if not. Love you
His thumb hesitated over the send button, looking at the last two words. He was still self conscious about them, but when he'd said it last week, she'd said it back. And he didn't want her to think that the reason he wanted to meet so suddenly had anything to do with her. He hit the button, set the phone down and sipped his coffee. Opposite him, on the wall, a poster offered part time work. James gazed at it, the idea taking shape in his mind. Why the hell not? He'd said he was going to spend more time in Hazel's world. And he knew, at least, how to talk about phones and Facebook now.
He remembered what Lily had said. I can't see you leaving your wand behind and living like a Muggle. Well, screw that. Nobody thought he could do it - maybe he should prove them wrong.
Hazel texted back before he finished his pastry, and he didn't think he'd succeeded in not worrying her.
Are you okay? Aren't you at work? We can meet after school if you want
A second later, another text appeared below the first:
Love you too x
James hesitated again. He couldn't truthfully tell her that everything was fine, and being cryptic would probably just concern her more.
Not at work, he typed in the end. I sort of quit. Tell you when I see you. Should I meet you at the park?
Her reply came almost at once.
What?! Where are you? I'm in biology now, I've got a free lesson after break, come over then if you want? You know where the school is right?
He did remember passing her school in Mirlton, although he wasn't sure what she had in mind. Presumably he wouldn't just be allowed to walk in, whether she had a free lesson or not. But he didn't really want to sit in this coffee shop until 3.30.
Yeah, I know where it is, he sent back. Where can we meet?
There was a several minute pause before she replied.
Just wait outside the gate. I'll be out after half ten. Got to go now
He supposed there was only so long she could text under the desk, as she must have been doing. It was just after 10am, although it felt as if it ought to be later. It seemed ages ago that he had been dragging on his clothes at five past nine. His head still ached, and he wished he could have a nap before going to meet Hazel. The coffee had helped, but not enough.
He finished his drink slowly, and stood up to go. As he left, he paused by the counter. There was no harm in asking, after all.
"Hey," he said, when the girl serving looked up and caught his eye. "Um, I was just wondering. I saw the sign about a job..."
"Oh, yeah!" She smiled brightly. "If you're interested, just drop a CV in. Or if you want to know more about it, my manager'll be in tomorrow; just come by any time."
No funny looks, no questions. He was just another stranger, and she thought it was completely normal that he'd be interested in the job.
"Right, thanks," he said, smiling back. "I might do."
He had a CV; he'd used it to apply for the job at the Ministry. It occurred to him, as he left the coffee shop, that it might not be the sort of CV they'd be interested in. It was written on parchment, and his qualifications were not ones they'd recognise. But OWLs and NEWTs had Muggle equivalents, didn't they? Hazel was doing A-Levels, which were basically the same as NEWTs. He could just write A-Level instead. But he'd have to change the subjects too. And then he'd just be telling lies.
He waited for Hazel outside the gates of the school, wondering if he ought to text and tell her he was there. Inside, a distant bell rang – presumably her lesson ending. The doors to the main building opened and kids poured out, all considerably younger than Hazel. He remembered her saying when they'd walked past that the Sixth Form block was separate, around the back, but he didn't know which direction she'd come from. None of the younger kids seemed to be coming out of the gates, just milling about on the yard, and it struck James how little he really knew about any school other than Hogwarts. He couldn't imagine going to school in the middle of a town.
She appeared at last, round the corner of the building, and headed for the gate. She spotted him about half way across and gave him a wave. James lifted his hand in return, and waited for her as she walked out of the gate.
"Are you allowed to do that?" he asked as she reached him, glancing behind her. A woman he assumed was a teacher was strolling around on the yard and must have seen Hazel leave, but didn't seem worried.
"Yeah, I'm in the sixth form. We can sign ourselves out in free lessons. I haven't got anything until after lunch now." She looked up at him, a puzzled look on her face. "James, what happened? Are you okay? You look…" She trailed off as her eyes scanned over him. "Like you just got dragged out of bed. Have you really quit your job?"
"Looks like it." He tried to make it sound light. "And I'm fine, mostly – just hungover. You didn't have to come out of school."
She didn't look fooled. "Well, it's fine – it's break time, then I have a free lesson, then lunch. How bad are you feeling? Have you eaten anything?"
"Yeah." He nodded. "I'm okay – it's just a headache now."
"Okay, well let's walk," she said. "And you can tell me what the hell happened."
They strolled down the street, and he briefly told her the story. Parts of it still stung, and he wasn't sure he'd have been able to repeat Price's comments to anyone else. It wasn't long ago that he wouldn't have been able to repeat them to Hazel either, but something had shifted between them. She wasn't someone he had to show off for. He could be himself.
She listened without comment, except for the odd prompt when he paused. When he got to the end, he stopped and sighed.
"So basically, I lost it and massively fucked up."
She looked at him, a worried frown on her face.
"Well, maybe you did, but I don't think it was totally your fault. He shouldn't have said those things. I don't blame you for getting angry – though okay, maybe quitting then and there wasn't the best decision ever."
James shrugged. Saying it all out loud ought to have been a relief, but it had only served to convince him that it really had happened, and his heart was sinking even further.
"Why shouldn't he have said it, if it's true? He had every right to be angry with me too – and he's my boss. Well, he was my boss."
She sighed. "Sure, he had the right to be annoyed with you for being late, I guess. But if he wanted to fire you, he could have just fired you – he didn't need to say all that. And if it was true, it says more about him than it does about you."
James frowned at the ground as he walked, trying to work out exactly what she was saying. She was obviously just trying to make him feel better, and he wasn't sure if it was working, because on the one hand he didn't buy what she was saying, but on the other he was grateful that she was here, walking beside him and making the attempt.
"I'm serious," she went on, obviously seeing his reaction. "I mean, your dad was just telling me last week – you can get a basic job at the Ministry with a good set of NEWTs. He obviously thought yours were good enough, and I assume he knows what you got. It's not like you walked straight into some amazing, high-up job – no offence, but you were making tea, and doing the magical equivalent of photo-copying. So actually, you were totally qualified for the job, and if you messed it up it was only because you hated it."
"I s'pose," he said doubtfully. She had a point, but it didn't make much difference to the outcome of the situation. "My exam results still obviously didn't matter as much as my surname, though."
"Well, if that's true, that's not your problem!" she said. "If that's how this Price guy chooses his employees, what does that say about him? He sounds like a shit boss. Not everyone's going to be like that. You can get a different job…"
"Can I?" He broke in. "Not in the Ministry – not once it gets round what happened. If anyone gives me another chance after that, it's going to be because of my family again, isn't it? And I can't see Price writing me a reference." He shook his head, trying to clear it. "Sorry. I mean, you're right, and I hadn't thought about it like that. But I just fucking hate it all. I hate everyone thinking they know me just because they know who I am. I can never get away from it."
He felt naked having said it, because he never talked about it. In the last few years, he'd rarely even thought about it. It hadn't mattered at school, but it had always been there under the surface.
Her hand found his, lacing their fingers together. "I know. And I'm sorry, Jamie. I wish I could help, but I can't even imagine what it must be like."
He gave her a smile. "You are helping. You're listening." And she'd called him Jamie, the way his family did, which he thought was a first. He wasn't sure if she was aware she'd done it, but he liked it. "And when I'm with you, I feel like I've escaped for a while." He hesitated. "I was in a coffee place before - a Muggle one, I mean. They were advertising jobs. And I honestly wish I could apply. I could come and be in your world for a bit."
"I'm not sure that would solve your problems," she pointed out gently, "I mean, okay, nobody's going to have heard of you, but nobody's going to have heard of any of your qualifications either. And I'm not sure how you'd get on, given that you only recently figured out automatic doors."
"I know." He sighed. "It was just a stupid idea, but it seemed like a good one for a few seconds. I could find out more about your world, and I'd get to get away from it it all."
She squeezed his fingers. "James, I get it, you want to get away. And don't get me wrong, I want you to get to know what it's like without magic. But you can't just run away. Not just because of this."
"Okay, okay, I know. I wasn't really serious." Except that part of him had been. Part of him had loved the idea. "I just… I've got to go and tell them I couldn't even hold down a shitty little job. I fucked it all up. As usual." He took a deep breath, because he'd never told her this part. "Last year, at school… I almost got myself expelled. I'd been Quidditch Captain, and they took it off me."
It still hurt. He'd missed the last game of the season, the last game of his school years, and the fact that the team – which he'd selected and trained – had won had been cold comfort.
"Yeah, I know," she said quietly.
He looked at her, and she was biting her lip.
"Right." He sighed. "Scorpius told you."
"Well, he got into trouble for it too. So it was sort of relevant. I also know you had a good reason to do what you did, though."
"Yeah, well. Mum and Dad were great about it really, because they always are, but they were still upset, obviously. It's like whatever I do, I end up disappointing them."
There was a pause, and she was obviously thinking of the right thing to say.
"Will they really be that disappointed?" she said at last. "I mean, they don't seem like the type to be bothered about you being successful just for the sake of it. I'd have thought they'd be more worried about whether you're happy or not."
And again, she was probably right, but he didn't see how his parents could help being disappointed by this. Disappointed and worried.
"I don't know," was all he said, then added: "I just look so pathetic compared to what they were doing at my age."
"Well, their situation was totally different, wasn't it? James." She pulled him to a halt, and tugged him round to face her. "They're your mum and dad. They're going to be there for you. And if you really want to spend a bit less time in the magical world for a while, well, we can do that. It's probably a good time, if you're not going to be working again straight away. You don't have to run away to do it, though. You can just… take a break to work things out. It'll be okay."
He wasn't sure she was right, but as she pulled him down and kissed him, he almost believed it.