James Potter (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
alotofgood) wrote2011-01-26 04:12 pm
alotofgood) wrote2011-01-26 04:12 pm
post-012. may 1976.
May 19, 1976 — afternoon.
Hogwarts, Scotland
Gryffindor Common Room, Hospital Wing
Directly after this.
"It's not that bad," says James, wincing when he shifts his hand away from Remus and Peter's prying eyes.
They look at him.
"Really."
Peter looks worried. "James, you should really see Madam Pom —"
"You saw what happened to Regulus. He's got it worse. This'll heal in a day, maybe two at most," James says, interrupting Peter from whatever he was going to say. "Besides, if Madam Pomfrey hears about this, then Professor McGonagall will, and then Quentin March will, and once March's heard, that's it."
Remus sighs. "Yes, but you can't play in the final with a broken hand. Quidditch players need their hands."
"It's fine, Remus. It's just a little bruised, that's all. I feel all right."
In truth, it hurts like nothing he's ever known.
It was absolutely worth it — because there's something about really giving someone a beating that provides satisfaction a simple wand hex or jinx can't, but ...
Well, it hurts.
The tops of his knuckles have turned several shades of purple, blue, black and green. The skin has been broken in places, oozing half-coagulated blood.
And he can't exactly flex any of his fingers yet.
(He tried. It nearly made him yelp embarrassingly.)
"Just — someone go find Sirius, or something. All right?" he snaps. "Leave me alone for a moment."
Remus exchanges glances with Peter.
"I won't go looking for Regulus again," James adds exasperatedly. "The moment's over anyway."
"All right. We won't be long." Remus stands up. "Stay here. Don't move. Come on, Peter."
When they leave, James lets out a shaky breath.
Hogwarts, Scotland
Gryffindor Common Room, Hospital Wing
Directly after this.
"It's not that bad," says James, wincing when he shifts his hand away from Remus and Peter's prying eyes.
They look at him.
"Really."
Peter looks worried. "James, you should really see Madam Pom —"
"You saw what happened to Regulus. He's got it worse. This'll heal in a day, maybe two at most," James says, interrupting Peter from whatever he was going to say. "Besides, if Madam Pomfrey hears about this, then Professor McGonagall will, and then Quentin March will, and once March's heard, that's it."
Remus sighs. "Yes, but you can't play in the final with a broken hand. Quidditch players need their hands."
"It's fine, Remus. It's just a little bruised, that's all. I feel all right."
In truth, it hurts like nothing he's ever known.
It was absolutely worth it — because there's something about really giving someone a beating that provides satisfaction a simple wand hex or jinx can't, but ...
Well, it hurts.
The tops of his knuckles have turned several shades of purple, blue, black and green. The skin has been broken in places, oozing half-coagulated blood.
And he can't exactly flex any of his fingers yet.
(He tried. It nearly made him yelp embarrassingly.)
"Just — someone go find Sirius, or something. All right?" he snaps. "Leave me alone for a moment."
Remus exchanges glances with Peter.
"I won't go looking for Regulus again," James adds exasperatedly. "The moment's over anyway."
"All right. We won't be long." Remus stands up. "Stay here. Don't move. Come on, Peter."
When they leave, James lets out a shaky breath.
no subject
Some stories get around Hogwarts very fast.
And then there are stories like one of the Gryffindor Chasers breaking the nose of the Slytherin Seeker less than two weeks before the Quidditch Final.
Those get around at light speed.
Lily has been watching the Marauder conference in the common room.
She has also been watching the way Potter has been favoring his right hand.
"Potter, catch," she says, and tosses a crumpled piece of parchment toward him.
no subject
He's a Chaser. He's learned to use both of his hands to deal with Quaffles.
Which is partially why he isn't too worried about his hand.
Even if it hurts like hell.
Of course, he had to shift in his seat to catch Evans' parchment, and that's only forced movement in his whole body, including his right hand.
He curses under his breath.
no subject
So is the way he caught the parchment.
Chaser or not, he's still right-handed. And she threw that to his right side.
"Left-handed are you, now?" she asks, lightly.
no subject
And it occurs to him that it's starting to take him effort to speak like normal.
That's probably not a good sign, is it?
"Or — well, trying to be."
no subject
Lily sits down next to him, to his right, where Lupin had been a moment before.
Her eyes drop to his hand and then back to his face.
"How badly does it hurt?"
no subject
"It's all right, Evans. Like I've been telling the others, it'll heal itself up in a couple days," he says.
Maybe if he says it enough, he'll start to believe it.
no subject
"You're still a terrible liar, Potter.
"I can see that it's not all right.
"So, how badly does it hurt?"
no subject
A sigh.
"All right. It might hurt a bit."
Please don't make him go to Madam Pomfrey.
no subject
Lily looks down again, studying the bruising on Potter's hand.
"Can you move your fingers?"
no subject
He shrugs his left shoulder.
"Not yet, anyway. I'm sure it'll be fine in an hour or so.
"Really, Evans."
no subject
"Look, you need to go to Madam Pomfrey.
"It could be broken."
no subject
He gives her a sidelook.
"Better a slightly injured hand than being completely dead."
no subject
"One, if it's broken, it's not slightly injured.
"Two, even if it's not broken, you can't play Quidditch with an injured hand, because if you can't move your fingers, you can't hold onto both the broom and the Quaffle at the same time.
"Three, putting Quidditch aside, heresy that that is to you, that's your wand arm, and right now, given the number of Slytherins who are likely to be looking to pay you back, you don't need to be to be trying to cast spells with a hand you're not used to casting spells with.
"And four, if you don't agree to go to the Hospital Wing, I'll just go get Cliona, and she will go get March, and they both yell at you, and then you'll have to go see Madam Pomfrey anyway."
no subject
"Stop making sense, Evans," is what he eventually says. He doesn't sound entirely put out by what she's said, nevertheless.
Mostly because it's hard to argue with someone who's being so correct, and looking so good doing it.
"It's ... not helping me win my case here."
no subject
"It's supposed to be winning me mine."
And she suspects that it has.
"Come on, let me take you to the hospital wing, okay?"
She looks him straight in the eye.
"Please?"
no subject
Bollocks, and damn it all, and bloody hell.
Curse his inability to say 'no' to Lily Evans for just about anything.
Especially when she's looking at him like that.
(He'd really rather stay here and just stare at her eyes, to be honest. But that's not going to happen.)
Reluctantly: "All right."
no subject
"Hey, Glynis," she says, and the other girl looks up from her essay. "If Potter's roommates are looking for him, would you let them know I've taken him to see Madam Pomfrey."
"Sure," Glynis says, nodding.
"Thanks."
Lily turns back to Potter. "Let's go."
no subject
It's really taken on some ugly colours since his run-in with Regulus' nose.
And it actually does look worse than it had half an hour ago.
Bugger.
"I don't suppose you heard what happened?" he asks, as he passes through the portrait hole, cradling his right hand in his left.
no subject
Just in case.
"It's Hogwarts, Potter. Of course I've heard.
"I just probably haven't heard an accurate account."
no subject
"Yeah."
Oh, Hogwarts. Your penchant for delivering the most inaccurate of news is almost as bad as Rita Skeeter's Daily Prophet headlines.
"Probably not. D'you want to hear the real story?"
no subject
She looks down at the floor.
Lily is fairly certain she's not going to like this.
"Please."
no subject
"Honestly, that's not an entirely inaccurate version of the story either," he says.
Since Regulus Black and Severus Snape are ... pretty much like mountain trolls.
Malnourished ones, but ... you know. Definitely trollish.
"M'not sure what you've heard but — I was in the Transfiguration courtyard," he says, "waiting for Remus, Sirius and Peter.
"That's when Regulus and Snape showed up. They'd been talking about what happened with Perks, which eventually led to far more gruesome topics. Things that I can't repeat without wanting to hit something."
no subject
She's not sure what to say about the rest of it.
She's not sure what to say about a lot of things lately.
no subject
He takes a breath.
"Which I suppose I did. To Regulus Black."
He shrugs.
"I was going to make something up, you know. Added something from Casino Royale, maybe. It'd sound a bit more heroic, anyway. The truth is, I just couldn't stand those two worthless bastards talking that way about —"
There's a pause before he says, "— you or Sirius."
no subject
"I ...
"If you're going to hit a Slytherin every time one of them says something cruel or vicious or nasty or what was your word, 'gruesome', about me or Sirius Black, then ...
"Then for the love of God, learn how to throw a punch without hurting yourself."
no subject
"Well, I haven't had terribly much practice now, have I?
"Hexes and spells — well, those are different, somehow. But this ... it was, admittedly, quite improvised."
Bloody satisfying, though.
no subject
"But if you hit someone, then you get your hands dirty.
"Or broken."
There's a pause.
"Look, I'm not advocating any of this, or saying that's all right that you broke Regulus Black's nose, but ...
"Thank you."
no subject
And he'd have to wonder whether or not someone had taken a Polyjuice Potion and swapped themselves for her, really.
So what he does is smile.
"Of course, Evans," he says, as they reach the first floor leading to the Hospital Tower. "Honestly, they shouldn't even be talking like that at school. Aside from it being bloody annoying, it's just disgusting."
He shrugs.
"Besides, it was fun seeing the look on Regulus' face. But Elinor Perks seems to get herself into all sorts of wrong-place-wrong-time situations, doesn't she?"
no subject
There are questions she could ask here.
There are possibly even questions she should ask here.
But, while Lily is slowly coming to terms with certain things she's rather not have to come to terms with, James Potter is not, perhaps, the person she needs to hear say them outloud.
So what she asks is, "How's your hand?"
no subject
"Maybe it was a good thing you forced me to go to Madam Pomfrey," he concedes with a certain amount of reluctance. "It's looking a bit ... ugly.
"And it feels like it's taken a life of its own. I can feel it pulsing. Is that normal?"
no subject
She said 'please' and everything.
She looks at his hand.
"And no, that's not normal."
She pushes the door open to the infirmary.
"You sit down. I'll go find Madam Pomfrey."
no subject
Hah.
As if he'd ever have had a choice anyway.
Between her green eyes and her 'please''s, and McGonagall, Quentin March and Cliona Byrne, where was his other non-lethal option?
no subject
Lily returns after a moment with Madam Pomfrey, who examines Potter's hand, frowning and tsking.
She sets his hand in a bowl of Murtlap solution and promises to be right back with bone-mending potions.
"Better?" Lily asks.
no subject
As for his hand ...
"Yeah," he says.
It actually does feel better now.
"It's not pulsing anymore."
no subject
Lily breaks off, as the door opens again.
Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore come into the hospital wing.
... well, their not finding out was always kind of a long shot, going to see Madam Pomfrey or not.
no subject
And if he tries to make himself look smaller, like he could just disappear entirely, that's all Lily's imagination.
"Bugger," he mutters.
"Potter!" cries McGonagall shrilly. She and Dumbledore head towards them. "Can you explain just what is going on here? You would not believe the surprise I received when Professor Slughorn frantically knocked on my door with a bleeding boy in tow."
James clears his throat. "Well, you see, Professor —"
"He tells me Regulus Black and Severus Snape had just been manhandled by James Potter!"
"Wait. What? Professor, you don't actually believe —"
"But as if that wasn't all, I now see that besides acting irresponsibly and absolutely foolishly, you've gone and injured yourself a little less than two weeks before the final Quidditch match of the year!"
"Minerva," Professor Dumbledore says gently, "I think — perhaps — you might allow Poppy to finish mending Mr Potter's hand before we continue?"
Then he turns to Lily and offers her a smile. "Ah, and Miss Evans. How nice to see you here."
no subject
"Good evening, Professor Dumbledore," Lily says. "Professor McGonagall."
Lily is looking for something to say when Professor Dumbledore continues, "Would you mind, Miss Evans, if we spoke with Mr. Potter in private?"
"Oh, of course. I mean, I wouldn't mind at all."
She give Potter a quick, sympathetic look.
"I'll see you later, then," she says, to any of them.
Or all of them.
She lets herself back into the corridor.
no subject
Obviously.
By the front of Merlin's saggy Y-fronts, he does not want to be here right now.
This is bloody why he didn't want to come to the hospital wing.
(Even if the Murtlap essence is doing wonders for his bruises right now.)
"Right," he breathes out, turning back to the Headmaster and his Head of House, just as Madam Pomfrey comes back with the bone-mending potion.
"Now, dear," says Madam Pomfrey, opening the bottle topper, "this may cause you a bit of discomfort."