19. Fanfiction: James Potter: Hufflepuff
Title: James Potter: Hufflepuff
Author: Liliths_Requiem
Rating: PG
Characters:James Potter, Sirius Black
Pairings: genfic
Era: First War
Word Count:631
Prompt: Nest_of_Spiders Day Three
"It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."
-- Dumbledore, Chamber of Secrets.
The Order meeting breaks up moments after Edgar hands out his newest invention, a bottle of purple liquid that burns a person’s skin on contact. Sirius thinks the entire idea is a bit too Heracles-esque for his liking, but the Gryffindor keeps his mouth shut as the potion is poured into thirty bottles and distributed among the people gathered there. He sits and waits while the room empties out, and soon there is only himself and James, staring at each other from across the room and trying to convey their feelings using only their eyes.
“He isn’t here,” Sirius says, after the words get too intense to remain unsaid, “Don’t you see what that means Prongs? He isn’t here. Where else could he be? Dumbledore said shite about another mission. Moody actually looked surprise when Lupin, Remus went unanswered. No one knew where he was, not even us,” James’s stare is blank, as if he isn’t registering the words, as if this is all just nonsense that Sirius is spewing and any second now Remus will walk through the door, bloodied and bruised, and give them a parchment signed by Dumbledore explaining his absence. Sirius can’t admit to himself that he’s half-expecting the same thing. He lost faith in everything else so long ago, why keep faith in his friends? “Potter are you listening to me?”
James looks at him, honestly and truly, his hazel eyes burning with something more than hate and something less than the desire to kill. He’s never looked at Sirius like that before, he’s never looked at Sirius with anything close to contempt before. Not even after the incident with Snape did disgust roll off of James in waves, headed straight toward Sirius’s heart. The gray-eyes soldier looks at his friend with something bordering on fear, and James is forced to look away.
Staring at the mahogany wall of his wife’s old house, he shudders slightly and answers with a voice hardened by grief and loss and fear. “This is Remus we’re talking about, Black. You remember him? The first year with eyes older than Dumbledore’s? The way he shook when you smiled at him and shivered when you went to shake his hand, you remember that? Can you see his smile when you called him one of your best friends? Do you remember the ferverant loyalty he had when he told McGonagall that he was the one who poured ink on Snape’s head, just so you and I could play Quidditch that weekend? Can you see the fear in his eyes when we told him we knew? Do you remember the way he barreled into you when you laughed and told him it didn’t matter? Do you remember his forgiveness? His constant loyalty? Do you REMEMBER who we’re talking about Black?”
Sirius thinks about the way Andromeda always protected Regulus from his older cousins. He thinks about her easy control of Bellatrix’s dark side and the way she always knew how to calm her older sister down. He remembers how she could get Narcissa to do anything, no matter what it was, just by smiling at the blonde a certain way. And he can see her, plain as day, telling him secrets about Hogwarts and the Blacks. He remembers how he thought her loyalty was unending, how he thought his loyalty was as well, and he realizes that anyone’s loyalty has a breaking point. “I remember, James,” he says, his voice schooled into harsh ice, “And that’s why I’m telling you that we can’t trust him.”
James just turns away and walks out of the room, leaving Sirius to stand there and wonder how the hell his best friend wasn’t sorted into Hufflepuff and contemplate how much Gryffindor courage it’ll take to weather this storm.
Author: Liliths_Requiem
Rating: PG
Characters:James Potter, Sirius Black
Pairings: genfic
Era: First War
Word Count:631
Prompt: Nest_of_Spiders Day Three
"It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."
-- Dumbledore, Chamber of Secrets.
The Order meeting breaks up moments after Edgar hands out his newest invention, a bottle of purple liquid that burns a person’s skin on contact. Sirius thinks the entire idea is a bit too Heracles-esque for his liking, but the Gryffindor keeps his mouth shut as the potion is poured into thirty bottles and distributed among the people gathered there. He sits and waits while the room empties out, and soon there is only himself and James, staring at each other from across the room and trying to convey their feelings using only their eyes.
“He isn’t here,” Sirius says, after the words get too intense to remain unsaid, “Don’t you see what that means Prongs? He isn’t here. Where else could he be? Dumbledore said shite about another mission. Moody actually looked surprise when Lupin, Remus went unanswered. No one knew where he was, not even us,” James’s stare is blank, as if he isn’t registering the words, as if this is all just nonsense that Sirius is spewing and any second now Remus will walk through the door, bloodied and bruised, and give them a parchment signed by Dumbledore explaining his absence. Sirius can’t admit to himself that he’s half-expecting the same thing. He lost faith in everything else so long ago, why keep faith in his friends? “Potter are you listening to me?”
James looks at him, honestly and truly, his hazel eyes burning with something more than hate and something less than the desire to kill. He’s never looked at Sirius like that before, he’s never looked at Sirius with anything close to contempt before. Not even after the incident with Snape did disgust roll off of James in waves, headed straight toward Sirius’s heart. The gray-eyes soldier looks at his friend with something bordering on fear, and James is forced to look away.
Staring at the mahogany wall of his wife’s old house, he shudders slightly and answers with a voice hardened by grief and loss and fear. “This is Remus we’re talking about, Black. You remember him? The first year with eyes older than Dumbledore’s? The way he shook when you smiled at him and shivered when you went to shake his hand, you remember that? Can you see his smile when you called him one of your best friends? Do you remember the ferverant loyalty he had when he told McGonagall that he was the one who poured ink on Snape’s head, just so you and I could play Quidditch that weekend? Can you see the fear in his eyes when we told him we knew? Do you remember the way he barreled into you when you laughed and told him it didn’t matter? Do you remember his forgiveness? His constant loyalty? Do you REMEMBER who we’re talking about Black?”
Sirius thinks about the way Andromeda always protected Regulus from his older cousins. He thinks about her easy control of Bellatrix’s dark side and the way she always knew how to calm her older sister down. He remembers how she could get Narcissa to do anything, no matter what it was, just by smiling at the blonde a certain way. And he can see her, plain as day, telling him secrets about Hogwarts and the Blacks. He remembers how he thought her loyalty was unending, how he thought his loyalty was as well, and he realizes that anyone’s loyalty has a breaking point. “I remember, James,” he says, his voice schooled into harsh ice, “And that’s why I’m telling you that we can’t trust him.”
James just turns away and walks out of the room, leaving Sirius to stand there and wonder how the hell his best friend wasn’t sorted into Hufflepuff and contemplate how much Gryffindor courage it’ll take to weather this storm.