James Fleamont Potter (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
primevenison) wrote2021-04-21 11:35 pm
primevenison) wrote2021-04-21 11:35 pm
Werewolf AU
He'd had the Christmas break to get used to it. That was... something. Not a lot. Not enough to actually get his head around what the deep, purpling wounds in his calf meant, or how to stop his mum and dad looking at him with that muted grief, or even whether this was his last year of school. After all, one werewolf had been a risk. Two werewolves were...
Two werewolves. Moony and... whoever the hell James was now. Two werewolves was never going to fly with anyone.
Of course, he had advantages that Remus hadn't had. He had wealthy parents with connections, and a good relationship with the Headmaster, and enough knowledge of the situation to remind Dumbledore that making anything public was going to screw everyone over, Godric only knew what it would do to the school's reputation, and Dumbledore himself could kiss goodbye to any kind of teaching job. (With the very definite undertone that James, or rather Monty Potter, would make bloody sure of it. James wasn't above threats at a time like this. Not with Moony's life on the line.) He had, at the very least, bought them all some time. He was pretty sure he'd brazened out any suggestion of Sirius' involvement - even if Dumbledore hadn't believed that James knew for a fact Sirius hadn't told Snape a goddamn thing, James had made it pretty clear that was the story he was sticking to - enough that all four Marauders were there for at least another term. And he'd had the Christmas break to get used to it.
Still, it was a very changed James Potter who came back to school in January. He did his best to hide it, especially at first - in fact, for the first week back, he was actually even louder and more obnoxious than he usually was, hooting and hollering and amping the pranks more than ever. That didn't last. Before long, he'd settled down into... well, not normal. Not anything close to normal. But enough of a facsimile of it to laugh off any suggestion that he wasn't okay. Bad news over the hols, he told anyone who asked, that was all. Rough few months for the Potter clan. It was fine. He was fine.
And then, just when he was starting to fake it semi-convincingly (although it was noticeable that he'd pulled away from both Sirius and Lily Evans to a previously unheard-of extent), the moon waxed to full, and the shit really hit the fan.
He'd almost let himself believe it was all a fuss over nothing. Maybe the bite hadn't been that bad. After all, it had only been one bite, and not the worst bite, and maybe it hadn't been enough to turn him. Maybe all of this would blow over. But the moon waxed, and James' health waned along with Remus'. He missed Quidditch practice, which never happened. He looked sallow, tired, stiff. The morning after the moon, there were only two Marauders at breakfast, eating silently and not looking at each other. The day after that, James left the Hospital Wing without a hint of his usual ebullience, and with a fresh scar snaking across his face.
He headed for the Common Room, hands in his pockets - alone, for once; he and Remus had shared a few words on the way back from the Hospital Wing and agreed that James really wasn't up to being a Marauder today. He was just going to hide in a corner, pretend to nap, and try to figure out just what the hell was going to happen next.
He hesitated halfway in, though, seeing a familiar redhead already in one of the overstuffed chairs. He hadn't spoken to Lily since... well. Before he was this. It didn't seem right. She didn't deserve to get pulled into all that. And, besides, he had no idea what Snape might or might not have told her, the slimy little bastard.
So? He gave himself a mental slap in the face. It's your common room, dickhead. You're allowed to be in it. With a little sigh, he shuffled into the room fully and headed, limping slightly, for his habitual seat near the fire.
Two werewolves. Moony and... whoever the hell James was now. Two werewolves was never going to fly with anyone.
Of course, he had advantages that Remus hadn't had. He had wealthy parents with connections, and a good relationship with the Headmaster, and enough knowledge of the situation to remind Dumbledore that making anything public was going to screw everyone over, Godric only knew what it would do to the school's reputation, and Dumbledore himself could kiss goodbye to any kind of teaching job. (With the very definite undertone that James, or rather Monty Potter, would make bloody sure of it. James wasn't above threats at a time like this. Not with Moony's life on the line.) He had, at the very least, bought them all some time. He was pretty sure he'd brazened out any suggestion of Sirius' involvement - even if Dumbledore hadn't believed that James knew for a fact Sirius hadn't told Snape a goddamn thing, James had made it pretty clear that was the story he was sticking to - enough that all four Marauders were there for at least another term. And he'd had the Christmas break to get used to it.
Still, it was a very changed James Potter who came back to school in January. He did his best to hide it, especially at first - in fact, for the first week back, he was actually even louder and more obnoxious than he usually was, hooting and hollering and amping the pranks more than ever. That didn't last. Before long, he'd settled down into... well, not normal. Not anything close to normal. But enough of a facsimile of it to laugh off any suggestion that he wasn't okay. Bad news over the hols, he told anyone who asked, that was all. Rough few months for the Potter clan. It was fine. He was fine.
And then, just when he was starting to fake it semi-convincingly (although it was noticeable that he'd pulled away from both Sirius and Lily Evans to a previously unheard-of extent), the moon waxed to full, and the shit really hit the fan.
He'd almost let himself believe it was all a fuss over nothing. Maybe the bite hadn't been that bad. After all, it had only been one bite, and not the worst bite, and maybe it hadn't been enough to turn him. Maybe all of this would blow over. But the moon waxed, and James' health waned along with Remus'. He missed Quidditch practice, which never happened. He looked sallow, tired, stiff. The morning after the moon, there were only two Marauders at breakfast, eating silently and not looking at each other. The day after that, James left the Hospital Wing without a hint of his usual ebullience, and with a fresh scar snaking across his face.
He headed for the Common Room, hands in his pockets - alone, for once; he and Remus had shared a few words on the way back from the Hospital Wing and agreed that James really wasn't up to being a Marauder today. He was just going to hide in a corner, pretend to nap, and try to figure out just what the hell was going to happen next.
He hesitated halfway in, though, seeing a familiar redhead already in one of the overstuffed chairs. He hadn't spoken to Lily since... well. Before he was this. It didn't seem right. She didn't deserve to get pulled into all that. And, besides, he had no idea what Snape might or might not have told her, the slimy little bastard.
So? He gave himself a mental slap in the face. It's your common room, dickhead. You're allowed to be in it. With a little sigh, he shuffled into the room fully and headed, limping slightly, for his habitual seat near the fire.