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.
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He waved a hand as if to say You know what I mean. Remus was a lot of things, but he wasn't a complainer. He kept his pain under wraps, and even knowing that, it was hard to get a grip on just how much the moons actually affected him. Besides, seeing it was one thing. Feeling it was something else entirely. A few times already, he'd thought of the fact that Remus had been living with this since he was a child, and it made James' heart ache. Which...
Well. One more ache for the pile, he supposed.
He took a sip of his tea, closing his eyes for a moment. What she was suggesting shouldn't have been a difficult decision. It worked on every level, really. He got to hang out with Lily, his grades wouldn't suffer, and he didn't have to be alone. So why was he hesitating?
"Your notes are probably better than Pete's," he admitted, after a moment, and looked up to give her a wry half-smile that almost looked like his own. "I was going to say I've got Quidditch practice, but, well..." His nose wrinkled, and again, there was that little handwave. He sighed, looked back down at his tea. "I'd like that. Thanks."
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"Tomorrow afternoon before dinner then - and we can go over the things that are due at the end of the week, so you're prepared." After a brief moment of internal debate, Lily wrapped her arm around James's shoulders, drawing him close again. He still looked like he needed a hug, and she was holding him to the promise of not hitting on her.
"This is only until you're back to your usual self of course," Lily chanced a playful smile in his direction, teasing him while trying to enforce the idea that he would bounce back from this. He was James Potter, after all, he was larger than life when he wanted to be. "Don't want you getting spoiled because I'm fussing over you and you aren't even poorly."
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And, anyway, it was his job. It always had been, whether they admitted it or not. He was a leader, down to the bone. It just... sucked, sometimes, when you needed to collapse instead.
"Evans?" He didn't open his eyes, and his voice had lowered again, despite the Silencing Charm. "I, uh... just so you know. If you need someone to complain to. You should probably know that Sni... that Snape knows, as well."
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There was a lot that had yet to sink in for Lily - the long-term complications that would plague James and Remus both once they were out from the protective umbrella she imagined Dumbledore and the other professors must provide would be something she dwelled on, but not just then.
Even if her thoughts had managed to go down that particular road they would have been derailed. When James mentioned Severus knowing what had happened Lily felt her heart still in her chest, the news sitting in her stomach like a lump of ice, leaving her uncertain how to process this piece of information.
After a long moment of quiet Lily drew a breath before speaking in a voice that matched his in softness, "I don't think complaining to Severus about you would help anybody."
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Not about him - it wasn't like it was any secret that he and Snape hated each other's guts, and at this point, there wasn't anything the slimeball could say about James that would actually sting. But if Lily talked to Snape about any of this, then Sirius' part in it was going to come out, and while James had felt it was only fair to let her know who else was in on the secret, he really didn't want her to know about that. Not when Sirius was already in such a funk, and not when Lily was the one person who knew about the bite who didn't know it was Sirius' fault. James might still be angry at his friend, but he still cared about him, too. He didn't want to make things worse.
He shifted a little, tightened his hands around the mug of tea. For a moment more, he was silent - and, truthfully, struggling not to fall asleep on her shoulder - but then he cleared his throat, frowning a little.
"You know what would help? You using that amazing brain of yours to help me come up with a better alibi. 'Cause I've got a cold isn't really cutting it, huh?"