Chapter Text
Some people would call the warm, sticky environment that James was in daunting or overwhelming. In all honesty, he'd never felt more alive within the glow of glory and the sweat of celebrating the achievements of his lifelong passion. Maybe people would think him strange for his odd appreciation of stimulation but he'd never quite known a life without it. Not without a gentle tapping in the backround, the sounds of ragged breaths after a match, the flicker of the eternal candle in his bedroom.
James Potter was never stagnant, never still. Quite like water; he had to move or else he'd grow sour or laced with aggression; it was a feeling he hated, not because of his own discomfort but for those around him. He was the dynamic friend.
Part of that was why him and Lily hadn't worked out. She was funny and smart and beautiful but at the end of the day, needed control and calmness. She'd try so hard not to snap whenever James bounced his leg or tapped a beat onto the table, but over time, that irritation built up and James didn't ever want to feel like he was too much for her; hence the agreement to remain amicable.
Lily had gone over to Sirius's brother's table, and was chatting with the blonde with long wavy hair—Pandora, he remembered—about something lively and funny. James had long moved past her, he had to have, but loving someone like Lily for so long left an L shaped mark in his heart whenever he saw her be more herself with someone that wasn't him. It was a reminder of how he'd failed her.
Sensing his slow spiral, Sirius clicked his fingers in front of James's face to get his attention.
'Oi, no zoning out on us now, Prongs.' His face was slightly flushed, from the drinks or proximity to his boyfriend, James didn't know.
'Sorry, were you saying something?' James angled his body to face Remus and Sirius more, cutting thoughts of Lily from his mind.
'We were wondering when Peter would finish his shift,' Remus replied, propping his head on his hand. He hadn't quite recovered from the full moon two days prior, still quite pale and sore.
'Seven, was it?' James checked his watch, the maroon backing letting the golden accents shine six forty-seven. 'About thirteen minutes left.'
'I haven't seen him serve anyone today, have you?' Sirius asked. He slowly removed Remus's hands from under his jaw and nudged his boyfriend's face to fall on his own shoulder.
'Nah, he's at the front today. I saw him as we walked by.'
'Ever observant, Prongs.'
'Keep up, Padfoot,' James smiled at him. 'Pete's telling me when I have to do my speech, so I had to know his schedule.'
'Maybe he's just a good friend, Sirius?' Remus asked cheekily, turning his head to face Sirius's.
'Maybe,' Sirius mused, shifting slightly to face him. He pecked him lightly on the lips, once, then twice.'
'Ugh, you guys are gross,' James remarked, rolling his eyes at his friends.
'You clearly didn't see Regulus earlier,' Remus responded.
James's eyes flicked to where Regulus was sitting, body turned to face Barty Crouch's, clearly berating him on something. He felt a small grin slide onto his face; Regulus housed such a similar attitute to Sirius.
'What? Was he kissing somebody?' Sirius asked sharply, noticeably stiffening.
'Some girl on the floor earlier,' Remus clarified. James felt an odd lurch in his stomach. 'I'm surprised you didn't see. It looked passionate, if not for him leaving very quickly.'
'Ugh, what has my brother become…' Sirius sighed, massaging his temples exaggeratedly. James snorted.
'Mate, he was such a casanova during our and his final year. I remember having to go back to Hogwarts often because of Dumbledore and seeing him with a different girl every single time.'
'Yet he somehow got outstanding on every NEWT?' Sirius tutted.
'You got the same results, love.'
'Yeah, with one boyfriend.'
James leant back onto the wall of the booth, biting on his nails. 'Has Regulus ever been in a proper relationship, then?'
Sirius shrugged, glancing at his brother, who noticed him and flipped him off. 'Not that he's told me, but he did seem involved with someone in our sixth year. I asked him about it and he just seemed confused, so…'
'Mm.' James said articulatedly.
'Anyways, less about Regulus and more about you, Jamsiepoo!' Sirius's voice grew in dramatic adoration.
'Of course, Siriustellarbabe!' James exclaimed, matching his friend's energy.
'You two are so codependent…' Remus sighed.
'So, Prongs, what is your speech about tonight?'
'Wouldn't you like to know?' James teased.
'Prongs!'
James sighed, looking into his best friend's eyes. 'Mate, I'm really nervous for it and would just generally not like to talk about it right now. Let's enjoy our last minutes before the press, no?'
Sirius pouted. 'Fine, I guess.'
Sensing the vague discomfort, Remus—bless him—pulled Sirius into a conversation about an interesting story with a previous client. James took it as his cue to tune out.
It wasn't a lie, James was quite nervous for the speech he had to do, but not particularly for the reason one might think. He wasn't afraid of public speaking; he was afraid of possible perceptions of him. He was planning on talking about the recent blood supremacy issues; of course, he didn't disagree with the topic at all, but such a topic could be daunting.
His image would be permanently tinted against most pure-blood organisations. He'd be counted as a blood traitor, of course. But it would also put a target on his back. For groups like the recentmost terrorist group that weren't afraid of Regulus Black, who had taken down the original.
He'd watched Dumbledore say more and more politically neutral things in public and, while wanting to make his stance on politics clear, didn't want to be in so much danger as to hide his support.
It was too late anyways. As the captain of the winning quidditch team in the United Kingdom, his statements were bound to get more and more politically inclined and controversial.
James exhaled. He didn't want to think about this anymore.
The song changed to a louder, more energetic song with a thumping bass that James could feel throughout his body, a heartbeat. The lights changed too, from green and red to dancing blue and yellow. Bodies joined the crowd in the center of the bar, making the room warmer and warmer until James's glasses fogged up slightly; he took them off and placed them on the table, watching people dance on the floor in a haze of blurred lights.
He could just make out blurred arms flailing to the deafening rhythm of the song, atop dark sihouettes of people, backlit with a golden that distinguished individuals.
James squinted as a familliar looking figure joined the dance floor, taller than most of the more feminine presenting people, but not the tallest. A head full of dark, curly hair, pale eyes, thin, long hands reaching for a girl's waist and jaw, cupping it…
Regulus Black?
James quickly put his glasses back on, ignoring the raised eyebrow from Remus, and his eyes trailed through the crowd until they locked back onto the back of Regulus's head as he very thoroughly kissed a girl. The girl was pretty, from the limited bits of her that James could see; she was tallish, with short curly hair, glasses and a shirt that was Puddlemere United themed.
He had to admit, their current interlocked figures, moving to the rhythm in a slow, careful dance, looked very idealistic. Regulus clearly knew what he was doing with how he was cupping the girl's face, almost like he had experience; which tracked considering their previous conversation.
He watched the two as golden halos danced around hair strands and their clothes became rimmed with a a flickering blue glow, reflective of the spinning disco ball above their heads.
Regulus's eyes flicked in James's direction and he instantly looked away.
God, what was he doing? He couldn't be looking at his best friend's brother like that.
Like what? A small voice in the back of his mind asked. Like you wish you were—-
He shut his thoughts down. He seriously had to stop fantasising about anyone just because the glimmers of light cast across their face looked really fucking good.
James said something idly to Remus to distract himself; it was so useless and trivial despite how it turned into a long conversation that James wouldn't even remember what it was about. He smiled like normal when Sirius joined in, and he shifted politely as Lily slid back into their side of the booth. He was perfectly fine, and not at all spiralling again, his longing to be what Lily needed long gone.
'Wormy!' Sirius exclaimed, sitting up straighter and gesturing with his hands.
Their friend and fellow marauder, Peter Pettigrew, grinned as he approached their table. He was still in his work uniform, his shift had just ended at the very bar they were at, but he stuffed his notepad in his pocket and leant on the table colloquially.
Peter was James's oldest friend; they'd grown up together in the countryside of a town and known each other long before Hogwarts. Consequentially, James believed himself as the closest to the man than the others, always reading him and understanding him better. And that wasn't to brag—Sirius and Remus had always been a bit more associated with James's interests rather than Peter's slightly more niche and unique ones.
The man, barely 5'5, used to be a jittering wreck. However, after a wellbeing group that he'd joined several months prior, James noticed that he'd grown increasingly more confident in himself and no longer stuttered or avoided eye contact. He'd never been prouder.
'James, you're up soon—Come up, yeah? We've got to get you ready.' Peter told him, greeting the others.
'What does he need to get ready for?' Sirius asked.
'Just some skin products should be applied so that he's photographed better for the prophet.'
James gulped. 'Right…how many news outlets did you say there were?'
Peter gave him a weak smile. 'The main ones, and some more underground ones to.'
'It's safe, right?' Lily asked skeptically. 'They're all trusted?'
'Of course, Lily. We have tight security. You'll be fine, Prongs, I promise. Now come on, we don't have too much time.'
James nodded and thanked Lily as she slipped out of the booth to let him through. He followed Peter to a backstage area where a woman he didn't recognise yanked his chin down and dabbed a clear goo onto his face, massaging it into his cheekbones and temples.
'That should also protect you from the blinding flashes,' The woman said in a low, raspy voice.
Yes, James had had previous issues with flashes of paparazzi—his eyesight, usually not very good to begin with, had been gradually becoming slower at recovering from the bright flashes.
'Thanks…uh,' James responded politely.
'Bella.'
'Thanks, Bella.' He gave her a small smile before he was ushered by someone he didn't know closer to the side of the stage, next to the steps leading up to the elevated platform. The band was just now wrapping up, the lights brightening as people made their way back to tables. As the dancing crowd in the middle dispersed, a collection of photographers, journalists and other people that James believed to be vaguely important, took seats near the stage, gazing at him expectantly.
Alright. This was it.
James took one breath to calm the butterflies in the lower pits of his stomach, and stepped onto the stage with a bright smile.
He could feel everyone's eyes turn to him, could feel the pricks of their gaze and judgement as he walked over to the center stage, wand in hand.
'Sonorous,' He murmured, pointing the want at his throat and feeling the slight lurch that came with the voice projecting spell.
'Hello everyone here today. I'm James Potter, as you may know, and in celebration of my Quidditch Team's win yesterday, I was encouraged to use this speech to raise attention to some current issues, as a I have a great opportunity to bring eyes to them.
'As some of you might know, our society has had an influx of blood-status targeted attack, most recently by a large, unnamed terrorist organisation that has attacked the Ministry twice, Hogwarts thrice and other magic-protected areas more than six times. There have been many injuries, and one death; a muggleborn named Yvonne Bailey.
'Of course, this group has been taken down by our very own Regulus Black,' James directed a hand to Regulus's general direction and waited for the light applause to die down. 'But other "copies" of the group are now rising.
'Obviously, this is an issue that is directly out of my hands. I obviously want it to stop, seeing as I know that our blood status does not dictate power or worth, but I don't have the power to stop the groups. I'm a quidditch player, I'll leave the doing to the aurors. What I can say, however, is this; turning a blind eye to attacks makes you as bad as the attackers. Believing in what the attackers do makes you as bad as the attackers. So many of you, especially those that are pure-blood, are only sympathetic because of the death that has occured, and too many of you lack basic empathy and knowledge on magical genetics.
'I'm going to encourage all of you, if you believe that muggle-borns or half-bloods are of less value than pure-bloods, to do a little bit of research. And even so, the biased attack on any group of people is never okay and—'
James saw it for a split second before it hit; a skinny, deep purple, jagged line of a spell from the back corner of the room. It twisted and flickered around, manouvering around people until it reached him, where it plunged forward into James. His first thought was that it was a spell of sorts, but the colour and the hungry determination of it was too odd and…
When had he fallen over? Suddenly, all he could see was the ceiling of the bar and some blurred faces. His breath hitched as a sharp, excruciating burning sensation began crawling around his torso, down his hip and leg and opening it, letting every part of him feel the icy air.
He didn't realise he'd been crying out until someone pointed their wand at him and whispered 'Quietus,' the counter-spell to his earlier projection one.
James twisted, searching for relief in any position but with every slight movement sent shockwaves down his whole body, twitches with every firey pulse of his rapid heart. He could no longer see the ceiling; whether it was because people were crowding around him, moving him around, or because his vision was fading, he didn't know.
James had been through a lot of pain. He'd fallen off broomsticks hundreds of meters high, tripped down stairs while holding heavy boxes, broken half the bones in his body in the impact of a cast explosion when he and Lily had been ambushed a few years prior. Nothing at all compared to the hungry pain of whatever that purple spell had been; it was eating him, stealing any ghost of sweet nothingness and overtaking every sense with blinding burns.
His vision faded in and out over the next few minutes, no, hours—no, days? James had no idea. He tried not to cry whenever he came back to conciousness as feeling where every limb was was only more and more agonising.
Sirius's face was one of the first glimpses he saw, over his head and moving with him, like he perhaps was one of the people carrying him.
Why were they carrying him? Was he in such a bad state that they couldn't apparate?
All questions immediately diminished when James got a better look at Sirius's face. His nose was red, eyes watery, but his mouth was pressed into a firm, determined line. James was immediately riddled with guilt for making his best friend feel such a way that salt streams were carving their ways down his face.
James also remembered the sudden glare of the sun as he was taken outside, and how passing by the door he caught a glimpse of Regulus Black's face, paler than usual with worry and concern etching his eyes. It was the most care he'd ever shown to James.
The glimpses got less frequent and quicker after that. He remembered the lobby to St. Mungos hospital, the brighter swish of spells worked on him compared to the dark hiss, and the stale white ceiling.
He thought he saw the face of someone familiar once more before everything faded into darkness.
-
The first thing James felt later after hours of dreamless sleep, natural or given to him, he was unsure, was the throbbing. The pain had died down to a quiet, uncomfortable thrum. It was no longer all over his body, rather it was down the left side of his torso, around his hip and left thigh.
His body was tense; he had an instinct that if he moved, he might feel the effects of whatever that spell was.
James lay silently for minutes, regaining his senses; he could feel the while sheets of a hospital underneath him, could hear the low buzz of a supportive spell.
It was almost terrifying, how clearly James could remember when he'd been hit. It had been as if time had slowed, the spell weaving around people to reach to him. He'd never seen any spell do that.
James stiffened. Had someone intentionally hurt him…because of what he'd been saying about blood supremacy? To send a message of sorts?
A chill crept down his spine.
James slowly opened his eyes, suppressing a wince as bright lights flooded his vision. His sight was blurred, without his glasses, but he could make out a soft head of dark blond hair.
'Remus?' James croaked, voice hoarse from disuse.
His friend's head snapped up, eyes meeting his and crinkling into a relieved smile.
'Hey, Prongs. Gave us a bit of a fright there, no?'
James heard the soft thud of probably a book hitting a table, and saw Remus stand up, looking around and raising a hand to signal a nurse.
A small, round medi-witch appeared above James.
'Mr. Potter—'
'Call me James,' He insisted.
'Ehm, alright. James. How are you feeling?'
'Better than I did earlier.'
The medi-witch grimaced. 'Yeah, that's a relief. Do you feel a throbbing of sorts?'
'Yeah. Sort of down my torso, hip and leg.'
'Mm. Do you reckon you could sit up?'
James paused. He definitely wanted to; watching the ceiling would definitely become outlandishly boring over the hours he assume he'd have to stay in bed.
'Yes,' James said, half lying. He could handle the pain.
He didn't miss the raised eyebrow from the mediwitch.
'…Alright.' She walked over to the other side of the bed and waved her wand, casting what he recognised as a body lightening spell. He could feel the effects immediately, and pushed down on his elbows.
The lifting of his upper body, from the shoulders up, was not the problem. It was instead, when his hip flexed, that a sharp pain shot through his entire body.
'Shit.' He muttered gracefully, ignoring Remus's concerned eyes. Still, he pushed through the pain, torturous as it was, and sat up, leaning against the head of his bed.
The room he was in was smaller than most of the ones he'd been in St. Mungos. It was private, with just his bed, a few chairs and a counter. The walls were painted light purple, the irony not lost on James.
It was definitely a different ward than he'd ever been to. The equipment and trinkets looked unfamiliar, only vaguely resembling some objects in Dumbledore's office.
Remus was seated on the nearest chair, still watching him carefully. The mediwitch had moved to the counter, and was fetching something out of a yellow bottle. She walked over and handed it to James.
'Is this medicine?' He asked, feeling stupid when Remus and the witch shared a glance.
'I'll let Mr. Lupin explain everything,' She avoided the question, leaving promptly and closing the door behind her.
'…what?'
Remus sighed. 'Look James, the spell you were hit with wasn't a spell. It was a curse. Not like the unforgiveables; a real curse. Of course, being in front of very high order people, its spreading was stopped before it could be any real damage.'
'A curse?' James asked. Curses were rare in England, especially on someone like him. They were only used in battle or in dark networks, not in broad daylight. 'I thought a curse would be more specialised, no?'
'Nah, this one was not like the hanahaki. It's a curse of chinese origin, designed to mimick both the feeling of burning alive and the physical effects of it. Except the physical effects skip the skin stage and go straight for the bone.'
James winced. 'Ugh. That explains a bit,'
Remus snorted. 'You're handling it a lot better. I was warned that you might go into a breakdown or something.'
He shrugged. 'Yeah, well. I already knew it wasn't a normal sort of spell. And I could sort of, you know, feel the sensation of burning bone.'
'Don't tell me that please,' Remus pleaded, paling. James was going to make a joke about him turning into a werewold every month but was interrupted as Remus continued: 'We were all worried sick about you. They didn't turn off your projection for minutes. We all had to hear you cry like that, James.'
James closed his mouth, a lump in his throat.
'I've never seen Sirius so scared before. He just sat there, frozen, until he started leaping up and yelling orders to everyone to help you. Lily vomited all over her dress.'
At James's silence, Remus sighed. 'I'm not blaming you at all, James, don't feel guilty. It was just terrifying.'
'I'm sorr—'
'No, Prongs.' Remus laughed mirthlessly. 'Seriously. I've seen you fall off of your broom and still give us a thumbs up and a smile because you don't want us to worry.'
'I'm…not sorry?' James said slowly. He flushed. He'd never been the best at talking in awkward situations; he didn't want to explain or let any more hint of how much his body had hurt in that moment. It was unrivaled.
Remus just chuckled and shook his head.
'Sirius is with your parents filling out paperwork,' He mentioned. 'They'll be back soon. Peter is at work, Lily is with Mary and Marlene.'
'At work? I thought Pete had two days off?'
Remus stared at him. 'James.'
He stared back. 'I was out for two days?'
'Four, actually.'
James turned his head back, looking at his bed. 'I thought…'
'Yeah.'
'…Ok. Well, what now?'
As if on cue, the door to his room opened to reveal the same mediwitch as before, James's mother and father, and Sirius standing there, mid conversation.
Sirius lit up the moment his blue eyes caught James's, and he launched himself at him, arms curled around his shoulders. James laughed into the crook of his neck.
'Careful, Pads.'
Sirius winced, pulling away. 'You're not in too much pain, right?'
James shook his head. 'Only when I move a lot.'
He turned to his parents, smiling sheepishly. 'Hi Amma, hi papá,'
Effie immediately enveloped James in a soft hug, being careful as to not hurt him too much.
'Ci hai fatto paura,' His father muttered, curling his arm around his son's shoulders and giving them a squeeze. You gave us a bit of a scare.
'Ah, mi dispiace,' James responded. Oh, I'm sorry.
His dad chuckled lightly and stepped out of the way to let the mediwitch through. Sirius was already seated next to Remus, arm curled in his and fingers intertwined. James's parents leant on the wall across from his bed while the witch crouched down in front of James.
'Alright, your vitals are fine. Let's talk about where we're going to go from here,' She said in a kind voice. Her tag, that of which James hadn't noticed previously, read Luka. 'As your friend has informed you, this curse has already been expelled from your body. Its affects haven't.'
She picked up a clipboard. 'Let's see…the main areas of damage to your body are your hip bone, your ribs, and your upper femur. Primarily the hip.'
She placed a paper down on the bedside table, filled with cursive scribbles. 'Here are the rest of the details; I won't bother with technicalities, you can look at it all on there and ask me questions if you need. Now, your mobility still feels very limited, yes?'
James nodded stiffly.
'It'll feel that way for about a day, before all our enchantments kick in. We'll keep you in a wheelchair for a week, and by the end of it we'll reevaluate you and you may be able to simply use a cane for the next few months.'
'A cane?' James asked stupidly. 'What about quidditch?'
The mediwitch raised her eyebrows. 'You're lucky it's off season. If you recover and rest well, you may be able to return to your position next year.'
James silently pumped a fist, too afraid to risk altering his recovery trajectory.
'Don't get too excited, James. It's recovery first.'