The Stag and The Harpy | James Potter

Invitation

Phoebe sits nervously in the hospital wing, still clad in her Gryffindor apparel. She'd told Sirius to go celebrate with the team so here she was, perched awkwardly in her uncomfortable chair. She sighs and starts tapping her fingers on her leg, dancing them to the beat of a song in her head.

"What are you doing?"

Phoebe jumps, clutching at her chest.

"Dear Merlin! Do you have to be such a tosser and scare me like that?!" Phoebe gasps, eyeing the boy in the bed.

James smiles a little and closes his eyes. Phoebe softens slightly when she looks at the pathetic bandage wrapped around his head. He has a matching one on his arm.

"Madam Pomfrey said you'll be fine in a couple of days," Phoebe says gently. He opens his eyes again and Phoebe is startled by the amount of green in them when they aren't hindered by his glasses. She'd always thought they were hazel. Lily once said they looked like swamp water.

"You didn't answer my question, Griffin," James says, turning on his side to full face her. He winces as he moves and Phoebe reaches out to help him situate himself.

"I forgot what you asked me," She admits.

"What were you doing? Tapping on your leg."

She smiles a little and says bashfully, "Practicing."

James raises a brow, beckoning her to continue.

She doesn't know why she does, but she sighs and says, "The cello. My mother used to make me tap the notes on my leg. It's a habit now."

His lips twitch a little. "You play the cello?"

Phoebe nods and shrugs, "I had to pick an instrument."

"You seem to like quidditch an awful lot. How come you can't play?"

She smiles ruefully and looks away, murmuring, "No sports. Just music or dance. I'm too clumsy for ballet."

James snorts, "Now that is true."

Phoebe laughs and flips him off, "Sod off, Potter."

James smiles at her laugh, soaking up the warmth that emanates from her. He takes in her eyes up close now, observing without the risk of another bludger.

"What?" She asks. "Is something on my face?"

James chuckles and shakes his head. "No," He says. "I've just never seen you with that stuff on your eyes."

Phoebe smirks and replies, "It's makeup. And I've been told it suits me."

James doesn't know why he lets his thoughts escape him so easily, but he does. "It does. Very pretty."

Phoebe narrows her eyes. "Why are you being nice?"

"Perhaps I'm just a nice bloke."

"We both know that the last thing you and I would consider each other is nice."

"Maybe," James says, shrugging.

"I tried to save your pride with Lily," Phoebe admits. "If that's why you're being nice to me, I have to tell you it won't work. She thinks you're even more of a moron now."

James rolls his eyes, mumbling, "Whatever. I was distracted."

"By her beauty?" She teases, waggling her eyebrows. James clears his throat and looks away from her, feeling nervous.

"Yeah," He says half heartedly, unwilling to admit that the girl that distracted him was not in fact Lily Evans.

"Well it was a bloody good match," Phoebe says, sensing his shame. James perks up and grins slightly.

"It was good, wasn't it?" He laughs, sitting up slightly in bed. His heart clenches a little when Phoebe helps him up so he can lean back. He winces at the pounding in his head, but distracts himself by saying,

"I didn't realize you were such a quidditch fan."

Phoebe smiles and shrugs saying simply, "You don't know a lot of things about me, Potter."

"Oh it's Potter again?" He teases. "I seem to remember you calling me James."

Phoebe rolls her eyes and says, "I was trying to get your attention. A bloody bludger was coming your way."

James laughs and settles back into his pillows, studying the Veela sat next to him as subtly as possible.

"It's truly a shame that quidditch is over until after the holidays," She says disappointedly. "I do think that a chaser from Hufflepuff is staying at hogwarts. Perhaps he'll let me watch him practice."

James felt an odd and uncomfortable emotion growing in his chest at the thought of her being alone, watching a Hufflepuff boy play quidditch.

"That won't be necessary," He says quickly. Phoebe raises her eyebrow at him and looks at him with a bemused smile.

"You're coming home with me and Sirius." He states firmly, watching as her eyes widen.

"Potter, that's rather kind but I can't."

"And why not?" James asks, furrowing his brows despite the pain it shoots into his forehead.

Phoebe hesitates, avoiding his eyes. "It's rude of me to impose on you and your family. Plus my mother..."

"Your mother doesn't have to know. And you won't impose. I swear it."

"She says it's not safe for me to travel willy nilly. My mother would—"

"Griffin, you're coming with. That's final." James huffs, fighting back a smile at her surprised expression.

Her frown turns into the smallest smile. "Fine," She says reluctantly. "But only because I'm pretty sure Sirius will kidnap me if I try to stay."

James grins widely, surprised by the warmth in his chest at the sight of her smile.

"Ah, Mr. Potter. You're awake," Madam Pomfrey says monotonously as she appears.

"Poppy, it's lovely to see you again," James coos, narrowly avoiding a swat on the arm from Phoebe. She looks at him disapprovingly, but James sees her lips twitching at the corners.

Madam Pomfrey sighs, "You're in this bed far too much for my liking. Seeing as Miss Griffin is here, you're welcome to return to your dormitory. Only if you're willing to help him there, Miss. Griffin."

Phoebe nods and says softly, "Of course, Madam Pomfrey. I'll be glad to get him out of your hair."

James slowly sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed. Madam Pomfrey waved goodbye from the bedside of another student as James and Phoebe slowly make their way out of the hospital wing and towards Gryffindor Tower.

"I think this is the longest we've gone without arguing," Phoebe points out as they walk.

James smirks mischievously and says, "I think you're right, Griffin. Best change that."

He grabs the ends of her blonde locks and tugs harshly, making the girl yell, "Ouch!"

"Dammit, Potter," She curses, elbowing him in the side and stalking off ahead of him.

"Wait," He cries, "You're supposed to walk me back."

"Fuck off!"