The Stag and The Harpy | James Potter

Glass

"What did those slytherins want at the station earlier, Pheebs?"

The girl looks up from where she's moving her pudding around to meet Sirius' gaze. She winces internally, secretly hoping that her friend either hadn't seen or would've forgotten. The truth was, she wasn't sure sharing was really the best idea. The slytherin boys had gotten under her skin, and they were sure to do the same to Sirius as a consequence.

"Well," Phoebe starts slowly. She tries to remain calm, soothing even. "They were just giving me a hard time."

"A hard time about what?" James jumps in from next to his best mate, clenching his fist around his glass. He couldn't help but look away from the Veela and towards the Slytherin table. Already looking their way was Evan Rosier and Andrew Mulciber. The boys smirked and turned to eachother to say something that James couldn't make out.

Phoebe's soft voice reroutes his attention to her, "They said that..." She hesitates, eyeing the way Sirius is already scowling. "They said that the only thing a being like myself was good for is to be tied up and—" Phoebe tries desperately to find a replacement for the vulgar words the boys said earlier.

"Used." She finally concludes, setting her spoon down gently against her plate. Sirius' scowl deepens and he flies to his feet. His plate and utensils clatter loudly, drawing the attention of many students and a few teachers.

"Sirius," Phoebe says urgently. "Sit down. Now."

"I'm going to fucking kill them," He seethes, nostrils flaring. Remus, the peace keeper, says quietly, "Padfoot. Leave it for now."

James turns back to the slytherins, disgusted to see them looking at the back of Phoebe's head. His fist tightens harder around the glass, eyes narrowing into slits. Phoebe is too focused on Sirius to notice James, desperate for her friend to contain himself.

"Sirius, please," She begs, reaching across the table to grab his hand. She glances around the table to see Lily and Alice and Peter with wide eyes. Marlene has a frown on her face as she looks up at Sirius standing next to her. Phoebe tightens her grip on his hand, whispering, "It's fine. I'm fine."

A glass shatters loudly, causing Phoebe to jump nearly out of her seat. She quickly looks at James, his shoulders raising and falling aggressively with his breathing. Where the glass in his hands once was is now a mess of shards and blood.

"Merlin," Remus whispers from beside her, staring at his friend. James scowls, finally tearing his gaze away from the smug pair of slytherins. Anger boils inside of him, drawing every spite filled and hateful word to the tip of his tongue. He clenches his jaw and finally meets Phoebe's shocked gaze. He spits out, "It is not fine."

He stands and marches out of the great hall, leaving behind his gaping group of friends. Phoebe stares at the shattered glass on the table, deeply regretting telling them about the incident. She looks at Sirius and asks softly, "Can you control yourself if I leave?"

His mouth is held in a tight line that funnily enough reminds her of her mother. He stares at her for a long, silent moment. Their grey eyes, so similar they could be related, seem to convey what they're thinking. He finally nods once before sitting down, glaring at his plate. Phoebe sends the girls a reassuring smile before whispering to Remus and Peter, "Watch him."

The Veela climbs to her feet and hurries out of the great hall and towards the Gryffindor tower. Not one for exercise, the girl is practically panting by the time she crawls through the portrait hole. She searches the common room for James, but when she comes up short she begins to climb the spiral staircase to the boys dorm. Phoebe knocks on the door, eyes widening when she hears a crash coming from inside.

"James," she calls, pounding on the wooden door. No answer. She scowls and pounds again, yelling, "Dammit, Potter! Open up!"

The door suddenly swings open, revealing a disheveled and enraged James. "What?" He snaps. Phoebe flinches, taking a step back. James feels a sudden twinge in his heart at the sight of her recoiling. He softens and says quietly, "Sorry."

"It's okay."

The girl side steps him, eyes widening slightly at the sight of his overturned trunk and scattered items. She decides against addressing the very obvious hole in the wall. Instead, she glances down at his cut up hand and says firmly,

"Sit."

James just stares at her blankly.

"Do I have to repeat myself? I said sit, Potter!"

James sighs and does as she demands, sitting down on the end of his poster bed. He covers up a wince when she takes his cut hand in hers. For a moment, he marvels at how large his hand is in comparison to hers.

"You're a fucking moron."

"You're too kind, Griffin."

The Veela's lips twitch into a smile at his sarcastic words. He watches quietly as she pulls out her wand and whispers, pointing it towards his palm, "Episky."

He watches wordlessly as his skin knits itself back together, leaving behind a tiny pink line.

"Sorry about the scar. Healing isn't really my forte."

James shakes his head, waving off her statement. They are silent, her standing between his legs while he sits and stares up at her. A million thoughts run through his head as he looks at her, appraising her weary smile.

"Why don't you let us stand up for you?"

Phoebe frowns at his words and sighs, mulling over her words. She finally responds gently, "Because it won't do anything."

"That's not—"

"It is. It's true. Beating them up, pranking them...it will only make things worse."

James looks away from her, his throat tight. He exhales harshly, floored by the anger and sympathy and injustice he feels. She shouldn't have to hear the things they've said. The things he knows other boys and men have said. And people like them, people that think only pure bloods should exist...it made a new fear root deep within James. A fear for his friends and their families. Fear for Phoebe and his parents.

She doesn't know what compels her to do it, but she releases his hand and gently cups his cheek, turning his troubled gaze back to her. James sighs and says defeatedly, "I hope you know none of what they say is true."

"Of course. I'm of way more use when I'm not tied up," She says suggestively. James chuckles and rolls his eyes at her cheekiness inspite of the serious moment. "Besides, who would annoy you if Rosier and Mulciber had me all locked up?"

His heart clenches at the thought of her locked away by the filthy Slytherins.

"I won't let that happen." He says firmly. Phoebe smiles gently and nods. James reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, letting his thumb linger on her cheek. His eyes fall to her perfect pout and he inhales sharply. He wonders briefly if kissing her was as good as he remembered the whole summer. Phoebe too glances at the lips in front of her, chewing nervously on the inside of her own when she realizes how close they are. James let's his thumb travel it's way to her mouth, stroking the soft skin of her face as he goes. He gently runs his thumb along her lower lip and whispers throatily, "Phoebe—"

Remus and Peter burst into the dorm, sending Phoebe and James flying apart from each other.

"Don't worry guys," Peter says loudly. "Marlene is calming Sirius down...in a broom closet."

Remus sighs at his wording but pauses when he notices the flushed cheeks and embarrassed looks of his friends. A slow grin works it's way up his face.

"Did we interrupt something?"

"Nope!"

"Goodnight!"

Phoebe and James speak in unison, not sparing each other another glance as Phoebe races from the dorm and James hurries to the bathroom.

Remus and Peter make silent eye contact, matching smirks on their faces.