The Stag and The Harpy | James Potter

Awake

James isn't surprised when he wakes up alone.

He stares blankly at the ceiling, his heart feeling heavy in his chest when he says quietly to the empty room,

"My parents are dead."

He practices saying it in his head. His parents are dead. A part of him feels grateful that they died before this war got worse, before someone could kill them or hurt them. He feels relieved that they weren't alone. That Phoebe could calm his fathers mind before he slipped away from earth.

Phoebe.

A small smile works it's way onto James' face before he can stop it. He quickly sits up and goes to pull on his dirty clothes from the night before, but there on the edge of the bed is a pile of fresh clothes. His heart does a cartwheel in his chest and he slowly reaches for the grey jumper. It's his chuddley cannons one. The one she'd worn so many times to sleep.

When he pulls it over his head his smile grows wider. It smells like lavender. He rushes to put on the rest of the clothes before he pads down the stairs, his heart seeking silver eyes and blonde hair.

He tiptoes down to the basement where the kitchen and dining room are situated. He pokes his head in the doorway and sees exactly who he's looking for.

Phoebe sits quietly at the long table, a teacup in one hand and the newspaper in the other. James nearly laughs at the sight of her and Kreacher sitting across from one another, sharing tea silently.

Kreacher notices him first, letting out an ugly hiss of disgust before he quickly disappears with a loud 'crack.'

Phoebe glances up from her reading, looking rather unphased by the house elves disappearance despite James' obvious surprise.

"He doesn't really care for Sirius, which means he doesn't really care for you," She explains quietly.

James smiles faintly and nods, slowly coming closer. He takes the seat where Kreacher was just sitting, growing slightly uncomfortable under the Veela's unwavering gaze. She sighs and folds up her newspaper, revealing something that makes James nearly cry.

She's wearing her hollyhead harpies sweatshirt, the one Sirius and James had gotten for her last Christmas. She doesn't notice his soft eyes, instead asking gently as she pours him a cup of tea,

"Are you okay?"

James doesn't answer her question. Instead he just appraises her silently. He starts at the top of her head, his eyes tracing the stray wisps of her knotted up hair plopped so effortlessly upon her head it should be illegal how good it looks. He soaks in the smooth skin of her forehead, the strength of her expressive brows. The gentle slope of her nose and her perfectly pink lips that he will remember the feeling of until the day he dies.

"Marry me."

Phoebe stares at him, shock freezing her blood in her veins. He looks resigned, sure of himself. His lips twitch slightly, hinting at a smile that begs to grace his face.

"Excuse me?" She breathes, slowly setting down her tea. She must have misheard. But then he's saying this funny little words again.

"Will you marry me?" He asks quietly, his hazel eyes crystal clear. Free of any other emotion besides certainty. He panics slightly when a sympathetic look graces the veela's face. He realizes quickly what is happening. She thinks he's asking because his parents are dead.

She opens her mouth to speak, but James interrupts, saying hurriedly, "Don't answer! Don't answer that one."

Phoebe gulps and nods, her heart doing weird flips in her chest when he runs his hand through his hair. He looks away from her briefly, gathering himself before he faces her again.