The Stag and The Harpy | James Potter

House

{{hey guys—I'm going to be super busy tomorrow and maybe this weekend so I'm not going to be updating as frequently. Instead I'm going to spend my free time writing so I can update frequently next week! Hopefully you don't hate me too much!!!}}

Phoebe glances down nervously where Molly holds a baby with red hair on her hip. Percy, Molly had told her. His name was Percy. The poor woman's belly looked like it was going to explode. She was exhausted, three boys already and what Lily privately told Phoebe was an assumed pair on the way. Twins.

Phoebe hoped that Lily had twins someday.

"I'll make some stew tonight if that's alright?" Molly volunteers happily. Certain members of the order would come back to a Grimmauld place tonight. Sirius requested that they have dinner, never having had a real family meal in the house. No one could tell him no, especially when James quickly agreed. The boys were sad, devastated. And they didn't want to be alone.

"That sounds perfect," Phoebe replies kindly, her eyes again flitting down to Percy. He was barely two, still far more awkward and chubby than Charlie or Bill. She could handle Charlie and Bill because they were like small adults. They could form coherent sentences. Percy was more like a gawking pile of spit and jumbled words. He reminded her a bit of a flobberworm, not that she would tell Molly that.

"Would you hold him for a moment? Kreacher scared him so he's afraid to touch the floor," Molly says apologetically, thrusting the tot into the veela's arms before she has a chance to say no.

Phoebe holds him under his arms, her own arms held stick straight out from her body. Percy just looks at her and she grows more uncomfortable, saying awkwardly,

"Uh, Molly?"

The orange haired witch looks up from the fridge, saying nonchalantly,

"Yes, Dear. That'll work, but he doesn't bite you know."

Phoebe flushes slightly and nods, reluctantly bringing the child closer to her body. She struggles for a moment, adjusting her arms and his legs until he sits on her own hip like he had been his mother's.

"Hello, Percy. My name is Phoebe," She says quietly.

"Bee-bee," The tot squeals making her flinch.

"You don't have to shout it," She grumbles, bouncing him slightly as she waits for Molly to hurry up and take back her bloody child. The sound of the door creaking has her eyes flying away from the small boy with red hair.

James stands in the doorway, slightly dumbfounded with his eyes latched onto the Veela and the child in her arms. His heart swells at the sight, thumping loudly in his chest. She looked so uncomfortable it made him want to laugh, but she was also gentle. Sweet even as she bounced the toddler to keep him happy.

Phoebe flushes under his gaze, growing more nervous at the look on his face. She didn't even know where they stood, and here he was looking at her so lovingly it made her want to cry.

"Molly," Phoebe pleads, glancing back at the witch whose head is in the ice box.

"I'm hurrying! Hold your horses."

When she turns back to James she's surprised to find him closer. He reaches out and gently ruffles Percy's hair. Phoebe can't take it, the look on his face, the baby babbling in her ear. She's suffocating.

"Here," She says desperately, thrusting poor Percy into James arms. "Don't put him down he's scared of Kreacher."

"Phoebe—"

"I've got to go to the house remember?" She interrupts James quickly, her heart beating wildly against her chest. There's mirth in his eyes, combined with deep understanding that eases her breathing. He smiles a little and murmurs,

"I've got him. Go ahead."

She wants to kiss him. It feels foolish. But she's compelled to do it for some reason. She shuffles closer and gently kisses James' cheek. She pats Percy on the head and says quietly,

"I'll be back."

James melts at the action, nearly dragging her back for a real kiss. He hadn't had one since the night before, and he craved it. Craved her affection, her healing touch.

He busies himself with Percy, fear pinching his gut when he hears the loud 'Pop' associated with apparating.

Phoebe lands rather sloppily, her knees hitting the ground as she hunches over and pukes. The apparition combined with the volume of emotions she was feeling since her last day at Hogwarts leave her sick, heaving until there's nothing left. She coughs quietly, reminded of the time she puked in the Potters yard around Christmas time. Phoebe finally climbs to her feet, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

She'd just been here. It seemed like minutes ago. She takes a deep breath and pushes through the front door, the wind behind her nearly smacking the door against the wall inside. She quickly reaches out and grabs it, scared to damage any part of the already changed home.

The door closes with a click behind her, leaving her to stare blankly at the entry way. She quickly shakes her head. She's here for James, for his things. She's not here to cry.

She bypasses the family room where they'd opened presents Christmas morning. Where she'd found Fleamont and Mia. She rushes up the stairs and flings James' door open, gulping in breaths to keep the tears threatening her eyes at bay.

Ghost of laughter haunt her and she wonders if life will ever feel right without Mia and Fleamont Potter.

She flings open drawers and closets, grabbing clothes and shoes and coats because the weather was due to change any day now and she didn't want James or Sirius to have to worry about coming back here. Not until they were ready.

She hesitates in the hallway, shutting the boy's door behind her. She takes another deep breath, steeling herself before she crosses the hall and opens the door.

It looks the same as it did the last time she stayed here. There's still the shells and trinkets that they placed for her, the same pale blue rug resting on the dark floors. Her throat grows tighter, her heart grows more painful.

She slams the door shut again, unwilling and unable to look any longer. She thunders back down the stairs, shouldering the bags she's stuffed to the brim.

She chews anxiously on the inside of her cheek, deciding to run a few more errands before she returns, still not prepared to see James looking at her with Percy in her arms. Because she could guess what he was thinking.

And despite how much it freaked her out, she was thinking the same.