The Stag and The Harpy | James Potter

Griffin

{{happy Friday! One update for James and Phoebe, and one update for Sirius and Gwen. I couldn't resist!}}

Phoebe bursts into the kitchen, causing Molly to yelp and toss her tea cup into the air in surprise. The pair of women both wince when it hits the ground and shatters.

"Sorry," Phoebe says sheepishly, blushing under the eyes of the older girl. She quickly sets down the bags of stuff she's carrying on the table. Molly just smiles and waves it off,

"S'alright, dear! What can I do for you?"

Phoebe grins at her words, certain that Molly Weasley tops the list of nicest people in the world which was not an easy feat with Remus usually in the lead. She looks around and says,

"Well I was looking for Sirius. He stole my cigarettes and I've been itching for one all bloody morning!"

Molly sends her an unimpressed look as she cleans up her tea cup, her wand waving in the air as the pieces meld back together.

"Don't look at me like that, Molly. I'm well aware of your views on smoking."

The ginger tuts and sets the previously broken cup on the table, "It's terrible for you."

Phoebe rolls her eyes, waving off her motherly behavior. It was still something she was getting used to, being around someone that very much represented what a mother should be. It made Phoebe remember things about her own mother that made her weep with guilt.

"Yes, well...have you seen him?"

Molly tilts her head and says confusedly, "Well I haven't since he and James and the rest of them left. We've rescheduled dinner for tomorrow, dear."

Phoebe freezes, her heart following her lead and stilling its beating in her chest. They weren't supposed to leave yet. Not until after Phoebe got to tell them to be safe and to come home.

"James and Sirius left?" She wonders quietly. Molly notes her wide eyes and worried smile, saying soothingly,

"Madeye and Dumbledore asked them to go today. Said that it couldn't wait."

"I-I don't...I can't—" Phoebe clamps her mouth shut, her heart going from zero to one hundred in a blink of an eye. She didn't get to say goodbye. She didn't get to tell James to be safe. They'd only just had the meeting. How could they already be gone?

"Phoebe, breathe," Molly says firmly, quickly pulling out a chair for the Veela. Phoebe takes the seat, clenching and unclenching her fists as she tried not to cry. They would be okay. James would be fine.

Molly hesitates, the state of the girl making her nervous. But she told James she would do as he asked. She reaches into the pocket of her apron and hands Phoebe a folded up note. Answering the confused look on the veela's face, she says softly,

"James asked me to give this to you. Actually, he insisted I give it to you."

Phoebe takes the note in her shaky hands and unfolds it, tears already falling when she reads the first few words.

Griffin,

It feels right addressing you the way I did when we first met. Griffin. It took me a week to remember what your first name was when I was a kid. I was so stunned, so enraptured by your aura. I suppose it was too overwhelming for 11 year old me to deal with remembering your name and trying not to make a fool of myself.

You were—scratch that—you ARE a mystery to me. You have been since the day I met you. I think that's why I liked pushing you, messing with you. You were a puzzle I couldn't solve. And it frustrated the hell out of me so much that I wasted nearly 6 years pining over the wrong girl because I couldn't figure you out. You were right in front of me the whole time.

I told you before, but everyone knew that I fancied you. Apparently it was obvious to everyone but us. Sirius knew it the night he came back to the dorm after smoking with you in the astronomy tower. I hated it when he started to bring you around more. Hated that you got along so well, that he understood you in ways that I had been trying to since first year. And I think I resented how easily you got him to open up to you. I think he would still be trapped with his parents if he hadn't met you.

And then...I saw you. I don't know what did it exactly, maybe it was when you came to my house for Christmas for the first time. Or maybe it was when we first kissed. Merlin, kissing you...kissing you feels like coming up for fresh air. I was holding my breath for 6 years, and then I was suddenly breathing. Breathing your air. And fuck it felt good and I couldn't get enough. Couldn't get enough of breathing and existing with you in a way I'd never dreamed possible.

I'm sorry that I lied. You were right, I said that I would never break up with you. And I regret that decision every day. Because I want to fight with you, laugh with you, cry with you. I want to make love with you and have a family with you and marry you. I want all the things that this tiny blip of a life has to offer. I was just so scared, so mad. I want you to want to live. I want you to value your life as much as I do.

You told me once that I made you strong. You are so wrong it makes me want to laugh and cry all at the same time. You are strong, without help. You are so strong that it makes the world look weak, too weak to hold you in its grasp. You are the smartest, most kind, and most loyal person I know. Calling you selfish was the biggest lie I ever told, and I want to take it back every day. You gave Regulus more time. You gave him a friend, a confidant. A hug. If that doesn't make you selfless I don't know what does.

As for why I'm writing this sappy letter—

I feel like I am going to die today. And I can't die knowing that I didn't tell you all of the things that I wanted to.

I love you, P. I loved you the moment I saw you. The moment you punched me for burning off some of your hair in potions 1st year. I loved you when you met my parents for the first time, and when I smelled your cigarettes and shampoo in that bloody love potion. I loved you when you kissed me in the hallways at Hogwarts just because you could. Even when I didn't know it, I loved you. I still love you, Phoebe Griffin. And I'm going to love you for the rest of my life.

I'm sorry it took me so long to catch up.

I blame sniffing all of that broom polish.

Yours always,

Potter