The Stag and The Harpy | James Potter

Grey

{{surprise surprise. I didn't edit. Sigh.}}

Phoebe crinkles her nose, shaking her head for what feels like the hundredth time that day.

"No," She finally says, earning a loud and exasperated groan from James. He rakes his hands through his hair, begging dramatically, "Love, please! This shouldn't be so difficult."

Phoebe merely smiles and reaches up, patting him on the head. James glowers at the action but grabs her hand, intertwining their fingers so he can pull her wrist to his lips. Her eyes soften and she feels a twinge of pity. She'd been acting like Alice had when preparing for their wedding. A little bit crazy, and a large amount unpredictable.

The mood swings were in full force, as was her aversion to the summer air. James was a good sport though, and she'd taken to making it up to him by surprising him with rather aggressive snog sessions. That was another mood, hunger. Not for food but for him.

Phoebe hesitates before sighing and relenting, "Fine! We'll pick from these swatches."

James huffs and nods, letting go of her hand to bend over and snatch up the brand new stack of paint chips he'd grabbed for her. As frustrating as she could be, these moments made him love her even more. Because she was beginning to show glimmers of excitement, something he hadn't seen until now. She was excited. For the baby's nursery, for the house. For the baby. And it made James feel invincible.

Phoebe purses her lips and tilts her head to the side, studying pensively at the two he holds up for her. Her nose crinkles again at the navy blue and light pink, declaring decisively, "Nope."

James bites back a smile and tosses them over his shoulder, grabbing two more and holding them up for her to study. He nearly weeps in relief when she shakes her head at the putrid yellow and smiles at the light blue.

They continue on, tossing out one or the other, sometimes both, until she lands on a final three. James finally cracks a smile at the wrinkle between her furrowed brows, teasing, "It's like I'm at the Quidditch cup!"

Phoebe glances up from the swatches and rolls her eyes, playfully swatting at his chest. James gasps mockingly and tugs her hair, quick wrapping his arms around her from behind to trap her hands by her side. Phoebe wishes she could be as emotionless as she once was, but her easy smile is a consequence of her love for the man. Even when he still acted like a boy.

James rests his chin on her shoulder, his hair tickling her neck slightly as he wonders, "Alright, Mrs. Potter. Which will it be?"

Phoebe hums thoughtfully, her fingers hovering over the paint chips laid out on the antique changing table that Lily and Fabian had bought for them. Her lips twitch at the colors left. A deep maroon that reminded her of the canopy of James' bed at Hogwarts, how dark the dorm would get at night as they whispered and stared up at the fabric that turned to a comforting shade of ruby. It's beautiful. But it's not for a baby.

James grumbles to himself when she nudges it to the side, the two of them eying the colors left. A pretty shade of blue, the color of the sky on a windless summer day. James was rather partial to that one of the two, not super thrilled at the remaining option. Phoebe however feels a lurch in her heart when she lifts up the last paint chip. It was muted, as if the color of fresh cut pine had come to life. It was green, a color that should remind her of cowardly people that had brought her pain.

But not all in Slytherin had been cowards. Not all we're evil or envious or conniving. That kind of green was like poison, a toxic color that ate at people from the inside out. This one was a breath of fresh air, the hue of the clouds before a spring storm. This green was innocent. And the person that it made her think of was infinite in her mind.

Phoebe merely says with finality, "This one."

Something about her tone tells him not to ask, so despite his reluctance to have anything to do with green or the people that once wore it, he responds kindly, "I like it."

Phoebe turns her head, her eyes soft with emotions that he can't put his finger on. Her grin is full of mirth when she retorts, "No you don't. But I love you for pretending."

James chuckles and nods, leaning in to catch her lips in a chaste kiss. He smirks when she turns in his arms, her bump pressing into his stomach. As much as he loved this kid and as much as she adored seeing her like this, he was looking forward to being able to press her completely against him.

Phoebe pulls back as if she knows what he's thinking, offering a mischievous smile. Yep, she knew. Though the evidence could be his growing erection. She laughs and steps away from him, offering a sympathetic smile before saying, "You get to pick a color for something very important."

James looks at her curiously, reaching out to playfully flick her nose when she scrunches it up. She rolls her eyes, before telling him warmly, "Our bedroom."

James' grin is brilliant, full of boyish excitement as he whirls around and sprints down the hall to their room. Phoebe follows him at a much slower pace, her smile permanent. Their room is barren for the time being, the two of them yet to purchase any furniture.

He's standing right in the center, hands on his hips as he surveys the white walls. Phoebe walks up next to him, asking cheekily, "If you haven't any ideas, I'd be happy—"

"Shut it, Bee! No take backs!!" He scoffs, surprising her by reaching into his pocket and pulling out a few paint chips of his own. She refrains from poking fun at him the way he'd made fun of her, instead waiting patiently.

He mumbles quietly to himself, hiding the colors from her sight with his body. When she tried to stand on her toes to get a look, he turns away, muttering something about how nosy she is. She hears a quiet noise of triumph and the he abruptly turns around, nearly knocking her over.

James quickly steadies her with a free hand before saying firmly, "Look at me."

Phoebe does as she's told, though she's looking at him as if he's grown another head. He lifts up the paint chips, resisting it gently against her temple. A satisfied look takes over his face, his hazel eyes glancing back and forth between her confused gaze and the color in his hand.

"This one," He states playfully, mocking her earlier statement. She rolls her eyes before reaching up and snatching the color swatch out of his hand, wondering, "What ghastly—"

Her words fall short when she sees the color between her fingers. She wonders when they got so sappy, when she'd become so weak to the little things he managed to do. Perhaps she always had been.

Her throat feels tight at the shade, knowing in an instant that he'd picked it for reasons not far from the reason she'd picked the color green.

James smiles faintly at the glimpse of raw emotion on her face, the love in her beautiful eyes. Eyes that he would stare into for the rest of his life. Chuckling, he bends slightly to press a lingering kiss to her cheek.

"I'll go start dinner," He murmurs, playfully pinching her side as he slips past her.

He'd always liked grey.

{{James. You're killing me, buddy. Hopefully you guys liked this one! If you're getting too tired of the sappy chapters—let me know! Honestly!}}