Catharsis | James Sirius Potter

[ 05; lucy ]

JAMES HAD EFFECTIVELY LISTED
all the positions in a Quidditch team in his piece of parchment, each label with two points after it. The first to be filled in was Keeper, he wrote his own name after that.

It didn't take long for the names to come to him, alas, it was an easy job... Dominique Weasley, Collete Blanc, Halle Grey (Albus would be pleased, and now he would not get out of attending Gryffindor matches), Hector Holland, Fred Weasley... and, saved for last, for him to do his fanciest handwriting, Lucy Stewart, right beside the Seeker title.

James's eyes lingered on the list for a moment longer, beholding it, better said, before he looked at the grass beside him, where the Marauder's Map laid, lit up by his own wand, the labels 'Thomas Stewart' and 'Lucy Stewart' still hanging about at the library, and oh, he should've been there, too, but between doing tangible homework, or watching Fred trace stars while he did anything else... it was a simple calculation.

"We're still good, right?" Fred asked, unexpectedly looking up from his sketch of the night sky, setting his brass telescope aside.

"What?"

"There's no one coming, right?" Once again, James had little to no clue of what to answer. "Just check in the bloody map, won't you?"

"Oh! Uh– where are we, where are–? Over here– yes. Yes, you're good, all clear." He confirmed, with a halfhearted thumbs up.

Fred merely rolled his eyes knowingly, "You can't pretend. Not even a bugging' little bit."

"Look who's speaking," James retorted, going back to the labelling in the map. Lucy Stewart. Lucy Theresa Stewart. What a pretty name. Suited the girl. But how could a name bring him such sincere happiness? Just seeing her name, in an old piece of paper. A name he'd known all his life. Well, perhaps it had always brought him certain joy, and all this was doing was bringing it to light.

He didn't mind that, one bit. Who didn't want another reason to feel happy?

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"Will you copy the homework over to my parchment?" Lucy asked Thomas hopefully, as the latter determinedly scribbled away on his parchment, eyes shifting between his work and the book in front of him.

"In your dreams, Blockhead."

"Price?"

"Fifteen galleons."

"Fifteen galleons? But you're barking bullshit!" Lucy laughed bitterly.

"Miss Stewart!" Madam Pince called from her desk, her tone was of borderline desbelief, a vulture in disapproval, if there was such a thing.

In contrast to his sister, who rolled her eyes once she knew she was in the clear, Thomas snickered in pleasant amusement. "If you'd quit your rubbish, you'd be more than halfway done."

"Got things on my mind."

"Like?"

"Quidditch."

"Godric's sake, Lucy." And for that, Thomas in fact, put his quill down, "James is leader, he's obviously gonna pick you."