Chapter Text
If someone asked James, he’d assure them that he was not nervous. James Potter doesn’t get nervous, thank you very much. Remus would then claim that he was also a big liar who lies, but he wasn’t, was he?
He searched for Snape for what it felt like the hundredth time and tried to quelch the sudden urge he felt to just stand up and search for the Slytherin. Patience has never been one of his strongest suits, Lily could attest to that.
After the events of the last term, he’d grown increasingly wary of the other boy’s behavior. Snape would go down the halls like a convict waiting for sentence, never looking up from his dirty old shoes. He barely eats anything - not that James was paying attention - and making fun of him was not as entertaining as it used to be, given that the Slytherin never took the bait. To say that it frustrated him would be an understatement.
Peter was staring at him over his plate of food, clearly trying not to look concerned and failing miserably. James forced a smile and stared at his untouched food as if it was the most interesting sight. Sirius, however, wasn’t known for his filter.
“Mate, what’s wrong with you?” He asked over a mouthful of fried chicken. James could’ve sworn that he heard Wormtail facepalming, but he wasn’t so sure.
“I’m feeling a bit under the weather,” he lied. He couldn’t just say that he was waiting for Snivellus to show up, could he? Peter and Remus would understand - far better than he could, probably - but Padfoot was a completely different story. “I’ve got to go,” he scrambled on his feet, feeling less like himself as every minute would pass.
“Okay, Remus promised me that he’d help us with Transfiguration but we’ll go back as soon as we can,” in moments like this his best friend would sound gentler than he’s ever looked, and James couldn’t help but smile.
Without saying anything, he took off, deciding to use the map to find out if the Slytherin was even at Hogwarts. He’d never say out loud, but as every moment passed, he’d grow more worried that Snape wouldn’t come back. Lily was at the other side of the table, glancing towards the door every few minutes, and he knew that she was also concerned, but was trying not to show it.
When he saw the other boy’s name on the Hospital Wing he felt something squeeze around his heart, a hollow ache that spread like a wildfire under his ribcage. Blinking a few times to disperse the aching feeling, James took the invisibility cloak and made a move towards the infirmary.
The Gryffindor made sure not to knock anything once he got there, and the aching dull pain he felt flared angrily against him once he took in the sight before his eyes. Snape was lying on a bed, red and purple marks were surrounding his entire torso, bruises that were days old by the looks of it.
James stood against the stone walls, trying to control his ragged heartbeat. His vision was blurry despite his glasses, and the teenager felt like throwing up. Madam Pomfrey showed up, being followed by Dumbledore, whose eyes were not twinkling like they used to.
“The child was beaten by an inch of his life, Headmaster,” the woman sounded as angry as he felt. “He has belt marks all over his back, bruises that seem to be weeks old all of which were caused by his father” the woman nearly spat as she said it, and the boy closed his hands in fists. “The fact that he managed to get on the train without collapsing entirely is astonishing.”
“I’m aware, Madam Pomfrey,” he sighed, sounding utterly tired. “Is he going to be okay?”
“Physically he should be fine…Mentally? I wouldn’t be so sure” she said, eyes kinder as she looked at the unmoving boy: “He’s been through so much already, Albus. No child should endure what he did on the hands of that…man” she spat, and James didn’t need to see closely to know that her eyes were marred with the same ire he felt cursing through his veins.
He couldn’t stand there anymore; he needed to think; he needed to talk to someone. James left silently, but he could’ve sworn he felt Dumbledore’s eyes on the back of his head.
Once he got into the Gryffindor common room, he smiled at the sight before him. Sirius’ head was on Remus’ lap, and the other boy’s hand was carding through Sirius’ hair softly as he slept. They were the only two soulmates James had ever met, and it was easy to see why the Universe thought they belonged together.
James knew how hard it was to find one’s soulmate. There were too many variables to account for. According to his parents, one can know their soulmate their entire lives without having a bond being formed. They used to tell him that it takes a special kind of connection and awareness for the bond to form - the acknowledgment of love on it’s truest presentation. His aunt also told him that soulmates wouldn’t discriminate, that they could be a muggle or a wizard, and they could live in Australia for all he knew. Most people spent their entire lives without ever finding theirs, and James was pretty sure that Remus and Sirius just got lucky.
Not every story of soulmates had a happy ending, however. Some people were unfortunate enough to have the bond rejected before it could form, and just thinking about it made tremble with fear. According to the books, if someone has their bond rejected before it can form on both ends, the person has one year to live before their magic dies out and their bodies follow. The only way to prevent that from happening is for the rejection to be taken back completely.
Some say that He-who-must-not-be-named was one of those unlucky people with a rejected soulbond. They said that his soulmate was a muggle who rejected him, and James would be inclined to believe that if it wasn’t for the fact that those stories were circling for ages, and the man was still alive and killing. Unless he found a way to cheat death, the stories were not true.
Dumbledore always spoke about the power soulmates hold in the world, and how truly uplifting it was to find them. Whenever he did it, James couldn’t help but wonder if the Headmaster had found his own, somehow.
The biggest thing, however, was that there were no coordinates, no signs that helped someone know that they found The One. His family used to say that in one moment, you’d just know, in one way or the other.
Remus looked at him and raised an eyebrow. It only took James a second to make up his mind, he needed someone to talk to, needed some solid advice. Moony has always been the more sensible one of the four, and he didn’t want to be left alone with his thoughts right now.
“Can we talk?” he whispered, casting a glance towards Sirius that mumbled something lowly and shifted slightly. He watched as his friend disentangled himself from his boyfriend and got up, making a move with his head for James to follow him.
“What’s wrong?” Moony asked, closing the door behind him. He tumbled on the bed, trying to wrap his head around the events of today. He told his friend what happened in great detail, watching him closely as he did so. Firstly, Remus seemed confused, but then something sharper took over his always soft eyes, a fierceness that he wasn’t used to seeing on the other boy.
“You should’ve seen him, Moony,” he mumbled, playing with his wand and avoiding looking at Remus. “He was covered in bruises, Madam Pomfrey said he was lucky to be alive.”
James felt horrible once he realized that a few months ago he couldn’t care less about Snape, that he’d probably rejoice over the fact that he was this broken, and the mere thought made something boil inside of his stomach, hot and heavy.
“Merlin, this is terrible,” Lupin said, sighing and massaging his forehead: “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he lied, forgetting that unlike Sirius and Peter, Remus wasn’t the one that would expect an easy answer. By the look on his friend’s face, it was clear he wasn’t successful at lying to him. “I just don’t know why I care,” he mumbled, plopping himself down on the couch with a loud thud.
“Maybe you should figure that one out by yourself, Prongs,” He said, carefully, and, for some unfathomable reason, he was pretty sure Remus knew the answer already. James considered trying to annoy him into talking, but his friend had everlasting patience, and not even his harassment would get him to talk. “I can’t help you figure it out, but perhaps you should talk to Snape, get to know him”. He had to wonder what Remus could possibly know that he didn’t, for him to make that kind of suggestion.
“I’ll think about it,” he mumbled, feeling incredibly tired all of the sudden. “I really could use a drink right now,” Moony laughed at that and murmured something under his breath that he couldn’t quite hear.
“Do you want me to get Sirius off your back for a while?” He asked, and he could’ve kissed him weren’t for the fact that Remus was not completely in love with his best friend. He needed to think - something he wasn’t quite used to - and it would be impossible with Padfoot on his back every five seconds.
“Please, do,” he asked, casting the sleeping teenager a glance. “You’re a great friend,” he reminded him, just because he felt it should be said. “Goodnight, Moony.”
“Goodnight, Prongs,” James climbed the stairs two at a time and walked into the bedroom, getting rid of his clothes and jumping into the shower. For some reason, he felt dirty and had to scrub his skin red to get rid of the uncomfortable feeling.
James allowed the water to fall down his body, pondering over his conflicting emotions. Part of him wanted to just forget about what he saw because he knew that Snivellus was rotten to the core, but the other part couldn’t help but ask the damn hard questions. What if things weren’t this black and white? What if he’s assumptions were wrong? It was hard for him to even consider the possibility of being wrong because doing so would shift his perception of things he didn’t want to think about.
After taking a long shower, he climbed into his bed and put his glasses on the counter. Despitegoods how tired he truly was, James fell in a restless sleep a couple of hours later. That night, he dreamt with Snape beat and bruised, his lifeless eyes staring into nothing as he bled on the floor. He woke up with a startled cry, his throat closing with sudden dryness.
James stayed in bed for the rest of the night with the uncomfortable realization that he would not be able to let this go. He would take Remus’ advice and get close to Snape, maybe that would help him figure out exactly what he should do.
Once he finally decided to get up, it was with the determination of approaching the Slytherin. The fact that he was stuck on the hospital wing would definitely work on his advantage, given the fact that he really didn’t want people to see him talking to the other. He had a reputation to maintain, after all.
After a day of classes, he decided to wait until after the curfew to head to the hospital wing. He knew there was a chance that the Slytherin would be asleep, but that was a risk he was willing to take. James tried to be quiet as he snuck out of the Gryffindor tower, thanking Merlin for his Invisibility Cloak. The castle was quiet in the dead of the night, and it would be a lot creepier if he didn’t know every inch of that place thanks to the map.
Once he got to the Hospital Wing, he found Snape tucked into his bed surrounded by a warm blanket; it reminded him of one of those muggle foods he ate on a trip a couple of months ago. What were they called? Marritos? Tabitos? He was pretty sure it was tabitos. It was honestly kind of adorable.
James had to think before dumping the Cloak. If he did that Severus might actually hex him, either by accident or intentionally, he wasn’t too sure, and he was not in the mood for that right now. He could try and move something, and sure, one would think that mumbling to the boy would be a stupid idea, but he couldn’t think of anything else.
“Hey, Snape.” He called, with a low whistle. He saw how Snape’s eyes turned big black pools, as he jumped from the bad. James quickly got rid of the cloak, poking his head out and waiting for the other boy to use some kind of spell. When it didn’t happen, he sighed in relief.
“Potter, what the hell are you doing here?” Snape’s voice was barely a whisper, but it still sounded oddly low. He never noticed how deep and soothing his voice was before. James wasn’t sure how exactly he was supposed to answer that, and he saw the moment the Slytherin rolled his eyes and said, “I suspect you heard of this thing called the mouth, could you mayhaps be so inclined to use it?”
James left out a bark of laughter at the unmistakable acerbic comment. He never fully appreciated it, before, and he was too stunned by the fact that the other wasn’t still hexing him like he was so prone to do.
“Why haven’t you hexed me yet?” Great, James! Go giving him ideas, why don’t you?
“If I had my wand, you’d be on the floor by now, I can assure you of that,” the other said through gritted teeth. “Now, I seem to recall asking a question… What are you doing here?”
“You didn’t show up at the feast, and I may or may not have found you in here.” The look Snape gave made him shift yet again, and he hated feeling this uncertain of the things around him, it wasn’t how he was used to feeling.
“Am I supposed to believe you suddenly care about my wellbeing?” He sneered, and something ugly roared inside of James’ chest at that. He tried at best to ignore the uneasy feeling, to no avail. “Lily hates me, James. You have no reason to be here, so why don’t you spare me of your presence and go?”
He felt intense pain squeeze his heart in a vice-like grip and had to clench his hands. He should’ve known better, should’ve realized that Snape was bound to lash out with the sight of him. But he wasn’t one to give up so easily, and he wasn’t going to start now.
“I’m not leaving,” he said, plopping on the floor and trying not to wince as he felt the pain on his arse. Snape kept staring at him like he was some kind of animal at the zoo, and just rolled his eyes as if he was resigning himself to the situation.
“How do your friends put up with you?” He was relieved to know that Snape was willing to give him an opening for a real conversation, it made him feel weirdly warm inside.
“I’ll have you know that they love my company!” He frowned, trying to convey how much the Slytherin’s assumptions hurt. “Soon enough you’ll be loving it too!” He didn’t mean it to sound it like that, but now that he said it, James could make it into his new challenge, just because. It’d be lovely, to make Snape actually grow fond of him, to make him realize that James was actually all the things people thought he was. Game on! He thought, happy with himself.
“Yeah, dream on,” the other scoffed, sounded truly offended with the possibility. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, Potter… But once they give me back my wand, I’ll hex you into oblivion!” The Gryffindor knew he meant it, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
James looked around, shuffling through a bunch of papers near Madam Pomfrey’s table, only hoping she wouldn’t see him meddling through her stuff. He found a paper with a few questions ‘to get to know each other better’, and shrugged, thinking ‘why the hell not?’
“So tell me, Severus Snape…If you could have anyone as a dinner guest, who would it be?”
He had no idea why he was following through with this, but it didn’t matter, because Remus did suggest that he should get to know him, and he did want to win his prize after all. Snape raised an eyebrow and made a zipping move over his mouth.
“I won’t stop pestering until you answer,” he shrugged, and then just to prove his point, said: “Severus, Severus, Severus, Severus,” he was willing to continue until Madam Pomfrey showed up (in about one hour), but the other boy just threw his pillow at him, making James laugh.
“Fine, if I answer will you shut the hell up?”
“Yep”.
“I’d have my mom,” he said, shrugging. For some reason, he remembered meeting the small boy on the train to Hogwarts and hearing him talk about how he wanted to be a Slytherin because it was his mother’s house. Something uncomfortable lodged at his throat and he did his best to ignore it.
“Don’t you see her enough as it is?” The moment the words came out of his mouth, he knew he made a mistake. Snape closed off immediately, jaw set tight and clenched fists.
“She’s dead,” he answered simply, and the Gryffindor had to control himself not to bang his head on the floor. Of fucking course she was.
“I’m sorry, I…” James had never lost anyone before - thank Merlin - and he couldn’t imagine what it’d be like to live without his parents. He wondered if she’d died before Hogwarts, if that was the reason why he was hellbent on being sorted into Slytherin. “I didn’t know,” he mumbled, feeling entirely pathetic.
“She died when I was ten, just before I got to Hogwarts,” he said, after a few moments of silence. “If I could, I’d give anything to have one more dinner with her.” This was far more than he bargained, and James wasn’t sure what to do with the boy that was telling him this. He wasn’t so sure he wasn’t dreaming in the first place.
“I’d have Ian Fleming over,” he said abruptly, flushing when he received a scathing look from Snape.
“Of course you’d want to have the man that wrote about James Bond over. Why am I even surprised?” The touch of sarcasm in the other boy’s voice made him grin wide. He wasn’t entirely sure why he never appreciated his dry humor before, but now he couldn’t get enough of it.
“I’m not that self-absorbed,” he said, rolling his eyes.
“Could’ve fooled me,” the other boy mumbled, and James noticed the moment when he scratched his eyes and yawned tiredly. He averted his eyes from the image and got up, saying.
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Snape just shrugged, apparently accepting his own demise, and he smiled at the sight. Again. “Goodnight, Snape”.
The Slytherin didn’t answer, and James didn’t mind one bit.
That night, he fell into a deep slumber.
----------
“Would you like to be famous?” He asked, the next night. Severus was begrudgingly accepting his shiny presence on the Hospital Wing, but James was sure that he would win him over eventually, it’d just take him a little while. But it was fine if that was one thing that chasing after Lily proved, was that he wasn’t a quitter
“How do they come up with these questions?” Snape asked, raising one deep dark eyebrow. The Gryffindor shrugged, playing with the bracelet his mother gave him when he was a child.
“If I answer first would you please do it too?” He wasn’t sure why that was so important, but he really wanted to win the bet he’d made with himself. It felt like killing two birds with one stone: he got to know Snape - as Moony suggested it - and got to make Snape admit to caring about him in the end.
“I know that you like being famous, Potter,” his voice was full of some kind of animosity, and he wondered if Snape resented him for it. “You love having people at your feet, and you’re probably here for your own personal gain.”
He sounded so damn accusatory, and he had to try hard not to scoff. Snape didn’t know him that well, how could he condemn him like that? He tried to ignore that silent whisper in his head and turned to him, saying,
“Okay, if you think you have me all figured out, what about you?”
“No. I’d like to have power, but most people don’t realize that one doesn’t correlate to the other,” he sounded years older than he actually was when he spoke as if he thought about it time and again.
“There are things that are more important than power,” he found himself saying. To James, love, friendship, and family would certainly fit the bill.
“What, like love?” he mocked, rolling his eyes as if James was crazy for even thinking about it. “You can’t possibly believe that,” he said, once he realized that the other was being serious.
“I do,” he said, unapologetic, “Power corrupts people, it makes them crazy, it drives them over the edge.” Snape was staring at him as if he’d grown another head, and James stared right back at him. “Power always vanishes with time, you know? You strive to achieve but once you get it stops being enough, and then you pursue the next big thing…until one day nothing you’ll ever do will be enough,” thinking about it, that was what was happening to You Know Who.
“Okay, aren’t you going to ask something else?” The Gryffindor shouldn’t be surprised that Snape chose to change the subject, but it still bothered him somehow. After thinking about his options, he realized that maybe he shouldn’t push his look just now.
“Do you think about what you’re going to say before making a call?” he asked, reading the question from the paper he’d found the night before. He tried to avoid seeing through all of them, James loved the thrill he got from not knowing what would be asked next.
“I don’t have anyone to talk to,” he mumbled. Until then, he was avoiding bringing up the reason as to why the boy was still in the Hospital Wing, he didn’t want to upset him with a subject that was still too fresh. But now, the reality of that statement made him stop on his track.
He had to physically stop himself from asking about Lily because he somehow knew it’d mean taking two steps back. Instead, he answered:
“I don’t… Remus says that I should because I have the impulse control of an eight-year-old on a sugar rush,” he told the other. James had to blink a few times when he saw the small smile playing on the other’s lips, and his stomach did something funny at the sight.
Shaking himself off that weird stupor, he jumped straight to the next question.
“What would constitute a perfect day for you?” The question was straight forward, and he knew the answer to that already: “I’d be a picnic with my family and friends, there would those little blanket things the elves don’t seem to get the hang off, and there would be laughter and the sky would be blue above us,” he smiled dreamily, conjuring it the image he thought about thousand times over.
“Little blanket things?” Severus asked, seeming legitimately confused. “You mean croissants?” his voice was painted in disbelief, and he left out this tiny, adorable sound that made James’ insides squirm.
“Yeah, exactly!” he said, turning to face the Slytherin. He wondered when Madam Pomfrey was going to release him from the Wing, and could only hope it’d be only after Severus and him made more progress. “What about you?”
“I think it’d be a day that I could spend reading with a cup of tea in front of a fireplace,” he said, with a soft voice, and James found himself picturing it quite clearly. It was such an inane wish, at its core, and he found himself wishing that Severus never had to go back to his asshole of a father again. “Potter, what is your game? I was willing to play along but this is getting ridiculous if you ask me”
James knew that he’d been forcing his presence there, but he couldn’t outright explain his reasons, because he couldn’t comprehend them quite yet. He didn’t know why he cared, didn’t know why the idea of Snape’s father being an asshole set him on the edge, but now that he stared this he couldn’t bring himself to stop.
“I just want to get to know you,” it wasn’t the whole truth, but it didn’t matter. Snape should be thankful, really, that he was willing to look past his Slytheriness and grace him with his friendship.
Snape rolled his eyes and mumbled something under his breath and rolled on the bed, hiding under the blankets. His hair was oddly tangled and frizzy, without the greasy aspect he’d grown used to, and James had to wonder if the aspect was caused by the potions he’d brew.
“When did you last sing to yourself? Or to someone else?”
Snape didn’t answer, but he didn’t expect him to. James was self-aware enough - in spite of Remus’ claims - to know that maybe he should leave those questions behind, for now.
“I’m scared of scorpions,” he told the Slytherin, fully aware that he could use that information against him later but willing to risk it. If he wanted to establish some trust, he needed Snape to think that he was putting himself out there too.
Severus raised an eyebrow as to see if he was being serious and James tried to copy him, without success. He hated that he couldn’t do that.
“What will happen next? Are we going to tell each other our darkest secrets, braid each other’s hairs and gush about girls?” His voice was laced with displeasure and James found that he didn’t like his sarcasm when it reminded him that Snape hated him with all he had.
“No” he elongated the word, trying not to think about what it’d be like to touch his hair, to feel it against his fingertips. “Why are you making this so difficult?” Snape glared at him and sighed.
“I’m afraid of the dark,” James wondered if his father used to punish him with it, but knew better than to ask. “And I ‘m afraid you’re not going to leave me alone”.
“Not going to happen,” it really wasn’t, now that he knew how not-completely-infuriating Severus was, he couldn’t bring himself to think about not having him around.
Snape was quiet for a while, as if he was thinking about something, and then he turned to him and said:
“I used to sing for my mom, she liked the sound of my voice,” the Gryffindor could picture quite clearly, now that he knew the other boy better. He shivered once he remembered that he didn’t get to sing for his mother anymore.
“I'm a terrible singer, or so Sirius says” he shrugged. “But I do sing for myself in the shower”.
“Now, one thing I and Black can agree on, who knew?” His voice was laced with sarcasm, and James couldn’t help but smile at it, yet again. Severus looked tired, so he got up and turned to him, saying:
“Do you know when you’re getting out of here?” He hasn’t considered what would happen once he did leave, too caught up in the game he was playing to think about that. He had to think about a way of being in contact with the Slytherin while making sure his image didn’t take the blow.
“Madam Pomfrey says I need to be here for at least two more days,” he mumbled, and for a few seconds, James’ chest ached with the sight of the frail and tiny boy tucked in that hospital bed. For a few moments, he wanted to hunt down Severus’ father and make him pay for every bruise he put on that body.
“Goodnight, Potter”
“Goodnight, Severus.” He barely noticed the boy’s given name slipping out of his mouth, but he couldn’t bring himself to take it back.
James’ grin was so wide that his face was hurting, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop thinking about the other boy and how well the whole situation was turning out to be.
Once he got to the dormitory, he found Sirius lying on his bed with a mouthful of chocolate he probably stole from Remus.
“Prongs, did Lily finally say yes to your date?”
The Gryffindor stopped dead on his tracks with the question, his heart racing fast against his ribcage.
“What?” He did not squeak, Potters do no such thing.
“Mate, you look like you have hearts in your eyes,” Padfoot informed, grinning. You see, the thing is, Sirius Orion Black was a dumbass regarding other people’s feelings - or his own - for that matter, so for him to think that James had hearts on his eyes was bad, really bad.
“No, but she did say she was considering it.” He lied as fast as he could, trying to sound nonchalant. Sirius raised his hand, so that James could high five him, and he did, without much heat behind it.
James was not going to have an existential crisis about this. Sirius was wrong, all he was doing was being friendly - just so he could Snape’s affections - this was all. He absolutely did not look any particular way. Period.
The next day, the Gryffindor all but forgot about Sirius’ assumptions from the day before. That day, classes were a complete drag. McGonagall insisted on having the students turn a bird into a goblet, and while James had always excelled at her classes, he couldn’t focus on the task at hand. Then, he may or may not have blown up a caldron in the Potions class - for the first time in years, mind you - because he couldn’t stop worrying over Severus. Once he was finally released from the dreadful Herbology class, he ran to the Great Hall, so he could eat.
He stole a few blueberry muffins from the Great Hall just so he could give them to Severus. All the years he spent stalki- observing Snape taught him that these ones were his favorites.
After curfew, he took his cloak and walked through the empty corridors with an open ear for Filch. He really didn’t want one of his dreadful detentions. Once he got to the Hospital Wing, Severus was seated on the bed, biting his lower lip. James ached to smooth the place with his finger.
“Hi,” he whispered, “did you miss me?” Severus’ glare had barely any heat behind it, and he found himself smiling because of it.
“In your dreams, Potter,” He said, rolling his eyes.
“Well, then I won’t give you the muffins that I took from the great hall,” he said grinning like a maniac and the other boy huffed, annoyed.
“Aren’t you supposed to be a Gryffindor?”
“For you, I’ll be anything,” and holy shit, what the hell was that? However, when he saw the pretty shade of pink on Severus’ cheeks, James couldn’t bring himself to stop staring. He never noticed how freaking adorable the other boy was. His heart did that weird thing again, making him avert his eyes.
“Give me my damn muffin, Potter,” he said, crossing his arms. “Madam Pomfrey just keeps force-feeding me soup, I’m starving.” He complained, and James couldn’t bring himself to deny him.
“Here,” he said, holding the muffins to the Slytherin that took them and bit off a small piece. It was quite fascinating watching him eat, to see his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed the food. James had to tear his eyes away from the sight. “I want to see what the next question is going to be, shall I?” He asked, and Severus just shrugged.
“If you were able to live to the age of 90 and retain either the mind or body of a 30-year-old for the last 60 years of your life, which would you want?”
“I’d want the mind, what use is the body for?” There was a note of something in the other boy’s voice, almost self-deprecating, and James had to bite his tongue so that he wouldn’t say something dumb.
“The mind as well,” he told him, and Severus’ eyes widened in surprise. “My grandmother had Alzheimer’s, and not even wizarding treatment can fix that, so --”
“I’m sorry about your grandmother,” he whispered, looking away from the other. “Is there anything important happening in Potions? I don’t have anyone to bring me the notes.”
“Slughorn is teaching us how to brew Amortentia,” James answered promptly. “I have the notes if you want I can bring them here tomorrow.” Severus was clearly surprised by his offer, and James knew he’d have to bribe Remus into giving him his notes. He didn’t mind giving him explanations, not when it meant doing something nice for the other.
“Could you?” And he sounded so damn hopeful that it made James’ heart clench painfully. He wondered if Lily never offered, or if she even came to see him.
“Of course,” the Gryffindor was surprised to notice how soft his voice had sounded, but just smiled gently and said. “You really like Potions, don’t you?”
“Yeah, it’s easy to figure it out,” Severus said, tucking himself more in the blankets. “I really like DADA as well, it’s fascinating”.
“I’m sure you’re going to figure Amortentia out in no time,” he said, honestly. “We’re going to brew it soon and hopefully you’ll be out of here until then”
Severus raised an eyebrow at the comment but said nothing to it. “ I’m tired,” he said, squinting in this really cute way that made James’ heart leap on his chest.
“I’ll be back tomorrow, goodnight”.
“Goodnight, James,” the other boy mumbled, and James felt his heart race wildly against his ribcage.
Oh no.
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James was having an existential crisis. If Peter was there, he’d claim that he had one of those every time Evans said “no” to him, but this felt different, bigger. He couldn’t bring himself to think about it too much, because if he did he’d surely go insane.
Now that he knew Severus a little more, he knew that he needed to make sure he never went back to his father’s house. In a moment of true cunningness, he decided to write to his father to explain to him what was happening and to get him to talk to the Board of Governors of the School. He’d fight with Dumbledore himself if he had to.
He did his best to avoid thinking about Sev during classes, trying to focus on taking notes for him in classes and keeping mostly to himself throughout the day. Next to him, Peter kept throwing furtive glances his way, as if debating something.
“James, I know that you’re sneaking out every night,” the boy mumbled and he tried hard not to flinch. He didn’t sound accusatory, just worried. “I don’t know what you’re doing, but you better figure out before Sirius finds out.”
“I know,” he left out a heavy sigh. Sirius hated Sev with a fiery passion and James knew he wouldn’t be able to understand his motives, especially when they were becoming so blurry for the boy himself. “I’ll tell him when I’m ready,” he promised, and Peter acquiesced with a frown. It was better that he didn’t know why he was sneaking out, but Wormtail was always smarter than people realized, and James knew he had a point, Sirius would figure it out soon enough.
That night, when James got to the Hospital Wing he found Sev having a nightmare. His body was moving fast under the heavy blankets and his hair was sticking to his forehead. He kept begging someone to stop, and James moved before he could think about it. His father always told him to be gentle with people that were having nightmares, so he approached the boy carefully and put a hand on his shoulder.
“Sev, you’re safe, it is okay,” he said gently, and then Severus woke up with a dull scream, eyes frightened. That heavy feeling assaulted him with no mercy, and James found himself seated on the bed and holding Sev close to his chest, finding comfort in the fact that the Slytherin didn’t struggle against him. “You’re safe,” he mumbled against the boy’s hair, finding that he smelled of hibiscus and something citrusy, like lemons. His hair was incredibly soft and didn’t have any oil in it. Apparently his theory about the potions was right.
The thing that made his heart pound crazily on his ribcage; however, was how perfectly he fit against James’ body, as if he belonged there. It was quite addicting.
“James, you’re choking me,” he complained, and the Gryffindor released even though he really didn’t want to.
“Are you okay?” He asked, hand itching to dry the tears of the other boy’s face. He tried to control his need by closing his hands in fists.
“It was just a nightmare,” Sev said, thumb passing through a whole on his hand-me-down robes. James thought that maybe he should buy him new ones. Those were far too large and far too dull for him. “Did you bring me muffins?” His voice was so small and hopeful that James knew he’d bake the damn things himself for Sev if he had to.
“I’m sorry, I forgot. I can go to the kitchens and ask the house-elves for a few” he suggested, but Sev just shook his head and said:
“I--,” he stopped, and that adorable frown that appeared in his forehead made him swoon. He was completely screwed. “You can stay,” he asked, after a few seconds of silence.
“Okay. Did Evans come to see you?” He asked, after a few minutes of silence. Sev looked down, seeming sad and James held his hand gently, making circular motions on the smooth skin. Severus’ eyes widened and the Gryffindor took his hand off, feeling self-conscious all of the sudden.
“Madam Pomfrey said that she came when I was asleep--” with a heavy heart, James was reminded that the boy used to have a massive crush on her in the past. Was that still the case? “But she left before I woke up.”
“I’m sure she’ll come around,” he said. James was still unsure of whether or not Lily would, in fact, forgive him, but he’ll talk to her about it. He didn’t want Sev to be alone, he wanted him to have his friend back. “Okay, let’s continue with the questions,” he said, desperate for a change of subject. He took the paper again and read: “Do you have a secret hunch about how you will die?” Merlin, that was morbid!
“Huh, that’s a weird question,” Severus said, frowning and rolling his eyes. “I guess if I were to die is because my soulmate rejected me.” He sounded so nonchalant about it like it was such an easy thing for him to think about it.
James knew that whoever had Sev as his soulmate would be lucky as hell, and for the first time, he felt himself hoping for things that weren’t his business to hope for. What would it be like? To hold him, to kiss him, to have him on his arms? That was a dangerous path he was walking on, and he knew it.
“They wouldn’t reject you,” his voice sounded rougher than he intended, and Sev flinched with the graveness of it.
It was funny because now he could see the questions on Sev’s eyes clearly even though he tried to hide it, absurd questions like: Who would want me? I would. I do. He wants to say, but now more than ever he knows the value of knowing when to stop talking.
“I hope I die of old age, I hope I get to have children and that they get to live in a better world than this one,” he said, dreamily. It wasn’t likely, not with You Know Who in power, but James had to believe that he would be stopped, somehow.
“Merlin, your children would be spoiled rotten,” there was no bite behind those particular words. “I can only imagine a mini you and Lily running around Hogwarts.” James had thought about it more times than he could count, but the picture he conjured up now seemed all sorts of wrong. “They’d probably have her eyes.”
James didn’t want that, anymore. For so long, all he obsessed over was having a perfect little family with Evans, but now he could barely think about it without shivering with the wrongness of it all.
Damn it.
Remus always said that when he fell, he fell hard and fast. Turns out he was right. But what he felt for Lily truly paled in comparison to what he was feeling right now, and James knew he couldn’t go about it as he did with her. He needed time to think, to set things straight.
“I brought you the notes from the Potions class again,” he said, handing them over. “And don’t you dare complain about my handwriting!” The Slytherin didn’t need to know that James wrote the whole damn thing twice just to make sure Sev could understand. Wow, he was really pathetic.
“Thanks, Mr. Potter,” he drawled in a low tone that had James wishing he could pin Sev down the bed to kiss him senseless. Bad, James! He chastised himself. “What would you like in return?”
Your mouth on mine would be a pretty good start. “You can pay me back in kisses.” What. The. Actual. Fuck. James wished that the floor would swallow him whole, but when he saw the prettiest blush spreading through Sev’s cheeks, he found that he’d humiliate himself further just to see him blush like that again.
“In your dreams,” Sev said, avoiding his gaze. The Gryffindor knew that he’d be dreaming about that for days to come and his hand would certainly complain about it. “Are you going to keep this up once I’m out of here?” James could see the real doubt in Sev’s eyes, and he tried hard not to scoff.
“I will,” James really didn’t want to stay away, didn’t want Severus to think this was some kind of prank. “And it’s not a prank either.”
Severus still didn’t trust him, but it was fine, James would do one thing at a time. Now that he knew who Severus was, now that he could see him more clearly, James found that he never wanted to let him go.