Chapter Text
Wake up,
Change,
Eat,
Go to school,
Sleep.
Again and again and again.
At the end of James’ fifth year, James had gotten pulled out of exams and was told that his mother requested him home. He was told to pack his things and go to Dumbledores office to use the floo. Everything happened so quickly; it was terrifying.
The moment he got home he felt something unusual. A gut feeling that something bad was about to happen. An instinct that told him to get ready.
For the first time, the house was quiet, there were no clanging sounds of the dishes washing themselves, or his mother and fathers laughter, or the sound of their two house elves apparition around. You couldn’t even hear the birds singing.
The silence had never felt louder. Though it wasn’t completely silent, there were muffled sobs cutting through the thick air. Faint muffled sobs coming from upstairs. James put his luggage on the sofa and sprinted upstairs with speed he didn’t know he had.
Then he arrived up stairs, He realized the muffled sobs had in fact came from the spare room, the medical room if you will. It was quite far the corridor though. Walking through a hallway had never felt so terrifying. He could feel the air thicken and the tension rise as he reached the door. Reaching out for the handle.
Reaching,
..reaching,
Opening the door now…
God this is scary.
And There he was, Monty, lying on the bed, his father’s skin looked gray but kind of blue at the same time, his skin, which narrowed in so much that you could see his bones and facial structure. There were green spots all over his body and rashes that looked like burns. His eyes were open, and in them was a reflection of pain, He tried to act fine, tried to speak but he didnt look as if he had the energy. And there was his mother was sitting across of the corpse-like figure of his father trying to get him to eat but his father just couldn’t seem to open his mouth. Like he didn’t have control over his jaw.
It must be a bogart. It can’t be true.
“m-mum?” The word sounded pathetic, like a plea or a whimper, he was trying to act brave, to comfort his mother. Not worry her even more.
His mother immediately, without hesitation stood up and hugged James. He probably looked as scared as he felt, probably even more.
“mum? Mum what’s going on” Effie felt light, as if she herself wasn’t eating. His mother’s hug wasnt warm and welcoming like it usually was, rather, it was like she was hopless and scared. James had to hold his mum up while also hugging her back.
“its okay ”she whispered, after she took a long shaky breath “don’t worry well be fine it’s just monty hes-“ she released another shaky breath than she go of him to sit back down and motioned for him to join her.
James followed his mum over to the small couch and waited for her to start talking.
“Jamie, ja’an, look at me” she took a deep,shaky, breath, as if she was trying to calm herself down “monty- he's been diagnosed with dragonpox-”
“Oh” didn’t Remus mention something about dragonpox before? That it wasn’t that dangerous or something, “can’t dragon pox be treated? Dads gonna get better right?” James already knew the answer to his most likely useless question judging by his mums face.
“This is a different type of dragon pox- a more dangerous type, it can’t be cured or treated because it’s been diagnosed too late”
Oh
.
The next two weeks were a blur. His father trying to act like he was fine even if he wasn’t. His mother trying to get everyone to spend time together. Trying to nurse Monty back to help.
It didn’t work.
On the 13th day, Fleamont potter passed. He passed with both his wife and his son next to him. At 66 years of age, the world lost another good person. He was buried two days after
A week after the funeral his mum died in her sleep. Her heart had stopped working. The doctor said it was because of heart break. She was buried right next to her husband.
James was alone.
Grief is something not many people talk about. How come nobody warned him of the pain that follows after. The realization, the denial, the refusal to accept what happened. The pain and the fear of being alone.
Why?
James was good, he helped people, he never did anything wrong, he was there and made people smile and gave and loved. His mother and father were good, they helped and helped and helped and helped. They welcomed people in need.why did they have to die.why did they have to go. Why couldn’t someone awful like Voldemort die.
It isn’t fair. It just isn’t fair. James refuses to accept it. He won’t he wont,he wont,hewont.
.
The house is silent again. This time, nothing cuts through. The house looks dull aswell, no laughter to make it seem happier, the colors dont feel as vibrant as they were Before. The house elves havent come out of their coves, to busy grieving for their late masters. It’s been Two weeks since his mother’s death now, three since his father’s. Three weeks left till summer ends . hes really got to pull himself together.
For the first time in two weeks, he gets out of his bed. For the first time in two weeks, he leaves his room. For the the first-godamn-time in two weeks James goes downstairs. He knew it would be painful and lacking but it still hit him just as hard. No matter tho because for the first time in three weeks, James feels a bit, just a teensy bit proud of himself, yet that’s enough to keep him going for maybe just another hour.
God this feels wrong.
Everything feels wrong.