The Stag and The Harpy | James Potter

Morning

When James cracks his eyes open, he expects the same searing pain he'd experienced the night before. He was confused to find himself only slightly sore.

The boy could too easily recall the pain of his bones breaking, almost as bad as the pain of growing them back together. His memory was blurred, however. He didn't remember how he got to the hospital wing or taking the potion. He had a faint recollection of Dumbledore whispering something to Peter.

James is stirred from his musings by the curtain sliding open to reveal Madam Pomfrey. She stares at him, a combination of surprise and irritation on her face.

"You boys use more of my resources than the rest of the castle combined," She scolds, walking over to set down a glass of water by his bed side. Her tone softens as she says, "Utterly miraculous, your recovery. Thanks to your friend."

James furrows his brow as she nods her head in the direction of his other side. James slowly turns his head, eyes widening at the sight of Phoebe Griffin. Her knees are pulled up to her chest, her body tightly curled to perch on the chair at his bedside. She has a blanket covering her, likely due to the healer. She's heart wrenchingly beautiful, even with her creased eyebrows and gentle snoring.

At the sight of her, James suddenly recalls hearing his name come from a dreamy voice in the night and his body relaxing enough to rest. Phoebe.

His heart swells and he glances back at a mischievous looking Madam Pomfrey. She smiles and walks away, shutting the curtain behind her. James completely turns onto his left side, wincing slightly. He reaches out his hand and gently touches her knee, flinching when she startles awake. The Veela sits up abruptly, growing slightly dizzy from the quick change in position. She brushes it aside, looking over to see James staring at her.

Phoebe let's out a breath of relief, saying softly, "James."

"You helped me."

She furrows her brows at the boy's croaked words, scooting to the edge of her chair to be closer.

"You remember?"

James shakes his head and murmurs, "Not everything. I remember hurting, and then hearing you and the pain going away. What did you do?"

Phoebe's lips twitch into a relieved smile, silently grateful that the boy could not remember her sniffling and crying while she soothed his recovering body. She shrugs and says quickly, "Nothing. I just sat here with you. Dumbledore said it would help."

James observes her silently as she takes him in, watching her nervous gaze take inventory of his injuries. Her eyes grow watery as she looks at the scabbed gash on his chest and the bruises along the exposed parts of his body. She tries to steel herself, push down the emotions that threaten to boil over. But she can still hear his bellows of pain and quiet whimpers through the night whenever she had removed her skin from his.

James softens at the sight of her glistening grey eyes. He scoots over on the bed and lifts up the corner of the blanket, melting as she slowly untangles herself from the cold metal chair and slides in next to him. Phoebe relaxes into his warmth, smiling as he curses, "You're fucking freezing, Bee."

"I'm always cold," She reminds him quietly, gently nestling herself up against his chest so as not to hurt him. James notes her gingerly avoiding touching him so he wraps his arm around her, bringing her in tight to his side. His other hand comes up to wipe the stray tear that falls from her lashes.

"You scared me," Phoebe admits. "You really fucking scared me, James."

"I'm fine," He answers truthfully, leaning his forehead against hers. He relishes the contact, relieved to feel her cool skin against his. Her hand smooths up his side, feeling the dents of his muscles and ribs and James stares at her in awe as every touch soothes away his sore and bruised muscles.

"You're healing me?" James asks curiously, suddenly desperate to know how it's possible for this girl to cure every bad feeling he has. She shakes her head and smiled ruefully, "I don't think so. I think I'm just...I don't really know. Dumbledore and I are going to discuss it further."

James nods, body feeling like jelly under her touch. He closes his eyes and says, voice slurred slightly from the instant relaxation, "Feels good. Thank you."

Phoebe chuckles and gently trails her fingers up to his face, brushing away the hair that was stuck to his forehead.

"Tell me what happened," Phoebe insists, running her thumb over his furrowed brow. James sighs and opens his eyes, saying angrily,

"Snivelous."

Phoebe's eyes nearly bug out of her head.

"Snape? What was he doing on the grounds?"

"He wanted to out Remus as a werewolf. We knew he'd been suspicious for a while, but we didn't think he'd actually come looking."

Phoebe chews on the inside of her cheek, saying haughtily, "He better apologize to Remus."

James scoffs and rolls his eyes, "That'll never happen. Besides Remus doesn't care about Snivelous. He's beating himself up that we got hurt in the process of protecting the slimy git."

Phoebe nods, hesitating before saying, "He and Sirius brought me breakfast. He did look awfully upset. I tried to tell him it wasn't his fault, but he wouldn't listen."

James sighs and leans into her touch, relishing the tingles that shoot down his spine at the feeling of her playing with his hair.

"He'll come around. He did after you were a bloody moron last year."

Phoebe tries her hardest to seem angry at her words. "I'm not a moron," She defends, lips itching to smile.

"No, but that was another instance of you smoking at night when you were supposed to be in bed," James points out, grinning at her wrinkled nose. She waves him off, her smile fading as she looks into his eyes.

"If you're going to ask me to be careful, then I'm going to insist you do the same," Phoebe whispers, heart sinking as she recognizes that this is likely not the last time they will face danger for sometime.

James' smile fades as well, noting the concern and nervousness on her face. He leans in and kisses her chastely, their lips just barely touching. He pulls back slightly and rubs his thumb across her lower lip, luxuriating in how good it feels to be close to her like this. And how he too is scared it will be taken away.

"Don't worry, Griffin. I'm not going anywhere...at least until our third date."

"Third?" She asks playfully. "Did I miss the second one?"

"Our quiet dinner in the kitchens," James says, tone as if he's saying 'duh' to the girl.

Phoebe narrows her eyes and tutts quietly.

"I suppose if that's what you consider a date. Normally mine consist of more kissing."

James groans and mutters, "Shut up you tease."

The two spend the rest of the day resting, Phoebe soothing his pain with her touch and James soothing her mind with his words.

Unbeknownst to the two, they each fall more in love.