The Stag and The Harpy | James Potter

Sated

{{question! ( I know your probably tired of them) I wrote a potential break up scene between J and P. Honestly, I'm trying to draw this story out as long as possible so I'm liking the idea of some ~drama~ it wouldn't be for quite a few chapters but I'm curious to hear your opinions. Let me know!}}

James grins inwardly as he gently runs his fingers up and down his girlfriends spine, admitting lowly, "I think I have a weird fettish."

"Don't tell me it's Veela."

He snorts at her words, tickling her sides briefly before saying, "No. Your back."

"My back?" Phoebe asks, quirking a brow at him. She's laying on her stomach, head propped on one crooked arm and her pillow as she watches him. He nods and shrugs, dancing his fingers across the smooth expanse of skin. Phoebe smiles at him and murmurs, "Well I suppose they're are worse things you could be turned on by."

James chuckles and nods in agreement, leaning down to kiss the dimples just above her bum. She's reaches back and swats him away, asking incredulously, "Don't tell me you want to go again?"

"I'm always going to want to go again, love. You're my addiction."

"Hmm, I would've guessed sniffing broom polish was your addiction."

"Oi," James grunts, pinching her side. She jumps and laughs, wriggling away from his touch. James narrows his eyes playfully at her and rests his head on his hand, propped up by his elbow. Phoebe smiles at him, eyeing his toned muscles and tan skin. His gentle smile. He interrupts her viewing by asking,

"Do you have a dad?"

Phoebe blinks, surprised by the question.

"Everyone has a dad."

James sighs exasperatedly, "Yes, I know that. I mean do you know him."

Phoebe shakes her head, a rueful smile on her lips.

"No," she says softly. "I've never met him. I don't have a clue who he is. My mum used to tell me about him though."

James nods for her to continue. She smiles and says, "They met in Paris. My grandmother and mother had just moved their together, even though she was of age she lived with her until she had me."

Phoebe sighs, closing her eyes as the stories her mum told her come flooding back.

"Apparently he was tall and handsome and had the darkest hair she'd ever seen. He was older, but she told me he was the funniest and most charming man she'd ever met. She said he was Veela but I don't know if I believe that. I've never met a male Veela before."

James smiles and runs his fingers through her hair. He asks quietly, "Will you ever go back? To France?"

She peeks one eye open and smiles, saying honestly, "I suppose that depends on you. Our plans after Hogwarts."

James' smile grows brighter, his heart warming in his chest in a pathetically love sick way that his friends would tease him relentlessly for.

"Our plans?" He wonders, tracing the bridge of her nose with his thumb. She laughs quietly and nods.

"Unless you've grown tired of me by then."

"I'll never grow tired of you, Phoebe Griffin."

"Good," She says with laughter bubbling from her chest. "I think I'd have rotten luck getting another boyfriend."

James wrinkles his nose at the thought and grumbles, "I doubt that."

He hesitates before he asks a question that's been weighing heavily on his mind, "Will you still do magizoology? When school ends?"

Phoebe sighs and looks at him calmly, her mouth tilting down at the sides slightly.

"I reckon that I'll have to put that off for sometime."

James feels internal relief flood him. It quickly fades when she continues,

"There's a war to be fought and I know which side I'm on."

"Phoebe—"

"Don't start. If anyone has stake in this bloody fight, it's me. How am I supposed to even think about the future if there's people out there trying to wipe anyone but pure bloods from existence? The same people that murdered my mother."

James sighs and frowns, his fingers moving to her cheek. He shakes his head and whispers, "I just want you to be safe."

"No one is safe. Not anymore."

She's right, he knows she is. But it still stirs something deep in his soul that screams at him to not let her do anything that will put her in jeopardy.

He smiles faintly and mumbles, "What about kids?"

Phoebe freezes and stares at him like he's grown another head.

"Kids?" She squeaks, raising her brows. A deep chuckle rumbles in his chest and she relaxes slightly, realizing that he's trying to get a rise out of her.

"Don't do that," She scolds, smacking his chest. He grabs her hand and pulls it to his lips, kissing her fingertips gently.

"Don't look so scared," He shoots back, quirking his brow at her.

Phoebe sighs and groans, "You're skipping quite a few steps, Potter."

"You're right, we should practice more."

"Practice what?" She wonders, narrowing her eyes at his cheeky grin.

"Sex of course."

She laughs and shakes her head, brushing his hair back out of his eyes.

"You're bloody crazy," Phoebe says, holding back more laughter. James shrugs and replies easily, "Is it a crime to picture my future with you? I like kids. And Merlin knows we'd make pretty ones."

Phoebe smiles slightly, but nervousness roots itself in her stomach. James must know because his smile softens and he wants to press further on the matter, but decides against it,

"Think Padfoot heard you screaming my name?"

"Shut up!" She laughs, shaking her head. James chuckles and presses a kiss between her shoulder blades, mumbling, "I remember when I first saw you. My 11 year old self is shitting over the fact that I landed you."

She grins, picturing 11 year old James with crooked glasses and a gap between his front teeth.

"I couldn't believe my luck when you'd been sorted into Gryffindor," James continues. "I swore you were a Veela, but no one believed me."

"My hair wasn't as blonde then. It was hard for people to tell," Phoebe says with mirth, relaxing underneath the gentle kisses he was placing on her back.

"I could tell. You were...different. I'd never seen magic like yours. Even then I could tell."

Phoebe rolls over to face him completely, smiling up at his face. His eyes are soft, full of nostalgia. Phoebe grins slyly, nearly confessing that she thought that James had been cute too. Instead she says playfully, "I had the biggest crush on Peter."

James gasps and moves to hover over her, saying darkly, "You better be joking, Griffin."

She shrieks when he tickles her sides as punishment, laughter and love emitting from both of them.