The Stag and The Harpy | James Potter

Heal

James was getting his bath he'd bargained for.

The boys helped haul him up to the bathroom by Phoebe's room and once they set him down to rest on the toilet, Sirius pulled Phoebe out into the hall.

She, Remus, and Sirius wrap their arms around one another in a group hug, holding each other tightly for a few long minutes. They'd almost lost one today. They'd almost lost James.

"I better go. Who knows what trouble he's going to cause," Phoebe whispers, relief in her voice. Sirius nods and smiles, replying quietly, "If you need help let us know. Though I'd rather not see prongs naked."

Remus nods in agreement, and then he and Sirius walk back down the stairs while Phoebe slips back inside the bathroom.

She and James stare at each other silently. She catalogues his injuries, the bruising and lacerations on his face, the awful purple mark that covers half his stomach. He'd nearly died. He was so close to dying.

"Phoebe," He murmurs, weakly lifting his arm and holding out his hand. She held it delicately, walking forward into his arms before he could try to pull. He was shorter than her here, able to rest his weary head on her stomach while she so carefully runs her fingers through his hair.

"Thank you," she whispers from above him. He slowly cranes his head to look up at her, resting his chin on her so he can see her eyes. She's crying again, so he wraps his arms around her middle and mumbles,

"I meant every word, love. I did. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you."

"I love you."

James swears it's better than the first time she said it. Because behind her tears she has the tiniest knowing smile, and he can feel her heart beating rapidly. To hear her say it...his lungs are working better, his head doesn't hurt, his energy is restored. Phoebe Griffin loves him.

"I love you," He whispers, reaching up to pull her down to him, desperate to taste her.

He slides his lips on hers, gentle and painstakingly slow and sweet. He wants more, he's just about to tease her lips with his tongue. But then she pulls away and says firmly,

"Let's get you cleaned up."

James nods and tries his best to help her when she undresses him. He leans heavily on her, grunting in pain when he has to step into the bath. It takes a while, but they do it together. One step at a time.

When he finally sinks into the warm water a quiet sigh escapes him. Though he's not sure if it's Phoebe or the water that's soothing his aching muscles and bones.

Phoebe doesn't wait before she's scrubbing his arms and hands, freeing them of dirt. She wants it to be gone, wants every reminder of his close call with death to disappear. She uses her wand to drain and refill the tub until his skin is pink from her scrubbing and the water runs clear.

"Come in," James murmurs, suddenly desperate to hold her. She's just out of reach. He needs to hold her.

"James," she warns, glancing away from him. She should get him to bed. He needs rest.

"No funny business I swear!" He says quickly, reaching up and grabbing her hand. She sighs and looks at him for a few quiet moments before nodding and climbing to her feet.

He pulls his lip between his teeth and bites down hard when she shoves her pants down her long legs. His eyes follow the motion of her removing her shirt, the way her hair falls down looking crazy but perfect. His breathing grows shallower when she finally stands naked above him.

"No funny business," She says firmly, though he can see her lips twitching at the corners. He groans when she steps into the steaming water and asks hopefully,

"A little funny business?"

She doesn't answer, so not all hope is lost. But then she sits on the opposite side of the tub, too far from him. He frowns, eyeing her mischievous look.

"Come here," He insists, reaching out to grab her foot under the water. She flinches, ticklish. James grins and goes to gently tickle her foot again but then she's muttering "fine."

She water sloshes around them as she moves, coming closer and carefully pressing her back to his front. He bands his arms around her waist and rests his chin on her shoulder. He was warm and strong. And Phoebe begins to cry again, because it's all too much. Today was too much. All she can do is cry.

"Shhh," James whispers, gently running his hands up her arms to tangle in her wet hair. "It's fine, Phoebe. I'm fine."

"But I'm not," She chokes out. "James, I thought you were gone."

She turns around in his arms, looking up at his tired smile and warm eyes. She cups his face, running her thumb across his cheek carefully. He watches her silently, biting back the laughter that nearly escapes at the sight of her furrowed brow. He lifts his hand and strokes away her tears, saying playfully,

"I wish I had my bloody glasses."

"I grabbed your spare ones from the house," She says gently. His heart nearly explodes at how thoughtful she is. She's brilliant. His smile fades a little and he wonders, "Is it....different?"

She nods, taking a deep breath before answering honestly, "It's colder. Quiet. Unnervingly quiet. I grabbed everything I could manage."

"That's okay, I'm sure you got everything." He leans down and gently brushes his lips across hers to soothe away the ache his parents death has left in his soul, smiling when she grumbles,

"Mia would fucking murder you for the stunt you pulled today."

"I suppose it's a good thing she has you to keep me in check then," He teases, finally kissing her deeply.

His heart feels warm, weightless. He stares down at her silently for a few long moments. He memorizes the shades of grey in her eyes, the way her dimples show when she tries not to smile. The tiny line between her brows from getting mad or frustrated.

He wants to ask her to marry him. But this doesn't feel like enough. Or at least not right. He wants more, he wants to show her how much she means to her. How the thought of her kept his head above water when he was so tired of fighting, so ready to give in to death's whispers in his ear.

So instead he leans his forehead against hers, whispering,

"You make me strong."