The Stag and The Harpy | James Potter

Trust

James is reluctant when he hands over Regulus Black's memories.

Phoebe has already gone to get ready for bed, crestfallen and exhausted. Dumbledore takes the vials, asking calmly, "I assume I was correct that there was no fight?"

James hesitates, assessing the old wizard. Phoebe seemed to trust him, but she also trusted Regulus. And Regulus didn't seem to be Dumbledore's greatest fan. Doubt swirls in James' mind, and maybe a day ago he would've said more. But he decided to heed Regulus' warning, saying simply,

"No fight."

Dumbledore smiles and opens his mouth to say something when James interrupts him, voice curt, "You better know what you're doing. This game you're playing—"

"I can assure you, Mr. Potter, that my intentions in sending you and Miss Griffin tonight were pure. She cares for the boy, and he cares for her. He would have not handed over his memories to just anyone."

James bristles slightly, replying, "Why do you want to see them. The memories. You want to watch Phoebe tortured?"

"It becomes easier to spot patterns and links when they are in this form," Dumbledore answers calmly, eyes appraising James. Despite James' obvious anger, the wizard held no irritation or animosity of his own.

"Fine. Keep your secrets, but I will not allow you to use her. To weaponize her," James warns, sending him a final hard look before leaving the hallway and climbing up the stairs. He nearly heads straight to her room, but stops outside the door of the bathroom. He hesitates before he gently turns the knob. Unlocked. She wanted him there.

He smiles slightly and slips inside, gently shutting the door and murmuring a spell to lock in behind him.

Phoebe opens her eyes, lifting her head from where it was resting against the edge of the tub. She pulls her knees to her chest, looking up at him with fearful grey eyes as she whispers,

"Who are we supposed to trust, J?"

James goes to kneel by the side, but her wet hands reach out and grab the edge of his shirt to tug on it purposefully. His lips twitch and he nods, pulling his shirt up over his head before stripping the rest of the way. He sinks into the water across from her, gently squeezing her knee as he squishes his larger frame into the tub. Phoebe smiles at how he adjusts awkwardly until he's comfortable.

He leans his arm on the edge of the tub, his head resting in his propped up hand as he looks at her silently. He mentally thanks whatever greater power is listening. Thanks them that she's okay. Even though this mission wasn't dangerous, it could've been, so he thanks them profusely over and over in his head.

He finally sighs and says quietly, "Each other. We trust each other, P."

She nods once, settling in to the bath water so it covers her shoulders. It's a desperate attempt to make her muscles relax. James continues, but not before he grabs his wand and casts a silencing spell on the room,

"We don't tell anyone what we saw tonight. What we gave to Dumbledore. If nothing else, it will protect Regulus. If someone in the order is truly mingling with death eaters and they found out that Regulus was a traitor...he'd be dead before we could even think to help."

Phoebe feels a surge of affection. He was concerned about Regulus too. She sighs, reaching out and gently stroking his hair out of his eyes. James catches her hand and presses a quick kiss to her wet palm.

"Just me and you," James says firmly. "We're going to have to keep some of these things just between us. At least until we figure out who we can trust for sure."

"Not even Sirius?" Phoebe whispers, her brows furrowed. James hesitates before nodding, his voice hushed too despite the silencing charm, "Not even Sirius. This is the only way to keep people safe for now. It's the only way for us to be safe."

Fear tugs at her heart. She clenches her eyes shut, trying desperately to imagine a world where the didn't have to have secrets. Where there was no issues of blood purity, no picking sides. No war. When she opens her eyes again and sees James staring at her with such certainty, such love, she comes to a quick conclusion.

"I don't want to wait any longer," She expects her voice to shake. It doesn't. She's steady, firm. She feels as certain as he looks. James tilts his head in confusion, wondering, "Wait for what?"

Phoebe laughs before she can stop it, nudging him with her foot, "To marry you, you bloody moose! I don't want to wait."

James blinks at her silently. His lips twitch into a wide smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the edges and causes her heart to sing. She smiles as he asks, "Really?"

"Really. I'm so tired of being scared, James. I'm terrified that something bad is going to happen any second. Before I get the chance to marry you."

James grins and suddenly lunges at her, water splashing up out of the tub and across the floor as they both erupt with more laughter. James presses his mouth to hers in a kiss that lights up his soul. He was made for this, he decides. Made to make Phoebe Griffin smile and laugh. Made to kiss her and make her sigh so beautifully it makes his head spin.

Phoebe moans quietly, her hands grabbing his biceps for support as he leans over her, pinning her to the back of the tub. His tongue teases her lip before delving into her mouth and claiming her. She gasps when he pulls back suddenly, his smile still bright as he murmurs,

"This week. Let's do it this week."

Phoebe's smile wobbles slightly. She's so happy she feels like she may cry. When he leans his forehead against hers she reaches up and tangles her fingers in his messy hair.

"This week," She confirms, grinning wider when he lets out an excited cheer before pulling her lips back to his, the two of them a tangle of limbs and smiles and laughs.

They stay in the tub until the water runs cold, their smiles never fading as James whisks her into her room.

And the rest of their evening is full of whispering about the wedding, danger forgotten and instead replaced with hope.