The Stag and The Harpy | James Potter

Defy

James stands solemnly, staring at the dark alleyway before him.

He briefly wonders if Phoebe felt this brave when she entered Knockturn alley nearly two years ago. Back then she'd been purchasing something from Borgin and Burke's. She hadn't learned. She was still reckless, still blind with bravery.

Sometimes it hurt to love her. To worry about her constantly. But maybe that's what love is, the fear of life without one another.

He takes a deep breath in and marches forward, the sun disappearing as he ventures further. Gone was the smell of sweets and ice cream from Florean's. Instead there was an unpleasant, sour smell that only accompanies the dark and damp buildings around him that house evil.

He shoulders past a few elderly witches and Wizards, keeping his face stoic when they reach for his arms, for his pockets. He tries to not picture Phoebe doing this, getting groped by strangers desperate for a galleon or something worse.

James pauses for a brief moment outside of the White Wyvern. He steels himself, prepared for a fight, prepared to do whatever it takes to protect his wife and his unborn child.

When he swings the door open, he's surprised to find the pub empty except for the wizard cleaning glasses behind the bar. Not that it would need to be empty to find Lucius Malfoy. James was certain that he could pick the nasty wizard out in a crowded quidditch pitch, let alone a dark and crowd free room.

He stares at the staff that rests comfortably against Lucius' leg, his eyes lingering on the bejeweled head of it before he walks over and slides into the booth across from him. James had always though Snape was the picture of evil, dark beady eyes, greasy hair. Lucius made him think otherwise. He was well off, dressed in the finest robes with pin straight hair the color of snow.

"Malfoy," James speaks first, the greeting feeling heavy on his tongue as he stares into the snake like eyes before him. Lucius smiles, a proper one that doesn't show teeth. Just a hint of distain.

"James Potter," The wizard replies, his lips twitching as he continues, "My sister in law has a lot to say about you."

James instantly sees red, a growl tearing from his throat as he snaps, "Lestrange—"

"Is mentally unstable? Yes, Potter. You and I do agree on somethings. Bellatrix and her irrationality being one of them."

James blinks in surprise, his hand tightening on his wand in his pocket. Lucius asks in a dreadful drawl, "Can I interest you in a drink?"

"No," James replies curtly. "I'd like to know what it is you want from me."

He picks anxiously at his cuticles beneath the table, hopeful that his face is as stony as ever. Phoebe had taught him that. How to mask his emotions. And he taught her how to feel them.

Lucius steeples his fingers together, resting them purposefully under his chin. He doesn't lean forward to rest his elbows on the table. Pureblood wouldn't do that. Malfoy's certainly wouldn't. James' father had told him plenty about Abraxas Malfoy, Lucius' father. And what he'd heard, he didn't like.

"My wife is expecting as well," The blonde wizard says slowly, though James interrupts him before he can continue, asking lowly,

"I suppose your wife doesn't know that you kissed mine?"

Lucius winces. Finally. A chip in his facade. His face grows angry, his mouth a tight line. The silence is James' answer. Narcissa Malfoy has no idea that her husband spent an afternoon with Phoebe in this very pub. That he had flirted, kissed, chalked up his marriage to a dreadful arrangement. James smirks slightly, feeling a smidge of pride in his wife. She'd manipulated the bastard.