ADDICTED | j.p x oc

56

Euphemia and Fleamont Potter passed in mid-November of 1978. Dragon pox was a fast disease, a diagnosis—especially at their age—was more like a death sentence. It seemed odd, in a war where so many people were being murdered, that they would die of an unrelated cause. It was Mia who passed first, Monty following her a few days after.

The funeral was small, held on the grounds of the Potter Manor with only Order members present. James was as heartbroken as El had expected him to be, though the element of surprise had been taken away from it. He then found himself filling his days with organisation so as to not dwell on what had happened.

The decision was made that El and James would stay in their flat, and not move back to Potter Manor. James' family home would remain in his possession, but uninhabited until he decided otherwise.

Since his parent's passing, James seemed attached to El's hip, he refused to be alone throughout the day unless absolutely necessary—even when they were in the same room, he looked physically uncomfortable unless they were next to each other. El didn't mind this, she actually quite liked it, she had always been far better at physical touch rather than words of comfort, so she allowed James' clinginess, it at least meant she could get him to shower, eat and sleep. 

El never allowed herself to dwell on her own sadness of Euphemia and Fleamont's passing, so focused on making sure James did not dwell on his. They had been uncommonly kind people, accepting El into their home without another thought, with no prejudgments or expectations. In the short time she had known them, they had been closer to parents than her biological family had ever been.

Before anyone knew what was happening, December had arrived, greeting London with heavy rain, as opposed to the snow that normally fell at Hogwarts at this time of year. Dumbledore had surprisingly allowed James and El a few weeks off from their missions, but had clearly decided two weeks was long enough to heal from the death of both parents, and was sending them both on separate missions on the second day of December.

El's mission this time was with Morgan, Sirius and Marcus Harby—something which James was very unhappy about.

"I don't trust him, El," James complained when they were both in bed the night before, "he's creepy."

"You don't like him because he touched my arse at the leavers ball," El reasoned with a teasing smirk.

James moved his hand under the covers to grip El's backside and pull her towards him. "Yeah, because i'm the only person allowed to do that."

"We're gonna be fighting death eaters, i think my arse will be the last thing on his mind." She chuckled as James massaged the flesh there.

"You'd be surprised, your arse is great."

They both let out quiet laughs, holding each other close.

"I wanna come on that mission with you," James whispered against El's neck.

She scratched his scalp calmly, taking a moment to come up with the right thing to say. "You have your own mission to go on."

"Not an important one," he grumbled, "all i have to do is check there's no Death Eaters in Hogsmeade, that will take half an hour tops. It's fucking stupid!"

"It's not my decision, James, don't get all moody with me about it," El bristled.

James' shoulders relaxed, "i know, m'sorry." He kissed her slowly, pulling her body closer the close that gap she had just put between them.

"Don't worry, Sirius is there to spy on Harby for you, 'n' besides, i'll hex Harby if he looks at my arse," El said, not one part of her was joking.

James smiled into another kiss, "i wanna see that, sounds hot."