ivy! → james potter

v. back to hogwarts

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NUMBER 12 GRIMMAULD PLACE was filled with excitement the morning of September 1st. The many school-aged kids present were dispersed throughout the house, finishing up their last minute packing as their parents made sure they didn't forget anything significant. Lucy had decided to stop by before work, more for moral support than anything else. She found joy in watching them all go about their business, honestly; it reminded her of her own time at Hogwarts.

"Do you ever miss it?" James was suddenly by her side, looking just a tad exasperated from all of the fuss the morning had brought so far.

"Of course," she replied, turning to face him.
"Things were a lot simpler back then. We knew a war was coming, but we were more concerned about Quidditch and exams."

"They have to worry about it all," he sighed.
"This war, it's going to take what's left of their childhoods away from them, I already know it—hell, it already has, in a way." Lucy nodded solemnly.

"They do have a lot on their plates...but I reckon they'll still have the same teenage drama to go through as the rest of us did," she reassured, and James let out a chuckle.

"I'd take the teenage drama over a war any day. My main priorities back then consisted solely of pulling pranks, Quidditch, and you." The last part had slipped out, she could tell by the way his eyes widened shortly after, and a smile danced across her lips as a way of telling him it was quite all right.

"Mine were about the same, though you know I never was one for pranks." James couldn't help but smile himself.

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15 OCTOBER, 1977. FALL WAS IN FULL SWING that morning as Lucy Mayfield made her way down to the Quidditch Pitch. The trees were barren, their colored leaves spread out across the grounds, and a cool wind swept down the hill, making her grateful for the jumper she had pulled on before leaving her dormitory. It was looking to be a picturesque day; there were no clouds in the sky, giving her an unobstructed view of the the sun as it rose over the mountains. Even the temperature of the air wasn't so bad with her jumper, and it was enough to make her genuinely look forward to that afternoon's Hogsmeade visit.

Lucy loved Quidditch. She wouldn't outright say it, because she generally tended to keep personal matters to herself, but she loved the sport more than any other. She was a Chaser for the Slytherin team, and a damn good one at that; anyone with a brain could see it. Unfortunately for her, the rest of her team didn't have brains, meaning she was constantly subjected to their bullshit, but her love for the sport allowed her to push all that aside come practice or match time. She always felt so free up on her broom with the Quaffle in her arms, weaving through players from other teams and heading for the goal posts. It was exhilarating and relaxing and healing all at the same time. Flying above the Quidditch Field was one of the places she felt she could truly be herself.

Lucy Mayfield was not one to hang onto minor inconveniences, but she had been passed over for captain, and that irked her. Had the other choice been sensible it wouldn't have bothered her, but she knew for a fact Slughorn only chose Nott because he was in the Slug Club. She would have been a far better captain that he was, but alas, she had been tossed aside. She wasn't surprised; she was the only one on the team who wasn't a pure-blood, and the only reason they had accepted her was because she was simply too good to pass up. Still, she deserved to be captain, and that was a minor inconvenience she held onto for years out of mere spite.