Caramel Color Skin Care

[HP] It May Be an elaborate fantasy (It May be the perfect place to start) ~ Harry / James Jr .


Titolo: It may be an elaborate fantasy (it may be the perfect place to start)
Fandom:
Harry Potter Beta:






eowie
,




ruka_nanjou
♥♥♥
Personaggi:
James Sirius Potter, Harry Potter, Teddy Lupin; apparizioni di Ginny Weasley, Albus Severus Potter, Lily Potter Pairing:
Harry/James Jr., hints sciocchi Teddy/James Jr. Rating: Pg15

Word Count: 5616 (FDP)
Warnings: Incest colossal slash Relationship between blood relatives (father / son) quite explicit
angst Disclaimer: I characters in the history of their respective owners and creators, who hold the rights. Nothing is written for profit.
Notes: • HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOUUU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOUUUU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Metallica , HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!! \\ O / \\ o / \\ o / \\ o / \\ o / \\ o / \\ o / To say precisely, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, VANYYY! ♥ ♥ ♥ Socia, you lovvo immensely. T_T And this is just your your your your your in unimaginable ways (and could not be anyone else's good to see XD). I hope you like it, my beloved. * _ * • All this, in the days gone by, was plotted with its own Vany. * _ * • As you can see by reading the count, at some point this cursed me a fic is totally out of hand. * _ * A Ruka Ale and I said, "will not exceed 3,500 words è_é" and of course I could take a lot of faith in my words. XDDDD • James is a bit ' out of my mind, if you want to know. ♥ •
title inspired by a verse of Bright Lights of
Placebo slightly modified. ♥


It May Be an elaborate fantasy (It May be the perfect place to start)
The car provided by the Ministry in London traffic flowing quickly, dodging the cars Muggle clogging the lane, but not fast enough for him. The trip seems to him forever, just as the sermon in which his father had launched.
"Finding an alternative would only be a good idea. An idea by a person with a head on shoulders, "is telling Harry, James and focuses on the urban landscape that flows out of the window, trying to listen to as little as possible. I'm not saying that Quidditch is a great opportunity, rather , but the selections are difficult, the teams are full and I do not think you have reached very far. "
tries to bite his tongue and count to ten, but any device is useless. It is found to blurt out before you get to seven. "Damn, Dad, why do not you admit that you do not believe that I can cope with this and stop complaining?" Harry crossed his eyes in the rearview mirror and stares at him with those that are unequivocally blame, blame and anger, James is no exception, returning the look with equal anger. For a moment, it seems that there is no one else in the car and that something is about to burst, and before that can happen, however, the voice of Ginny comes to replace the situation. "That's enough, I do not want to hear another word from either," orders the woman threatening. "We will continue this discussion elsewhere, we are almost there." The spark goes out of the dispute as quickly as quickly as he had on; Harry turns to look straight ahead, the focus on the road, and James turns to his brothers, sitting with him in the seat back: Lily turned to the window, his chin resting on one hand and that boredom is certainly in the eye, while Albus, center, is encased in the shoulders and is clearly wanting to disappear, like all the times he and his father arguing. Sighing, James takes a look at the landscape, while a tense and unnatural silence stagnates in the machine. *

The atmosphere suddenly changed as soon as Harry and his family off the car park, reaching the hotel in the heart that the Ministry of Magic has hired - and armored against Muggles - the evening of Christmas Eve.

Minister of Magic moves toward them as soon as they set foot inside the room and turns to the Savior of the wizarding world with a reverence that James almost causes of disgust. He's not used to such scenes - his father has always tried to keep separate from the family celebrations that touched even though he has never understood the reason - and, especially, can not see what there is so sensational Harry Potter.
There was a period in his childhood when he looked at him as if he had been wrapped in a beautiful and heroic light, but now there is going all out to forget that he ever expressed similar thoughts - his father, found is only a mediocre man like many others. Take a seat at a round table placed at the center of the room and the attitude of his family could not be more different from the one held just before his trip: his mother beaming smiles and even Lily and Albus are at home, the first intent to peer into the Auror willing to guard the room, the second involved asking parents to the identity of every member of this magical society within those walls.
James snorts a bit 'too loudly, earning yet another cross-eyed Harry. Stop

, it seems to say. He says the look with challenge, to hold back from replying: Stop pretending to be you someone else.
It is with that impression, in fact, addressing the evening, or at least most of it, until Harry is not invited to give a speech on the dais set up on purpose and the certainties of James deteriorate slightly. The man holding the speech is not the same that brought them thither, he finds himself thinking, smiles, so much so bright, keep your back straight but a bit shyly, as if all things could not overcome the embarrassment of speaking in front of dozens of people, his words are friendly, funny, right, and the eyes of these remain fixed on him as if there was anything more beautiful, between those walls.
James recovers, without realizing it, that old admiration he felt as a child, when it appeared as the son of Harry Potter or when strangers talked to his father. Over time, began to welcome those statements monotone with annoyance, to consider it false and commemorative ceremonies such as the comments that you make on a dead man. He had spent most of his life to escape the official events in order not to hear, thanks be to remain at Hogwarts, is the desire of parents to keep their kids in the dark as much as possible of what happened during World War II.

But now all that time seems to have dissolved into a puff of smoke and James finds himself to fix their gaze on the man who speaks with a new interest, something that his father, would never have thought to spend. For a moment, before the hall bursts nell'applauso final, I think that would really have its own version and no one - not the real that has no confidence in him, he complains of his behavior, always finds a way to plunge estimates that he has of himself and, simply, is disappointed with him for most of the time, not that.
Then the Savior of the wizarding world still smiles, open to all present and no one in particular, and descends from the stage to return to the table where sits his family.
"Dad, you were great!" Albus says while the man takes his place, James felt acutely the desire to tell him the same, to confirm the enthusiasm of his brother, but then Harry looks at how to control it and the complete lack of hope in his eyes makes him go any desire. Remains silent until the end of the evening.


*


He turns in bed a few times more before finally deciding to stand up. The cold floor under her bare feet gives him a thrill throughout the body, but taken from the thoughts that surge in his head, almost no one pays attention.

glances across the room toward the bed of Albus, to check that his brother are asleep. The determination of what makes it a bit 'more calm, he does breathe more deeply, in silence, took the wand from the nightstand and moves to his cabinet on the left, sitting on the ground to open the drawer at the base of the cabinet.

Dig different between some blankets and old clothes, until you find a wooden box that, because of all the years that remained unused in there now appears a bit 'old and ruined. With a wand and whispered a spell, the lid is unlocked, open up. James opens the floor with a lump in my throat that seems to leave, knowing full well what we find inside.
Inside In fact, there are a number of photographs and newspaper articles with one common theme: Harry Potter. Remember to have them collected as a child, shortly after the start of school, when he began to understand what his father had kept hidden for so long. James had kept the secret, without telling anything to Lily and Albus or its cousins, without even saying a word with the parents simply had begun to collect items, find old newspapers and old photographs and hide everything in that box.
up to five years, he had stopped one night to watch his every found, even putting their back to Hogwarts, and to seek evidence of the man who finds his father was. He even tried to steal a license plate in his honor at this school, but the keeper had caught him in the act and almost dragged by Professor Longbottom, so he could not invent an excuse not to give up and about.

Then all of a sudden, it stopped. Just at the dawn of her sixteen years, he understood what the man of whom the article was about was different from that which was to deal with every day. He felt disappointed and even more furious, because what he wanted was just to know that all quell'Harry Potter gave the impression of love but of which there were only crumbs to James without charm. At the end

the seventh year, finding that box in the old trunk that had taken to school, after a particularly terrible fight with his father, had taken the decision not to open it ever again: he had a spell sealed and placed in the bottom of that drawer. Now is holding for the first time since then.

His eyes slowly glide on each picture, reading the titles of articles and in his mind the image of the boy triumphantly celebrated and admired by the entire wizarding world, it is incredibly close to the man who took the stage a few hours before. James felt a smile stretch the lips at the memory, and something warm to lie down in his chest - something that has always felt the presence, but that did not display more concrete for years. Albus

Then, on the other side of the room, changing position and moans in his sleep is enough to bring James to reality. The voice of reason reminded him that there is nothing to admire in Harry, that they are always his father, and he is quick to put everything in the box and close it through the spell.
After her return to its proper place, go to bed at a brisk pace, and once under the covers, pretending he had never raised that such an idea has not even touched upon. The cold that you feel him, perhaps, belongs to a very sad dream. *


is convinced his father to know every little flaw. He knows exactly what form they take her hair in the morning, when it barely awake, he knows he has a habit of not ever close the drawers of the furniture, she knows that some days it is too touchy, that when he gets angry, it can take hours before it reveals the cause and that, then when you decide to do so, his voice is always too loud and furious.
know that now you are watching, as it releases the letter from the owl's leg, and he knows that if it was running to cross his eyes, there would be no hope or expectation, but only a certain amount of resignation. He knows that his father simply did not ever see with satisfaction and that any kind of compliment that's intended, the fund has always a kind of reproach, a hum that is impossible to ignore. This, to James, is the fatal flaw he has.
The letter, sent directly by the President of the United Puddlemere, contains a waste - yet another. In formal tone and excessive big words that mean nothing, James was informed that the team is already full and do not need reservations, however, encouraging him to continue to improve and try again later with many good wishes you happy holidays.

It is found in fists around the point, resisting the need to curl and burn it instantly. Suddenly would not have it open there in the kitchen, the sight of Harry, to show its continued failure, and would like the father was sympathetic for once, to tell him, with a smile, "It's okay."

'James , "begins the man, however, hesitated a bit '. When the boy does not respond, continuing to give him away, he adds, "I said no, right?"

With a great effort, folded the letter carefully and rinfila in the bag, resting on the table. Harry nods and the sigh of the stomach due to a vice.

"At least let me or your mother give you a hand. You have different knowledge in the field, you know, it could ... "
"Do not say shit," comes out even the replica's too poisonous, the intentions of others, but James just cannot help it. "I do not want to get into a team just because I'm the son of the great Harry Potter
, okay? I do not want, "explains angrily. "You can forget it."

"Perfect," he blurts out his father with a hint of sarcasm. "Then go ahead to spend months and months as you please, imagine."

The exasperation in her voice hits a lot harder than James would slap and the only effect of giving credence to what had been previously thought . Fixed property and his father in silence, wishing with all her strength to be different, it was like portraying him in newspapers and photographs, it was the man who appears in public, the man who once a year gets on a broom for Quidditch match Benefit organized by the Ministry.

Instead it is only his father, the person that James, at the time, he hates most in the world.

Without another word, left the room at a brisk pace.


*


It seems to him a silly twist of fate, storms and Teddy find the Prophet on the desk in plain sight: on the front page of the newspaper, Harry Potter, where she portrayed on the shelf delivered a speech a few nights earlier, she smiles and nods toward the room, clutching the hand of the Minister.

James freezes, staring at the photograph almost in horror, as long as Teddy does not raise an eyebrow and attracts his attention. "Have you seen a ghost?" Question, hint of a smile. Back

itself with difficulty, shaking his head and replied, "Worse." Then he takes a chair from an empty desk next to it and sits down, resting the bag on the counter for lunch.

began to tell him what happened the next time you look at the other's addresses and, as usual, time slips away with him in nothing. The friend can even put it back in a good mood and James, for a moment, caressing the opportunity to ask him was his father before he was born - he feels that Teddy is one of the few people who tells him the truth.
and then thought, collecting scraps of lunch, is preparing to leave the office of the Auror Department. It's a little remorse of conscience, a small flash of habit that shows when they least expect to turn it back up to the desk of Teddy.
puts his hand on a copy of the Prophet and, with one of her smiles to which the other can not refuse anything, the question: "Can I take it?"

Teddy nods, shrugs, and shortly after James leaves the office, holding the paper close to his chest, like a new treasure just won.


*


Slowly, night after night and resumed watching the box regularly. It created a clear common thread among the various clippings and photos, putting them in chronological order, the last taken by the Prophet, is also the one which focuses more on the look, to trace the differences between man and the portrait that meets in the kitchen every morning and who has now almost entirely ceased to speak to her.

Then back to bed because he felt that the blankets have been made heavier, the unbearable heat, he continues to turn and turning and pictures of Harry Potter, the straight line of her back when bestrides a broom, the affable smile, bright eyes of the living, burning with determination, never leave his mind.

The heat warning, James, seems to come from within his body and has no idea how to get rid of.


*
contacts with his father in constant decline. They spend most of their time to avoid and James tends to behave so unfriendly and cold towards him, not to leave even the chance to change things - do not admit it to himself, but the truth is that he does not want that man dirty picture almost perfect that of Harry Potter.

New Year's Eve, just before going to the Burrow for the party with his grandparents, James heard his mother say, "You could at least groped to put things right? I'm tired of seeing you so, 'as it passes out of the room with parents. Instinct tells him to immobilize and stretch their ears, waiting for the answer man.

After a while comes a puff and then, "I'll try, okay?" And his voice seems so tired, so frustrated, that James can not help but feel a burden. At that time, the distance that took his father's almost hurts, but is forced to ignore it, to say that it does not matter, does not really matter.


*

Instead matter. And he discovers a few hours later, while they are immersed in the festivities of the approaching midnight. Uncle James has allowed Ron to fill the glass too many times and now has the light-headed, soft legs and a ready laugh, you feel the eyes upon Harry, alert and attentive, and he finds himself trying to anticipate when a certain 'man decides to go to him and talk to him - he knows that he will, after he heard the tone used by his mother.
Harry, in fact, is approaching soon. Initially, smiles, trying to appear relaxed and happy, but something in the eyes of James - perhaps implicit accusation - do it again stretch as a violin string.

"This is getting ridiculous," begins, in a way that James perceived as not exactly friendly. "I do not know what to do with you."

James shrugs. "Nothing," he says, "do absolutely nothing." He has an amused smile to stretch their lips, but Harry does not escape all the recrimination that his words hide. He starts to speak again, but the boy abruptly. "Just let me lose, okay?" He says, then the gap with a fluid motion and walks away.

the father would have been enough to extend an arm lock and hold it and the absence of this gesture to further irritate; feel his eyes follow, however, his eyes fixed on the back, so, like all times is on the run from something, it goes without Teddy.

found him sitting in a corner, sipping a glass of champagne, his hair a bright red, and next goes limp as if he had just had a stroke. The physical contact between them has always been a constant, so James makes Teddy put his arm around my shoulder and putting his hand behind his back. Make a few jokes, because his laughter watching him carefully, he laughs in turn, bends her head toward him, staying just a breath before being excessive. He knows he is watched over and over exaggerates the behaviors of respect, hoping for a reaction, any of them.

For a moment, about what the fantastic Harry Potter newspapers and photographs in its wooden box would do, think the way in which Marc safe to them and to peel off from Teddy by force, he thinks the possible threat that would follow and that after, of course, it takes him away, away from the others.

The reaction you get from his father, however, does not come close to anything in this fantasy, the man's angry glances, and then gives it away, disappearing between the present and then out of the room.

Teddy note that movement in the distance and suddenly, you realize the closeness of James, of his attitude over the top. "What are you doing?" Demand stiff, but the other guy is not responding. Force a smile in her direction and gets to his feet, running a hand through his hair in an affectionate gesture. "Nothing," replied. He walks away from him immediately.
*


did not hardly ever happens to meet his father when he goes to find Teddy to have lunch with him. Have happened a couple of occasions in the past months, and their reaction was a simple greeting and a couple of rumors, nothing more.

is almost entirely a surprise, when, through the rooms of the Ministry to reach the office of his friend, sees him in the distance. Harry is standing in front of two men who do not recognize, the arms close to his chest and a wand in his hand.

is angry, now includes James, but not the kind of anger that now knows to perfection, has something to do with concern, even with the flash of determination that goes into the eye. He is giving them orders, for sure, and he would go to watch it closely, however, remains still, leaning against a wall and fastening it with casual do, studying every crease of his face, every movement of his body.
The two men set him free soon after, and Harry is moving in his direction, James did not have time to get on the corridor and to escape from his view - Think they did not want either, because he likes the idea to speak with him now and find out who will be faced, whether Harry Potter or his father.
"Hey," greeted him and then when the man noticed any sign of him and approaches him.

"What are you doing here?" Is the question that's addressed. Sounds incredibly pragmatic, as if he were questioning one of his subordinates, and James is tempted to smile.

"Lunch with Teddy," replied the other hand, keeping his expression neutral. Harry's lips are contracted in a thin line for a brief moment, then open into a smile a bit 'of fact, cold. "I understand."

«Papà,» comincia James, decidendo di osare, «alleni le reclute oggi pomeriggio? Posso venire ad assistere?» Accarezza già l’idea di vederlo in azione come mai ha fatto, anche se non sul campo, di poterlo osservare lanciare incantesimi, essere almeno un briciolo dell’eroe che è stato. Quell’aspettativa si infrange di fronte al diniego di suo padre.
«Lo sai che non si può,» replica, scuotendo la testa, e deve leggergli chiaramente la delusione sul viso perché aggiunge subito: «Mi spiace.»
James sbuffa. «Figurati,» borbotta, «tanto non ci sarebbe stato nulla da vedere.» Gli dà le spalle e rientra nel corridoio which leads to the office of Teddy.





* One of the photos - one of the oldest, a little 'yellowed and creased, with the movement that sometimes jumps - show Harry Potter cast a spell.

dates back to the period immediately following the death of Voldemort and documents the capture of one of the Death Eaters is vacant. In the absolute silence of the room, now that Albus has returned to Hogwarts after the Christmas break, James still groped down the photo to superimpose the two figures, but failed completely. Always stop before, as time passes, and is instead staring at the photos portrayed as if a stranger, some people show famous and known by all, but definitely far.

to bed, get rid of the image of the boy, his arm extended, focused expression on his face from time to time is more difficult and this means that the heat unbearable. James recognizes those feelings as a desire - a desire that should not try at all - and try to really commit to drive them away.

He fails, for that night and every night following.





* The absence of his mother - committed to following the Holiday Harpies in their retreat in Scotland for a special sports of the Prophet - makes it unwise. James left the wooden box resting on the table, where it can easily reach it, conscious that no one sets foot in her room for the whole week. How
understands it was wrong when he returns home and his father's voice coming from his room exactly.
"Come here," she heard him say, in a way that looks like too much to an order for it to be ignored. James's legs instinctively begin to tremble, as if she knew what's going to happen. A heavy steps, but still unable to escape, starts toward him.

Harry is standing next to her bed and in the hands of man with horror, James sees a number of newspaper pages and photographs - the

its pages and photographs. The worst fears that the face to mind are only confirmed by the container completely open on the bed.

"What are these?" Question his father. She stares at him straight in the eyes and is shocked that James sees us inside. Gasping, trying desperately to think of an answer, any one who shoots out of that trouble fairly decent. Failed to find one.

"I ..." begins, taking time. Then he suddenly realizes that perhaps the situation in which it can draw something. Do you realize that perhaps the situation in which there is an opportunity that was waiting.

"It's you, right?" Then exclaims, getting closer and snatching the cutouts. "Or at least, what I'd like you to be." Store all in the box, reordering as best, and taken away by her father in a foolish attempt to protect her.

Harry shakes his head and frowns. I do not understand. If I wanted to know something, you'd only have to ask. I would have said, "he continues.

It's the turn of James shaking his head. "I do not know, obviously do not understand." Mentions an ironic laugh, and resumed, "I did not want to know something, I just wanted you to, at least occasionally, I was him." Indicates the box with a gesture hand and the confused look of his father irritates him, because now is not really

can not understand.

"Listen," began the man, taking a deep breath. "It is clear that among us there are problems and you're trying to annoy me, or my attention, or do not know either. But we can ... "

" Stop it, "James interrupts. Let the anger evaporate for a few moments, under the watchful eye of Harry, and is forced to breathe calmly. "I was not trying to do anything like that," he explains, "I just wanted to smile as you do when you're the damn Savior of the wizarding world. I wanted him to look at her as your Auror, because at least to them by the trust. Wish you were the hero all you believe to be. "
His voice cracked slightly in the last sentence and James curse, because now it is the time when less is showing weakness, not under the gaze of ' man. "I wish you were different, dammit," she says, running a hand through his hair and then to release the tension that you feel me.
Harry comes up to him, puts his hands on the arms and tightens, preventing him from moving. "James," begins. "James, stop. It's always me that this is, if the outside are different is because I

. You because people expect it. "

The boy wriggles, but Harry will not let him go. "What I expect I, however, does not count?" It gives another tug then, as if the forces were suddenly less freezes. "If you were that way with me, would ... would ..." looks up at him and his voice breaks. Easy

, they say,

beautiful. The images are superimposed in front of the eyes and for a brief moment, he closes his eyes and takes a breath, he feels that the photographs of Harry Potter is in front of him. The back everything in mind, every single night and spent time and moment to study the contents of the box, to turn over in bed with one thought in mind, the warmth, the desire, the weight of the chest that each of these things involve.
'd be the person I want , is the natural conclusion that looks to his mind, and is also the worst that could come.
Without finishing the sentence, moves forward, resting his forehead on the shoulder of the man who does not know how to identify because they can not find the strength to open my eyes and check.

Harry holds him in a hug, trying to calm him down, holding a hand on his neck and an arm around her shoulders. Part of his rationality tells James that she must be away, to have to re-establish its equilibrium, first, to be cautious, be attentive, and the contact, however, is comforting because it would leave too. It is a relief at least compared to what it would really, but it's still something, and James's life around with his arms buried his face in the hollow between his neck and his shoulder trying to breathe air, but only inhaling the odor of his body, which is something stranger suddenly, suddenly different.



not good, they say,
not good, but with closed eyes and the real world forcibly pushed out of his head to pretend it is so easy that you can not impedirselo and the need to find relief, the need of support, covering any glimmer of lucidity.
Basically, in the back of his mind, his heart and everything else that drives his actions, James hears a voice alert, continue to beg him to take a step back and walk away -

save - but the nights are were long and exhausting, the desire was too visceral and harmful, and his hand up along the shoulder until posarglisi Harry on the cheek without them fully aware. The comes the echo of the movement, rather, as if that was part of a fantasy, and it is only when his lips rest on those of the man who realizes that everything is happening. Harry lets

James shot to go and finally bouncing back, putting more space between them as his trembling legs allow it. He runs his hands over his face, then turning his back to avoid in every way to look at the man - his father

- instead it remains motionless, bewildered. She keeps her eyes fixed on the floor, looking for a stable point to allow the reality to stop and turn to the sense of nausea to pass unnoticed; want to disappear, run away, but it is certain that the muscles do not support him at the time, so you merely stand still, half clinging to the wall.

Harry's voice came after what seems an eternity of silence and is weak, tinged with something that recognizes them as terrorists. "James," he calls it, but the boy does not have the strength to look up, does not have the courage to pay attention.
"I must go," says the other hand in a barely audible whisper, speaking more to himself than to his father. He can turn his shoulders and finally to move out of the room and then from the house.
The man does nothing to stop it.


*


The following day, James spent making them sleep for several friends - those who do not know him well enough to make him the right questions - and spend most of the time outside the home, without in any way possible to stay in his room and in the presence of his father.
When his mother returns, the glacier which fell between them not to pass unnoticed, but despite his requests for explanations, his attempts at understanding, not getting anything. After a few days, just ask Ginny stops, exhausted itself.
The situation seems unable to unlock, to move in any direction. Then, unexpectedly, the letter comes as James had expected.
The Irish team of Kenmare Kestrels communicates with the usual owl, which was released one in reserve and who are willing to give him a test: this is enough to enable him to find a new determination, an escape from the cage when he felt a prisoner. James reached their home in Ireland the day referred to without saying anything to his parents, leaving cover by Teddy, and only when the captain announced that he could not get better and that can be considered an official hunter education you decide to reserve inform them. Harry and Ginny are sitting in the kitchen for dinner, when James becomes a sure step and announced: "I was taken by the Kenmare Kestrels. I move to Ireland by the end of this week. "
His mother jumped up and fasten your arms around, laughing and congratulating cheerful, but his father James notes that all the time can not avoid to register as a relief to the expression in his face.

"Congratulations," he says, crossing his eyes perhaps for the first time in weeks. James forces a smile, returns the embrace of his mother and is surprised to discover that the lack of pride and satisfaction in the eyes of the father does not mean anything to him.


* The day before leaving the courage to stay at home, in her room, but not to take really sleep. In the middle of the night gets up, knowing that there is still something you must do before leaving.
He goes to the closet, therefore, opens the drawer in the bottom of which had angrily put the wooden box in a moment of transition to home and the door below, in front of the fireplace in the living room. The fire, lit by magic, blazing in an instant and the faintly lit room.
Slowly, photo after photo and crop after crop, James throws everything into the flames, staying for minutes to watch the leaves curl up on themselves, blacks and then become ashes, disappearing from his life.
Eventually, after what could easily have been hours, it's up to the wood box itself. The crackling of the flames almost hides the steps behind him, but not enough to make him jump when Harry calls him.
not turn, turn just to give the face a sign that he heard, but then again watching the fire.
"I'm sorry for how things went," says his father, sounding a little 'uncertain, James collects the shot and hugging his knees even closer.

"Me too," has finally come out after a while. He would like to add something, something which would put the situation right, to break even, but can not find anything that is able - probably because there is not.

Harry sighs, not daring to approach, and then resumes. "I hope it goes well in Ireland. I will come to watch the games. "

James nods and, glancing over his shoulder, replied: "See you there, then."
"Yes," said her father, then, silent as he came to leave the living room. The lack of man catches him right now, while they are still between the same walls; James keeps it close, he begins to learn about it because he knows that is something that will make the company a long time.
The next day, when you say goodbye in the yard, before James mountains on your broom and leave, unable to even hug briefly.

Lock Number For Vip Bags

[Original] The Lake House


Title: The Lake House


Fandom: Original


Beta:






namidayume


Prompt:

I want you to love me. I want you to love me because we are not dead. (Laurie Jupiter, Watchman)
@
Contest: Quotes from Watchman


Rating: Pg15


Word Count: 2683
(FDP)

Genre: Introspective
, Sentimental, Drama

Warnings:
sensitive issues that
I say this because there are spoilers of the ending. _.

Disclaimer: The characters in the story are mine, mine, mine. Any reference to existing people or real events is purely coincidental. Notes:
• Written for the contest Contest: Quotes from Watchman
on ' EFP Forum. \\ O / Board and the third to tie the winner of the Originality. ♥ • Err - the time the hated, now love him. In all of this because it is a thank Nami lovva and I was to hear more and more. XD ♥
The Lake House jeep pulled up at the beginning of the gravel driveway. From there, there were still several feet to walk before you reach the crossroads: the path to the left would lead to a promontory overlooking the lake, the route right at the house he was looking for.
He had visited many times, long ago, at the invitation of the parents of the Navy who went there on Sundays and holidays. That small, usually traveled with her hand in hand, listening to his crystal clear voice, she never forgot. got out and walked, and counts the steps that separated him from the crossroads, then turned right, without the slightest uncertainty. The gate of the house creaked when she opened it, and he instinctively thought that was supposed to clean it, oil it, weeding around them. We would have thought one of these days, or maybe next week, but would certainly so that the house could be as beautiful as his memories.
From wooden porch he could see perfectly smooth surface of the lake, its blue color, with the sun low in the late afternoon that there was reflected above. There was a driveway leading from the courtyard would take him right there - he was sure of going through that too, in the past - but now he did not care. Instead he opened the door and went in the large hall.
Marina, sitting on the couch, looked up at that moment. "You're back," he said smiling. Everything was exactly as he had left.
*
The last visit went back to the house five years ago: After had been boarded up and practically abandoned to itself. perfectly remembered the last time there was, the way in which the heat of the summer wind blew through the windows and curtains, the gentle grip of the hands of the Navy, benevolent faces of his parents. Remember, even the precise way in which she had greeted him in the evening, waving his hand sitting on that same couch.
"See you soon," he said.
Instead they had not seen any more. *

The idea of return could not say where he had had. Simply put, without realizing it, a day he found himself driving in that direction, and mile after mile, had arrived at the lake. Only when he had parked had understood what had happened.

From there to turn it into a routine it took very little. Marina received him smiling all the times seemed happy in his light-colored suit, never worried. Where possible, we try to see every week, driving to the house on Saturday afternoon - or even on Sundays, every now and then - and remains until sunset. Only when the sun set over the horizon and the mirror of his image disappeared from the lake, we decided to go home.
In some cases, However, commitments of various kinds prevented him and was able to visit them less often, or for less time. Marina did not seem to import, greeted him with the same happy attitude, kissing her lips in a way that reminded him of his youth and rose bushes that once grew in the same courtyard, and which were now all dead. His round face, a kid he was, just was veiled with sadness when he was forced to say goodbye. Not to leave, however, never asked him, as if really afraid that detachment: he suspected it was because he had the certainty that he would never have stopped going to find it. *


Teresa met in the most ordinary way: gave it to a friend that he hoped to awaken from the torpor in which, he said, had slipped some time. Somehow, she succeeded. He liked it, the enthusiasm, cheered him, and was simply a matter of weeks before they started dating.

Navy was to explain it, unexpectedly, almost easier: he knew even before he opened his mouth and him when he spoke, just nodded and look away - perhaps into the heart of the lake.

"I accept it," he replied, and he felt as if he had granted permission.


*


Asked about her will only put later, in the months that followed.
"What is your name?" He asked in a summer afternoon, usually sitting on the couch. The heat did not seem to have no effect on her, always composed and orderly. She stared at him until he answered carefully, and only then added: "He has a name that smacks of rain and wet earth, is not it?" Rise of embarrassment, perhaps with a hint of cruelty.

In December, just before Christmas, instead he asked: "Is she beautiful?"
again laughed and said instead: "It must be." There was nothing that resembled envy, in tone, but all led to the glacial jealousy.

While the courtyard was filled once again high and thorny weeds in May, said, "L'ami?"


Yes, he thought, but immediately corrected himself:
No, I love you
. Finally he shrugged his shoulders, as if it had not at all important. Marina seemed to be going so well.
*


Enter between those walls had something to do with the entrance into a limbo. There he broke off and the reality did not exist for him that the girl he had loved, even became a thought Teresa same pale, lying in the back of his mind, pushed aside because they do not take the place of Marina Marina was and always would be.

The years slipped away did not seem that simple moments in the house on the lake, and his life was marked by the visits, which always were close too each other. As the story became more serious with Teresa, Marina became more possessive, began to be in his thoughts every day, every night, every moment.

"You ought to get out of here," he said before he left, but he could negarglielo - he seemed to still have a will, despite everything.


*
Although it was winter, Marina was wearing one of his light-colored clothing and light, never did cold in that house, even to him, seemed to be always summer, although a cold wind blowing outside and the windows you could see the tree branches sway.

That day she seemed uneasy, nervous, wringing her hands clasped in her lap and looked into his eyes. When he finally did, seemed to have access to all his thoughts and he N'ebbe fear.

"Have you decided to marry her," he said, without inflection interrogative: was saying something he knew to be true.

It was, in fact. The Teresa had asked that morning, because part of him thought it was what he needed, that was exactly quell'ingranaggio missing that would then allowed his life to work. But what seemed far from the house on the lake right into it seemed incredibly wrong.

"Yes," was all he could replicate, in a barely audible puff of breath. Marina stared at him, not that he was able to clearly read the words he felt only un'indistinta concern arise from the pit of my stomach and get to shake your heart. Then she moved her eyes, stood up and reached the nearest window. It seemed that the wind had stepped out of that now somehow able to penetrate inside. Shoulders, Marina seemed too small and too fragile in his eighteen year old body, but his voice as he spoke, sounded anything but thin.

"I want to love me," he began. "I want to love me, because we're not both dead, and I want you to do it until your last breath. I want to be your one and I thought that there is no one else, no one

. "He paused and his tone became softer, almost hopeful. "Can you promise me?"

answered without thinking, because in truth, had they already made that promise long ago, otherwise there would still be there in the lake house. Now it was just point out the obvious, a voice to tell her that yes, would love her until the last heartbeat. "I promise you," he murmured.

Marina smiled and summer invaded the room again.


* The months passed quickly and the day before the wedding came in a flash. He went once more to the lake house, where she was waiting for him smiling as usual, not at all worried.
She hugged him, made him lie down beside him on the carpet in the middle of the living room and stroked his hair for hours, with its small and delicate hands, kissing cheeks. "Think of me when you come to the altar, right?" He asked in a whisper, shortly before he decided to leave.
"You know that this will happen," he said. Started to rise, then, for the first time but she stopped him. That night back in the real world much later than usual, when darkness had already fallen, and none of his friends, however, asked him where he was.

*


Sometimes, the brightness of Teresa seemed to be enough. He lived with this feeling for most of the honeymoon, enjoying life in Paris as if it were truly his own and as if the lake house was only one place in the past.

Then, at a street corner he seemed to see Marina and the weight of the feelings that are dragged behind came to be felt for years, coupled with the guilt that caused that happiness without her. Teresa noted, from that moment he stopped a moment's notice for each change.
*


"It is as beautiful as they say, France?"

The question lingered for several moments in the living room flooded with sunshine. Marina was distracted, not at all anxious to hear the answer, felt that he had spoken to inertia, because just watching him - as if it were important to his presence, but his thoughts. He was certain that she perceived her agitation, which clearly read his mood.

"You were there," she found herself saying, even before he realized he had opened his mouth. "You were there. How is it possible? "

Marina finally turns to look, in an attentive. It seemed that the application be incomprehensible, that would serve a further analysis to understand it perfectly. After what seemed long minutes, her lips bent in a sweet smile and replied: "I am everywhere you want, silly."

There was nothing he could add.


*
Teresa began to ask questions: what to keep him in mind, the Marina, the life they spent together, where to go when disappeared for hours. He sometimes did not respond, sometimes trying to be vague, bore his insistence trying not to expose themselves to keep her unaware of what he was doing.

It said it was to protect, not hurt, but the truth was that he was protecting himself, because Teresa meant to tell all to come to terms with reality and come out hopelessly defeated.

He tried to put a stop to the visits to the lake house for some time, to be closer to his wife and give her the normalcy that so much sought, stay away from the Navy, however, was never easy: the more if detach it physically, the more the thought of her became and remained stifling the urge to reach it or leave it further.
Whenever instinct grew louder and he could hardly restrain himself, Teresa noticed. He should imagine that he could not go on for so long.

*


There was nothing more strange to see that the Theresa along the dirt road, arriving at the fork, take the street on the right and open the gate with a bang the house creaking. The went behind quickly, trying to calm her, to give meaning to his screams, the thought that it had followed previously, to know where to go so well, just because it touched upon had very little importance. He dared not ask for an explanation, not even speak, because what was happening exactly as she had feared: the clash between the two worlds between which for years had divided.

Teresa's footsteps echoed on the wooden porch Finally, shortly before he opened the door and finds herself immersed in the afternoon light flooding the living room. To see it there, within those walls, so real and true, he made the whole room look different, let it be noted that had been gathering dust on the furniture, wiped out in just a few points - the ones that he, in his several visits , had touched -, the white sheets covering the seats, the carpet rolled up in a corner.
Teresa's voice, which boomed in the emptiness of the house, he confirmed everything that was feared, nothing would have been the same.
"This house is deserted

," he shouted, turning to him and spreading his arms. Feel so exasperated and desperate not like it at all, but he knew that to break his heart were the next words that she would have spoken. At the extreme confrontation with the reality could not have survived.

"There is all in your head," she continued, in fact. And again: "Marina is dead almost ten years ago, there's more! Keep coming back here is not the really back! "
His every word took off a piece to the fiction that, in all that time, he had built and had lived. Brought back those memories, the real ones: the night thinking he had greeted her again after just a couple of days, the news of the accident where the car his father had been involved, the expression against the doctor that, looking closely into his eyes, he told them that nothing more could be done. And the funeral, the pain, the way that Marina's mother had shaken hands and had recommended to go forward, be strong.
He clearly was not at all, and now I was paying the pledge.
Teresa
wiped her eyes and breathed deeply. His voice began to tremble. "I can not go on like this," he said, looking down, and pulled his faith. He covered the distance that separated them, the raised his hand and put the ring on his palm. "Come back to me when you're done you a reason and you will be left all this behind."

Then he crossed and slid through the door left open. He even turned to look at, but something told him that would be the last time he would see her.


*


He had no idea how long he remained there, sitting on the couch to turn over the dusty faith Teresa in her hands. He could not even indicate what he thought, what decisions had considered, simply, suddenly, looked up and she had appeared, as delicate and fragile all the time.
He wanted to go, she shut her eyes and counted to twenty, but when she reopened them she had not moved an inch. "You exist only in my head," he had said then. "Not true."
Marina showed no surprise. "I am not," agreed, approaching a couple of steps.

"I want you to go," he continued. Marina stepped forward yet.

I can not. This is not what you really want, " replicò, ancora imperturbabile. Poi sorrise, con la sua consueta dolcezza: «Ricordi? Hai promesso.»

Lo aveva fatto e non poteva fingere il contrario, non poteva mentire. Considerando chiusa la questione, Marina lo raggiunse. Gli sfilò di mano la fede di Teresa che ancora stringeva e, con uno sguardo curioso, la indossò. La sua risata cristallina, mentre ammirava l’anello sul proprio anulare, riempì la casa.

Lui comprese in quel momento che non c’era modo di tornare indietro.
*


Il fuoristrada non era il mezzo migliore per attraversare quella stradina sterrata. Sentiva le fronde degli alberi sbattere contro la carrozzeria, graffiarla, rompersi impact, the stones and dry leaves crunched under the wheels, accompanied meter by meter as the car gathered speed. Quick
, at the junction turn left along the last stretch with the accelerator fully depressed.

The jump lasted a moment and then there was only the splash caused by the surface of the lake affected by the vehicle and the water splashed everywhere, cracked windows and windscreens. Fast like sand in an hourglass, the cabin began to fill, by filtering each split while the car was sinking more and more.

Marina was at her side. He laughed, as if they had just taken a ride on the rides, and he could not help but join her. I want you to love me until your last breath , and had told him at that moment, that point of arrival finally seemed close, she was finally free.

He watched carefully and asked: "What now?"

The Navy's amused expression changed, becoming an affectionate smile. He moved his hand over his and shook it, as if to give courage. "Now you can stop."

His serene face was the last thing he saw.




two
Notes: • The banner, made by
Shurei
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