Chapter 5
The soft hum of the morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the Gryffindor dormitory. James lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The familiar chatter of Sirius and Peter waking up and preparing for the day barely registered in his mind. His body felt heavy, like it was dragging him through the motions, but his mind was elsewhere—somewhere far away.
He had barely slept the night before. The numbness lingered, like a shadow that refused to leave. The high from the weed had faded long ago, leaving behind a hollow, gnawing emptiness in his chest. It was the kind of emptiness that made the days feel like a blur, like he was moving through a world that wasn’t quite his own.
"Oi, Prongs, you alive in there?" Sirius’s voice broke through the haze, and James blinked, realizing the day had already started. Sirius was standing by his bed, holding a broomstick over his shoulder, ready for a morning practice session before classes started.
James didn’t answer right away. His thoughts were still tangled, fighting for clarity. He couldn’t bring himself to be his usual enthusiastic self—not today, not right now.
"Yeah, I’m up," James mumbled, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He sat up, pushing the covers off, the cold air of the room making him shiver slightly. It was hard to focus on anything. His usual routine felt mechanical, like something he had to do, not something he wanted to.
Sirius eyed him closely, a slight furrow between his brows. He knew something was off, but as always, he didn’t press. Instead, he ruffled James’s hair, a small attempt at lightening the mood. "You sure you’re good? You look like you’re half-dead."
James chuckled weakly, getting to his feet. "Just tired. No big deal."
"Right," Sirius said, unconvinced but choosing to let it go for now. "We’ll have fun later. Let’s go get some breakfast before the mad rush."
James nodded, following Sirius out of the room. The others were already downstairs, Peter hunched over his notes in a corner, trying to make sense of something from Transfiguration, while Remus sat at the table, reading his book.
Sirius took the seat across from Remus, as usual, while James slid into his spot. He didn’t make a big show of it, didn’t attempt to engage in their usual banter. The numbness from the night before hadn’t faded, and all he could think about was how tired he was of pretending.
"Morning," Remus greeted, his tone steady, eyes flickering briefly to James, as if sensing something was different. Remus always had a way of noticing the small things, but he didn’t ask any questions. It was as if he knew James needed space, and in that moment, James was grateful for it.
Sirius cracked a joke, and Peter laughed, but James just pushed his food around his plate, barely tasting it. He didn’t feel like participating in the conversation, didn’t feel like being anything other than numb. The weight of his thoughts hung over him, suffocating in its quiet intensity.
After breakfast, they made their way to class. James tried to focus, to listen, but his thoughts kept drifting. His hands felt clammy, and the unease in his chest never seemed to go away. He didn’t want to talk about it. Didn’t want anyone to ask.
The day passed in a blur of lectures, snatches of conversation, and the quiet hum of life moving around him. His friends didn’t seem to notice the cracks in his façade—at least, they didn’t say anything. But the longer the day dragged on, the more the sense of isolation grew inside him. His mind kept spiraling, and the mask he wore became heavier.
By the time Quidditch practice came around, James was ready to shut off completely. As captain, he had to be on top of everything, directing plays, calling out instructions, making sure the team was sharp. But the pressure of it all felt like too much. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to do any of it.
Sirius noticed as soon as they hit the field. "You alright, Prongs? You’ve barely said anything all practice," he said, hovering nearby, broom in hand.
James shot him a glance, feeling the familiar exhaustion creep in. "I’m fine. Just... tired."
Sirius didn’t push, but he didn’t buy it either. James wasn’t acting like himself. But practice had to go on, and they were too close to a big match to let it slip. James put on his captain face and led the team through the drills, but his heart wasn’t in it. His movements were automatic, as if his body was going through the motions while his mind was somewhere else.
When practice finally ended, everyone was sweating and laughing, their usual camaraderie in full force. But James just wanted to get out of there.
He excused himself quickly, heading back to the common room without so much as a word to anyone. His friends didn’t notice. They were all too wrapped up in the after-practice buzz.
James went straight to the dormitory, slipping into his room and closing the door behind him. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to think.
Remus was the only one who followed. He always was. He wasn’t one to push, but James could feel his gaze linger on him as he entered.
"You sure you’re alright?" Remus asked, his voice soft and measured. He hadn’t asked before, not like this, but something in his tone told James that he was paying attention. Too much attention.
James didn’t answer at first, his hand reaching for the small stash he kept in his drawer. He had to dull the noise in his head. He had to do something.
"I’m fine," James finally said, his voice flat, his eyes downcast as he pulled out the pipe.
Remus didn’t press further, but he didn’t look away either. James could feel the weight of his gaze, the quiet understanding that hung in the air between them.
As James lit the pipe, the familiar smoke filled his lungs, the dull warmth spreading through him. It didn’t solve anything, but it quieted the constant buzz in his mind. He inhaled deeply, the smoke swirling in his chest, but even that didn’t bring the relief he so desperately needed.
Without a word, Remus moved over to his own bed, picking up a book. But the quiet tension remained. It always did when James was like this.
James sat there for a long time, lost in the fog of his thoughts, the numbness still hanging over him. And as the night wore on, he couldn’t shake the feeling that no matter what he did, he would never feel truly whole again.