Chapter 4
His mother's funeral wasn’t a place he had any desire to return to, fury made the boy burn bright, hot to the touch as molten lave replaced the blood in his veins. He didn’t understand why Regulus wouldn’t give him what he wanted. He had never asked for anything, he had been kind, he had waited, he had sacrificed so much just to love him, but now? Nothing, he was given nothing in return and was left to clean up the mess himself.
If Regulus wouldn’t give it to him, he’d find someone who will. Once James got an idea locked in his mind, it was difficult to convince him of otherwise. He wouldn’t give up so easily, not when he no longer had anything to lose.
So no, James Potter did not go home that night. He did not return to the funeral, or get into the car with the man that loved him most in the world. He took nothing with him, but his mother’s recipe cards (which he carried around everywhere with him now, it was the one thing he would never let go of, he would have to be dead for anyone to take it away from him. Even then, he had them committed to memory.), his mother’s glasses (which he had swapped out for his own. Which created a greater issue since James was practically blind to begin with and his mother’s eyesight was a great deal better than his own. He spent most of the walk tripping over roots and rocks. It took a tree nearly taking him out to finally put his own glasses back on.) his wedding ring, and the clothes on his back.
James Potter did not return to his lover that night, instead, he decided to do the only thing he really knew how to do, the one thing he wouldn’t be able to screw up.
James ran.
He ran until the snow had seeped into his boots, soaking his socks and stealing all the warmth from his skin. He ran until his knees felt weak and his legs wobbled like jelly. He ran until the cold winter air that whipped at every piece of exposed skin became more of a whisper against rosy cheeks. He ran until his heart froze over.
James Potter ran until the salty tears froze to his face and his breath stung so much that he believed he may die.
He wasn’t sure how long he had run for, a few minutes, an hour, three, he had no idea. All he could count on was the erratic thump of his heart as it slammed against his chest like a hammer. It felt like every part of him was breaking, it was decaying as he ran, and he thought if he kept running then maybe he could just disappear into the darkness.
All he knew was that by this point the sun had even left him too, leaving him to fend for himself against the silver halo rays of the moon. The stars were the only thing he loved anymore, and even now he knew they would eventually grow tired of him.
James had nothing left to give, he had exhausted every bit of energy he once had, letting it all burn up into nothing. His body was so weak and defeated that he was sure if he ran any further his lungs would burst and he would die. He wanted that, didn’t he? But who was James Potter if not the faithful hero that would protect everyone from harm? Who was he without the warmth in his heart and the kindness in his eyes. Who was James Potter if not this mother's son.
He let himself sink into the snow, knees slamming into the frozen ground, coughing and spluttering as angry hot tears melted away his frozen state. He thought he would be far enough in the woods for no one to be able to hear him cry, to hear him yell, and scream, and curse the world. He had done everything right, he was a good kid, he loved with his entire being, and he helped whoever needed it. He never argued, he always did as he was told, and he was a good person. He knew he was, so why did bad things have to happen to him? His sobs were explosive, bursting out of him, his frame shook with each ear-piercing scream.
He slammed his fist into the frozen ground, “I trusted you! How could you take her away from me!” He screamed, with each sentence his hits got harder and the snow was beginning to dye crimson under his force.
“You could have had anyone else, ANYONE! But you had to take my mother! I hate you, I hate you! I—” He broke down into sobs once more, curling in on himself. If he was to die tonight, let him be taken by the cold, how could he live in a world without Euphemia Potter? He had no idea who he was yelling at, who he wanted to suffer, who deserved to. He knew someone had murdered his mother in cold blood, someone had taken her away a great deal too early. Someone had torn his entire family apart in just a few hours. And if James couldn’t beat them from the outside, then he would become one.
James had exhausted himself fully, falling into the snow.
He blinked brimming tears from his eyes, tears that froze to his cheeks before he even got a chance to wipe them away. He stared up at the sky, there were no stars tonight. Just like he had suspected, James knew they would leave. It was only a matter of time. Large flakes of snow floated through the night, if he was lucky, he would be buried like the rest of the earth’s secrets.
He was so exhausted that he didn’t care if he lives or dies anymore, he didn’t care about anything.
For the first time in his entire life, James Potter felt nothing at all.