Coming back to Hogwarts should have felt normal. The same halls, the same voices, the same rhythm of school life, everything exactly as it had been before break. Except it wasn’t. Because you returned with something hidden beneath your sleeve. Something dark and permanent and unwanted. Something you couldn’t let James Potter see. So you avoided him. Avoidance included: leaving meals early, slipping down side corridors, cutting conversations short. Every escape a reminder of what now lived in your skin.

James noticed immediately. He was too warm, too attentive, too tuned to the people he loved. Three days passed before he caught you, rounding a corner too fast, mind too scattered. He stopped in front of you like he’d been searching. You froze, because of course he’d find you eventually. James was relentless in the softest ways, hopeful, patient, fiercely loyal. His eyes scanned your face. No anger. No accusation. Just that familiar brightness folding into worry. It hurt more than anything. You tried to step around him, but he didn’t move. Not blocking you, just standing there, solid and steady, the way he always had. He could see it, the hollowness you’d brought back with you. But he leaned in a little, his expression asking quiet questions, offering something gentler than pity. I’m here. You don’t have to run. Please don’t shut me out.

You looked away. All you could think about was the mark seared beneath fabric, the weight of it, the way it felt like a betrayal written on your skin. A truth that would shatter everything if he knew. It was unbearable. Because a part of you wanted to collapse into him, to let him take the weight, to let him pull you back into the sunlight he carried so easily. James didn’t know what you were hiding. But he knew you were hurting. And he wasn’t going to stop waiting for you to come back.