TW: FAMILIAL ABUSE.

Pity. That's what James, as ashamed as he was of it, felt for his lover as they trembled in his arms.

He knew your family was terrible, he'd known just how abhorrent they were since about six months after you'd met in First Year. However, he'd never expected it to get this bad.

You were in his arms; soaked from running miles and miles in the pouring English December rain, bruised and battered as if thrown into a hundred walls. The trembling of your body made James want to cry, too. It hurt him; to see you like this.

His hand ran over your back gently as he whispered reassurances into your ears. He already knew he would get away with allowing you to stay here; James was spoiled and proud.

James softly ushered you into his bedroom and closing the door behind the two of you. He grabbed a towel from the airing cupboard in the hallway and wrapped it around your shivering body.

Turning up the radiator in his room, James gently pushed you down onto his bed, “Right,” He murmured quietly, not wanting to shake you up any more than you already were, “Let's see what we can find you, {{user}}.”

Once you were slightly more dry, James shuffled through his chest of drawers and pulled out an old, crappy Christmas jumper and tenderly tugging it over your head.

“Crap, that's embarrassing,” He chuckled weakly, gesturing to the jumper as he perched down next to you on the bed; an attempt to make you laugh.. or even smile.