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remix_reduxTitle: From the day of James F. Potter (the things a man has got to do Remix)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lindsey_grrl
Summary: James fashions himself a pretty progressive lad, but there are some things that a man has to do.
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Harry Potter
Title, Author and URL of original story:xylodemon, ”From the Desk of James F. Potter"
notes:Beta-ed by kangeiko.
_
His never-dry quill dripped ink on the piece of parchment before him. The ink soaked through the parchment quickly, staining it thoroughly . James considered throwing this one out and exchanging it, but he had already done that five times already, and what good would it do other than waste another piece? He was in a foul enough mood without having to deal with explaining to her why all the parchment was missing.
Lily. Perfect Lily. Who never wasted things, whom didn’t stay out too late with her friends without an explanation, who never made their flat a complete mess just because Sirius was bored and in the neighborhood, who got the job of her dreams and just recently a new promotion, who…
Fuck, why did she have to make more money that him!
James wasn’t an old fashioned guy by any means – he considered himself quite progressive, in fact. Sure, he’d been a bit stunned after Lily had decided to ask him out, after declining his invitations for years, but no problem there.
And, of course, any bloke would be slightly surprised to find his female roommate did not wash/clean/cook, but that was what spells were for, right?
Except she didn’t know such spells, either, so James had to do it all himself. Which, again, was ok, since she worked longer hours than him. At a better job. In a more prestigious position.
And, as of yesterday, making more money than him.
Had his – minute, granted, but still ever present – subconscience not known that the parchment before him was soaking wet with ink and that he’d get a pretty nasty stain if he did so, he’d be hitting his head against the table right now.
Every thing was so right, so perfect, when he didn’t have to worry about such things. He had even been thinking of, maybe, who knows, proposing, some day, but now… The balance was just off. How could he ask a girl to marry him when she didn’t need him for anything? How could she ever even consider accepting such an invitation!
James sighed, picked up his wand, and waved it, vanishing the soggy parchment. With another wave, he summoned one from the drawer.
All right. Now all he had to think of were his many indisputable contributions to humanity as a whole.
The complete lack of though that followed in James’s mind was just quite as terrifying as the one when MacGonagal had asked him, the Christmas before last, just exactly what he was doing with a raccoon, a bottle of Firewhisky and enough pink paint to paint over Hogwarts twice, had been.
He shook himself.
There had – had – to he something.
James wrote down his name, in big letters at the top. A start, at least.
He paused. Breathed. Paused again. And then decided to start at the beginning of it all, and thing responsible for him to even know the redhead that made him feel it was necessary to move up in the capitalistic ladder: Hogwarts. Such a nice place.
{Education} Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry | Hogsmeade, Scotland | 1971-1978
It looked promising.
Then again, he really had no idea what one of those things were supposed to look like, so who knew?
James stared for a few minutes at the parchment.
Maybe what he had been up to after that was a good idea?
{Experience} | Quidditch Quality Supplies
Broom salesman.
Too dry, James thought. There had to be something else he could add to that. He did do something other than expulse obnoxious teenagers, of course. Even if was rather a handful to get rid of the pests, who thought it was fun the way he dreamily stared at Shop’s new acquisition, even thought he wouldn’t be able to pay for it with his whole year’s paycheck. And sure, hanging out with the eventual acquaintance who happened to pass by (or, in Sirius’s case, had nothing better to do all day long), did consume some time…
He thought of that time the owner had let him mess around a bit with the displays. The man had, sure, put them back in their places in a matter of minutes, not liking the way they ‘artistically’ fell on the floor every few minutes, but that had to count for something ,right?
He put that in, along with ‘assisting customers with purchases’, even if he hadn’t made that many sales – three, in fact. They tended to say James got a bit… over enthusiastic with the subject matter, which, on its own, tended to make little kids cry, big man throw punches, and woman slap him but that was something the nice people with the better paying job didn’t really need to know.
Of course, such inability to sell had gotten him ‘promoted’ to a job with less involvement with customers – which was to say he had been warned never to come within ten feet of one, on the treat of dismissal, and much less speak to one.
He put his new job in, too, embellishing it a bit with the fact that he had been once allowed to sign for a shipment, since his boss’s hands were, at the time, incapable of movement. Sure, that was due to the massive bandaging he had needed after a box full of Badgers has opened and released its contents on the store, breaking anything glass in a matter of seconds, but James still claimed he had nothing to do with it. Even if he, at the time, just happened to have a beaters bat already in hand, which had to do, somehow, with the heavy bandaging in his boss’s hands – he blamed crooked glasses for not being able to see his boss’s hand right next to the bludgers. James tried not to focus on that particular event.
Already with Quidditch on his mind, he figured it wouldn’t be bad to let them know he had been team member and captain. He refrained from putting the fact that they’d won the Cup, four out of five cups he’d played, under the title of awards – he put ‘Head-boy’ instead, thinking that would sound more distinguished and show he was reliable. Not that he had done thatmuch as a Head Boy, other than following orders, since Lily liked things done her way, and she also seemed to think she was the only one who could do things her way, but he had had to sit through an awful lot of boring meetings, and that had to pay off sometime.
Afterwards, James thought it’d be best to put some people in to back his word (since he was beginning to doubt it himself).
Dumbledore came to mind instantly, and so did McGonagall. He thought he was maybe pushing it a bit hard when he added Slughorn, but he figured out they wouldn’t go that far down the list – which he really hopped was true, as he added Sirius too, since his friend might be the best mate there is, but James doubted his credibility amongst the stiff, job-interviewer types. He described Sirius’s occupation as a ‘philanthropist’, one of those fancy words heard Remus had used to describe Sirius once when drunk. He hoped it meant what he thought it did, otherwise he’d have some things to explain later.
His incredible feats of incredibleness were running short, and his head was beginning to throb, so he decided to just put his O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s in, and be done with it.
He couldn’t help but hear Sirius’s voice making fun of him as he listed his History of Magic O.W.L., but he pointedly ignored it.
Just as he dotted the last sentence, he heard the faint knock indicated someone was at the door. He stood up, cracking his knuckles, certain that it was Sirius. He glanced apprehensively at his resume, wondering what his friend would say of it, but his distress was short lived, as though came to his mind.
It was just that, ever since a particular night, when he’d witnessed a very interesting sight. For a while now all their discussions had ended with James somehow managing to bring up the fact that Sirius had snogged Remus – that had been something to remember – which never failed to get Sirius red and sputtering and considerately quieter. Which was, or course, always a plus.
James placed his quill in its holder, stretched a bit again, and welcomed Sirius inside.
_
Author:
lindsey_grrlSummary: James fashions himself a pretty progressive lad, but there are some things that a man has to do.
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Harry Potter
Title, Author and URL of original story:
xylodemon, ”From the Desk of James F. Potter"notes:Beta-ed by kangeiko.
_
His never-dry quill dripped ink on the piece of parchment before him. The ink soaked through the parchment quickly, staining it thoroughly . James considered throwing this one out and exchanging it, but he had already done that five times already, and what good would it do other than waste another piece? He was in a foul enough mood without having to deal with explaining to her why all the parchment was missing.
Lily. Perfect Lily. Who never wasted things, whom didn’t stay out too late with her friends without an explanation, who never made their flat a complete mess just because Sirius was bored and in the neighborhood, who got the job of her dreams and just recently a new promotion, who…
Fuck, why did she have to make more money that him!
James wasn’t an old fashioned guy by any means – he considered himself quite progressive, in fact. Sure, he’d been a bit stunned after Lily had decided to ask him out, after declining his invitations for years, but no problem there.
And, of course, any bloke would be slightly surprised to find his female roommate did not wash/clean/cook, but that was what spells were for, right?
Except she didn’t know such spells, either, so James had to do it all himself. Which, again, was ok, since she worked longer hours than him. At a better job. In a more prestigious position.
And, as of yesterday, making more money than him.
Had his – minute, granted, but still ever present – subconscience not known that the parchment before him was soaking wet with ink and that he’d get a pretty nasty stain if he did so, he’d be hitting his head against the table right now.
Every thing was so right, so perfect, when he didn’t have to worry about such things. He had even been thinking of, maybe, who knows, proposing, some day, but now… The balance was just off. How could he ask a girl to marry him when she didn’t need him for anything? How could she ever even consider accepting such an invitation!
James sighed, picked up his wand, and waved it, vanishing the soggy parchment. With another wave, he summoned one from the drawer.
All right. Now all he had to think of were his many indisputable contributions to humanity as a whole.
The complete lack of though that followed in James’s mind was just quite as terrifying as the one when MacGonagal had asked him, the Christmas before last, just exactly what he was doing with a raccoon, a bottle of Firewhisky and enough pink paint to paint over Hogwarts twice, had been.
He shook himself.
There had – had – to he something.
James wrote down his name, in big letters at the top. A start, at least.
He paused. Breathed. Paused again. And then decided to start at the beginning of it all, and thing responsible for him to even know the redhead that made him feel it was necessary to move up in the capitalistic ladder: Hogwarts. Such a nice place.
{Education} Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry | Hogsmeade, Scotland | 1971-1978
It looked promising.
Then again, he really had no idea what one of those things were supposed to look like, so who knew?
James stared for a few minutes at the parchment.
Maybe what he had been up to after that was a good idea?
{Experience} | Quidditch Quality Supplies
Broom salesman.
Too dry, James thought. There had to be something else he could add to that. He did do something other than expulse obnoxious teenagers, of course. Even if was rather a handful to get rid of the pests, who thought it was fun the way he dreamily stared at Shop’s new acquisition, even thought he wouldn’t be able to pay for it with his whole year’s paycheck. And sure, hanging out with the eventual acquaintance who happened to pass by (or, in Sirius’s case, had nothing better to do all day long), did consume some time…
He thought of that time the owner had let him mess around a bit with the displays. The man had, sure, put them back in their places in a matter of minutes, not liking the way they ‘artistically’ fell on the floor every few minutes, but that had to count for something ,right?
He put that in, along with ‘assisting customers with purchases’, even if he hadn’t made that many sales – three, in fact. They tended to say James got a bit… over enthusiastic with the subject matter, which, on its own, tended to make little kids cry, big man throw punches, and woman slap him but that was something the nice people with the better paying job didn’t really need to know.
Of course, such inability to sell had gotten him ‘promoted’ to a job with less involvement with customers – which was to say he had been warned never to come within ten feet of one, on the treat of dismissal, and much less speak to one.
He put his new job in, too, embellishing it a bit with the fact that he had been once allowed to sign for a shipment, since his boss’s hands were, at the time, incapable of movement. Sure, that was due to the massive bandaging he had needed after a box full of Badgers has opened and released its contents on the store, breaking anything glass in a matter of seconds, but James still claimed he had nothing to do with it. Even if he, at the time, just happened to have a beaters bat already in hand, which had to do, somehow, with the heavy bandaging in his boss’s hands – he blamed crooked glasses for not being able to see his boss’s hand right next to the bludgers. James tried not to focus on that particular event.
Already with Quidditch on his mind, he figured it wouldn’t be bad to let them know he had been team member and captain. He refrained from putting the fact that they’d won the Cup, four out of five cups he’d played, under the title of awards – he put ‘Head-boy’ instead, thinking that would sound more distinguished and show he was reliable. Not that he had done thatmuch as a Head Boy, other than following orders, since Lily liked things done her way, and she also seemed to think she was the only one who could do things her way, but he had had to sit through an awful lot of boring meetings, and that had to pay off sometime.
Afterwards, James thought it’d be best to put some people in to back his word (since he was beginning to doubt it himself).
Dumbledore came to mind instantly, and so did McGonagall. He thought he was maybe pushing it a bit hard when he added Slughorn, but he figured out they wouldn’t go that far down the list – which he really hopped was true, as he added Sirius too, since his friend might be the best mate there is, but James doubted his credibility amongst the stiff, job-interviewer types. He described Sirius’s occupation as a ‘philanthropist’, one of those fancy words heard Remus had used to describe Sirius once when drunk. He hoped it meant what he thought it did, otherwise he’d have some things to explain later.
His incredible feats of incredibleness were running short, and his head was beginning to throb, so he decided to just put his O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s in, and be done with it.
He couldn’t help but hear Sirius’s voice making fun of him as he listed his History of Magic O.W.L., but he pointedly ignored it.
Just as he dotted the last sentence, he heard the faint knock indicated someone was at the door. He stood up, cracking his knuckles, certain that it was Sirius. He glanced apprehensively at his resume, wondering what his friend would say of it, but his distress was short lived, as though came to his mind.
It was just that, ever since a particular night, when he’d witnessed a very interesting sight. For a while now all their discussions had ended with James somehow managing to bring up the fact that Sirius had snogged Remus – that had been something to remember – which never failed to get Sirius red and sputtering and considerately quieter. Which was, or course, always a plus.
James placed his quill in its holder, stretched a bit again, and welcomed Sirius inside.
_
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-23 04:40 am (UTC)Thank you so much!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-26 06:22 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-23 09:19 am (UTC)This was lots of fun! Poor 1970s man, proud of his girlfriend, yet a little uncomfortable at the heart of things.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-29 07:05 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-23 04:59 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-29 07:09 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-24 07:04 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-29 07:09 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-26 03:43 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-29 07:09 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-28 12:47 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-29 07:10 pm (UTC)Thank you!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-29 02:52 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-04-29 07:11 pm (UTC)