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Entry tags:

frank

Who: James Potter, Frank Longbottom and their special new friend
What: Ohherrss scary stuff guys, scary stuff
Where: Still unknown
When: Today (December 30, 1977)

“Tsk, look at your wrists; that must have hurt, I’ll have to punish him.”

James couldn’t stop his body from shivering as Lord Voldemort held his hand, examining the slashes around his wrists from the torture earlier that week. Tears poured down his face and his teeth chattered as he watched the cuts slowly close and heal, the dried blood disappearing. He shouldn’t be crying, his injuries were being healed, but James just couldn’t stop himself.

Lord Voldemort looked up from his hands, something like a sympathetic look on his face. With the hand with the wand he touched the side of James’ face, causing the boy to let out a startled yelp.

“James, James…it’ll be all right, you’re just going through your punishments…everything will be okay soon, I promise.”

The Dark Lord let go of his hands and James fell to his knees, slumping against the wall next to Frank, who’d been healed first. Voldemort waved his wand and cleared the blood that had slipped onto his fingers and looked down at the boys, “You both play Quidditch, correct?”

Frank made no way to respond, and didn’t move his head from its slumped position. Quidditch, ha. What was that, again? He could hardly remember, let alone be able to remember the feeling of wind on his face. Quidditch, Quidditch. Who cared about Quidditch when all they had now was Voldemort to heal them, and the darkness? Those two things seemed comfortably familiar- and why stray away from the feeling at ease?

It was strange, that was all he had been thinking about lately. Voldemort, Voldemort healing them, and the torturing- but in the end, he would heal them. He would make it all go away. And for that hour or so, his stomach didn’t hurt, his chest didn’t feel like it was going to collapse and he stopped shaking, becoming warm. He was warm now. Was it wrong that a part of him actually enjoyed this feeling? No, he didn't think so. All Frank knew was that it felt good and he could feel his fingers again. No matter how much his face contorted when Voldemort touched him, it was gone for now.

Slowly, his gaze rose from the ground and lowly murmured "Yes, we did."

James wiped at his eyes (after taking off his new glasses, how amazing was that, that he could see correctly again?) and looked up at Voldemort, wondering for a second if he really cared about Quidditch or if it was just a ploy…but Frank answered his question before he could think about it anymore Yes, they did play Quidditch. Probably never would again, but they had, once. They’d been a good team.

Voldemort nodded slightly and looked over James. “And you were captain?”

“Yes,” James answered immediately and winced at the grin Voldemort sent him. “We---we won our first match.” Why he felt compelled to tell the Dark Lord this fact, he had no idea, but James continued to stare up at him.

“You beat Slytherin, though, so for that you must be punished. But only for a little, it’s for your own good.”

With a flick of his wand Voldemort put the two boys under cruciatus again, shaking his head softly.

He didn’t even have to time think that he hadn’t played in that game, let alone say it out loud. Before Frank knew it, his head had jammed back into the wall as it felt like his spine was breaking and his whole body had been set on fire. And it didn’t take time for him to slide down the wall onto the ground, writhing in the spot. But, he tried not to scream too loudly.

And then, it was over. Just as quickly as it had come, it was over and Frank found himself flat on his back on the floor, panting heavily. Unable to find his voice just yet, he responded with nothing.

Voldemort smiled at the two boys that were now lying on their backs. “There, there. Think about that the next time you want to beat my House.”

James clenched his teeth; he’d been close to apologizing for the win, but had stopped himself. That was wrong wasn’t it---he shouldn’t have to apologize for a bloody game. He took in some deep breaths, trying to glare at the Dark Lord but just couldn’t force himself.

“It is okay to eat the food,” Voldemort said, taking a few steps back from then, “I would not poison my boys, you can trust that. Eat. And sleep, boys need their sleep to be strong, and you want to be strong, don’t you?”

With a slight swish of his robes, Lord Voldemort was gone, and James finally let out a breath, not moving from his position on the floor. He couldn’t see the ceiling as Claire’s light wasn’t that strong, but he stared up at it anyway. Some popping noises indicated that new plates of food had appeared, and he was quite suddenly ravenous, yet he couldn’t push himself up.

Strong, strong? Frank certainly didn’t feel strong. He felt weak, pathetic- worthless. So worthless that he couldn’t find it within himself to even look up at the Dark Lord when he talked to them. Was that wrong? He felt wrong for openly trying to not make any effort to show any respect whatsoever.

And then, he was gone- just as soon as he had appeared. Again, Frank made no effort to move or acknowledge anything that had just happened. He just stared upward at the ceiling. It was nice, like that. And as he was thinking, only one thing kept coming up in his mind. It took Frank a few tries, but finally he prattled off “Is he coming back in a week?”

James nodded, even though he wasn’t sure how he knew this. Maybe he just trusted that the Dark Lord would keep his promises; hell, he had no reason not to, right? He wanted them to stay alive, and they couldn’t unless he returned. James didn’t bother questioning why he knew the Dark Lord wanted them alive, but he…trusted him.

He let out a cough, twisting a bit as sleep was finally taking over his body. James yawned and stretched out, rolling away from Frank. “Yeah, hope----I think so.”

“Me too.” And finally the room went silent for a very, very long time.

* * * * *

He opened his eyes and jerked up, panting. The Gryffindor common room. He was…he was in the Gryffindor common room! Oh, oh! James jumped to his feet and looked down at the couch he’d just been sitting on; yes! Yes, yes yes yes! It had all been a horrible, horrible dream! Oh, how amazing, how perfectly amazing was this? He’d never, ever, ever doubt the Aurors again, he was going to fight so hard alongside Dumbledore and---

James’ head snapped toward a clicking noise and his grin widened as he saw the door to Lily’s room open. Oh, he was going to give her the biggest kiss ever and tell her that he loved her again because even if she didn’t love him, he had to let her know how much he cared and—

It wasn’t Lily that had come out of the room. Sirius stumbled out instead, looking quite disheveled and pleased. His shirt was open and untucked, and when Sirius looked up at him, he grinned.

“You never told me how good of a shag Evans was, mate.”

“R-Remus?” James asked weakly and Sirius scoffed.

“Did you really think I was a fucking pouf? I sent that mudblood of a werewolf to Azkaban for endangerment the second I was through.” Sirius let out a bark of a laugh, combing his hand through his hair, “And then Peter got caught in a mouse-trap the other day, oh, bloody hell, it was hilarious. Killed the bastard in less than a second, good fucking riddance.”

James’ mouth had dropped open and he felt like his jaw had slammed against the floor. He was about to yell at his friend for being in Lily’s room when Lily herself came out of the room, ignoring James’ presence and slipping her hands up Sirius’ chest from behind him.

“Sirius, come back to bed, hmm?”

“What the fuck’s going on!” James roared, storming toward the pair, ready to knock his supposed best friend’s head off. This was insane, they couldn’t have just forgotten about him and gone on with their lives! This---this couldn’t be their lives! Lily’s head popped out from around Sirius and her eyebrows quirked up.

“What are you doing here, Potter?” she spat, coming forward with her hands on her hips. James faltered slightly; she hadn’t used that tone with him in a long, long time. “Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”

James’ mouth gaped like a fish out of water for a few seconds, looking back and forth between the two. Then, a cackle of a laugh escaped his lips.

“Oy, I’m dreaming. Bad, bad dream.”

Lily scoffed and strode toward him (he hadn’t noticed that she was wearing some very high red heels; what kind of fucked up dream was this, anyway?). She jabbed him in the middle of his chest and James let out a yelp. Hell, that had hurt! Dreams weren’t supposed to hurt! Panic arose in him as Lily continued to poke him, sending him backpedaling into the middle of the common room.

“Dreaming? Dreaming? You’re the one that disappeared and left me all alone, and you’re yelling at me?” Lily shrieked, pressing both hands against his chest and pushing him to the ground. James fell hard on his back and stared up at Lily with wide eyes, unsure of how a dream was able to hurt so bad.

“You told me you’d never leave me!” Lily yelled, and she stomped her foot down on his chest, hard. James let out a loud yell as the heel of her shoe pierced the skin, right above his heart. He watched with wide, horrified eyes as Lily leaned forward with a maliciously wicked grin; her red hair seemed darker and her green eyes were menacing.

“You’re so bloody weak, Potter, no wonder I’m not in love with you.”

The words pierced his heart as the heel of her shoe literally did the same. James’ body shook as white flashes flew across his eyes he saw Sirius wrap up Lily in a tight hug, kissing her deeply. James reached out for them and shut his eyes for a second, and when he opened them, he was in a cemetery, tombstones popping out of the ground all around him.

He was on his feet as if automatically, and James stared down at his chest, where blood was still spewing from the hole in his heart. The sound of crying snapped his head up and he let out a scream. There was his mother, cowering down underneath a tree as his father beat down on her, screaming, yelling, hitting her so, so hard.

“STOP!” James screamed, running toward them, “STOP IT! STOP! STOP!” but, he didn’t seem to get any closer and James felt a strong tug on his shirt. He turned and saw Dumbledore holding onto the back of his shirt, shaking his head.

“You can’t help her, James, she’s gone,” said the headmaster in a harsh tone James had never heard from him.

“SHE’S RIGHT THERE I CAN HELP!” James roared, tugging hard against Dumbledore’s grip. But---his parents were gone, they were gone and James fell to the ground, hard. He grimaced and flipped onto his back, glaring up at Dumbledore, “You stopped me from helping her!”

Dumbledore shook his head, scowling down at him.

“You killed her a long time ago, James, it was your fault she died.” James felt hot tears sting his eyes and he shook his head frantically, but Dumbledore didn’t seem to notice.

“If your mother hadn’t had you, she could’ve taken a potion that would have cured her illness, but no, she wanted a baby.” Dumbledore smirked greatly and shook his head. “Look at you---such a disappointment you are, your mother died for no reason, you are worthless, you killed her.”

“Stop! No I didn’t! I didn’t!” James cried, grabbing at his hair to try and stop his head from shaking, “I didn’t, I didn’t, I didn’t mean to, oh—oh God, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

The hole in his chest grew with each word and soon the pain was shooting throughout his entire body and James fell back, except he didn’t fall into the grass. He continued to fall as if he’d dropped into a black hole and he fell and fell until he hit the ground with a jerk.

James sat up straight and looked around. The room, he was still in the room. Covered in sweat, he sat back against the wall, watching the candle light flicker. He didn’t dare look at where Frank lay; he didn’t look at much of anything.

* * * * *

It was warm, he felt so warm. Warm, relaxed, pain free and comfortable. It felt like the feeling you would get after getting a good night’s sleep and waking up to the sun pouring on your face, gently nudging you to wake up. Or, that feeling he would always get when waking up to Alice buried into his chest, still sleeping peacefully like so many times before during last year. Alice- ah. Frank felt something to the effect of a light breeze brush up against his face, and shyly his eyes peeped open. Wha- wha-. Suddenly, he sat straight up in his bed. His bed. He was home- home- this whole time? Everything had been- he was- grinning so widely that it felt like his jaw would snap off, Frank jumped out of his bed onto the warm wooden floor. Oh, wonderful floor. This was- Frank couldn’t- Ah! He glanced to the bottom of his arms, and a few seconds later, a mirthful laugh filled the room. There was nothing there! Just skin, regular skin. It was- this had all been- this whole experience- nothing at all.

Frank bounded toward the door, and it swung open with ease. Ah it was still the summer, which meant- he raced down the hallway, knowing exactly what door to open, and exactly which person who he was going to wake up. But, that all didn’t matter to him if Derrick bit his head off for waking him up. Frank would just be so happy to know that-

“Get your bloody hand away from my doorknob.”

How had- he hadn’t even- perplexed, Frank spun around on his heels to face- hell. Standing just a few feet in front of him was (Frank felt his stomach churn and his face turn hot, then cold) his brother, but not…his brother. Derrick had never- the marks on his body, and he was so white (just as white as Frank was feeling at this point) and the way he looked made Frank want to turn away. No, no this couldn’t be happening, this just couldn’t be happening. It was all a dream and-

“Who do you think you are, yeah? Sleeping so peacefully all the time, and going on with your life like everything is all fine and dandy? Acting like nothing has happened. You know, that’s just like you Frank, so oblivious to the world.” Frank knew Derrick didn’t mean any of this, they were brothers, surely he knew how the ramifications of that day effected his little brother, surely, surely. Yet, Frank still felt his body begin to shake.

Derrick looked upon Frank with loathing eyes. “You couldn’t just stay behind that bloody bench, could you? We would have been fine, but no, you think you have to be chivalrously stupid and run out after some vague image of your girlfriend.” The older brother laughed, and it echoed through the hall into the ceiling. Frank cringed, knowing that would stay with him for a long while. This couldn’t be happening, it just simply couldn’t be happening…

“You know, I should have just let you run. Why the fuck should I care about you? Some Gryffindor, that isn’t even my real brother. But-” at this point, Derrick had on his face a sick grin, “that’s what I get for following family. I get massacred by accident by my own friend.” Derrick laughed again, and Frank felt his shoulders begin to shake.

No, no

“You got him killed too, didn’t you Frank? Man, what is your bloody problem anyway? And here’s Mum thinking she raised you well.” Silence fell between them, save the heavy huffs Frank was trying to hold back. Finally, Derrick glided closer to him and managed to whisper in his ear, “It’s your entire fault, you know.”

“No!” Frank finally choked out, falling back a few steps.

“When are you going to face it and come to reality Frank! It’s your fault I died, it’s your fault Alan’s dead. You didn’t even give him a bloody chance. Just like how you didn’t even give Alice a chance. She was concerned Frank, and all you did was yell and rant at her, to the point where you made another stupid mistake to break up with her. Ha! And you had thought it would be for the best.” Now, Frank could hardly get a good image of Derrick as his vision blurred and kept on taking slow steps backward. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s hooking up with some bloke right now- why the fuck should she care about you? No one really ever cares about anyone. Come now Frank, even I taught you that.”

“No, no-” Frank tried to sputter out, but merely shook his head from side to side. It wasn’t his fault, it couldn’t be. But, but- the only thing that had reassured Frank for months was that Derrick wouldn’t have blamed him for his death, for not going to his funeral. Now, now- everything was mounting up and it did all fit together. He shook his head more vigorously, bringing his hands up to his hair.

“Ben doesn’t care anymore Frank! Haven’t you noticed that! He could really care less about anything about you. What are you going to do now? You have no friends- Emmeline is going to leave you soon, too. She cared about Ben too much, that was the real reason she put up with you!” Derrick’s voice increasingly got louder by the word.

“No, no…”

“Is that all you can say? No wonder everyone thinks you’re such a retard. Regular people can pronounce words. Here, repeat after me: ‘Everything is my entire fault.’ Come now, Frank, only five words. I know you have it in you to say it.”

“I’m- I’m-”

“I’m, I’m” Derrick repeated in a mocking manner, voice higher than usual. “Merlin Frank, get a grip. Come on now, everything will go away and you’ll feel all better inside once you admit it.”

He didn’t want to say it, he knew it wasn’t true. No, no- this wasn’t all true. Yet, somehow, he felt his lips begin to move and his eyes instantly shut tight to stop the burning feeling. “Every- every- my-”

“Completely worthless. Completely worthless, you know that Frank? Good luck with succeeding in life. If you ever make it past eighteen.” Unexpectedly, Frank felt the rush of ice cold water pouring through his chest and he let out a gasp, eyes finally opening wide.

Frank woke with a start, choking as he sat up. Just a dream- it was just a dream? A nightmare? In spite of everything, he let out a small sigh. Who would have thought he would have ever found refuge in this damn room with its dark walls and Claire’s annoying flickering light now and then. “Just a dream,” he whispered, putting his palm to his forehead.

“Afraid not, Frankie. Tick, tock, how much longer is it going to take for you to get a grip on reality? Did you really think you had the capacity to think all of that up?” Derrick’s voice bounced against the walls, and Frank struggled to slip and slide away from the form of his dead brother. His ghost- ghost- here-, here, it was here, which meant- it wasn’t a dream and this- this was all-

“You- you can- can’t-”

“I can’t be real? Oh, rest assured Frank, I’m more than real. It’s just too bad you didn’t listen to a word I had just said ---- Merlin, no wonder Dumbledore gave you up to the Dark Lord so willingly.” Derrick’s body illuminated so brightly, Frank could even see the corners of the room with his glazed over eyes.

Dumbledore?

“That’s right Frankie. Your bloody savior gave you up. Surely you didn’t think all this time that he has no clue where you and James are? Please.” Again, his brother’s cackle bounced off the walls and Frank kicked harder in a desperate attempt to just melt into the wall.

“N-n-o.”

“That’s right, he gave you up. Just like how Ben did, and Alice did,” Derrick sneered. “Good to know that they finally have a clue and are taking a leaf out of my book. Aw, is my baby brother crying?”

“St-st-sto-p-stop, stop!” And with that, Frank clamped his eyes shut and kept them that way, truly afraid that his brother would terrorize him even more. There was no escape- there was just no escape.



Who: Joseph Woodful, Vladimir Octavio, James Potter, and Frank Longbottom
What: :O!
Where: Paris, France; Death Eater holding house
When: Janurary 11, 1978 (middle of the night)


Joseph Woodful and Vladimir Octavio never really understood what the big deal about guarding the hostages was. The two teens were basically dead from exhaustion, had no wands, and could barely lift themselves up when the other Death Eaters came for a little fun. It was rather boring, sitting in the parlour of the old Victorian house that housed the two this past month, and the two had started a game of cards when they heard screaming from the room.

“Your turn,” Vladimir grumbled. Joseph growled but pushed his chair back and stormed out of the parlour, past the front door and stomped up the steps to the room. He paused at the top of the steps to listen to the screaming. What the fuck could be going on in there? No one else was supposed to be here besides him and Vladimir at the moment.

“HE’S DEAD! HELP HIM, SOME BODY PLEASE!” one of the boys screamed from the other side of the door. Joseph frowned and with a flick of his wand the door unlocked and he entered, peering inside.

The smaller boy was in front of him immediately, tears pouring out of his eyes,

“You’ve got to help Frank, he’s dead, oh, oh God, he’s dead--- HELP HIM! HE CAN’T BE DEAD!” The boy grabbed onto the sleeve of Joseph robes in desperation but Joseph shoved him off quickly, sending him to the floor.

Through his mask he spotted the other boy lying lifelessly on the ground on the opposite end of the room. Bugger, he couldn’t be dead, the Dark Lord would kill him if they’d let one of the stupid kids die. How could he be dead from like an hour? Internal bleeding. Bugger, that’s a bitch.

The other boy wouldn’t shut up, he just kept on screaming and screaming and, “SHUT UP!” Joseph roared without turning around, trying to feel for a pulse on the probably dead boy. He could never do it, just like that one time he’d tried to figure out if one of his victims was dead and they’d popped up and scared him half to---why was it so quiet?

Joseph turned around to see what the other boy was up to but didn’t get the chance as he was rammed, hard in the shoulder by a fucking stag. A stag? He must be dreaming, the boy must have---

James transformed back as the Death Eater slumped against the wall, out cold. Before moving to Frank the boy quickly flipped off the unconscious man’s mask; he had to get one look at one of these bastards before leaving. Swiftly he picked up the Death Eater’s wand and waved to Frank.

“Get up, come on,” James hissed.

Frank laid there motionless, with his mouth still slightly parted open and his still eyes set wide like two empty houses. He looked dead enough- he had lost so much weight that it looked like he could have died from lack of nutrients, or possibly just from a heart attack. He hadn’t really eaten anything in the past month, nor slept a lot- it was entirely possible that the Death Eater could have believed his body had just given up.

Though, just as planned, Frank popped up from his slumped position against the wall looking very much alive and ready indeed. Without a glance at the discombobulated man only a few centimeters away from him, he swiftly stood up with a swish of his robes.

No, no, he had been stupid to even think for a second that they shouldn’t get the hell out of here. Why, why in the world should he be nervous about- this wasn’t their lives. Their lives were outside, with the sunlight and other people, with their aspirations and goals. He had been very stupid for being so apprehensive, and frankly Frank felt idiotic for having to have James talk him into getting his life back. And never having to scream bloody murderer daily ever again. Frank would like that.

“Fucking ugly face,” Frank spoke in a low undertone as he passed by the man, giving an unnecessary kick to his limb foot. The two of them were was almost out the door before- WAIT. Before James could throw an arm back to stop him, Frank rushed back into the room, swiping up everything that had been there since the beginning; Claire, the rag doll, and the rock to promptly dump into his cloak pocket. Except the candle, which never seemed to die out and Frank would rather not set himself on fire.

James grinned and motioned out the door, holding the wand out cautiously as if---no, it wasn’t as if, there actually was a chance for a Death Eater to come jumping from the shadows. The small hallway to the stairwell was empty and James quickened his pace with Frank right behind him. He prayed the stairs weren’t creaky, as that would drive him mad and bring more attention to their escape.

Oh, oh God—there was the door. And the windows and the lights. James felt himself slowly descend the stairs as if mesmerized---no, again, not as if, he was hypnotized by the lights outside the windows. Freedom! The outside world! His pace quickened down the steps and he was almost on the first floor when a pair of strong arms shoved him against the wall, sending him back into reality. The hands of the arms were soon around his neck and James gave a startled yelp as the Death Eater began to choke him.

Frank too, became entranced by the sight of light- light. Though, he seemed to have a bit of trouble dissevering whether it was sunlight, or moonlight. It had to be sunlight, it just had too, look how bright everything seemed, it was nearly blinding. But a good blinding, like, like- Frank only snapped out of his trance-like state at the sound of his friend’s high pitched cry for help.

It took him less than a second to understand that this other Death Eater had every intention to choke James until he feel to the floor unconscious. No, no, they had not broken out of that bloody room just to be so close and get stopped just because- “Argh!” came out of Frank’s mouth before anything else. Very suddenly, he charged forward and rushed his left hand forward at the Death Eater’s face. There, there, feel the searing pain of fire in your skin, in your eyes- let’s see how he liked it.

For what seemed like the hundredth time, the candle had come through for them. The other Death Eater recoiled away from James, shrieking in agony as he held onto his face. A sneer formed on Frank’s face as he swept down to pick up James’ dropped (and stolen) wand from the floor.

“Ah- ah-” It was a good thing he had jammed that candle into the Death Eater’s eye opening rather forcefully , or else Frank would have never gotten the time to remember a spell, let alone the appropriate one. “Aahh- stupefy! Come on.”

James panted heavily as he followed Frank, trying not to lose any more breath. He watched with morbid curiosity as Claire continued to burn the Death Eater’s eyes, and before following Frank he yanked the candle (it had melted a lot---good) forcefully from the Death Eater’s eye socket, letting out a satisfied snort as the Death Eater twitched slightly and then went limp.

He knew he shouldn’t be so proud of Frank for that, but he was, so very.

“We’ve got to get out and run,” James muttered, and shielded his eyes as Frank opened the door, following him out. Freedom! But…it really couldn’t be this easy to get out of the house, was it? No wards? No spells? What was it, where were they? He heard the door slam behind him and blinking rapidly, James tried to get a good look at what the fuck was creating all of that light. Lots of blinking, lots of colors, lots of words…“Is that fucking French?”

No, no- no, nothing? Frank had been apprehensive to even touch the door. What if it had a curse to it, or suddenly burst apart once anyone touched it? Or, or even set off some type of alarm. Something- anything. It was so peculiar, Frank even left his hand on the door before actually going a head and open it.

Instantly, he started to blink furiously as his eyes began to water and his head began to pound. So much light- but at the same time- was it- it was dark? No, no, there was too much light for it to be dark out.

They really should be running like crazy right now.

“I--wah--what do you--wha-I?” he mumbled, turning to his left at the sound of James’ voice, eyes squinted, and then to his right. “I don’t- I don’t-” Heelll, no, fucking- hell- no! No, no, they had not brought them to France. No, no, they were still in England, somewhere. Maybe even Ireland. But not France. It seemed- too far away from home. It was impossible.

“I can’t- I don’t- care.” And with that, Frank stomped one foot in front of the other awkwardly, breaking into an all out sprint. Run, run, run, run. It made his lungs hurt, his heart pound against his chest, and his legs feel sore instantly, but it was running- they were running away. That was all that Frank needed.

James didn’t need to be told; he shot off after Frank and ran faster and harder than he ever had before. How his legs even moving like this were after all that time sitting and being tortured was beyond him, but he felt like he could run for days as long as it got him away from that bloody, horrible place. He didn’t bother to apologize to the people he was running into or the cars they were avoiding getting hit by, because all that mattered was getting away, far, fucking far away.

After what seemed like running for a thousand miles, they both stopped, insanely exhausted, in front of what looked like a little bed and breakfast. James motioned for Frank to follow him inside; hell, there could be some kind soul that would help them. At least---maybe let them try one of those fellytone things or…if they were lucky, maybe they were wizards.

Stumbling into a cozy bed and breakfast all bloody and exhausted was not the best way to impress the hostess, and the pretty blonde behind the counter (a girl, holy shit it felt like forever since he’d seen Lily---) flinched.

“Uh. Vous-êtes? Monsieurs, pourrais-tu- est-ce que nous avons besoin m'aide?” she asked in a squeaky voice. James frowned. That was not English. He looked back to Frank for a second before turning to the girl and blurting out:

“Je ne parle pas français.”

Frank stared stupidly at the girl, wondering what in the bloody world she had just said. That had not been, was she speaking English? Had they been gone so long that they didn’t understand certain developed parts of their own language? But, wait- wait- he snapped his head at James. What? Fran- FRENCH! French, French, they were in- yes! Okay, okay. He knew this. Who would ever figure that the constant beating of this language into his brain would ever help like it would right then? His brain suddenly caught up with everything, and he shook his head quickly.

“Uh…” At this point, the girl behind the counter was staring at the both of them with an even stranger look, eyes very wide. “Where are we- do we want- uh- Oui. Pourrions-nous avior un… logement? Acheter pour- acheter pour ce soir?” Logement, logement, that was the right word, wasn’t it? It would have to be. Frank turned to James. “Right?”

James nodded, all of those dumb lessons from when he was a child suddenly pouring back to him. Huh. He’d have to find that stupid French tutor from long ago and buy him a really, really, really nice present. A watch. A dog. A house. An island, maybe a small country.

“Huh? Oh. Oui. Un logement s’il vous plaît?” James looked down at himself. Torn jeans, bloody white shirt, scars up and down his arms and dried blood. He couldn’t even imagine what his hair looked like, as it looked like a rats nest on a good day. They probably smelled, too. Oy, she was going to call the Aurors, or whatever muggles had. This was---not going to work.

“We don’t have any money,” he muttered, putting a hand to his forehead. He suddenly felt very tired. The girl whispered to herself and then disappeared into a backroom, coming back a moment later with an older man, speaking quickly to him with wild hand gestures. The man looked kind, and came around the counter, putting a hand on James shoulder. He flinched, but relaxed; he wasn’t going to hurt them.

“Pas de panique, nous avons un logement pour vous. Suivrez- moi,” and he motioned down a corridor, pushing open a door to a small room with two nicely-made beds.

“Des oreillers” James gasped, looking at Frank with wide eyes.

Frank was still blissfully unaware of how they looked. In fact, it hadn’t even crossed his mind. The only thing he was focusing on now was how fast the girl’s lips were now moving as she talked to the man, and then in turn how fast he talked. Frank barely caught what he had said- though there was no need, a motion of the hand to follow was all he needed.

“We don’t- nous avons pas- attendez- wait! James. We can’t-” Frank started as he quickly followed James down the short hall. They couldn’t go in there; the only thing that they could possibly have to pay for this would be- weights, was it? They surely did not have that, or at least wizarding money for that matter. Or, French money, or- All of a sudden, his mind came to a screeching halt as the door opened and there were beds. Beds. With sheets, blankets and- not stone. All of his worries from before vanished with one quick snap.

“Lit- bed? A- a-” His brain couldn’t comprehend, and his mouth didn’t seem to be able to form the words. So instead, Frank simply pushed past James (he didn’t even see the other man now) and collapsed onto the nearest bed, suddenly feeling more worn out and tired than he ever had in his life. At least he had a good reason to be.


Who: Seriously guys, there are just too many people in this to write here
What: :OOOOOOOOOOOO
Where: All over Paris
When: January 13, 1978, midday


Beep…beep beep…beep…beep beep…

James yawned greatly as he listened to the machines that were attached to his body. When he’d first woken up he’d panicked and tried to escape from the straps that held him to a bed, but a nurse (at least that’s what he thought the woman was called, she definitely wasn’t a Healer) rushed to his side and explained quite calmly that they were working on his injuries and providing him with medicine that should hopefully stop the pain and lots of other muggle medicine jargon that James simply didn’t understand.

He’d just nodded and stayed quiet, and when she asked for his name and information, he didn’t respond. What could he say? It didn’t matter if he told them his name; James had no muggle relatives anywhere and had no idea how to contact any of his wizard relatives through muggle means. Telephones? His father would probably hex one into oblivion at the sound of its ringing.

After the fourth attempt at trying to get information out of him, the nurse asked him nicely if he was going to stop thrashing around. James nodded and she undid his straps. She waited for a moment to see how he reacted, but James just continued to simply sit there. The nurse smiled and left him alone once again, shutting the door quiet behind her.

James had no idea where Frank was being kept and that worried him; they needed to get out, and couldn’t escape with out each other. He sat up and rubbed his wrists, where the straps had held him down. James supposed that being tied up had been necessary, but right now he was far too tired to fight anything, he just needed to find Frank. He slid off the bed and crossed to the small dresser where his freshly washed clothes were folded (thank goodness they were there, James thought as he held the back of this stupid gown together) and changed back into them. Goodness, clean clothes, that was an amazing feeling.

Peeking out of the room to check who would see him leave, James slipped out into the hallway when a nurse ducked behind a desk. He quickly made his way down the corridor, peering into different rooms. The hospital looked like St. Mungo’s, but with all the machines and contraptions, James couldn’t figure out how they healed anything. Though…he had been knocked out for quite some time, maybe they had gone and fixed everything while he was asleep…nah…

“Frank!” James backpedaled and ducked into the room where he’d spotted his friend, crossing to his bed, “Oh, good, you’re not dead.”

But Frank felt like he had died. His whole body ached, that old ache that came three or four days after a hard workout or doing something strenuous. He shifted in his bed, not fully keen on totally moving. Besides, they still had has wrists tied up due to an certain ‘incident’ previous to James’ arrival (which Frank couldn’t be more than thrilled about if he tried to). “Unless we’re both dead, and this is some strange form of- something,” he calmly stated while watching James stand over his bed. His eyes flickered back across the room for the hundredth time, trying to take everything in.

So far, what Frank had deducted was this. Somehow, somehow these French muggles had transported him and James here, where they had promptly stuck various long, sticky, and painful things into them all while tying them down to the beds. Well, apparently not in James’ case, since he was walking around. Why were they letting him walk around? Was he leaving? Why was James leaving! He was wearing his regular clothes and-

“Where are you going?” He asked suddenly, becoming very anxious over the fact that James could possibly be leaving him here simply because they had let him out instead of Frank. No, no, that couldn’t possible be. “What did they do to us?” Frank continued, giving another glance to his wrists while eying the cloth wrapped around both his arms and feeling the same cloth secured tightly around his abdomen. What they fuck was this; did they think that by wrapping him up to death everything would be better?

James ignored Frank’s sarcasm and began to untie the straps around his friend’s arms. While Frank rambled, James began to try and remember anything about the layout of the hospital. They needed to get out quickly, and they needed to not be seen by any one because apparently two homeless looking kids that looked like they’d been beaten and tortured (oh wait…) was kind of a big deal to these muggles.

“We’re going to get out,” James said calmly, as there was no energy inside of him to get panicked anymore. There really wasn’t any more drive to, either, as panicking only caused pain and, hell. Nothing really to worry about now, was there? Hopefully. He looked over to the dresser and saw that Frank’s clothes were also folded nicely. After untying the last knot he stood back, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Get dressed, come on,” he said, leaning against the side table. “You look like shit, though, so we’ve got to act natural.”

Frank rubbed and flexed his wrists roughly after James untied them from the bed. Though, that didn’t stop him from squeezing in a quick glare in his friend’s general direction. He looked like shit? Oh that was bold. “You don’t look like daisies and flowers either,” he retorted, sticking his bottom lip out in an annoying sort of manner. Which was totally true, Frank might have bandages all up his arms and stomach, but James looked absolutely dismal with his…well. “It looks like your face got into a fight with a shredder and lost,” he said evenly as he started to move and shift toward the side of the bed to finally slip out.

Shouldn’t he close the door? The French muggle lady had promised she would be back soon, with more of whatever she was so keen to shove down his throat every hour or so. Hell, who cared, they were getting out of here and she could go and drink the disgusting crap for him for all Frank cared. It only took him a few moments to change into his old clothes (wonderful smell, bloodstained less and soft) to turn back to James.

“We should just- er, comment-” No, no, no French, that was all people knew here. Another reason to get out quickly. Quietly, he nodded to James and started toward the door, but stopped short because a bloody person was standing there, just in the middle of the doorway, staring at him- the both of them, with an intelligent and knowing stare. Oh great, now they had some other muggle wanting to ask them more questions about who they were and why they had such strange carvings on their arms. Did no one understand that they didn’t want to be here? Apparently not.

James was about to retort that Frank looked like he’d bashed his own face in with his bludging bat, but his head shot toward the door where an authoritative looking man stood, hand on the doorframe. He was tall and wore a long black jacket that looked like one of those secret agent movies that Smeth had once forced everyone to watch. James was about to comment on how he was just visiting his friend, and will be back in his room in a moment (no need to start trouble) when he noticed that the bottom of the man’s jacket did not reveal pants, but…robes?

“Are you a wizard?” James blurted stupidly. Of course, maybe they could’ve been robes or like a doctor sort of thing, but they were deep red and that color looked so familiar. The man smiled and nodded, entering the room and closing the door behind him. James’ hands gripped around the sheets of Frank’s bed; closed doors were not something he liked lately.

“Monsieurs Potter et Longbottom?” James let out a breath of relief as the man said their names; he hadn’t told anyone any information, so this man must be a wizard looking for them. Oh, oh Merlin, they were saved. “I am Auror Taki Bloom, and I’m here to take you the British Magic Embassy so you can go home.”

“Shut the fuck up,” James blurted, stupidly again. He felt his knees shake and had to sit down on Frank’s bed to stop himself from falling to the ground.

Frank didn’t react, but simply stared at the empty space which Mr. Bloom (an Auror) had just inhabited the few seconds before. He was here to- he knew- Embassy- home? Frank could hardly believe it- this was all over? It was over like that? Some French Auror finding them in a muggle curing place, and now he was taking them home? Maybe it was just Frank’s paranoid mind, but he found this all too easy. Hell, he was going to run full speed with it, though, no doubt about it.

“You’re- home?” Frank repeated, finally turning on his heel to stare at the man. Right now, the French looked so good.

“Oui, monsieur. Now if you please? I would like to leave right away. Follow me, if you please,” Taki stated quietly, unphased by both of the boy’s reactions. He walked back toward the door and opened it wide, knowing fully well that no one would bother them until they left the hospital.

Frank gave a look to James, truly not believing their luck. Unbelievable, he just couldn’t believe it. Finally, though a small smile surfaced through his cracked lips. They were going home, and an Auror was escorting them home. Filled with new hope, Frank quietly went to follow Mr. Bloom out the door and down the long corridor and out of the building completely.

James didn’t even think to question Auror Bloom. He probably should have; one of the Dark Lord’s Death Eaters could just as easily know their last names. But, he didn’t, and simply followed Frank and Auror Bloom out into the busy night streets of Paris. Wow, wow. It looked so much more beautiful than it had the first night. He forced himself not to think of the possibilities of this city, how maybe one day he and Lily could’ve visited it. James felt his chest begin to tighten and bit down on the inside of his cheeks, pushing the thought out of his mind.

“It’s just around this block,” Bloom said over his shoulder, walking swiftly.

They turned another corner and James began to notice more and more wizard-like and British things on the street. He saw a flag, he saw a Zonko’s, he…oh God, there was a Quidditch shop down the block, they were actually going to go home and be safe and his dad would hug him tightly and Dorcas would suffocate him and---and Sirius wouldn’t be there, and Lily wouldn’t be there and…

He stopped walking then, shoulders slumped. What was the point? He loved his family, but how could he go back and live when Sirius and Lily were gone? Gone, dead and gone and James put a hand to his face, wincing greatly as he fought back the tears. Why did he have to be hit with such strong emotions now? He wanted to go home, but at the same time he didn’t think he could live without Sirius or Lily, so how could he go home? It was painful, it hurt so much and James tried to calm his breath so he didn’t hear the small pop that sounded from behind him.

“James, what’s wrong? Come and talk to me”

A shiver ran up his spine and James turned quickly, taking in a sharp breath at the sight of Lord Voldemort standing on the pavement behind him. He let out a croaking sound, putting a hand to his chest; it felt like something was clenching his heart in a vice, and it wasn’t just him being terrified at how he was going to be punished, something was really stopping him from breathing. The Dark Lord shook his head softly at him, taking a few steps, slow steps, as if the screaming that had erupted around them by the pedestrians hadn’t fazed him.

“FAITES GAFFE, JAMES!” Bloom shouted, rushing past him and pushing him backwards. James stumbled down to the ground and stared up in horror as a flash of green light erupted in front of him.

Everything happened in slow motion, as if time had turned to a sluggish pace just because it could. Frank watched in horror as the Dark Lord appeared next to James out of thin air, and effortlessly whisper into his friend's ear. If this wasn't so strange and so entirely terrifying, Frank might have assumed they were acquaintances. Friends. But no, that wasn't it, was it? No, no, they were different, there had been a reason why- he took backward step, unsure whether he should, should do anything.

A bright green light filled his eyes, and for a second, Frank thought that he was the one dead. Why not, he had no clue what was going on, and people in the street were still screaming. But, the light slowly faded and Frank was still standing there, just a few meters away from this whole horrific scene. Both Auror Bloom and James were on the ground, one of them very limp and the other wiggling and spazzing around like a fish out of water. And it settled in Frank quiet slowly what had just happened. Monsieur Auror Taki Bloom was dead, and the Dark Lord had- no, no, the Dark Lord would never hurt someone- hurt someone related to him and James. No, no that wasn't like him.

A confused look formed on his face as his eyes darted back and forth between the Auror's body and the now smiling Dark Lord. What- what- they, home? Were they not going home now? The reality of that sat in much quicker than anything else, and it hit Frank hard what had really just happened. Their only hope of going home was lying dead on the pavement, and there was nothing either of them could do about it. Frank's face soon lost its confused look and became replaced with one of pure agony. Unable to stand stably, Frank lost his balance and fell to the ground, feeling lost and defeated. No, no.

“My boys,” Lord Voldemort cooed as he raised his wand again to bring them to their feet. “There is no reason to have your eyes filled with tears and your hearts devastation. I thought you would have liked some time to stretch your legs around Paris.”

“No, no, please, please,” James let out, shaking his head frantically, trying to get to move his feet and not being able to. No, no, this wasn’t happening, they were supposed to be going home, they weren’t---no, no, no! “Please, please---”

“Shh...” the Dark Lord whispered, and James felt that familiar tugging in his chest and he found he couldn't breathe again. “Now, James, why would I hurt you? I have never hurt you, have I?”

That was a lie, that was a lie, he’d put them under cruciatus, he had, but James found himself nodding and agreeing with the Dark Lord's words, bowing his head in shame. How could they have disobeyed him so openly? Wait---WAIT!

“No, we don’t want to—we don’t WANT to stay!” James shouted, wincing greatly as the vice-like feeling around his lungs clenched tighter. “We don’t want to stay!”

“You want to get back home, I understand, but there is nothing for you at home.” The Dark Lord's eyes flickered over to Frank, “You have no one waiting for you either, Frank, your home...it is with me now. You will stay with me.”

Frank found himself struggling against what was being said and what he actually thought. Inner- emotional turmoil, maybe that was what people called it. But he did have people- people who cared enough to- that Auror, he had- he had cared enough to- no, no, but, He was right, no one had come to find them until they had gotten out themselves. And even then it had taken a day or so for someone to care enough…

No, no, there had been a reason for all of this. They had wanted to live, be- be themselves and go back- have a life. He was controlling them, he was, he was and- but did he- he did care. No, no, he didn’t. If he had cared enough, he wouldn’t have- and he wouldn’t be doing this and they would be home already. Or at least, away from all of this.

“N-u-no- no,” Frank murmured, trying his best to shake his head. No, no, just because- he still had- they had aspirations and there was Ali- no, no, none one understood. “You don’t- can’t-” he started to speak louder. It pained him to keep on going, but he did anyway. “You don’t understand. We don’t want to- we want- you’re not- home- no. No! We just, we just- please.”

“Please does not work with me, Frank.”

“Oh, but it works with me, Tom.”

James’ entire body jerked at the new voice and he tried to turn toward it, but was blinded by a flash of blue light.

And then----a blur of robes, bright purple robes swept by him and James was pushed back again. The hold Voldemort had on them dropped, it was---he could breathe again, and when he finally got a look at what the blur was, he let out a surprised yelp. It was Dumbledore, it was the headmaster, it was their saviour, he was going to save them.

Dumbledore turned to James and Frank, looking sternly at them, but---relieved?

“Run,” Dumbledore said simply.

James nodded dumbly, his mind not fully understanding the order, but his legs did, and soon he and Frank were on a full sprint away from the Dark Lord and Dumbledore, running, running, just running until he was hit in the gut by the outstretched arms of a hidden man.

“LET ME GO!” James screamed, thrashing and kicking and hoping to knock the man’s head off. He was not going to get taken again, he was NOT going to be put through this again, he would rather kill himself than---but the man that had a hold on him was chuckling, laughing.

“Little Potts, calm yer self, aye?” the very familiar voice of Mad-Eye Moody rang, “It’ll be a’right, we’ve gotcha." James immediately fell limp and Mad-Eye let him go; he hit the ground, he hit grasss.

James saw that Frank was also being held by an Auror, another one he recognized from his father's old department. They were---this was...people they knew. This wasn’t a trick, they weren't no-nothing muggles, they...they got tugged through a gateway to a ratty looking building and suddenly they were in a lavish garden, with the British flag flying high above the entry way of a mansion of sorts.

The British Wizarding Embassy.

“Oh,” James let out quietly, and found that was all he could say.

Frank felt so blinded by the rapid action of everything that had happened, so dazed, he hardly noticed the change of scenery. Or anything, really. All he noticed was that yet another person was holding onto him very tightly and this voice was eerily calm like the rest of them had been and- Frank continued to struggle until the man finally let go of him and Frank stumbled to the ground, hands first.

Where- where- this wasn’t the gravel of the street. It was marble- or, or, no- this was grass. Grass near steps of marble. They were on the steps of something. They were? Frank noticed James slide down to the ground awkwardly, too; whether or not for the same reason he would never know or care to. But- but, he looked fine.

“Where- where-” he stuttered out, eyes darting around wildly until they finally went up to set on the older looking man that was grinning widely. They were- they were- Frank felt like he was going to pass out. The sudden flood of relief was so much, so great, he could hardly keep himself from lolling to the floor in one great swoop.

Mad-Eye grinned down at the boys, pushing the door open, “Yer going home, boys.”