Chapter 12: New quests and uncharted territory

I don't own 'Harry Potter'

Warning: a couple of vague-ish sex scenes. I've edited out the more explicit things (even if it's not much more). If you want the unedited version, head over to AO3.

"Don't you look cute."

Harry didn't have time to do more than widen his eyes before another body collided with his, knocking the both of them onto the bed next to him.

He let out a small grunt at the impact and wiggled to get free, though he knew it was truly a lost cause. Harry huffed and relaxed onto the duvet, allowing the idiot on top of his body to straddle him and gaze down into his eyes, an annoying smirk on his face that made Harry want to punch the idiot.

It wasn't surprising. As much as Harry loved him, James had a gift for inciting violence.

The hazel-eyed moron grinned down at him, seemingly rather happy with himself. Which Harry didn't doubt for a moment. His soulmate often decided that being a complete and utter prat was a good way to spend his time.

James raised a brow. "What's with the pout?"

"I'm not pouting," he shot back with a glare.

"You might want a reality check, Darling." James grinned even wider, a teasing glint in his eyes. "You're not quite as physically fierce as you think you are. Not that it's a problem," he said airily. "I quite enjoy how gorgeous you look when you're angry."

Harry was not blushing at James' leer. His soulmate was a twat.

"Shut up," he grumbled. Harry glanced out the window, spotting the sun high in the sky and frowned. Looking back at James, he rolled his eyes at the unrepentant air of glee about the taller boy.

"James, you do realise that we're supposed to be getting ready, don't you? I don't know about you, but I don't want your mother to come up here wondering where we've gotten to."

James winced slightly. "Yeah, I guess. I don't particularly fancy getting cursed for 'corrupting' someone as 'innocent' as you." He shot Harry a pointed look that had the smaller boy grinning. "Which is such bollocks. I still don't get how she doesn't see what sort of devil you really are."

Harry smirked wickedly at James. "Because I'm fucking awesome, that's why."

That got a surprised laugh out of his soulmate, and Harry felt inordinately proud at seeing it. It wasn't often that he was seen as the arsehole between them; he quite liked having the tables turned for once. (Which didn't say much for his mental state, but he could begrudgingly admit that that ship has sailed long ago. As long as the general public didn't realise that he was a walking psychological disaster – especially Dumbledore; he didn't relish the prospect of being dubbed Tom 2.0 by the interfering old bastard – it was all good.)

Harry suppressed a smirk and leaned up, pressing a deep kiss to James' lips, using the small sound of surprise to dart his tongue into his soulmate's mouth. James groaned and wrapped his arms around Harry's waist, making him grin internally. While James was thoroughly distracted – another point to his inner pride – Harry spun them rapidly so he was on top of the taller boy. He pulled back from the filthy kiss, pecked the other boy's lips once more, and jumped off the bed.

He turned around, smirking wickedly at his fellow Gryffindor on the bed. James looked a little wrecked on the bed; his cheeks were flushed, clothes ruffled, and his hair looked somewhat reminiscent of their afterlife adventures in the Gryffindor Common Room. The expression on his face made Harry nearly snort. James clearly didn't know what he should be focusing on, internally flitting between his mental arousal and trying to process that Harry had in fact just abandoned him on the bed. What an idiot.

Harry tilted his head to the side, raising a thin brow in question. "Aren't you going to get changed, Love? We do have a wedding to get to, you know?"

James groaned loudly and turned onto his side, curling into a ball with his head in his hands. It was thoroughly entertaining to witness.

Hazel eyes peeked up at him. "I hate you so much right now. You're such a sneaky little shit."

"Guilty as charged."

"You don't even care, do you?" James asked as he sat up, shaking his head at being duped. Go, me.

Harry smirked wickedly. "Should I?"

Before James could say something else – and make Harry try and hex him for some sort of impropriety, seeing as that look in those hazel eyes promised nothing good for Harry's blood pressure – the two soulmates paused at the sound of footsteps walking up the corridor outside the room.

The taller boy jumped off the bed and quickly spelled his appearance neater, ridding his clothes of wrinkles and ensuring his lips weren't swollen. There wasn't much point in using magic on his hair; it was useless on a good day. James quickly ran a hand through his hair, getting rid of the just-been-shagged look, but instead leaving it looking like he'd been dragged through a hedge. Backwards. While struggling. Several times. (It was okay, Harry loved him anyway. And could sympathise so badly.)

Harry did the same, smoothing his robes and spelling his hair to be tidier. Since he'd been in the past, Harry had been growing his hair out for the first time. (Because Gin had been weirdly obsessed with him keeping his hair short so they could look like the next Lily and James. The less said about that utter disaster of a woman, the better. He'd clearly been royally fucked in the head to marry her. Yay for PTSD.) His hair now fell just past his shoulders, so Harry quickly pulled it back into a small ponytail, with some wavy strands framing his face.

The door opened, and Dorea strolled in, looking both entirely relaxed and like a woman on a mission that needed to be completed now. Considering she'd organised the entire ceremony with only Melania Black – Lady Black to represent Orion, and Dorea for Melissa – it wasn't surprising.

James' mother looked beautiful in a simple cream dress with dark green ivy patterns all over. The sleeveless garment fell to just below the woman's knees, and there was a thin black belt at her waist. Dorea's hair was back in what appeared to be a simple bun, until you realised the bun was a mass of twisting plaits that Harry could make neither heads nor tails of. He didn't think he'd ever figure out how she got it like that.

"Boys, there you are! The ceremony is due to start in half an hour, so I need you to head down to the grounds now."

Dorea walked forward, reaching for her son to try and fix his hair somewhat. To Harry's utter shock, the woman actually managed – with a liberal use of magic – to style James' hair into something like it was deliberately messy, which gave his soulmate a polished look that Harry was rather appreciative of. His other half almost looked mature. Will miracles never cease?

"Henry."

He turned at the sound of his name, and stilled when Dorea casually repeated the same action with his hair, smoothing out flyaway strands, styling the loose parts, and generally fussing over him. The woman was muttering under her breath as she straightened his collar before she pulled back with a smile, gently stroking his head while she grinned at him.

"That's better! Now hurry along, and make sure to send any stragglers to their seats if you find them. Merlin only knows there'll be some idiot wandering around where they're not meant to be."

The woman bent down to press a quick kiss to James' head, smirking when he offered a token protest to the action before doing the same to Harry. She smiled softly at Harry's stunned expression and left the room with a pointed look at them, reminding them to hurry.

Harry touched his head where the woman had kissed him, feeling warm inside despite the small urge to cry. Having the woman practically treat him like another son, even though she had no reason to, brought forth his deeply-buried desire to have parents. He might have had the original Henry's early memories, but overall he was more Harry than Henry Peverell.

In his own memory, he'd never had a parent that cared for him unconditionally. Sirius and Remus might have tried before, but being in the middle of a war hadn't exactly been conducive towards easy familial relationships. Seeing – or experiencing – James' parents care for him so much was enough to leave him feeling vulnerable. Melissa was closer to his sister than any parental model, therefore receiving that sort of love was astounding to experience. Dorea and Charlus cared about him because James did, simple as. They weren't obligated to treat him like their own child, but they were.

It was humbling.

James took his hand, squeezing softly as he smiled at him. His face was gentle, no hint of his usual mocking smirk or provocative leer. His soulmate remained silent, instead leading him out of the room and through the manor so they could get to the wedding ceremony.

The two walked entirely in silence, Harry still feeling off balance, even if he could admit that he still craved that parental affection. He couldn't help it; a part of him was always going to want what he hadn't experienced before. He had in his adult life.

"You ready?"

Harry turned to James, grateful for his quiet support while he'd been focused on his own swirling thoughts. (And somewhat bewildered at the show of maturity, but he wasn't going to mention that; the idiot had a big enough ego as it was.) He squeezed the other's hand before separating them, rolling his eyes at James' muttered protest. Moron.

"Let's go see Sirius have a breakdown at getting a new stepmother."

James laughed loudly, his hazel eyes sparkling with mischievous glee at the prospect of his cousin's imminent mental crisis. (Harry would have scolded James if he weren't of the same mind. He really did have an awful personality, didn't he?)

The two boys made their way through the gardens at Black Manor, joining up with the guests just as a harried Lord Black appeared looking as if he was desperate for a drink of the alcoholic variety.

Harry held in his grin at the sight.

This should be fun.

James looked around the decorated hall and shook his head, utterly bemused at his surroundings. He couldn't see a single thing that looked out of place; it was quite astounding.

His mother and Melania Black were miracle workers, and nothing would convince him otherwise.

The sheer level of detail that had gone into creating this day was incredible. (Orion and Melissa hadn't been engaged that long, yet they'd elected to get married not even six months after that. Which James could understand; if they had a strong enough relationship, then there was no real reason for delaying the ceremony.) As such, planning had had to occur rather quickly.

Location security, decorations, finding a trusted officiator, sorting out food and guests … In just mere months. And they'd managed to get permission for some of the students to come home for the day. His mother and Melania were machines. Ruthlessly efficient, subtly threatening, endlessly devious machines. Machines that had a predilection for caffeine, alcohol and blackmail. (James had a sneaking suspicion that his aunt Cassiopeia had been involved with the latter somehow, even if only in the periphery.

He didn't want to admit it, but he was starting to understand Sirius' constant rants on the crazy Black women. It was like being batshit insane was a prerequisite or something.)

In just a matter of months, a ceremony had been scrupulously planned down to the tiniest detail, which had included the guests, and how many of their society were to be invited. Orion had adamantly shot down the idea of having a public ceremony, and had barred any and all media journalists from attending his second wedding (likely due to the fucked up memories of the first). Therefore, it had been organised as a private affair, an unusual occurrence for something as politically challenging as this.

The couple in question might be marrying for love, but aligning the Houses of Black and Peverell in this manner had stirred many a whisper about the future goings inside the Wizengamot since the announcement. The Heir to the Black family and the Regent Lady Peverell marrying was more than enough to ruffle a few feathers, especially because the masses were still trying to figure out where the bloody hell the ancient House had appeared from after centuries of absence.

Inciting even more interest, his mother had taken great delight in 'letting slip' – calling bullshit so much, Mum – to some of her friends that the wedding would only have a limited guest list, and she couldn't have been sure who would be asked to attend.

What James found even more hilarious – shut up, Harry – was that his darling mum had deliberately stirred up interest in the Black family, only to turn around and metaphorically shut the door in people's faces. Everyone wanted to be one of the people 'worthy' enough to get an invite, but nobody would deny or confirm whether or not they were one of the lucky few, all to save face in front of everyone else. Being invited to witness the wedding of the future Lord Black, Lord of one of the premium Houses of magical Britain, was a privilege, after all.

The irony was that the two devious witches in charge of organising the whole affair had long decided it would be a day for friends and family only. While the snobby gits of their society would run around trying to figure out who'd been rewarded with an invite, Melania and his mother would happily have informal meetings and invite those Orion and Melissa actually wanted there. More or less.

James was pretty certain that Orion hadn't really wanted certain members of his House there, but the Blacks were a tough lot to keep away, especially when it was the wedding of their current Heir. Padfoot's old man had been more or less fucked on that front.

Currently, the massive hall in Black Manor was covered floor to ceiling in ribbons, various wall hangings, floating balls of light, and a mixture of flowers and vines that crept up the walls and furniture. It was rather pretty. And, of course, he was in no way taking mental notes so he could start planning his own wedding with Harry already. It wasn't as if he wanted to get everything already set up so he could sling his beloved soulmate over his shoulder, disappear to a ready location, and marry Harry as soon as their time at Hogwarts ended. James was definitely not plotting in any way, shape or form.

Not out loud, anyway. Harry might curse him or something. (Which really shouldn't be as hot as it was.)

"Where is he, anyway?"

James frowned to himself, wondering where his gorgeous other half had wandered off to. He could see his aunt Cassiopeia smirking at Lord Herbert Burke – the widower of Aunt Belvina – and casually twirling her wand. Uncle Marius had a highly amused expression on his face as he watched the spectacle, cheerfully chatting away to Uncle Pollux. The two men were nonchalantly discussing something, clearly uncaring of the fact that their sister was mere seconds away from committing murder at their nephew's wedding reception.

Yeah, not going there. James might have a terrible sense of humour – which Harry might moan about, but the fact that they were literal soulmates who complemented each other perfectly didn't say much about Harry's own mind; bloody hypocrite – but he did possess some self-preservation.

Get in the way of the old bat that had helped his mum become a crazy woman? Yeah, no thanks.

Old Arcturus and Melania are gossiping as always … He didn't need the memories of being an adult to know that getting in between the older generation and the opportunity to dig up dirt on their enemies was a spectacularly bad idea. Adding in his aunts Callidora, Cedrella and Charis, and their husbands, was enough to have him feign complete and utter ignorance on that situation. He was less likely to die that way.

He wandered through the hall, dodging guests and floating trays as he went. James smirked at the sight of Lady Regina Fawley deliberately flirting with Orion, leaning in and fluttering her eyelashes at the uncomfortable man. What made it even better was that Melissa was laughing raucously and egging the older woman on, grinning evilly at her new husband's glare. James didn't know what Uncle Orion's problem was; Lady Fawley might be over thirty years his senior in her mid-seventies, but she was still a beautiful woman. She might have a husband and be happily married, but James had grown up with Alphard around. Extra-marital sex wasn't exactly a novel concept to him.

The boy dodged around a group of manically grinning witches, inwardly shuddering as he imagined what sort of havoc those women could cause if they just tried. Considering the group included the mothers of Frank, Alice, Pandora, and Dorcas, stumbling into their path – whether accidentally or not – was just asking for trouble.

"James?"

Turning his head, he saw Sirius with Regulus, Caspar and Barty. Huh. Barty still hasn't cracked, I see. I wonder if Harry'll be disappointed … His thoughts trailed off before he perked up, turning to his three young cousins, resisting the urge to cackle like dear Bella when she wanted to make someone piss their pants.

(Hey, it was funny, alright?)

"Have you seen Harry?" he asked innocently, lips twitching slightly. "I haven't seen him for a while."

Sirius was looking at him flatly, eyes slightly dead inside as he stared at James as if he wanted to kill him. Or off himself. James wasn't too sure. It was pretty funny, though; this version of Padfoot was pretty different from last time around, but he was definitely happier. Considering Walburga was six feet under and not around to drive everyone else to insanity, it was fairly obvious as to why. If he'd had that hag as his mother, he would've run away as soon as he could walk. Fuck waiting until sixteen. (Now he thought about it, Sirius had had remarkable patience as teen, even as a loudmouth drama queen.)

The Ravenclaw's eyes bore into his. "I haven't seen Henry since he went to the restroom." Sirius sighed and swept his eyes across the room. "Lucky bastard, escaping like that."

James snorted, grinning at Sirius' resulting glare. Love you too, Cousin.

Regulus was trying to clear his throat, clearly just barely holding in the laughter that wanted to escape. The boy was studiously avoiding his brother's pissed off gaze, instead focusing on the group of children in the corner of the hall opposite them. Barty was quietly snickering to himself, grinning widely at Caspar and trying to get the younger boy to join in with them. Would you look at that? Family bonding, Black-style.

He spotted Orion leading Melissa onto the dance-floor and smiled at the sight. They were pretty damn cute as a couple. Not as much as him and Harry, of course, but not everyone could win in the game of romance like him and his soulmate.

Speaking of … James frowned to himself, mentally reciting his other half's commentary about the decorations earlier on. Harry had wanted to check out the gardens because his mum and Melania had decided to work out something with some local Faeries for the gardens. Seeing as it was getting dark outside, he had no doubt that things looked bloody amazing outside right now.

He turned to Sirius and smirked evilly, lips twitching further at his cousin's wary demeanour. Poor sod. I'd feel more sorry for him if it weren't so bloody entertaining to torment him. He makes it so easy, dumb dog that he is.

Clapping Padfoot on the shoulder once, he wiggled his eyebrows for emphasis. "If I don't see you later, make sure you don't interfere with your dad's love life. If you want another sibling so quickly, they'll need some private time to indulge in the creative process, if you get my drift."

He darted away between some random adults to a horrified shriek of "JAMES!", roaring with laughter as he did, stomach aching and legs burning from sprinting so quickly. Sirius was going to be pissed with him for a while, but he'd get over it. Hopefully soon. It was fucking weird seeing his former best mate as something like a scandalised prude. (James had once born witness to Sirius Black stumbling around with a dopey grin and a purple hickey on his neck, looking beyond smug at his exploits. He wondered if a few years and a spontaneous dose of hormones would awaken that part of him again.)

James wandered outside and meandered through the massive hedges, pausing briefly at the deep groan emanating from several feet to his left. The boy smirked slightly and shook his head. It's Alphard and Heather all over again. He looked around quickly, and upon spotting no-one around, pulled his cloak out of his pocket and covered his body. This should be interesting.

After thoroughly silencing his shoes and clothes, James tiptoed towards the suspicious moaning and shuffled around the hedge that was clearly hiding the amorous couple. Or people. Hey, if someone wanted to have a threesome – or moresome – he was all for it. Free love, and all that. James considered himself to be an open-minded bloke when it came to romance. As long as nobody ever got to see Harry during sex, then people could do whatever they wanted. (Perhaps not the best way to measure sexual acceptance, but at least he had a way to measure things. That was more than some could say.)

He bent forward and peeked around the leaves, eyebrows raising at the sight before him. It might not be as scandalous as seeing his uncle balls deep in his aunt in the middle of his home, but having a filthy snog in the grounds of Black Manor with a cheeky handjob thrown in wasn't the smartest thing to do.

Gideon Prewett – a great guy, if somewhat impulsive (and apparently a massive pervert) – currently had his tongue down his target's throat, ravishing the other man up against the fauna. One hand was gripping a tanned throat, the other clearly going to town down below. The redhead was giving it his all, likely spurred on by his lover's enthusiastic moans and thrusting hips.

Definitely not a couple I ever expected, James mused with a small grin. Gideon and Benjy Fenwick had both been in the Order last time around, but James had never noticed any of the chemistry he could see right now between them. Benjy was a cheerful guy who'd gone to school with Gideon and his brother, so perhaps this 'relationship' wasn't as new as James thought. Either way, they were clearly happy with the direction their libido was sending them, and he'd seen enough for a lifetime.

Bloody lack of hormones. Being a late bloomer sucks.

He quickly left – those groans were increasing in both pitch and speed, and he really didn't need to see those two come all over each other – and made his way towards the pond further away from the main house. He ditched his cloak and removed his spells – no need to make himself seem suspicious – before rounding the closest hedge into the clearing next to the pond.

James paused at the sight of the water. Multiple Faeries were hovering over the water, casting an ethereal glow over the dark water. The ripples distorted the bright light, sending it in every direction as the tiny creatures flew in whatever direction they wanted. It was a beautiful sight.

So was Harry with his feet in the water.

His soulmate was sat at the water's edge, his socks and shoes discarded to the side with his outer robes. Harry had rolled up his trouser legs so he could dip his feet into the cool depths of the pond, and was sat casually with his hands splayed out behind him. He had his head tilted back so he could stare at the sky, light from the moon and the Faeries dancing across his pale skin. Lightly curled hair was loose around his face, dancing in the gentle breeze sweeping across the grounds, and James could feel his breath catch in his throat.

Merlin, how did I end up this lucky?

"James?"

The taller boy blinked back to reality, noticing Harry's piercing green eyes locked on his, a questioning look on that ridiculously gorgeous face. He shook off his sappy – yet entirely justifiable – thoughts and walked over to Harry, dropping down behind him and pulling the other boy close. James spread his legs so he could hug Harry tight against his chest, and he sighed quietly, hooking his chin over the shoulder in front of him.

He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, happily basking in Harry's natural scent mixed with the tang of raspberries the other boy had been eating earlier. It was bloody intoxicating, and once more James mourned the lack of a sex life. Sort of. (He definitely missed sex, but he had Harry all the same. That was more than enough. Besides, good things come to those who wait. This way he could prepare for the day that brilliance happened once more.)

"James, are you okay?"

"Hmm, I'm good," he murmured. "Just wondered where you went."

"Sorry about that. It was getting a bit loud in there." Harry squeezed his hand tightly.

He smiled to himself. "It still is. Don't worry, it won't be long until Uncle Orion and Melissa head off together."

Harry snorted softly. "I still can't believe they ended up married after all. Your mum's a terrifying match-maker, you know."

"I'm aware."

The two lapsed into silence, watching the tiny balls of light flit back and forth across the body of water, no rhyme or reason to the movements. The glow illuminated a few leaves drifting across the pond, the ripples disrupting the bright lights as they floated. It was a peaceful sight.

"Hey, James?"

His eyes found the side of Harry's face, hugging him tighter. "Yes?"

"… Can we have some Faeries at our wedding?"

James stilled and blinked rapidly, wondering if his wishful thinking had finally started making him hallucinate. He shifted so he could see Harry's face and felt his heart race at the red flush in front of him. Despite the obvious embarrassment, his soulmate was staring him in the eye resolutely, chin raised slightly and a determined set to his face. It was a far cry from the mortified looks of the Harry from nearly two years ago.

James really did love him.

He smiled properly at his future husband, refusing to smirk or grin childishly, reaching forward to cup Harry's face in his hands. James pulled the other boy toward him and pressed a chaste kiss to Harry's soft lips, letting his eyes fall shut as he fell into the warmth of their intimacy.

It was worlds apart from their common lust-driven flirting, but James craved it all the same. He might joke that he was desperate for the return of their short-lived sex life, the amorous greed that had kick-started their relationship, but this was so much more real than that.

James had never truly had something this genuine, he thought as he hummed into Harry's warm mouth, wrapping an arm around his lover's neck. His love life had been practically non-existent before his unfortunate death, most likely because he simply hadn't been in the right frame of mind for a true relationship. (Knowing as he did now that Harry was his soulmate, it certainly explained a few things.)

He also knew that Harry's life and marriage had been a disaster from start to finish because of various issues, so he knew that the smaller boy also hadn't experienced a bond this pure and natural. Having the two of them make this journey side by side was both desirable and humbling to James. It soothed the possessive side of him while also reminding him that he and Harry were in this together. They were both learning and growing to love one another at the same time.

He wasn't sure what he'd done to deserve this experience, but he wasn't going to question such a blessing.

James pushed harder into Harry for a brief moment before pulling back, resting their foreheads together. He opened his eyes and gazed into Harry's eyes, an unconscious smile appearing on his face. Those bright green eyes might be a little unsettling to some, but he didn't think he'd ever get enough of seeing them light up with happiness or mischief. Even that evil glint that promised retribution was a delightful thing to witness. Anything other than sadness was brilliant to James.

He slid a hand around Harry's neck to stroke his soft cheek, revelling in the spectacle of his soulmate's eyes fluttering, thick eyelashes brushing his pale skin. Harry blinked his eyes open and smiled sweetly at him, looking nothing like the boy that had once second-guessed everything about his own emotions in relation to James. Seeing him look so confident and comfortable in himself was a heartening experience.

James brushed Harry's bottom lip with his thumb. "I think the Faeries are a good idea. Any other suggestions?"

"Well …"

As they sat there in the relative silence, quietly trading possible wedding plans back and forth, Harry's smile slowly lost its shy edge and took on a teasing shape, his lips curling and eyes lighting up excitedly at the idea of their future marriage.

James wondered if he'd end up with smile lines before the age of twenty with how much he was grinning at Harry's enthusiasm, but that thought wasn't nearly enough to deter him. Getting his soulmate to be so openly excited was usually quite difficult, so he was going to enjoy every second of the endearing picture.

He gazed at Harry's light-hearted laughter and felt himself soften.

I'll do whatever I can so you never lose that smile.

He lifted his head, breathing heavily and chest heaving.

His eyes rove over the toned body underneath him, his gaze burning as it traced a course across every dip and curve. Sweat dripped off the pale chest as his lover gasped and writhed in his embrace. He smirked at the sight.

James leaned forward to guide himself into Harry's pliant body, anticipating the warmth gripping and stroking him towards completion …

Hazel eyes shot open and James's heart pounded, sweating through his pyjamas as his mind played over his dream.

"FUCKING DAMN IT!"

Harry, naked. Harry, splayed out for him and him only. Harry, post-orgasm and ready for more. Harry, and him, and sex, and post-puberty bodies with actual erections for a spectacular marathon of endless sex that would leave both of them covered in sweat and struggling for breath …

He glanced down and lifted his duvet, staring morosely at the lack of a reaction. He rolled over and screamed into his pillow, all the while trying to ram his head into the bed in whatever spot he could.

Why the fuck did I have to wake up?!

Life wasn't fair. It sucked. He forced himself to lay still and closed his eyes, repeatedly inhaling deeply before exhaling, determined to calm himself down. No matter what some people said, James had a lot more control of himself than was immediately obvious.

He flopped back onto his bed and stared at the ceiling, beyond pissed off at being thirteen again.

This is getting ridiculous.

Harry's so mean to me …

James huffed and flopped forward onto the sofa, giving no fucks as his glasses dug into his face where they were squashed at an odd angle. He groaned into the soft cushions, wiggling sideways so he could get his whole body onto the sofa. He wanted to mope properly, and that required a certain level of comfort.

After his shitty teasing dream – which had done nothing to his body except make him rage internally; not exactly the sort of passion he'd been aiming for – he'd eventually gotten back to sleep, but his dreams had been plagued by memories of that specific fantasy. Sleep had been restless, to say the least.

The next day, James had called Harry with his mirror, ready and waiting to rant about his shitty situation. All he'd wanted was some sympathy, maybe a loaded promise or two for their future sexual exploits, just some understanding from his beloved soulmate.

Oh, how naïve he'd been.

Harry had given him a flat look, shook his head with sheer disappointment emanating from him, and briefly lectured him with short, clipped sentences, delivered in a sincerely disappointed tone. His other half had then told him to get over himself, then gone off with Melissa to spend the day with the Blacks.

Harry was an utter bastard when he wanted to be.

Granted, James found the sassy and sharp-tongued version of Harry to be incredibly attractive – he couldn't wait to see his soulmate give someone a verbal smack-down at some point – but he wanted Harry to feel bad for him. Seriously, did he not understand how bloody detailed that dream had been?

"James?"

He grunted and rolled over, lifting his head to see his parents looking at him weirdly. As much as he loved them, they weren't exactly innocent when it came to the disaster that was his personality. (Hey, as much as he acted like a superior little shit, he was pretty self-aware, thank you very fucking much.) Between the apathy and anxiety from his father, and his mum's general insanity tinged with murderous tendencies, he was fairly normal. He could be a lot worse.

"Mum? Dad?"

Dorea walked towards him, stopping a few feet away. "We've got something to tell you."

He blinked at the composed tone and sat up, narrowing his eyes at her blank face. She wasn't joking at all.

Charlus cleared his throat and moved to sit on the sofa opposite James. "It's not anything bad, so you can relax. It's more something that came as a bit of a surprise."

"It wasn't a conscious effort, it just happened," his mum added as she sat next to her husband.

"So, what's up? If it's not a bad thing, is it something good?" he asked slowly, trying to ponder through the situation. This certainly hadn't happened last time around.

The two adults shared a glance before turning to him with a bright smile, the expression soft rather than the teasing look they usually gave him. This was definitely a happy occasion, whatever it was. Dorea sent James an exceedingly gentle smile and opened her mouth.

"I'm pregnant with twins."

He froze in his seat, body entirely still even as his mind raced a mile a minute.

What. The. Ever. Loving. Fuck?

James had always been an only child, this life and his last. He knew his parents had originally wanted more than a single child, but his mother had struggled enough to conceive James. The couple had decided not to try again after him, instead choosing to be content with just a sole child.

Neither of his parents had ever given James the impression that they were disappointed with him for being an only child instead of one with siblings. They'd loved and cherished him – and spoiling him far more than was appropriate, as he'd long realised – focusing on their small family unit instead of expending effort to expand it.

Dorea Potter hadn't been pregnant at this time before. That was a fact. He might not remember every little thing about his life before dying, but he could distinctly remember the summer before his third year. Just like the previous timeline, little Nymphadora Tonks had been born a couple of months before the end of the school year, so his mum had dragged the family over to the Tonks house to congratulate the family on the birth of the girl.

The same had happened this time, but there was a distinct difference in James' memories. That being alcohol. Last time, his mum had gone all out, and she'd been so wasted that his dad had had to stun the woman before she ran off to kill Walburga for her shit parenting. (Which, he certainly couldn't blame her for. Honestly, James was more surprised that someone hadn't offed the crazy bitch years before her too-late demise.)

This time, Dorea Potter had stuck to the juice and therefore didn't have to dragged away from a quest of retributive vengeance, much to James' disappointment. He'd been looking forward to a spectacle or two, and he wasn't talking about baby Nym puking all over Charlus, hilarious though it had been.

So, in hindsight, his mother staying sober so often was a pretty big indication of the pregnancy. He hadn't been expecting it, but it made sense. It was weird as fuck, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't interested in having siblings.

James had wanted to be a big brother last time, but he'd kept quiet about that particular desire after figuring out his mother's problems with having children. He might have been an even bigger prick last time around, but he hadn't been horrid enough to be so cruel to his own parents.

He cleared his throat, sending his parents a reassuring grin. "So, I'm going to be a big brother. When are you due, Mum?"

The woman's shoulders relaxed. "I should be giving birth at the end of November, or early December. I'm already in the second trimester, and I haven't had any problems yet," Dorea said with a relieved smile, one hand on her lower stomach. "With the way things are going, you'll have two siblings in time for next Yule. You'll be able to meet them during the break in December."

"Do you know what you're having?" James asked, feeling quite excited at the prospect of such a new experience.

"Funny you should ask that," his dad snorted, rolling his eyes for emphasis. "It turns out that you'll have a younger brother and a younger sister. Why choose one when you can have both?" Charlus asked rhetorically, shaking his head with a slightly bewildered look on his face. James would feel sorry for his dad if the sight weren't so fucking funny. Sorry, Dad. Karma and all that, you know? (James was sure his father had done something to warrant being driven towards insanity.)

Dorea responded with a scathing comment that James missed, and his dad didn't miss a beat before shooting back at his wife, beginning yet another back and forth. James sat back wishing he had some popcorn as his parents descended into a petty argument that was peppered with references to old age, an inability to clean up after themselves properly, and an affinity for high-sugar snacks, all interspersed with playful grins and a teasing tone. If James weren't their son, he'd be disgusted by their sappy affection.

He smiled to himself at the picture in front of him, wondering if one day he and Harry would be in a position to have ridiculous arguments that made their children roll their eyes with distaste. It was such a simple tableau to imagine, but it was one that warmed James nonetheless. He looked forward to being a father with his soulmate by his side for the whole adventure, good times and bad. They'd be a great balance, and Harry was going to be a wonderful parent, no matter how much his self-confidence dipped sometimes.

One day, the two of them were going to be happily enthusing over their newest child, eagerly discussing the baby's gender, how they were going to decorate their room, speculating over their appearance … He and Harry would no doubt obsess over every little thing about childcare, panicking until they got used to the routine of caring for their own child.

It was going to be an amazing thing to experience.

James studied his parents and grinned to himself, trying not to snort as his mother exasperatedly berated Charlus, the older man smirking at her cheekily, laughing unrepentantly at his antics when Dorea pointed her finger at the man snickering like a child.

I guess now's the time for a new adventure.

A/N: Hey guys!

So, I think it's safe to say that 2020 has been a spectacularly shit year so far, and we're not even halfway through. Oh joy.

If anyone was wondering, I was going to finish writing this chapter a few days after posting 'In This Time', but things went to hell rather quickly. It's morbidly funny, in a horrific way. My mental health took a dive, my physical health followed - and there's a lack of services for my specific problem because of the lockdown, and then someone in my close family got diagnosed with cancer. It's been a shitty couple of weeks.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I finally got around to writing a (more or less) cohesive plan for this fic, so there's now going to be around 25 chapters once I finish. Though I will say this number is just an estimate. God only knows what my mind might come up with between now and then.

Also, I've uploaded some more family trees to deviantart (anime-otaku20), so check them out if you want.

Thanks for being so patient guys, and I'll see you next time. Stay safe!