WHO: James & Harry Potter WHERE: Their apartment WHEN: Backdated, May 16 WHAT: Don't I know you? RATING: Low to start? Probable mentions of death etc. STATUS: Incomplete
James hadn't known if anyone would be in the flat he'd been allocated, but as he stepped through the doorway, it was a relief to find the living room empty. He didn't quite fancy explaining the arrival of a bedraggled young wizard the moment he hauled himself over the threshold, looking a little worse for wear.
James had spent every moment since his arrival, hours previously, trying to get home again. He'd gone back to spot he'd appeared from, finding nothing there but a bored looking official waiting to usher him away. James reckoned he'd done very well not to turn the bloke into frogspawn - he'd have been about as much help that way. After being shooed on, he'd snuck up as close as possible, trying every ward and charm and whatever else he could think of to find a clue. A hint. Anything... All as desperation and panic, so far carefully kept under control, started to claw its way up his chest, wrapping itself like ice around his heart and throat. He'd tried apparating, although he'd known it was hopeless before he'd even stopped spinning and felt the sharp pain of a splinch shoot up his arm. The tip of his left pointer finger was probably even now falling out of the sky somewhere near Cornwall.
It was only hours later, when his head was pounding and his wand arm ached, that he'd given up and slumped against a nearby street corner to finally turn his attention to the muggle phone he'd been given. A barrage of messages came back, all friendly and helpful but still... not enough to steady the frantic thumping in James' chest or the dreadful buzzing in his ears. Eventually, emotionally and physically defeated, James had headed back towards the apartments. An hour's sleep - two tops - and he'd be back on it. That was all he needed, and then he'd get back home. Back to Lily and Harry, whose names pounded through his veins and faces swelled excruciatingly in his mind's eye every time he blinked.
Smothering a yawn with no small degree of frustration, James' hazel gaze landed on a plush armchair that sat vacant in the centre of the sitting room. That would do. Doors and bedrooms seemed like too much effort, especially for a cat nap. Which was definitely all this was. Stumbling forward, he threw himself down into the seat, long legs splayed ungainly out in front of him as he stared unseeingly forward. It was only the sound of a door opening that startled him into whirling around where he sat, his wand suddenly tight in his hand.