James Potter | Harry Potter (potterjpotter) wrote in madisonvalley, @ 2013-12-04 06:29:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log, !open, ~2013 december, ~40 points, ~~james potter (potterjpotter), ~~parker (20lbscrazy) |
WHO: James Potter and OPEN
WHAT: Having Breakfast with a little side of magic
WHEN: Wednesday morning
WHERE: The Bakery
WARNINGS: TBD
STATUS: Open/Ongoing
James had only been stuck in muggle America for several days now, but he was already unimpressed. His best friend was acting all kinds of weird, and Lily had shown up without Harry. And, of course, blaming him for it. Like he'd leave their son home along without supervision. Of course, everything he'd heard about this place led him to believe that they'd return home the exact second they left...which meant that Harry'd never really be alone. Which was good, of course. Smart and precocious as the kid was, he was still only fifteen months, and James was pretty sure he'd have problems fixing himself a sandwich. Or, you know, eating it.
He wasn't sure what to make of all the Blacks arriving, either. He had Black blood in him - his mother was a Black - but he wasn't officially included in the tally. Thank Merlin. He had no desire to be part of that kind of dysfunction - he'd seen plenty enough of that second hand with Sirius. Rich? They might be. Fucked up? They definitely were.
He'd gotten lucky in the biological shuffle, actually. Born to talented pureblood wizards that weren't mental headcases, he'd gotten the best of both worlds. Money, prestige, proper bloodlines - without the misery and familial torture that most usually went through to get it. Just another way it was freaking awesome to be James Potter.
The morning found him at a little bakery whose smells as he walked by had been as impossible to resist as an imperius curse. Really, he hadn't had any choice. Not at going inside, and not at buying half a dozen hot doughnuts from the blonde muggle boy at the counter covered in flour. He'd gotten himself a cup of tea (bloody shitty tea), and sat by the window to watch the sun rise. James Potter was not usually much of a morning person. Really, he was kind of the opposite of a morning person. He usually only saw the sunrise if he was still up, and it was generally the warning that class was massively going to suck today. But since Harry'd been born, his sleep had gotten really wrecked, and what little of it he could get, he took when he could.
A moment later, James caught himself, realizing he'd been nodding off. For how long? He took a sip of his tea, horrified to find that it was cold. Looking around him to make sure he wasn't being observed, he touched his wand to his tea and whispered a spell that had it steaming again in seconds. It was still bloody awful, but at least it was hot and bloody awful.
"How do the Americans expect to be good at anything if they can't even make a proper cup of tea?"