Chapter Text
Today is the day.
He would be leaving for university. Leaving behind the only life he knew to make way for a new one.
Today was the day his life truly began.
He pondered this, looking out the window in his room, watching as the sun began to really shine upon the grounds of his childhood home, lighting up the grass, the garden his father works so tentatively on.
He spotted the grave of his childhood dog, Puffin, placed there after the somber affair of his funeral, his mum and dad and the twelve-year-old versions of himself and Barty Crouch Jr., his best friend since grade school, all dressed head to toe in black.
He saw the pieces of wood hanging haphazardly from a tree, remnants from when he, Barty, and their old friend Marlene McKinnon had tried to create a secret base. Marlene moved at the end of grade five, and he never saw her again, but he missed her like mad. He hoped she was well.
He spied an old playhouse, weathered with time, most of its paint rubbed off. His dad wanted to get rid of it, but his mum was vehemently against it. “Memories,” she said. He supposed she was right.
He had spent hours and hours outside with Barty in that playhouse after school. Barty J., he had called him back then. The “J” ended up falling off, too childish, but he never has liked his full name much. Bartemius. It reminded him too much of his father. James didn’t care for it either. It was too harsh to be his friend’s name and too long for the young boy to pronounce properly.
Barty J. though. That was the name of his friend. His best friend. A nice name for a nice boy.
He was harsh, sometimes he was even a little rude, but he didn’t mean it. It was just how he related to the world. He saw his dad take advantage of the world, take advantage of people, so he used his humor to reflect that.
Sometimes he hated that he acted that way, hated that he had anything to do with his father at all, but James always assured him that he was nothing like his father. His father would never worry about being too harsh, about being too like a bad person.
At his core, Barty was a good person, better than James, and James never hesitated to let anyone know that.
He glimpsed pieces of his childhood, the life he was leaving behind, all throughout the yard.
It was very bittersweet, to leave for college.
It’s new opportunities, chances to try new things, meet new people, but it’s also change and leaving behind your childhood.
Change has never been a strong suit of James’, he liked schedules and consistency.
Even still, he was excited. He loved having the opportunity to meet new people and he had always excelled in school, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.
He jumped up and bounded to the kitchen, ready to make breakfast for his mum, dad, and Barty, who had been staying at their house ever since school ended three months ago.
He ran from place to place in the kitchen, cooking multiple things at once. He was an excellent multitasker, but he wasn’t so great at cooking one thing at a time. He couldn’t make toast without burning it, but he could make a full meal to perfection, cooking all of the components at once.
He listened to music lowly while he cooked, bouncing on his toes and humming along.
He danced, sliding his socked feet against the floor, dancing with the beat of the music. He grinned wide at the feeling. There’s never a happier moment for him. He loved cooking and dancing and singing. He loved creating stuff for others. He thinks food tastes better that way. Made with love, he thinks cheesily as he cooks.
He raced to the spare bedroom where Barty was staying, calling his name only a few times before going to jump on the bed.
“Barty. Barty. Barty,” said James, calling his name on each bounce. “Rise and shine,” he said in a singsong.
“Potter, if you don’t stop jumping on this damn bed,” he spoke, voice hoarse from disuse, reaching out blindly for James’ foot.
He grinned meanly when he finally gripped it, pulling until he heard a yelp and felt a pressure beside him.
“That was mean, Barty. And to think I just finished making your favorite breakfast.”
Barty untucked his head from his pillow at that, turning just in time to see James shaking his head in mock disapproval.
“Full English?”
“Full English.”
“Merlin, you’re a saint, James Potter,” he said smacking a loud kiss on James’ forehead before running to the kitchen.
He chuckled to himself and waited a moment before finally getting up.
When he sauntered into the kitchen, Barty was already seated at the island, a half-eaten plate in front of him.
He joined Barty and hesitated for a moment before he began eating. He looked to Barty, staring as he crudely stuffed his face.
When Barty noticed the eyes on him, he looked back.
“What? Do I have something on my face?”
“No.”
“What then?”
“Nothing,” he shook his head.
“Whatever,” he said turning back to his plate.
A moment of silence.
“Barty?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you. You know that?”
“Yeah, you big sap. I know that.”
“Ok,” he said, a small smile playing on his lips.
He turned and finally began to eat his breakfast.
“I love you too.”
He grinned wide at that, abandoning his plate once again to look at Barty.
“Aww, he loves me, he really does,” he exclaimed, turning to pull Barty in a side hug and plant kisses on his cheek.
“Get off, you great git. You see? This is why I don’t say it back,” Barty groaned.
Just then, his mum and dad walked in, having woken up from the commotion.
“What’s all this?”
“Barty loves me, Mum.”
“Eat your food, James,” barked Barty.
“Sir, yes, Sir,” he said with a mock salute, tucking his feet back under the island in front of him. “I made breakfast,” he turned his head slightly to address his parents.
“Thank you, Dear.”
They ate in silence for a while before James broke it. He was never one for quiet. His thoughts were too loud, too much without something to drown them out.
“Have you finished packing?”
“Yeah, I’ve been packed for days. I actually plan ahead, unlike some people,” he said pointedly, looking to James.
“Oi, it’s not my fault. I kept getting distracted,” he defended. “It’s not like I waited until that late anyways.”
“You literally finished packing last night.”
”Slander and lies. All lies.”
Barty simply rolled his eyes in response.
He had, in fact, not finished packing until the night before. Every time he had tried, someone needed help with something else. His dad with dinner or some handy work around the house. Barty with advice or someone to talk to. His mum with baking, which had been happening more often recently as she was a nervous baker.
And he was more than happy to help, don’t misunderstand. He just needed time to do his own things sometimes, and they don’t see how often they need him to help. They don’t realize how little time he has actually had to do anything but sleep and help others.
He didn’t blame them though, of course. Everyone needed help sometimes, and he couldn’t wish for them to notice every time he got a little overwhelmed. That would be a ridiculous expectation for anyone to live up to for anyone, much less for someone like him.
So no, he could deal with it. He got his bags packed eventually, didn’t he?
“Oh, my boys are leaving me,” Effie cried, leaving her plate behind to draw them into a hug.
“My beautiful boys,” she said, planting a kiss on the tops of their heads after she spoke.
“Mum, get off, we’re trying to eat,” James whined, pushing halfheartedly at the woman who had taken care of him all his life.
Sometimes he wondered if it was her fault he was the way he was.
If something happened during childbirth. If he was dropped on his head a few too many times.
Every time the thought crosses his head, guilt overwhelms him to the point he can barely breathe.
He loves his mother, she would never do anything to hurt him. She has always taken the best care of him.
It was his fault he was like that. It always would be.
“I love you, James. You too, Barty. Even if you’re not mine, it doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”
“Yeah, Effie, I love you too,” he mumbled, cheeks turning red with embarrassment. No matter how long he had been coming to James’ house, parental affection would never feel normal to him. It wasn’t something he was granted, not with how his dad had been since he was young, not since his mum had passed.
James punched him lightly on the shoulder, nodding towards his plate.
They returned to the silence after that, finishing up breakfast and helping Effie do the dishes.
When they were done, James followed Barty to his room to watch tv until it was time for them to leave.
“You want to watch tv?” They needed to catch up on the recent show they watched together.
Barty nodded his approval.
“Yeah, we have about an hour before we have to hit the road.”
Their college was eight hours away, and classes started the day after tomorrow, but they wanted to get a head start learning where the buildings were and setting up their dorm room.
They’ve been planning their college life for ages, down to the very minute they would arrive.
•••
An hour later, they were packing their belongings into the car.
Fleamont was helping them, Effie standing nearby trying to hold in her tears.
“Good luck, Lads,” Flea said when all of their belongings were safely packed away in the trunk.
“Goodbye, boys,” Effie said, embracing them, tears finally falling.
Though they really should be going, they let the hug drag on.
Effie’s hugs were the best, firmly pressured without being too restricting, and, though she was shorter than both James and Barty, she still had a way of making you feel like she was the one hugging you rather than the other way around.
They weren’t sure when they’d next get to experience something like that.
“Mum, I love you. We’ll text all the time and call at least once a week.”
“We’re only a train ride away,” Barty chimed in with more reassurance.
”I know, I know. It’s just not the same. I’m going to miss you.”
”It won’t be, will it?” James pondered.
”Enough of that,” Effie said, pulling away from the embrace, wiping her tears, schooling her expression.
”James,” she said, “My beautiful boy, don’t let anyone dull your light. You’ll do great things, I know. Touch the hearts of as many people as you can,” she explained what her expectations for him were as she fruitlessly tried to tame his unruly head of curls.
”Barty,” she moved to stand in from of him, smoothing out his shirt as she spoke, “You are not your father. Don’t let yourself or anyone else convince you otherwise. You are capable, wonderful, and anyone who doesn’t see that isn’t worth your time.
”I know you will both do amazing things. Make me proud.”
”Thanks, Effie,” he said, pulling her into one last hug before they left.
They loaded themselves into the car, ready to begin their new lives, Effie and Monty in their rearview mirror, standing and waving from their spot in the driveway.
James was driving the first stretch, the first five hours or so, before he was to switch off with Barty.
He enjoyed driving. It was a nice distraction, the focus had to be solely on driving or someone might end up dead. No time for straying thoughts.
He loved the quality time of a long car ride, but he found it boring to just sit there with nothing to do.
You didn’t even have space to properly stretch out and sleep.
He blared music through the car, singing along. Barty had been singing too, not a fan of some of the songs, but even he had to admit they were catchy.
He drove like that for a while, just enjoying the music playing softly through the speakers, the sound of the road against his tires, the reassuring sounds of Barty beside him.
He was a bit disappointed when they were approaching the time to stop, quickly switching over seating positions, eager to get back on the road.
As they got back on route, they quickly got settled back in, chatting for a few moments before drifting back into comfortable silence.
As he looked out the window of the car, watching the skyline pass by them in blurs, he thought maybe this could be a new start for him. A chance to be better.
But even as he let himself hope, he knew it wouldn’t be true.
Because that was the reality, wasn’t it?
Nothing would ever be better.
Not with him.
James Potter was a liar.
It was something he always knew, something he always was, something he always would be.
It was unclear to him if anyone else was fooled, after all, he lied so much he grew to be good at it.
He spent his whole life, his every moment, making sure no one saw the real him, making sure no one saw past his facade.
The thought was sickening.
He was a bad person, he was messed up.
He knew that just as surely as he knew that he was barely even a real person, a shell of a being, his entire personality made up to make people see the best in him.
Everything he did was to make people like him. A pathological people pleaser, you could call him.
Every bit of his personality was personally curated to make everyone like him.
He could be quieter if that’s what they needed from him.
He could be louder, wittier, funnier, smarter, anything.
He studied until he could barely stay awake so no one thought he was stupid, so he could help everyone who needed it.
He put his problems aside to make sure he was available to help anyone who needed it.
He stuffed his feelings down deep inside himself, so far down no one could even catch a glimpse of it, sometimes not even himself. He didn’t want to be a burden on anyone.
He did it because he needed to.
He needed to be needed.
And with that resonating thought, he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.
•••
“James. James. James,” Barty called, attempting to wake the sleeping boy next to him.
“James!”
He sat up a blinked wearily.
“Bart…?”
“Wake up. We’re here,” he grinned.
He sat up at that, quickly wiping the sleep from his eyes.
“Let’s go then,” he said, jumping out of the car.
Barty worked on unloading the car while James went inside to get their dorm information.
He came back not five minutes later, raving on about how nice the people there were.
He didn’t stop talking about it until they found their room, too overcome with excitement to finish the conversation.
It was a big dorm, almost resembling a small flat. It had enough room for them to do anything they needed, including cook, with a communal bathroom for their floor right across the hall from them.
He ran into all of the rooms, one after the other, taking in the space.
“Dibs on this room,” he said from the room nearest the kitchen.
The rooms weren’t too spacious, nothing like what he had back at home, but it was nice still.
It had a bed tucked against one wall, a table placed next to it, and a wardrobe on the wall opposite it.
What drew him to the room though, were the walls.
Pale yellow in color with a window with white curtains next to the bed.
It was lovely, a bright, happy color without being too overwhelming, a color anyone could enjoy.
He bet the room looked beautiful in the mornings, the walls reflecting the sunbeams onto each other.
His room for at least the next four years, the home he’s making for himself.
The other room was much the same as his, but the walls were too harsh for him, a dark green, pretty but uninviting.
He rushed out of the room to grab his suitcase, before unceremoniously dumping the contents of it into his bed for sorting.
He began finding homes for each item as he came across them, sorting his clothes by color, decorating his walls with paraphernalia from his childhood.
He was half through the pile when he next heard Barty speak.
“Jamie?” Barty called out through their dorm.
“In here,” he called back from his spot in his room.
“There’s a party tonight. Do you want to go?”
“Yeah, alright.”
“Great. It’s at eight.”
He had to hurry to get ready then, but he couldn’t stop grinning.
His first real opportunity to meet new people.
He couldn’t wait.