Chapter Text
James sighs as he dips into the lake. The water is rather cold this time of year, but it still feels amazing against his skin. After the week he had, that bath is more than needed.
Sweat and dust washes off in the clear water, leaving a little dark cloud behind that gets washed away by the current. His muscles slowly relax, even in the cold water. He slept curled up in a cluster of bushes last night. Not bad compared to other places he slept in, but also not ideal to not feel the aftermath of it in his bones.
Closing his eyes, James dips down completely into the icy water. For a glorious moment the world is muffled and made of nothing but bubbles. He gives his hair a scrub too, trying and failing to get the tangled mess to behave a little better. At least most of the tiny sticks and leaves trapped in his curls get washed away.
Only when his lungs slowly start to burn from the lack of oxygen, James breaks the surface again. Cold water runs down his face and gathers in droplets on his glasses, but just for a moment. The magic he put there for Quidditch matches in the rain takes hold and the water slides off, leaving the lenses spotless. He could have taken off his glasses for his bath, but that would mean seeing shit for a while and James really can't have that in his current situation. He needs to be vigilant.
Constant vigilance.
Moody's voice echoes in James' ears. He hopes the old bugger made it out okay of the hell London has become when the Ministry fell into Death Eater hands. James can't believe that happened less than a week ago. It feels like he's on the run forever.
He hopes Remus made it out too and can find a good spot for the next full moon, somewhere safe. He hopes Peter is okay. He hopes they are together and can protect each other.
He would send out a Patronus to check in on them, but that didn't work out so great the first time he tried it. Somehow the Death Eaters managed to figure out a way to track a Patronus back to its source. James only barely managed to escape when they came for him out of nowhere. It's too risky to try it again and not only give away his own position, but potentially the ones of his friends as well.
James sighs again. What a shitshow this world has become.
He scoops up a bit more cold water between his cupped hands and bends his head down to give his hair another attempt of a rinse, only for a curse to narrowly miss him and hit the tree just behind him on the shore of the lake instead. James' head snaps up, his body instinctively moving to the other side. It's the same instincts he used on the Quidditch field to avoid getting hit by bludgers.
It's good that his training is still working even years out of Hogwarts, his Quidditch reflexes still as sharp as in his school days, because his quick sidestep is all that saves him from being hit by another curse.
There is movement between the trees. It's more than one person. Now that they have opened fire on James, they aren't concerned with being quiet anymore.
Cursing under his breath, James tries to get to his wand stuck behind rocks and spongy moss for easy access. Turns out the access is not so easy now that he would really need it. Two more curses hit the side of the lake, one of them flashing green.
Fuck.
As much as it hurts, the wand will have to wait. It's better not to draw too much attention to where exactly James put the precious instrument and come back for it later when the Snatchers have moved on. He scrambles out of the water, stumbling over stones and tree roots as quickly as he can to get himself out of here.
Another figure steps out from behind the trees. One in a silver mask.
James doesn't wait around much longer. He runs for the treeline and slips into the forest. Another curse flies over his head but James is faster. The curse hits a pine tree, just as James' human form slips away and Prongs emerges.
In his stag form, it's even easier to be fast. Prongs slips between the trees effortlessly, running as fast as the wind. He jumps over fallen trees without slowing down, while his pursuers have a much harder time.
Prongs can hear them crashing through the undergrowth, but the noise quickly falls behind. They are shouting at each other, still searching for a human, until their calls fade away completely.
Prongs chuckles inwardly to himself and jumps over another log. He lands light in a mossy clearing. Time to circle back and get that wand.
He turns around and slips back between the trees, then builds up speed again.
He runs, leaves brushing against his antlers as he passes under dense trees.
Another jump.
And sudden, blinding pain.
Prongs stumbles and goes down with a crash.
White, hot pain shoots up his right hind leg. Blood sprays. Something crunches.
It's agony.
Prongs tries to get up, but fails. Panic settles in when he looks down. The sharp, metal teeth of a hunting trap are buried in the flesh of his leg, deep and painful. Blood runs freely. The leg is at an odd angle.
Prongs whines. His heart pounds in his chest and black spots appear in front of his eyes.
Panic consumes him. If they find him now...
He tries for a solution, for a clear and logical thought. How can he get himself out of his without his wand?
Maybe shifting back into his human form will help. It will be painful for sure, but at least it will give him hands to work with. Thumbs. Something to get that trap open. Once that is gone, he'll see about the damage the trap has done to his leg.
Prongs takes a deep breath and concentrates. The shift takes hold of his body, but only for a moment.
Blinding pain tears through him and before he can do anything else, the world goes black.
“I've got you.”
A voice drifts through the blurry murkiness that is his mind. Everything hurts. Prongs tries to move, to get away from the pain.
“Don't move.” The voice is gentle, even when hands hold the painful leg down, restricting his movements. Prongs wants to kick out in panic, but all he manages is a feeble twitch of his front leg.
“I've got you,” the voice says again and Prongs snorts. The voice gives a little chuckle. “I know it doesn't feel like it right now, but you'll be fine.”
Something moves. Another wave of blinding pain. Prongs lets out a keening sound as the world fades again into nothingness.
“I've got you.”
The next time Prongs wakes, the ground beneath his body is different. It's not made of dirt and leaves and stone. It's much softer. It smells different too, not of the rich scents of the forest.
Blinking heavy eyes open, he tries to look around. There are no trees. Instead, he looks at the bottom half of a couch and the legs of a table. He's on the floor on a nest of blankets. His head lies on a small throw pillow.
He's inside of a room.
Which means he's inside a house.
How did he get here?
He needs to get up. He needs to get out of here. He needs to get back to his wand.
Prongs struggles to lift his head and get his front legs underneath himself. When he puts weight on the hurt hint leg, pain shoots through it like a lightning bolt.
A sound escapes him before he can bite it back. The world blurs and sways.
For the first time since he was a teenager and learned how to be an Animagus, James loses his grip on Prongs. The stag slips through his fingers, even if he desperately tries to hold on. The change runs through him, unstoppable and with more force and less control than James had in years.
He's pretty sure he would vomit all over the pretty carpet if he had any food in his stomach right now.
Panting, James tries to focus, tries to settle back into his human skin. His shoulder feels a little bruised, probably from the way he landed on it when he fell. The blood on his leg is gone and it doesn't look broken anymore. He has a bandage on it, but it's sitting uncomfortably tight now. James reaches for it with still uncooperative fingers that haven't forgotten yet that they were hooves just moments ago.
“What the fuck?”
James wipes his head around to the voice coming from the door to the living room. There is a man standing there, grey eyes wide as he stares at James.
It only takes a moment for the surprise in them to be replaced by something else, something darker. A wand gets drawn before James can even utter a word. In two steps the man has crossed the small room and stands directly in front of him.
“Who the fuck are you? What are you doing here?”
James swallows hard. The tip of the wand is uncomfortably close to his neck, forcing James to look up at the man from where he's sitting in the blanket nest on the floor. “You brought me here, I assume. So it's not really my fault I'm here.”
Grey eyes narrow even more. The grip on his wand tightens.
Maybe James should watch his tongue a little. Who knows how trigger-happy that guy is and if it comes to a fight, it won't be one that can easily turn in James' favour, since he's still missing his own wand.
His wand and his clothes. It's just James' lucky day to find himself naked at the end of a stranger's wand once again. At least this one seems to be alone so far.
Slowly, James moves his hand to the side to grope blindly for the throw pillow, while his eyes never leave the man in front of him. No quick movements.
“Are you one of them?” the stranger asks. It almost sounds like a growl.
James frowns. “One of who?”
“One of those Death Eaters.” The title gets spit out like it tastes foul on the stranger's tongue. That's at least something they can agree on.
“No.” James finally manages to grab the throw pillow and pulls it into his lap for at least a resemblance of modesty. He's pretty sure the stranger has seen it all already, but it makes James feel a little better to not sit there at his feet with the wrong kind of wand out for the occasion. Having every other bit of his skin still on display is humiliating enough as it is.
Not that James would complain about in a very different context. Even if the stranger is still glaring at him, he is awfully pretty.
“Then who the hell are you?”
James puts on his most charming smile and holds out his hand that doesn't keep the throw pillow in place. “James Potter.”
The stranger blinks at him, a little thrown by James' absolute audacity. Before he can stop himself from the polite response James was hoping for, he has taken up James' hand to shake it.
James grins and pulls. His good leg shoots out, tripping the man for good measure.
It only takes a few seconds. The pain shooting through James' bad leg is well worth it, since he's gaining the upper hand and a wand in one go. Straddling the stranger on the floor, James grins down at him, his own wand held against his neck. “Now we can talk, pretty boy.”
The stranger glares up at him, no doubt thinking about his next move and how to throw James off without catching any curses.
“You're not a fan of the Death Eaters either, I gather?” James asks in a sweet tone of polite conversation, as if they would just sit over tea.
“No,” is the only reply James gets.
“Not a Voldemort fanboy?”
The glare James receives is even worse than any of the others he got before. “Absolutely not.”
“Great!” James grins even wider. “You've got a name, pretty boy?”
This time he gets no answer at all. James pokes the tip of his stolen wand just a tiny bit into the side of the stranger's neck, making him tilt his head a little more. Still, the stranger refuses to say anything.
“Well,” James shrugs. “Seems like I have to keep calling you pretty boy –“
“Sirius.”
James smirks down at him and lowers the wand once more. “Sirius. I really appreciate that you've helped me. Thanks for that.”
“I have no regrets about that whatsoever,” Sirius says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. His eyes, though, betray him as they dip down James' naked chest. He snatches them away just as quickly, a slight bit of pink dusting his cheeks. “Do Animagi usually lose all of their clothes when they transform?”
“Only the ones that ran into a bit of trouble with Death Eaters,” James admits. “You wouldn't have a pair of spare trousers lying around that you could lend me?”
“You'd have to let me get up for that.”
James looks down at Sirius, considering. “I would really appreciate it if you could wait with kicking my arse until I wear some pants.”
Sirius sighs. “I might even wait until I have checked your leg, just to make sure you didn't absolutely fuck up my hard work.”
“I wouldn't say no to a break for a cup of tea either,” James says and rolls off Sirius into the pile of blankets on the floor so the man can get up. He's keeping Sirius' wand, though. He's not a complete idiot. “I would take biscuits too, if you have them.”
He tries not to sound too hopeful.
Judging by the look Sirius gives him as he's getting up from the floor, he's totally failing at it. “Fine,” Sirius says as he moves to the door without turning his back on James even once. “Trousers first, then tea.”
Fifteen minutes later, James doesn't care too much that he must look like a starving child, stuffing his face with biscuits. At least he's wearing trousers now, a pair that is too big on him and doesn't look like it would fit Sirius either. But the drawstring keeps them in place, even if they are sitting low on James' hips, and it doesn't put extra pressure on the redressed wound on James' leg, so he can't really complain too much, even if he's still shirtless. One piece of clothing was all he was able to get out of Sirius right now.
Which is fine, since biscuits are higher on the list of James' priorities at the moment anyway.
“When did you last eat?” Sirius asks eventually from where he sits across from James on the kitchen table, his own mug of tea between his hands and a frown on his pretty face.
James shrugs and brushes crumbs off his fingers. “Two days ago, I think.”
At least in human form. He had some grass as Prongs, that helps to keep going.
Sirius' frown deepens. “You said you ran into trouble with Death Eaters?”
James nods and picks up his tea to wash down the biscuits. “Took a bath and they and their Snatcher buddies surprised me, which is why I had to run without my clothes.”
“You're muggle-born?” Sirius asks, his fingertip casually brushing along the rim of his mug.
“No, but they are still obsessed with me.” James grins and picks up another biscuit. There are only a few left now on the nice plate with the flowery pattern.
“So you ran into trouble with them before?”
“Multiple times.”
“That must make life a lot harder for you now that the Ministry has fallen under Voldemort's rule.”
It doesn't go unnoticed that Sirius used Voldemort's name instead of going for the whole You-Know-Who thing, which is interesting. “It makes life harder for a lot of people.”
Sirius nods. “True.” Silence spreads in the kitchen, but not for long. “Are you planning to go back for your things? I'm guessing your wand is still with your clothes since your attire didn't leave many places to put it.”
James looks at Sirius over the rim of his tea mug. “You know you're asking an awful lot of questions?”
Sirius smiles at him, but it just makes him look more dangerous. “I'm just trying to be a good host and get to know you.”
“Sure.” James brushes the new crumbs off his fingertips and reaches for Sirius' wand that lies on the table right next to him. The wand might not even work for James, but he still feels better with the warm wood under his palm. He can still poke Sirius' pretty eyes out with it if he needs to.
Of course Sirius isn't bothered by the threat or stopped from asking more questions. “Where will you go after that?”
James huffs and rolls his eyes. “As if I would tell you.”
“I just want to know if you need help.” Sirius leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest, his eyes flicking up and down James' body. “More help than getting a pair of trousers so you won't get arrested for public indecency and a full pack of biscuits.”
The last biscuit is lying on the plate between them like a taunt. “I'm fine.” James says with another huff. “I'm a big boy, I can look after myself.”
Sirius raises one eyebrow at him. “I don't know about big. Mid, maybe,” he says with a smirk.
“I can recommend glasses since your eyesight clearly needs improvement,” James says with an answering smirk.
“Magnifying glasses, you mean?”
“Hey!” James protests, his cheeks heating up a little, but Sirius holds up a hand to stop him before he can really get into it.
“Don't get us off track with your dick again, James. Let's focus on the big and important things.”
James glowers at Sirius. “You think you're very clever.”
“I usually am.”
“And yet here I sit with your wand.” James gives said wand a little spin between his fingers. It's a really nice wand, actually. Feels good in his hand, about the size of his own. Gorgeous dark wood. Well-kept. “Maybe I'm the clever one here.”
“Is there any chance you're going up north, Mr Clever?”
James tries to school his expression into something innocent and clueless. Judging by his school days, he's not very good at it. Still, it's worth a try. “Why would I?” he asks and takes another big gulp of his tea to stop himself from saying anything more.
Sirius hums, his grey eyes still on James like he's trying to figure out what the core of his soul is made of. “You might be looking for a phoenix.”
James nearly chokes on his drink. He looks at Sirius with watering eyes, blinking away tears as he coughs and sputters. “A what now?”
“Phoenix,” Sirius says again. “You're from the Order, aren't you?”
James' eyes narrow. His fingers tighten around the mug, ready to throw it if he needs to buy himself some time for a quick escape. He can make it to the door, he's pretty sure of that. Only then he'll try the wand. Better to have the way clear in case it doesn't work or blows up completely. “What if I am?”
Sirius leans forward in his seat and settles his elbows on the table. “Then we seem to have the same goal in mind.”
“And what would that be?”
There is an eager glint in Sirius' eyes, like even the vague mention of the Order has kindled a new fire inside of him. “Get to Dumbledore, regroup, then take down Voldemort.”
James can't help but laugh. “You make it sound easy. If you'd have been in the Order for the last couple of years –”
“I've been in the Order for the past five years,” Sirius cuts across James' words. “I know things aren't ideal, especially now with the Ministry gone, but with a bit of luck we can turn it around, I'm sure of it.”
James narrows his eyes at Sirius. “If you've been part of the Order for that long, how come I've never seen you before?”
“Special mission. I've been moving around a lot,” Sirius says with an easy shrug. “Look, the way I see it, it's rather easy. I need to get to Dumbledore and so do you. You know how to find him, but you've already proven that you're a disaster when it comes to travelling alone. I have a lot of experience on how to get from one point to the other without dying.”
James looks at him, at that pretty stranger with maybe a little too much hope and conviction on his side. “What exactly are you saying?”
Sirius looks back at him like it's the most logical thing in the world. “You've just got yourself a travel companion, James Potter.”