Limerence | A James & Lily Story

Toxic

     "Prongs?" A voice calls out, echoing off the walls, shattering the silence and crashing through my mind. I make no move to get off of my position on the floor. The cool stone floors of the Hogwarts' kitchens are actually decently comfortable. Well, when you have a certain amount of alcohol in your system they are.

     "Prongs?" I bring the bottle of fire whiskey to my lips and tip it back, relishing in the burn it brings to my throat.

     "Prongs?" The ceiling is beginning to blur, and it pleases me. I bring the bottle back to my lips, downing the remainder of the drink, wanting nothing more than for everything to go away. To forget. To not feel. I toss the bottle to the side, no longer in need of it.

     "Merlin, James." I don't look at my friends. "What the hell have you done?" The smell of cigarette smoke enters the room with the arrival of my friends. I fill a longing for a cigarette annoying and persistent, like an itch that needs to be scratched. I had made good on not smoking since Lily made her feelings toward the habit clear, but what's the point, right?

     I yank the lid off of a new bottle and raise it to my lips, taking a large pull, no longer feeling the burn. "KNOCKY!" The sound of yelling is slightly muffled, and I don't have to look to know that Sirius has a cigarette in between his teeth. 

     I hear the hurried patting of bare feet making contact with stone. The sound that could only belong to a house elf running to answer a demand. "Yes, Mr. Black?" 

     "Knocky," Sirius says in a hurried voice. "How much has James had?"

     "That's his third bottle, sir," Knocky whispers.

     Sirius lets out a sigh, and the smell of smoke becomes stronger. "Thank you, Knocky," Remus answers.

     Footsteps echo again, and I know Knocky has left my best mates to deal with me. "Prongs?" Peter prods. "Are you okay?"

     "I'm just swell, Wormy," my words come out slightly slurred, but even underneath the sloppy words, the sarcasm persists. "Peachy really."

     "James," Remus adds in a careful voice. "We need to go, okay? We'll take you back to the dorm."

     "You guys can go," I spit. "I'm staying here." I lift the bottle again. This long pull of fire whiskey causes the edges of my vision to blur even more, and I welcome it. My head is starting to feel very heavy, and my blood purrs with the presence of the alcohol.

     "Can I have a cigarette?" I ask, my voice taking on a dreamy like tone.

     "I thought you quit," Remus answers. I only lift my shoulders in return.

     "No," he says firmly. "You don't need cigarettes and alcohol."

     "What the fuck do we do?" Sirius demands in a hurried whisper. I can't see him, but I imagine he is gesturing with his hands wildly and tugging his hair like he always does when he's agitated. There's a sound like a mild crunch, and I know he has thrown down his cigarette, stomping it out, too distracted to smoke.

     "We could drag him back," Pete suggests.

     "We can't," answers Remus. "He won't go quietly, and we are long past the days when we could all fit under that blasted cloak." I hear quiet footsteps in a very steady rhythm. One-two-three-four-swish. Remus is pacing; what a surprise.

     "Moony," Sirius says. "You don't have to be under the cloak. You can just say you have prefect duties or patrolling or something. Still, fitting all three of us under there is going to be rather difficult." He trails off, probably trying to think of some plan to get me to go quietly. Not going to happen.