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chapter fifteen;
the full moon bruises
It was safe to say James was friends with Amaya Santoro—better yet the witch trusted him. That was his biggest accomplishment of the week.
And perhaps she didn't trust him fully—not yet—but he would make sure she would. He would take whatever she gave him and cherish it, and the day he broke Amaya's trust would be the day he lost his sense of self.
And he would make sure he would earn her full trust. But first, he had to learn bloody Occlumency. Apparently, Amaya's mission was so imperative for the war that he needed to learn how to hide what he knew if he were ever attacked.
But he did note she told him anyway, perhaps not everything but he knew the gist of it. She told him what a Horcrux was, what bloody sickening things You-Know-Who was up to, and that they needed to find a way to destroy the Horcruxes (and find them, though in that area he only knew about the founder's artifacts).
So that's how he found himself, holed up in the library, sitting, or more so reclining, on an armchair, legs stretched out on the ground, and trying to focus on one of the tomes Dumbledore had given Amaya, trying being the keyword.
The truth was, most of the words he was reading were convoluted sentences regarding Horcruxes that seemed to always dance around how to create or destroy one, and instead focus on the abhorrent people who'd tried to create Horcruxes or the consequences of their actions. But it wasn't just the tedious book that was to fault for his lack of focus—Amaya was at fault for some of it too.
She was lying stomach down on the couch, the little burgundy journal her father had given her floating next to her as she scribbled notes in her notebook. Her head was turned to him, and now and then her eyes would stray from either the journal or the notebook and they'd land on him.
If he was already looking at her (which he was most of the time) she would blush faintly and look away, or, and amusingly so, she'd scowl at him and tell him to work and stop staring at her, "Take a picture, it'll last longer, " she'd told him. And much to her annoyance he had, he'd summoned a camera his parents had and snapped a picture of her, and his heart had skipped a beat when she laughed to the camera in resignation and rolled her eyes.
Sometimes, though, he'd find her looking at him when he wasn't looking at her, the feeling of her eyes on him had his blood rush hot, and soon his t-shirt seemed suffocating.
It was because of this, and the fact that he was focused on the research, finally doing something that was working towards the end of the war, that when James looked down at his wristwatch, his eyes widened.
"Bloody hell," he groaned as he stood up from the armchair, making Amaya glance up from her notebook, the pencil she had in her hand falling limp.
"What's wrong?"
He paused with a grimace, looking back at his watch—he was so focused on Amaya and her research that he'd lost track of time and was supposed to be at Lupin Cottage right about that moment. Today was the full moon and he had to be there for Remus. "The boys and I, we planned to go out and I'm late—"
"Today? Tonight?" Amaya asked with a frown and James nodded, as he snatched up his wand.
"I'm so sorry, but I really have to go," he said with an apologetic smile and dropped a kiss on her cheek with a, "Have a good night, darling," before he raced out the door.
It was only when he was dropping the floo powder that he realized what he'd done.
He could still feel her soft skin on his lips, reminding him of the hug they shared in the dorms. He was just comforting her then, but somehow, having her in his arms felt right—he shook himself out of those thoughts, as he felt a flush crawl up his neck, just before he was whisked away into the Floo Network.
The moment he got to Lupin Cottage he found Peter sitting in the living room chatting with Mr. Lupin, the latter who looked like an older version of Remus, with a lot less hair, and plumper face, but just as tall if not more. The second Mr. Lupin saw him, he gave James a polite smile, "Hullo, Potter, care for some tea?" he asked.
Mr. Lupin was the only one who knew about the three of them being Animagi. In truth it was hard to hide it from him after graduating as Remus was using the shack already set up with wards around it, a few miles away from the cottage, and James, Sirius, and Peter refused to let him go through a full moon alone.
Mr. Lupin didn't know what they were, but he'd connected the dots, and despite not being Remus' biggest fan, especially when it came down to his lycanthropy, Lyall Lupin respected what they did for his son, though with a dash of apprehension, and had agreed to a vow on his magic not to tell on them to the Ministry.
"Not today, I'm afraid, Mr. Lupin," said James with an apologetic smile before turning to Peter, "Where's Remus and Sirius?"
"They're already headed to the shack," said Peter, standing up, "I said I'd wait for you."
"Thanks, Wormy." James grinned.
Soon, they'd wish goodbye to Mr. Lupin, who was headed to bed, and started trekking the path down to the shack through the dark woods. The sun was already setting, and it wouldn't be long before Remus started his transformation, which meant when James and Peter got closer to the shack they'd have to shift into their Animagus form.
"Why were you late?" asked Peter.
"Amaya needed me."
Peter didn't respond for a moment, but James could've sworn he saw his friend roll his eyes. He frowned.
"Needed you for what?"
James scratched the back of his neck, and shrugged nonchalantly as he answered, "Her task."
Jaw slackening, Peter looked up at him with eyes shining with excitement. "Her task? Bloody hell, what is it then, Prongs?"
Clicking his tongue, James shook his head. "Sorry, Wormy. Can't tell you. I'm sworn by secrecy."
"Of course, you are."
"It's an important mission, Pete, I can't just go around blabbing about it."
"I'm your friend. "
"And as my friend you should get why I'm not telling you," said James in disbelief. Peter pursed his lips as he went quiet, only shrugging in response. James narrowed his eyes. "What's the matter, Pete?"
"Nothing."
And so James dropped it. What mattered most at the moment was getting Remus through the night in the most peaceful way they could. Only as they neared the cottage and stopped ready to shift, Peter spoke up.
"Do you fancy her or something?"
"What?"
"Amaya," he said, "Do you fancy her?"
James paused, words lacking him, and had Peter asked him that question a few days ago he would've probably said no. Now he wasn't so sure.
But whether he liked Amaya or not didn't matter, she didn't need anything else to weigh her down. And James was happy to just be a friend she could lean on, perhaps someone to help with some of her load—it didn't matter whether he fancied her because he couldn't very well do anything about it.
"Why?" James asked instead.
Peter rolled his eyes. And then he shifted, turning into a rat, and scattered away, James not far behind as he too shifted, only instead of shrinking down, he expanded in size, as he turned into a stag and raced after Wormtail.
James stumbled out of the floo with a hiss, he could feel bruises starting to form and his body was so sore he just wanted to go to sleep and not wake up until the afternoon.
He could already see the sun rising through the windows, and usually he would've stayed with the boys and helped Remus back to the flat, but Amaya was alone in the Manor and he wanted to make sure she was fine, perhaps even catch her before her morning run.
Only he froze by the living room when he spotted her sprawled on the couch, her bare legs stretched out beyond her as she snuggled against the pillows her book forgotten on the floor.
James had found, during the time he'd met her, that Amaya Santoro was a slow reader. Especially when she liked paying attention to every single word in a book, which was the case with rare specific good books she liked (those of which included ones from a muggle author called Agatha Christie, "but not the ones with the nosey lady," she would tell him, "just the ones with the Belgian detective, Hercule Poirot").
His lips tugged up and James snatched a quilt from the end of the couch, and covered her with it, only when he moved his shoulder he had to bite back a groan. She shifted on the couch as the fabric hit her body and slowly turned, blinking up at him, her freckled nose scrunching up slightly.
"Where were you?" she asked, her voice raspy in the morning as she sat up looking confused. "I was waiting for you and—Is that blood?"
"No?" said James, unsure, he hadn't looked at the mirror before coming home.
Amaya gaped at him as she scrambled to her feet. "That's not a question you answer with another question," she said before grabbing his face in her hands, warmer than they usually were, her thumb brushing against a cut on his cheek that made him wince. "Were you in a brawl?"
"No—" He stopped talking as he felt a sting where the wound on his face was (probably caused by a particularly big splinter in the shack); but the sting was there and gone, replaced by a warm feeling like the one he had when she took away his drunkenness, he figured she'd healed him.
And he had half a mind to ask her to heal his bruises too—if only to have her hands all over him—but he didn't want her to worry. Besides his other mind, the tired one, was just focused on how awfully close they were at the moment.
"Where were you?" she asked again, taking her hands away from his face, but not stepping back.
"I was—I," he was at a loss for words. The last thing he wanted was to lie to her but he couldn't go around divulging his best friend's secrets. "You were waiting for me?" he asked instead with a smirk and Amaya rolled her eyes at him.
"James—" She cut herself off, her eyes zeroing in on his stomach covered by a white t-shirt, where even he could spot the blemishes on his skin through the fabric. Without saying anything she lifted his shirt and gasped at the nasty purple bruises forming.
"You don't have to be so shocked, darling, I know I'm fit—"
"You're hurt—mierda ." She shook her head at him and James was more confused than ever. "Why didn't I connect the fucking dots?"
"I'm not sure I follow. Care to connect them for me?"
Her lips twitched up and she was still shaking her head. "Sit down and take off your shirt, Potter."
His eyebrows raised to his hairline. She rolled her eyes.
"I need to heal you."
"You don't need to—"
"Of course I do. You're hurt. And don't worry as soon as I'm done with you, you're taking me to Sirius's and Remus's flat so I can heal them too."
"What?" he asked, confused as he sat down, taking off his shirt like she'd told him to, before looking up at her smiling face, looking at him like he was an adorable idiot.
"You're good friends to him," she said as she fell to her knees in front of him, making James gulp, as he looked up, not wanting to see the witch in such a position when all he wanted was to—"Remus must love having company during the full moon."
Realization dawned on him and James looked at her eyes with a shake of his head. "Of course you know, you incredible witch."
A faint blush covered her cheeks. James stopped breathing altogether as he felt the phantom of her touch on his lower abdomen, the feeling of the bruise there healing, the feeling of his blood rushing elsewhere and he just hoped Amaya wouldn't look further down as he started recounting every ingredient for a Sleeping Draught in his head.
"James?"
His eyes, which had been staying on a specific spot on the ceiling where the paint was chipped off snapped to hers and he flushed at her amused face. "What was that?"
"You're incredible friends," she finally answered. "Remus is lucky."
He let out a shaky breath, feeling her hands graze over his ribs, the chill touch of her magic relieving him of the pain of the bruises, and he hoped, he prayed to Merlin and anyone who'd listen, that her gaze stayed above his waist.
"We're the ones who're lucky," he said. "Without Remus, we would've been dead come the First Year."
"And in turn, you three became Animagi to help him. I'd wager that's a fair trade," she said with a smile and James found himself smiling back. She laughed. "A bunch of animals."
"Well, I'm a stag, Maya. I'm a pretty majestic animal."
She hummed in response, not an exact reaction but he was starting to learn her tells and she usually didn't show her opinions when they would favor him. He grinned down at her and then looked back up at the ceiling when she put her hand on his thigh as she pushed herself up. She started healing his bruised shoulder.
"I'm guessing Sirius is a black dog, then. I don't know what Peter is though."
He snorted out a laugh at her correct guess of Padfoot. "Peter's a rat."
"Oh," Amaya said, her smile verging on a grimace and James let out a laugh. "Does he need healing too?"
"I don't think so. He's far too small to get thrown around."
And as they fell into a comforting silence, James found himself grazing his fingers against the back of her thighs, a soft touch, barely even there, and when she didn't tell him to stop, merely met his eyes for a moment and kept on healing him, he didn't, but he didn't push for more than featherlight grazes against her skin either.
"I forgot about the full moon," she said, breaking the silence, as she finished on his last bruise, and he looked up at her hypnotized, "and I didn't see Remus before it. But I supposed I wouldn't have remembered either way, with the Lagrimas de la Luna you can hardly really see—"
"The what now?"
"Oh, I suppose here they'd have another name. Moon Tears, perhaps?" James shook his head and Amaya frowned as she hesitantly placed her hands on his shoulders, looking down at him. "You know? The drops a werewolf takes before the full moon? To hone in the effects of it?"
"That exists?"
Amaya paled. "Remus doesn't take them?"
James softly shook his head. "Us turning into Animagi was the only solution we could find to make things more bearable for him."
"Ay Dios mio, he's been in pain and you didn't tell me?!"
And without waiting for a response, Amaya slipped out of his grasp and raced out of the living room. She showed up moments later with her shoes on, still in pajamas, but with a blue flask in her hand. "Come on, we need to go to the flat."
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