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My Favourite Part of Yoga


Dear Evans,
Been thinking about the day we watched Doctor Who and how we snogged on the couch and I’m curious if, as a result, you’d think of sitting with me on the Express to Hogwarts, perhaps? I’m okay with it if you want to snog on the train, I think a bit of train snogging might pass the time on the long ride North in a more exciting way than playing about with Sirius and the lads might do and ---

That draft was in the trash, right along side another draft that read:

Evans -
I can’t wait to kiss you more. We’re going to Diagon Alley on Saturday and I was hoping perhaps we might see you there and I could maybe buy you ice cream at Fortescue’s and perhaps snog a bit more? I mean, really, we owe it to the universe. When kissing is as good as it was for us the other day, I mean, c’mon. That was bloody incredible, yeah? Who are we to deny the universe witness to such fucking incredible snogging? Seriously, Evans, Zeus would strike us down for sure if we didn’t continue on with --

The version that went out the window, tied about an owl’s leg, was much simpler:

Evans,
Hope you’re well. Dad’s home from Mungo’s, feeling much better than he was. Thanks for listening to me before. I appreciated it. We’re going to Diagon Alley on Saturday. Perhaps we could meet there? I wouldn’t mind seeing you again. Have you had the raspberry fizz ice cream at Fortescue’s? I think of you each time I see it on the menu there. Perhaps you’ll let me buy you a cup? It doesn’t need to be raspberry, you can pick the flavor. Any flavor you like. Even a Knickerbocker Glory if you prefer that over a cup. Literally anything you want Evans. Let me know by owl. If not, I’ll just look for you on the Hogwarts Express next week. Unless you don’t want me to. Either way. Just let me know.
J. P.


Potter,
I’ve never had the raspberry fizz. I’d love to try it. Saturday, you say? See you at Fortescue’s. Will Sirius and Remus be coming as well? Just curious. About one o’clock, perhaps? Unless you’ve made other plans. If you’ve made other plans, I’ll see you on the Express. Either way. Just let me know, too.
Lily


Hullo Evans,
One o’clock sounds spectacular. Remus and Sirius have other plans. See you at Fortescue’s.
James


See you at Fortescue’s.
Lily.




Sirius stared at the letter.

James reached over the top of the parchment to point. “Look how she’s signed it. Look at that L on Lily. How it’s all loopy and flourished and the like??” James traced his finger over the loops. “What sort of L do you think it is? Do you reckon that’s an I love you, I can’t wait to see you again and snog your face off sort of L or do you think that’s a I’ll humor you because I get free ice cream and let you down gently in public so you can’t cry about it sort of L?”

Sirius pushed the letter back into James’s hand. “I think it’s a you’re fucking insane Potter sort of L. Stop over analyzing her bleedin’ letter and just go to Fortescue’s. If you snog, you snog. If not, at least you haven’t got your hopes all up over nothing.”

“But it’s an especially curvy L, don’t you agree?”

“She might’ve sneezed while making it, Prongs, you can’t tell what a girl’s thinking by how she flourishes her L. Girls are way too advanced for that rubbish.” Sirius stretched, turning his torso - James had interrupted his yoga for this, and he clearly wasn’t going away, so Sirius decided to just start doing his thing again before his muscles wound back up. “For instance, sometimes Remus makes a loop of the back of his R and sometimes it’s a straight line. Does he do one when he’s happy and one when he’s sad? No. It’s just sometimes his damn wrist does it one way and sometimes it doesn’t. Simple as that.”

“Well what if he does do it different depending on his mood? What if you just haven’t noticed?” James challenged.

Sirius paused and stared at James. “Prongs. Remus Lupin had one hundred and twenty three scars. He had fourteen moles on his back and one on his jaw just by his ear. His nose is exactly the length of my index finger to my second knuckle and he pronounces the word chocolate like it’s something that you write with on a blackboard. Chawlkkk-lit. When his eyes are honey coloured, he’s nervous.” He raised an eyebrow. “If he looped his goddamned R’s when he was sad or happy or something, I would bloody notice it.”

James sighed.

“And if he looped it when he wanted to snog me,” Sirius said, bending over and grabbing onto his ankles, “He’d loop it twenty-four fucking hours a day.”

James glanced at the porch, where Remus was peering over the book he was reading again.

James murmured, “Well. He’d certainly be looping it right now.”

Sirius glanced between his knees at the upside down image of the house and the porch and Remus Lupin staring, and, realizing he was being caught at it, he pushed the book back over his face so fast he hit himself in the nose and Sirius snorted, grinning. “That’s my favorite part of yoga.”




It happened Friday night.

Jasper Odair was asleep in his bed, dreaming of playing Quidditch with the Cannons, when his mattress shifted and he felt the blanket lift and the weight of Edgar Odair slide in beside him. Edgar smashed his face against Jasper’s chest, “They’re fightin’,” he said thickly into the t-shirt that Jasper always wore to bed. “He’s drunk again, I can hear them.”

Jasper’s arm curled around his little brother’s small body. “They’ll stop,” he murmured, “They always stop.” Edgar nodded and Jasper felt the warmth of tears seeping through the shirt onto his chest. “It’s alright, Ed,” he said.

Far below, the sound of their parents voices shook the house, getting louder, more intense...

Edgar trembled and Jasper’s hand shifted to cover his brother’s ear. “Shh,” Jasper whispered, though his eyes were opened now, listening, his concern raising as their voices did…

“I don’t like it when they fight, Jasper,” Edgar said shakily.

“Neither do I,” Jasper said, “But it’s going to be okay.”

He’d no sooner said the words than there was a terrible crash and their mother screamed, the sound of it ringing through the house - loud and terrible. Jasper sat up instantly, pushing the blankets for him and grabbing his wand from the nightstand, where he kept it. “Stay there,” he commanded Edgar as Edgar had leaped up to follow Jasper as he ran to the door, “Do not leave this room.”

Edgar stared at the door as it closed behind his big brother, his hand shaking.

Jasper went down the stairs, moving through the dark in a funny daze, as though this was all a dream. It didn’t feel real.

The telly was on, flickering blue-white light through the dark of the house and the kitchen lamp spilled warm orange glow that mixed in the middle in the hall and he pushed his way into the kitchen to find his mother on the floor, his father holding her arm in a painfully awkward position and his fist raised - her nose already bloody, there was no question what had happened, what was about to happen - and Jasper took no time to think or hesitate.

“Ictus!” he cried, stinging his father’s hand so that he released his mother’s arm, “Get away from her!” Jasper yelled, rushing into the room. “Get away from her! Trudo!” and his father was shoved backwards several steps, away from his mother.

Drunk - so drunk the alcohol reeked off him and his eyes were red and unfocused - Mr. Odair sneered, “You keep your magic out of this, boy, you ickle cack-handed bastard. Too weak to fight like a real man, got to be waving your little wand about, you stupid cunt.”

Anger twisted through Jasper and he threw down his wand defiantly and moved forward, stepping between his mother and father, swinging as he went -- His mother let out another cry of distress as Mr. Odair’s fist met Jasper’s face and Jasper punched back, though with much less strength and much more inhibitions than his father, and there was a crack as Jasper’s nose broke and his back slammed into the counter and his father did not relent…

“Stop it!” Mrs. Odair yelled, “Stop it! You’re hurting him!”

And Jasper’s knees were given out, but he did not fall because of the way his arms caught the sink basin, and Mr. Odair kept on him and then there was a shout - a bang - bright green light - and Mr. Odair fell backwards and Edgar stood in the doorway, his eyes wide, his hands clutching Jasper’s wand, shaking.

Jasper stared, dumbfounded, and Edgar, shocked, dropped the wand, looking at Jasper with an expression of horror as the wand rolled over the uneven floor, coming to a stop between them.

Mrs. Odair screamed her husband’s name in a blind panic, scrambling across the kitchen.

Jasper’s mouth hung open, and so did Edgars, their eyes locked, both of their minds trying to wrap about what had happened…

And suddenly there were several loud CRACKs that filled the room and Mrs. Odair wailed and screamed as Aurors from the Ministry of Magic appeared. “Accio wand!” It was Fabian Prewett that collected the responsible wand from the floor and he looked the wand over, “Who’s done it? Who cast the spell?”

Edgar’s mouth trembled.

“Me,” Jasper said before his brother could say anything. “I did it.”

And one of the other aurors, a rough man with a thick short beard and dark eyes, grabbed onto Jasper’s wrists, wrenching them behind his back so they crossed and cast the incarcerous to hold them there.