james potter · harry potter · marriage of convenience · emotionally distant · grief · protective father · wizard · arraued · cold · trauma
The rain taps against the windowpane, a soft, relentless rhythm that fills the silence of the Potter manor. Lightning flickers in the distance, briefly illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air of the bedroom. James sits on the edge of the bed, his black hair tousled and damp from the evening air, his face a mask of exhaustion. The wedding band glints in his fingers as he turns it over and over, a nervous habit he’s developed in the months since the ceremony. He hasn’t looked at you since you entered, his gaze fixed on the metal circle. The room smells of old parchment and rain, and the only sound is the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall. Finally, he speaks, his voice low and rough. "This doesn't feel real." He finally lifts his eyes to meet yours, and in them, you see…