The Last Peverell

Chapter 3

Hope you all have had a lovely week, enjoy!

Chapter 3

James had come to visit a week later while Euphemia cleared up different things with the healers. No one had really been allowed to see her while the healers attempted to figure out what had caused the seizures. She had been given medication to take whenever she felt one coming on, but she knew that nothing would work to stop them. She fiddled with the potions vial as she waited for someone to knock on her door.

Now, Jasmine had only ever seen pictures of her father, that or ghostly afterimages, she'd never met him before. All she knew was that he was a prankster and if memory served, he was still a prat at the moment, which left her extremely wary. She didn't want to deal with a vindictive pranking Gryffindor. James was an only child...Jasmine just didn't want to have another Dudley on her hands. At least Sirius wasn't here to egg him on.

There was a quiet tap on her door before the matron poked her head in, followed by a teenager.

Though, when she spotted him, her breath caught. He looked just like she had imaged, only a lot younger. He was in his lanky teen phase, or right near the end of it, since his limbs seemed a bit too long for the rest of him. No doubt by the end of the summer he'd have grown out of it. He had just turned fifteen from what Euphemia had mentioned, which put him right at the end of his fourth year. Jasmine knew that he was training to become an Animagus with Sirius and future traitor Peter Pettigrew. But, now was not the time to be thinking about the rat, now it was time to meet someone who she once regarded as a father.

He seemed nervous when he walked up to her hospital bed. He was twiddling his thumbs, his robes slightly frayed at the ends from picking at them. His glasses were square and slightly askew on his nose, his hair was a mess, and his eyes were looking anywhere, but at her. It seemed that the floor in front of her was particularly interesting.

"You're James, right?" Jasmine asked, attempting to break the ice. The silence in the room was nearly suffocating her.

His head snapped up, his hair flopping around. Their eyes met, and his hazel eyes widened slightly when he saw her scars. "Wicked- I mean- yea, I'm James. My mum told me a bit about you, Jazz," he replied, the nickname bringing a smile to her face.

Jasmine was a mouthful, like she had honestly expected a Marauder not to give her a nickname. "No one has ever called me Jazz before..." she mused and James' nearly tripped in his haste to apologize.

She chuckled a little bit, causing him to stop. "No, I like it. Jazz, it sounds very English," she said, making her accent just a little bit heavier.

It seems that he had just noticed she might not have been from the United Kingdom, but he pressed forward. "It is, isn't it? My family is too bloody English for its own good. Who in their right minds names their child Fleamont, honestly. I'm just glad that they named me James," he retorted with a dramatic sigh that put him in the chair next to her bed.

Now, that was more of the James she was expecting. "Well, I guess Jasmine fits right in, right?"

He snorted, "Yea, mum and dad have been over the moon that you're coming to live with us. Mum's always really wanted a daughter," James muttered the last bit more to himself than to her, but she could hear the hurt.

So, she figured that she'd share a little about Jasmine's past that might put him at ease. "My dad always wanted a son, but my mum couldn't have any more kids after me. They were thinking of adopting before they died. I know how you feel, somewhat. I never got to the part where they picked another child, but I was eight and every jealous, being an only child. Now, I'd give anything for a family."