James can hear the anger in his father's voice, can see it briefly on his face when he steps forward, and he inhales a sharp breath of alarm when Harry's hands land on his shoulders. He resists, but only for a split second, and it's clear following that that he's steeling himself for the worst. When he hears the What the hell are you thinking? he's sure that all of his worst fears have just been confirmed, that this is it, that his life with his family is over.

And then Harry explains, tells him he loves him - loves, present tense, not past - and James feels like the floor drops out beneath his feet. No. No, no, that wasn't what he was expecting at all, and it's probably a good thing that Harry hasn't let go of his shoulders, because he is suddenly very dizzy.

"But I'm a Potter, da." The words sound pitiful, childish, even in his own ears. "I'm not supposed to be gay. I'm - really not supposed to like a Malfoy. People are going to talk." Didn't Harry understand the gravity of this? And then James blurts the next thing without thinking about it, says the one thing that had thrown him so off-kilter for so long, had made accepting this relationship with Scorpius so, so intensely difficult. "I'm broken."

Being gay was fine, but not when he was. It was deeply flawed thinking that he'd never allowed himself to dwell on. He was the oldest boy - there were expectations of him. How was he supposed to handle not living up to those?