Pourquoi Tu Gaches Ta Vie?

James was faintly aware of the fact that there was something burning behind him, he was also faintly aware of the fact that the clock on the wall stated that it was three in the morning. It was probably the bacon that was burning. Because he couldn't find the eggs, therefor they couldn't possibly be burning. Where were the eggs anyway?

The boy (did he count as a man yet?) was currently rummaging through the fridge, having already scattered various things from the fridge (a half open milk bottle, a pack of carrots, yoghurt and more) on the floor while he continued to search for the eggs.

He turned around when he became aware of the fact that someone else had entered the kitchen. "Mother!" he greeted her, voice even a little bit cheerful. Because James was fine. Perfectly and utterly and completely and absolutely (and all other positive words) fine. He was doing great, really. He looked over at the bacon, which was turning black, before reaching out for the cup full of water that he'd been drinking from and splashing it on the pan.

A very odd smell woke Ginny that night. Or morning. Technically it was morning, but it was dark outside, and Ginny didn't really classify it as morning until the sun rose. Man that was a nasty smell though. Smells didn't seem to be getting on with her recently in fact. Which made her a bit concerned, especially with the other thing. Surely she was too young for menopause.

Was that bacon? It kind of had a bacon-ish...was it burning?

Ginny shot out of bed and grabbed her dressing gown, heading down the stairs as quickly as she could, though the idea of the house burning down had definitely woken her up. She wasn't really expecting the state of the kitchen when she arrived. Or her son to be rummaging through the fridge.

He sounded...cheerful.

"James," she greeted back, voice level. "What are you doing? And-what-?" she watched him pour water into the pan. "James, you can't-have you been drinking?"

Had he been drinking? He wasn't sure. Or well, he knew he HAD been drinking. But that was hours ago, surely he wasn't drunk anymore.

James hummed, poking the soaked and black bacon in the pan. "I'm not sure," he responded to his mother's question after a while. He glanced at her. "Where are the eggs?" How was he supposed to make breakfast without eggs? That sounded ridiculous. He'd need bread too, where did they keep the bread again?

Stepping over the bottle of milk, James walked towards his mother, holding the pan in his hand. "I was making breakfast, for Stacy." he explained, voice still chipper. "Who is waiting. But it's burnt. I reckon she won't like it, like that." he offered his mother the pan. "And I can't find the eggs. And my water is gone," he pursued his lips. "Oh! Do you have beer? I'd love beer. Or vodka. Or-Oh! By the way, is Dad back yet?"

Where are the eggs? He'd let the house almost burn down because he couldn't find eggs? "They should be in the fridge, we might be out. I plan on going shopping for more tomorrow. Maybe you should sit down, and I can finish off for you? I think your bacon might be a little...burnt," biggest understatement of the centuary.

She glanced down at the pan, reaching forward to take it off him. "Stacey? Who is Stacey? Though it's nice of you to make breakfast for her..." was Stacey in her house? He seemed to acknowledge that she wouldn't like the food though. "That's okay. I can make you both breakfast, if you'd like."

"I think you'd be better off with water than bear. Or vodka," all trains of thought were cut off when he asked the last question though. Ginny could almost feel the colour drain from her face, feeling slightly nauseated. "No, James. Your dad isn't back yet," she was feeling a little faint, come to think of it. She been trying to avoid thinking about her...husband. "Get yourself a drink of water and I'll focus on your breakfast."

"Stacy's the love of my life, mother." responded James, simply. Her name had been Stacy, right? It was either that or that she was really a guy named Steven, but James was pretty sure he would've noticed that. Or wait… "Stella…?" he muttered out more to himself than to his mother. Stacy was a nice name though, he'd go with that.

"I love breakfast. Do we have bread?" James questioned, his whole face lightening up at her suggestion to make the food, he really didn't like making anything himself. "I don't think we have eggs. You can't have breakfast without eggs. I can run out to the store. Or just apparate, wouldn't that be funny? Showing up in the middle of the store!" he broke into laughter at that.

He recovered, his chipper tone disappearing and eyes darkening slightly. "Oh." he responded, before shrugging theatrically. "Oh well! He'll miss out on breakfast. Not that it's really breakfast, we don't have eggs." he did as she had told him and went to refill his glass with water. "I'd much prefer beer." he told her, pulling himself up to sit on a counter, as he watched her. "I spilled some milk earlier." he added. "And yoghurt."

Ginny raised a brow at the description of Stacy. Yeah, she wasn't buying it. Especially not at that mumbled word which she swore sounded like a different girl's name. He wasn't even sure of her name. "Really? How long have you known Stacy for then?" she asked, moving over to the sink to pour the water out, tossing the burnt bacon. "You want bacon then? And bread? Because I'm fairly certain we have bread. It's just not in the fridge."

The mental picture of James apparating into the middle of the store in his current state was not a plesant one. "No, I don't think you should apparate, you might scare someone. You sure you can't do without eggs?" Merlin she hoped he said yes he could.

Ginny let out a breath of relief as James seemed to get over the subject of Harry. "It's still breakfast, just eggless breakfast," she tried her best to keep her voice upbeat, still slightly shaken. "And I noticed the spilt milk, and yoghurt," she tried not to look too amused at the kitchen. It was a right state. "You can help me clean it up in the morning, seeing as it's only some, yes?"

"I met her tonight-yesterday?-and we just clicked!" James insisted. "She-She-She's a muggle, damn feisty buggle-muggle, though." Maybe he was still a little bit drunk. Had it been water that he was drinking earlier? He wasn't so sure anymore. "You should be nice to her, mother!" James continued. "I might ask her to marry me. She's got nice hair, it's this long-" he patted on his lower back. "And she's got two legs and two arms and stuff. She's lovely!" If only he could be sure Stacy was her name or not. If only he could remember how much he'd had to drink and how long ago that was.

"I wan't bacon, bread and eggs. But we don't have eggs. Do we have pineapple? I can deal with no eggs if we have pineapple." Pineapples were yummy. And yellow and Hufflepuffly, sure Stacy would love it had she any idea what Hufflepuff was. James must enlighten her, surely.

"Stacy can help you!" James grinned, sipping on his water. "Water is such a dull drink, mummers." he pouted. "Can't we have something nicer to drink?" he yawned. "Mmmmmm…tired."

Ginny wasn't sure she wanted to hear about whether or not Stacy was a 'damn feisty muggle'. She wasn't sure she wanted to know exactly what that meant. Maybe she was just very outgoing and adventurous. "I will be nice to her, when am I ever not nice to any of your girlfriends. I do think one night of knowing her isn't enough to ask her to marry you though. She does sound lovely. It's very important to find a woman who has two legs and two arms and stuff. Glad to know you know what to look for."

He had totally been drinking.

"We might have pineapple," Ginny looked down at the mess that surrounded the fridge. "Somewhere. I'll look into that. Let's just do the bacon first, and bread. How much do you want?"

"I think it would be rude to make Stacy help me, if this is the first time she's visited. Though I certainly wouldn't say no if she offered. And I don't care if it's a dull drink, you keep drinking. You can have something nicer after. Like juice. Hey, we might have pineapple juice, if you think that's good enough for your breakfast?"

"You're against Stacy, aren't you?" James accused, folding his arms. "You horrible, horrible woman. Stacy's done nothing to you," he grinned brightly. "Don't we have some family ring that I can give her? So it's more sentimental. I don't own any rings. Do we have paper? I can make rings out of paper."

He'd been slightly whacked up for a while now, and drinking didn't seem to help with that fact. But at least he was being bold, bold was good, wasn't it? Wasn't boldness a Gryffindor trade or something? That and being courageous and brave and shit? Boldness was totally Gryffindor.

"A lot!" James replied. "Enough for me and Tracy and me again, because I eat for two. At least." he nodded his head. "Uuuuugh, how long will it take? I really want the pineapple." he tried not to pout again.

"But you need to get to know Stacy!" James insisted, though he wondered if it wouldn't just be easier to ask said Stacy to leave. And then he could keep all of the breakfast to himself. But then he'd have to be rude (not that James really did have a problem with that). "Juice is disgusting." James replied, pursing his lips. His mood was darkening again, which seemed to happen often. One moment he was happy and hyper and then the next second he wanted to break chairs. On people's heads. And just like that, he was laughing again. "Only your finest wine will do for my breakfast!"

Ginny rolled her eyes, rubbing her temples slightly. It was far too earlier in the morning for this. "I'm not against Stacy. I've never met her, but I'm sure she's lovely," family ring? He could forget it. Push him towards the paper ide. "Surely she'd like something handmade more? I don't think we have a family ring, if you make one yourself it'll be more personal."

This was going well. At least she was cooking now, rather than thinking about...stuff. Her brows raised when the name of the girl switched again, chuckling. James eating for two could be true. She thought it could be true of most boys. "Okay, oil and bacon's in the pan, let me see if I can quickly find some pineapple. Do you want it fresh or out a can?" she shouldn't have asked,really.

"I will get to know Stacy! How long is she here till? And juice is lovely, don't be silly. I think the last thing you need is wine. Maybe more water?" more water sounded like a good idea. And then after breakfast he could go back to bed. Maybe she should put something in his drink to make him sober up a bit. That didn't sound like an entirely bad idea.

"Ugggggggggh," James' head was hurting a little, so he took a large gulp from his glass. "But muuuuummmy," he sighed loudly, pouting again. "I'm fucking shit at making anything handmade. Do you really not remember? I mean, I know I had that phase were all the gifts I gave you were handmade shit. Emphasis on the shitty part."

He yawned. "All the bacon in the paaaan!" he grinned, his voice slipping into a slightly sing-y tone. "All the bacon's in the pa-a-a-an! They should make a musical about bacon." he thought about it for a moment. "Wait, when people say 'they', who do they mean? Who are 'they'?"

James scrounged up his nose. "I don't want pineapple anymore. It's really yellow." he frowned. "Yellow yucky." he nodded, his own words repeating in his head. "I need more firewhiskey for this conversation." he told his mother. "You don't want to know Stacy," James sighed loudly. "She wasn't even that great. Also she's a bit clingy, and she wanted breakfast. Do I look like I cook? Honestly, women, the lot of you are crazy."

Ginny smiled slightly as James reminded her of the homemade gifts he used to make. "I do remember that, yes. And I really liked them, whether they were shit or not," she probably should've reassured him that they weren't, but that would be lying really. "They were from you, which made them special. I still have some of them," not all.

"Well, they means a collective group of people who would normally do what...like, they should make a musical about bacon, I assume you're talking about people who make musicals. Unless you plan on making a musical about bacon. Do you want this bread to be toasted?" a musical about bacon though. That would be...interesting.

"Yellow is yucky," Ginny agreed, chuckling at James' face. "If you don't want pineapple, is there anything you do want? Do you want honey on your bacon?" did they have honey? She should really check before giving him a chance to speak. And ignore the comment about firewhiskey. "We are crazy, yes. Don't know what you men see in us. It's a shame she turned out to be so clingy. Maybe the next one will be nicer."

James pushed himself from his "seat", vaguely aware of his mother talking but he wasn't listening. After a moment of staring at the floor, he sighed loudly and dropped down, wincing a little as he landed on his are on the floor and legs spread out. "The floor makes more sense."

"Making a musical about bacon sounds beautiful. It sounds like something Louisa and I'd do," he giggled. "We could dress up as eggs!" his grin slipped off. "Which would be nice cos we don't have any eggs." It was so devastating. He loved eggs. "But then all the eggs would die and Fred could play the milk and the milk floods the kitchen so all the eggs die and the bacon is the only one that survives because it manages to get on the fridge but there's not enough room for the egg and the bacon promises to never let go but then lets go." That reminded him of a movie someone had made him watch. It had been a shitty movie. "And then it ends with a song about broccoli."

What had he been drinking? "Ewwwww. Honey is eeeeew. And I do want toast. But I don't want honey near my breakfast. If you put honey on my breakfast I will move out. WAit, unless you want me to movie out, then I'll tie myself to the fridge." he nodded. "Oh my gosh, you want me to move out?"

Ginny blinked as James dropped to the floor, looking down at him in surprise. Of course the floor made more sense. That was totally understandable. What on earth had he been doing or drinking last night? "You comfortable there?"

She chuckled at that. She could definitely see it being something he and Louis would do. And was he summarising the ending of Titanic but replacing everything with breakfast? "That sounds like it would be a beautiful musical, yes. Though a bit familiar-and what does broccoli have to do with breakfast anyway?"

"Honey's lovely!" Ginny said, though more teasing than anywaying. She was laughing by the end of his little rant though. "No! I don't want you to move out. I enjoy your company," even if it was kind of tense company sometimes. She hated being in the house on her own. If it wasn't for James she might've moved out herself. "So don't, I won't put honey anywhere near your breakfast," she turned the heat down on the bacon, toasting two pieces of bread and getting out a plate. "Here, food."

James was feeling sleepy. Very sleepy. His eyelids were heavy and his mouth kept opening to yawn. Mmm, bed. Bed sounded so nice. "Sooo comfortable," he muttered as an answer, head falling back.

Still almost-asleep, James managed to listen to his mother. Yapping about broccoli. Or had he been the one ot bring that up? "Broccoli's green," James pointed out. "Why is it called Broccoli, that sounds brown."

"If I move out, you'll replace me with a fake James!" he accused, eyes open now and he stared at her. "You'll find someone on the street, christen them James, give them my room and tell them to be awesome. But you'll soon see no one will be as fucking amazing as me. James Sirius Potter! Jimmy Sirry Potty." he giggled. "Potty."

He held out his hands, not getting off from the floor. "Foood! Sit with me mummy and eat, I'm hungry."