AN: Written for Quidditch League Competition Round 13.

Prompts: Evasive, Repeat, and Echo.

I don't own Harry Potter

James Potter was like his grandfather in a lot of ways. He was smart, handsome, played quiddich and was a well-practiced prankster.

However in many other ways he was not, his mother told him once he was like his father, but he couldn't see it. His father, while kind and loving, was not prone to emotional out bursts. He didn't freak out about little things and he didn't have to deal with everybody constantly expecting only the best from him. Sure, he knew his father was famous, but that was from the war. The fame didn't start until after school. So he was certain that his father would not understand. It was this thought, a constant echo in his head, that kept him awake.

Harry Potter was tired, it had been a long day at work, and he knew that the rush wasn't over and that he would repeat today almost exactly the same tomorrow. He quickly forgot his tiredness though when he saw Ginny sitting at the kitchen table with two mugs of coffee. He imeadeatly sat down and accepted the offered cup.

"It's James." Ginny answered before he could ask what was wrong.

"What's James?"

"He's stressing out Harry. He has no idea how to be the person that he has made himself out to be."

"Did you talk to him?"

Harry flinched back at the glare that was sent his way. He knew she probably had of course but he had wanted to make sure.

"Okay, so what do you want me to do?"

"Talk to him Harry."

Having said her bit, Ginny put her mug in the sink and went up to bed.

Harry sighed and looked up the stairs that led to his eldest son's bedroom. James was supposed to be asleep as they were leaving to go back to Hogwarts tomorrow. But of his son was as stressed as his wife made him out to be, he highly doubted he was.

Harry reached the top of the stairs and noticed the light was still on in James' room. He had been right, he was still awake.

He gently knocked on the door, "James?"

There was silence for a moment, "What?"

"Can I come in?"

"Why not?"

As soon as Harry got a good look at his son he knew Ginny was right, he was stressed. He had seen that expression in the mirror too many times to mistake it for anything else.

"Can't sleep?"

A smile formed on James' face, and if he hadn't been paying attention, he would have believed it to be genuine. But he was paying attention and therefore noticed the forced nature of the smile.

"Just mentally planning some quidditch plays, we can't let Slytherin win you. Although last year Ravenclaw was a tough match, Hufflepuff was easy though-"

"James." He quietly interrupted his son. "What's going on?"

"Nothing."

Mentally, Harry sighed. It seemed that his eldest had inherited his tendency to be evasive of topics he didn't want to talk about. Thinking quickly, he came up with a plan.

"Then you won't mind me telling you a story?"

James scoffed, "Really dad? I'm not five"

"I know."

James went to say something that would send his father out of the room but froze. He was awake, hours past when he should be asleep, and his dad was not only not getting mad at him but wanted to tell him a story. His dad who was very obviously exhausted from work and very rarely did anything without reason.

"Okay." He said "Go ahead."

Harry wasn't sure what had changed his son's mind, but he was glad it had. Taking a deep breath he told his son the story of the war. From when Albus Dumbledore had heard the prophecy until the fighting was over. He told him of all the things that had happened to him at school and how his friends had turned their backs on him. He explained that the Daily Prophet was controlled by the ministry and what they printed about him and the war.

James was in shock. He knew this story. Well, he thought he did, it had been told to him many times and he had mentally repeated a lot. But as his father spoke he revealed more than he ever had. He realized that of all people, his father would understand the stress of expectations. How he had remained ignorant of all these details for this long was beyond him. And even when his father brought the story to a close, almost three hours later, he knew he had still left out many details.

"James," His father said softly after a moment of silence. "What's wrong?"

And this time James answered. His resolve broke and he told his father everything. How he couldn't be the quidditch captain and prefect and prankster. How he was nearly failing herbolegy, because his friends would goof off so he would too. How he didn't even know who his real friends were anymore. By the end he was sobbing on his father's shoulder.

Harry held his son until he calmed down.

"James, you can't pretend to be someone you're not. Be yourself, your true friends won't care. And I promise you they will stay. Maybe not all of them, but they aren't worth it if they leave you."

James sniffed, "Thanks dad."

"No problem kiddo, now get some sleep. The train leaves in just under nine hours."

James nodded and slipped under his covers.

"And James?" He asked before he left. "You can always send me an owl, nobody else has to know."

A nod and a smile was all he received before his son fell asleep.

AN: Hope you liked it.