"James?"
The twenty year old, jet-black haired man sat in the living room of the Potter home, not speaking, and barely holding the cup of tea that had been placed in his hands without him acknowledging it. Harry, who was now forty-five years of age, watched his son carefully.
"James, you know you can come over whenever you want, but when you show up here at two o'clock in the morning, not saying anything, it makes me slightly concerned," said the older man.
The other continued his silence, staring at the coffee table in front of him.
"Jamie, you're going to have to say something eventually. Or else I'm going to kick you out into the cold," his father said. At last, this triggered a reaction in his oldest son's face. James's brown eyes (which were much like his mother's) flickered up to meet his father's emerald green ones. Harry read a twinge of fear and shock in his son's eyes.
"Come on now, speak up," Harry prodded.
James's mouth opened slightly, like he was going to say something, but couldn't figure out how to say it. His mouth moved silently, forming words that were not audible.
"Just spit it out. Doesn't have to make sense. Just say something." Harry watched his eldest son, trying to get words to come from his mouth. After a few seconds of silence, Harry stood up, walking to the fireplace. "That's it, I'm going to Floo Heidi," he said, referring to his son's wife.
"NO!"
"What's with all the ruckus?" asked a sleepy Ginny, walking down the stairs.
Harry stood close to the fireplace, about to throw in some of the Floo powder. "James shows up here at the middle of the night, and won't say anything. Except for a two letter word, that is," said her husband.
Ginny nodded sleepily, and said, "I see."
"So why shouldn't I Floo Heidi? Did you two have a fight?" asked Harry.
James shook his head, finally being able to speak. "No… she told me something… and I ran," he said.
Harry leaned forward, curious. "She didn't have an affair, did she? She's a wonderful girl and all, but if she did, I'm going to—"
"No! She didn't cheat on me… s'just…" He looked up at his father and mother. "I'm gonna be a dad."
Ginny and Harry's faces broke out into smiles, and Ginny opened her mouth to congratulate him, but Harry said, "You don't look too happy about this, though."
James's eyes were filled with fear. "What if I'm a horrible father?" he asked, genuinely afraid. Harry leaned forward and took his eldest son's hands in his own.
"James Sirius Potter. You will be a great father. An amazing father. Your child will be lucky to have you as a dad," said Harry, squeezing his hands gently.
James still wasn't convinced. "But still! What if I mess up completely? What if my kid grows up to hate me? I can't be a father! I'm not anywhere close to being mature enough to raise a child!"
"You're a great, brave, kind man. Believe me, once you hold that child in your arms, no matter how truly ready you are, whether you feel confident to take parenthood or not, you feel happy. Scared, yes. But happy."
The eldest of the three Potter children nodded, breathing in carefully. His eyes shone with gratitude for his father's encouraging words. "Thanks dad. I reckon I should go home and apologize to Heidi for running off on her." He stood up to leave, but Harry grabbed his arm quickly.
"James—if you need any help. Just give us a shout, okay? I remember when we had you, I needed all the help I could get," he said. His son nodded his thanks, and turned to leave, but paused.
"Dad? D'you think that Grandpa James was as nervous as I am?"
Harry smiled. "Definitely. If not, more."
"James? Prongsy? Mate, you're worrying me."
James Ignotus Potter sat on the old weathered couch in Sirius Black's small flat. His usual charming demeanor was replaced with a terrified look.
"Bloody hell. Prongs! Answer me, you bastard!" Sirius snapped, throwing a pillow at his longtime friend. The other man did not answer, looking paler and paler. Sirius crossed his arms, leaning back in his couch. "James, seriously. Talk. I've never seen you like this before, mate—except for the time when Lily asked you to meet her parents. Except your face now is worse," he said.
Angrily, Sirius threw another pillow at his friend. "Merlin, James! Just spit it out!"
"I—Lily—baby—ran—mad—"
"WAIT! Did I just hear baby?" asked Sirius, grinning broadly. James nodded, color slightly returning to his face. "Bloody hell! Congrats, mate! This is brilliant!"
James smiled slightly, but it left as quickly as it came.
"You don't look too happy, mate. Wait—the kid is yours, right?" Sirius asked. James nodded silently, and Sirius sighed in relief. "Good. So why do you look so unhappy?"
James's hazel eyes met Sirius's stormy gray ones. "I'm gonna be a lousy dad, aren't I, Pads?" he asked tiredly.
Sirius's eyes widened, understanding why his best friend was so down.
"Jamesie, you'll be bloody brilliant," he said, smiling encouragingly at him. "You might be a troublemaker, but you're a great man inside. This kid is going to be lucky to have you as a dad."
James looked slightly hopeful. "You really think so?" he asked.
"I know so. Besides, you've got Lilykins. You two will be the best parents."
Another doubtful thought came across the other man's mind. "But what if I screw it up, Sirius? What if I let this kid get caught up in a horrible accident—or lose him? What if—"
"Just shut up, Prongs. Stop wondering about 'what if's, and just enjoy the fact that you have a wonderful life with your wife and this amazing kid that's gonna pop out of Lily in about nine months. Don't worry!" insisted Sirius.
James smiled feebly, his eyes showing great gratitude towards his best mate, and patted him on the back. "Thanks Pads." He got up to leave, but turned around remembering something. "Oh—one more thing. Lily and I would like you to be the child's godfather," he said.
Sirius's eyes widened. "You want me to—huh?" he stammered.
"Don't worry. It's likely you won't have to take care of it permanently. Lils and I aren't planning on dying anytime soon. Just—shower gifts on the kid," said James, smiling.
With that, James Apparated out of his flat, leaving Sirius to sit on his couch in wonder.
"Godfather?" he said weakly.
Nine months later, James Ignotus Potter stood in his wife's hospital room, white with fear at his wife who was screaming bloody murder as she tried to push a human baby out of her belly.
Forty five years later, James Sirius Potter held a young baby boy in his arms, nervously rocking the child to sleep. He was scared for the new experience of being a father, but he would face the challenges as they came.