tension

It was midnight.

James and Lily had spent hours arguing. Lily couldn't stand staying put in their cottage, angry James left to work at the Ministry while she played trophy wife. He had brought home a bouquet of differently-colored dahlia for her. She lit them on fire and accused him of trying to repress her personal ambitions. He had to remind himself she was just tired of being cooped up, but someone had to stay at home to watch Harry, and James was helping the Order by working at the Ministry. It had to be her. Either the war would end or Harry would eventually be old enough to leave home, she just had to wait until either one happened. (James hoped the former came first.)

It was midnight and Lily had left. James knew she would be back, had to be back. He knew she wouldn't just leave their son, and him.

Sighing, James flipped the kitchen light off. He walked through the living room, turning off lamps and making note to find something to replace the vase Lily had broken.

He walked up the stairs and hoped the tension in his marriage was only a result of trying to live through the war. They had married young, scared either one of them would die before they could. Harry hadn't been planned, but he wasn't rejected. James loved his son more than anything else in the world. (More than once, he had considered betraying the Order when they seemed to be losing the war. Harry would be safe if he was the son of a Death Eater.) If his marriage fell apart, he couldn't let Lily take Harry. He'd kill someone before he let that happen, wondered briefly if he'd finally return her blows if she dared tried.

The place on his arm where a wide gash had been just thirty minutes earlier stung.

He doubted it.

James stopped at the top of the stairs. He glanced to the right, to his bedroom, and went to the left.

Right before Harry had been born, James had decorated his nursery. He painted the door baby blue, the walls inside were covered in moving pictures, an alphabet-themed poster hung by the window, painted tiny brooms, snitches, quaffles, and bludgers on the wall and and enchanted them so they'd fly about. He bought tiny crystals that lit up in different colors when it was dark and attached them to the ceiling. Lily had criticized every purchase, but James didn't pay any attention to what she said.

He turned the bronze knob and slowly pushed the door open, peaking inside.

His son was asleep in his case, curled up and covered in his favorite blanket. James smiled.

If he ever doubted his purpose in life, he had his son. James walked inside of the nursery, softly closing the door behind him.

Harry moved slightly and his eyes fluttered open. He looked ready to cry.

James was by him in a second. "Hey, kiddo, I'm sorry." He cooed. His son huffed and rolled over on his back, stretching out his arms. James smiled and picked him up, taking his blanket with and keeping Harry covered.

"How's my boy?" James asked.

Harry whimpered, eyes fluttering. "Ma."

"Mummy's not here, she'll be back in the morning. Don't you worry. She loves you just as much as I do." James promised. He walked over to the rocking chair, sitting down. At the very least, she had to be back because they were supposed to go see Dumbledore together tomorrow afternoon.

His son stared up at him. His eyes were so much like Lily's, but James swore they were brighter. Lily had a ring of brown around her pupils, unlike Harry's own. The shape of his eyes were different, too. Lily's were almonds with short, thick eyelashes. Harry's were round, and his lashes were like James' mother's own- long and thick. James knew his son was going to be a heartbreaker when he grew up. Definitely unlike him, he spent too much time chasing after Lily.

"Da." Harry huffed.

"Daddy!" James laughed. "Think you can say it?"

"Da." Harry repeated, closing his eyes.

James smiled. "I love you, Harry." He said. "I promise I'll always be with you."

yes, tomorrow james and lily would go see dumbledore and be told that the Dark Lord was after their son. James would quit his job at the Ministry and go into hiding with his family at the cottage, coated in as many protective spells as possible. Peter would be made the Secret Keeper, he'd betray his old friends, and Voldemort would attack. James and Lily would die. Harry would become the Boy-Who-Lived. It's the story we all know, one we've all read many, many times.

I personally don't believe James and Lily were blissful in marriage. I find it extremely unlikely! Married young, had a kid young...James was undoubtedly raised traditionally, Lily raised in the time where women were being empowered in the muggle world. Lily had to raise their son while James worked, both too scared of the war to leave their son alone without either one of them. No...Their marriage wouldn't have lasted forever.

Also, I see a lot that people dismiss James' love for his son. They proclaim a mother's love is stronger than anything else, and decide that James' love just doesn't matter as much. I get that Lily had sacrificed herself and from whatever magic, Harry lived. That doesn't mean James didn't love his son with all his heart. Doesn't mean he didn't adore his son. A parent loves their child more than their significant other, than their own life. At least a good parent does...and do you mean to tell me James was a bad father? Aha, if you try, I won't listen!

I also appreciate father-child relationships more than I do mother-child relationships. I see the latter so fucking often, I'm sick and tired of it. So...I wrote this! Yay!

Not putting this down as a drabble because, despite its short length, it's complete and not something that could be torn from a legitimate story. this is just a slice of canon we never got to see...or headcanon, idk