Fan Fic 6: W/T: Tapestry

Summary: When James Potter asks his Aunt Hermione for homework help he finds more than just 20 year old notes in the margins of her old school books. The secrets he discovers could unravel the tapestry of his whole family. Unashamedly H/Hr in bias (don't moan, I know it isn't canon, but I still don't care!).

This is an experimental piece so if it's not up to much you he been warned.

It was a cold, blustery night in mid-December and James Potter was slumbering in front of the fire. The Gryffindor common room had emptied long ago; in fact, the lateness of the hour was such that the house elves had even come in to trim the fire and tidy up, only to find one sleeping student still out of bed. So the fire had been stoked to keep the room warm and it was this which made the first noise of the new day.

The crackling swoosh as one log crumbled into embers roused James from his sleep. One hand shot immediately to his hair, ruffling it in case any girls happened to be passing. The other pulled up the sheet of parchment from where it had been trying to escape from his lap to the floor. A long, jagged line ran the length of the page from the last word, tracing the path of the quill which had slid from a dozing hand and now lay on the floor next to a pile of unopened text books.

"Damn it," James cursed as he sat up. He reached for his wand and tidied up his homework. He stared forlornly at what was left; it was barely a foot long and Professor Zabini had demanded no less than three foot six inches on venomous Silipod bites and their antidotes. James knew he dared not cross the fierce Potions master again; he was on a last warning and knew one more slip up would cost him Quidditch privileges. Dad would go mental if that happened.

But nothing could be done tonight. James reached down for his other part-completed homework pieces; an incomplete map of the solar system for Astronomy; a badly-drawn but not labelled sketch of a mimbulus mimbletonia for Professor Longbottom (who James hoped could be persuaded to let him hand this piece in late) and an essay on Transforming Teacups for Professor Crick (only the title was written on this one). It was a sorry state of affairs.

Not that James hadn't tried. He wanted more than anything to impress Dad, if only for the new Nimbus XS that he'd promised to buy him if he achieved Exceeds Expectations in all his OWL's. Unfortunately, James was falling a little behind in many of his classes, what with Quidditch practice, chess club and his busy social life, finding time for homework was more than just a little tricky. James comforted himself, however, that at least he was feeling guilty for not doing his homework. It showed that his intentions were good even if his application was letting him down.

It was Dad's fault for being so demanding. James had an eye on a career in Quidditch. He'd starred for the Gryffindor house team since being a reserve in his second year. He scored four goals in his first game and hadn't looked back since. Several scouts from professions teams had even come to watch his games and left suitably impressed, leaving James hopeful of being signed up by one. He thought Dad would understand, considering he was supposed to have been fairly good when he was at school. Mum was a pro Quidditch player, too, so James had expected Dad to support him. It had come as quite a surprise when he didn't.

"It's all very well to dream of a career like that," Dad had said. "But it's really hard to get into. Just ask your mother. You want to make sure you have a good education behind you in case it doesn't work out."

What it boiled down to was that Dad wanted James to be more like Aunt Hermione. She was head of Magical Law Enforcement and Dad often said she was the cleverest witch in the world. She had got both Dad and Uncle Ron through school by the sounds of it and Dad wanted James to be more like her than either himself or Mum. The problem with having Harry Potter as a father, James had found out long ago, was that his instincts were good and almost always right. You had no choice but to listen to someone like that.

It was harder at school where there were reminders of his legendary father everywhere, especially around Gryffindor Tower. A portrait of him hung on the spiral staircase next to one of Dumbledore and James always felt the uneasy sense that it was spying on him during term time. The topmost dormitory was even called 'The Harry Potter Room' as it was the one his father had occupied during his time at Hogwarts. Luckily, James's room was lower down and at times he felt it was the only place he could escape his father's imperious presence.

Not that that was true tonight, for as James changed for bed he could think of nothing but his father's voice chiding him in a future vision as he read his son's across the board 'T' grades. Mum was shaking her head in the background and Aunt Hermione was telling him all the problems that came with being a troll. After all, she was head of the Welfare State for Subservient Creatures….

James woke with a start, dripping in sweat. One of his dorm mates snored loudly in the darkness, there was the sound of distant hooting from the owlery but there was no sign of Dad or Aunt Hermione nagging James about his poor grades, much to his relief. Nevertheless, he hauled himself up and grabbed his quill, parchment and Charms textbook from under his four-poster and started to write by the light of his wand. He was barely ten minutes in when a voice moaned from the next bed.

"Jim, what are you doing? What time is it?"

It was Richard Rees, James' best friend and he sounded groggy and less than amused at being woken so early by the scratching of quill on parchment.

"Dunno, early," James replied. "I have to finish some of this homework. It's giving me bad dreams."

"Can't it wait till morning?" Richard grumbled. From one of the other beds another dissenting voice begged for peace and quiet.

"Nope, old Flitwick will Charm my privates off if I don't finish this," said James darkly.

"Er – Jim, we handed in the Charms work yesterday, you fool," said Richard. James clapped himself across the head as he realised his best mate was right. "Just put your quill away and get some sleep, idiot brains. Otherwise, Flitwick charming your dangly bits off will seem like a blessing compared to what I'll do to you."
James guffawed, saw that Richard was right and went back to bed. Sleep didn't come as easily, however; James was plagued all night by disturbing images of Dad's disappointed face, Aunt Hermione's reproachful comments and Mum crying as he was carted off to live in the mountains of Romania. Only the sight of Albus laughing gleefully as he inherited James' bedroom and his racing broom served as a reminder that this was only a dream – the little squirt knew far better than to taunt his older, scarier brother.

When James woke again it was mid-morning. Misty sunlight streamed in through the circular windows illuminating the chaotic mess that was a Gryffindor Boy's dormitory. James checked his watch and grumbled as he realised breakfast would be over by now. Grudgingly, he reached under his bed and pulled out what homework was still outstanding and got to work. Luckily, he always kept an emergency stash of pumpkin pie in the drawer of his bedside table and ate his way through it as he worked. He wasn't getting very far, though, and was glad when the dormitory door suddenly burst open and Richard came in, red faced and gloved.

"You're finally up then, lazy git," he said. "C'mon, get dressed. We're all down behind Greenhouse Four. Teddy Lupin is trying to mate an Acromantula with a Blast-Ended Skrewt. Should be a laugh."

For a moment James thought of tossing his homework aside and joining the gang behind the Greenhouses. Just then he thought he heard a voice something like a mix of Dad and Hermione tut in his ear.

"Nah, I'd better not," he said bitterly. "I've got a tonne to do here. Grab your camera, take a picture of it."

"Top idea!" said Richard. "You never know, you might even see it from here if it sets the greenhouse on fire. Try and get finished quickly and meet us down there. Cillian Reilly is going to try and teach us all how to play football later and we're going to have a match on the Quidditch pitch. Magic vs. Muggles."

"I'll try," said James. With that Richard slipped out and James turned back to his work. He sat there for a while feeling mutinously self-satisfied. "See Dad," he said out loud. "I'm being a good little boy. I'm being just like Auntie H. Shame I can't pick her brains."

Then an idea came across James which lit up his day. As he looked down at his textbooks, his mind on Hermione, he realised what he needed was her help. He couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it before. She was bound to help him, how could she refuse if she'd helped Dad when they were in school? She could give him advice on how to do all this work, maybe even point out to him some things to get him extra marks. They were going to the Weasley's for Christmas dinner this year, he could ask her then. All he had to do was beg Professor Longbottom to let him hand his work in late, which he would because he was an old friend of Dad's, and sweet talk the other teachers to let him do the same.

With renewed vigour he labelled his solar map, which was only a small bit of unfinished work, and leapt up to hunt down his teachers. Professor Longbottom was more than happy to grant him his extension and though most of the other teachers were more reluctant, they all agreed when James told them the sob story of his heavy workload and extra-curricular responsibilities. All except Professor Zabini, the Potions master.

"Absolutely not, Potter," he sneered. "All students of your year have the same amount of work and most of them seem capable of meeting deadlines. The other teachers may have succumbed to the influence of your famous name but I certainly shall not. That essay will be in by Friday or you will fail and have a month of detentions to look forward to. Good-day."

And that was that. It wasn't a bad result and meant he only had one more piece of work to do, and he had a plan on that score, too. James was a bit lethargic when it came to homework but he knew someone who wasn't, and if you can't beat the academics you have to sweet talk them into helping you. This was a skill James had honed to near perfection.

Celesca Shaw was the brightest girl at Hogwarts. Her grades were superior to everyone else's and as James prepared to ask her help he was struck by how much she was like the Aunt Hermione of his generation. It stirred his hopes. It also helped that they got on really well, so well that it was rumoured she had a bit of a thing for him. He hoped he could use this to his advantage.

James approached Celesca one morning during a free period in the Gryffindor Common Room. She was surrounded by her gaggle of friends swapping Christmas plans and gossiping about boys. They all went silent as James approached and coughed pointedly. At first Celesca ignored him, pretending she hadn't heard him. James grinned when he saw her trying to fight back a smile as she kept on reading the Daily Prophet.

"Hem, hem," James tried again.

"Oh, hello James, I didn't see you standing there," said Celesca sweetly.

"That's alright, I have a way of blinding girls," James replied.

"Confident, much?" asked Celesca, smirking.

"I'm only kidding," said James. "Anyway, I was wondering if I could talk to you a minute."

"Ooh, I knew it, he's going to ask her!" one of the girls whispered excitedly.

"Ask her what?" James asked suspiciously.

"Oh, don't mind us," the girl, Cassie Case, chirruped. "You carry on."

"I will," said James. He knelt down so that he could speak into Celesca's ear. She gave a little shiver as he did so. "I was hoping you could do me a favour."

"Depends what it is," she replied.

"Well, you know how you're the best in our year," James swooned. "I reckon you've got all your homework done, haven't you."

"Almost," she said modestly, blushing at the compliment.

"I thought so," James continued. "Only – it's just that I – I'm a little behind with some of my work and I could really use a hand. Just on one piece. And I thought, what with you being so clever and everything, that you'd be the best helper I could get."

"I'm not going to do your work for you, James," said Celesca. "That wouldn't be right."

"I'm not asking that," said James quickly, trying to mask his disappointment. "I, er, thought maybe you could read over it or help me write it better. Like a study date."

"A date?" Celesca blurted out, making her friends giggle and her blush stronger. "I suppose that would be okay. When?"

"Well, Herbology is cancelled because the greenhouses are frozen so perhaps then? Unless you're busy-"

"No, this afternoon is good," said Celesca quickly. "Meet in the library at, say, two? I've got some stuff I need to finish, too."

"Sounds good," said James. "Thanks Celly, I owe you one."

"I'll remember you said that," she whispered back. This time it was James's turn to shiver and as he walked away his thoughts were on the afternoon, and anything but studying.