Uni is about to start again and I really don't want to get all stressed out again and spend my days in an old building surrounded by people who want me to know stuff and enjoy letting them know that I know stuff. That sounded weird... sighs
Oh well, on we go with the next chapter! Enjoy :D
Not So Childish Needs
"Harry?!"
James couldn't believe his eyes. He gaped at the man standing in front of him. A smirk creepily similar to his own met him, the hair eerily familiar, and the eyes...
He was sure that his chin was nearing the ground in frightening speed, his eyes huge as dinner plates, as he just stood there, trying to formulate at least one coherent thought that differed from the constant Harry, Harry, Harry stream that flooded through his brain.
His son looked exactly like him! He had the same hair, similarly unmanageable, he had the same smirk, similarly handsome, but the eyes were the thing that threw him off and thrust him back into reality. He could still see his little boy as if it was only yesterday; lying in his arms, his tiny, chubby hands wrapped around his finger, his rosy cheeks as soft as rose petals and his big, round emerald eyes gazing up at him with so much adoration that it was difficult to breathe. He would do anything for this little human being and he had given him everything that he had been able to.
Seeing him stand in front of him now, all grown-up, of age and capable of living on his own...
He didn't need James anymore. He didn't need him to dress him into cute little shirts and trousers anymore, he didn't need him to sing him to sleep every night or read him his favourite tale. His baby boy was an adult and it was the strangest feeling that warmed James from the inside out – an odd sense of sadness upon seeing his son, but yet such a strong sense of pride and love that left him breathless and incapable of his body's movement, as he jerked into action. He took two huge steps forward and drew his boy into the first hug in nearly two decades.
He felt trembling arms wrap around him and pull him even closer – a bit hesitant at first, but sure and strong after the first two seconds of insecurity.
"Hey, Dad," his son mumbled into his ear, his warm breath brushing against his skin. Harry trembled in his embrace and James tightened his hold on him even more; the instinct to shield him from every danger that threatened him from the outside world still as strong as ever.
"I've missed you, son."
Hermione could barely hear the mumbled words that were clearly not meant for her ears. As she glanced over to the red-haired witch, she could see tears run down her pale cheeks. A soft chuckle escaped her as she took a deep, calming breath and wiped the moisture off of her face.
She could only imagine what it must feel like for Harry to finally be able to embrace his parents for what must feel like the first time. She had experienced a snippet of those feelings during their time in Australia, so watching the scene unfold before her eyes made her unwilling to interrupt it. It was clear that all participants needed these few minutes, but as she let her eyes travel through the ruined kitchen and up towards the ceiling that was more holes than wood, she knew they had to get out of the house. It wasn't safe and on top of that it wasn't dry. At all.
A shiver ran through her body as an ice cold drop of water hit her neck and ran down her back underneath her shirt.
She hesitantly pushed her wet hair out of her face and cleared her throat. Lily looked at her, smiling understandably. James opened his eyes and narrowed them slightly, clearly not wanting to let go yet, and Harry, whose back was facing her, tightened his hold on his father even more.
Hermione stifled a sigh as she once against watched the ceiling with worried eyes. Her brain told her that nothing could happen because there had to be spells to keep this building somewhat standing, but her gut told her something entirely different. Sometimes she cursed her Muggle origin, especially now.
Lily took pity on the restless witch and walked over to the two boys that meant the world to her. Running her right hand through Harry's hair and resting her left on her husband's back, she pressed a soft kiss onto each of their cheeks.
"Don't you think we should get out of the cold?" she asked, smiling, as she watched her two boys untangle. Their hair was in similar disarray. She bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud. "I don't want you to catch a cold, sweetheart."
A slow smile tucked at the corners of Harry's lips as he slowly loosened his hold onto his father.
"It really is rather chilly, isn't it?"
"Let's get back home and into some dry clothes," Hermione said and took a few steps forward. Resting her hand on Harry's arm, she turned to the two people that had been dead just a few hours prior.
"We'll have to side-along you two. I'm not sure whether your magic is completely gone or whether your core is merely depleted, but either way, you won't be able to apparate. James wouldn't know where to apparate to anyway, come to think of it," she added softly, a thoughtful expression on her pale face.
She was shivering slightly, but Harry was pretty sure that she didn't notice it. Both of them were used to getting cold as they had been on the run one whole winter. It didn't matter how hard they tried to get that part of their lived out of their day to day routines, they never fully succeeded. In moments like this, though, he didn't mind that much. He, as well, had to really focus in order to feel the cold waves that shot through his body.
Nodding encouragingly, Harry once again tightened his hold on James, but this time he forced himself to just hold onto his arm securely. He'd have to be able to turn in order to get them back to Grimmauld Place and he wasn't that experienced in side-along apparition to accomplish that whilst hugging his dad.
He shot a glance at Hermione, whose hand was wrapped around his mum's wrist. The young witch took a deep breath, smiled reassuringly and turned on the spot, disappearing with a low pop.
"You really like her, don't you?" James' soft voice reached his ear just before Harry himself turned, a picture of his house in mind.
He blinked. The older man watched him intensely, a soft smile playing along his lips, as he waited for his son to answer. Heat rushed through his body as he understood what James wanted from him.
His dad smirked knowingly and Harry was more than sure that he had the face colour of a tomato rather than a wizard right now.
"Yes," he said softly, not able to fully look his father into the eye. He didn't know why, but this conversation made him feel shy and very, very young.
He had never even dreamed about what it would feel like to talk about something like this with his father of all people. Sure, he had imagined having this conversation with Sirius, but his godfather was someone entirely different than James. He, Harry was sure about that one, would have made suggestive comments, wiggling his eyebrows whilst laughing at a stuttering, completely embarrassed Harry. His dad on the other hand...
It hurt to accept the fact that he didn't know the black-haired man at all. Sure, he was his dad, he had given his life just to give Harry a chance at his, but he did not know him. Everything that connected the two of them was the first one and a half years of his life, which he couldn't even remember. He felt guilty thinking that. He knew James would give up everything – hell, he had given up everything – and Harry knew that he would do the same without even a single thought.
It was a disconcerting feeling. He didn't know what it was like having a real family with real parents. He never had that. Of course, he had had the Weasleys, but how much at home did one feel if one addressed the parents of the house with Mister and Missus? Not very much. He had been a guest in their home, never fully being a part of it. He didn't know how to act, now that he actually had a real and feasible chance of having a family of his own.
He didn't know how to act. He knew how a son should react, at least theoretically, but he had no experience whatsoever how James' son should react.
A pressure that felt ice-cold closed in on his heart, squeezing it tightly.
He didn't know his parents.
That truth hit him like a bludger. What should he do? How should he act around them? Would they think that they knew him because they had known him as a toddler? Would they think that they had the right to smother him with care because that was what they had done when he was one year old?
He was overwhelmed with the situation and did not know how to deal with it on his own. Hermione would probably know, but she was already at Grimmauld Place with Lily, waiting for them and probably wondering what exactly took them so long. Would she come back if they stayed here for some time longer? Would he like her to come back? No. No, he wouldn't. This was his father, for Merlin's sake, and he could do his best to get to know the man still waiting for his answer. He may not know how to act around him, but he damn well knew that he was a Gryffindor and Gryffindors didn't worry when they could do something about the situation!
He took a deep breath and forced his heart to calm down. "Yes," he said, his voice barely wavering. He had hoped we would manage to make it sound strong, but apparently he had been thrown out of balance even more than he had thought. "I really like her."
Hesitantly, Harry gazed through his lashes, not fully able to directly look at the still smiling wizard standing before him. His heart thudded violently against his ribcage, threatening to jump right out at any second.
"She seems like a very nice girl," James said and reached out to ruffle his son's hair. He didn't like seeing him so nervous and insecure around him, but he also knew that that behaviour was nothing but understandable. He didn't know him and although James was his father, he hadn't done anything that deserved Harry's trust. He'd change that, that much was certain.
Watching his son relax slightly made him feel warm inside. They'd get there eventually. He was sure of it.
"Let's not let the ladies wait any longer," he bit back a laugh at the relieved expression on his son's face. "We don't want their wrath directed at us, now do we? I can tell you, never get on your mother's bad side! She can get really frightening, that woman. Potter men tend to go after the frightening sort."
He sneaked a glance towards his son, who had finally stopped fidgeting and was grinning knowingly. James snickered, reached out his hand and grabbed onto Harry's strong upper arm.
"I knew it," he muttered, earning himself a booming laugh from the other wizard as his son spun around and he was pulled into the still sadly not forgotten feeling of being squeezed into a way too thin tube that wanted to push his intestines out of his body.
*~*HP*~*
Harry sighed as he lay on his bed and gazed up at the white ceiling. Streaks of sunlight illuminated the room and blinded him whenever he felt like moving his head, which kept him from doing so in the first place.
They had been home for a few hours already. Upon getting into the house, James had flinched slightly, seeing where his son actually lived. He had been confused at first, but once he saw what Harry and Hermione had made out of the once dark and creepy looking house of a family full of pureblood supremacists, he'd eventually relaxed.
They had shown his parents to a bedroom containing a double bed, a big wardrobe, as well as an attached private bathroom. It had been the room in which Ron and Hermione had been staying whenever they had come over before they had moved in together.
Hermione had altered some of her and Harry's clothes to fit the two wizards and they had left them to get comfortable and have some time for themselves.
Harry had not been able to sleep at all that night. Not that he had had a lot of hours left since they had arrived back at Grimmault Place in the early hours of the day. He was beyond tired, both emotionally and physically. He could barely lift his arm, let alone stand up, move over to his wardrobe and get dressed in something slightly more comfortable than jeans and a tee shirt.
Thoughts whizzed through his head, making it impossible for him to close his eyes and at least let the happenings rest until later that day, but having his dead parents sleep just one floor above from him was something he could not wrap his head around. He was confused, he was excited, he was more than ready to apparate right into their room and stay with them just talking, but...
All of this left him just the slightest bit scared. He was an adult now. He wasn't the intimidated and bullied eleven year-old anymore who woke up in the middle of the night and cried out for his mum to hug him and his dad to tell him everything was just a bad dream. He was an adult that led his own life; he had a girlfriend, he had a house, he even had a job!
James and Lily had lost him when he was a mere toddler. Lily had spent all of her afterlife following him everywhere he went in hopes that he would be able to somehow tell that he wasn't alone. James had spent his afterlife trapped in the very village in which their destroyed house still stood, which was being swarmed by tourists, who wanted to see where the unthinkable had happened, every day. He had been completely cut off from everything and everyone, left to his own thoughts and memories.
He didn't know how they would be able to deal with the fact that their toddler son was now a grown-up wizard who didn't need them anymore.
He had spent quite a lot of time trying to convince himself that he did not need them anymore, because he shouldn't! He really shouldn't want to run up into his parents' bedroom and give into that strong pull of crawling into their bed just like Dudley had always done whenever he had had a nightmare. Back then he had been jealous that his cousin had something that he couldn't have.
All he wanted was to be pulled into a warm embrace, being surrounded by his parents who were mumbling sweet nothings into his ears that would calm him down and finally let him have the peace of mind that he had longed for so long.
Merlin knew that Harry had tried to get his aunt and uncle's affection, to allow him to be calmed down by them, hugged by them, but they had always kicked him right out of their room whenever he had as much as peaked into it. It hadn't mattered whether they could see the tear trails on his terrified face. Aunt Petunia had screeched at him to get the hell out and Uncle Vernon had grabbed his too thin arm, pulled him down the stairs and had pushed him right back into his cupboard, not caring how many bruises his nephew would have come next day.
He had not tried it again.
Now, he wished he was younger so that he could somehow justify seeking his parents' love and their warm embraces without looking like a needy adult who was so confused that he didn't know how to handle his own life. He had managed well so far, so why did the arrival of two people mess him up so bad?
Slowly, Harry raised his left arm, his tired muscles screaming at the effort. His eyes still burned from the sunlight that was slowly crawling through the room, lightening it up bit by bit. He sighed softly as complete darkness enveloped him. His arm was successfully blocking out everything that snuck its way into Harry's exhausted brain.
He lay there like that for what felt like hours, waiting, breathing slowly and regularly, before he eventually fell into a blissfully calm sleep.
I'd be so confused if I were in Harry's place. Completely over the moon, yes, definitely, but how do you act around people who have the same age as you but who are your long dead parents?
I hope you liked it! Please tell me what you think!
Until next time - see ya :D