Are You Coming?

Chapter 4

Harry bit his lip, watching his father striding across the hallway. He sighed to himself, wondering why his father seemed to dislike him so much. What had he done to him?

He hesitantly placed a foot on the staircase; he wanted to know more about the house he was in. It looked like a good place to go exploring in. So big.

He slowly descended, trying to decide what he could possibly do. James was his father and he wanted his father to like him, not just for his stay but for the rest of his life. He'd wanted a father for so long and now he'd found his real father, he wanted to make things work. There must be a way to make James like him.

He tried to think about the things that made people nice. Such as his mum, she was a nice person. She hugged and kissed him, but he didn't think James wanted him to do that. His mum looked after him when he was ill, but James wasn't ill and Harry didn't know how to look after an ill person anyway. His mum said nice things about him but James didn't listen to him at all. She took him to see his friends, but Harry didn't know James friends or where they lived. His mum brought him presents sometimes but Harry didn't have any money and his mum had forbidden him from going to the shops on his own. But he could make something. Lily made nice stuff for him all the time. James would love it if he could make him something. But what?

How about a cake? His mum always made him cakes when he was upset. That sounded like a good idea, chocolate cake with chocolate icing.

H reached the bottom of the stairs and cast a frenzied glance around; trying to decipher which door may be the kitchen. There was about ten, all finished in the same expensive, polished wood. Harry peeked into one, to find a dining room set up for roughly ten people. Not the kitchen then.

The next door he tried lead to a ball room. It was large and lined with the same polished wood as the doors and a grey marble floor. At one end was a stage or raised platform and along an adjoining wall was a long table that Harry decided must be for food and drink at parties. He slowly closed the door behind him, deciding that he could look at this beautiful room in closer detail later.

The next room he tried did appear to be the kitchen. It was massive; he could fit at least four of their kitchens at home into it. The floor was tiled in terracotta stone, dashed with a geometric pattern. The walls were wallpapered in a plain cream colour and the wooden cabinets were topped with a dull grey work surface, spotlessly clean. In one end, was a door, leading into a herb garden outside and beside it was a cooker.

Harry remembered the first thing his mum always did when she made a cake, put the oven on. He put it on at sixty degrees as he didn't want to burn the cake. He then went to the nearest cupboard and pulled out a large mixing bowl. He lifted it, with difficulty, onto the work surface. He then padded over to the fridge and pulled out a selection of ingredients, eggs, milk and butter. He placed them on the work-surface and found some eggs, sugar and cocoa powder.

He added the milk, flour and butter, then mixed them with a large wooden spoon, from a drawer. He then broke the eggs, trying not to let the shell break into them. It was much more difficult than his mother made it look. He climbed onto the work-surface so he could get a better look at the mixture. He carefully fished out some eggshell from the batter, in-between his fingers and the wooden spoon.

Next he picked up the sugar and it spilled to the floor as he removed the lid. He followed its trail to where there seemed to be another cake mixture fixed to the floor, sugar, flour and eggshells sat beneath him. Harry sighed, returning his attention to the bowl. He decided to add lots of sugar to make the cake especially sweet and then added lots of cocoa powder to make the cake extra chocolatey.

He was just looking for a tray to put the cake in when the door opened.

"Eve, can I have some coffee?" a masculine voice asked. "Are you in here, Eve?"

Harry heard the man sigh, before his father entered the room. His gaze swept over the spilt ingredients all over the floor and worktops before his eyes eventually fell on Harry. His confused stare turned cold as his eyes fell on the young boy.

"What's going on here?" he asked, his voice dangerously low.

"It was supposed to be a surprise…" Harry said, distraught.

"What are you doing?" James snarled.

"I made you a cake… but it's not cooked yet, I thought…" Harry rushed to explain. James hadn't seemed to listen to his explanations but he needed to hear this one, to show he wasn't being naughty, that he didn't need a punishment.

"How dare you walk in here, use my things without permission and mess up my house!" James growled. "You are not home! You will not act as if you own the place! You will not use my things and if you wish to you will ask permission first! Do I make myself clear?!"

Harry nodded quietly, looking down at his feet. He was yelling, like Scott did when he was angry with Harry's mum.

"Now," James continued, his voice quiet once again. But if anything it was scarier than when he had been shouting. It made Harry's blood run cold, James' tone suggesting he was dirt on the bottom of his shoe. "You will help Eve clean this mess up," he said, gesturing to the maid who had just arrived in the room. "Then you will go and wash, then get redressed. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied, watching as his father turn and storm back towards the door.

"Sir, do you still want coffee?" the maid asked.

"Yes, please, Eve, once this rubbish is cleared up!" James said, briefly turning to look at her. He didn't look at Harry once. "I'll be in my office."

Harry sighed, holding back tears that threatened to fall. He couldn't do anything right, especially where his father was involved. It was no wonder Scott hated him and his mum had gone on holiday without him and his dad didn't want to know about him. He bit his lip, burying his face in his hands; he wished his mum was here now. She would hug him and tell him not to worry, everyone made mistakes.

He felt the maid shift to beside him with some cleaning supplies. She put them down on the work-surface and drew up some hot, soapy water in the sink. "Come on then," she said, offering him a wet cleaning cloth.

She then noticed he was almost crying. "Don't cry," she said slowly, "your dad just expects a lot of people, not just you."

He didn't answer, quietly taking the cloth away from her and wiping the floor. He watched her move over to the cake mixture and give it a stir. It was too sweet and to chocolately, but she hid this from the small boy.

"I'll cook it for you, if you'd like," she suggested, deciding it would be easy enough to make another chocolate cake for him. And he'd still believe it was his creation.

"Thank you," Harry murmured.

"You're welcome," she said. "Thanks for helping clean up, why don't you go and clean yourself up?"

Harry nodded, running from the room. He softly treaded up the stairs, worried of disturbing his father and bearing the brunt of his temper once again.

He went past the door to the office, pausing as he heard his father's deep voice behind the door.

"I- yes, you heard me correctly, Martin," James was saying. "I need a babysitter…"

"Why?" a second voice asked.

"Why?" James echoed, a slight sarcasm added to the tone of his voice. "Because I don't have time to care for any child myself and since he obviously can't be trusted to stay out of trouble on his own…"

"How old is he?" the other man asked.

"Oh, five, I believe," James said sharply, sounding more like he was discussing a business deal than a small child.

"Very well, sir, I will look straight away, how long?" he asked.

"Two weeks, just until his mother returns from her holiday," James said shortly.

"I'll tell you as soon as I find a suitable candidate," Martin said.

"Thank you."

Harry rubbed his eyes sadly; James obviously didn't want anything to do with him. He wasn't even going to try and get to know him. He was just going to get someone else to look after him and then shut him away until Lily arrived home.

He found Deer sitting on the floor from where Harry had fallen asleep last night and then dropped him that morning. He picked him up, looking at the beaded eyes.

He made his way back to his room and threw Deer angrily to the bed. It wasn't fair! Harry had wanted to know his father for ages and now James didn't even want to know him.

He slowly took of his dirty pyjamas, fumbling with the trousers on his small legs. He then walked into the bathroom adjacent to his room, his gaze widening at the size and beauty of it. He hadn't bothered to look yesterday when he'd arrived and Eve had pointed it out to him.

Like most things in the house it was white. There was a ceramic bath and shower at one end and a toilet and sink at the other. There was a long towel rail, weighted down by navy, fluffy towels. There was a large mirror next to it, which caught the light of the sun as it crept in through the large window.

Harry walked to the bath, twisting the tap as he'd seen his mum do so many times for him. The water was freezing and Harry twisted the two taps in various quick successions before realising he couldn't make the water heat up. He felt his body quiver as he covered it in the cold water. He rubbed himself with soap, getting it in his eyes as well as his messy hair.

Eventually, he allowed the water to drain and grabbed one of the towels to wrap his small frame in. he walked, shivering, back to his room and lay down on the huge bed.

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"Prongs," a voice called as James' office door was thrust open.

"Who is it?" James feigned, pretending he didn't recognise his closest friend. The last thing he needed was Sirius Black to put him off task. His best friend made him do stupid things.

"Prongs, how long have we been friends?" Sirius asked, impatiently, "You'd think you would know my dear voice by now." He dropped James a wink.

James rolled his eyes, "of course I knew, Padfoot."

"So, how ya doing?" Sirius asked him, perching himself on James' desk.

"I'm making good profits," James replied, looking back at his report.

"Not the company, James, how are you doing?" Sirius clarified.

"I am well, thank you, Sirius," James said softly. He did have a weakness for his best mate's kindness.

"I'm well too," Sirius said, answering the unasked question.

James gave a snort of laughter, "I'd have noticed if you weren't, Padfoot."

"Would you? Are you sure you wouldn't be too busy?" Sirius raised.

"Padfoot, I'd never be busy enough to neglect you," James said warmly.

Sirius fixed him with a look that stated he clearly didn't believe him. However, he didn't continue the path not wanting to risk another argument between them.

"Did your mother get a good result from the party then?" he asked instead.

James shook his head. "No," he said intensely, "there were none I liked."

Sirius gave a bark of laughter," I suppose you and your mother have completely different ideas of what to look for in a woman."

"No," James answered, "I just don't want to marry at all."

"I suppose Lily really was your one true love," Sirius said, his tone half-teasing and half soft and truthful.

James shook his head violently. "Don't mention her!"

Sirius held back a sigh, "Moony and I are going out for a drink tonight, join us?"

James lifted an eyebrow," you know I can't, you know I'm too busy!"

"James," Sirius reasoned, "one night, mate, c'mon."

"Sorry," James said, flexing in his chair.

"One night?" the other man's voice was pleading.

"I can't."

"Sod the paperwork," Sirius said, compellingly.

James glanced around the room. Sirius' suggestion was very convincing. But there was no way he could.

"Sorry, Padfoot," James said. "I'd better get on with this report."

"Potter, I'll tear it out of your hand!" he exclaimed.

James looked at him slowly. "What time?" he asked.

Sirius didn't miss a beat. "Six o'clock," he said. "The Leaky Cauldron."

"See you then," James replied.

"Don't be late," Sirius warned.

"I won't," James promised.

Sirius didn't allow the smile to grace his face until he had left the office.

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James stumbled up the path of his mansion, from apparating outside the grounds. Anti-apparating spells had been placed around the entire property for protection. He was cursing them now. He was extremely drunk after his night out with Sirius and Remus. He hadn't been this drunk in ages and was beginning to regret the amount of alcohol he had consumed that night. All he wanted was to climb into his comfortable bed and sleep.

He slowly walked into the hallway, leaving his cloak on a large wooden table by near the stairs. He made his way towards the living room and quietly opened the door.

The scene that greeted him warmed James' heart. There sat his five year old son, drawing a picture. Harry had obviously cleaned up from his adventure in the kitchen earlier that day and was now blissfully unaware of anything else going on in the house as he surrounded himself with boxes of coloured crayons, brought from home.

James padded into the room, swaying slightly from his lack of soberness. He almost fell onto the sofa, barely avoiding squashing his small child.

Harry looked up at him with wide, worried eyes. James gave him a calm smile and looked over his shoulder at the picture he was drawing.

The boy moved to prevent him from seeing it. He gave another nervous glance, as if worried he would become upset at any moment.

"Can I see?" James asked quietly.

Harry shook his head, quickly.

"Why?" James asked.

"It's not good, you wouldn't know what it was," Harry argued. No one would. Especially not James, he knew nothing about children.

"I bet I would…" James feigned, though he wasn't so sure himself. But Harry didn't know that, wouldn't do to shatter his confidence.

"Okay…" Harry replied slowly, reluctantly passing the picture.

James' eyes lit up at the first won battle of parenting. His eyes slowly traced the page. Harry had traced a forest picture of trees and green ground. In the foreground he'd drawn two deer, a doe and a stag. The doe grazed peacefully while the stag protected her.

Images of the past crept into James' mind, galloping side by side with a chestnut doe. Grazing on the edges of the forest near her home. Sitting next to a pretty redhead in lessons. Kissing her on the banks of the lake. Their last night together, their night of passion. He shook the tempting thoughts out of his head and returned his attention to his son.

The boy was looking at him, studying his face and biting his lip. James realised he hadn't yet given him a verdict on his picture.

"It's lovely," James said quietly, tears pricking in his eyes.

"You really like it?" Harry piped up.

James nodded, a lump forming in his throat. Before he could stop them the tears were running down his face and he launched into a drunken babble.

The only words Harry could pick out were "Lily" and "baby". He frowned slightly. His father certainly didn't seem like a weak sort of person. He slowly approached his father's side, like a wildlife expert approaching an easily scared bird. He placed a small hand on his arm as he knelt on the sofa to reach his father's excessive height. As he did so, Deer, who had been sitting at his side, fell to the floor.

James bent and delicately picked him up between careful fingers. "Who's this?" he asked.

"His name's Deer," Harry replied.

James didn't have the heart to tease him about the originality of the stuffed fawn's name.

"Perhaps you should draw him in the picture," James suggested.

Harry nodded happily, at once settling down to add the idea to his image.

James watched him drawing, once again studying him. He could see more of Lily in him now, his nose was shorter and he had also received Lily's smaller height for the time being. He could see the emerald eyes gleaming contently and they reflected Lily's so well.

He felt a strange type of grief he hadn't felt in a long time and he gave and elongated moan under his breath, no doubt stimulated by the alcohol. He rubbed the back of his neck as he watched Harry pick up the pick colouring crayon to colour the fawn's ears. He drew the fawn cuddled up to his father, his head looking up towards him.

He looked up at James again as if asking for his approval. James nodded once again, since he felt he couldn't really speak without giving away his emotions.

Harry pursed his lips and compared his drawing with the stuffed deer now sitting on his father's lap.

"It's not the same," he said quietly.

"I think it's wonderful," James disagreed.

Harry favoured him with a thoughtful look. "Would you like it, D-….?" He cut off, unsure as to how he should address him with their seemingly new friendship.

James looked ecstatic. "You'd give it to me?" he asked.

Harry nodded shyly. "I want you to have it," he admitted.

James grinned. "Thanks," he breathed.

The boy next to him yawned widely and James inwardly agreed with him, it was time for bed.

He raised an eyebrow at Harry.

"I think someone is tired," he stated.

Harry shook his head. "I'm fine," he insisted.

"Well, I am if you're not," James said. His head was beginning to pound again. Curse Sirius and his persuasiveness, if it wasn't for him, James could have completed his work and wouldn't be drunk and looking forward to a big hangover tomorrow. Or not, as the case may be.

Harry silently agreed, not wanting to upset his father once again in their seemingly rocky relationship. "Goodnight, dad," he said sleepily, getting slowly up off the sofa.

James smiled, reaching down to hug him.

"Night, Harry," he said, kissing his cheek, before ruffling his hair.

"Goodnight."

James waited until he heard his footsteps climbing the stairs. He leisurely climbed the stairs, tired. He opened the door to his bedroom, for the first time in a while passing his office without even a glance.

He sat on the bed and removed his shoes, trousers and shirt. He slung them in his washing basket, just standing in his boxers. He didn't bother going into the bathroom but lay down in the warm inviting bed, feeling that he would be up in a few hours to throw up the sins of his night out.

His mind flooded with images of the past few days… Lily's arrival, the discovery of his son, being put in charge of his son. Merlin, how he'd once adored that woman.

He closed his eyes, letting his head loll back against the pillows. He was shattered but he just couldn't sleep, his mind too full of such exciting thoughts.

He briefly wondered if he had any hangover potion but the thought was soon lost and he was lost in deep dreams of the woman he had loved and lost.

Does anyone think I need a beta? Please vote in your reviews...

Another plea for my writers group, of a joint Lily/James fic. www(dot)freewebs(dot)com/james-lily-flower

An introductory video is on my youtube account www(dot)youtube(dot)com/watch?v=TDSussN921Y&feature=channel_page

Thanks,

Love JLF xoxo