"I know, Dad. You're disappointed that I couldn't be you."

"No, Son... I'm disappointed that you tried."

- "Inception" (2010)

April 1978

James Potter had suffered a miserable childhood at Flathurst House. It was not a particularly traumatic or deprived childhood, as one might assume when one saw James Potter think of his childhood bitterly. When James Potter was a boy, he thought he had the best life in the world, with expensive presents, two rich and loving parents, a flashy modern house, a sprawling garden all to himself, a team of house elves to wait on him hand and foot and a new broomstick every year. It was not until James had spent enough time at Hogwarts to understand loneliness that he knew what he'd missed out on. Siblings. Neighbourhood friends. Parents who were always there. Around the time that James turned sixteen, he realised that a showering of presents was not enough to maintain a happy child. Fights with violent distant relatives, screaming matches between parents, alcoholism, affairs... seen through children's eyes, these were all just "one of those things"... something that James thought he'd have to endure in his own adult life, because as far as he was concerned, that was what adults did. That's how they were, hence James tried his utmost to enjoy his childhood while he still could.

Two years after his realization, at the age of eighteen and mere hours away from his last term at Hogwarts, James had his last ever conversation with his father.

He was stood on the patio, overlooking the neatly manicured garden, watching Bodkin the house elf clipping the hedgerows.

He tried to imagine what his father might have seen if he'd ever just stood and watched James play in the garden: a black-haired boy whizzing around on a shiny new broomstick. Alone. As he pictured this, he lifted the newly-lit cigarette to his mouth and inhaled deeply. When he breathed out, the smoke looked as frosty as the dewy lawn.

Smoking in front of his imagined childhood self was a small rebellion. It was as though he were trying to tell his past self that one day, he wouldn't be alone.

James heard the kitchen doors slide open. He heard his father suck in a breath.

"Fucking hell, it's freezing out here," Charlus Potter shivered, slamming the glass door shut again. James glanced at his father, who was clad in a burgundy dressing gown and slippers. He had a walking stick hooked over one arm. His skin had a greyish hue to it.

"It's April. It's not that cold."

"Christ, boy, I can see my own breath in the air and I haven't even lit my fag yet!"

Charlus' ridiculous cockney accent made James twitch with irritation.

James looked at Charlus again. Grimacing against the cold, he was grappling in his dressing gown pocket for something. Not a moment later, he pulled out a box of cigarettes. James watched him remove a cigarette and pop it in his mouth with cool fluidity.

"Got a match, boy?" asked Charlus. James picked up his own box of matches from the arm of the patio chair beside him and tossed it to his father, who caught it easily. He took out a match and struck it against the side of the house.

James took another drag of his cigarette.

"Well then..." began Charlus, once he'd had his inhale of smoke. "We haven't done this in a while."

"What, talk?" James inquired. "We talk loads."

"You know what I mean. We haven't had a conversation in a while."

"It wasn't a conversation until you started talking about our conversation."

"Good conversation-starter, though, wasn't it?"

James did not smile.

"Aw, come on, James, give me some cr-..." Charlus paused. "...some credit..." he started to cough. He bowed over as the coughing fit progressed, the weak wheezing noise of his chest making James squirm.

When Charlus stopped coughing, he was panting for breath. "Fuck..." he breathed.

James watched him hold a hand to his chest as he caught his breath, his concentration face slowly disappearing until he was finally breathing normally. He took another drag of his cigarette.

James clenched his jaw. "If you're dying, why are you smoking?"

Charlus looked at his son, blew out the smoke and smiled. "Because I'm dying."

James turned back to watching Bodkin struggling under the weight of an enormous pair of hedge clippers.

"Funny little thing, ain't he?" Charlus commented, watching the house elf too.

"He's alright..."

Both men took another drag of smoke.

In his peripheral vision, James saw Charlus turn to face him directly. James did not look at him.

"If you're not dying..." began Charlus. "Why are you smoking?"

James could've thought of a hundred different sarcastic and deadpan remarks to throw back at him, but no matter how much he resented his father, it seemed cruel to trivialise mortality to a dying man. So, he shrugged, known that he was beaten.

Charlus smirked. "Stab it out, son. Life's short enough."

Instead of doing as his father told him, James brought the cigarette up to his lips again.

"Okay then..." mumbled Charlus, continuing to smoke.

The two men watched Bodkin throw the hedge clippers onto the ground once he was finished, stretch and examine his hands. Upon looking around the ground around him, Bodkin's shoulders sagged. From thin air, he conjured a rake and began to scrape up the clippings.

"So..." Charlus began again, the smoke from his mouth getting caught up in a gust of wind. "Last leg of the journey tomorrow, eh?"

James narrowed his eyes at his father. "What?"

"The Big Push," Charlus replied enigmatically again. "The Final Hour? The Parting of the Ways?"

James continued to stare in confusion.

"...your last term at Hogwarts?"

"Oh. Yeah, that. Weird."

"Nervous?"

James shrugged. "Dunno. Hasn't really sunk in yet, I guess."

"Ah, you'll be sad to leave that place, mark my words," Charlus stared up at the sky fondly, sucking in more smoke. "I remember those days like they only happened last week. Quidditch tournaments in the rain... common room parties... midnight feasts in the dormitory... those were the best days of my life."

James looked away.

In the corner of his eye, James saw Charlus glance at him. Apparently sensing he'd said something wrong, he changed the subject.

"The lads and I started a tuck shop in the boys' third year bathroom, you know..."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah... made enough money to buy out half of Honeyduke's, we did... ah, I do miss the lads... Mortimer, Ben, Didicus, Fat Kenneth... Twig-haired Mellie and her secret pet cobra..."

James couldn't help but smile at his father's nostalgic grin.

"You know, when the lads and I were in fifth year, Fat Kenneth's cat, Wordsworth, went missing and we managed to convince him that we'd seen the cat at the lake..." Charlus stifled a chuckle as though he were pulling the prank there and then. "He was so worried that the giant squid would eat him that he ran out to the lake in the middle of the night in nothing but his frilly nightgown..."

James grinned. "Yeah?"

"He swam right into the middle of the lake to try and save his cat when it was actually in my trunk the entire time!" Both Charlus and James laughed. "He nearly got eaten by the squid! Oh, you should've seen the look on his face when he came back into the dorm, soaking wet, covered in squid ink..."

"Ha! You must've got a month's detention!"

"Not much they could do, seeing as we were leaving Hogwarts in a week!"

"Wow, I need to start thinking of pranks to pull in my final week! What can I get away with..?"

"Ha! And one time, in second year, Mortimer dared me to run naked through the dark f-... the d..." Charlus cleared his throat. "-for... forest!" Charlus' body wracked with another coughing fit.

James' smile faded. "Dad?"

Charlus, held a hand up to say he was alright. By the time he stood up, he was nearly purple in the face.

"Fuck..." he wheezed. He lifted his other hand and studied his cigarette. "That's enough of that, today, I reckon..." and he dropped it on the floor.

James was silent. He, too, dropped his cigarette and stabbed out his cigarette under his foot.

"You know... there was a reason I came out here, Boy. Apart from needing a fag."

James did not look at him. "What was that, then?"

Charlus exhaled sharply. "I wanted... needed to talk to you about some stuff."

"That doesn't sound fun."

Charlus rolled his eyes. "Some things have got to be done..."

"Not everything..."

"I'm a dying man, Boy, just let me do my thing, alright?"

James grimaced, but remained silent.

Somewhere in the vast garden, a woodpigeon cooed.

"Right, erm..." Charlus now looked awkward. "Right... so, er... what are you thinking of... of doing when you leave Hogwarts?"

James thought this was a strange question for Charlus to ask. He'd never really been interested in James' schooling before.

"Travel a bit," replied James, as was his standard answer for this question. He'd needed to think of one ever since the first Order meeting...

"Oh, right... cool. Um, then what?"

James looked at his father questioningly.

Charlus looked almost nervous. "You gunna get a job?"

James swallowed. "Dunno. Maybe."

That answer didn't seem to satisfy Charlus, but James couldn't lie to a dying man. In reality, there was no future to see beyond the oncoming war. He- they- would have to fight so hard that they wouldn't even be able to contemplate such mundane things as getting a job.

"Come on, Boy..." Charlus probed. "Give me something. I want to know."

James thought about this for a moment, then sighed. "I think... I think I'm just gunna stick to what I'm doing now, if you get my drift."

Charlus gritted his teeth. "Right, yeah, the, um... the activist thing."

James rolled his eyes. "It's not just an 'activist thing', Dad. You know how serious the situation is now."

"Oh, I do. Believe me, I do."

"Then why do you always just dismiss what we're doing as some sort of stupid teenagers' campaign?"

"Because I..." Charlus trailed off, turning away from James.

James waited.

Charlus looked down at the ground. "Look," he began. "You and I both know that I won't be here when you come back, right?"

James blinked. He cleared his throat. "Right..."

"Right," Charlus punctuated. "So I'm never gunna know what you get up to, am I?"

James stayed silent.

"Doesn't matter if you piss me off or hurt my feelings or make me angry, does it, Boy? I won't give a shit when I'm dead, will I?"

"Stop talking like that."

"What, like I'm gunna die?"

"Yeah!"

"Well, tough shit, Boy! I'm dying and I want to know what my son's going to be doing with his life when I'm not here to kick him up the arse!"

James almost growled.

Charlus took a deep calming breath. "Alright. So. This... this girl, then. What's that all about?"

James looked at his father. "Huh?"

Charlus shrugged. "What's happening there?"

James stared at him. "She's...my...girlfriend?"

Charlus rolled his eyes. "Congratulations, Pal. How long's it gunna last?"

James wrinkled his nose. "How should I know? I'm not a fucking seer, am I?"

"Well, are you gunna dump her?"

"No!"

"And is she gunna dump you?"

"Not unless I do something twattish!"

"And are you gunna be a twat?"

"Fucking hell, NO!"

"Well then!"

James huffed, his face turning hot.

Charlus reached into his dressing gown pocket and pulled out the box of cigarettes.

"What the fuck are you doing?" asked James.

"Smoking."

James opened his mouth to smugly remind him that he had no matches and that James would not give him one, but then saw that Charlus still had his matches. He scowled.

The first intake of smoke from his new cigarette seemed to calm Charlus as much as heroin might calm an addict.

"So, this girl..."

"She has a name, you know."

"Obviously."

James turned to face Charlus. "What is it, then? What's her name?"

"I'm not the one dating her, you tell me."

"Christ, Dad, you don't even remember her..."

"'Course I do!" Charlus insisted. "Posh bird. Ginger. Sister with a face like a slapped arse."

James involuntarily laughed. He quickly removed his smile.

"Pretty girl, too."

James did smile then. "Yeah."

"... muggle-born, too."

James' smile faded. He looked at his father, who was watching him closely. "Yeah, what's wrong with that?"

Charlus gave him a pointed look as if to say 'humour me'. "A pureblood girl wouldn't have you running around after those Death Eaters trying to save every bloody muggle ever born."

James shrugged. "Or maybe I happen to think of muggles as human beings."

"Don't try and be smart, Boy. I'm no Death Eater."

"Well, why does it matter if she's a muggle-born or not?"

Charlus snorted. "You're embarrassing yourself. Don't pretend you wouldn't give a shit about muggle-borns if your bird wasn't one."

James spun round. "What?"

"These Death Eaters are dangerous," said Charlus. "It's one thing risking your life for something you believe in, but it's another thing risking your life to impress a girl."

James felt his skin burning. "What are you trying to say?"

"It's pathetic for a grown lad like you to run round pretending you're concerned about muggle-borns just to get laid-"

"You fucking watch what you say about Lily..."

"Ah, so she's Lily..."

"YES. LILY," James hissed, striding towards his startled father. "And she hasn't 'got me running around' anywhere. Sirius is with us. Remus and Peter, they're with us. There are dozens of us trying to stop this jumped-up maniac and his lowlife cronies from terrorising the wizarding world. Do not talk to me like some love-sick loser trailing after my girlfriend like a desperate fucking virgin. Alright?"

James walked away from Charlus, back to the patio chair where he previously stood, leaving Charlus silent.

"Fuck it," said James suddenly. "I don't need this. I'm leaving."

"You stay right here, Boy."

"Fuck you."

"Wait..."

But James wasn't listening. He yanked the sliding doors open and they shook violently as they slammed into the holster. He stormed across the massive kitchen and into the darker hallway. He could hear his father shouting after him.

"You listen to me, Boy!" called Charlus as he hobbled into the hall, leaning on his walking stick, a cigarette still between his fingers. "You do not walk away when I'm talking to you!"

James, who was half-way up the stairs, spun round to face his father through the bannisters. "Fuck off. I don't have to listen to you talking bollocks about me or my life or my girlfriend. I'm going to King's Cross early."

"The train leave until tomorrow, Boy. Where exactly are you gunna go?"

"I don't know. I don't care. Anywhere's better than here."

James sprinted up the rest of the stairs, knowing his father wouldn't waste precious energy following him up them. After all, he'd slept in the downstairs guest suite for the past four months.

He flung open his bedroom door and grabbed the handle of his trunk, which was already packed and locked. He dragged it out across the landing and down the big Georgian staircase to where Charlus was still leaning on his stick in the hall. He still hadn't abandoned his cigarette.

"Listen, Boy..."

"Get out of my way."

James flung open the front doors and strode out down the long gravel path. He patted the pocket of his jeans to make sure he still had his wand.

"I'm not finished yet!" called Charlus from the doorway. James heard frantic footsteps coming up the gravel path.

"Yeah, well, I'm finished with you."

"JAMES!"

James stopped.

He turned. Charlus was limping towards him, both cigarette and walking stick abandoned. He did not stop when James did. He reached his son and forcefully grabbed his arm. He was panting wildly.

"I will be fucking damned if I let you leave without telling you what I've got to say."

James didn't speak. His own name in his father's voice was still echoing in his mind.

"Your mother only ever wanted you to be happy, James..." there it was again. "If she was here now, she'd tell you to get a ring on this girl's finger as soon as you can and be happy together."

"I know, Dad..."

"But secretly, she'd be thinking exactly what I'm telling you now: don't waste your life on her."

James could not respond. Surely, after all that James had just said, Charlus knew how James felt about his father's opinions.

"Now, if she was a pureblood, I'd be perfectly happy to let you-"

"Dad-"

"No, shut up. You know I'm making sense. If that girl was a pureblood, you wouldn't be in any danger being with her. I'd be happy as a pig in shit if you were that lucky. But you're going out with a girl with a price on her head. A very low price, but there are people out there who would do unspeakable things to people like her for absolutely nothing."

"Please, Dad..."

"I'm dying, James. And I know I've been a bastard to you and your mother in the past and I wish I could take it all back, but I can't. That's going to stay with you all your life. I can't help that. One thing I can leave with you that's any worth is my advice. Please. I know you like this girl, but... there are others. It's not a love-or-die situation. It'll hurt to lose her, yeah, but you'll move on and settle down with a girl who will love you as much as you deserve. James... I need to know that you'll do this."

James shook his head. "Would you have done that to Mum?"

Charlus was staring directly into his son's eyes. "Not once you were born, no. But... if I didn't have a life with her, then..." he trailed off as James did not look remotely surprised. He merely looked ashamed.

James kicked the gravel beneath his feet. He looked around them, at the sprawling grounds, at the quiet rural landscape he'd known for years. He'd been safe there.

But he knew, now, that safety and happiness were not mutually exclusive.

"Me and Lily want a life together. We've planned stuff. And there's not gunna be other girls after her. I wouldn't want anyone else."

Charlus looked frightened. "You might be killed."

"So?"

Charlus let go on his son's arm. He staggered back several feet, looking shocked.

"Dad?"

You know..." began Charlus. "In all the years of being your father, I've been happy... I've been angry... I've grieved and I've been resentful, but... this is the first time I've ever been disappointed."

James swallowed. "I know. You're disappointed that you got a stubborn prick for a son."

"Oh, no..." Charlus shook his head. "I'm disappointed that you got a monster for a father."

James' eyes inexplicably started to sting.

"Well... you know what they say. 'Learn by your parents mistakes'..."

"Dad..."

"Go. Enjoy your last weeks."

Charlus turned towards Flathurst House and trudged back up the path, leaving James speechless behind him.

When he got to the door, he turned sideways and looked at his son for the last time. "Give my love to Lily for me," he said, before disappearing inside the dark house and shutting the door.

oOo oOo oOo oOo oOo

A/N: Thank you for reading. Please review.

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