Chapter 25: A whispered conversation

'2:36am' the luminescent hands of his alarm clock told him. James threw an arm over his head and groaned. He tried to grasp at the last strands of his dream, to snuggle back into the comfortable position he'd held an instant ago, but to no avail – his mind was awake.

After the day he'd had, it was hardly a surprise that he'd have a restless night. He was never one for great sleep, even at the best of times. Unlike Lily… He removed his arm from his face and looked to his left where his lovely wife was snoring softly into her pillow, almost entirely buried under the duvet apart from a plume of red hair.

He mustn't have had more than a couple of hours' sleep. The evening had been chaotic. The children had picked up on the unsettled atmosphere. Sam had been grouchy and clingy, Anna overly talkative and Vi her surly self, only briefly cheered by the promise that she'd be allowed to go visit her friend Josh the following week. Harry had seemed to want to fade into the background, wolfing down his dinner and scarpering to his room as soon as he'd cleaned up his plate.

Bedtime had been trying, and he and Lily had collapsed into bed several hours past their usual bedtime. Lily, of course, had fallen asleep immediately while he tossed and turned, eventually falling into a restless sleep only to be woken up after what felt like seconds by a tug against his consciousness.

With a sigh, James shuffled around a bit longer before giving up. He slipped out of the covers, shivering in the cool night air. Grabbing his glasses, his wand and a discarded jumper, he made his way down the stairs.

The house was as familiar to him by night as it was by day, he allowed the light of the waxing moon to lead him down the steps. He was about to take the second flight of stairs to the ground floor when a sound caught his attention.

A whispered conversation. The creak of a floorboard… James squinted at the dark corridor behind him. Sam's door stood ajar. James hesitated for a second, before deciding he'd best just check that everything was alright.

He shouldn't have been surprised, really, James thought with a wry smile, to find Harry sat on the edge of Sam's bed.

"I'm sorry," the boy was saying. "I mean… that my – our mum and dad died because of me."

"Mum said that it wasn't your fault," Sam whispered back. Harry shrugged. "She said that it was Voldemort?" Sam's voice had taken a questioning edge.

Harry sighed. "It was – but he was coming for me…"

"Why?"

"Because he thought I was dangerous." Here Harry seemed to hesitate. Could it be…? James wondered – but before he could even finish that thought, Harry carried on. "There's this prophecy." James took a sharp breath. "It was a secret in my world – but not anymore."

"What's a pross– a proph–?"

"A prophecy. It's a prediction. A story about something that is going to happen."

Sam nodded. "What did it say?"

Harry sighed again. "That a baby born at the end of July would kill Voldemort. Basically…"

Sam frowned. "A baby? He was scared of a baby?"

Harry gave a soft laugh. "Yeah, a baby. It's silly right?"

Sam nodded. "My friend Archie has a brother that's a baby. It can't do anything at all."

"But Voldemort was still afraid of me."

"So he tried to kill you?"

"He did."

"And Mum and Dad died?"

Harry nodded. "Because they wanted to protect me…"

Sam looked thoughtful, when he spoke again it was in such a soft whisper that James had to step closer to catch what he was saying.

"When I was little, someone tried to kill me too."

James's heart gave a little stutter.

"What?" Harry asked sharply.

"Mum and Dad think I can't remember – but I do. And when the man tried to take me away from the house, Dad shouted that the man would have to kill him first before he let him take me."

Harry leaned forward. "And then what happened?"

"Dad fought with the man, and Uncle Padfoot and the Aurors arrived, and Dad took me away."

"So," Sam carried on looking up at Harry seriously, "You know, I don't think it's your fault… Dad said that's what parents do, protect their family. It's good that you didn't die."

Oh Sammy… James's throat suddenly felt tight and he had to blink away the tears that were obstructing his vision.

It was a strange choice of words but seemed to do something to Harry too. The boy made a strangled noise and Sam looked up at him worriedly.

"Don't cry! I said it was a good thing!"

Harry gave a sniff. "'m not crying," he said thickly. "And thank you." He reached forward, a hand hovering over Sam's, who saw his gesture and took Harry's hand in both of his.

James was about to tiptoe way, deciding he had intruded long enough, when Sam's next words stopped him.

"What happened to Voldemort?"

"He disappeared the night he tried to kill me," Harry said.

"He disappeared?"

Harry nodded.

"Like what happened here?" Sam asked.

"I think so…"

"But you said…" Sam frowned in concentration. "He came back. And then you fought him, and he lost. Didn't he?"

James's leaned forward. What was that all about?

"That's right," Harry sighed.

"So is he going to come back here as well?"

Sam sounded so scared, it took all of James's will power not to walk in, hug his son and tell him that everything would be ok.

"I don't know…" Harry said. He paused for a moment, picked up Sam's hand again, more readily this time. "But while I'm here, I'm going to make sure he doesn't."

Sam nodded, then caught Harry's peculiar phrasing. His sharp eyes found Harry's. "You're going away…?"

"I don't know," Harry said again. "I think… I think I heard Hermione in my dream earlier. My Hermione. Maybe that means that I'm starting to go back…"

At this, Sam looked even more scared than before. "Don't go!"

There were tears in his voice. Harry's shoulders tensed.

"I don't want to, but I don't know if I'll have a choice… Maybe I just don't belong here. Sam, your Harry, your brother – he died. I'll never be him – what he would've been if he'd grown up in this world."

"But that doesn't matter to me," Sam said, starting to sob. "I w-want you to stay!" And with that, he launched himself at Harry.

Clearly, that took the boy by surprise. He just about managed to open his arms in time to catch Sam. Clumsily at first, he patted him on the head. It was almost as if, James though, it was the first time he'd had to comfort someone crying. But gradually, Harry seemed to relax and started rubbing Sam's back gently.

"I can't promise you I'll stay, but if I do have to go back…" Harry's voice broke. "At least we'll have gotten to know each other a little. That's something, right? And if we're very lucky, we'll still have our dreams."

He carried on talking, but Sam was crying so hard it drowned out Harry's next word – and James found himself having to retreat before either boy could hear the sob that was threatening to choke him.

As fast and quietly as he could, James retraced his steps up to his room. The bed was still warm as he slipped under the duvet. Too gently to wake her up, James ran a hand along Lily's back, reassured to find it warm, to find her breathing deeply underneath his fingertips. It helped dispel some of the unease he'd felt at Harry's words – the prophecy, Voldemort coming back, Harry leaving… it all merged together as he drifted back into sleep and dreamt of Harry and Sam, hand in hand, facing off a giant serpent.

A/N: Happy Monday everyone! Hope you've enjoyed this chapter.