STEALING SHEEP
Chapter 18: Home
James stood before the house and took in the sight that so merrily greeted him home. The twinkling fairy lights danced across the expansive roof, making it look like a shimmering sea of pearls, and in the front garden, singing a rousing rendition of Jingle Bells, was a choir of jolly looking snowmen, even though it hadn't snowed once so far that winter.
A firm hand slapped him on the back and a voice sang, "Home sweet home, eh, Prongs?"
He managed a smile, heaved up his trunk and followed his best friend into the house.
As they stepped over the threshold, James felt relief sweep through him. He loved Hogwarts, he truly did; it always felt just like a more exciting version of home, with all its dusty old corridors and secret passageways, nooks and crannies, waiting to be taken advantage of…But home, real home, was this. The grand entrance hall was dominated by the large Christmas tree, haphazardly decorated, just how he liked it. The living room was covered, from top to bottom, in red and green and gold, in festive cheer and bucketfuls of Yuletide recollections. To him, home wasn't just a house, it was a mixture of past and present; a place of sweet smells, warm hearths and a haven for all his childhood memories.
His bedroom was far from how he'd left it. Obviously, it had been cleaned sometime during the past four months. It was far too neat for two teenage boys; the beds were made, the floor was clear of rubbish, and there was a strangely floral fragrance that was entirely too pleasant smelling. It only took the opening of a trunk for Sirius to create the necessary environment; within seconds there was the required cacophony of noisy posters, weird smells and numerous suspicious looking packages and ripped underwear strewn across the floor.
As James unpacked his own trunk (which contained of just two pairs of socks, four pairs of festive boxer shorts, and a bottle of Sirius' smuggled Firewhiskey), he forced himself to be cheerful. It was Christmas! The holiday of joy and happiness and the only time in the year when he could prance around the house charming things to be obnoxious and/ or insulting to passers by, and get away with it.
"Fancy a bit of the traditional gnome charming, Padfoot?" he asked, in an attempt to start off the holiday as he meant to go on.
Sirius paused in enthusiastically bouncing on his bed and grinned. "When have I ever refused you?"
After several arduous hours spent slaving over a hot gnome, their masterpieces were complete and a new army of Santa-Gnomes was ready to attack any carollers unfortunate enough to try their luck at the Potter household.
"I'm very disappointed in you, boys…You've been back less than a day and havoc ensues!" Mrs Potter said, after the third set of people were scared off by the creepily cheerful Santa-Gnomes. "And don't give me that innocent look, Sirius!"
"Oh, Mrs Potter, have I mentioned how lovely you-"
He was silenced with a glare. "Go to bed boys. And please try not to get into any mischief until at least tomorrow morning. That means no night time wanderings like last year, James Potter. I don't want to wake up to find out you've been skinny dipping in Mrs Westley's swimming pool again."
James was instantly outraged. "I explained that, mum! I was sleep walking, and, to be frank, I feel insulted that you would even think that I would be so immature as to-" Mrs Potter sent him a look that made him change tactics. "Off to bed with us, Sirius!"
James couldn't sleep that night. He'd spent two hours listening to Sirius talk incessantly about girls, Santa Claus, the mysterious bottle of something foul smelling that he'd found under his bed, and the merits of banana pancakes. It hadn't been even vaguely interesting, but trying to come up with methods of shutting Sirius up had occupied his mind for a while, which was all he could ask for at the moment.
She was still there. The second he stopped thinking, stopped talking, stopped desperately trying to come up with something to occupy himself, she crept into his thoughts and he was possessed by her all over again.
She had dumped him. Unceremoniously. Not that they were ever properly together. No one else had known, not even Sirius, which should have made it all easier for James. No one was looking at him with pity, no one was trying to cheer him up, no one was trying to make him get over her. So he was stuck with dealing with it all by himself. He was finding it rather difficult.
For starters, there was the fact that less than a week ago he had dreamt of his own death, which would understandably freak someone out. The second he had woken up from the flash of poisonous light, he had panicked, jumped out of bed, very nearly hysterical. After a few minutes, something had struck him. He had been married to Lily. And he had a son. He had the brief memory of a feeling of warmth and love and the irrepressible need to protect his family. If his dreams were premonitions then he would die. But, he would also spend months, maybe even years, with her. They would have a life together, and a child together. He was only eighteen, and yes, the idea of children did indeed scare him. But he had the firm recollection of the strength of that overwhelming love for his son, and that was enough.
He'd seen the look of horror in Lily's face as she'd stared at him. Her eyes had been dull with sudden horrific recollections and he knew then that he had lost her. She had watched him die. As he had looked at her then, standing there, deathly pale like a ghostly figment of his imagination, he had known that she was worth whatever happened to him. He would die a thousand deaths to spend just a few days with her. In those few moments, he had matured beyond anything he could have predicted.
He had tried to grab her and talk to her as they disembarked the Hogwarts Express at Platform 9 ¾, had tried to sort things out before they parted. She had avoided his eyes and softly said, "Don't. Please, James. Don't make it any harder."
With her words ringing through his head, James shoved back his bed covers and padded downstairs to check to see if Aphrodite, the family owl, had brought anything for him. Of course, he knew it was irrational that Lily would send him anything at one in the morning, would send him anything at all, but he just needed to check.
He entered the living room, yawning, and jumped about a foot in the air. "Dad!"
Mr Potter looked up from the telescope set up at the parlour's large window. "Hmm?"
"What do you think you're doing messing around in the middle of the night?" James asked, shaking a finger at his father.
"Stargazing."
"At one in the morning?"
"Well, it would be rather pointless during the day." Mr Potter straightened up from the telescope with a groan and smiled at his only son. "What are you doing up anyway?"
"Well, I, you know, couldn't sleep, so I just thought I'd, you know, check to see if Aphrodite brought any mail back with him tonight. Just for, you know, something to do," James said, scratching his head and trying to look nonchalant.
"Well," Mr Potter said, with a knowing smile. "You can tell me all about her over a stiff drink. Or, you know, some cocoa."
Embarrassment immediately heated James' face. "What? Her? There is no-"
"Of course there's a her." Mr Potter led the way into the kitchen where he began to conjure up some hot chocolate and biscuits. He paused, and looked at James, obviously trying to hide a grin. "Unless, of course, there's a him."
James spluttered and choked out, "It's a her! She's definitely a her."
"Why, of course she is." Mr Potter said, his eyes twinkling behind his round glasses, as he handed James a steaming mug of cocoa. "Does she have a name?"
"Er…yes, she does have a name…" James thought furiously, which was more difficult that it sounded. "Her name is…" He desperately glanced around the room for inspiration, his eyes landing on a potted miniature rose bush on a table in the corner. Of course, instead of going for the very respectable name of 'Rose', he chose a less logical path. "Plant!….ilda."
"Plant…ilda?" Mr Potter repeated, following his gaze to the rose bush, and trying to hide a grin. "Unusual name."
"Yes…her family are…foreign. From totally different country. Totally weird and different country. France! She's French!"
"French, eh? Ooh, la, la!" Mr Potter laughed as he took a seat at the dining table. "So, what's she like, this Plantilda? Other than being French, of course. Let me guess; she's green, prickly, and has to be watered on a daily basis!"
"Very funny," James said, glaring at his father.
"Does she wear a beret?" Mr Potter was openly giggling now over his hot chocolate.
"I'm glad someone finds my love life amusing."
"Oh, come on, James! Plantilda? I thought I'd taught you better than that! Come up with a plausible fake name, if you must." Mr Potter frowned suddenly. "She's not a Professor, is she?"
"DAD!" James was horrified. "No, its not a professor! If you must know, she's in my year."
"Oh, good. I'm glad I don't need to face McGonagall as a potential daughter-in-law."
James choked on his cocoa, and flushed as red as a muggle post box. He would never be able to look at McGonagall in the same way again.
"So, what's she like? Would I like her?"
He sighed and stared into his hot chocolate. He didn't want to talk about the real her. It would bring up too many emotions, dredge up too many questions that had been left unanswered…
Mr Potter put a hand on his shoulder and James looked up into his father's rapidly aging face to see concern there. "What's wrong, James?"
"Nothing. I…" he trailed off, unable to think of any credible excuse for his obvious reluctance.
"You're not yourself, James," his father said seriously, making James look up at him. "Your mother's worried about you, you know. You might try to blow it off and act normal but we're your parents. You can't fool us. Is it to do with your girl?"
James lowered his head and sighed, knowing he had to answer truthfully. "She's not really my girl but…yes."
"Ah. Unrequited love." Mr Potter nodded sagely.
James shifted uncomfortably and said, "Its not really unrequited either though. Its just…extremely complicated."
"It always is, son. You'll never find a romance that's simple."
"I know. But this is…extremely complicated. Extremely," James said, seriously.
Mr Potter leaned forward, suddenly, frowning. "She's not pregnant, is she?"
"No!" James exclaimed, nearly jumping out of his seat. "Bloody hell, dad! Not that complicated. Merlin's beard, if I even attempted to…well, Lily'd most likely castrate-"
"Lily?" his father interrupted, with a sudden beaming grin. "Lily Evans? The Lily Evans that you've been moaning about being extremely boring and horrible for the past forever?"
"Erm…" James squirmed. "Maybe."
"Oh, this is too good! Brilliant!" chuckled Mr Potter. "Your mother always did insist that you must have a crush on her to always be talking about how disgusting she is. Wait a minute…why hasn't Sirius sung it from the rooftops yet?"
"Because he doesn't know. Nobody knows, except me and Lily, and, well, now you," James said.
"I see." Mr Potter studied him from over the top of his glasses, pensively, and said, "Do you love Lily, James?"
Memories swept across his mind; the image of Lily jokingly smouldering at him from within the circle of his arms, Lily drenched in the Quidditch changing rooms showers, grinning at him, Lily laughing in the moonlight at something he'd actually said to make her laugh…and he knew the answer. He raised his head and looked his father directly in the eyes. "Yes. I do."
"Are you sure, son?"
" I love how she makes me feel. I love that I can make her laugh, that I can make her happy. I…I've never been- I mean, I've never felt as-" James stared into the distance for a second, then met his fathers gaze once again. " I've never felt as alive as when I'm with her."
Mr Potter stared at him for a few moments, his brow furrowed as he considered his son's words. He slowly broke into a smile. "Then she's worthy of you."
James frowned to himself as the pieces finally fit together. He loved her. It was pure and simple. He would fight, live and die for her. That was it. He would fight for her.
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A/N: First thing I want to say is that I loved writing Mr Potter.
Sorry. Sorry about the wait. I have many excuses but the main reason is just that I'm lazy. I suddenly glanced at it a few days ago though and realised that it was festive so I better finish it before its out of season.
Thanks go out to all my faithful reviewers who have kept reviewing, encouraging me to write more. Thanks for the inspiration!
Another strange thing about this is that the James perspective was intended to only be the beginning half of this chapter, but it grew and grew into a really long chapter. So I split it in half and this chapter and the next were once a giant chapter. So, for once, the next chapter will be ready within a few days- I just need to type it up.
So please please review and shout at me if you must about the long long wait. The more reviews I get, the quicker I will upload the next chapter.
Thanks!