Chapter Twenty (James' Memories)

"James, are you ready to go?"

James whirled around, a panicked look on his face as he—rather belatedly—recalled that he was supposed to be taking Lily-flower out for dinner tonight. It was some sort of anniversary for something—their first date? Their first kiss? James honestly couldn't recall, nor did he understand how his wife expected him to keep all these things straight when he could barely remember where he left his wand in the morning—and when Lily had suggested (read: ordered) him to take her someplace nice, he'd absently agreed.

He'd been in the middle of a staring contest with Padfoot! Of course he'd not been paying attention.

Merlin, James thought, horrified, as he began tearing through the closet to find something 'publically appropriate' to wear. This meant he couldn't wear his favorite Gryffindor-themed robes, since apparently bright red and gold were not 'colors suited for the real world, James.' I sure hope Moony knows the countercurse to the castration charm.

He winced remembering that particularly creative threat. And, knowing Lily, if a castration charm didn't already exist, it likely would by the time she needed it. He crossed his legs reflexively as he pulled out a set of sedate blue robes that he was pretty sure Lily had approved of on a previous outing. He was also pretty sure he hadn't worn them in a while, so she probably wouldn't call him out on his 'lack of creativity.'

Honestly! Him! Uncreative! He was a Marauder! Creativity was in his blood, damn it!

"James Charlus Potter, get down here this instant!"

Uh-oh. She'd upgraded to his full name. That was never a good sign, no matter what female was using it. He could hear her marching up the stairs, and briefly his mind blanked with terror as he imagined having to explain to the love of his life that he'd forgotten whatever anniversary he was meant to be celebrating today.

"Oh, honestly James. I know you love looking at yourself, but we're going to be late!"

James blinked back into reality, finding himself standing in front of the mirror inside his closet, dressed in his robes and with everything in place. A cocky grin fixed itself on his face as he performed an internal victory dance. Ha! His subconscious was so awesome that it managed to dress him entirely on its own!

Hm. Maybe he should worry about that, but he was far more interested in how lovely Lily looked in that dress. Those muggleborns who thought robes looked like dresses had obviously never seen a real woman wearing a dress, as far as James was concerned. Those stuck-up purebloods didn't know what they were missing. Wizarding dress robes had nothing on muggle dresses.

"You look gorgeous, Lily-flower," James grinned, raking fingers through his hair.

Lily smirked slightly back at him, obviously unimpressed with his stalling. "I know. That's why you asked me to marry you, James."

James frowned sternly at her. He had actually married her because she was brilliant and funny and amazing and the single most generous soul he'd ever met. Anyone who could put up with Snivellus for that many years without throwing up had to be a saint. "Don't be ridiculous. I didn't marry you for your looks!" Grinning wide, James leered at her as he made measuring motions around his chest. "I married you for your great—"

Lily interrupted him by whacking him upside the head with her muggle handbag, pursing her lips as she tried not to laugh. "Oh James. What am I ever going to do with you…?"

"JAMES CHARLUS POTTER, IF YOU EVER TOUCH ME AGAIN I'LL GELD YOU LIKE A HORSE!"

James flinched, ignoring Padfoot howling with laughter beside him. The utter bastard. Sirius wasn't the one who'd had his wedding tackle threatened, so of course the man was able to laugh. James couldn't remember what laughter even felt like anymore, not since Lily had been screaming and cursing his name.

Was it supposed to take this long? He didn't know if he could take the stress if he had to listen to this for much longer. Would Lily be offended if he asked the mediwitch to put up a silencing ward?

From the look of disapproval on Moony's face, he figured the answer was probably yes.

"She'll be fine, James," Moony soothed. Good 'ol Moony. At least James had one supportive friend here today. "This is perfectly normal, and once she's feeling better she'll stop threatening to castrate you."

"Did she ever make that charm, Prongs?" Padfoot grinned, still sniggering.

James winced. "Yes. She demonstrated it on a target dummy. I've never felt so bad for a piece of wood before."

Padfoot abruptly stopped laughing. "Wait, you're serious?"

"No, you're Sirius," James replied automatically. They'd been friends for so long he barely even acknowledged that joke anymore, even when he was the one making it. "There was definitely a hole in that target that hadn't been there before. And it was in a very unfortunate place."

Padfoot shifted in place and folded his legs, looking decidedly uncomfortable. "Oh."

James smirked. "Yes, oh. Why do you think I'm taking Lily-flower's threats so seriously?"

"Siriusly?" Padfoot half-joked, still looking rather spooked with the knowledge that the wife of his best mate knew a curse to castrate someone. There definitely hadn't been anything like that in the Hogwarts library. Hell, the Black library didn't even have anything like that in it, at least not in the books Sirius had read.

"Where's Peter?" James asked an amused Moony in a blatant attempt to change the subject. "I haven't seen him around lately, but I was sure he'd be here at least."

Moony frowned. "His grandmother is sick again, I think. He mentioned something about it at the last Order meeting. You know, the one you spent hexing Sirius under the table instead of paying attention?"

James opened his mouth to deny such horrendous accusations laid upon him by his dear werewolf friend, when another scream sounded from the hospital room he'd been kicked out of about half an hour ago after Lily broke his hand.

The scream was followed by a beat of silence, and then the wailing of a newborn drowned out everything else. James could not have stayed out of that room if Voldemort himself had cursed him there. He barely even noticed the wards set to keep him out—his own magic simply tore through them as he burst through the door and caught a glimpse of the pale, sweaty face of his wife.

She was holding a little pink thing swathed in blankets against her chest, and she had never been so beautiful.

"Is that…?" James asked, almost breathless. Was this his son? His child? His little Prongslett?

"Come and meet your son, James," Lily smiled tiredly at him, looking radiant and perfect despite the exhaustion permeating her very being.

James staggered over to the chair he'd been using before being unceremoniously tossed out on his ear, collapsing into it as if it had been him giving birth minutes ago and not Lily. He reached over with trembling hands and brought the bundle to his chest, looking down into a screwed-up little face as it wiggled unhappily in his arms.

The little baby—his son! His child! His!—opened up its eyes and newborn-blue met astonished hazel. Immediately and irrevocably, James fell in love. This was beyond the love he felt for Lily, for his parents, for magic itself.

"Hello Harry," James whispered, smiling as the baby stopped fussing and stared at him in fuzzy fascination. "I'm your daddy."

I'm his daddy, James thought dizzily. He was a father. He could hardly believe he wasn't dreaming.

"Don't hog him all to yourself, Prongs!" Padfoot's voice broke through, and James only heard him as if from a great distance. He did notice when Padfoot attempted to take Harry from him, only for James to clutch him tighter as if afraid the baby would vanish into thin air should he leave his hold. "Prongs?"

James blushed slightly, smiling apologetically as he let Sirius take hold of his godson for the first time. Moony was hovering in the doorway, smiling at them but not getting too close. James was disappointed, but he understood. He was always afraid to hold fragile things because he still underestimated his own strength sometimes, even after all these years. James would have trusted the werewolf to hold his son, but Moony wouldn't have trusted himself to do likewise.

"You made a handsome kid, Prongs," Padfoot grinned, offering the baby back to an exasperated Lily who had been looking a bit put-out that her son was being passed around without her input.

James leaned over and wrapped an arm around his tired wife, looking down at their son in her arms. "Yeah," he smiled, pressing a kiss to Lily's hair even as Padfoot and Moony snuck out of the room. "We sure did."

"Your son is floating, James," Lily's idle voice commented from beside him on the sofa.

James looked up to see that, indeed, his son was floating. Right out of his crib, in fact. Leaping to his feet, James snatched the giggling boy out of the air and sat back down with him clutched to his chest. He glanced over to see Lily smirking into the book she'd been reading.

"Why is he always my son whenever his accidental magic kicks in?" James whined.

It was rather impressive, actually. Most children didn't display any magic until they were at least two or three, and little Harry had been animating his toys since he was nine months old. James had wanted to brag to everyone he knew that his son was such a little prodigy, but Lily had put her foot down. The last thing they wanted was to bring attention to Harry's powerful magic, especially in the middle of a war. James had been ashamed of himself once reason had kicked in, but Lily had assured him that that was what wives were for. That she'd said this with a smirk had had James sulking for a full week.

Lily had indulgently allowed James to tell Sirius about Harry's accidental magic, but only after he swore an oath of secrecy about it. Lily took the protection of her son very seriously, and James almost pitied the first person who tried anything while she was around. He wanted to tell Moony and Peter, but Wormtail had been absent so often that he never really had the chance, and the Order kept insisting that Moony was likely a spy for Voldemort due to his status as a dark creature. James thought this was absolutely ridiculous. Moony was the last person likely to be a spy, right behind Sirius and James himself. Not only did he hate his werewolf side with a vengeance, but he was a naturally gentle and caring person who wouldn't have hurt a fly if it landed in his tea.

James grinned at little Harry who smiled back, waving around his little hands and blinking those huge green eyes up at him. James was glad that Harry had gotten Lily's eyes, even if the rest of him was pretty much himself in miniature. He hoped he inherited her eyesight as well; James had hated his glasses as a child, and didn't want his own son to suffer wearing them.

James frowned when Harry's face shifted to a rather intense one that he didn't recognize, and had just started getting worried when Harry sneezed in James' face.

James paused, even as Lily snorted and clapped a hand to her face to stifle the sudden, inexplicable laughter. He turned and pouted at her, which only made her double over as she laughed into the book pressed to her face. Harry, hearing his mum laughing, started giggling along.

It would take James an hour to realize he now sported an impressive pair of antlers and the ears to go with them.

"What's this about Albus?" James asked impatiently, wanting to return home to Lily and Harry and cuddle a bit. He felt like his manliness went down every time he admitted to himself that he liked cuddling his son, but it was so worth it. He wondered what Frank was doing there, though; he had a son of his own about Harry's age, and there was no way Dumbledore had called them here for a mission if they both had babies at home.

Right?

Albus' face was grave. "It is time, James."

James paled, and saw Frank reacting similarly to his left. Albus had told them about the prophecy surrounding their boys, and insisted that they go under the Fidelius in case Voldemort hunted them. James had protested, insisting that the wards on Potter Manor were more than sufficient to keep out a Dark Lord and his followers. Longbottom Manor was likewise warded, and neither Frank nor James had felt inclined to take the old man up on his 'offer.'

But if Albus was bringing it up again, that meant Voldemort was either getting far too close to their location for comfort, or something else horrible had happened that the man wasn't likely to tell them about until 'the time was right.' James trusted Albus, sure, but the Headmaster was terribly annoying when he withheld information from them.

"There have been Death Eaters sighed in the area near the Manor, James. It is time to move."

"Can't we just put the Fidelius up on Potter Manor?" James asked desperately. He didn't want to abandon the Manor he'd grown up in. He had hoped his son could grow up there like all the Potters had done before him, but if the look on Albus' face was any indication, that wasn't about to happen.

"There is not enough space on the wardstone to hold such a powerful ward in addition to the others, James," Albus insisted kindly. "It would best if you moved to a different property and allowed me to put it under Fidelius as soon as possible." He turned to Frank briefly. "There have yet to be sightings near Longbottom Manor, but I thought I should offer the same just in case."

Some color returned to Frank's face, and he frowned briefly as he shook his head. "No thank you Albus. Alice and I will trust in the wards on the manor to keep us safe."

"Very well," Albus conceded easily enough. James thought that was odd, but was quickly distracted as the old man went on. "James, I'd like to suggest the property in Godric's Hollow. Those who know of the wealth of Potter Manor would not expect you to relocate to such a humble building."

James grimaced. Well that was certainly true. James had become rather accustomed to the wealth and comfort of the manor, and downgrading to the little house on Godric's Hollow would certainly be an effective diversion tactic, if nothing else. "All right. I'll talk to Lily about getting ready to move."

"Have you chosen who should act as Secret Keeper? It would be best to keep them informed as well," Albus reminded him.

"Yeah," James grinned, proud of his plan. "We'll be using Peter, but Sirius is going to act as decoy since he's the one everyone will expect us to use."

Albus' eyes began to twinkle. "Very clever, my boy. I shall prepare the ritual to ward the property once you're ready."

"Thanks Albus," James said, relieved. He would feel much better once his family was under such an unbreakable ward. And he trusted Peter with his life. Now that both Albus and Frank were in on the plan, even if—Merlin forbid—Peter were captured and tortured into giving up the location, Sirius wouldn't have any heat fall on him in retribution.

"Of course, dear boy. I'm always happy to be of assistance."

James glanced over his shoulder, double-checking that Lily was still asleep and prodding at the ward around Harry's crib that would alert him should his son wake up. He quietly closed the door to the washroom and silenced the room, turning to stare into the mirror and took a steadying breath.

He'd been collecting memories to put in Harry's trust vault for a while now, wanting to be sure that his son could grow up knowing him even if the worst should happen. He was not a naïve little boy anymore. James was an auror, and he knew perfectly well that causalities were inevitable in war, whether he was on active duty or not.

Hopefully, Harry would never need to watch any of these because he would live to a ripe old age and could impart his manly wisdom on his son firsthand. Tonight he'd be making the last memory to go in The Box, which he'd willed to Harry, of course. Lily had her own memories that she'd decided to put into The Box, none of which she'd allowed James to watch. In a bit of sulking retribution, he'd made sure not to show her his memories either, and was even making this one specifically on his own without her knowing.

He couldn't let Lily corrupt his precious son against him! Knowing her, all her memories would be of him making a fool of himself at Hogwarts, which was an unacceptable way to introduce himself to his son!

Turning back to the mirror, James cleared his throat self-consciously and attempted to tame his wilder-than-usual hair. It was always worse after he rolled out of bed, which he'd just done to sneak in here in the middle of the night. Frowning at his reflection, James flicked his wand and transfigured his slacks into a more respectable set of red and gold robes. There. That was better.

Grinning at himself, he shoved his hands in his pockets and wondered where to begin.

"Hey there, Prongslett. It's, uh, me. James. Your dad. Of course you knew that, but, well," he coughed uncomfortably. Maybe he should have rehearsed this or something. "Anyway! If all goes well you'll never have to watch this and see how bad your dad is at talking about his feelings, so I guess it doesn't matter much how awkward this comes out. This should be the last time I'll have to pull out a memory—thank Merlin—and I wanted to make it a little more personal than the others. Not that seeing your mother being beautiful or me being my handsome self is boring or anything, but you understand." James ran his fingers through his hair as he frowned. "This is very strange. I hope you appreciate this, Prongslett, because talking to myself in the bathroom mirror is something I'd expect out of Padfoot. He's your godfather, by the way. Merlin only knows what I'd been thinking when I decided that. I must have been drunk. Yes, that's probably it." Nodding firmly to himself, James grinned. "Tomorrow's Halloween, you know. Your mother has you dressing up as a lion, with ears and everything! I will never let you live this down, Prongslett. Never." He smirked to himself before sighing. "You know I love you, right Harry? I've loved you since the first time your mother put you in my hands. Since before that, even!" James cleared his throat, feeling the ward around Harry's crib twinging and deciding to wrap this up and go cuddle his son where Lily couldn't catch him and hog him all for herself. "No matter what happens, I'll always love you Prongslett. Even if you…" James swallowed heavily, grimacing. "Even if you married Snape." He shuddered, trying to shake off the very thought. "Don't, though. Really. You can do much better than Snape." The ward started humming, letting him know that Harry had just woken up and was feeling grumpy. "I gotta run, Prongslett. It's time to go cuddle you a bit—and doesn't that thought just boggle the mind?—before your baby-hogging mother hides you somewhere all for herself."

Grinning at the mirror, James snuck back out the bathroom and headed for his son's nursery. He couldn't wait to see Harry in that lion outfit. He would be taking a lot of blackmail photos for when he was older. James was looking forward to it.