volumetwo | (no subject)

James can hear the anger in his father's voice, can see it briefly on his face when he steps forward, and he inhales a sharp breath of alarm when Harry's hands land on his shoulders. He resists, but only for a split second, and it's clear following that that he's steeling himself for the worst. When he hears the What the hell are you thinking? he's sure that all of his worst fears have just been confirmed, that this is it, that his life with his family is over.

And then Harry explains, tells him he loves him - loves, present tense, not past - and James feels like the floor drops out beneath his feet. No. No, no, that wasn't what he was expecting at all, and it's probably a good thing that Harry hasn't let go of his shoulders, because he is suddenly very dizzy.

"But I'm a Potter, da." The words sound pitiful, childish, even in his own ears. "I'm not supposed to be gay. I'm - really not supposed to like a Malfoy. People are going to talk." Didn't Harry understand the gravity of this? And then James blurts the next thing without thinking about it, says the one thing that had thrown him so off-kilter for so long, had made accepting this relationship with Scorpius so, so intensely difficult. "I'm broken."

Being gay was fine, but not when he was. It was deeply flawed thinking that he'd never allowed himself to dwell on. He was the oldest boy - there were expectations of him. How was he supposed to handle not living up to those?

"No," Harry snaps, his grip only tightening. "No, James. You are not broken. Do you hear me? There is nothing wrong with you, and if anybody thinks differently then that's their problem, not yours."

Harry is suddenly incredibly angry. At the world, even at James a little bit, for letting his surname get the better of him. Harry had tried very hard to give them a normal life, but he couldn't erase what he'd done, nor would he ever want to. It was just that where most people saw a hero who could do no wrong, Harry knew better. He'd thought he'd taught his children that much at least, if nothing else.

"I don't give a shit if people talk." He never had, although Ginny will certainly point out it'll make life more difficult for Al and Lily if anyone were to find out. "You're my son, there is nothing wrong with you, and you are free to date anyone you want, so long as the relationship is consensual." Which, God, he hopes it is. That's a conversation he really doesn't want to have.

It will occur to James later, much later, that he was doing his father an extreme disservice here -- that of course he should have known that both of his parents loved him unconditionally, that neither of them had ever done anything to even suggest otherwise. It was just too much at once: trying to figure out what the hell adulthood meant, what he was supposed to be doing with his life, what he was supposed to be doing as a Potter, if it made him some sort of monster to love Draco Malfoy's son. Generally, James was a happy, bright fellow, but when he let himself dwell on these thoughts too long, it sent him into a fit of self-loathing that made reason hard to see.

If he couldn't stand himself, how could he expect his father to? Except there Harry was, fingers digging into his shoulders and telling him that he did, and James has no idea how to answer. Numb, he searches Harry's face, and while he finds anger in spades, he can't locate any disgust.

"You don't hate me," he finally says, something breaking in his expression. "You really don't." Quietly, like this is some new, profound discovery, like this changes everything -- which it does, truly.

"Merlin, no, of course not," Harry says, brows knitting together a bit more and the anger in his expression giving way to something else. "You'd have to do a lot worse than this for me to even consider hating you, James. And I mean a lot worse. Like torturing Muggles or calling yourself Voldemort worse."

A smile almost breaks through, threatens to anyway.

"I'm shocked. I think that's understandable, yeah?"

"Between you and me, I was pretty shocked, too," James mumbles, and ducks his head to rub some unbidden tears away from his eyes as surreptitiously as he possibly can. "But I promise not to ever torture any Muggles, da. You know I can't even deal with torturing Lily too long before her yelling drives me completely batty."

It's half-hearted, but he's trying so, so hard.

"Very true," Harry agrees. He spends another few moments in silence just looking at James, how tortured his eldest son looks. Those tears, even if they haven't fallen, don't go unnoticed either. He's been trained to see things others miss. And right now, he sees everything. The tenseness still etched into James's posture, the sag of his mouth even when he tries to joke, the wipe of tears.

Harry can't help it. He pulls James up off the arm of the couch and into a hug, squeezing him tight.

"It's all right, though, honestly," he says, keeping James close. "Please don't ever think I'd throw you away over something like this."

It takes James a second to figure out how he should be responding to this. A hug was literally the last way that he expected this exchange to go, and when he realizes that things might actually be okay, he sort of melts into the hug. After a moment of lingering hesitation, his own arms go up, gingerly hugging Harry back, before it turns into a tighter squeeze. For a little while, James lets himself cling to his father, as if he can't believe his luck.

"I love him, da," he says, because if he's not honest now, he's not sure he ever will be. "And he loves me, too, and I'm sorry that I didn't tell you, but I was scared. I was really scared."

Harry takes a breath in. It's...a lot. A lot to take in, and James just seems to keep shocking him. It's not like Harry is blind; he and Ginny had sort of thought Al might turn out to be gay, and after Ginny confessed she'd 'experimented with girls' in Hogwarts, it was sort of an eye opener for Harry to the world of sex and youth. He'd never had time for any of that. Who knew where he'd have wound up if he had.

Still, knowing that James considered himself gay, that he and Scorpius were in love... It was a lot. And admittedly, the whole thing didn't settle right in his stomach.

"It's all right," he says anyway, rubbing James's back for a minute. "I understand. Well, I mean I don't understand, but I understand." Harry laughed a bit, diffusing some of the tension as he pulled back and smiled at James. "I'd be happier for you if Scorpius was out of school, but...he's... I mean, you two didn't...before he was..." Harry knew Al was of legal age in these sorts of things, but was Scorpius?

"Da," James mumbles, leaning back away from him. He's admittedly soothed a lot by the way Harry rubs his back, and he ducks his head to desperately try to hide the wondrous sort of half-smile on his own face. It's an expression of pure relief, as if he can't actually believe that this is real, that this is happening.

That maybe things are going to be okay. Maybe he's going to be okay.

James opens his mouth, starts to say something again, and then finally just kind of jerks forward, grabbing him into another hug.

It's been a while since any of his children wanted to hug him, and Harry can't say it's been pleasant to wait for the moment when they would again. Having James jerk into him, pull him close, it sort of breaks Harry's heart in the way only a familial relationship can. Harry returns the hug, just as tightly as he did the first time.

"I know, I know," he says, laughing a little. No child wants to hear their parent ask about their sex life. But, hey, that's kind of his job, to ensure James is being safe at the very least.

For now, he lifts a hand and runs it through James's hair, like he did when James was a little boy and had a nightmare.

"Will you let me be the one to break it to mum?"

That hand through his hair takes him back to the sort of feeling of safety and security he had when he was a little kid, when things were clear and everything made sense. He breathes softly, lingering there, trying to cling to this feeling as long as he possibly can.

"And- and Al, too, he deserves to hear it from me. Scor was his friend first. And- Merlin, this is such a nightmare. He's going to kill me." Pulse still hammering in his throat, he leans his forehead against his father's shoulder. "...thanks. Thank you. A lot."

"Of course," Harry agrees, letting James slump against him. He'll take this for as long as he can. "It's not my place to tell any of them, and you need to do it on your own terms, when you're ready." He kissed the top of James's head, keeping him held close. "Although you know your mum; she'd rather hear it sooner than later. It won't change her love for you, I know that much."

Harry lingered there for a moment longer, and then gentle leaned back, trying to catch James's gaze.

"This doesn't mean you're not in trouble, though. Scorpius is still in school. You should know better than to encourage him sneaking out. I'll have to inform the Headmaster."

James's face flushes red when Harry leans back, and for a moment he actually looks cross. Not at Harry, but vaguely, maybe, at the Malfoy boy. "I don't encourage him," he frowns, finally - if reluctantly - stepping back from the embrace with his dad. "I try to make him stay. He has enough trouble at school without getting sent to polish grandpa's trophies for trying to sneak off campus."

This is, apparently, an argument he has a lot.

"And he can't use magic, either, when he's out, what if he gets hurt?" Ah - and that's where the frustration comes from.

There's a sudden swell of pride in Harry that at least James was trying. Even though it didn't look much like it when Harry had walked in, the argument sounded tried and true, not likely something James just made up to get out of his father's bad side.

"That...would have been my argument, too, yeah," he agrees, rubbing James's shoulders briefly before he pulls back and gives James his space.

For all of his compelling arguments, James is a teenage boy, and some manners of persuasion are harder to resist than others. James rubs at the back of his neck, still more than just a little sheepish, eyes on his own feet.

"So, um. What next?" Because this isn't something he ever thought might be possible.

"For you?" Harry smiles. "Get some rest. And try your best not to stress yourself out. For me..." That's when Harry's smile wanes a bit. "I need to talk to the Headmaster. I'll try to keep your name and the, erm, details out of it, but Hogwarts will want to know, as will the Ministry, that the school isn't as protected as we thought. If Scorpius can just walk out, we've got a problem."

"Well-" James struggles with this for a second, not sure what he should be saying here, how he should be reacting. "Maybe - can you talk to Scor first? Just- you know. He's probably pretty freaked out, too, and he'll probably be more forthright with information if he doesn't think you're about to crucify him and kick me out of the family."

He flushes again, just at bringing up his earlier fears.

"Easier to patch up the holes if you know what they are."

If James wasn't his son, Harry couldn't say what his decision would be. He's supposed to be clear-headed, no matter what. In all fairness, he should turn this over to someone else who isn't emotionally invested, but the simple fact is: Harry would do anything for his family. And maybe that will include Scorpius someday, a thought that's as weird as Hermione suddenly procuring a house-elf.

"Right," he says, rubbing the back of his neck in a similar motion to James's earlier one. "That's probably best, yeah." Looking at James, both brows lifted. "Can you contact him? Otherwise, I'll need to find him at Hogwarts, and I'm sure it'll draw some attention."

"Yeah, er..."

James's face flushes red again, but this time it's with the kind of sheepish grin that's actually a little pleased.

"He's got a Muggle phone so we can text."

"....Didn't see that one coming."

Now there's something to worry over: Malfoy's only son, using a Muggle cell phone to text Harry's kid. It would be funny if not for the situation they're currently in.

"Right, well... Can you text him? Let him know I need to talk to him, privately, and you can fill him in on the fact that there's absolutely no way I'd ever disown any of my children, especially for something like this." He grins, a little. "I'll head to Hogwarts now, then the Ministry if needed. And...I'll do my best, James. Honest. If this doesn't need to go any further, I won't let it."

"I love my owl, dad, but letters just take too long when you can just use a phone." Which was something a lot of the older wizards at the ministry still struggled with. "Grandpa started texting me the other day, too. Didn't make a lick of sense. Meant to show you at work earlier today."

James chews on his lower lip, but he straightens up as he does -- posture unconsciously prouder, head a little higher. It's amazing how much lighter he feels with so much of that internalized shame lifted. If his Da says it's going to be okay, then maybe it really will be.

"Yeah, I'll let him know."

"Merlin help you if Arthur is texting now," Harry said, unable to help the laugh that bubbled out. He'd always been so fascinated by Muggle things; it wasn't really shocking he'd try out a cell phone. Who even knew, though, how he managed to get it to work, let alone send a text to James. No doubt Molly was unaware of his new toy.

"All right. I'll go, then. And James..." He reached out, gripping James's shoulder. "I love you."

James glances at him again, trying not to seem surprised by the remark. He hesitates, concerned, before reaching up to gently touch Harry's hand with his own, a clumsy attempt at reciprocation.

"I love you, too, Da. Let me know, um, when you find anything out?"

"Of course." Harry took a step back, gave James one last smile, and then turned to Disapparate. He'd forgotten entirely what he actually had come to discuss with James, but whatever it was, it could no doubt wait. And Harry would use the door next time, that was for sure.

It takes James a solid few minutes of sitting on the arm of his couch, staring at the door and just processing what's happened, before he finally manages to take his phone out of his pocket. Well, he's not hungry anymore, so it's probably a good thing that his pasta was ruined.

Hey. Are you alright? Everything's okay.

no subject

ohgod James *gross sobbing*

DRAMATIC TEENAGER IM SO SORRY...

no it's so perfect <3 <3

<3 good BUT STILL totally dramatic

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

ohgod James gross sobbing