Semper Fidelis

Chapter 17.7

"Mr. Watson!" A fierce whisper called into his ear. "Mr. Watson, this is completely unacceptable! You should not be here, boy. You'll disturb your mother!"

James' groggy eyes blinked open. He was laying on his back now and was staring up at the ceiling. There was a dancing light at the corner of his eyes and he turned his head to see Madam Pomfrey towering over him with a reproaching look on her face.

"Mr. Watson," she said again, softer this time. "You need to head back to the common room. It's well past curfew! I need to redress Ms. Granger's wound and you can't stay here in bed with her. She shouldn't be cramped like this."

James looked to his side to see his mum still sleeping. He gently sat up from the bed and turned pleading eyes to the healer. "I'll get off the bed but can't I just stay here, Madam Pomfrey? I don't want to leave her."

The witch's eyes softened but she was firm on her rules. "You have to go back to the Gryffindor common room, Mr. Watson. Worry not about your mother, you can visit her again in the morning. She's in good hands and I bet that she'd much rather have you sleeping comfortably in your own bed than in here. I'll write you a note so you won't get in trouble if you run into Mr. Filch or any one else in the hallways."

Hesitantly, James hopped off the bed. He gave his mum a sweet kiss on the cheek and gingerly took the note from Madam Pomfrey's hand. He grabbed his book bag from the ground and, with one last look at his sleeping mother, turned and walked out of the hospital wing.

The hallways were dark but James had already learned the wand lighting spell. He cast Lumos but kept his wand inside his pocket so only a faint glow was visible through the fabric. He didn't want to disturb the sleeping portraits as he walked through the silent halls. His watch told him it was nearly eleven. He had rushed to the hospital wing soon after dinner ended and spent the rest of the night talking with his mum until they fell asleep. The whole castle was cast in shadows and there was no sign of Mr. Filch, Mrs. Norris, or any of the prefects or heads on patrol.

He relished the darkness and the quiet. The hallways were absolutely silent save for his own footsteps. The treck from the hospital wing to the Gryffindor tower was a pretty long one too so he had plenty of time to think.

As he passed by the closed doors of the Great Hall, James marvelled at how in such a short amount of time (it had only been two months!), so many things happened. In such a short amount of time, his whole life changed. It was such a surreal experience. He met his best friends. He started school at a magical school. His mum got into trouble and then...

And then he learned about his dad.

What an incredible thing that was, since James spent so many years silently wondering who made up the other half of the equation that was his life.

And he never would have guessed that Professor Potter was his father.

James' feelings were all over the place. He was happy, sad, worried, excited, anxious, scared. He didn't know how the dynamic between him and Professor Potter would change. Could he call the man "dad"? Would Professor Potter even allow it? What if... what if Professor Potter didn't want James as his son?

It really hurt to think about and James' pace slowed down. That fear of rejection gripped his heart and filled him with worry to the point where he felt suffocated.

Professor Potter wouldn't do that to him, right? He was always so nice, and so kind...

James had a feeling that Professor Potter knew about their relationship when he came to talk to him after Halowe'en.

But then, why didn't he say anything? Did he keep quiet because it wasn't the right time? Or... did he keep quiet because he didn't want to acknowledge it?

James stopped walking and leaned against the stone wall of the hallway. Fear was clouding his mind and his face scrunched up as he willed the tears not to fall. But he couldn't help himself. The salty drops fell as his heart was seized with the fear and the worry that his father wouldn't want him as his son.

Footsteps echoed down a side passageway and James stood up tall. He wiped his face clear of tears as best as he could and retrieved the note from Madam Pomfrey that was in his pocket. He took a deep breath and readied himself to confront Mr. Filch.

But it wasn't Mr. Filch who rounded the corner. It wasn't a prefect either nor was it the head girl or boy. Through the darkness, James saw the tall figure emerge. His long, sweeping cloak flowed behind him. His dark, black hair was as black as the night which engulfed the castle. In his hand was a broomstick.

Harry Potter stopped his gait and looked at the boy in the hallway. Through the light of the Lumos he saw James standing by the wall with reddened eyes and damp cheeks. His brows furrowed as he noted that James had been crying.

"James," Harry called softly as he started to approach. It was almost as soft as a whisper but James heard it. The hallway was completely silent but his heartbeat thundered loudly in his ears. "Are you okay? Is something the matter? What are you doing here? Why are you crying?"

James' lips quivered at the sight of him. The tears sprung to his eyes once again. All of his emotions - all the fear and worry and happiness and elation - leapt to the surface. He couldn't stand still. He couldn't keep it in. With a strangled cry, Madam Pomfrey's note fell from his hand as he ran towards his father.

"Dad!"