Wiping down the doors

By: Amilia Padfoot

Disclaimer: I own nutting, nutting I tell you! Just the idea for the story.

Summary: Next gen. Harry and James bond as Harry tries to explain to his son why the Dursley's didn't love him.

A/N: Yay! Another next-gen one-shot. Whoopee! I came up with this while, well...wiping some doors down, believe it or not. Anyway, enjoy!

Special thanks to Dramioneperfected for beatering this... in record time too!

"James Sirius Potter! What have I told you about running in the house?"

James came to a sudden holt just shy of the living room door at the sound of his mother's shrill voice blasting from the kitchen.

"Sorry mum!" he yelled over his shoulder, smiling to himself as he could practically feel his mum roll her eyes. He mentally counted to ten and then set off again, bolting from the living room and running zigzag from room to room, climbing over furniture, jumping from table to stool safely making it to the next room, only to have his hopes dampened again and again. Perhaps the next room...

He turned about face from the fruitless dining room, hurdling over a bump he'd made in the carpet and flew round the corner, using the door frame as a pivot, and straight into something solid.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! James! Not so fast, you nearly ran me over!"

James giggled and looked up, happy to have found what he was looking for.

"Dad!" he cried, completely unfazed by the unexpected collision. Harry chucked softly and ruffled his son's hair.

"Hello James"

"What ya doing?" James inquired innocently, rocking backwards and forwards on his heels. He stood on his tip-toes, peered round his dad and noticed a bucket of hot, soapy water propped up outside the door to the library. He looked back at his dad, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"I'm wiping the doors down" Harry informed him, with a slight air of bemusement at his son's hyperness.

"Why?" James scrunched up his nose. He couldn't understand why someone would be cleaning, of all things; after all, they could be having fun instead, or more importantly, having fun with him.

Harry just waved his scarred hand vaguely at the door that was adorned with bright red, yellow, blue and even green hand prints before raising his eyebrows at his son slightly.

"Oops?" James offered.

Harry rolled his emerald eyes at his son's innocent facade before kneeling down on a red and gold striped towel that had been placed under the kaleidoscopic door and picked up a rag that he chuckled at his son playfully.

"Here you go you, misfit. You're going to help me clean this up."

James looked down at the sickly peach rag in his hands that he instantly recognised as part of those hideous curtains great (or was it great-great-great? He'd lost track) -Aunt Muriel had brought his mum for Christmas, and pouted.

"Can't you just use magic?" he asked moodily, earning himself a stern look from his dad that made him squirm unconsciously.

"There's nothing wrong with doing things the more 'Muggle' way, James, and a bit of hard work never hurt anyone-" Harry carried on hurriedly, anticipating his son's petulant 'yeah, but why risk it?' remark "-and it is your mess. Besides I don't want you becoming too reliant on magic, you may be without it one day."

James's mouth opened and closed several times, completely perplexed at the idea of there being no magic. His lips came together long enough to whisper - "No...magic?"

Harry smiled at him reassuringly. "I don't mean it will disappear, James." James sighed in relief and Harry mussed his son's hair lovingly. "There will always be magic; it will never be gone from the world. I just mean you may be caught without your wand one day..." Harry trailed off forcing himself to not think about his own father confronting Voldemort without a wand, having left it behind. "...or you may be around Muggles and so can't raise suspicions or-" but Harry was cut off as James walked over to the bucket of water and gave his rag a healthy dunking, soaking his little hands in the process.

"I understand, dad." Harry smiled at his son, though it was somewhat forced as he realised that the pained look in his eyes, that must have appeared at the memory, had contributed to his son's quick agreement.

Harry showed James the most effective way of getting the paint to come off and a comfortable silence lapsed over the two as they worked side-by-side, pausing every now and then to dunk the rag once more, spraying each other 'accidentally' with water, making James giggle as his dad's fingers flicked mercilessly.

"Have you been stuck without your wand, dad?" James piped up curiously, wiping soap bubbles of his cheek from the most recent attack.

"Lots of times" Harry replied shortly, a slight guarded tone to his voice that made it clear to James that he would not be forthcoming with details.

"Mum says you can do wandless magic!" Harry didn't miss the hint of pride in his son's voice and he shrugged modestly, hiding his smile.

"More like accidental magic, really. It's hard to control. I guess I'm better at it now." He paused in the scrubbing of a particularly stubborn spot to shoot his son, who was looking impressed, a quick glance.

"I heard Uncle Ron say you could do accidental magic even after you got a wand."

"Yeah, I suppose" Harry resumed his scrubbing; feeling slightly uncomfortable at the way the topic was going.

"Will I be able to?" James asked eagerly. He rather enjoyed his accidental magic when it did occur...well except for that one time...but he didn't want to think about it.

"I'm not sure"

"Why not?" Injustice was written across his young face as he plunged the rag back into the water with more force than necessary, making the water slop over the sides.

"Well, accidental magic usually occurs when we're really stressed or scared or angry and, well, I'd like to think you've been brought up in a safer and happier environment than I was for you to find the need to use accidental magic. You see, you might not be able to as your magic won't see the need to kick in and protect you." Harry explained slowly.

James stared at his dad for a second, as if he was seeing him for the first time, before turning back to the door and nodding. Whether he understood, or had decided that further questioning would give him a headache, Harry couldn't tell.

It was a while later that James remarked as casual as anything: "Uncle George said that you blew up your Aunt once". Harry nearly knocked the bucket over in surprise and made a metal note to talk to Ginny, Ron and George about what they said in front of James. He quickly steadied the bucket and went on scrubbing as if nothing had happened. James, however, had paused and was looking at him expectantly.

Harry sighed; 'Couldn't we just talk about Quidditch or something?'

"Well I didn't make her explode, she just blew up like a huge balloon and… kind of floated away, really"

"Cool!" James exclaimed, half-astounded that his dad would do such a thing and half impressed that he could. "Can I do that?" he asked, grinning, but instantly regretted it.

"No, you cannot" Harry told him firmly.

"But you did" James countered stubbornly though unable to meet his father stern gaze.

"Yes, but your Aunt's are kind… and they love you"

"But didn't your Aunt love you?" James face was the epitome of a child-like innocence that Harry had never managed to keep a hold of. Harry swallowed before replying shortly, "No". He then carried on hastily, seeing misery melt into his son's eyes. "But I don't care. She wasn't even my real Aunt. She was just my Uncle's sister and I didn't see her as my Aunt, she didn't mean anything to me" Harry shrugged trying to sound as offhand as possible hoping his observant son (too observant sometimes, in Harry's opinion) would not pick up on any bitterness that may have leaked through.

James cocked his head to one side, his brow furrowed slightly as if trying to process something. "Is that why you blew her up, 'cause she wouldn't love you?"

"No James, you don't go blowing people up because they don't love you. She was saying some bad stuff about my parents." Harry was slightly startled by the dark look that crossed his usual happy-go-lucky son's face.

"Like what?" There was a challenge mingled within James's curiosity. How dare someone speak badly of his grandparents? He wished that he could have met them but the bad man, Tom Riddle, as his dad had told him, had made them go away and live with the angels, making his dad go live with his Aunt, Uncle and Cousin Dudley who they saw sometimes, mostly at Christmas. He didn't know much about Lily and James Potter except he was named after James, of course, and his sister after Lily, that they were brave and died for love, to protect his dad and James loved them for that. Because of them, he had his dad and in his eyes they could do no wrong. Why would somebody say bad stuff about the people who protected his dad? He couldn't understand. Had this Aunt woman ever even met his grandparents?

"Well, she called my mum a bi- bad word-" James knew 'bad word' was code for swear words that his Uncle Ron slipped out sometimes earning a smack from his mum or Aunt Hermione. Usually, he would laugh at the thought of his uncle's misfortune but he didn't like this lady using a bad word for his grandma. " - and my dad a drunk, compared us to dogs, saying 'bad blood will out' and suggested that I should have been drowned..." Harry trailed off upon seeing his son's horrified look and wondered if he had said too much.

"That's- that's...she's horrible!" James spat with as much venom as he could muster "I don't blame you for blowing her up dad. I mean, if someone had said stuff like that about mum or you..." Harry put a calming hand on his son shoulder. Though slightly worried that the flames that crackled in James's eyes would ignite the door under his furious gaze, he couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth as he observed his son's indigence on his behalf.

James suddenly turned to look his dad straight in the eyes; a look of hope smothered the flames like a blanket. "What about your real Aunt and Uncle, they loved you didn't they?" Harry dearly wanted to say 'yes' clearly and firmly and put his son's mind at rest but he knew he couldn't, he'd promised long ago that he would never lie to his children, not like he had been lied to for some many years. He'd avoid their questions, yes. Tell them 'when you're older', yes. But - he'd never right out lie to them.

He though back to his time at the Dursley's, something he rarely allowed himself to do, and pondered the seldom moments in which his Aunt had shown him an act of kindness. Was that love? He pulled himself out of revive to answer his son but immediately saw, by the look of sorrow that looked so out of place on James's youthful face, that he had hesitated for far too long.

"Why?" It was a simple question, spoken softly, easily misheard, easily over-looked amongst the thousands of other words that composed the English language and yet coming from his son now he had never been asked something that had made his heart melt so much. He tossed the paint stained rag aside and wrapped his arms around his son, pulling him in close, unable to stand seeing his child so depressed. "I don't understand, dad," James mumbled into his father's chest, his voice muffled. "You're not that hard to love. I find it quite easy"

Harry couldn't help but grin, his cheeks flushed with sudden warmth at the genuine love in his son's voice.

"Thank you, James." James just shook his head into his shoulder, whether to state that no thanks was needed or to clear his head Harry didn't know, but what he did know was that the question was still there in James eyes and it needed to be answered. 'Why?' - a simple question, yes, but the answer was far from uncomplicated. Harry sighed. How did you explain to a kid, to your kid, why someone could not love another?

"Well, I suppose it didn't help that they didn't really have much choice in raising me, I was just left with them without so much as a bye-your-leave. I wasn't their son and they were expected to raise me."

"So?" James cut in angrily, "You raised Teddy didn't you? And he's not even your nephew, not really."

"Yes, but I wanted to raise him, and he is like a son to me"

"Even if you didn't, you would have raised him anyway and treated him the same as me, Al or Lil. And you were only seventeen. Your Aunt and Uncle were adults!" James accused, absolute certainty ringing in his voice as if he was stating the sky was blue or grass was green.

"Just because they were adults doesn't mean they had to love me, James, and I had granny Andy before she passed away." Harry reasoned softly, though it was clear that James was less than satisfied with the answer. Harry let out a gusty breath and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Well anyway, I guess the main reason my Uncle didn't like me was, well, he didn't see me as, er- normal"

"Well, you are a bit weird sometimes, dad" James intoned in a mock thoughtfulness.

"Oi!" Harry cried, and then pouted as his son giggled cheekily. Harry huffed moodily, poking James in his side making his son giggle louder, thought they soon died out as Harry's face became serious once more.

"Sorry, dad, carry on" Harry gave his son a quick smile that looked more like a grimace before continuing.

"He didn't think I was normal because I'm a wizard." James made a face as if to say 'what's unusual about that?' "He saw me as well, a freak of nature, I guess"

James let out an angry hiss, "You're not!"

Harry shuffled them away from the door at the sudden heat coming from the wood.

"I know James" he told him soothingly, casting a silent cooling charm on the door just in case and James relaxed into him once more. "You know, now I think about it -" he continued after a while "-me and my uncle are kind of similar in some regards."

"You're nothing like him!"

"No, no listen" Harry quickly interjected calmly before James could get mad again. "For both of us the most important thing is family. For all his obsession with money and power the thing he cared for most was his wife and son."

"You're his family too!" James objected passionately. Harry just shrugged and James frowned; he didn't like the way his dad was acting so indifferent about the whole thing.

"I don't see it that way-" sensing that James was going to protest again he carried on hurriedly "-anyway, all he wanted was a normal life for his kid, that's all I want for you, and Al and Lily."

"We do have a normal life- well sort of-" Harry shared a wiry smile with his son. Life amongst the Potters and Weasley's could never be considered entirely normal "-we're happy, dad, really." James added wanting to reassure his dad. Harry ruffled his hair by way of appreciation.

"But still, my point is that was all they wanted and he saw me as a threat to that, they saw me as something dangerous. That's why he wasn't nice to me. He tried to isolate me- keep me away from his family as much as he could and put me down so I wouldn't think about using my magic on them"

"They were scared of you?" He whispered, clearly perplexed and nauseated by the way his dad had been treated. Harry just nodded. "I don't get it! Why not be nice to you? You don't hurt people you like!" James exclaimed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Harry couldn't help but agree with the logic in theory, but he knew full well that you could just as easily hurt the ones you love.

"I know son. Perhaps they just couldn't bring themselves to do it" he muttered the last few words more to himself than anything, a far off look in his eyes. Harry was yanked out of his thoughts as he saw his son's eyes widen, his face paling rapidly.

"James? You okay?" Harry put his hand under James's chin and gently lifted his head to look into his son's chocolate eyes.

"They- they didn't hurt you did they?" he whispered as though it was scandalous to even think about such a thing. "Like- like-" James felt his breath catch in his chest, refusing to flow out properly "-hit you?" Harry winced. He should have known his son would ask sooner or later. Auror training kicking in he shrugged casually and remarked with an air of calm nonchalance: "A couple of taps here and there"

"I hate them!" James yelled fiercely, jumping out of his father's arms.

"Shhh, James, calm down, it was a long time ago." Harry gently pulled James back into his arms and hushed him.

"I don't care. They hurt you" he hissed stubbornly, eyes flashing dangerously.

"It wasn't that bad" Harry muttered half-heartedly.

"You would never do that to me, Al, Lily, Teddy or any kid!"

"I know James, I wouldn't, ever." He felt disgusted at the very thought, thoroughly repulsed at the very notion of hurting his children, even in punishment. There were far better methods, methods that meant no-one was hurt. "I guess he was just trying to make me more scared of him that them of me. He was trying to protect his family, just like any father would" he stated ponderously, knowing that he would do anything for his children.

"Stop it dad!" Harry tensed, startled to hear his son cry out what he had though would only come from his lips under intense tickling. "You're making excuses for them! Why are you defending them?"

"I'm- I'm..." Harry blinked. Why was he defending them? He knew deep down why, that he thought they must have had some reasons because in truth, thought he was ashamed to admit it even to himself, he just didn't want to think of the alternative. "I'm not saying what they did was right, and you'll never hear me say it. I'm just trying to make you understand. You asked me why they didn't love me and I'm trying my best to explain, even if it means seeing things from their perspective." James just nodded, his shoulders hunched and Harry wrapped his arms around him tighter and ran a calming had through his dishevelled hair.

"I suppose my Aunt had a different reason. Although she agreed with my Uncle, I think it had more to do with my mum"

"Grandma Lily?" James eyes lightened up as it always did at the opportunity to learn more about his dad's parents.

"Yeah. My Aunt was jealous of her as a kid as she could do magic, and was popular and my Aunt believed that their parents paid more attention to my mum."

At last James could relate with his Great-aunt, as he remembered how jealous of Lily he had been when she had been born, as his parents had to spend so much more time with her and little Albus as well. But would he go as far as hating them? If anything happened to Lily - he felt sick at the thought - and she had kids, he would take them in and love them like any of his Uncles would do for him if anything happened to his parents. He felt a soft finger caress his cheek and wipe a tear that he had been unaware was falling away. He looked up at his dad's kind face and he could tell that his dad knew what he had been thinking. His dad was good at that.

"Do you want me to stop talking? It's nearly lunch time. I can finish off here" Harry suggested but James shook his head.

"I want to understand" he declared. He felt his dad's eyes search his as if x-raying him, before Harry nodded and continued as if he'd never stopped.

"She didn't want the same to happen to her son so she made sure Dudley knew he would always come first with her in the only way she knew how, by spoiling him and-"

"-Treating you badly" James finished for him, disgust etched across his face.

"Yes"

"I think it's a stupid way of showing someone you love 'em" Harry tried not to smile at how James looked like Ginny, when she was set in her ways, with his arms crossed over his chest moodily.

"I suppose it is a bit, yeah" A temporary silence stretched over the two as James rested his head on his dad's shoulder looking up into his emerald eyes as if trying to figure something out.

"You've thought about this a lot, haven't you?"

"What makes you say that?" Harry tried to keep his voice as even as possible as not to show how startled he was by his son's all too accurate conclusion.

"Well, it sounded like you had, I mean you didn't just think all that up on the spot."

"I suppose" he conceded grudgingly, avoiding his son's eyes. He knew James was right. How many times had he asked himself the same question James had? Why hadn't they loved him? Though, of course, when he was younger it had been 'why don't they love me?' What he had told his son was all he could gather, no, that wasn't entirely true, it wasn't the only reason he'd thought of.

"It wasn't you, dad." Harry blinked at his son wondering how James could have possibly known what he was thinking.

"What wasn't me?"

"They didn't hate you because of who you are, dad." It was said so sincerely that Harry found his vision blur slightly.

"Well, they did hate me because I'm a wizard" he reminded his son, inwardly cursing at the water in his eyes, blinking rapidly, not wanting to reach up to brush the unshed tears aside and bring even more attention to them.

"That's what you are, not who you are. There's nothing wrong with you, dad"

Battle lost, Harry buried his face in his son's raven hair. James just snuggled closer to him offering silent comfort.

"How did you get to be so wise?" Harry asked after a while, relived that his voice came out in its usual calm tone. James looked up at his dad, his face more serious than Harry had ever seen it.

"Me? Let's just say… I have a good role-model"

Please review! This has got to be my favourite one to write!