God its been a long time. But, for now, im back. Hey guys….i've got no idea if anyone is still reading this but I rather hope you are…it's fucked up fun to write.

Its true that there are pretty massive flaws. Where ARE Remus and Serious? I think they are dead. Yeah their dead. Unless I bring them back later in which case they are not. Helpful?

Also I know this one is very….physiological? I don't know how to describe it. But if you want to tell me what you think, id love it.

Months passed more or less in the same way. Harry's 'training' continued, with slow but constant progress towards James idea of 'perfection'. In truth, harry didn't have much of a life, his Hogwarts days seemed like little more than a dream sometimes. But he was safe, and he was happy. At this precise moment he was doing a bit of deep cleaning. There wasn't much else for him to do, and the idea of going outside didn't even occur to him. Besides, he had never really been in their basement before, and he was finding it surprisingly interesting. There were old books, and half lost puzzles, used paintbrushes and even what could have been a pizza oven at one point, but he couldn't be sure.

He lazily shifted though the mess, vaguely sorting it in to piles of what he wanted to keep and what he would throw away. There wasn't much he wanted to keep. Eventually, he had cleared a solid amount and was able to move though the room without tripping over anything. There was a door that he had been interested in, the basement was a copy of the house about it, so harry knew that there couldn't be a room facing in that direction.

It turned out to be a closest, filled with garment bags, covered in dust and hanging almost as if they had been waiting for someone to find it. Tentatively, Harry reached out to one and slowly pulled down the zip.

It was a wedding gown.

There was no question as to who once wore it. It was simple, and yet elegant. It was a sheath of silk, very straight, only slightly widening at the bottom so that she would have had a small train behind her. The neckline and sleeves were made out the most delicate lace Harry had ever seen. There was a small, glittering broach at the waist, but apart from that, the gown was gracefully understated. In other words it oozed a class and femininity that Harry knew with a sudden jolt would never, ever be his.

He began to shake, knowledge hitting him as if he had never completely comprehended it before. James had been married. He was a widower. He had loved someone enough to commit to them for life, to have a child with that bitch. Somehow, harry had been able to avoid that information up till now. But evidence to the contrary was now staring him in the face. He slammed the door as hard as he could but it bounced back open, as if in defiance of him. So he ripped the dress from its hanger and stalked up stairs with it. For one wild moment he wondered if he could wear it, but no, never. The sleeves were tiny, his mother must have had rake thin arms and a waspish waist to match.

He threw himself on the couch and the dress on the ground before him. He was pissed. He was still shaking and now his breathing was harsh. He hated that dress more than he could possibly express. It was a threat him, an unalterable fact that he was not and never would be the first in his father's life. "fuck" he breathe. He stalked in to the kitchen and hysterically grabbed a pair of siccors. Walking back to the dress he looked tragically clichéd.

To his delight, he found that he did not actually have to snip at the silk. He made one small cut and then simply pushed the blades forward, the fabric parting smoothly. He cut all the way up the middle of the dress. He took the sleeves off. He balled them up and used them as rags to clean the dishes. He slashed the body of the gown to ribbons, but in the end, when he felt he had mutilated it enough for one day, he simply left it there. He realized he wanted his father to know.

When James did come back Harry, as always met him with a hug at the door, this time kissing him hungrily. "Dinner will be ready in about 10 minutes dad. There's a whisky in the living room in the meantime." "Thanks kiddo" he said, giving Harry's bum a quick pat before heading for his drink.

Of course, he couldn't miss the mess. There were wisps of white fabric everywhere and though mostly destroyed, the dress still caught the light beautifully. He recognized it instantly.

The first thought he had was to wonder if Harry was okay. Immediately after, he let out a sigh of relief. Seeing Lilly's wedding dress in tatters and first thinking of Harry- if he ever needed proof that Harry was truly first in his heart and mind then that was it. And now that he could admit it to himself, he had been wondering about that. Calmly, he picked up his glass and sipped it, not taking his eyes off the dress. For a long moment he thought. Lilly was long gone. He, of course still had feelings for her. They did get married and have a kid after all. But, what was the point in letting Harry know that? It would do nothing but torment him, and James truly couldn't bear the thought of hurting his darling.

"Hey Harry." He called out. "Can you come here a sec?" "Sure dad…" Came the slightly tentative answer. Harry walked in, hoping he wasn't in trouble, all passion now gone and replaced by a the guilt of a child whose stolen sweets. James smiled to put him out of his misery. He reached out and stroked Harry's cheek, smiling at the fine stubble under his figures.

"Dad…" Harry said softly. "I don't want to talk about it. At least, not now."

"What ever you want baby." James said, kissing him softly. He lead Harry over to the coffee table that carried Lilly's dress and turned him towards it, positioning himself behind Harry. He kissed down his neck as he slyly undid the button on Harry's jeans. Harry's soft moan covered the sound of the zip, but other than that the world was deathly quiet. Harry was already stiff when James reverently pulled his member out of the soft confines of his boxers. He stroked him; a feather light touch at first, there was no need to rush after all, this time it was purely about Harry's pleasure.

Harry moaned and snaked his hips, trying to get his father involved. But no, ever so gently James moved his waist back, he didn't want to be distracting from pleasing Harry. But the kissing continued, he sucked and bit at Harry's neck, basking in the marks he left behind. Harry was writhing now, and James's strokes on his cock got faster and more rugged, Harry began to pant, he shut his eyes and let his other senses take control, the familiar tightening in his groin filing him, letting him know he was oh so close.

He whimpered and bit his lip as the feeling consumed him and he came with a yell. He opened his eyes just in time to see his own cum splashing on to his mother's wedding gown. Both men watched as Harry's seed soaked in to Her fabric. Harry smiled.

James slowly turned Harry around kissed him. " I cared about your mother a great deal, but we should never have been married. By the time she….died" -And there was a flicker of genuine sorrow in both of them when he said that-" we were having some serious issues. She was too demanding for me, too wild and assertive." James took a deep breath, daring to take Harry's training one step further. " I know you would never be like that Harry, and that's why I love you. You make me so happy…you're so sweet, so quick to please me " At this perverse complement, Harry beamed. "You're mine, and no one else's."

"Thanks dad" Harry whispered.

"Now go get dinner" James ordered- playfully. He sat down on the couch and smirked, feeling it was almost too easy. He didn't care that he had lied about his relationship with Lilly- they had in fact been very happy until the very end- it was a tool to be used, to make his beautiful son truly perfect.

Harry's cooking was perhaps not as good as usual, but he had been distracted by Her all day. They both understood.

The conversation that night was oddly somber, but when they got in to bed, Harry quickly remembered that while he had been pleased that night, his father had not. He stroked the man's strong thighs and purred in to his ear. James smiled and wrapped his arms around his boy, kissing him hungrily. "God your beautiful" He moaned. Harry smiled at that and ran his hands though the sheets, reaching for the other man's cock- he was not in a patent mood. It grew hard in his hand and Harry gave James's balls the slightest squeeze.

James groaned and drew Harry under him, Harry's face in Jam's sweaty chest. He let his hands run over his father's buttocks, loving the strong muscles even there. James rutted into Harry's palm and raised himself only slightly so he could reach his hand in-between Harry's legs and, with a quick lubrication charm, shoved a figure up him. He trust in and out, in and out and didn't waste any time adding a second then third. "Feel good?" He panted. "Yeah- I'm ready." Harry moaned back. James kicked Harry's legs wider apart and pressed his cock inside his son. Harry moaned as he felt the length stretch him that one last bit, and grunted as James thrust hard.

James set a frenzied pace, he let his weight fall off of his arms and on to Harry. Harry grunted again, his father's body effectively pressing the air out of his lungs, with each thrust back, he was allowed to inhale and each thrust forward he was made to exhale.

But James didn't notice, he only knew the pleasure of the tight walls around his hard cock and Harry's smaller but dripping cock pressing against both their stomachs. He et out a moaned "fuck" as he moved even faster, for once his own orgasm coming on as fast as Harry's.

He pinched Harry's little nipple in an attempt to get his son off first and save himself some pride. He yanked on it and lowered his mouth to the other one, and Harry came with a muffled; "yes!" James came moments after, grunting and plowing in to Harry with enough force to ram Harry into the head board.

After a moment, James pulled out of Harry and they just lay staring in to each other's eyes.

"I love you." Harry said finally.

"I love you too." James smiled, taking Harry's hand. "Sleep well, my precious." He turned away from Harry, and Harry as he normally did, spooned his father's back. It didn't take long for the older man to drop in to his dreams, but Harry lay awake.

He turned away from his father, to face the moon hanging outside the window. He still wasn't breathing properly. He bit his lip and closed his eyes and let himself recognize one hard truth; he would never be the best lover in his father's life. No matter how much sex they had, She would always be there, a ghost, a glamorous, beautiful and sophisticated ghost. A woman who, even dead was more than Harry could be. Strong, smart, sexy. He really was just a common whore next to her.

With a pang that seemed to reverberate through his body, Harry realized that right now, what he wanted more than anything was to climb in to his father's bed, like he used to when he was five and had a nightmare. When James used to just stroke his hair and the only kiss was a chaste peck on the forehead. He had made Harry feel so safe, so wonderfully safe.

But, of course, he was already there. Dejected, but there. Tentatively, he rolled over and watched his father's back slowly rise and fall, breathing even. After a moment, he got up and crept out the door, silently making his way back into the basement.

He went back to the closet. He was hyper aware of everything now, it was no longer an innocent door, that might hold some novel but basically uninteresting items. It was a gateway to what remained of her. It was a white door, with peeling paint and the smell of mold, it gave no trace to what glamour ay inside of it. He slowly turned the brass handle and cracked the door open.

He was not surprised when the other dresses, so well preserved, were just as beautiful as the wedding gown. There was a beautiful, cranberry velvet one. It was floor length, and had tiney gold buttons at the back, it was, again, so beautifully understated that Harry wanted to cry. This was not the most beautiful dress in the world, but in it, Lilly would have doubtlessly looked the most beautiful woman in the world.

And they were all that good. The little black dresses, the conservative yet flirty summer ensembles, the stunning ball gowns…

With each one that he opened, he became more and more aware of his place in the family. He would never be her. Never be even like her. He closed his eyes and saw how he must look with his father. Spreading himself for him, sucking him hungrily, waiting on him hand and foot, whimpering on all fours while he got fucked, bending over whenever James wanted.

He replaced the last one back on the hanger. He closed his eyes and shut the door with a soft click, leaning his forehead on it with a small sigh. He turned his cheek to the cool wood of the door and stood there for a moment.

Somewhere, a part of him wanted to be just like his mum. For a moment he envisioned what it would be like if she were alive. Something he hadn't done in years, since before Hogwarts even. But now he saw them shopping together, taking about him having a normal boyfriend, a normal life, her teaching him things, talking, laughing together over a terribly sophisticated drink in a glamorous bar- in the south of France maybe. America even, New York or L.A… he felt sure she had been to all those places.

But as Harry pulled away from the door he pulled away from her too. He could not allow Her to come between them. Not now, not after…everything. Not now his dad was all he had. So he threw away all thoughts of his own glamour, or even beauty. He had, unknowingly cast himself in a role, and there was no room for him to change now. He was a whore and a maid. He had no doubt his father really did love him, but for the first time Harry wondered if it was because of who he was, or the excellent service that he provided James with.

He loved his father. He would not give him up.