The loud 'thwuft' sound from the front door announced that Harry had just arrived back at home. The floor creaked slightly as he stepped past the threshold, but as he had become accustomed to it, he merely ventured on up the stairs, taking his rest in the drawing room. He sunk into a large armchair, fished around in his pocket for a moment, then pulled out a letter he had received earlier that day.

The house was of course getting along in years, and so at the sound of a distant creaking down the hall, Harry wasn't sure as to whether someone was home or not.



ooc: open to Potters...or Weasleys! Or anyone who knows Harry for that matter.....:)

Technically speaking, James wasn't supposed to be home.

It was a Hogsmeade weekend, so he was allowed to leave campus, but he was fairly sure that Floo powdering your way all the way home to pick up some art supplies didn't qualify as legal.

So when he heard his father return home, James felt blind panic set in. He was already on thin ice as it was, did he really need to be caught coming home when he wasn't supposed to?

Hells no.

James crept into the hallway, trying to keep as quiet as possible as her clutched a new sketchbook, charcoal set, and watercolor pallet tightly to his chest. But damn it, the stair creaked as he made his way down them.

Just his luck, of course.

ooc: Yeeeuhoh, bad Jamesy!

bic:

After one has lived in a house for any extended amount of time, one learns to tell one creak from another. A stair creak versus a hall or door creak was rather distinct in nature. The stairs, in this case, were giving off a definite creaking noise, signifying that someone was indeed home.

"Gin? Lil, is that you?" Harry called out, leaning to one side in his chair as he aimed his voice towards the hall outside. The letter in his hand, he had just noticed, was from Garrin Hamren. It was no doubt something to do with Luna, but if it were an emergency, Garrin knew to use the Floo network, so Harry tucked the letter back inside his pocket for the time being.

He heaved out a gush of air that was a cross between a low whisle and a sigh, then got to his feet, and started for the hall.

"Aw, shit." James mouthed to himself, hearing his father call from his office. He cringed, nearly fumbling with his art supplies. Luckily, with his amazing Chaser reflexes, he caught the watercolor set before it even hit the floor.

He breathed a sigh of relief and began to descend before his father could catch him. But then he heard the footsteps approaching the hall. The panic began again and James' face went deathly pale. He was at the bottom of the staircase, but the fireplace was still too far away. It was at least ten paces and he didn't have that time. He was screwed.

I've got to learn to do things by the rules....haha, as if that will ever happen.

The lack of an answer had, to say the least, piqued Harry's curiosity. He started down the creaking stairs, slowly at first, then picked up speed---chances are there was an intruder in the house, because both Ginny and Lily would have answered his call.

Then he saw the source of the noise, and although James certainly wasn't an intruder, he definitely was not supposed to be in the house.

"James? What are you doing here?" Almost at once Harry's mind went to Albus, and that James had come home to alert his parents of an emergency, but then he saw the various art supplies collected in his son's arms. Busted.

Damn it.

He was, as Harry had so eloquently put it, busted.

He could feel his nervous laugh forming at the back of his throat. "Haha. Hi dad. Long time no see." He put on a guilty smile, taking a single step backwards. Maybe if Harry made his way down the stairs, James could make it to the fireplace and at least avoid a good yelling fit.

While heaving a heavy sigh, Harry finished the last few steps to the bottom of the stair case, then crossed his arms. He looked at his son over the rim of his glasses, lowering his head slightly to give that definite look of disappointment.

"Alright. Before I say anything else, lets hear it," he said, uncrossing his arms and scratching behind his neck. His expression fell into one of mild understanding, as he could only assume that James had merely popped home to snatch a few art supplies, and nothing more. Harry, in all honesty, didn't see anything wrong with that. James hadn't exactly murdered anyone, but as it was, Harry wasn't about to let James think he could bend the rules.

He had no chance to escape to the fireplace. His father was much too tall and much too fast coming down the stairs. James' shoulders sagged a bit, annoyed with himself for getting caught. "It's basically what you see. I didn't want to wait for mom to send them through the post, so I came home to get it. Not much more than that."

Of course, James didn't say what he planned to DO with the art supplies, but you know, he could always fib a little.

"I see," Harry said, darting his eyes off to the side before raising his brow and turning his gaze back to James.

"James..." he went on, his tone sounding exasperated and heavy as he shook his head.

"Is this the first time you've come home on an unauthorized visit?" As it was, Harry didn't trust his son to tell the truth if it wasn't the first time, but still, he wanted to give him the chance to be honest.

James briefly considered lieing but James tried not to lie most of the time. When he did something wrong, he usually admitted to it. Well, when he got caught anyway. There were some things he might never tell the truth about. Such as stealing firewhiskey. Those things he would try never to tell Harry about those moments.

"No. I've come home about three times in the last four months." James admitted, loosening his grip on the art supplies. His anxiousness evidently made him clutch the supplies closer.

"Okay," Harry said, nodding a little. "Okay, thanks for being honest," he said, feeling a small burst of pride, as well as sheepishness for assuming James would have lied. It did seem to be that although James was only too good at ignoring the rules, he rarely told bold-face lies when confronted about his behavior. Eh, leave it up to a parent to assume the worst.

"Is there any particular reason why you couldn't wait for your mum or me to send the supplies? Aside from being impatient...." Not taking his eyes off of the boy, his brow rose a little with a look of suspicion.

"Well, um...there are multiple reasons, actually." James laughed nervously again, adjusting the weight of the bundle in his arms so that he could ruffle the hair on the bakc of his neck.

"I mean, there's the obvious. Just regular art projects." James nodded, shrugging a little. "Then there was...the girl." James admitted. Of course, he was planning some small pranks on Albus and a few other people as well, but Juliet was the main object of his need of art supplies.

"It's rather corny but I was going to make her a gift..." James cringed at how ridiculous it sounded. He was so pathetic. Absolutely lame.

ooc: Man, I wish we could finish the topic in Hogsmeade. It would have been so much fun.

"Er...right," Harry said, smirking ever so faintly, his green eyes twinkling still with a mild suspicion.

"At any rate, in case you didn't know, and I'm under the impression that you do know, you're not supposed to be home unless it's a holiday or an emergency. You can't just disappear off campus without telling anyone where you're going, James."

"Yeah...but I only come back for a few minutes. In fact, last time I came, picked up my broom polishing kit, a cookie, and went straight back to school." James admitted. It's not like anyone missed me... James thought a little bitterly, the thought briefly showing on his normally jovial features.

"That's beside the point. It doesn't matter why you dropped in. Unless it's an emergency, don't do it again," Harry said, and although there was no hesitation in his voice, there was at least some hesitation in his expression.

"You probably know that personally, I have no problem with you dropping in. But the rules are there for a reason, and as annoying as it may be, you've got to follow them." Harry's eyes went to his son's beloved art supplies. He hated to do it, but it would be a good punishment.

Oh no.

That was worse than escorting Lily to Libby Lu when she was six.

Besides Quidditch, art was James' only outlet. His passion. Would he take it away? James' eyes went wide with a dull panic, clutching the art supplies a little tighter. He could feel a whimper rising in his throat, but he held it back. No man whimpered unless they were an animagus of a dog.

"From the look on your face, I can pretty much guess you know what's about to happen," Harry said, making a bit of a face himself. He sighed, and then looked thoughtful for a moment, as though giving himself some time to reconsider the decision he had already made.

"Sorry, James...the supplies stay here. But only for two weeks. I'll send them your way by then."

James' face fell, his bright golden eyes losing their light. He wondered if his father realized that his rebellion would only now increase ten-fold. Never the less, he relinquished the supplies, a sullen look on his normally happy face. It was a shame, seeing a frown on such a jovial expression.

Ginny, arms full of paperwork from the Daily Prophet, entered the house expecting to find it empty except for possibly Harry. She was reading some of the papers as she walked in, and turned to shut the door. Ginny hadn't noticed anything yet, nor heard anyone talking and she said loudly over her shoulder, "I'm home, dear. Are you?"

Ginny turned around and walked into the living room, still reading her papers. She glanced up and stopped dead in her tracks. Looking from James, holding his art supplies, to Harry, apparently having been talking to him. Her papers slipped from her arms, falling to the floor. Her first thoughts were of Albus and that something had happened, but then she registered that James was holding art supplies.

"JAMES?!"

Oh bloody hell.

He was so dead. He could feel the grandma Weasley look coming on. The look James dreaded most of all. The one he was sure would strike him dead.

Damn. I'm the biggest idiot ever... James thought, wanting to slap himself repeatedly. Which, he did, with the heel of his hand to his forehead.

Harry took in a sharp bit of breath, gave a faint ironic smile, and despite the definite tension in the air, gave a nod and more of a smile to his wife as she entered the scene.

"Er, hi," he said, before raising his brow slightly and looking to James. "Seems someone has a bit of explaining to do to his mother," he said, crossing his arms again. Of course, Harry could fill Ginny in himself, but he knew it would be good for James to do it---it would be character building.

Apparently it was torture James until he popped a gasket day.

"WHAT?" James exclaimed, an even more panicked look forming on his face. He'd already relinquished his passion. Did he really deserve more humiliation, disappointment, and punishment? Was he really that bad of a kid??

"B-but--Dad? Mum...I---Oh, crap!"

Ginny noted the smile Harry presented to her, but she was much too angry with James to return it.

"You'd better feel horrible James Sirius Potter. You'd better have a good explanation for coming home in the middle of the school week. And let me guess, you didn't even let Bill know did you? Just came wandering off from the Gryffindor Common Room and found youself here.." Ginny's face was livid when she paused to glare at her son.

"You've been in WAY too much trouble James Potter. What are you thinking lately? James.." Ginny was clearly disappointed with James' behaviour lately and it showed on her face

Suddenly James could feel the heat rising in his face. For a girl, he expected, it would be similar to the humiliated feeling of being about to cry. But instead, for James, it was anger, exploding from deep within his core. His face was hot and HIS eyes were angry.

"I'VE been in too much trouble? ME? Me? That's a laugh mom. Because you know, attempting to deface school property in the middle of the night and coming home to pick up some goddamn art supplies is the epitome of a bad child. I'm such a disappointment to you and dad aren't I? It's not like uncle George and Fred didn't do worse. It's not like dad, Uncle Ron, and Aunt Hermione didn't sneak out at night. It's not like the Gryffindor three didn't brew potions with stolen ingredients from Snape's office. It's not like you didn't make out with guys in the middle of hallways. It's not like Uncle George, Fred, and Ron drove a flying fricking car to kidnap dad from Private Dr. Because hey, that stuff doesn't make you a trouble maker. It doesn't make you obnoxious or inappropriate. No, it was ok, because, hell, you were all going to help save the world one day, anyway. You were all destined to be put in history books with full life stories. You can look back at all that crap you did and say, hey, nobody cares that I broke the rules and did bad stuff, because I saved the stupid flipping world!"

James' nostrils flared with his anger. Who were they to tell him how BAD he was being? He was a teenager, he did stupid stuff. This was self-evident. Yet, why was he being treated like Barty Crouch Jr. to Barty Crouch? Because the golden child of the Potters isn't allowed to be a bad kid. Because being a goof ball is the worst kind of kid. Because mild rebellion is subject for major punishment and grilling. If he saved the world one day, would he receive the same nonchalance for his past indiscretions?

Almost at once, Harry could recognize the growing anger and soon to be eruption from his son, only because it was, of course, all too familiar a look to him. Aside from that, Harry really did not appreciate the way he was speaking to them, but given the fact that the boy was angry, he decided to let it slide.

"James, don't think for one minute that we were never punished for the things that we did," Harry said firmly. Anyone could see that he was struggling to keep his voice at a calm level.

"Sure...we might have gotten away with some of it, but that's only because we weren't caught in those instances." He thought about adding something else, but instead looked to Ginny.

James snorted at the implication. "Sure dad. So I'm just a bad trouble maker. And you know, it's not like all you got was a quick detention. Not like you had to worry about your parents grilling you about bad things you did. The Dursleys didn't give a crap. You teachers didn't scold you half as bad either, because, oh, look, it's the Boy Who Fricking Lived." James went on.

"Why don't you yell at me dad? Huh? Because you feel SORRY for me? Because you know I can never live up to that shadow you cast? Because you know that no matter how hard I try, no matter how much I goof off and do stupid things, I will never escape the dark!" James was screaming. He wasn't sure when it happened, but he was definitely screaming.

"I am so tired of you going at me as though I crashed the old flying car into the Whomping Willow. It's not like when you and Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron got caught in Hagrids one night that you got treated like a felon!" James was exaggerating a little, but not a whole lot. He was frustrated. He was tired. And honestly, he was fed up.

Sighing, Ginny also tried to follow Harry's example. Maybe yelling wasn't the best at the moment. Ginny really didn't want to get into a screaming match with her son, but Harry and she had dealt with everything so far in stride. Trying to explain things calmly no matter how much James yelled. But Ginny was starting to feel the strain of staying calm when James continued to yell at them.

With enormous effort she regained her control, though her voice still wavered a little, "James-" She stopped, hearing her voice still shrill. "James," she tried again, "you know very well that we were punished for things we were caught doing or suspected of doing. You really can't blame us for trying to put things right. Especially when you are vandalizing the school, of which, if you've forgotten, your uncle runs and tries to keep in shape. If you don't believe that we were punished look at your father's hand."

"Don't you dare try to turn this on us, James. Yes, your father, and uncles, aunts and I have done wrong, but you know sometimes rules have to be broken, but only when it's to help something. To be standing up to what you believe. I'm not so sure how drawing on school property and picking fights is standing up for anything. You shouldn't ever feel inferior to us, dear. Never." By the end of Ginny's 'speech' she had calmed down quite a bit, remembering one of the conversations that the three of them had had on Hogwart's Grounds and how James had felt inferior and unnoticed and expected of. "The only thing you are expected of doing, James, is being you. But restricting yourself not to doing..just stay out of trouble a little. I would have sent your art supplies just as soon as you had asked. Or your father would have, which ever got the owl."

Ginny looked from Harry and then back to James. "Please don't yell, James. I know you are upset, but you have no right to speak to Harry and I like that. We can only do our best. And you are setting an example for Al and Lils."

It was easy to be mad at Harry, yet somehow so much harder to be mad at Ginny.

James wanted to cry like a little kid again. But he didn't. He stood there and fumed like a little black kettle. He glared at his parents, his voice retuning to normal as he spoke again. He kept it controlled as he spoke, trying to calm. "It's very hard not to feel inferior around you all. Very. Very. Hard. Al is happy to blend into the crowd. And Lil, she's too young to worry about these things."

James averted his gaze to the floor. He couldn't look at his parents anymore. It seemed like wherever he looked he saw his elder family's faces and it was painful. James was ambitious, he couldn't deny it. He wanted to be more than he was and he couldn't. It seemed if he couldn't get the attention he sought through noble means he'd have to do it infamously.

That was a horrible thought. He banished it away before it could become rooted in his head.

Standing there, looking at James, Ginny felt remorse for yelling at him. But she knew she had been in the right and he the wrong. They couldn't allow James to continue with the way he had been acting. Getting into trouble was not going to help him in the long run. If anything, it would make it worse.

Ginny took a step towards James and enveloped him in a hug, "James, you don't know how much we understand you. But there are so many times that I look at you and I don't know. I know you think you have a lot to live up to, but please don't think that way." Ginny pulled back to look down at him, "You have to live up to be who you want to be. We wouldn't want you any other way. Though, a little less trouble would make us happy." Ginny said giving a small smile down at him. She didn't have to look far, he was near to surpassing her in height.

"We just want you to be happy."

"Happy yes, but that doesn't mean you're going to get away with everything," Harry added, though his tone wasn't at all tense or irritable--on the contrary, he smiled gently, the sighed.

"Just live your life, son. Stop worrying about how you look compared to your mum and me. If you want to make a name for yourself, then stop talking about it and do it. Might be easy enough to say that, I know...." He sighed again, shoved his hands into his pockets, and looked like he was deep in thought for a moment.

"No more unauthorized trips home, okay?"