A Prolonged Encounter: Chapter One

Disclaimer: I claim nothing.

Note: this story has been edited. I've made some slight changes but the theme is still the same.

Upon his arrival, James Sirius Potter found himself tucked into a cocoon of longing and protection. Usually, James would have protested at the childish treatment; however, James inferred that since fate chose for him to relieve his childhood, he would surely make use of that experience. After all, a seed blooms. However rough the journey, the stems stretch and flowers blossom under the protection of the light. Eventually, James will grow and yearn for these fleeting moments of security. Though limited, they were still present.

And James was grateful.

Thus, he found himself cuddled in his mother's embrace. He would admit to anyone who asked that he had missed her. He missed her smile, her lightheartedness, her boldness. She had passed shortly after Molly's death. His siblings inferred that perhaps the stress and the guilt had contributed to her illness. James, however, disagreed. His mother was strong enough to handle the stress. After all, she had lost her husband early in life as well. Even then, she maintained her humor and her strength. As she stated, she knew that marrying Harry Potter, the most sought out man alive, would bring her stress and worry since he led such a dangerous job. But she accepted that aspect of him. After all, trouble accompanied Harry Potter from the moment he was born. If she did not accept that as characteristic of him, then according to Ginny, she did not deserve him. Thus, her will to live did not waver when Molly passed. Her resolve only strengthened. That is, until that fated day arrived.

But James did not dismay. Though fate had separated him from his mother, fate had also brought them together again. He admitted that he was a mother's boy through and through. Even the teasing of his siblings did not faze him. He knew that he was. He convinced himself that he did not care if the room they were in was filled to the brink and that other females in the room were watching them with adoration in their eyes. He had just missed his mother, missed her fierce embrace, her light teasing, her humor, her fiery red hair, and her blazing brown eyes. One year away from her was like decades, and he had been without her for twenty six years.

Twenty six years.

But she was here again. Despite his reluctance to separate from her, his impatience intensified.

Where was he?

As soon as he arrived, James persisted for the whereabouts of the famous Harry Potter. Yet there was little reply from anyone. No one seemed to know where Harry was. As they stated, Harry seemed to have a new destination everyday. Thus, no one could predict his whereabouts, not even his own wife.

To James, Harry simply disliked the indoors.

Frustrated, James buried his face into his mother's shoulder and growled. He wanted to meet his father. He had heard countless stories from his aunts, uncles, teachers, and mother, about the adventures that his father had undergone. But even that information didn't suffice. His father seemed unique, perhaps due to his childhood struggles. Ironically, Harry seemed more famous for his generosity, his courage and kindness. But James wanted to see all that for himself. Moreover, he wanted to see the smaller things, things that others would consider insignificant. Things like his parents got along, if they shared anything in common, or what kind of humor his father had.

He must have been good company, especially if James's uncle Ron considered Harry as his 'best man'. James knew that his godfather enjoyed the company of people who knew how to entertain, someone with a sense of humor and laid-back. According to both Ginny and Hermione, Ron had been even more lively and cheerful when Harry was alive. But as soon as his best mate had fallen, Ron had lost his humor; what remained was simply a fragment of the past. As soon as Harry had passed, Ron quit his job and joined George in the shop. Ron seemed determined to bring the happiness that he had lost to others.

Now, James cursed his father for making him wait. Did his father know that one of his children was here?

"James?"

It was his mother.

He felt one of her skilled Quidditch hands thread through his hair as she repeated his name. Lifting his head, James's unusually solemn eyes rose up to meet her sympathetic identical ones. After all, if there was one thing he was sure to have shared with his father was that he looked eerily like his father, but he had his mother's eyes.

"He'll be here, don't worry. You're going to meet him eventually," Ginny murmured, tilting her head down to meet her son's eyes. In return, James ducked his head, pouted, and proceeded to toy with his mother's fingers using both of his hands. It looked like he had inherited his mother's rough hands, after all. They intertwined as twins, two pearls from the same oyster.

Interesting, that was something he had never noticed when he was alive.

But then, he had always taken her for granted.

"I know – it's just –" James bit his lip as he endeavored to voice his feelings. He groaned in frustration as his mother chuckled. And to his utmost dismay, he felt his eyes water. It took all of his willpower to stifle the tears.

Naturally, they did not go unseen by his mother.

Ginny's heart melted. She knew that her children cherished the stories about the gallant Harry Potter. They knew him as a hero. To the children, everyone seemed to know what a remarkable person their father was except for how they had grown up like their mother. She had grown up hearing the stories of her brother's best friend. Long had she waited to meet him. And when she finally met him, he instantly claimed her heart. Thus, she fully empathized with her son's impatience.

With a small tsk, she met foreheads with her son. "You know something?" Ginny said quietly, brushing salty tears away from his cheeks, "I think Grandmum Potter's calling you over. Reckon you could go greet her?"

She directed his blurred vision towards the kitchen door. There stood Lily Potter beckoning him towards her. He forced a small smile in return. At the sight of his tears, her elegant countenance slightly melted. James could not help but wonder why no one had ever emphasized how genuine Lily Evans Potter was. Like Teddy's father, Lily also seemed to understand people just by looking at them. She seemed to possess a sixth sense, which James thought was incredible.

He whirled around to find his mother's encouraging smile. With a gentle prod, Ginny released him, proud that her son found the courage to let go. She waited until his frame vanished before turning to chat with Hermione.

Meanwhile, James accompanied his grandmother to the kitchen. He noticed that she was alone, which was surprising. The house was filled to the brink yet she was here, cleaning up any last minute strays. Molly occasionally checked on her to ensure that Lily did not require any assistance. Of course, Lily kindly declined.

"Cocoa or Tea?" Lily asked. She guided him towards a serene corner where two armchairs were placed in front of an blazing fireplace.

"Cocoa, please," said James.

Her green eyes twinkled merrily. She then began bustling around the kitchen. Struggling to contain his excitement, James moved towards an armchair. These were his dad's parents. He had never known them but he had heard of the extraordinary sacrifice for their son. Their sacrifice for their son was well-renowned, and he admired their courage and love. Seeing them front-view first fueled that admiration.

However, as he sat down, James noticed a stray cloth tossed onto the armchair. With furrowed eyebrows, he noticed that it looked eerily familiar. Reaching out, he gasped loudly when he realized what it was.

"James? Are you alright?" asked a concerned Lily. When she got close enough, he looked up at her in awe.

"It's an Invisibility Cloak!" James exclaimed, grinning widely. Lily couldn't stifle her smile.

James knew that Harry had inherited the Cloak from his father before him. After Harry's unexpected death, the Cloak had been shared by all three Potter children.

But now, James was holding one right in his hand.

Lily sighed and shook her head in disapproval. "I keep having to tell Harry to place it somewhere in his room," and James smiled at her pout, "but he always forgets."

"So it's Dad's, then?" James asked wondrously. Lily nodded slowly and pinned him with a piercing look, as if she was struggling to imprint him in her memory. Meanwhile, James fidgeted under her gaze. Then, composing herself, she smiled lovingly, "I still find it strange that he's married and has three children. He always looks far too young for my liking."

"I reckon I've heard that from every Mum," he responded, his humor recovered. In return, she chuckled softly and reached out to ruffle his hair.

"I won't deny it," she affirmed. James laughed as he studied the Cloak in his hands. He was religiously clutching the Cloak, aware that the last person to hold it was his own father. To James, the Cloak seemed to lessen the distance between himself and his father. After all, he had heard how much his father had enjoyed it.

"Well, go on, I'm curious," Lily's voice drifted towards him. James noticed that she was leaning against a counter-top while stirring the cocoa in the pot, "Did you live up to the mischief of your blessed namesakes, or were you deprived from it?" Her eyes held a mischievous gleam and James's awkwardness abruptly vanished.

Leaning back in his father's armchair, he felt at home with the teasing smell of the cocoa drifting towards him, the soft yellow beam of the lights, the spacious kitchen, and her soothing voice. No wonder Harry liked to sit here.

"Naw," James shook his head and feigned an innocent look, "I was a good boy, just ask Mum."

She was now pouring the cocoa into two mugs. "Really?" and James bit his cheek to keep himself from smiling. He concluded that he liked Lily as a person, not only as a Gran, "Well – I think you're being modest."

"How, if I may ask?" James mocked, causing her to grin. He couldn't help but notice how pretty she looked when she smiled. She then approached him with a slight raise in an auburn eyebrow as she handed him his mug and took a seat across from him. She, too, began sipping on her mug.

"Well, from what I've heard from said Mum," she said with a small hum. Her eyes downcast, she began circling the surface of her mug, "was that you could be as good as a Marauder." A small smirk tugged at the corner of her lips.

"Well, I am the grandson of a Marauder," James replied obviously, mirth in his tone. Lily simply laughed in response. He already welcomed her company. She seemed gentle and lighthearted, and he thrived in her company. Moreover, he could control his emotions when he was not actively thinking about his father. In other words, he welcomed the distraction.

"Right. How ever could I have forgotten?" Lily shook her head exasperatedly before shifting her attention towards the fireplace, a smile ever-present.

James loved bringing joy to others. Even when dreary thoughts haunted him, he actively gauged out the happiness in others. He inferred that happiness was contagious and that if others were happy, then he could be happy, too. He maintained this thought process throughout his life, from his childhood to his elderly years.

Content, both grandmother and grandson fell into a comfortable silence, each occasionally sipping on their mug. The fireplace flickered beside them. Tales and fables arose from within the flames. Though some may claim this phenomenon as imagination or misinterpretation, both Lily and James recounted many tales from within the flames. Strange, thought James, gazing at fireplaces was like gazing at clouds. Suddenly, a creature, a person, or even a place appeared from within the the flames.

With a start, James heard a soft pecking coming from somewhere. Struggling to maintain his composure, he inquired, "Is that – ?"

There, he caught Lily's attention; she, too, heard the noise. With a slap to her forehead, she walked towards a window in the corner of the room and muttered, "Oh. Had nearly slipped my mind, that one."

James remained in his seat, disappointed. He had hoped that the tapping had signified Harry's arrival. Forcing composure, James watched Lily emerge. Because of the close proximity between him and his father, James struggled to keep his emotions at bay.

Lily, however, seemed to have other company.

"I asked Harry if I could borrow her for the evening," she said, nodding towards her companion, "My mum's not quite known for her patience."

James's brown eyes widened. There, resting on Lily's arm, was an intelligent snowy owl, blinking its wide amber eyes at him. Its eyes bore a childish wonder, yet James could think no more. He simply studied her with mutual wonder.

"Would you like to hold her?" Lily suddenly asked, breaking his trance. Without waiting for an answer, she crouched down to his level, and leveled her arm with his arm. The owl, after a moment of hesitation, hopped onto the latter's arm. She peered up at him in, what seemed to James as, confusion.

"Is that – I mean – is this – ?" James stuttered, struggling to clear his thoughts. Discreetly, he reached to pet the owl. It was ever-so familiar. Instinctively, he knew the owl from the many stories and pictures that he had collected over the years.

"Hedwig." He breathed. The owl hooted in response and permitted him to stroke her.

Lily hummed. Crouched on the floor, she folded her arms on the table, rested her chin onto them, and observed them. James nearly chuckled. Her actions reminded him of his Lily, the one he had left behind. A pang to the chest accompanied that thought.

"I think she's confused, don't you think?" she asked in a quiet tone. James, in turn, looked at her with a bemused curl of his lip.

"Er – yeah, she does look like it. A bit, I mean."

"I've never seen her stare at anyone for so long," she murmured, bringing her hand forward to stroke the subject in question, "I s'pose because you look so much like him." Her smile was a tremulous one.

"I've heard loads of people tell that to Albus," James grimaced, causing Lily to smile. Nevertheless, he felt the usual spark of pride erupt in his chest at the comment, "Not so much for me. Just the usual 'you look so much like your father, but you've got your mum's eyes'."

"Well – then, I'm happy to be one of the few," she tapped his nose, chuckling. He playfully batted her hands away, "and you aren't alone in your complaining. You should hear Harry."

"So I've heard," James muttered, cursing his father once more, and he hadn't even met him yet. James Potter was never patient. He wanted to meet his father. But this sense of frustration mitigated as Hedwig nipped his finger affectionately. With a final hoot, she flew towards the open door – to where, James supposed, was her cage or something.

"Speaking of my punctual son," amused, James watched as Lily craned her neck to eye the clock with narrowed eyes. His dad was going to get it, "It's nearly dark and he still hasn't arrived."

Lily stood up abruptly. With an annoyed look, she exited the kitchen to, James assumed, the living room to ask if Harry had arrived yet. Amused, James chuckled as he recalled the phrase that Fred, his partner-in-crime and cousin, had used regarding mothers: "Stay away from an angry mother hen. She bites, even if she hasn't got any teeth."

And here was a mother who had exchanged her own life for her son.

Harry was lucky he was already a dead man.

"Is he always this late?" James asked when she returned. With fascination, he watched as Lily conjured the doe patronus and set it free. The doe then pranced off to find its fawn.

With a pout, Lily dramatically threw herself back onto the armchair. "All the time. And when I lecture him for it, he'll apologize one day and the next day – "

"He's out the door," James finished knowingly. After all, he had kids for himself. And, being – well, 'the grandson of a Marauder', he, himself, had played the game many times.

Lily sighed.

"Unfortunately."

"My sister Lily and I are about the same," James said, staring fixedly at the flames. Memories blurred his vision as he elaborated, "We don't like staying in the house either." Shrugging, he turned towards her to find her staring intently at him. She seemed keen for an elaboration.

She looked genuinely interested and eager to hear more about her grandkids so James began the story of him and his siblings as she smiled, gasped, and chuckled. He told her about how he struggled to take the responsibility of the family, how curious and quiet his brother Albus was, and how mischievous and reckless Lily could be. He realized that he liked talking to her. She hardly interrupted and seemed eager to hear him out. Not once did she complain. Both grandmother and grandson spent the afternoon in soft conversation. The atmosphere simply begged for quiet moments like this and he relished in it.

At least, until he became dangerously tired, despite the sun's halfway setting.

"Aw, looks like someone's getting drowsy," Lily teased, breaking her vow of silence. However, she noticed that her grandson didn't seem to mind her questions, "Don't sleep now, I've got a job for you to do. If you're up to it, that is." She glanced worriedly at him.

James, in turn, shook his head to rid himself of lethargy before he asked, "Job? What job?"

Noticing his struggle to remain composed, she asked, "Are you sure?"

"I suppo – "

But James was interrupted by a bright light that suddenly consumed the room. Both Lily and James turned their attention to their new visitor as it pranced towards Lily, who – James noticed – was looking fondly at it. It was a full corporeal stag, both magnificent and graceful. It's antlers bowed towards the doe owner. Astutely, James recognized the significance of the stag. The patronuses portrayed the closeness of the family. In other words, the doe had found its fawn.

This was Harry's patronus.

They both watched as the stag opened its mouth and spoke in an apologetic tone, "Sorry for being late, Mum. Ran into a few delays, I'll explain later. Be back in half an hour." The stag then knelt down to rest its head on one of its legs, closed its eyes, and after a moment, it slowly faded away, leaving nothing but silence.

What a show.

"That was – " speechless, James spouted, "brilliant."

"It is, isn't it?" Lily agreed quietly, obviously deep in her thoughts. Shaking her head, she snapped her head out of her thoughts and turned towards James. A mixture of love and anxiety filled her eyes. He supposed that the stag had touched her deeply, and he couldn't really blame her. The stag was visual proof of Harry's love for both of his parents, "Well, there's your exit."

It took James a moment to understand her intention.

"What?" he said, bewildered.

Confused, he watched her stand up and, with a twinkle in her eyes, disappear down the hall. James sat alone to reflect What did she mean? But no sooner had she left had she arrived again. A coat and winter robes that looked just his size were in her arms. Still bewildered, James watched dumbly as she beckoned him towards the center of the room. Rolling her eyes, Lily came towards him, grabbed one of his small hands and brought him towards the center of the room. Without a word, she tucked him into a black winter coat, with him subconsciously following.

As she buttoned up the coat, she explained, "These were Harry's when he was about your size, but he grew out of them, eventually. He hated being small," still engrossed in her task, she smiled fondly, "Everyone first arrives small, I know I was once. I suppose it's a way to restart your life. Make it a happier one," listening intently, he stood quietly as she drenched him in black winter robes, "But he was so small, then. I wished he had stayed that way."

James couldn't help laugh at her dreamy expression. A halfhearted glare greeted him in return, "Well, he was, if he hadn't been sulking half the time." She rolled her eyes exasperatedly.

"Sulking?" James asked in surprise. Lily continued her task by draping a cloak around his shoulder, fastening the strap, and smoothing out the wrinkles. She then finished it off with a bright green scarf that James instinctively knew was Harry's. After all, he had heard how much his grandmother Weasley had loved to liven the color of his eyes. He didn't interrupt Lily, though. She was in full-mother mode, "Really?"

"Mmhm," Lily confirmed. After critiquing her work, she finally lifted her green eyes to meet his brown ones; an unexpectedly solemn look appeared on her features, "But I s'pose you would have liked to figure that out for yourself, wouldn't you?" James couldn't hold her gaze. Instead, he studied the floor beneath his feet and inexplicably wondered if Lily was an unregistered Legilmens, "James?" Lifting his chin to meet his eyes, she smiled sadly at his stifled tears.

Throughout his entire life, James had always played the role of the valiant and strong older brother – next to Teddy. No one had ever seen him for his weaknesses or for the tight cuffs around his emotions. No one except his mother. He knew that he was at fault for exposing his true self to no one but his mother, but he had always feared vulnerability. He had allowed his younger siblings to shed their tears and confessions while he played the gaping fatherly role. But now, he realized, that the effort had left him broken and exhausted.

However, he didn't know why, but he felt comfortable unveiling his emotions. Perhaps because he knew that she wouldn't rattle on him.

Thus, with a shaking breath, he whispered with his eyes still downcast, "D'you think he'll be proud of me?" He knew it was something Albus would say, but he desperately wanted to know. After all, he had played the father role. He had felt like he had been assuaging Harry's guilt for leaving his family. If there was one thing everyone had agreed on, it was that Harry would be grieve-stricken for leaving his family. Hence, James had found the courage to continue his role, if only for his dad to rest in peace.

"Let's see," she murmured quietly, as if wary of chasing the silence away. She was fussing over an imaginary wrinkle on his scarf, and James found himself hanging onto her every word, "Towards a son who supported his family, a son who's kind, giving, and mischievous, bless you," she emphasized with a pointed look, causing James to chuckle slightly, "There's no doubt in my mind why he wouldn't be. He's not that hard to please, you know." She finished quietly, gracefully tucking a jet-black lock behind his ear.

James nodded, pondered for a moment before peeking up at her, "How will I find him?" She merely smiled.

"You'll know."

After a moment of hesitance, James nodded and stepped forward to embrace his gran. Though he had only just met her, he felt fond of her. He was looking forward to spending more time with her in the future.

"Thanks, Gran."

With a tight embrace, Lily responded with a rather emotional tone. "You're welcome, sweetheart. Now go on, and good luck. And give him a lecture for me, will you?"

James opened the back door to the kitchen and turned towards her with a trademark grin, "I will." With one last wave, James stepped outside and began his journey.

A/N: I have been editing this. Let me know if you like it.

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