DISCLAIMER: All things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling.

~Ingrate~

"Like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives..."

Seven year old James Sirius Potter wished he had never said he was jealous of his little brother for getting the cooler name.

He also wished his parents had less inventive ways of deciding on punishments.

He silently cursed his impulse to comment on the cool factor of his brother's name as compared to his own, especially within earshot of his mother, who had decided he needed a lesson in being grateful for what he had.

As a third cat climbed into his lap, James sighed. He really wanted to go home.

Even though the sigh hadn't been very loud, Mrs. Figg shushed him. She didn't like anyone to make noise during her soap operas.

Well, the cats meowed during the program and she didn't shush them.

~end~