Harry's Wish

Chapter 15: Sick Days and Stories

A/N: I just have to say... I just finished watching Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows part 2. Finally, all books read, and movies watched! I know what you're thinking: She is eighteen, and she just finished? Late bloomer, sorry! just have to ask, what part, if any, did you cry at in any of the movies? Books? I bawled like a little baby when I watched the scene with the resurrection stone in pt. 2 movie, and when Fred died in the book. I may have shed a tear when Snape died in the movie. Please let me know in the comments.

This is a sort of filler chapter. It will take place during Christmas break. I sort of made this chapter for Harry and James bonding.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not even James Potter. *sobs uncontrollably*

Harry Potter awoke on a cold Saturday morning with a gasp. He had had a nightmare. In his nightmare, Voldemort had found out that Harry's dad was back from the dead. Then, he killed James with the Killing Curse right in front of Harry.

Harry took deep breaths and wiped his cheeks that were wet with tears. He looked at the clock. It was relatively late, and the second years dorm was empty.

Harry got dressed in regular muggle clothing. A week after they reunited, his father took Harry to muggle London to get clothes. He then crept down to the common room and left through the portrait hole. He walked at a leisurely pace, trying to forget about the nightmare.

A little ways down, Harry stopped outside a door. It looked familiar. After a second, he realized that it was his father's sleeping quarters that he had been taken to a month and a half ago.

Without so much as a second's hesitation, Harry knocked softly on the door. He figured since it was early enough, his father would be there.

After another soft knock, the door opened to reveal his father in plaid pajamas. His hair was messier than Harry had ever seen it and his glasses were sliding down his nose. James must have just woken up.

"Harry?" James murmured.

"I'm sorry." Harry said quietly. "I didn't know that you were still sleeping." He blushed slightly.

"No, it's okay." James said. Something was off, Harry noticed. He analyzed his father the way Hermione would analyze Harry if she suspected something was ailing him.

James was pale, Harry decided. His expression was slightly pinched, as if he were in pain. James was sick, Harry realized, frowning slightly. He was about to voice his observations, when his father's complexion paled even more and gained a green tinge. James' eyes widened and he spun on his heel, covering his mouth with one hand, and ran towards the bathroom.

Harry stood in the doorway, frozen with surprise. After a second, what he saw clicked, and he ran towards the bathroom after James.

He reached the bathroom in time to see his father rid his stomach of its contents violently into the toilet. It was quite a pathetic scene for Harry to witness. Seeing James in such a vulnerable position made Harry immediately feel protective. He longed to comfort James, so he dropped to his knees next to him and started rubbing his back in soothing circles.

When there was nothing left for his stomach to expel, James slumped over, wrapped his arms around his middle, and moaned.

Harry wasn't sure what he should do to help James. He finally decided that water would be a good thing, so he grabbed a glass from the bathroom cupboard and filled it with tap water. He then pressed the glass to James' shaking hand.

"Take small sips." Harry instructed. James sipped at the water, then handed Harry the glass.

"You don't have to." James whispered. His voice was scratchy and hoarse from retching, and his face was flushed with fever. "After all; aren't I your dad? I should take care of you."

"I suppose," Harry said. "But I love you and I'm not going to leave you alone to fend for yourself when you're sick, Dad."

Harry knew most kids wouldn't care for their parents when they were ill, but Harry wasn't like most kids. After living with a horrible uncle and aunt who didn't care about him, and no parents, he would take care of his sick dad. It was a small price to pay when he got so much in return. He decided to voice his thoughts.

"You know, it's a small price to pay when I get so much in return for you being here." Harry said. James looked at Harry.

"You really mean that?" James whispered. His eyes shone with unshed tears of emotion. Harry fiddled with the glass.

"Yes." He said softly. James smiled a little. Harry got up and began rummaging through the bathroom cupboards and drawers.

"What are you doing?" James whispered. Harry opened another cupboard and stuck his head in, searching.

"I'm looking for a thermometer." Harry said. James was confused.

"What's a thermometer?" He asked. Harry laughed a little.

"I forgot you wouldn't know." Harry chuckled. "Well, I guess you wouldn't have one then!" He closed the cupboards and turned to face James. "A thermometer is a muggle instrument that checks temperature." You place it under your tongue, close your mouth and wait for it to beep."

"Lily used one of those on me once." James recalled. "And, she gave me a thorough explanation. I just forgot." He smiled sheepishly.

Harry smiled. Then he offered his hand to his father and pulled him to his feet. James swayed a little and grabbed Harry's shoulder for balance. Harry locked his knees so they wouldn't buckle under his father's weight.

"Okay, you are going to bed." Harry said.

After James crawled into bed and pulled the covers up to his chin, Harry turned to leave. He planned to get Madame Pompfry to check on his dad.

Harry walked swiftly towards the infirmary. He kept an eye out for Ron and Hermione, to let them know where he had been and where he was going.

In the hall outside the hospital wing, Harry ran into his two friends.

"Harry!" Hermione berated. "We've been looking for you all over!"

"Sorry." Harry apologized. "I went to my dad's rooms."

"Where is he now?" Ron asked.

"He's in bed." Hermione raised an eyebrow and gestured for him to elaborate.

"He's sick." Harry continued. "He has the stomach flu, I think."

"Oh, that's too bad." Hermione said. Ron nodded in agreement.

"I was actually on my way to the infirmary to ask Madame Pompfrey if she could check on him."

"That is really good of you, Harry." Hermione said.

"We'll meet you later, mate." Ron added. "Take your time." Harry nodded and headed to the infirmary. He opened the door and saw it was empty, with the exception of the matron, who was making the hospital beds.

Harry walked over to a nearby sink, washed his hands thoroughly, and proceeded to help the Mediwitch make the beds. At first, she didn't seem to notice, when she moved to the next bed and found it already made, she jerked her head up to look around. She locked eyes with Harry, who had already finished making another bed.

"Mr. Potter?" She questioned, surprised. "What are you doing here on a fine day off?"

"I actually wanted to ask if you could do me a favor?" Harry said quietly. The matron raised an eyebrow.

"What do you need, Mr. Potter?"

"Well, my father is sick, and I was wondering if you could check on him?" It sounded like a question.

"Of course I can." Madame Pompfrey said. "Oh, Potter?" Harry looked up at her. "Thank you for helping me with the beds." She smiled gently. Harry blushed.

"You're welcome." He murmured.

They walked down towards Gryffindor Tower without talking. Harry led the matron to his father's living quarters. He tried the door to find it locked. He pointed his wand at the door.

"Alohamora." The door opened, and the pair walked inside quietly. "I put him to bed before I went to get you." Harry said. Madame Pompfrey smirked a little. Potter was treating his father like an ill child. Her smirk turned to a tender smile as she realized that Harry was protective of his dad, most likely because he had died. Harry was probably worried that You Know Who would find out his father was alive again.

Harry led the Mediwitch into his father's bedroom. James was curled up on his side, arms wrapped around his abdomen. Seeing his dad in pain was difficult for Harry. He didn't really like seeing anyone he cared about in pain, but it physically hurt to see James in such a state.

"Well, well, well." Madame Pompfrey said gently. "What seems to be the problem, Mr. Potter?"

"I think I'm sick, Madame Pompfrey." James muttered. James had woken up early because he felt nauseated. Now, he felt horrible. He was feverish, his muscles ached, and his stomach hurt.

"Lie on your back please, Potter." The matron said, placing her medical bag on a nearby table. "What are your symptoms?"

James grimaced as he rolled onto his back. His stomach gurgled loudly, and he blushed, embarrassed.

"Well... That." He said, gesturing towards his abdomen to show he was referring to the sound his stomach had made. He saw Harry smile slightly. "Muscle aches, nausea, vomiting, and stomach cramps."

Madame Pompfrey nodded and performed a couple of diagnostic spells. After that, she cast another spell to check James' temperature.

"Well, you have a fever of 100 (F) degrees." Said the matron. She pulled a muggle stethoscope from her bag and placed the nibs in her ears, and the bell on James' middle abdomen. After a couple seconds, she removed the nibs.

"You definitely have the flu, Potter." She said. James nodded. He gasped quietly as a strong cramp rolled through his belly.

"Potter?" The matron asked, concerned. James pressed a hand to his stomach, grimacing.

"What can I do to ease the cramps?" He asked.

"I usually use a hot water bottle." Harry said. James started. He had almost forgotten that his son was still in the room.

"That is the best suggestion." Madame Pompfrey said. "I'm going to leave you with a couple stomach calming potions, a fever reducer, and a muggle thermometer." She placed said items on the bedside table and turned to Harry.

"I'll watch over him." Harry said. The matron nodded and left the two in peace.

"You sure you want to stay here?" James asked Harry.

"Yes, I am." Harry replied. James was touched. He hadn't considered that Harry would be so invested in his well being. He figured that it was hard to live without parents, and that was the reason Harry cared so much.

Harry dragged a chair to James' bedside and sat. James smiled slightly at him and burrowed deeper under the covers. He curled up on his side, wrapping his arms around his middle as his stomach began cramping again.

"You know, since you're sick and have to stay here, I could tell you stories." Harry said awkwardly. James laughed, then groaned when his stomach growled angrily.

"Stories?" James questioned skeptically. "About what?"

"Well, I never told you about my life before you came back." Harry replied, getting up.

"Oh, I'd like that!" James exclaimed quietly. "Wait, where are you going?"

"To get you a hot water bottle." Harry said. "I can tell your stomach is cramping up." James didn't deny it. However, he was curious as to how Harry knew that.

"How did you know?" He asked. Harry smiled softly.

"When my stomach cramps from sickness or hunger, I do the same thing."

James saw red. Cramps from hunger. He was pissed. He knew that Harry had often been deprived of food, but this sounded a lot more like starvation. He watched as his son's emerald eyes lost humor, filling with concern.

"I knew you went hungry often," James started. His voice dropped to a growl. "But I had no idea that you were slowly starving to death!"

Harry grimaced. He hadn't meant to say that. His dad looked murderously angry. He wasn't sure if he should say something, so he remained silent. He got up and left the room, heading to the door. He planned to get the hot water bottle from his dorm room. He opened the door and started down the hall.

Suddenly he heard voices coming down the hall. He pressed himself against the wall and listened.

"I'm pretty sure that Professor Potter's sleeping quarters are down the hall." Hermione was saying.

"Well-" Ron started, but Harry interrupted.

"Hey, guys!"

Hermione shrieked in surprise.

"Oh, Harry!" She said. "You startled me! How's your dad?"

"He has the flu, but he'll be fine."

"We were looking for you to see if you wanted us to do anything, mate." Ron said. Harry smiled.

"I'm glad you said that Ron." He said. "I was going to go to the dormitory to grab the hot water bottle for my dad."

"We can get it for you, Harry." Hermione said. Ron nodded.

"Brilliant!" Harry said. He smiled at them again and went back in his father's quarters. He walked back to the bedroom to find it empty. Harry panicked. His heart was racing with an irrational fear.

"Dad?" He called. He got no reply. He rushed through the small apartment.

"Dad!" Harry shouted, panic showing through his voice. "Dad!"

He reached the bathroom and threw the door open. His father was kneeling in front of the porcelain bowl, convulsing harshly. Harry felt immense relief, mixed with a new concern. He rushed to his father's side and dropped to his knees. He began rubbing James' back in circles.

...

James watched Harry leave. He assumed that the young boy had been driven out by his anger. James was slightly disappointed. He didn't blame Harry though. After all, James was incredibly angry when he heard about Harry starving during the summer months.

James' musings were interrupted when his stomach rolled, growling loudly. James moaned as nausea attacked full force. He ran to the bathroom and dropped to his knees before the porcelain and began vomiting violently.

He was catching his breath between episodes when the front door opened and closed. After a couple seconds, he heard his son calling to him.

"Dad?" James was going to reply, but he was overcome with horrible nausea that had him retching again.

"Dad!" Harry sounded panicked now. After a bit, James felt a small hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles. When the nausea ebbed, James sagged against the wall and pressed his hands to his abdomen. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, attempting to settle his stomach.

"Do you want to go to bed?" Harry whispered softly. "Or do you still feel sick? Do you want water?"

"Water please." James murmured. Harry got up and grabbed the glass from earlier, filling it with cold water. He handed it to James, and watched as he took small sips.

After about half a glass, James handed Harry the glass. Harry poured the rest of the water down the drain and offered his hand to James.

James allowed Harry to pull him to his feet and lead him to bed. James crawled into bed and lay on his back.

"I didn't think you were coming back." Whispered James. "I thought I scared you away."

"You didn't scare me away." Harry replied, puzzled. "I went to get the hot water bottle and ran into Ron and Hermione. They said they would get it for me."

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

"I'll be right back." Harry said. James merely nodded, wincing as his stomach cramped.

Harry walked quickly to the front door. He opened it to allow Ron and Hermione in.

Hermione handed him the hot water bottle and she and Ron turned to leave.

"You can come in if you want." He said. "Say hi, if you wish." They nodded and followed Harry through the small apartment.

James turned his head towards the door when it opened. He was surprised to see Ron and Hermione behind Harry. They were quiet, not sure what to say or do, James assumed. Hermione broke the silence.

"It's really too bad you are sick, Mr. P- J-James." She stuttered, stopping herself from calling him Mr. Potter. James gave her a weak smile.

"Hey, Hermione." He said quietly. "You actually called me James. I knew you could do it." She blushed.

"I hope you feel better soon, James." Ron said. "Preferably by Monday." Hermione whacked Ron's arm.

"Really, Ronald?" She scolded. "Have you no tact?" James snorted.

"It's fine, Hermione." He said. "So do I, Ron." He grinned. "Besides, I'm just such a good professor, everyone would be sad if I missed class." Harry rolled his eyes.

"You know, I never believed Professor Snape, but your dad is slightly arrogant." Hermione whispered to Harry. Harry snorted.

"Isn't he?" He muttered. Ron was talking to James, so Harry decided to get the water bottle prepared. Hermione followed him.

"So, you used those a lot?" Hermione said. Harry nodded as he filled the bottle.

"They're quite useful. Why?"

"Well, Ron was telling me how he rescued you from your barred up bedroom over the summer." She swallowed and nervously twisted her fingers together. Harry took no notice of this, for he was closing the top and working on heating it up.

"He said that the Dursleys were starving you."

"Yeah, they were." Harry said. "I know what you are going to ask, and yeah. I used this for hunger pains." Hermione looked murderous. "Don't worry about it. I won't ever be going back there. I'll live with my dad from now on."

Hermione nodded and the two went back to James and Ron. Harry handed James the hot water bottle and sat on the edge of the bed. James pressed the bottle to his abdomen and sighed quietly in relief.

"Ron and I should probably go," Hermione said. "We have to finish our Potions essay."

"See you later, Harry." Ron said. Harry waved and they left.

"So, you promised me a story." James smiled a little. "Tell me a good one." His eyes lit up a little, almost like a child's. "One about a brave boy who saves the world, who battles trolls, and solves mysteries..." Harry laughed and blushed brilliantly.

"Well," he said jokingly. "There was this one boy, born to the bravest parents of all time. He was called, as much as I hate this title, The Boy Who Lived."

James chuckled. He knew about Harry's title of fame he received after surviving the Killing Curse.

...

Harry spent all day telling James of his life. He told James everything. He started with the earliest memories he could remember, up to the incident with the flying car and the Whomping Willow. James was enthralled by the stories. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought Harry was exaggerating his adventures.

Harry treaded carefully when he told of his encounter with Quirrell and Voldemort. He told the basics. When he told James how Voldemort tried to tempt him with the promise of bringing his parents back, James turned red with anger, but glowed with pride when Harry refused to give in.

"Harry," James said after Harry had finished his story. "You are the bravest person I know."

Harry ducked his head and blushed. He didn't agree with that statement. Of course he was brave, but in his opinion, his parents were the bravest people. After all; they had died for him. To Harry, that was the bravest thing a person could do.

"Dad." Harry said, slowly shaking his head. "You are the bravest person I know. Mom was brave too. You both died for me. What is braver than that?"

"Well, it's more selfless than anything else." James muttered.

It's brave, too." Harry said firmly in a way that left no room for discussion. Then, Harry suddenly realized something. "Is it true that you faced Voldemort without a wand?" James nodded.

"Yes, I did." He said quietly.

"Can you tell me a story?" Harry asked.

"About what?"

"What was school like for you?" James grinned.

"Well, once there was a group of friends who were the best pranksters in the history of wizards." As James said this, his eyes seemed distant, as though he was being pulled into a memory. "This group of friends went by the name of the Marauders."

"What were they like?" Harry asked, eyes wide with excitement.

"We don't talk about the traitorous rat Wormtail. But Padfoot was the loyal dog, and Moony was the smart and kind wolf." James paused for dramatic effect.

"And then there was Prongs."

A/N: Okay, I did some bonding. Sorry about not actually writing about James' adventures, but there are fanfictions for that. Check them out. I did this as a filler chapter. Feel free to add any suggestions on what happens next.