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James Potter's Good Day	By : TheLadyFeylene Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 11583 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-James Potter's Good Day
- 1
Disclaimer: No characters are mine.
Warning: Male on male situations, some allusions to rape, incest. You have been warned.
Author: Lady Feylene
Rating: R, bordering N-17
Summary: This is for the Roughside Slave FQF. I combined #'s 23. Oh, you only THOUGHT James and Lily were dead. The truth is much, much worse... (Amanuensis) and101. Pairing: Harry/James. Hint: Time travel is your friend. (Seraphtrevs)
Author's Note: This is one messed up story. I don't know where it came from, and it certainly didn't end up as I had intended. I've always had a certain liking for the James/Harry pairing, but it's so difficult to do. This is my second attempt at it, and I'm rather fond of it. Hope you enjoy!

James Potter's Good Day
Darkness. It was...infinite. It was engulfing and cold, sterile, and chilling. James abhorred the darkness. He paced back and forth, despite not being able to see well. He knew the length of this room as well as he knew his own name. He couldn't count the number of days (or weeks, or months, or years) he had spent in the small space, but it was enough to be able to walk every inch of it with his eyes closed.
Sometimes people came and spoke with him, but never for long. They often just left him food and water for cleaning himself, and left. Or they would play with him. But that had stopped rather quickly. It was as if he made them uncomfortable, but he didn't know why. He knew they were Death Eaters. He knew he had been captured by Voldemort, and he knew his wife and child were dead. Somehow, after so long, those had become very abstract thoughts. Well, he told himself they were abstract. It was easier then dealing with it.
They never told him much. As far as he could tell, the war was still waging on. No side was gaining any footage. He really didn't care too much anymore. He was half starved, and tired of living. He would have killed himself if they hadn't charmed him against it. He couldn't hurt himself. But he was certainly allowed to hurt others. Encouraged, even. He had never been a violent person, but he wasn't strong enough to fight the Imperius curse. They found it amusing, controlling him, forcing him to do things he would under no other circumstances do.
Eventually, it wore on him. Routine became just that. Any living thing can be conditioned, it simply took longer on some. After years, James had become accustomed to hurting. His mind had changed, slowly. Ideas that were once foreign to him became ingrained. The desire to hurt, to dominate. They worked their way in slowly, one day at a time. With each casting of the curse, the desires and ideas lingered longer and longer, until they simply stayed. They were like a houseguest that had taken up permanent residence. And James hadn't even noticed.
He no longer thought of himself as a prisoner. He wasn't sure what he thought of himself as. A Death Eater? No, because he didn't serve Voldemort. Not really. Maybe he was a prisoner.
He wondered what would happen today. Would it be a good day? He generally only had bad days. He knew the passing of days, as there was light that grew dimmer or brighter. He could only assume it was at least some parody of sunlight, of days dawn and end. It was past the time when someone came. There had been no breakfast (or the meal James called breakfast), and no lunch. He didn't like change. Had the side of darkness been defeated? Or was a battle raging strongly?
Eventually, the door opened. Two guards (James called them Burly and Sweaty) hauled in a small, limp body. James sighed, feeling a familiar desire building inside of his mind. He never thought to fight it. He closed his eyes, letting it slip into his veins like some drug.
"A little something for you." Burly said, tossing the boy into the dark cell. "You can play with it as long as you like, just don't break it. Lord wants to do that himself. Hehehe. Thought it would be funny to let you have a go first..."
James nodded. He didn't like talking to Burly and Sweaty. The pale blonde one was friendlier, and seemed far more coherent. The two guards left, and locked the door. Not that James ever tried to get out anyway.
He knelt, turning the boy over onto his back. He was impressed. They usually gave him escaped Death Eaters, or captured ministry workers. Greasy, plump men who whined and whimpered. Thing, stringy women who shrieked. This boy was beautiful. He looked about sixteen years old, coal black hair and ice pale skin. There was a strange marking across his forehead, like a slash of lightening. His body was lean, and he was dressed in torn black robes. There was something around his neck, and James recognized it as a slave collar.
"What...where am I?" The boy opened his eyes, brilliant green eyes. James sighed, reaching out to touch the boy's ashen cheek. Those eyes...verdine and haunted. They bore into his soul and made him ache.
"You're here." James said, fingers trailing over smooth skin. "This is where I stay."
"Who're you?" The boy sat up, scooting away in fear. His eyes were wide, and he held himself tightly.
"That doesn't matter." James shook his head. They had told him never to reveal his name. He didn't want to anger them.
"What're you going to do to me?" There was a waver in his voice.
"I don't know yet." James shook his head. He didn't want to hurt this one. He wanted to touch him, to caress him. "I'm not going to hurt you."
"Are you a prisoner?"
"No." James shook his head. "Well...maybe. I don't really know anymore."
"Oh." The boy was silent a moment, but he seemed to relax some. "You've been here a long time?"
"I think so. As long as the war's been going on, I think."
"That's not very long at all." The boy said, frowning. "The real war just started a few months ago..."
"No." James shook his head. The boy was confused. "It's been much longer then that. We were already years into it when the took me..." He trailed off, not wanting to think about that. He didn't remember much about that night, but he knew it had been bad.
"They said...I heard them saying something about...why am I here?"
"Oh that." James gave a small laugh. "They want me to hurt you. I do that, sometimes. They bring people, and they make me hurt them. But I don't want to hurt you."
"Oh. Well. Good, then." The boy seemed very nervous. James sat next to him, wanting to ease his fears.
"Just relax." James put an arm around the boy, holding him close. He felt him tense, and rubbed his shoulder softly. "It's going to be all right..."
His words didn't seem to soothe the boy. In fact, that seemed to have the opposite effect of the one intended. The boy pulled away, dashing tears away from his eyes. James frowned, wishing he knew what he could do to help the boy through this ordeal.
"I...I don't really trust you."
"Why not?" James found it odd, to think that someone wouldn't trust him. He's always been quite trustworthy.
"You might be one of them. They're weird, that way."
"Oh." James nodded. "I'm not. I don't carry his mark, or anything like that."
"Still...."
"You're smart." James nodded. "But I meant what I said, I don't mean you any harm."
"So why do they keep you here? You look, I don't know, clean and stuff."
"I'm not really sure. They used to use the Imperius curse on me a lot. They don't really have to anymore."
"What do you mean?" The boy wiped damp bangs out of his eyes, looking on with interest.
"I don't know. I...I feel like I'm under the curse sometimes, even when I'm not. I guess it's just in my mind now." James shrugged. It didn't matter much. Nothing mattered, anymore. He supposed he was starting to go insane. It was bound to happen, eventually.
"I'm sorry. So...they just keep you here, huh?"
"Pretty much. I used to hate it but...I guess I've gotten used to it." James shrugged yet again. He wasn't used to such lucid conversation.
"You're like a slave, you know that don't you?"
"No, it's not like that...well, maybe it is." James amended, laughing a little. He felt rather bad that the boy was going to be killed by Voldemort.
"Do you know why I'm here?"
"For me. Before Voldemort kills you."
"Oh." The boy sighed. "I figured he would have just done it by now..."
"He wanted me to...to..." James just trailed off. "Hurt you."
"Why?"
"I don't know. He think's it's funny, sometimes. Making me do things I wouldn't want to."
"They're sick."
"Yeah."
There was a comfortable moment of silence. James looked down at the boy, and was caught up again in his fragile beauty. In a moment of something James couldn't quite place, he lowered his head to capture his cellmate's lips.
"What was that?" The boy pulled away, sounding outraged.
"I'm sorry." James looked away, sighing. "I lose control, sometimes."
"Oh." The boy was quiet a moment. And then: "You can do it again, if you want."
"Are you sure?"
"Well, I'm going to die anyway. Might as well." He shrugged, and James smiled. He kissed him again, realizing the boy was an innocent. His lips were awkward and trembling under his, his hands unsteady on James' chest. They sat together, in a rather heated embrace for a few minutes. James pulled away, hands tangled in the boy's hair.
"I don't even know your name..." James said, kissing the boy's neck.
"Harry..."
"Really?" James liked at the pale flesh above harry's collar. "Always one of my favorite names...named my son harry..."
"You have a son?"
"Not anymore." James pulled at Harry's robes, and tugged at he sweater beneath it. He wanted the boy naked and on his back.
"What happened?"
"Voldemort killed him." James was amazed at how easy it was to say that. He pulled the sweater off of Harry, hands moving over smooth planes of white skin. He teased and pinched, petted and stroked.
"I'm sorry..." And Harry sounded as if he truly was. James sighed, looking up. Why did the boy's eyes look so much like Lily's?
"It's okay. I hardly remember him." James didn't want to talk about it. He dipped his hand into the boy's waistband, fingers seeking straining flesh. He slid the pants away, tossing them aside and wrapping his fingers firmly around the boy's erection.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" The boy was pulling away. It was hard to think of him as Harry. Harry had always been his son. A small bundle of black hair and Lily's eyes.
"Sure. Why wouldn't I?"
"Well...it's just, you're talking about your dead son. Who has the same name as me. If he looked like me, then we've got a real twisted situation. It's sort of a turn off."
"You know, he probably wouldn't looked like you." James regarded the boy evenly. Pale skin, unruly black hair, deep emerald eyes, lean features...it was almost like looking in a mirror. Twenty years ago.
"Would've?" Confusion in the boy's voice.
"He was hardly over a year when he was killed." James sighed, raking his own hair out of his eyes.
"Oh?"
"Look, here's what happened." It seemed the boy wasn't going to leave it alone. "Voldemort killed my wife and son. I was captured. I've been here ever since. That's all there is too it."
"Sir, I think you're confused." The boy frowned. "There's a pretty good track of everyone Voldemort's killed...and he hasn't killed any children. Not for a real long time anyway."
"No, he killed them." James shook his head. What else could have happened? He could remember Lily's screams, and Peter yelling something...
"Maybe...did you see it?"
"No." James shook his head. "I was...I don't really remember. He hexed me, and I fell, and I could hear her screaming, and he..." Talking about it now was painful. It hadn't been, but now it was. He had never remembered it quite so vividly.
"Well...was this the first time Voldemort came to power, or the second?"
"Huh?" Now the boy wasn't making any sense. "Harry, this is the first time Voldemort's gained any power..."
"Erm...I think you've been here a lot longer then you think..." The boy paused. "Voldemort was defeated, when I was little. That was fifteen years ago. Then, about two years ago, he came back..."
"Defeated?" James was thoroughly perplexed.
"Well...yes. He was defeated the night the Potters died."
"Um. No." Was the boy drugged?
"Yes." The boy nodded emphatically. "He killed James and Lily Potter, and that was when he was defeated. When...when he tried to kill their son."
"Um...." James wasn't sure what to say. The boy was lying. He was looking down, and flushing. "Harry Potter is dead." The facts were a bit confused.
"No, he isn't."
"Yes, he is." It was an argument that was going nowhere. "Look, I know he's dead. They told me. I...i heard it..." Heard it refraining to the death itself.
"They might have told you, but it isn't true." The boy seemed so adamant. Could it be true? Could Harry have really survived? And...defeated Voldemort? It sounded ridiculous!
"Maybe..." James said, skeptically. "It's a little hard to swallow, though."
"But it's true. Voldemort killed...he killed the Potters, but Lily Potter died to save her son, and that...I guess it left a mark. Because of it, he lost his powers and stuff when he tried to kill Harry."
"Oh." Well, that made sense. "But...then..." But he had been captured by Voldemort. Hadn't he? Or maybe just by Death Eaters... "I don't know. And how do you know?"
"Everyone knows." The boy said, as though James were the daft one.
"Well, I didn't." James was tired of talking. "Are we done with the talking now?"
"You still want to...you know?"
"Yeah." James gave a half shrug. "Might as well."
"You're very calm, all things considered."
"Always have been." James said, blithely. He advanced on the boy, pulling him down, returning to his attentions. "I think it might be some sort of defense mechanism."
"Oh. Look, this isn't a very good position...hold on a bit." The boy shifted, rolling his shoulders as he did so.
"Better?" James asked, easily divesting himself of his own clothing. He turned, to set them on his bed. He yawned, and stretched out over his young, impromptu partner. "What?" He asked, as the boy was now staring at him with rather wide and frightened eyes.
"What...what's that?" The boy's fingers reached up to stroke the back of James' shoulder, and he found himself puzzled.
"This?" He traced where the boy's fingers were. "Oh, it's a tattoo." He had almost forgotten it. He couldn't see it, as it was on his back. "Haven't you ever seen a tattoo before?
"It's just...I..." Harry wasn't making any sense whatsoever anymore.
"What?" There was nothing remarkable or shocking about it. It was simply a stag, leaping over a log, with his old nickname underneath it.
"Who are you?" The boy was now scampering away, covering himself hastily. He was frightened, and very much so.
"I'm not allowed to say kid, sorry." James shrugged. "What is it?" There was no way the boy could recognize the tattoo.
"It's just...my dad...he...please! Who are you?"
"Well..." He was going to die anyway, meaning the boy. What could it hurt? And since he was under the impression that he was dead... "Remember we got into that little argument earlier?" The boy nodded, almost relutantly "Well...I knew all that because I'm James Potter."
Whatever reaction James had been expecting, it hadn't been for the boy to vomit. Or to star at him with horrified eyes that began to water.
"You're...you're alive?"
"Last time I checked...hey kid, are you all right?" James reached out for the boy, who backed away.
"Don't touch me!" He yelled, and then took a deep breath. "Please..."
"Um...okay." James bit his lower lip, wondering what was wrong with the boy. "Why wouldn't I be alive?"
"I told you. You're dead. You died. You can't...you can't be here..."
"Well, I am." James was getting a little fed up. "Sorry if that upsets you, but that's the way it is."
"No...you...oh god..." The boy began retching again, and James moved behind him to pat his back in a comforting manner.
"Are you okay?"
"No!" The boy practically wailed. "Look...please...I need to get dressed..." He was crying. And James was thoroughly confused. He watched the boy put his clothes back on, and decided he may as well put his pants back on. It was rather odd, to be sitting naked with someone who wasn't.
"Better?" James asked, as the boy turned back to him, tears streaming down his face.
"I don't know." He sniffed, his body shuddering. James was at a loss. This was completely new situation to him.
"Look...why don't you tell me what's the matter, okay?"
"Okay." The boy took a deep breath, and looked strait into James' eyes. It was rather unnerving. James found himself wanting to look away, but not able to. "My name is Harry. Harry Potter."
"Oh." James nodded, his mind going comfortable numb. "Well. That would explain the vomiting." James sighed, not sure exactly how to make his mind wrap around this turn of events. "Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Okay." Harry. But...Harry was dead. Of course, apparently so was *he*. None of this made any sense.
"You seem very calm about this."
"Well, after being locked in a room for....by the looks of you, fourteen or so years, tortured, raped, force to do the above to others, you get sort of immune to shock. Though this is probably as close to it as I'll ever get." His son. His....he had almost slept with his son. Oddly enough, that didn't bother him all that much.
"I'm...I'm sorry, this is a little too much for me."
"Yeah, yeah I think it would be." James let out a deep breath. "All right...this...this is a good thing."
"How?"
"Well, for starters neither one of us is actually dead." That, to James, was a big plus. "And then there's the fact that we didn't *actually* have sex. That would be worse, wouldn't it?"
"You're not helping much." At least he had stopped crying.
"I'm trying." James stood up, and put his arms around Harry. "Look...this isn't the best situation for something like this."
"Especially considering I'm going to die soon."
"Oh. Yeah." James pulled his son closer, feeling a pain. His mind simply refused to deal with the matter at hand. Harry wasn't dead. Harry was alive, and nearly fully grown. And in his arms, about to die. This called for some quick thinking. "We're going to get out of here, okay?"
"Yeah?" Harry looked up, green eyes bright.
"Yeah." James kissed the top of his head, mind assaulted by memories of his lips beneath his own, his skin... "Look, don't worry about it. I have everything under control."
"But...if you've been here for fifteen years..."
"I never tried to escape okay, I never really wanted to. They had me trained against it. Just stay calm, and we'll get out of this." He pulled away, but found he couldn't. He ran a hand through Harry's hair, and pulled his son close to him again.
"This..." Harry just rested his head on James' shoulder.
"Its okay." James whispered, smoothing Harry's hair. "It's okay..." He kissed he top of Harry's head again, and then tilted his head up to kiss his lips softly.
"What are you doing?"
"Sorry." James gave a small, half smile. "I still think you're beautiful."
"Well, stop it. You're my dad."
"Eh." James shrugged. "But now's not the time for that.."
"There isn't a time for that."
"Says you."
"Says...all sane people!" Harry shook his head, and started laughing. Hysterically so. James debated slapping him, but just waited for him to settle down.
"Out of your system?" James asked, and Harry nodded. "All right. Um...sorry about this, but I need to beat the hell out of you."
"What?"
"For effect." James didn't give Harry a chance to agree, but hit him swiftly in the face. He felt blood under his fingers, and winced when he saw Harry staring wide eyed at him, blood flowing out of his mouth.
"What the hell?"
"I'm sorry..." James wished there was another way, but there really wasn't. He pulled Harry close, hands roaming over his body somewhat lewdly.
"Stop it!"
"Louder." James urged. If Burly or Sweaty thought Harry was being hurt too badly, they'd come in and stop it. James had been warned not to damage him. James grabbed Harry's hair tightly, forcing him to his knees.
"Stop!" Harry screamed, his voice raw with panic. "Please...."
The door was opened, and Burly stepped in. His eyes were narrowed, and he looked rather upset.
"Hey now...what's goin' on in here?"
"Just having some fun." James said, letting go of Harry's hair. The boy crawled away, looking shocked and betrayed.
"Hey! Thought I told you not to rough him up to much..." Burly walked in, to towards Harry. James stood back, and waited until the large guard was all the way in the room. Then he hit him as hard as he could in the back of the neck. Burly crumpled, letting out a small noise in his throat.
"There, see?" James said, offering Harry a hand up.
"What...you..."
"I had to get him in here Harry. Now come on, there's still Sweaty." James grabbed Harry's hand, pulling him to his feet. "I told you I'm going to get you out of here, and I will."
"Okay." Harry nodded, looking suddenly young and frightened. James gave his hand a squeeze, and led him out of the cell.ey'ey'd still have a long way ahead of them, but it looked promising.
"Dad...?" The word was used hesitantly, and James turned, surprised at hearing the familial term so quickly. But...it was nice.
"Yeah?"
"Thanks."
"No problem." James ruffles his son's hair, fingers aching to do so much more. "And if you're really appreciative, you an thank me later."
"Don't push it." Harry warned, and James just grinned. All in all, this was turning out to be a good day.
- 1
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James Potter's Good Day