a foul place is where i love you

Five

From the moment James had first held his son in his arms, he knew that he loved him unconditionally; that he would do everything in his power to keep him safe. It was amazing how much he'd loved such a small, small thing so suddenly, so strongly, when it was barely as long as his forearm. He'd felt the same when his second son had come along, if slightly less freaked out by the fact that the little person in his arms was his child.

But getting used to the idea of being a father for the first time while smack in the middle of a war was ... Absolutely terrifying. Terrifying because it was real. There was no chalking it up to simple new-parent anxiety, no solace in being told that there wasn't a reason to worry so much.

No, James's son, his precious, little Harry, had really been in danger. And that knowledge, that fear, had clung to him day in and day out. He knew Lily had felt the same; hundreds, thousands, had felt the same.

But time had continued forward. Harry had grown, still under the threat, but so far without casualty. Ethan had joined their little family. All was as well as they could ever have hoped for.

Eleven years later, he had sent that vulnerable, little person he'd once held so carefully, now much bigger, off to Hogwarts. That had been nerve-wracking enough.

It had been absolutely devastating when James had been told he wouldn't come back.

And then it had been all sorts of things when, five years later, Harry had come back - in a Death Eater's cloak, with a long list of homicides and other heinous crimes over his head. At sixteen.

And now, a year and another painful stretch of thinking Harry had really died, here he was, facing his son in a cold prison cell. While knowing full well that he was powerless to protect him now.

James gripped Lily's hand tightly from their spot in the shadows, knowing she understood. No words needed to be said. It wasn't like any of them would be comforting enough, anyway.

They watched as Isaac Colbert muttered something to Harry, then strode back to them. "We'll be watching, just in case. And, as a side note, I advise you be careful of what you believe."

James nodded once, swallowing over the lump in his throat, as Colbert left the cell. He'd already prepared himself to do just that, knowing deep down ... deep down, there couldn't be any hope for Harry. No matter how much everything in him wanted that to be false, wanted to save him, he knew this was it.

But then he took a long look at his son, and that love, that feeling he'd felt seventeen years ago when he'd first laid eyes on him ... it crept back to the surface.

Harry was tied to a chair in the middle of the cell, shrouded by the yellow light glowing above him, while the rest of the cell remained dark. Every muscle in his body, leaner than James remembered, was coiled tight. His face - was that a scar on his forehead? - was paled, exhausted, and coated in as much dirt and grime as the rest of him. His bright green eyes reflected wariness as he tried to make out James and Lily from their shadowed safe-haven.

James wished, more than anything, that he could run to him and hold him close. Tell him everything would be okay, and that he was so, so sorry for not protecting him. Not six years ago, or the five he'd been gone, or this past year.

But that wasn't reality. Harry had done awful, awful things. He'd dug this hole himself, and James was no longer in the position to pull him out of it. Not again.

Tightening his grip on Lily's hand, willing it to not tremble, James stepped forward into the light. He stayed silent, partially because he couldn't speak and partially because he didn't know what to say, as Harry looked him over with wide eyes.