A Time And Place To Grow

Chapter 6: Gaurdianship

Harry looked down at the field from high atop his broomstick with the wind blowing through his hair. He spied someone far down on the ground, waving at him. Without a second thought, Harry plunged down towards the ground as fast as he could. Usually, he could slow down at the last moment, but now he was going too fast. The ground was speeding up to him.

"Umph!" Harry hit the ground and rolled a few times before ending in a sprawl of limbs and broomstick. "Ow," he groaned sitting.

"What was that?" he heard a chuckle behind him. "You've got to stop being so clumsy, son, or you'll break your neck. Your mother already thinks Quidditch is too dangerous."

Harry felt strong hands grip him and pull him to his feet. Harry turned around and found himself looking into the grinning face of his father, James. The man's dark hair was blowing in the wind, and Harry couldn't help but grin back,

knowing his own hair looked just as messy. "Dad, what are you doing here? You've come to school in the middle of the semester?"

"Just checking up on you," James draped an arm over Harry's shoulders and pulled his son roughly against his chest in a playful manner. "Seeing that you're my son, I expect you to be up to all sorts of trouble."

"You sound like Snape," Harry grimaced teasingly.

James gave him a light smack upside the head. "Don't insult your father!"

Harry grinned again. They walked in silence for a few seconds, enjoying the warm sunlight. Harry began to feel stiff from his fall and rubbed his arm.

"What's wrong?" James was concerned.

"I'm kind of achy from practice," Harry shrugged. "Nothing bad - just sore, I guess." They had reached one of the practice tents, and James pulled him inside.

"All right, son, sit down, and let me see your arms," James helped Harry take off his arm guards.

As Harry sat down, James began massaging his son's arm, stretching it from the shoulder until Harry sighed with relief and comfort as the stiffness eased away. Then James moved on to the other arm, commenting,

"I'm not sure I liked the way you went after the Snitch in the last match. You need to stop getting distracted by the other players, and pay attention to catching the Snitch. It's the other players' job to keep anything from hitting you. Nice save on that dive, though. You had the whole stadium holding their breath."

Harry tried to reply, but he couldn't seem to speak. The tent was getting very dark, and Harry no longer was sitting in a chair, but lying on some kind of cot. James was continuing to stretch his muscles, moving on to Harry's knees and ankles, pulling and twisting. It felt so good, but Harry couldn't open his eyes or muster the will to move. In a tired hazy, he lay there as James pushed his knees to one side and stretched out his back before pulling his limbs straight again. Lastly, James pulled the covers up over him, and Harry rolled on his side, very warm and comfortable.

"Thanks, Dad," he mumbled before falling asleep again.

Snape froze at the end of the bed and looked back at the slumbering brat. What had Potter just called him? The boy must really be out of it lost in some pathetic dream where his father was fawning all over him. -

The boy had not seemed to wake up at all while Snape had stretched his muscles, and that was the way Snape wanted it. He didn't really want to touch James Potter's son in the first place, but he couldn't imagine listening to the boy's whining about stiff muscles tomorrow. Yes, Potter was dreaming because the boy wouldn't dare call him that wretched name awake, would he?