"Not forest green like hers, but chocolate brown like hers"

Chapter 5

The door swung open with a force that echoed through the room, and Harry barged in, his heart pounding with a mixture of urgency and anxiety. "Dad, dad, dad!" he urgently called out, his voice slicing through the stillness of the room.

James was sprawled on his bed, snoring peacefully, a potions book covering his face. Unfazed by his son's frantic entrance, he continued to enjoy his slumber until Harry decided to take matters into his own hands. "Dad, wake up!" Harry shook him vigorously with the kind of fervor one might reserve for waking someone during a life-or-death situation.

The abrupt awakening brought a string of curses from James as he squinted, attempting to make sense of the situation. "Bloody fucking hell, Harry, what's the matter?" he grumbled, his eyes struggling to focus on his son's face as he was rudely awakened from his peaceful nap.

"Dad, you have to hide Mom's stuff. Hermione is coming here, and I don't want her to have a nervous breakdown when she sees your wedding photos or pictures of her pregnancy" Harry spoke rapidly, his words tumbling over each other.

With an exasperated groan, James rubbed his eyes and tried to sit up. "Can't this wait?" he mumbled, but Harry was already on a mission. He started grabbing framed photos and stuffing them into drawers without a second thought.

"Be a tad more careful, won't you?" he protested, his disheveled appearance indicating the peaceful nap that had been disrupted. He attempted to straighten his rumpled uniform and tame his unruly hair, but Harry's urgency left little room for such considerations.

"Dad, she's practically at the doorstep! Give me a hand, for the love of Merlin!" Harry exclaimed, darting around the room like a tornado, erasing any trace that indicated Hermione and James were a married couple.

James sighed, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, trying in vain to tame his unruly hair. "Fine, fine, but make it quick. I was having the most wonderful dream about your mother,"

Harry cringed, his face contorted in a mixture of disbelief and mild disgust. "Gross, Dad, I didn't need to know that. She's still my best friend, you know," he protested, a hint of embarrassment coloring his cheeks.

James, unfazed by his son's discomfort, simply shrugged. "She's my wife. I'm allowed to have as many dreams as I please about your mother," he retorted, a wicked gleam in his eye.

Harry rolled his eyes, a mixture of embarrassment and amusement on his face. "Just keep them to yourself, please." he groaned, shaking his head. "Seeing you in a crop top scared me for life. I don't need you to add to the trauma."

James burst into laughter, his deep chuckles reverberating through the room. He couldn't resist the opportunity to tease his son further, ruffling Harry's hair, who protested with a cry and an exaggerated pout. "Hey, it's practically in my job description to embarrass you. It's what dads do," he declared with a grin, fully embracing the role of the mischievous parent.

"Dad, calling yourself 'World's sluttiest dad' is not okay. Not in the '70s, not in the '90s either. Who the fuck gifted you that?

"Your mom did"

The color drained from Harry's face, "I didn't need to know that," he whispered, his voice barely audible, his expression deeply disturbed. "I'm going to need a psychologist and bleach. A lot of bleach to erase that image from my mind."

"Harry, are you in there?" Hermione's voice rang out from the other side of the door, bringing an abrupt end to the surreal moment.

Harry shot a panicked glance at his dad, who had a sly grin on his face, clearly reveling in the impending chaos. "Uh, yeah, just a sec!" he stammered, his voice cracking as he hurriedly tried to compose himself. "Hey," he hastily swung the door open, greeting his best friend slightly breathless. Hermione's raised eyebrow betrayed her curiosity as she surveyed the scene.