Miles to Go Before I Sleep: Chapter 3
Title: Miles to Go Before I Sleep
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: K+
Summary: Harry could only watch as his world came crashing down around him. This wasn't a battle he could fight. There were no villains, no monsters; these things just happen. Marriages fail, people grow apart, and eventually we all die. But even old and crippled Harry wasn't going down without a fight.
Miles to Go Before I Sleep
Chapter 3
It was unseasonably hot for a late autumn day and all Harry could do was glare hatefully at the sun from where he sat. The screams of the children as they played were beginning to give him a headache and the running commentary from Kreacher didn't help things any. The House-elf seemed very put out by the day's festivities and kept to the shadows, muttering about how inappropriate it was for "Miss Cissy" to run around in jeans. The day had barely begun and Harry was already tired. He should probably rest, but he wanted to stay for Lydia's birthday. The entire Weasley clan would be making an appearance and he refused to let them see how weak he really was.
Every year it seemed like more and more Weasleys just appeared out of thin air or sprung from the ground like spring flowers. Seeing so many young faces helped ease the sting that Harry felt at those who had passed on. Molly and Arthur and Percy had been dead for nearly twenty years now; their deaths were an old wound, nicely scarred over and rarely thought about. Percy's ex-wife Audrey hadn't bothered to appear for any Weasley family get-together since their divorce, much less now after his death, but their daughters were there. Lucy was chattering to Julia while her boy Henry clutched at her legs, begging incoherently for a sweet. Molly, whom the other Weasleys had always jokingly referred to as Junior to differentiate her from the Molly, was helping Lily in the kitchen. Bill had also passed on a few years ago, not long after the death of his daughter Dominique. It was always the hardest when someone so young died and the Weasleys had lost three who had perished before the age of 30: Dominique, Roxanne, and, of course, Fred.
It seemed as though George always had the worst luck when it came to losing the people he loved: first his twin and then his daughter. He was sitting in the shade with his wife and son; his smile was as wide and infectious as it had always been, but there was something different about his eyes. They were old and tired and wounded. Roxanne's death had been a horrible accident. She had been a professional Quidditch player, already famous even before stepping out onto the field as the niece of the great Ginny Potter, who had retired from Quidditch permanently just a few years before. It had been her first season when a Bludger broke the handle off one of her teammate's brooms. He spun wildly out of control and crashed into Roxanne, the broken handle piercing her side. She was dead before they had even gotten her safely to the ground. In a way it was better than what happened to Dominique because at least with Roxanne they had a body to bury. Dominique had gone to France to visit her grandparents and went out one night with a group of friends. She never returned. Her friends insisted that she had called it an early night and left the group around 10, but nothing else was heard from her. Bill had clung to the hope that maybe she had just run away for some reason, that she was still alive somewhere. It took him a long time to accept what had most likely happened.
And then there was Ginny.
It wasn't all tragedy, though. The good times had far outweighed the bad. The tragedies had blindsided them, but they would keep on going because that was what they needed to do. So life went.
Harry couldn't turn his head yet, but he could see Ron and Hermione walk into the garden from the corner of his eye. His cheek twitched, finally blooming into a lop-sided smile as they came up to stand next to him, grinning and with tears in their eyes. Harry had always found it odd that books and newspapers continued to publish the same old photographs of their teenage years, instead of how they looked now: old and wrinkled and overweight. He had met quite a few young people who were surprised to learn that he was still alive; they had never seen any picture of him older than the age of twenty-five, after all. It was like the world wanted to imagine them as immortal children, like Peter Pan. It was funny; when he looked into his friends' face he didn't see those terrified teenagers in their eyes staring back out at him. He just saw Ron and Hermione, as they were.
They came up beside him, summoning a pair of chairs so they could sit down. "Typical," Ron moaned good-naturedly, his bald head shining like a crown in the sun. "Here you are just lazing about while everyone else has to mind the kids."
Harry's hand twitched in an attempt to give his old friend the two-finger salute. He didn't quite succeed, but Ron picked up what he meant anyway and laughed.
Hermione leaned over to squeeze his arm as she settled into her seat. She opened her mouth to say something, but all she could get out was a strangled sigh and a self-deprecating laugh. She leaned over and kissed his cheek and Harry could feel the pain blooming in his chest as he felt the tears rolling down her face.
"Dad?"
Hermione pulled away then, allowing Harry to see his youngest son for the first time in almost six months. Albus Severus stood a few feet away with a dark young man behind him, gamely trying to keep the fear and horror from his face but the stricken look in his eyes made Harry's heart go out. It only took a moment for Albus to suddenly lurch forward and wrap his hands awkwardly around his father. Harry wished he could raise his arms to hug him back.
Albus pulled away, nodding to his aunt and uncle as he straightened up. "I'm sorry I couldn't get here sooner, but I've made arrangements with the embassy so I'll be able to stay as long as you'll need me. James said you were healing, so that's good, yeah?"
Albus nodded again, as though just remembering that Harry couldn't reply. Then he gave a little jolt and gestured for his companion to step forward beside him. "This is Francesco Conti," Albus explained as the man gave a little wave at him. He was handsome, with dark brown skin and a strong jaw, and looked to be the same age as Harry's son. "He's a, um, friend of mine."
Francesco smiled and said in a thick accent, "It is a pleasure to meet you."
"We're going to go catch up with everyone, but we'll be back, okay?" Albus said it like he thought Harry was going to go somewhere. He wanted to tell his son to stop worrying, but even if he wasn't paralyzed he wouldn't have bothered to say it. He knew that it wouldn't do any good.
Albus and Francesco walked away towards Teddy and Victoire. The two were standing so close together that their shoulders brushed against each other with every step, their fingers touching.
Harry's eyebrows knitted together as he watched Albus with his companion.
Ron whistled lowly. "Well, I guess now we know why Al's never had himself a girlfriend. OW! Merlin, 'Mione, I didn't mean it in a bad way!"
Harry's cheek twitched again, pulling down in a half-frown before falling slack once more. Harry didn't care if Albus preferred men; he would continue to support him as he had always done. His children knew that. He and Ginny had both told them again and again that they would always love them no matter what. So why had Albus never told him? Why keep it a secret? It disturbed Harry to think that Albus felt the need to hide this from him. Lately, it seemed like he was failing all of his children in some way. They were all keeping secrets from him: James, Lily, and now Al. What had gone wrong?
Suddenly a sharp cry pierced the air. Harry watched as everyone stood up, their heads turning towards the source, and he desperately wished he could see what was going on. Then James walked into his field of vision, carrying a struggling Lydia as Lily trailed behind them, her hands on her stomach, trying desperately to soothe her daughter. "He said he would be here!" She howled, pushing against her uncle with her might and lashing out with her feet. James valiantly tried to hold on, but Lydia wasn't a little kid anymore that he could pick up and throw over his shoulder like he used to. "He's always lying! I hate him! I hope he never comes home!"
Matt started crying then, adding more fuel to Lydia's tirade. Harry's fingers jerked closed in a loose fist as he thought about his son-in-law's absence. Harry had spent most of his childhood wanting a family, and here Ethan was throwing his away. It enraged him. Lily was his daughter, these were his grandchildren; they deserved better than that.
Harry wasn't the only one to think so.
It was obvious that Kreacher had developed a fondness for Lydia. Something about the little girl reminded him of Narcissa Malfoy and although it displeased Harry it wasn't completely unexpected. Kreacher had confused him for Orion Black on occasion, after all, and with Lydia's long blonde hair he supposed it was only natural for Kreacher to associate her with Narcissa. As James tried to drag the howling girl inside, a sudden blast of magic sent him sprawling to the ground, allowing Lydia to slip free and run to her mother. "KEEP YOUR FILTHY BLOOD TRAITOR HANDS OFF OF HER!" Kreacher screamed as he rapidly Apparated in front of James. James looked up at the House-elf from where he laid but before his son could scramble to his feet he was blasted backwards with another powerful wave of magic.
"Merlin, I always said he was nutter!" Ron hissed as he ran towards the attack, his wand out.
Hermione was with him every step of the way. "Careful, Ron, he's sick! He doesn't understand that what he is doing is wrong."
They left Harry there to watch helplessly as Kreacher assaulted his oldest boy.
Albus and Victoire were already trying to subdue the crazed House-elf by the time Ron and Hermione jumped into the fray. Kreacher dodged their spells easily enough for such an old, pitiful creature and Harry was reminded of just how powerful House-elfs really were. "BLOOD TRAITORS!" He spat out above the rising din of crying children. "I HOPE THE DARK LORD KILLS YOU ALL!"
Then Kreacher's eyes fell upon Lydia, who was sobbing in her mother's side, her arms wrapped losely around her pregnant stomach. The sight of her made him recoil in horror and cower away from the wizards and witches he had just been attacking, allowing James to finally scramble up and pull out his wand. Before any of the others could catch him, Kreacher Apparated away with a flick of his fingers, leaving the Weasleys to stand there in awkward silence.
"He's not coming back here," Lily hissed, breaking the spell that had fallen over the party. "I don't care who takes him, but he is not coming back here." She then herded the still-crying Lydia and Matt inside.
"That House-elf is insane," James muttered as he rubbed his aching shoulder, Julia stroking his arm worryingly. "He shouldn't be around people."
"We'll take care of him for you," Ron said to Harry, before turning to Hermione. "So, where do you think he's gone? Back to the Burrow?"
"More probably Grimmauld Place," she answered.
"Let's go then before he runs out into the street and starts terrifying the Muggles."
The party ended after that. Albus came over to sit beside his father as the guests started to file out, quiet and subdued by what they had witnessed. "I will go and see if Lily needs any help," Francesco offered and he quickly slipped inside the house, leaving Harry alone with his son.
Albus looked at him, his mouth parted slightly as though he wanted to say something. But in the end all he did was lean over and hug him; a proper hug this time, tight and aching and no longer afraid that Harry would break.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: K+
Summary: Harry could only watch as his world came crashing down around him. This wasn't a battle he could fight. There were no villains, no monsters; these things just happen. Marriages fail, people grow apart, and eventually we all die. But even old and crippled Harry wasn't going down without a fight.
Miles to Go Before I Sleep
Chapter 3
It was unseasonably hot for a late autumn day and all Harry could do was glare hatefully at the sun from where he sat. The screams of the children as they played were beginning to give him a headache and the running commentary from Kreacher didn't help things any. The House-elf seemed very put out by the day's festivities and kept to the shadows, muttering about how inappropriate it was for "Miss Cissy" to run around in jeans. The day had barely begun and Harry was already tired. He should probably rest, but he wanted to stay for Lydia's birthday. The entire Weasley clan would be making an appearance and he refused to let them see how weak he really was.
Every year it seemed like more and more Weasleys just appeared out of thin air or sprung from the ground like spring flowers. Seeing so many young faces helped ease the sting that Harry felt at those who had passed on. Molly and Arthur and Percy had been dead for nearly twenty years now; their deaths were an old wound, nicely scarred over and rarely thought about. Percy's ex-wife Audrey hadn't bothered to appear for any Weasley family get-together since their divorce, much less now after his death, but their daughters were there. Lucy was chattering to Julia while her boy Henry clutched at her legs, begging incoherently for a sweet. Molly, whom the other Weasleys had always jokingly referred to as Junior to differentiate her from the Molly, was helping Lily in the kitchen. Bill had also passed on a few years ago, not long after the death of his daughter Dominique. It was always the hardest when someone so young died and the Weasleys had lost three who had perished before the age of 30: Dominique, Roxanne, and, of course, Fred.
It seemed as though George always had the worst luck when it came to losing the people he loved: first his twin and then his daughter. He was sitting in the shade with his wife and son; his smile was as wide and infectious as it had always been, but there was something different about his eyes. They were old and tired and wounded. Roxanne's death had been a horrible accident. She had been a professional Quidditch player, already famous even before stepping out onto the field as the niece of the great Ginny Potter, who had retired from Quidditch permanently just a few years before. It had been her first season when a Bludger broke the handle off one of her teammate's brooms. He spun wildly out of control and crashed into Roxanne, the broken handle piercing her side. She was dead before they had even gotten her safely to the ground. In a way it was better than what happened to Dominique because at least with Roxanne they had a body to bury. Dominique had gone to France to visit her grandparents and went out one night with a group of friends. She never returned. Her friends insisted that she had called it an early night and left the group around 10, but nothing else was heard from her. Bill had clung to the hope that maybe she had just run away for some reason, that she was still alive somewhere. It took him a long time to accept what had most likely happened.
And then there was Ginny.
It wasn't all tragedy, though. The good times had far outweighed the bad. The tragedies had blindsided them, but they would keep on going because that was what they needed to do. So life went.
Harry couldn't turn his head yet, but he could see Ron and Hermione walk into the garden from the corner of his eye. His cheek twitched, finally blooming into a lop-sided smile as they came up to stand next to him, grinning and with tears in their eyes. Harry had always found it odd that books and newspapers continued to publish the same old photographs of their teenage years, instead of how they looked now: old and wrinkled and overweight. He had met quite a few young people who were surprised to learn that he was still alive; they had never seen any picture of him older than the age of twenty-five, after all. It was like the world wanted to imagine them as immortal children, like Peter Pan. It was funny; when he looked into his friends' face he didn't see those terrified teenagers in their eyes staring back out at him. He just saw Ron and Hermione, as they were.
They came up beside him, summoning a pair of chairs so they could sit down. "Typical," Ron moaned good-naturedly, his bald head shining like a crown in the sun. "Here you are just lazing about while everyone else has to mind the kids."
Harry's hand twitched in an attempt to give his old friend the two-finger salute. He didn't quite succeed, but Ron picked up what he meant anyway and laughed.
Hermione leaned over to squeeze his arm as she settled into her seat. She opened her mouth to say something, but all she could get out was a strangled sigh and a self-deprecating laugh. She leaned over and kissed his cheek and Harry could feel the pain blooming in his chest as he felt the tears rolling down her face.
"Dad?"
Hermione pulled away then, allowing Harry to see his youngest son for the first time in almost six months. Albus Severus stood a few feet away with a dark young man behind him, gamely trying to keep the fear and horror from his face but the stricken look in his eyes made Harry's heart go out. It only took a moment for Albus to suddenly lurch forward and wrap his hands awkwardly around his father. Harry wished he could raise his arms to hug him back.
Albus pulled away, nodding to his aunt and uncle as he straightened up. "I'm sorry I couldn't get here sooner, but I've made arrangements with the embassy so I'll be able to stay as long as you'll need me. James said you were healing, so that's good, yeah?"
Albus nodded again, as though just remembering that Harry couldn't reply. Then he gave a little jolt and gestured for his companion to step forward beside him. "This is Francesco Conti," Albus explained as the man gave a little wave at him. He was handsome, with dark brown skin and a strong jaw, and looked to be the same age as Harry's son. "He's a, um, friend of mine."
Francesco smiled and said in a thick accent, "It is a pleasure to meet you."
"We're going to go catch up with everyone, but we'll be back, okay?" Albus said it like he thought Harry was going to go somewhere. He wanted to tell his son to stop worrying, but even if he wasn't paralyzed he wouldn't have bothered to say it. He knew that it wouldn't do any good.
Albus and Francesco walked away towards Teddy and Victoire. The two were standing so close together that their shoulders brushed against each other with every step, their fingers touching.
Harry's eyebrows knitted together as he watched Albus with his companion.
Ron whistled lowly. "Well, I guess now we know why Al's never had himself a girlfriend. OW! Merlin, 'Mione, I didn't mean it in a bad way!"
Harry's cheek twitched again, pulling down in a half-frown before falling slack once more. Harry didn't care if Albus preferred men; he would continue to support him as he had always done. His children knew that. He and Ginny had both told them again and again that they would always love them no matter what. So why had Albus never told him? Why keep it a secret? It disturbed Harry to think that Albus felt the need to hide this from him. Lately, it seemed like he was failing all of his children in some way. They were all keeping secrets from him: James, Lily, and now Al. What had gone wrong?
Suddenly a sharp cry pierced the air. Harry watched as everyone stood up, their heads turning towards the source, and he desperately wished he could see what was going on. Then James walked into his field of vision, carrying a struggling Lydia as Lily trailed behind them, her hands on her stomach, trying desperately to soothe her daughter. "He said he would be here!" She howled, pushing against her uncle with her might and lashing out with her feet. James valiantly tried to hold on, but Lydia wasn't a little kid anymore that he could pick up and throw over his shoulder like he used to. "He's always lying! I hate him! I hope he never comes home!"
Matt started crying then, adding more fuel to Lydia's tirade. Harry's fingers jerked closed in a loose fist as he thought about his son-in-law's absence. Harry had spent most of his childhood wanting a family, and here Ethan was throwing his away. It enraged him. Lily was his daughter, these were his grandchildren; they deserved better than that.
Harry wasn't the only one to think so.
It was obvious that Kreacher had developed a fondness for Lydia. Something about the little girl reminded him of Narcissa Malfoy and although it displeased Harry it wasn't completely unexpected. Kreacher had confused him for Orion Black on occasion, after all, and with Lydia's long blonde hair he supposed it was only natural for Kreacher to associate her with Narcissa. As James tried to drag the howling girl inside, a sudden blast of magic sent him sprawling to the ground, allowing Lydia to slip free and run to her mother. "KEEP YOUR FILTHY BLOOD TRAITOR HANDS OFF OF HER!" Kreacher screamed as he rapidly Apparated in front of James. James looked up at the House-elf from where he laid but before his son could scramble to his feet he was blasted backwards with another powerful wave of magic.
"Merlin, I always said he was nutter!" Ron hissed as he ran towards the attack, his wand out.
Hermione was with him every step of the way. "Careful, Ron, he's sick! He doesn't understand that what he is doing is wrong."
They left Harry there to watch helplessly as Kreacher assaulted his oldest boy.
Albus and Victoire were already trying to subdue the crazed House-elf by the time Ron and Hermione jumped into the fray. Kreacher dodged their spells easily enough for such an old, pitiful creature and Harry was reminded of just how powerful House-elfs really were. "BLOOD TRAITORS!" He spat out above the rising din of crying children. "I HOPE THE DARK LORD KILLS YOU ALL!"
Then Kreacher's eyes fell upon Lydia, who was sobbing in her mother's side, her arms wrapped losely around her pregnant stomach. The sight of her made him recoil in horror and cower away from the wizards and witches he had just been attacking, allowing James to finally scramble up and pull out his wand. Before any of the others could catch him, Kreacher Apparated away with a flick of his fingers, leaving the Weasleys to stand there in awkward silence.
"He's not coming back here," Lily hissed, breaking the spell that had fallen over the party. "I don't care who takes him, but he is not coming back here." She then herded the still-crying Lydia and Matt inside.
"That House-elf is insane," James muttered as he rubbed his aching shoulder, Julia stroking his arm worryingly. "He shouldn't be around people."
"We'll take care of him for you," Ron said to Harry, before turning to Hermione. "So, where do you think he's gone? Back to the Burrow?"
"More probably Grimmauld Place," she answered.
"Let's go then before he runs out into the street and starts terrifying the Muggles."
The party ended after that. Albus came over to sit beside his father as the guests started to file out, quiet and subdued by what they had witnessed. "I will go and see if Lily needs any help," Francesco offered and he quickly slipped inside the house, leaving Harry alone with his son.
Albus looked at him, his mouth parted slightly as though he wanted to say something. But in the end all he did was lean over and hug him; a proper hug this time, tight and aching and no longer afraid that Harry would break.