Hearing his father voice his greatest fears, had him suddenly deflating, bending over as an almost acute pain seized his chest. "Oh gods," he moaned, his breath so painful he could barely stomach to breathe. "I can't handle it, Dad. I can't stomach him dying. Even the thought-"
He closed his eyes, tears falling onto his cheeks as the thought he'd fought off so hard for the last few weeks finally lodged into his mind, impossible to push away for even a second.
"I still see the boy. When I look at him. I still see the five-year-old who begged me to take him flying. Or the smile on his face when he got his first wand at eleven. Or the pride when he made the Quidditch team."
"I'm his father, I was supposed to keep him safe. I was supposed to protect him and now he's dying because of who I am, because of what I did when I was younger than he is today."
"How do I live with that? How do I live with failing to protect the ones who matters the most?" And it was an honest question, because he could not imagine how to go on without his son, and how to be strong for Ginny, Al and Lily. And yet he knew he had to be. He of all people were not allowed to fall apart, and yet that was he was doing. Failing all of them at once.