"What do you have against reading?" Jamie asked with a laugh. "Didn't Remus and Sirius buy you a batch of books for Christmas one year? The old Defence books that sit on the shelf in your office at home. You said they'd given them to you once." They were the only books his father had really kept in his office, that Jamie recalled. He supposed it was the sentiment, maybe. Jamie had skimmed them once, but he was more often going to be perusing the books in the library while hiding out where his parents were unlikely to look. "I suppose, once we get everything figured out with the castle, arranging papers for wizards moving forward can be your next task."
That was a smile Jamie knew and hated. It was the most frequent version of his dad's smile that Jamie had seen in the last several years and he regretted asking as soon as it appeared. But, he also didn't want to stop his dad from talking, either. "So, now you have a mental block against routines?" It made sense, he supposed. Hadn't he worked to make sure he was always there for his siblings, avoided all alcohol, and turned away from the aurors so as to avoid the more bitter parts of his own upbringing? Why wouldn't his father do the same with his far more desperate ones? It was then his turn to snort softly. "I know that, Dad. And I've worked damned hard to make sure I was as good as I am. It's what was expected, after all. And the only expectations I never tried to meet were the Aurors and professional Quidditch. Doesn't change the fact that until I came here the only context for my life that mattered was my place in this family." In some ways, that was still true. Jamie didn't doubt that he and his siblings would be a lot less involved in things if their last name wasn't 'Potter'.
"Well, no one's perfect. Not even The Chosen One," Jamie teased. "But, are they really so different now than the men you knew? I mean, I look at you and I see pieces of the man who raised me. Draco even moreso. Padma and Parvati are very much the same women I knew, just younger and without having mellowed as much. Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione, too. And you can still have something akin to the relationships you had before. Okay, Sirius is younger than you and Remus only a bit older. But, I know the man I watched reassure everyone else it'd be okay from his own sickbed sounded an awful lot like the stories you used to tell Ted about his father." Rolling his eyes, he snagged a last bite of cake and then waved the final piece toward his dad. "As long as you understand that if I think you need my opinion, I'll tell you. It's not stupid. Or, if it is, I'm being just as stupid because I'm a good year or so older than you and the minute you walk in you're still just Dad."
He shrugged. "I didn't have to fake an injury. I didn't even take the class. Unlike Aunt Hermione, I wasn't going to try and homework myself to death taking every class offered. I'm not saying he shouldn't be. I'm saying that, well, it's not the time, as you said, and I appreciate that you're not making him feel worse about it right now." Jamie raised an eyebrow. "Potential enemy? Isn't that a bit much? We haven't had any idea who could be next before now, either. We just got lucky that no one who's been brought back has felt particularly murderous. I don't mean we have to approach them like our next best friends...if one has those. But, how well would it have gone over if Fenrir had been approached as a potential enemy instead of with Savannah's compassion?"