Harry J. Potter (head_auror) wrote in lockewood, @ 2011-05-22 21:51:00 |
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Entry tags: | harry potter, remus lupin |
Who: Harry and Remus
Where: The Whizzer
When: Sunday, May 22nd, 2pm
What: Harry needs a bit of advice
Status/Rating: Complete / Low
There seemed to be too much and not enough going on at once lately; on the one hand, both of his parents were here, as were two of his children - in their twenties - there were an untold number of Death Eaters, and Gellert Grindelwald and Voldemort around town, both of whom probably had targets on the back of his head. That was a lot to deal with. Besides which, with James gone - the older James who had planned on organising a friendly Quidditch match - Harry supposed it fell to him to pick up the reins. There was also the Watch he was meant to help organise. But none of it was quite like being back home, with his wife, and his infant sons, running the Auror department, preparing to go undercover. In Lockewood, it was hectic, but it wasn't the normal kind, it wasn't the right sort of hectic and it made him feel... antsy.
He had mostly been keeping to himself for a few days. Hermione was probably in the library. Neville... who knew what Neville got up to, but there was a greenhouse in the village, so if Harry had to venture a guess, it would be that Neville was in there. His parents were living their lives - sort of.
Finally, around noon, it dawned on Harry just what was wrong with the whole scenario of this village outside of time, this village that couldn't exist; because surely, a place where he could get to know his parents and get to know his children decades early, was a good place regardless of everything else that happened here. But what was wrong was that here, Harry wasn't needed. Back home, Ginny waited up for him after work. The boys needed him to be their father, to change their diapers and fight the tiny knit booties onto their tiny kicking feet. The department needed him to be run. Here.. he was just one man outside of time, without a sense of direction. He didn't even feel like himself. He had never tried so hard to make a good impression one anyone else, had never tried to impress anyone; he had always been too busy with his own life, with all the crap that had been dumped on his shoulders to give two thoughts to what anyone else thought of him, as long as they didn't get in his way. But here? His father was here. His father. His father was his hero! What if he didn't think him impressive at all? What if he didn't-
What if he didn't love him?
It wouldn't be the end of the world, Harry told himself. He hadn't had a father before, so it wouldn't really change his worldview overmuch. And James was... a teenager. What did it matter what a teenager thought of him?
Besides 'way too much', Harry didn't have an answer. It was stupid, he knew, to want James to be his father. James was a kid, he was younger than Harry's own children in this place, so why should it matter? But it did. Harry had never had his father before and he wanted him now. He would be heartbroken, absolutely devastated if James decided he couldn't be. Oh, he'd show a brave face, show everyone that he didn't need James Potter's love and approval to be himself. But the fact of the matter was that the possibility that he might get neither weighed on Harry so heavily that he wasn't able to think about anything else. Lily's love, he knew he had. Lily had already had him in her time. James...
It was well past noon before Harry discovered he'd been walking in a straight line, literally, for hours. Arrived in front of The Whizzer for what must have been at the very least the twentieth time, Harry walked in. He didn't feel like cooking for himself, so someone else, whoever the chef was, could do it for him.
Zach Smith, prat extraordinaire, made a stupid quip about Harry's appearance, looking quite pleased at the possibility that he might get to kick Harry out for not wearing a jacket and tie when he started coughing. His eyes became very round, and Harry had to notice that Zach look... scared. Harry was led to a table, a menu dropped there and Zach ran off, probably to the loo. He didn't know what had come over Smith, but Harry decided not to care, and glanced at the menu. He didn't want anything, but figured that if a waiter appeared, he'd point at something and get whatever it was he was pointing at. There were worst ways to come to decisions.