Don't Cry, Daddy by pleurocoelus
Summary: Two years after his wife died, still-grieving widower Harry Potter only cares about two things: his son and his Quiddtich career. That changes when he runs into an old friend.
Rating: PG-13
Categories: Quidditch Challemge (2014-4), Quidditch Challenge (2014-4)
Characters: None
Genres: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: A Brand New Mummy
Published: 2014.11.15
Updated: 2014.11.15
Index
Chapter 1: Chapter 1
Chapter 2: Chapter 2
Chapter 1: Chapter 1
Author's Notes:
The title is a reference to the song of the same title performed by Elvis Presley.
I really don't know what's up with me. Madcap comedy is my preference, but I keep doing dramatic mushy stuff.
Obviously, this story deals with grief and recovery. Though there are common themes, everyone grieves in their own way and at their own pace. I have tried to be respectful.
"I don't care, Potter!" yelled the voice of Harry Potter's manager. "You weaseled your way out of the last one and you're not going to get away with that again."
"Philbert, my son was sick!" Harry pleaded. "There was no way I was going to leave him alone just to go to some stupid dinner."
"You have in-laws. You have friends. You’re loaded. You could have gotten him a private wing at St. Mungo's." Philbert Deverill sighed, then took a deep breath. "Look, Harry, I get it. You hate the spotlight. However, you picked the wrong career to avoid fame. Besides, it's in your contract. You have to go. You blow it off this time, the owners might not want to renew - or worse. Puddlemere likes having you, Harry, but you don't want a breach-of-contract suit."
"No I don't," Harry replied, "but I also don't want the drunk fangirls who are going to be there. Oliver told me all about them."
"I get it, Harry, I really do. Look, you only need to be there a couple of hours: eat a free meal, shake a few hands, pose for a few pictures, answer a few questions from the press. That's it. You'll be sitting with your teammates for the dinner anyway. The meal and speeches will take up at least half of the time you're there. Do it for your career, do it for me, do it for the team," he pleaded.
Harry stared at his manager for a long moment, then relented. "Fine. I'll do it - at least the meal. If some drunken fangirl starts flirting with me, I'm gone!"
Harry turned and started walking out the door. He stopped when he heard his name.
"Harry. If it's not time yet, it will be soon. You need to get on with your life. Parvati wouldn't want you to live like this. It's not healthy."
Harry Potter turned around with fire in his eyes. "I'll catch your snitches. I'll attend your stupid dinners. Until it affects my level of play or otherwise affects the terms of my contract, stay out of my personal life," he hissed. "It's not your business. You're not my mother. In case you hadn't noticed, I don't have one of those, either!"
Harry slammed the door and was gone.
Hours later, Harry Potter sat on the side of his bed that had once belonged to his late wife. He heard a noise and turned to see his son standing in the doorway.
James came over and looked at the photo that Harry was holding. It was the portrait of Parvati in her wedding dress. She kept smiling at the camera and saying: "I love you, Harry."
"Mummy was pretty," James said to his father.
"Yes, she was. You, however, need to be in bed."
James looked up at his dad with tears in his brown eyes. "I think I'm forgetting Mum."
Harry's breath caught in his throat. It had been just over two years since Parvati's death, a loss that had caused him to leave his chosen career as an Auror. Harry had years of memories of Parvati, but James was only three when his mother had died.
"How about I tell you a story about your Mum and me if you get back in bed," Harry said to his son.
James hugged his father, and then grabbed his hand and began pulling him towards his bedroom.
Once they had James settled back in his bed, Harry began to tell him a story: "In our fourth year at Hogwarts, they held a Yule Ball, which is a very fancy party where everyone wears very nice robes. There was a meal, then everyone would dance. I didn't know your mum very well at that point, even though she was in Gryffindor like I was. In fact, I had planned to ask a different girl altogether, but someone else asked her to go with him to the Ball before I could. It was after that that I asked your mum to do to the Ball with me, but I'm afraid I wasn't very nice to her at first."
Harry sat between Ron and Parvati. Parvati sighed for what felt like the thousandth time, despite the fact that they had been sitting for only a minute or so. For some reason, Harry turned away from his study of Cho and Cedric and looked at the girl he had asked to the ball only as a last resort. Suddenly, he was struck by an epiphany.
"Parvati," he said to his date, "I'm sorry. I'm being a rubbish date, aren't I?"
Parvati sighed yet again before replying with a slight smile. "Finally realized that, have you?"
"Look, I'm sorry. If you want to go dance with someone else, I'll understand."
"You're doing better than Mr. Clueless, here is doing with my sister," Parvati replied.
"You can say that again," interjected Padma.
"Huh?" said Ron. "Were we talking about Krum?"
"Yes Ron," said Harry, "you can go back to your glaring now."
Ron shrugged and resumed giving evil looks toward his former Quidditch hero.
"Look Harry," Parvati began, "I came with you because I wanted to come with you. I'd like to dance some more, but if you just want to walk around and talk that's fine too."
Harry weighed his options. He could sit here and probably get to see the inevitable argument between his two best friends, or he could go and be the date that Parvati deserved.
"Parvati, I'm really not a good dancer, but I think I can manage, if you want."
He stood and took her hand and led her to the dance floor.
In the end, they danced a bit and talked a bit and Harry found that he got along well with Parvati Patil. He was pleasantly surprised to find that there was actual depth beneath the shallow, gossipy exterior she presented to the world.
The two were confused by an argument they heard between Professors Snape and Karkaroff and shocked to hear that Hagrid was a half-giant and Madame Maxime was likely one too.
Altogether, the couple had a pleasant night and Harry found himself thinking about Cho Chang not one bit.
Harry finished telling his son the story. Little James had fallen asleep not long after Harry had begun telling it, but Harry had felt compelled to finish telling it. Perhaps he could retell the story to James tomorrow, perhaps with some judicious editing.
As Harry went to bed, he glanced at the photo of his late wife that he kept on her night table. He saw her lips move in the magical photograph: "I love you, Harry." This time, the wedding portrait didn't make him as sad. It seemed as though Parvati was telling him that it was time to get on with his life.
Maybe Philbert was right, after all.
Harry Potter sat at the bar, fuming. The overly-friendly witch next to him seemed oblivious to his anger. She also seemed rather drunk.
"Philbert was at least somewhat right," Harry thought. "The meal was delicious and the speakers were at least tolerable. I wonder if it would kill them to find an actual comedian instead of the pathetic imitation of one who has been speaking at this dinner for no one knows how many years."
Harry chuckled. It was the wrong thing to do as the witch next to him had apparently just told a joke to him and she took it as encouragement to place her arm around him.
Harry tensed. She didn't notice. She was drunk.
"I'm doing this for the team," Harry repeated over and over in his mind. "Just a bit longer. I can put up with this gibbering fangirl just a bit longer. Stupid Holyhead Harpies. Stupid chasers. This one apparently thinks I'm a quaffle."
Harry's btiter musings were interrupted by a voice behind him: "Valmai, he's not interested. I'm sorry about that. She's not normally like this, unless she's had a few too many."
Harry turned around at the somewhat-familiar voice and saw a face he had not seen since Parvati's funeral. It was Ginny Weasley.
Harry and Ginny stared at each other for a moment that seemed to take forever, but before they could speak they were interrupted by Valmai.
"I'm not drunk," she protested a bit too loudly. I've only had a couple of drinks.
"Sure," Harry muttered. "The first one and the last one with a few in between."
Ginny laughed at Harry's comment, but her teammate misunderstood and took offense.
"I am not trunk, Weasley."
"No," Ginny replied slowly, "You're not trunk, you're drunk. If you were a trunk, it would be full of liquor bottles, though."
Valmai Morgan stared at her fellow Harpies chaser in great confusion, but Harry was trying his best not to laugh at the situation.
"See, I'm not drunk," the intoxicated chaser slurred. "Look, I can walk perfikkly fine."
Valmai slid off her barstool intending to show her teammate that she was still in control of herself. The attempt failed and she slid to the floor with a thud.
"That’s it, Valmai," Ginny lectured, seeming a bit like her mum. "I'm taking you home. You're not safe to walk, much less apparate.
Suddenly, Harry saw his escape route from the party. "I'll help you get her home safely," he announced.
Ginny looked as though she were about to protest that she could do it just fine herself, thank you very much, but she stopped when she saw the pleading look on Harry's face.
"Sure, Harry," she said with a cheerful smile. "Let's get her over to the exit. They have an 'Official Ministry of Magic Portkey Enchanter' over there for just this type of situation."
Harry and Ginny each took the inebriated witch by an arm and began to lead her toward their destination. The whole time there, she staggered and would have fallen, but for the steady arms that guided her. She also spend the time mumbling about how sober she really was and that she could hold her liquor.
When they arrived at the exit, they could see that the 'Official Ministry of Magic Portkey Enchanter' was doing a rather brisk business in creating portkeys for those who would otherwise splinch themselves or mispronounce their floo destination. By the time the queue had advanced enough for it to be their turn, their cargo was even more incoherent than she had been.
They had the portkey made for Valmai's flat and let it carry them to their destination. They experienced the tug and before they knew it, they were in the kitchen of a moderately-sized flat.
"Hey, I'm home," Valmai slurred. "How did I get home?"
Suddenly, Valmai's face took on a horrible expression. Harry grabbed Ginny, pulled her back and cast a shield in front of them. Valmai's vomit hit the shield and splattered to the tile floor.
"Thanks, Harry," Ginny exclaimed. "That would have been nasty."
Harry gestured at the pile of sick on the floor. "It still is nasty, just not as much."
The two old friends began cleaning both the room and the still-inebriated witch who was not so far inebriated as to not be horrified by her actions."
"I'm shorry, Ginny. I'm glad I dint rooin your robesh."
"That’s all right, Valmai. Let me get you to bed and you can sleep it off."
Ginny Weasley escorted her teammate to the bedroom while Harry stayed in the kitchen. After a couple of minutes, she returned.
"Well, she's in bed and snoring like Hagrid. I don't envy her the headache she'll have tomorrow, but I couldn't find any hangover potion."
Harry and Ginny stared at each other awkwardly for a moment before Harry broke the silence. "Anyway, thanks for getting me out of there. I was this close to making a scene when you showed up. She really doesn't realize she is like that when she's drunk?"
"Any time, Harry," Ginny replied. "Yes, by the way, she really doesn't notice how much of a flirt she becomes when she's drunk. We try to keep an eye on her so no one takes advantage of the situation. Fortunately, she doesn't get drunk often."
"Well, you didn't just rescue her. Oliver had warned me about the drunk fangirls. I just didn't realize that my fellow Quidditch players would be among them. I assumed it would be rich old witches who had paid some exorbitant sum to hobnob with us."
"Ugh," Ginny exclaimed. "I get the good we do with these charity dinner parties, but they still do draw in the weirdoes. Last year, this creepy wizard who had to be Dumbledore’s age kept flirting with me." She shuddered.
Whatever Harry was about to say was interrupted by his stomach rumbling.
"Looks like your dinner has expired already," Ginny said with a laugh. "I know a Muggle place near here that has a really good menu."
"Sounds good," Harry said. "Are you sure you can eat after dealing with Valmai's mess?"
"You know us Weasleys. Nothing comes between a Weasley and a good meal."
The two laughed and left the flat, making sure to secure the door behind them.
Chapter 2: Chapter 2
Author's Notes: According to the list of Marathi baby names I used, Palin means protecting and Dhimahi means wisdom.
Ginny had been telling the truth. This little Muggle eatery had amazing food. Under their formal robes, they both had been wearing Muggle clothes, so it wasn't hard to fit in with the clientele after removing and shrinking the robes.
"So, how'd you find out about this place? Did Valmai tell you?" Harry asked.
"Yes," Ginny replied after swallowing her bite. She brought the girls here once and now we meet here from time to time."
"And they still allow you in here," Harry joked, "a rowdy bunch of girls like you?"
"I'll have you know that we can behave ourselves with perfect decorum, when we want to do so."
"Just not on the Quidditch pitch?" Harry asked.
"Certainly not against Puddlemere," she replied with mock offense. "Not with the way your team stole Wilda Griffiths from us."
"Hey, that was before I joined the team," Harry replied in his defence. "Still, I wouldn't expect any less than the best from you."
Ginny blushed and the two fell into a somewhat awkward silence as neither had anything to say after that.
Harry saved the day by remembering something he had been thinking about earlier. "So, what did you think about that speaker? Was he supposed to be funny or did I completely misunderstand him?"
"No," Ginny said with a sigh, "you didn't misunderstand him. Gwenog says that he's been speaking at these dinners for ages. Nobody knows why they keep getting him. So far, the leading theories among the Harpies are that either he makes a large donation to get to speak or he is related to one or more of the organizers."
Harry looked thoughtful. "I'll go with option number two. Never underestimate the power of nepotism."
"You're probably right on that," Ginny said with a laugh. "I've never seen or heard of him anywhere else but these dinners. If he were a rich wizard out to flaunt it, you'd see him acting more like Malfoy: 'Look at me, I have albino peacocks. They're ugly and annoying, but they're expensive.'"
Harry laughed. He had forgotten just how funny Ginny could be.
"Well, I hope his donations are large," Harry said, "because his sense of humour sure isn’t."
"I know. At the Harpies table, we just sit back and make fun of him."
"I'll have to try that. I'm not sure Oliver would go for that, though. It's worth a try."
"It's the only way we get through these dinners. So why weren’t you there last year?"
"My son was sick. I just stayed home with him. I didn't ask, I just skived off. I heard it from our manager, Philbert, the next day. I got a howler - which did not help with a sick child in the house. They had to threaten me with a breach-of-contract suit if I didn't go this year."
"Well, I'm glad you went," Ginny said with a smile. "Otherwise, Valmai would have ruined my new robes with her little display."
Harry nodded his head in an imitation of a courtly bow. "'Tis nothing milady. A gentleman is always prepared to save a fair maiden from the foul Vomit Viper."
"It's not the first snake you rescued me from," Ginny said quietly.
"I'm glad I did. So, I haven't seen you since, you know, the funeral and before that, at the battle."
"I went back for my seventh year, with Hermione, while you, Ron, and Neville went through Auror training. After that, I played reserve for half a season before getting bumped up to the main team."
"Fine bunch of Aurors we were. Now Ron's working for George, Neville's teaching, and I'm playing Quidditch. At least we got some Death Eaters and Snatchers arrested and tried. I don't feel so bad about playing Quidditch knowing that they're incarcerated. I just couldn't, you know. I just couldn't do it anymore after Parvati died. I tried, but I wasn’t being careful enough. I nearly got Neville killed in a raid that went pear-shaped. He forgave me, but I couldn't forgive myself.
"They offered me extended bereavement leave, but I knew my career in Law Enforcement was over. Aurors who aren't careful end up dead and I just couldn't work a desk job, so I went back to Quidditch. I had no idea where or how to do it, so I just owled Oliver. Of course Puddlemere dropped everything racing to recruit me."
"Gwenog told me she would have loved to have you on the team, but you have some extra equipment you don't need. Her words, not mine."
Harry laughed a little too loudly, drawing the attention of the other diners. He put his hands over his mouth in mock embarrassment. Ginny laughed, drawing more attention. "Sorry about that," she said to the gawkers.
"You know," Harry said after everyone had stopped looking, "maybe Gwenog should be the speaker. Oliver shouldn't. We get the same speech he gave the team back at Hogwarts. At least he plays Keeper better than he works as a speaker."
"Don't Muggles have people whose full-time jobs are to give funny speeches?" Ginny asked.
"Sure, funny speeches, serious speeches, there are plenty of Muggles who do that full-time, even more who do it part-time. There's an idea. Maybe we could get a Muggle comedian. We’d have to obliviate him afterwards, but it would be better than what we had tonight."
"Maybe there's a squib who does comedy," Ginny suggested. "Maybe there are wizard comedians in some other country we could hire rather than that sorry fellow."
"You should ask George. How's he doing, by the way? I haven't seen him in a while."
"He’s doing better since Ron left the Auror corps for the shop. I don't know that he'll ever be completely over Fred's death, but at least he's living now."
Ginny's words hit him. Was that what he was doing, not living? He played Quidditch, but that was more work than fun. He spent plenty of time with James. He saw his in-laws regularly, and Ron and Hermione on occasion, but no one else. Maybe it was time to start living again.
Palin and Dhimahi Patil sat playing with their grandson when their son-in-law arrived to take him home. He was three hours late.
"I'm sorry I'm so late. I went out with friends afterwards and we lost track of time," he told them as they came over to greet him.
"Did these Quidditch friends of yours have long red hair, by any chance?" Dhimahi asked him.
"I - erm - I mean - how did - what?" Harry stammered.
"Harry, if you wish to have a date with a beautiful woman, you don't need our permission," Palin replied. Harry blushed.
"When you didn't come when we expected you, we flooed your friend Oliver. He told us that you left with Ron Weasley's sister Ginny," Dhimahi added.
"Yes. Ginny's teammate Valmai had a few too many to drink and we were taking her home. Ginny and I got a bite to eat afterwards and lost track of time talking. That's all."
"Harry," Palin replied, "it is not disrespectful to our daughter's memory for you to begin dating, if that is what you want to do. We will never push you either way."
Dhimahi hugged Harry. "It is good to see you having fun though. The way you've been closing yourself off, it isn't healthy. Everyone grieves on their own timetable, but what you were doing wasn't fair to yourself or to James."
"I know it hasn't been fair to him, but I didn't know what else to do. After the way Parvati died, alone in her shop, killed by a poorly-charmed piece of equipment, it just didn’t seem right to go out and enjoy myself."
"You've had a respectful mourning period," Dhimahi replied. "As Palin told you, we will never push you either way. Your friends, on the other hand, may do otherwise."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked.
"Padma has said that Ron and Hermione have expressed their concerns to her. I think Hermione might want to play matchmaker."
"You won't tell her about this, will you? The last thing I need is Hermione on my case."
"Ginny might tell her, Harry," Dhimahi answered. "She is her sister-in-law after all."
"That's true. I don't know if I'm ready to see anyone now or not," Harry replied.
"You look as though you had a good time with young Miss Weasley," suggested Palin. "You looked happier when you came in than I've seen you in a long time.
Harry thought for a moment. "I suppose I am happier than I have been in a while."
That night as Harry was tucking James into bed, his son asked him a question.
"Daddy, are you looking to find me a new Mum?"
"James, why do you ask?"
"I heard you talking with Granddad and Grandmum about it. It's okay. I'll always love Mum, but if you want to find a new one that would be nice. I think Mummy would like that, as long as you still got to tell me stories about Mum."
"I'll tell you stories about Mum as long as you want me to. Do you want me to tell you one now?" Harry said to change the subject.
"Uh-huh," replied James. "Tell me the one about how you hid in the woods from the bad wizards."
Harry laughed. The sanitized, child-friendly version of the Horcrux hunt would seem like a grand adventure to a boy. In reality, it was miserable, but necessary.
"All right, James. I'll tell that one.
"Before Voldemort and his bad wizards had taken over the country, I knew I might have to hide from them and find some way to help defeat them. I had planned to go by myself, but your Mum and your Aunt Padma and my friends Ron and Hermione decided that I needed help. They were right..."
A year and a half later:
Harry looked around the table set up in the backyard of The Burrow. He had started dating Ginny not long after that ill-fated Quidditch charity dinner. When their relationship had begun to be serious, Harry had tried to get the Patils and the Weasleys to know each other better. Of course, Molly Weasley would never turn down a chance to cook for guests, so they had gathered from time to time at The Burrow. Today was one such occasion, but it was also something more.
Both Arthur and Palin turned to Harry as one and nodded to him, as though they had cordinated it. "Come to think of it," Harry thought, "they probably did."
Harry rose and cleared his throat. Conversation ceased and everyone turned to look at him.
"You know, a year and a half ago, I was stuck going to this charity dinner. In the process, one of Ginny's teammates had a little too much celebration and needed to go home, so I volunteered to help Ginny get her home, just to get out of there a bit early.
"After we got her safely home, my stomach gurgled..."
"It did more than just gurgle, Potter," interrupted Ginny with a grin.
"Yes, it roared like that hat Luna used to wear at the Quidditch games." The entire group laughed. Luna's lion hat had become the stuff of legends.
Harry continued: "Anyway, we went for a bite to eat and we started talking and I lost all track of time and was rather late picking up my son from his grandparents' house."
Harry had slowly walked over to Ginny's chair while he was talking and there wasn't an adult present who didn't know where this little speech was heading.
"Since that day, I've come to realize just how incredible a witch Ginny Weasley is. She is warm and friendly and has a teriffic sense of humour."
"Taught her everything she knows," George interrupted.
"Yes, I'm sure you did. She is, however, much better looking than you. A fact for which I am exceedingly grateful."
Everyone laughed at that little dig. George accepted it graciously.
"Most importantly," Harry continued, "she loves my son and he loves her back. So, I must ask a very important question."
Harry dropped to one knee and produced a ring from a pocket.
"Ginevra Molly Weasley, would you do James and I the honor of joining our family?"
"Yes," she replied with a blush. "Yes, I will."
She stood, then pulled Harry up and delivered him a rather searing kiss.