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Don't Cry, Daddy | ||||||
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Category: Quidditch Challemge (2014-4), Quidditch Challenge (2014-4) Characters:Harry/Ginny, Other Genres: Drama, Romance Warnings: Death, Negative Alcohol Use Story is Complete Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 10 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. Hitcount: Story Total: 9079; Chapter Total: 3883 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. |
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"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. |
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