After the War

Chapter 15

This is a shorter chapter, but I really wanted to include it, so here we go:

 His eyes furrowed, Harry sat hunched on his bed, staring at the blob of yarn that refused for the fifth time to turn into anything useful. He had followed all of Hermione's instructions, but it simply would not cooperate. By his seventh attempt, he had managed to create a roughly rectangular strip of crochet, and having already grown far too frustrated by using his wand, he decided to add little tassels on the ends by hand. After wrapping it as best he could in paper, he collapsed onto his bed and instantly fell asleep.

"Well of course you're scared, Harry!" Sirius whispered in the darkness of the kitchen at Grimmauld Place, careful not to awake the others. "In fact, I'm glad you're scared."

"What-- Why?"

"It means you're human. Voldemort is growing stronger and we're on the edge of a war where, like it or not, you will probably be forced to play a part. How could you not be scared?"

"But, I'm a Gryffindor! I'm supposed to be brave!"

"You're incredibly brave. You know what's coming and you're still here, ready to fight instead of running or hiding. There's a difference between courage and reckless stupidity, Harry-- a line that your father walked very carefully." 

Harry looked down at his hands and paused. "Was he scared too?" he whispered.

"We all were. James, Lily, Remus, me, all of us. We were just kids fighting in a war that was much bigger than ourselves, not unlike you," he finished kindly. "Now, I insist that you try to go back to bed. At least get some rest, okay?" Harry nodded and followed Sirius out of the kitchen door towards the stairs.

Suddenly a green light flashed across the scene and Sirius fell in slow motion through the doorway, vanishing from sight with a faint look of surprise still frozen on his features.

Harry's eyes snapped open and he shook his head to clear himself of the vivid images swirling in his thoughts. He took deep and calming breaths to slow his thumping heart and looked across the room to see Ron and Hermione just starting to stir in the morning's pale glow.

"Mornin'," Ron yawned in his general direction. He had an impressive bedhead that could be rivaled only by Harry's. Harry grunted in return, his eyes downcast, and they groggily began their morning routine.

"Happy Father's Day, Dad!" Ron said cheerfully. Mr. Weasley looked up from his mug of tea with a large grin and wrapped an arm around his youngest son who gave him a kiss on the cheek. Ron dropped a handmade card in front of him before sitting in between him and Hermione. Hermione wished him a happy father's day too and forced a smile to her lips, but her happy facade slipped the moment Arthur looked away. She clung to her warm mug and took a shaky breath while staring into the cup's depths, desperately trying not to think of her own father.

Harry didn't notice Hermione's odd behavior because he was busy acting strangely himself. He was sitting across from Mr. Weasley, fidgeting in his seat as George and Ginny both joined them at the table after dropping their own cards in front of their Dad. Mrs. Weasley found herself an open seat and started to spread jam across her toast before passing the jar along the table. When they had all eaten and Ginny stood to begin washing her plate, Harry sucked in his breath and decided to just do it. Get it over with and see what happens.

"Er...," he said awkwardly, "Happy Father's Day, Mr. Weasley." Arthur looked up at him warmly, having just set down his fork.

"Why thank you, Harry," he said smiling and radiating joy.