potterofpresage | harry:
Harry’s son was too ambitious for his own good. He had known that even before Albus was sorted into Slytherin. But there were much worse traits to possess. Hermione was ambitious. But she was also kind-hearted. Her ambition would have never gotten the best of her giving heart. Not that Harry was worried about ambition getting the best of his middle child. Albus had been raised differently than other Slytherins. But his Aunt Hermione would have understood Harry’s half-drunk, philosophical ramblings. After everything he, her, and Ron had been through, she would have understood that striving for a state of just okay would have been more than acceptable.
“But if I use that for my next speech,” Harry started with a laugh, “then it wouldn’t be very good private, father-son advice, now would it?” Harry imagined himself standing behind the black mahogany, Ministry podium, addressing the wizarding public, and repeating everything he had just said to Albus. He would be fired quicker than a Golden Snitch evading the grasp of even the most-skilled Seeker. Then again, being fired didn’t sound half bad to Harry, now that he had a little bit of Firewhiskey in his system.
“I ran into her outside the hall earlier,” Harry replied, speaking of his wife. “It may have been the first time we’d been alone since this whole bloody mess began.” Harry had been working late nights the past couple of days, and even when he managed to make it home, he didn’t sleep. He usually sat at the kitchen table, staring off into space. Thinking of nothing but Hermione. “Don’t worry about your mother, Al. She’s strong. Stronger than all of us. But yes, I’m worried about the others too. I wish your Uncle Ron would say more than three words to me. But I know he has plenty on his mind.”
The fact that his father genuinely thought that striving to be okay was good father-son advice, as he put it, was astounding to Albus. Was it him? Did his father tell different things to his siblings? Or did he genuinely believe that being okay was good enough? “Dad, the advice was so okay that I insist you use it in your new speech,” Albus pressed. “It would go to waste if you only told me this. Really. I would be disappointed if you didn’t use it.” Then maybe the person he ran the speech by could tell him it was bad advice, instead of Albus having to. He didn’t think his father would hear him, anyway, since he wasn’t listening. Of course he was worried about his mother, and being told he shouldn’t have to didn’t in any way ease his worries. Being told not to worry when his aunt was just murdered was like being told to eat something after someone was poisoned from eating just that. “I know she’s strong,” Albus replied, shrugging his shoulders a little. “Doesn’t mean I don’t have to worry.” The two weren’t mutually exclusive. They shouldn’t be. “Hugo and Rose, too. They’re quiet. There’s no right thing to say to them, either.” It didn’t mean Albus hadn’t tried, but it did mean he found it difficult. But this was always going to be harder on them, and he knew that too. “I should go find mom,” he decided. “I thought I just saw her leave the hall. I’ll catch up with you later, dad.” One flashed smile in his father’s direction and Albus left towards the exit of the Great Hall.
