We'll be okay
By Beezle'sgotthemusic
James hunched over and pulled his jacket closer to him hoping that the eggs inside his coat wouldn't smash. He was really starting to regret his decision not to disapparate right out of the store despite the fact that it was crawling with muggles. The slight storm his mother had warned him about was turning into a raging blizzard and getting in trouble with the law was becoming more preferable by the minute.
With a sigh of relief James found an alleyway and trudged into it. There wasn't near as much snow in the alley and only an occasional gust would whip snowflakes around the corner where they would pelt his face. It would be the perfect place to disapparate. James fumbled around in his coat pockets for his wand with numb fingers and finally laying grasp to it. He raised it above his head all but prepared to leave when something caught his eye.
James shoved his wand back into his pocket and snatched the dry paper from the top of the garbage can. It undoubtedly had a water repellent charm on it. He hadn't read the Daily Prophet in a week but it didn't take much to guess what the headline would read: Global Hero Leaves Hole in His Wake. As James clutched the Newspaper in his hand it all came rushing back to him. Of course, his mind seemed to say, his father was dead and that's why he needed the eggs.
He, not caring to read the article he had been there after all, forced the paper into his pocket while simultaneously pulling out his wand. He arrived at the burrow within a matter of seconds.
Wiping the remnant snow of his jacket in the entranceway James listened to the din roar, the loud yet somber talk of people that occurs at a funeral reception. He set the eggs on the table. His mother, who hadn't noticed him previously, turned around and gave him a weak smile that wouldn't convince anyone she was doing well. He scrutinized her. Her mouth was down-turned, eyes tired, puffy and utterly heartbreaking. This was all to be expected. Her hair, which had long since lost its red hue and turned grey, was in disarray. No, it was to be expected that Ginny Weasley would not be okay.
"Would you like to help me with the Deviled eggs dear?" James nodded, he couldn't refuse his mother.
"Course mum," He answered. Ginny smiled, James knew he sounded exactly as he had when he was younger that combination of love and exasperation that came with doing chores. He really didn't want to make deviled eggs.
"How was Diagon Alley?" she asked filling a pot with water and placing it on the stove. Within a few seconds it was boiling.
James shrugged off his coat and placed it on a chair he handed the eggs to his mum. He wasn't going to tell her he hadn't the heart to go to Diagon Alley. He wasn't going to tell her that he went to a Muggle shop instead, to stay away from condolences. The Newspaper plainly showed, however, there was no getting away from it.
His mother summoned a bit of salt and she dumped it int eh water and placed each egg in one by one. "It's a blizzard out there," James said. "No one was out."
His mother nodded and glanced at the eggs impatiently. "No reporters?"
"I'm fine mum."
She nodded again not loking at him. "Where are the grandkids?" she asked.
James smiled, "I'm sure they're running around somewhere." It was a bit funny really that after the war there had been, at all times, four generations within the household.
Ginny sighed and hurriedly levitated the eggs out of the water into the sink. She glanced anxiously at the eggs.
"You have to wait unit they're cooled mum."
She was looking at them with such an intensity that James placed a worried hand on her shoulder. She abruptly reached out and froze them. "What have I done! There ruined!" She desperately was trying to save the eggs but it was no use.
"Mum!"
She turned to look at him and was shuddering. "Mum," James said he wrapped her into a hug and she began sobbing. It was the second time he'd ever seen his mother cry.
"I just can't believe he's gone."
James turned off the light and slowly made his way upstairs. It was almost eerily quiet. Two of his children had moved out of the house and his youngest, 17, was almost done with school as well. The thought scared him.
He padded into his room and quietly shut the door hoping not to disturb his wife. He crawled under the covers and sighed looking up at the ceiling. It had been a hard day.
"Are you awake?" Veelma whispered and suddenly he was reminded of forty years ago, he felt 18 again.
"Yeah," James said turning to face his wife. Her eyes still gleamed all these years later. He stroked her face and sighed.
"If it's any consolation they got the facts right."
James snorted. "They didn't use your mothers articles from the Triwizard Tournament did they?"
"No, I made sure of it."
"And How's that?"
"I chewed their arses."
James laughed, "They can't be too pleased with you."
"They haven't been pleased with me for forty years."
"Thank you," James whispered.
Veelma sighed, "It was my pleasure."
"I'm worried about Mum."
"She'll be okay," Veelma said. "We'll all be okay."
"I'm going to miss him so much."
"We all will."
Unbeknown to them, all around the country in secret people were toasting to "Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived!"
A/N: It was just one of those stories I had to write down.