Summary: Harry and Albus Severus have a much needed conversation one night.
A/N: After reading Deathly Hallows, I could not resist this fic. The whole epilouge just set so much up for
another generation of fics, and I'm happy to say this is one of them.
Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter, the brilliant Jo Rowling does:)
Whispers In The Dark
By: Tainted Visions
He was standing in a Graveyard, he knew that for certain. Tombstones stood around him like the stars in the night, and the ghostly light from the moon shined down on him, his face glowing in the white light. His heart beating forcefully in his chest, he stared around. He had been here before. He knew what was going to happen even before it did.
"How nice of you to join me, Harry."
The voice behind him made Harry jump. Turning swiftly, he gazed into the scarlet red eyes of Voldemort, as he stared not even ten feet from Harry, his lipless mouth curved into a smirk, his wand pointing at Harry's face. At that moment, Harry's scar burst open with pain, and Harry feel to his knees, as he heard Voldemort give an evil cackle that radiated off of Harry's ears like drums, before he saw a flash of green light, and felt himself falling, falling...
He screamed, just as his eyes snapped open.
The darkness of the graveyard was all around him, like an embracing sickness, and for a moment, he wondered if he was dead; then he realized he was lying on a soft surface, not the hard, cold ground of the graveyard, and it took him a moment to realize that he was lying on his bed, at home. Wiping sweat from his face, and looking around his room, he breathed a sigh of relief. He was safe.
"Dad?"
Somewhat startled by the sudden voice, Harry looked up and saw his five-year-old son standing in the doorway.
"Al," Whispered Harry, his heart rate slowing down. "What are you doing up?"
"Couldn't sleep," His son whispered, walking slowly into the room, and as the light from the hall shined down on his face, Harry saw that Albus's face was pale, white. Smiling in spite of himself, Harry seated himself into a sitting-position on the bed, and patted a spot right beside him, motioning for Albus to join him. Albus smiled slightly, then took the place his father had idicated.
"I...I had a bad dream."
Harry saw Albus's face redden in embarassment as he stared at the floor.
"That's nothing to be ashamed of," Said Harry, putting a hand on his son's shoulder, "I just had one myself."
"What about?"
He had been expecting this, and it didn't occur to him for a moment to try and lie his way out of it, or else push it off as something else. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Him coming back to finish me off."
"You-Know-Who?"
"No need to call him that, Al. I call him Voldemort, and I would like for you to say it, too. Remember what Godmum Hermione said?'Fear of a name...'"
" ... 'Only increases fear of the thing itself,'" Al supplied, "I know."
There was a moment's silence before Al finally looked up, and his eyes met Harry's, Green so like his. "Do you always dream about him?"
"Sometimes," Harry said truthfully, "I guess after all of these years, it still feels like he's haunting me, although I know he's gone. It just feels like one of these days I'm going to get the news that he's ressurected himself, and then I'll have to do this all over again."
Al, who had been following every word of his father's with rapt attention, shifted himself more comfortably, never removing his eyes off of Harry, who looked away from the intensity of his gaze. "Were you scared?"
Harry finally looked back at him, and saw that Albus's face had regained it's color. Looking away again, Harry nodded.
"I just feel lucky I can talk to you, dad, when mum's not here.. I'm glad you're here for me, I'm glad I still have you, and mum. You didn't..."
"No, I didn't," agreed Harry, "I'll always be here to talk to you, Al. Always. Even when I do die, I'll always be here to talk to you. I promise."
"Did your mum and dad talk to you like we are now...?"
"No. I couldn't speak to them, like you and I are now, Al, but I could feel them. I could feel them with me, wherever I went, whenever I needed them, when I was scared, when I was happy. I even got to speak to them once or twice, but I never got to actually know them. But I know they loved me."
"But how can you speak to the dead? Does that mean I can talk to you when you're dead?"
"You can never bring back the dead, Al," Harry said seriously, "No magic can do that. I talked to them in spirit, and because I used an object that I'll never tell you about, but I did get to speak to them. But that made no difference. It didn't matter. They were speaking to me all along, despite using those things."
"What do you mean?"
"They were inside my heart, my soul," Harry explained, "You think the ones that love us ever really leave us? They don't. They're always inside you, helping you, caring for you. My Godfather Sirius taught me that, and don't ever think that, when I'm gone, I'm never there, because I am. I've seen death, been there, and I know now that they're with you all along."
Albus continued to stare at him, and then suddenly his arms were wrapped around his father's neck in a tight embrace. Not removing them, he whispered, "Don't ever leave me, dad."
Harry felt tear tracks slide down his cheeks, and holding Albus to him, he took a moment before saying, "I won't. I'll never leave you."
Albus finally let go, and sat himself down in his father's lap, still smiling up at him.
"I love you, Dad."
" I love you, too, Al. Don't ever forget that."
"I won't." Albus answered, but he bowed his head after a moment, and then whispered, "James says you love him more, though."
"Don't you let him get to you, Al," Harry said firmly, him now looking intensely into his son's eyes, "I love you, James, and Lily the same, and I'll never stop loving any of you. And when you finally have kids of your own, you'll understand that no matter what your kids do, you never stop loving them. That was Voldemort's biggest mistake, Al: He never loved. He could never comprehend it, understand it; I could, and that made me be able to defeat him. I'm now giving you that love, because I know that you're going to be a great person, and don't let James, or anyone else tell you otherwise!"
Albus contemplated this, then looked back down at the floor again and said, "Do you miss your parents?"
Somewhat derailed by the sudden question, Harry blinked before replying. "Yeah. A lot. Even if I can't remember them much."
"Was it hard..? Growing up without them...? With him wanting to kill you...?"
"Sort of," Harry answered, "I mean, I never had the golden life everyone always thought I had. I grew up with Muggles, who hated magic, and hated me, and I never knew what, or who, I was until Hagrid told me. I never knew my parents died, not in a car crash, but because of Voldemort, and I never knew how or why I got the scar, until I found out that Voldemort tried to kill me when I was a baby. As far as living with him trying to kill me every other day," and Harry was pleased to see he had gotten Albus to laugh at that, "I just hoped for the best, hoped I could make it through. I had survived once, hadn't I? Although, I do admit, I never thought I'd live long enough to have kids, or even past seventeen."
"I'm sure it feels good, huh?" Albus asked.
"Very," Harry smiled, "For a long time, I grieved. I lost so many people along the way, but now, I feel more alive than I ever had, even when I first went to Hogwarts. It feels like... like I've been asleep for a really long time, and now I'm wide awake, like I've never really had a chance at this, free of evil, but I do, and it's a good feeling. I didn't have to come back when I died, but I chose to; I loved your mother too much, and knew that there was so much I would be leaving behind, even though it was so peaceful where I was, so warm, so happy --- there was no pain, and I knew by coming back, there would be."
"But I also knew that there was happiness, and the chance to finally end it," Harry continued, "and I was determined to take that risk. I had less to fear from returning there then he did, Al. He was afraid of death, I saw what he would become, a baby creature, in constant pain, because of how evil he had become and how much he had ripped his soul. Never pity the dead, Al, pity the living, and the ones who live without love. People who exist without loving, causing pain just because they can, they will be the ones so suffer."
"That's what my dream was about..." Albus said suddenly, his eyes staring at the floor again, "Dying.." And he swallowed before adding, "So you're not afraid of death?"
"No," Harry admitted, "because I've seen it, experienced it, seen what those without love, like Voldemort, will become. Those who do love have less to fear from returning then those don't, and I'm happy to say that when I do die, I will truly have died in peace."
"How come?"
"Because I know the sacrifices made, the people who died, who kept me alive since I was a baby. My mother sacrificed herself for me, which I, and I'm sure Ginny, would do for you, Lily or James. I'll have died in peace knowing that together we brought about the end of someone who would have caused mayhem for hundreds, maybe thousands, of years, and I'll have lived life to it's fullest potental. Love calms the hardest, darkest storms; Love is the greatest power of all, and is the only thing that can stop all the wrong in the world. So when I'm gone, do as I did, Al ---- Fight for the right side, fight for love, because it's the only thing that will save civilization."
Albus nodded, and smiled. "I'm tired, now."
"Good." Harry smiled in return, "I bored you to tiredness."
"No, you didn't!" Albus said indignantly, his cheeks reddening, "I love hearing you tell me this stuff, because you're right. You make me less afraid. I know I can sleep now. Now I know there are worse things in life than dying...you have no idea how happy I am that you're my father."
And Albus hugged him.
As the tears fell again down Harry's cheeks, he gave a stiff nod, and said, "Thank you, Al. You have no idea what you, and your words, mean to me."
And he embraced his son, simply letting his tears flow, his heart swelling with love, as his son's heart beat against his. It was the greatest feeling in the world, holding his son in his arms, not knowing how happy he made him, not knowing he calmed the storms, that he destroyed the scarlet Red eyes, as Voldemort gave a scream of fury, that he took his hand and flew him away from the sea of darkness that was the graveyard, and drowned out the voices that were the whispers in the dark.
