Harry didn't even flinch as a heavy hand settled upon his shoulder. Instead, he continued staring blankly at his drink. "Please don't hit me, we're in public," he muttered under his breath before lifting the glass and gulping down the remainder.
"Well, I haven't ruled it out, but I figured we'd start by talking."
Harry nearly choked on his drink as he spun around on the barstool "M-Mr. Weasley? W-what are you doing here? Wait, don't answer that…I know why you're here."
"And yet you seem so surprised to see me," Arthur replied, a slightly forced smile on his face.
"To be honest, I was expecting Ron…" or possibly George…or Bill…or some combination of Ginny's brothers…
"Yes, well, I won't pretend Ron didn't want to come…and he might've hit you."
"Yeah, well, I won't pretend I don't deserve it."
"But luckily," Arthur continued as if Harry hadn't spoken, "I happened to be visiting Ron and Hermione when Ginny floo'd, near hysterics, looking for her husband, who left at some point this afternoon, and still hadn't returned, despite it being several hours past dinner time."
Harry grimaced and ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, but Arthur merely motioned to the bartender to get his attention. "Firewhiskey, please," he said brightly.
The barman raised an eyebrow. "It's a brand name," Harry said quickly raising his head. "They don't seem to have it many places. Just get us two shots of your strongest whiskey."
He nodded to Harry, but shot a suspicious look to Arthur before turning his back on the pair to get the drinks.
"Muggle pub…right…should've remembered that…" Arthur mumbled quietly, looking around with great interest. Harry didn't respond. When the barman returned with their drinks, Arthur picked them up and headed towards a booth in an out of the way corner. Harry got to his feet heavily and threw some Muggle money on the bar with a muttered "Thanks," before following.
He slid onto the bench across from his father-in-law, but kept his eyes down, not meeting the eyes of the other man. "So, Ron told you about this place." It wasn't a question. Ron was the only one who knew that Harry sometimes took refuge in this pub. It was a dark and dingy little place with very few patrons. Harry had discovered it shortly after the war ended, when it was nearly impossible for him to go anywhere without being hounded by reporters for interviews or mobbed by flocks of admirers. It was the ideal place to get away, to be anonymous for awhile. A place he could go to escape the pressure of being 'Harry Potter'.
"Well, not at first. It took a little convincing, but he was pretty irate." Harry nodded glumly at these words, but he wasn't surprised. "Why don't you tell me what happened."
They were both silent for several moments, but Harry finally sighed. "I-I don't know. I just…" he trailed off. Arthur slid one of the glasses across the table to him. Harry downed it quickly with hardly a grimace and began his story again. "James just doesn't stop crying. It doesn't matter what we do, he just doesn't stop. Sometimes for hours at a time he just cries and cries and cries. We called the healer. She told us there is nothing wrong with him, but he just keeps crying. There's nothing we can do about it. And when he cries, Ginny starts to cry, and there's nothing I can do for either of them.
"We had finally gotten him down for his nap this afternoon, and Ginny just looked so exhausted, so I told her to get some rest too. I meant to just go out back to that little copse of trees to do a bit of flying, to clear my head, but somehow I ended up here. I kept telling myself, 'Just five more minutes. Five more minutes, then you've got to get back,' but I can't do it. I just keep sitting here." With a quick gesture of his wand under the table, Harry refilled his own glass and downed it again, just as quickly.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Weasley. I thought I could do this, but I just can't," Harry continued. "I don't know the first thing about being a father! Uncle Vernon's the only example I ever had, and he just taught me what not to do. I've never even seen what a good father looks like!"
After a beat, he looked up, eyes wide. "I-I didn't mean that. You're a great father, of course, it's just…I…" he trailed off, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
Arthur waved his comment aside, and looked him straight in the eye. "I know you had a significant lack of father figures early in your life, Harry, but that's no excuse for what you're doing now." Harry ducked his head in embarrassment. He had never heard that stern, fierce tone in Mr. Weasley's voice before, and it scared him a bit.
"I always thought you were either extremely brave or extremely stupid to marry a woman with so many older brothers. Everything I know about you and your character always pointed toward brave. But this," he gestured around the bar, "walking out on Ginny tonight, abandoning your wife when she needs you, well, that definitely adds a few points to the 'stupid' column."
Harry stared into his empty glass, "I know, I'm sorry."
"It's not me you should be apologizing to." Harry nodded, but didn't look up.
"Look Harry," Arthur sighed, continuing in a bit softer tone, "I didn't here as Ginny's angry father to issue threats. Let's face it, I'm no match for you anyway. I'm here because, well, I remember how hard it was for me when Bill was first born. It took him ages to learn to sleep through the night. For the longest time, he would wake up every two hours, like clockwork. Molly was at her wit's end and almost constantly in tears and I felt completely hopeless. The urge to run away was nearly overwhelming. So I floo'd my dad, and you know what he told me, Harry?"
Harry just shook his head mutely.
"He said, 'Great fathers aren't born, Arthur, they're made. They're made by sticking around through the tough times and always being there, no matter what.' You never struck me as the type of person who ran away from difficulty, Harry. In fact, more often than not, you ran straight toward it."
Harry shook his head, "This is different…I-"
"Damn right this is different. This is much easier. This is your son, Harry. And you're not alone in this. You've got Ginny, and Ron, and Hermione, and Molly, and myself and scores of other people. We'll help you, Harry, you just need to ask."
"It just…it feel like I'm failing them. It seems like asking for help is admitting defeat."
"There's no shame in leaning on your family, Harry. That's what we're here for." He hesitated for a moment before continuing. "I know I'm not your father, but I want you to know that I thought of you as my son long before you married my daughter. I care about you, Harry, and I'm here for you if you need me."
Harry's head jerked up in surprise. "I—uh, erm…thanks, Mr. Weasley. I appreciate that, really. And I appreciate you sharing that advice from your father. He sounds like he was a very wise man."
Arthur chucked loudly, "Well, actually, that night I floo'd him, he burst into laughter and told me that it served me right since I was such an obnoxious child, but that didn't really help me any and I didn't figure it would be a great help to you either."
Harry cracked the closest thing to a smile he had all night.
Arthur climbed to his feet, leaving his untouched drink on the table. "You're a good man, Harry. Go home."
"I'd never really leave her, you know," Harry said quietly before Arthur was out of earshot. "Or him. I couldn't. I know what it's like to grow up without a father, without the people who love you most in the world beside you. I'd never do that to either of them."
"I do know. If you didn't want us to find you, you wouldn't have come here," Arthur said, turning around and patting Harry's shoulder briefly.
"Oh, and son, if you ever do something like this again, I'll let Ron come after you. But not before I floo Bill, Charlie, Percy, and George. 'Chosen One' or not, I don't think you'd stand a chance against the combined tempers of five Weasley sons." He patted Harry's shoulder once more, a bit harder than was necessary and, ignoring the stricken look on the other man's face, strolled nonchalantly across the pub, whistling merrily.