Title: Living the Dream: Facing the Nightmare

Author: Nearly Perfect

Summary: Professional athlete, Harry Potter's greatest dilemma is keeping his younger brother at bay.

"...Harry saw himself in robes that had his name on the back, and imagined the sensation of hearing a hundred-thousand-strong crowd roar, as Ludo Bagman's voice echoed throughout the stadium, "I give you...Potter!"

-Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire(2000), pg. 118 American Version

"Oy, Rich! Over here, mate!" Daniel signaled to his friend frantically.

"So?! Did you get 'em?! Did you get 'em?!" His fellow fourth year student prodded. Daniel beamed.

"Right here, in my hand, I hold tickets for the first seasonal quidditch match of the actual Chudley Cannons!"

"Yes! Bloody Hell, mate...How d'you ever get a hold of these?"

"My dad works at the ministry." He answered simply.

"In the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts division, Danny, you nutter." Rich snapped lamely.

"Exactly,"Dan grinned back. "Someone in the Games and Sports Department "accidentally" sold a muggle suitcase with a Black Hole Hex on it. Dad did him a favor and hushed it up." Dan said smugly. "Ironic how it just happened to be his mother and law, isn't it?"

"I can't believe you got 'em." Rich awed.

"Neither can I. Can you picture it? Just wait until all the guys hear how we got to see Harry Potter's professional quidditch debut with our very own eyes..."

"Wow..."

"Yeah."

"Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod, OH MY GOD!" She screamed.

"What?! What?! Marilyn, what?!" Her mother raced to her room to see her twelve year old daughter jumping on her bed screaming hysterically holding a Witch Weekly magazine.

"Harry Potter is going to be in Hogsmeade this weekend for a Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes promotion!" She screeched to all Nirvana. "Oh-my-GOD!"

Clutching her chest, her mother turned away speechless from the room muttering something like 'second time this week...'

"Say, d'you hear 'bout the Potter lad?" The Hog's Head talk turned.

"No, what about him?"

"Quidditch," he grunted, "he's playing for the Fudley, Hudley, Dudley-"

"It's Chudley, Griff, you great dolt!" His no less intoxicated companion slurred. "Chudley Cannons."

"Right, right, whatever." Slurp.

"He plays quidditch?"

"Dunno, 'ppears so."

"Huh."

"Ugh." Chug.

"I love Harry Potter..." Rich and Dan awed in unision.

"I LOVE Harry Potter!" Marilyn Heidge, 12 of Slough screamed.

"I love Harry Potter," anonymous strangers muttered incoherently deep inside the Hog's Head pub.

"I hate Harry Potter."

"Simon...,"Lily Potter chastised the sulking fourteen year old.

"What?" He snapped back. "Just because the rest of the world is in love with him doesn't mean I have to be, too does it?"

"Simon-"

"Does it?!"

"Now stop that. Your brother has been waiting for this for a very long time. He can't help what people say about him. A lot of people look up to him, and would kill to be as close to him as you are."

"They can have him." Simon Potter shoved off the counter where his mother was preparing vegetables for dinner. "But they should know," he called as he exited the kitchen with a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, "he eats like a pig, doesn't pick up his room and uses way too much cologne."

"Don't spoil your di-," she paused, "-nner." It was pointless. Not one of her boys could every spoil their appetites. Not the youngest son, the oldest son or the baby, James. She knew that much by now.

Lily knew that her youngest loved her firstborn. It was just...hard for him to have to share him with the world. After all, she noted with pride only a mother can possess, she didn't see Cynthia Diggory around here bragging about Dear Cedric anymore. It wasn't her son who was the professional quidditch player. She knew it was wrong to think, Cedric was a very sweet boy, but that woman could be just infuriating!

Mind buzzing on Mrs. Diggory, Lily devoted herself to the vegetables.

Simon Potter was pissed...again. Slamming the door to his room he threw himself onto his bed and stared up at the ceiling. The Great Harry Potter...It was bad enough when it was just his father. James Potter, the great Auror himself. "Defender of Light" they called him. So he defeated one psycho wizard-what-over twenty years ago? Big deal. S'not like he's Dumbledore or anything.

Simon smiled. Albus Dumbledore, the crazy old coot himself. Headmaster's visits were...interesting, not to mention the funniest damn times to be had. Simon would never forget the look on the old wizard's face when he first met him. It was enough cause for shock when he asked to have one of his Every Flavor Beans, let alone when after popping the completely wrong one into his mouth and stating eloquently, "Alas, ear wax." Simon would never pick out an ear wax. He was an expert.

Sitting up, Simon stared at the wall. He once shared that wall with his brother. That was Harry's and his wall. Not anymore though, no sir. Now he lived somewhere in Devon or other. He claims it's to be closer to the Weasleys, but it's just a way to get away from here. "Here" being boring old Godric's Hollow. Never a change. Never any action. How dull.

As Simon's eyes rested on his old Shooting Star and Comet 260 (which wasn't much better despite vehement claims in the Authenticity Certificate) in the corner, his thoughts turned back to his brother. What would possess Harry to put himself in the public like that? Just parading his life about as if...entertainment. The thought disgusted Simon. He pledged long ago never to make a mistake like that. He was not his father, and he definitely was not Harry.

Feeling thoroughly depressed, he rose and made a grab for his Comet for a quick flight before dinner. That always seemed to calm him down.

"And don't forget you have to make an appearance for Wesley Wizen Wotchats or something or other..."

"It's Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, Frank." Harry corrected him exasperated. "And I know. They've been good friends of mine for the past decade or so, I don't think I'd forget..

"Right, good. So...," the thirty something year old began warily, "where are we on the autograph signing-"

"No where!" Harry ordered firmly before rising and walking away from the fireplace, ignoring Frank Little's cries.

"But Harry-it's for the fans! Come on!" Though he soon gave up, Harry didn't return to the fire place until he was sure that Frank's head was gone. The man was great, but definitely a Parana in the biz.

Harry did not have an agent per se...His dad, Sirius and Ron just thought it was a good idea to get some perspective on the industrial side of quidditch. Well "The Business" sucked, as Harry soon found. Though, he still went along with most of it, since he himself knew absolutely nothing about anything on the matter. Or as he would say, anything at all.

His mom, Hermione and Remus were a little more empathetic for him, understanding the turbulence of stardom. Especially when his name already had celebrity in it's own right. Everybody was keeping up with the Potters. The Potter men and the woman who handled them.

Harry sighed heavily into his tea as he lagged on the couch in his small flat. It was quiet but peaceful. He supposed that after eighteen years of living in a hectic household that an uncomfortable transition stage was to be expected. He grinned into his teacup. He just wished something would catch fire every once and while.

"First I was dying to finish high school and start college.
And then I was dying to finish college and start working.
And then I was dying to marry and have children.
And then I was dying for my children to grow old enough so I could return to work.
And then I was dying to retire.
And now, I am dying... and suddenly realize I forgot to live."

-Author Unknown

A/N: Huh, the second fanfic I write in two consecutive days after over two years of absence. Funny how that happens isn't it?

Review or no more(what a great punishment that would be, right?)
Humor me.

lumos