AN: Just a little drabble.
Disclaim: You know the drill, not mine, I don't get profits.
True
It had been years. Just one month and too little courage to make right what had been wrong for so long. What had been wrong without him even seeing it.
Well, that wasn't true. He had started noticing some time earlier, around that night's nightmarish encounter. That contrast between what was supposed to be respectable and real temple and compassion. Of course, he wouldn't have been able to put it in so many words then, but he was able to perceive it. Trueness of heart against bleached plastic normalcy. By the time he realized he preferred the first one in his life, it was almost too late.
And still, he was sure, that in that final moment, that last goodbye (and his last, and totally undeserved, gift to his family) Harry had recognized his plight.
It had been years, but that realization, that plight, filled this day with pride and wonder instead of fear and dread. Because his mothers blood had bred true in his child, and watching the teddy fly to the crib, his first feeling (after much surprise) was happiness.
Later he would have to sit his wife and explain. Later yet they would need to learn a new set of rules. Later, but soon, he would need to marshal the courage he couldn't on that last month, and write a letter (which he would later need to figure out how to send). But now, right now, he was enjoying this proof of himself and this bond. His son was honouring his cousin, and he was honoured with the care of this little marble, this miracle, this magical child.
Bring on the messy honesty of being true of heart. Normalcy is too over rated.