Chapter Two. 900 Words.
Theme 070. Sixty-Seven Percent.
Thursday dinner at the Potter home was once a crowded affair. Harry, Ginny, Andromeda, the four children, and often various members of the Weasley clan, occasionally a Longbottom or Scamander or Finnigan or Thomas or two; plenty of space, but still enough noise that the dining room sounded more like a crowded pub than a family residence. Harry and Ginny preferred it like this; one did not call the Burrow home for most of one's life without result. But tonight, Harry and Teddy Lupin sat across from each other at one end of the long, rectangular dining room table and ate baked spaghetti, something Harry could actually cook without feeling apprehensive of the result, and tried not to let the quietness dampen conversation. Maddox had been invited to stay, but she rarely did. Harry suspected she and her beau were getting into something rather more serious these days; he mentioned this casually to Teddy, who had still not come clean about the secret engagement to Victoire Weasley that absolutely everyone knew about.
"I expect she'll be marrying somewhat soon, not that she's told me," Harry said while grating some Parmesan over his plate, and then couldn't help himself from adding, "Although I think keeping me in the dark when we're practically family is sort of inconsiderate."
"I'm sure she has her reasons," Teddy replied lightly. He took a sip of wine, contemplated his glass for a second, and his eyebrows drew together. Three seconds later, when Harry and he met eyes across the table, bright green pupils met burgundy.
"Well, she'll be glad to get rid of me for the week and spend some time with him, in any case. I keep telling her to take more personal days, but she seems to think I'll crawl into a crevice in the cupboard and hide their, if left to my own devices."
"She wouldn't be so far off," Teddy shrugged. "When's the last time you went to see Uncle Ron?"
"I see him every day at work," Harry replied irritably.
"You know what I mean."
"Sorry my work schedule is a little too heavy for the social life everyone seems to presume I should have, then." Harry drank from his own glass of water rather deeply.
"That's bollocks, Harry." Teddy put his fork down and stared at his godfather evenly. "Since Aunt Ginny died, you hardly ever initiate social calls. Even with your friends. People who care about you."
"You make me sound like some deeply depressed widower." When Teddy said nothing, Harry continued, "But I'm not. I'm not throwing parties or anything, but I think I handle myself quite well, considering. I still function, don't I?"
"Depends on your definition," Teddy counters. Harry sighs.
"Look, I don't want to argue with you on your last night here. What about Victoire, then? Is she going to visit you while you're abroad?"
At this, Teddy cracks a crooked grin. "Well, I've absolutely forbidden her to take time away from her medical training, so naturally she'll show up within a month, and I'll have to call up Fleur to bring her home."
Harry smiles slightly. "She definitely has a bit of Weasely obstinance in her, that one. Plus the veela blood, she's a right nightmare to argue with, I'm sure. Suppose any of her kids will be completely intractable." Another trap. Subtle enough?
"Wouldn't know about any of that," Teddy shrugs, and no, Harry supposes it hadn't been. He frowns deeply. "Anyway. When do you leave for the Bahamas?"
"Saturday. It was the earliest I could get out. And then a full week of sitting on my arse, letting things go haywire here. I'm sure I'll go completely spare by the end of the first two days."
"Not just the sixty-seven percent we're working with now," Teddy grins again, and Harry mirrors it. "What made them decide to throw you out for the week, anyway?"
Harry paused here. It was always an awkward affair, telling people he was having nightmares. It was one thing to report to his therapist, who was paid to deal with those sorts of issues, and another to announce to family members who had daily blocks of time devoted to worrying about him even without his crazy dreams.
"Just not sleeping well," he settled on.
"Is it the..." Teddy carefully did not meet Harry's eye. "...The Dolohov thing?"
Harry stared intently at Teddy, who had yet to seriously talk to Harry about the scandal surrounding the man who had murdered his father. "Yes," he answered honsetly, "That's part of it."
"Well, if it's any comfort," Teddy said, almost muttering by this point, "It's been keeping me awake at night, too."
Harry didn't know what to say, so he did something he hadn't done since Teddy was very young, and grasped his godson's hand across the table, briefly, before inclining his head. "You want to talk about it?"
"Not really. There aren't words for any of it, anyway."
Harry kept himself from laughing darkly, but only just. When had he become so cynical? When had Teddy grown so much?
"I know, son," he answers. "I know."