Nox
A/N: Hey, I actually thought this was going to be a dud. But I guess I'm all right with it. Kind of cute, maybe. Dunno.
The quote at the end of the last chapter was in a, well, quote book of my teachers that I copied down into mine. I thought the retrospection and the whole life span there was fitting since this story is focused on the three male Potters in different stages of life. I guess....there's a slightly more developed plot in this than TIYF, but lets see how I write this next chapter, eh? I have currently yet to and am sitting here at the computer desk with a completely blank page beneath besides the Title, Author, and chapter number. Can you feel the anticipation?
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.
"Fame is a fickle friend Harry."
"Celebrity is as celebrity does. Remember that."
-Gilderoy Lockhart to Harry in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (1999), pg.120 American Version
Chapter 2: Never Out of Fever Fudge
"Cannons! Cannons! Cannons!"
The sound of the crowd was deafening. The doubtless minds of the Chudley fans never wavered. This was going to be their season.
And that was his boy.
James Potter yelled and jumped with the rest of them. Almost forty, and kicking. In the one moment when Harry's fingers clasped the snitch and had it in his grip, James saw the past. Suddenly, he was looking into baby Harry's eyes for the first time, that tell tale moment for all father's. Then, he was tucking in a one year old Harry and placing the stuffed toy broom next to him, which he grasped with his little fingers and pulled to his tiny chest before closing his mother's eyes.
He was picking him up after his first fall in their back yard, finally allowing Harry to try to fly without him. Before he could ask if he was all right, Harry was back in the air.
He was coaxing him before his first quidditch match. He was sweeping him into a hug when he won. He was releasing his grip with a grin when Harry didn't want his friends to see him hugging his old man.
He was sitting next to Harry in the Cannons manager, Ragmar Dorkins' office. He was placing a hand on Harry's shoulder when he picked up the quill to sign the contract. And he was telling him how proud of him he was outside the office.
And now he was burning a hole in his throat bloody screaming. It was a perfect day.
"Well, how does it feel to be a professional quidditch player?" James asked as soon as he entered the locker room.
"Like...," Harry inhaled slowly, but glowing, "like I'm never going to have a private life again?" He laughed.
"Oh yeah," James gave him a shove, "you must be devastated."
"Yes, just crushed." Harry chuckled as he threw the rest of his quidditch robes and gear into his gym bag. "Where's mom and Simon?"
"Waiting outside. Lily thought you'd be embarrassed if your mum went in the Cannons locker room for you." He and Harry shared a laugh at that one. They both knew she'd done it before. "...and Simon, well, I think he's a bit jealous, don't you?"
"That might be one way to put it." Harry said congenially, closing the locker. "Another way is that he's being a-"
"Yes dear?!" James called loudly, putting his hand to his ear. He turned towards the locker room exit. "Yes, Lily, our son's just fine, being a right gentleman completely..."
"Oh, stop." They laughed as the headed for a celebratory dinner back home.
"That feint was perfectly timed..."
"You looked lovely, dear..."
"You got hit by that bludger really hard." The amiability in the air ceased a bit with Simon's commentary.
"Yes, Simon." Harry said slowly, and carefully like he was speaking to a child-a younger child. "You see, in quidditch, the bludger is used to attempt to knock the seeker," he said brightly, "off his head." Simon pulled a face at him which he was glad to return.
"Okay, that's enough." Lily rose from her seat collecting her and James' plate. "It's so good to have you home, Harry. Things are just like normal." She shot her son a playful look before offering up dessert.
"Hey Harry, how's Gaven?" Lily asked in the middle of their pecan pie. Harry froze.
"Oh, she and I aren't seeing each other any more." He answered carefully, fixing his eyes on the embroidery tablecloth.
"Oh, really?" Lily laid her fork down. "How come?"
"Did she dump you?" Simon asked bluntly before shoveling a large bite of pie into his mouth.
"No, it was mutual." Harry glared.
"S-ure."
"Look, d'you wanna start?!" He threw down his fork.
"Fine!" Simon followed suit.
"Enough!" James roared as the two boys were making to rise from the table. "Will you two behave?! You know, that thing with no Fainting Fancies, Canary Creams, Nosebleed Nougats, Headless Hats, Portable Swamps, Skiving Snackboxes or Puking Pastilles?" Harry and Simon sniggered into their pie as they resumed eating again. Fred and George had provided a plethora of artillery to use against one another on the home battlefield. Obviously, to the great dislike of Lily and James...Not so much James.
The rest of dessert was eaten in silence.
"My sister will love this!"
"You mean she'll hate it."
"Exactly. I'm getting two."
"No! That means there won't be enough for me to use on my cousins! They're coming to visit next week and they're always right hell!"
"Well, too bad!"
"Yeah! Too bad for you! They're mine!"
"I had 'em first...!"
"Now boys," The looming image of Fred Weasley appeared over Rich and Daniel's heads. "There is plenty more in the back." He smiled mischievously as he turned to retrieve more Fever Fudge from the back.
Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes was filled to the brim with adolescent marauders from it's little plot in Diagon Alley. It was the Grand Opening after a two year renovation, and a debut of three new tricks; Pancreas Pastries, Mucus Mudpies, and Babbling Brooks(real babbling brooks, a portable stream that rudely criticized a passerby's reflection with no remorse).
"Hey, Harry! How you holding up out there, old bean?!" George Weasley called out the door from behind the counter.
"Oh um, just-uh-fine-fine Fred!" Harry was surrounded by a large crowd a good fraction of the one inside the shop. Autographs were in high demand from prepubescent girls and boys to girls his age not intimidated by flirting that came close to shamefuland a little bit of ("ugh!") uncomfortable groping on their part. The older ones were kinder to him, and treated them almost in a grandparent fashion. However, he still liked the innocent passer byers best, who walked on with just a glance at the frenzy.
Another flash went off and Harry had to blink for several moments before the colored circles would leave his vision. He knew that a photographer and a reporter were present from the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly, but he was sure he heard at least three distinct sounding camera clicks and part of him prayed that Colin Creevey went home for the Easter holidays.
It was going to be a very long day.
Harry hated being right.
After three hours in front of Fred and George's shop he was finally allotted to go home...after being formerly presented (and completely unnecessarily, he might add) with his choice of anything he wanted in the store. Feeling particularly evil, Harry feigned interest and intense concentration and browsed the shop methodically before choosing two boxes of Deflagration Deluxes and firing the full contents of both boxes into the overhead sky as the crowd-and much of Diagon Alley- watched the Weasleys' fireworks in awe and amusement. During which, Harry grabbed a portable swamp and "accidently" dropped it below the twins' feet. As soon as the crowd began to notice the two fiery red heads above a large pool of mud, he made his departure.
Call him weak, but at eighteen Harry still longed for the comfort of his childhood bed. So, that night he stayed at his parents house.
After a long shower, washing off the day, he climbed between thesheets with a deep sigh of content. There, he fell into a peaceful sleep, feeling even particularly younger than he was. But not before one last look at the wall he had formerly shared with his brother, did he accomplish the latter.
"My own experience has taught me this:
if you wait for the perfect moment when all is safe and assured it may never arrive.
Mountains will not be climbed, races won or lasting happiness achieved."
- Maurice Chevalier
A/N: Review please....
lumos