Characters: Harry, Albus Severus
Rating/Warnings: R, darkness, off-screen character death
Word Count: 399
Prompt: “In my dreams, your dreams come true.”
Summary: The phoenix always rises again from the ashes to burn again. That doesn’t mean the flames still do not hurt.
The smell of smoke clung to every pair of robes Harry owned. Similarly, most bore hex marks, spells blocked by skin-close shields or immediately countered. Circles under his eyes testified to the calls he and his Auror team responded to almost every night.
Harry shouldered the mantle reluctantly, resurrecting the Order of the Phoenix. Its spirit surged up with a great cry, born again out of the ashes of misery and blood. He would hand over the responsibility if he could, and yet… no. He only had to look at his family to know he could trust this to no one else. He had dealt before with a Dark Lord; he could deal with another.
He hid his family away. James weathered the storm with the confidence of his namesakes. Little Lily had no idea what was going on; Ginny made it an adventure for her. But Albus Severus… his middle child clung to him. Albus fell asleep waiting for him every night, curled in his chair or the window seat, once even on the rug barely inside the door, just so he would know that Harry was home on those rare occasions he could come home.
Harry always picked up his son, cradling Albus to his chest and bringing him to bed. “Don’t leave!” he always plead, and Harry stayed until Albus slept again. He always stroked that unruly black hair, glad that this time, a child didn’t have the burden. This child, his child, had a father to take it. He would win, for his son. His family.
He leaned over and kissed Al’s forehead, furrowed even in sleep. “Sweet dreams, son,” he whispered like a spell, or a prayer. “In my dreams, your dreams come true.” And because that was true, Harry left to join the fight again.
The safe house, compromised. His family, scattered.
His child, dead.
Rage surged and filled him. It was because of all his children, Albus looked the most like him. Of all his children, he often favored Albus most. This strike intended to destroy him. Instead, it honed his dangerous edge into deadliness.
There would retribution.
In the flames of his anger, there would be justice. Vengeance.
Anything getting in the way would burn, burn to ashes.
Someone’s dreams would come true, even if Albus Severus’ wouldn’t anymore.
A/N: Written for dyno_drabbles. It was, unsurprisingly, the only truly angsty piece submitted for the round. Equally unsurprisingly, I didn't receive any sort of award for it. People always choose fluff over angst.