HP ficlet: an Addendum to One Green Bauble
A post- One Green Bauble ficlet-y thing.
A lovely reviewer left a review which said: Yay for family traditions that you'll never tell the kids the story to!
and I had to write this (it makes NO sense unless you've read One Green Bauble). It's just meaningless waffle, but...hey, it's the first bit of writing I've done in over a week. Un betad, will have mistakes in, but I don't care *grin*. Betad by the wonderful
amightypenguin.
*
"What are we keeping this for, Father?" Draco and Harry's eldest, Sirius, asked, holding the bauble in his fingers.
"Tradition," Draco replied, not looking up from his potions book. "Just put it on the tree."
"But why's it all dented?"
The book quivered, Draco's knuckles whitening as his grip tightened. "Just put it on the tree, Sirius, and go help your dad with dinner."
Sirius's eyes narrowed, sensing a story. He hung the bauble in its usual spot, and with grey eyes glittering with purpose, set off to the kitchen to find his dad.
Harry was showing Lily how to whip cream, trying to stop the five-year-old from flicking it all over the floor, and barely looked up as his son entered the room.
"Dad..." Sirius began.
"Yeah?"
"Why's that green bauble dented?"
The whisk clattered to the ground and Harry hastily picked it up, going to the sink to give it a rinse under the tap. Not looking at Sirius, he asked, "What green bauble?"
"On the tree."
"Ah, right." He turned back around, pushing his glasses up with a wet finger, whisk brandishing in the air. "Ask your father."
"He told me to ask you," Sirius lied.
"Did he now? To be honest, I really don't remember the full story. I think me and your father were fighting." The fond smile on his lips didn't match what he was saying. "We fought a lot back then."
"So why did you keep it?"
"Sentimental value," Harry replied. Holding out the whisk to his son, he added, "Now, if you have nothing better to do than ask stupid questions you can show your sister how to whisk."
Sirius scowled but did as he was told; he clearly wasn't going to get a straight answer from either of his parents, but he wasn't going to give up. The next time Uncle Ron and Auntie Hermione came around, he'd wait until they'd had a few, and then he'd ask again. And maybe then he would get an honest answer.
He smiled as he handed the whisk to his little sister, unaware of his dad's suspicious expression.
*
(Sirius Asks fic)