Since Fifth Year

Fear

Third Person POV

"Where are they Hermione?" Harry shouted at the bushy-haired girl.
Harry was scared. His heart was racing and his mind was filling with the most horrific of thoughts; panic started to overwhelm his sense of rationality. He didn't know where Albus was and they were supposed to leave today.
"Harry, I don't know. They ran to protect us, like we did when we were younger," said Hermione bringing, him back to earth.
"Yeah well...." Harry didn't know what to say after that, "They're only fifteen. We were seventeen."
"Two year age difference, so what." said Ron, not really caring at this point.
"Your daughter ran away, shouldn't you be a little more worried?" Harry said, snapping at Ron. "Yeah well, Rose is much like 'mione over here. Headstrong, smart, quick as a whip, and a rule follower. We raised a whole entire secret army Harry. We did it when we were fifteen. We faced the dark lord countless times, you fought him, and we broke the rules when we had to. They're only kids, but their smart as hell." said Ron, making a few good points, "Plus you've also got Malfoy there. He's smart as Rose."
Ron tossed his apple backwards, but instead of landing in the rubbish bin, it was burnt to a crisp by magical fire.
"My kid is missing, Potter," said Draco, walking swiftly towards the trio, "It's always you Potter. You always drag everyone into a spiraling hurricane of bullshit, and now we all have to pay for it."
"Oh shut it Malfoy. The kids were only doing what they thought best. They were trying to protect us," Harry said with an annoyed tone.
"Key word were," said Draco.
"Didn't I say shut it? Now I don't know where they are, but they may or may not be safe," Harry said with uncertainty.
"Potter we don't know what the hell is happening. We're on the verge of war Potter and our children are Merlin knows where," said Draco with a very stern voice, "I knew I shouldn't of let my family anywhere near yours Potter."
"You know what. I'm not doing this now," said Harry, storming off upstairs, "Ginny, get the kids. We need to go now!"
"What about Al?" asked Ginny, concerned for her second son.
"He's better off without us right now Gin. They're after him, not us," said Harry, trying not to let the parent side of him take over his mind.
"But he's your-"
"Gin, you remember when Ron, Hermione, and I ran away all those years ago? We were protecting everyone else. I broke up with you to protect you. Al- well Al has done what he thought was right. He's right in his mind Ginny. He's the chosen one this time, and you're damned if you try to stop him," Harry said, cutting off his wife.
Ginny had paused for a moment, but then continued arguing with her husband, "Then let's go find him."
"Ginny! Wait, if he's with Rose then their going to be well hidden," said Harry, trying to stop his wife.
"Then what am I supposed to do Harry?! Sit here and wait for them to turn up dead in some Muggle newspaper?!" said Ginny, growing angrier and more upset by the minute, "I don't care if he's trying to protect us! He's my son and no one is going to stop me from finding him!"
Ginny angrily walked towards the door. Harry grabbed her wrist to stop her from leaving.
"You're making the wrong decision Gin," said Harry, "You remember the prophecy I told you about? The one where Albus will be taken over by he who must not be named?"
"Prophecies can be changed," said Ginny, hastily walking towards a corner. She folded her arms as if it would mask her discomfort.
"Yeah but that doesn't mean they aren't right," said Harry, remembering his prophecy, "You remember when I died?"
"You didn't though. You didn't die," said Ginny, her voice growing quicker so as to hide the cracking.
"But my prophecy came true. Trewlany's divination class may have seemed boring and useless, but her readings were never wrong," Harry explained, his wife growing more distressed with each passing second, "Prophecies can change, but the one they tell is right. Even if you can't figure it out right away."
Ginny started to break down into tears, as Harry pulled his wife into a tight hug. He called for his children to help comfort his crying wife.
"Mummy, it's alright. Al's alright mummy," said Lily, embracing her mother, while James softly smiled, trying to sound like the man his parents raised him to be.
"Mum, it'll be alright. Al has Rose and Scorpius. They'll be alright, as long as they're...t-together," James said, his voice breaking as tears slid down his face.
James and Lily took their crying mother upstairs. Harry, instead, approached the platinum-blonde haired man, who was sitting in the largest chair in the living room. He was swirling around a bottle of fire whiskey, taking the occasional gulp of the magical, golden-brown liquid.
"First Astoria, then my parents, and now," said Draco, taking a drink, "Now I don't know where my son is Potter. He may as well be dead for all I know."
Draco shed tears as he drank the bottle, swallowing the liquid gold that came out. He was smiling through the pain of not knowing where his son was.
"He's not dead Malfoy," said Harry, sitting in the chair adjacent to him.
"You say that, but you don't know if it's true," said Draco, his voice slurring and breaking more as he downed the liquid.
"Oh stop being so negative Malfoy. Stop being so much like- like-" Harry tried to think of an analogy.
"Like what Potter?" asked Draco, taking another drink.
"Like a Malfoy," said Harry, acting a bit arrogant.
"And what's that suppose to mean?" asked Draco, now tipsy.
"Okay, for one thing, your son isn't anything like you," Harry said sharply, "Draco, stop being so negative about everything. You always do this. You always throw a hissy fit when things go wrong."
"I do not!" protested Draco, turning his gaze away from the bottle, "Give me one example."
"Gladly," said Harry, getting up to reenact the scene, "Fourth year, you were turned into a weasel by Alastor Moody, who was being impersonated by Bartemous Crouch Junior. I remember you were bullying me about being in the Triwizard Tournament. You and Lucius had bet on how long I would live. You said something along the lines of, 'My father and I have a bet, you see. See, I don't think you'll last ten minutes in the tournament. He disagrees. He thinks you wont last five!' Also, while you were weaseling away, you managed to squirm out, 'My father will hear about this.'"
"Okay, okay, okay. Didn't need to go into that much detail Potter," said Draco, finishing the bottle of fire whiskey in one last gulp, "Oh and Potter. I think....hic...I think one of the boys...hic...may...hic...have taken...hic... one of my bottles...hic...of fire whiskey."
Harry's eyes widened with fear.
"What?" he shrieked, "You mean to tell me, they stole a bottle of fire whiskey?"
"Yes," answered a drunken Draco, who was now smiling like an idiot.
"Oh go to sleep Malfoy. You're drunk!" exclaimed Harry.
"Fine, whatever Potter. Hic...go and fight...hic...your stupid war again...hic...Potter. I'll be waiting for the end of the world....hic...alone!" said a very drunk and very irrational Draco.
Harry left the drunken Draco asleep on his chair, while he made himself a cup of tea.
"Is it really the end of the world or is it fear?" he asked himself, reflecting on his encounters with the dark lord, the ministry, and the chaos of his youth. Then Harry remembered the words of his mentor and close friend, Albus Dumbledor. "It is the unknown we fear when we look upon darkness and death, nothing more," Harry quoted, returning to wander his thoughts, "Everything must come to an end."