Faultlines

Harry Potter

Harry Potter

Howard Stark knew he wasn't the best father or husband in the world. Far from it, actually.

But he had started out with nothing and his boys would have everything. And to be honest: he loved working. He loved experimenting. He loved THINKING.

And looking after children was... well, boring sometimes. Not his boys. They were both far from boring. But he never got the appeal of sitting around playing monopoly... or throwing a ball. And feigning interest in rudimentary drawing seemed ridiculous. No, it was not good. Try harder. Work harder. It will get better. That was how he had managed to get where he was and he'd gotten farther than anyone would have ever expected.

People had wondered about him, the playboy, marrying Maria. Why had he? Simple: He loved her. She loved him. She understood him. She didn't try to change him. She accepted him and didn't ask anything of him that he couldn't give. So when she had told him that she had wanted a child, he hadn't found it in him to say no. How could he, really, take that from her? So he had agreed and he had resigned himself to being a terrible father. It was inevitable, he knew. What had he heard all those years ago? Oh yes. 'You can't be a father, Howard. You will get bored after a couple of months and then what?' He had hated her for saying it, but in a way he knew she wasn't wrong.

Tony had been a positive surprise. Smart. Determined. Howard knew that one day they'd be able to talk to each other like equals and he was looking forward to that. He was determined to do his best, spend time with Tony, teach him. But work took up so much time. His brain didn't like resting. He took Tony on an expedition, thinking they could spend time together that way, but Tony didn't like it and Howard didn't know what to tell him anymore. He would make up for it someday.

Someday, when Lily was older, he would find her, tell her the truth and tell her how sorry he was. He would be a father or at least a friend. Someday he would finally find the time to spend more time with Tony.

But Tony didn't really like spending time with him then, angry at his absentee Dad. And Lily... Lily died without ever even knowing him. Howard felt like his whole life, his whole carefully constructed plan came crushing down around him.

And then there was Harry. Tiny, orphaned little Harry. Locked in a cupboard, alone in the dark. Holding on to Howard like a lifeline and not letting go. He had already been on his way out. The home was nice. There were baby things everywhere. Nothing for him to do, but demand to wake a sleeping baby. He had walked past that cupboard and heard a tiny, almost inaudible whimper. The look of horror on Petunia Dursley's face had been far more telling than that noise that could have come from anywhere. Malnourished and scared, the doctor had told him, with a strange cut on his forehead. He hadn't waited. Hadn't planned. He had taken the jet home, Harry safe in his arms and never looked back. No one had cared enough to check, no one had even bothered to look. Hide him. Protect him. Do it right, this time.

And so he had tried this time. He had read some bedtime stories. He had looked at those drawings. He had hung some in his workspace.

He couldn't do that anymore with Tony. Tony, he hoped, would understand someday. And maybe, just maybe, he would see that Howard was trying. It was all he could do now.

"Dad?", Harry asked him carefully. Howard looked down at his second (third, fourth, fifth) chance and smiled. His golden boy with the unruly black hair. He was nervous and trying not to show it, Howard realized. His hair was neatly brushed over his forehead and he was, much like his father, dressed in a suit.

"Yes, Harry?"

" Tony won't be back in time, will he? "

"No. He is ACTUALLY studying, I hear. We should not risk him realizing that it's something I welcome. "