Post by Deleted on Jul 31, 2015 20:20:32 GMT -5
Harry sighed as he walked down a hallway filled with portraits of legendary quidditch players, stopping at each one to stare over. One would have assumed that he would have come to this museum many times being that he was an avid supporter of all things related to quidditch when in reality, he hadn’t actually came to the museum until he and Hermione had children and apparently museums were good for their knowledge or something. Really, he would much rather just play the sport than look at portraits of people in their prime. It was a pastime that Harry did miss, the thrill of being in the air, eyes rapidly moving to detect where the blasted snitch was hiding. Now, instead of playing the most beloved game in the wizarding world, Harry was disinterestedly meandering through the halls while his children were off somewhere in the museum looking at whatever they could find. Well, they were probably touching things that they shouldn’t be touching, but if the museum didn’t want children to touch displays, they should have bloody wards.
So, in celebration of Harry’s birthday, he opted to take the kids out for the day, spending some time with them. He wasn’t exactly spending time with them, some would argue, but they were kids. They clearly needed at least some space and he wasn’t going to hound them while they had some unsupervised adventures. If they broke anything, he would deal with that later…and possibly have to explain quite a lot to Hermione, but he’s done that dozens upon dozens of times before throughout the years…what was one more occasion? Running a hand through his hair, he spotted a bench a little ways down the hall. After making his way over, he plopped down on the creaky bench before staring blankly at the wall ahead. His eyes moved to study the closest portrait, rolling his eyes as he noted what it was. The portrait of the first starting quidditch team of the Holyhead Harpies was posted, each member waving over towards Harry. It was definitely something he wouldn’t understand…why women could come together and form a team and have it not be sexist…whereas, he would guarantee, if blokes did the same, they would never hear the end of it. Waving back half-heartedly, he rested his head against the wall behind him wondering how long it would take for his children to ruck something up so they could be kicked out…or until they were finished taking in whatever knowledge their heads desired.
So, in celebration of Harry’s birthday, he opted to take the kids out for the day, spending some time with them. He wasn’t exactly spending time with them, some would argue, but they were kids. They clearly needed at least some space and he wasn’t going to hound them while they had some unsupervised adventures. If they broke anything, he would deal with that later…and possibly have to explain quite a lot to Hermione, but he’s done that dozens upon dozens of times before throughout the years…what was one more occasion? Running a hand through his hair, he spotted a bench a little ways down the hall. After making his way over, he plopped down on the creaky bench before staring blankly at the wall ahead. His eyes moved to study the closest portrait, rolling his eyes as he noted what it was. The portrait of the first starting quidditch team of the Holyhead Harpies was posted, each member waving over towards Harry. It was definitely something he wouldn’t understand…why women could come together and form a team and have it not be sexist…whereas, he would guarantee, if blokes did the same, they would never hear the end of it. Waving back half-heartedly, he rested his head against the wall behind him wondering how long it would take for his children to ruck something up so they could be kicked out…or until they were finished taking in whatever knowledge their heads desired.
