Written for my final for my Harry Potter class last semester. Post-epilogue, though that's obvious in fic.

When James first brings him up, Harry chokes on his pumpkin juice.

"What?" he asks, sure he's heard something wrong. That there just happens to be someone at Hogwarts with the name 'Colin', which isn't particularly rare so it's not unlikely. But then—

"Cool Colin!" the soon-to-be fourth year says after swallowing a mouthful of egg. "We've totally mentioned him before, right Al?"

Al nods, fiddling with the fruit on his plate. "Yeah, for sure. He hangs around the Gryffindor common room sometimes, and likes to hide in beds 'cause he died in his pajamas." He bites into a piece of bacon.

Harry cannot properly process this. It has been over twenty years, but the mention of Colin Creevey brings the pain back fresh: the night of the final battle, of going to his death, of passing that fragile corpse on the damp night grass…

Ginny has to snap him out of it. She shoos the boys off and then sits down next to him; when Harry properly comes to, she's staring at him with all of her intent and concern.

"D-did you…?" he manages out, acutely aware that he is shaking. Ginny gives a small nod.

"I thought you knew," she says, gripping his hand tightly. Harry is thankful: it helps ground him.

"The boys have mentioned him a few times. Nev said something once, too—I can't imagine seeing him where you work though." Harry nodded slowly. The idea of seeing the ghost of a dead classmate… a dead kid… a kid you remember dying every day sounded like torture.

"Is he… do they…?"

"I doubt Colin's shared much of anything with them about the war," Ginny told him, her thumb rubbing circles on the back of his hand. "He was always the type to dwell on the positive."

That had certainly been true.

"Do you think he's… certainly Col—he—" Harry struggles with the name. "Colin's, he's made the connection of 'Potter'? He's had to have, and with the boys in school…" He isn't sure what he is saying, but Ginny knows him inside and out. She understands.

"I'm sure he's been fine around them," she reassures. "He was… well, you weren't there that year, but Colin…" Ginny's hesitation is palpable: they both hate talking about those years. "He grew up a lot. Even you've admitted he didn't bother you a lot after your fourth year, and so…" She shrugs, her hair swishing around. "He's just another ghost to the boys. A young ghost but…"

"Not Colin Creevey," Harry finishes. "Not someone their parents knew."

Ginny nods solemnly. "Right. We should probably keep it that way."

Harry knows she is right, of course. He doesn't want his kids to know that they knew Colin, not as a ghost, but as a classmate. There is, as Harry knows, a stark contrast between learning about war in history and learning about war from someone who has experienced it. Even if that person is now a ghost.

So it's settled. Ginny goes ahead and makes a Fire-call for him into the office, letting them know he's running late that morning, and since the Ministry is always pushing Aurors to take appropriate time off, they have no problem with her request. Harry is still sitting at the kitchen table, but he can feel his legs now, can recognize that his hands are there. He realizes that his wand is in the bedroom, and for the first time in years this startles him. However, Harry hoists himself up a few minutes later and goes to take a long, calming shower.

Life goes on.

Harry doesn't expect James to ask him about Colin. There have certainly been times he or Ginny are not the most composed about the realities from the war, especially during James' younger childhood. But it has always been understood that it was not a subject to broach, because as much as they want their kids to understand the struggle everyone went through for freedom, it is still too fresh in their minds. The pain is too bright.

That is why he does not anticipate the knock on his door a couple of weeks later. It is late at night, and his oldest son should be in bed. Ginny has already turned in for the night, because she is coming off of a big deadline week in preparation for the Quidditch World Cup. The noise startles him, but Harry beckons James into the dimly lit study.

"Is everything all right?" he asks, setting down the quill he had been using. James, in his pajamas that are a bit too long in the arms, with his bare feet, looks very young. His mouth is quirked downward, eyes trained on the floor.

"I was just wondering…" James begins, and takes a step or two further into the room. "The other day at breakfast, when I mentioned Cool Colin… what was that all about?"

Harry has to fight to maintain his composure. James is looking at him with wide brown eyes. Sometimes, Harry forgets his oldest son is only fourteen. Sometimes, he wonders if he looked this young.

"That depends," Harry says slowly. He is trying to keep his voice level, but unsure if he is succeeding. Part of him wishes Ginny was awake to help him with this. "What do you want to know?"

James is now fully in the room, one hand braced on the edge of Harry's desk. He looks more confident since Harry has not outright rejected him.

"I dunno, just… what's the big deal about him?" Harry wants to say there is no big deal, when James adds, "You totally got all weird when Al and I mentioned him."

Harry takes a full minute to contemplate his response. He does not even consider lying: that is too great an injustice, both to James' intelligence and Colin's memory. He decides to go with the simplest truth.

"Your mother and I went to school with him."

Harry waits for James to throw a slew of questions at him, because that response does not answer much. Instead, the boy cocks his head a bit to the side, pokes his tongue out unconsciously as he contemplates Harry's answer.

"Is that why he's in pajamas? Because he was a student when he died?" James asks.

"That is one reason," Harry says, because it is.

Harry is not sure why this seems to satisfy James' curiosity. Perhaps, he has simply made the proper conclusions himself, or else senses that Harry does not wish to talk about it anymore. But James just mutters "thank you" and heads for the door.

Harry watches his boy retreat and realizes there is so much more he could say. He is not sure if he can. Then James turns, one hand on the doorframe, and says, "I met him my first day of term. He was in the Common Room right after the feast, and he introduced himself as soon as I walked in." James gave a half shrug. "I thought maybe he'd been ghost friendly when you were at school, because he called me 'Harry'."

Then James shuffles out of the room, leaving the door ajar.