Disclaimer: It's not mine. So don't sue me. I'm just borrowing Harry, Norman and Spider-man...

Harry Remembers

Author's Notes: Just a one shot, an extension of the original movie ending.

Summary: Harry reflects on his experiences and his relationship with his father at the end scene in Spider-man. Movieverse but a slightly AU interpretation.

Note to readers of "Brave Prince": It's coming along but the computer has deleted my latest chapter and it's quite a setback. I will have to rewrite it.

Harry stood there in front of his father's grave. He wanted to say that it didn't happen. That it wasn't true. But he was past the stage of denial. He had only said it in the first place to make himself feel better but he knew that it was true. His father had always complained that he was weak. But now his father was dead. And what hurt Harry the most was that he had truly believed that his father was changing.

His father hadn't always been loving to him. Harry remembers the nights when he had felt really disappointed. No, that wasn't the right word. He hated his father. He hated him for not being there. He remembered how his father said that he would be there to see him get an award for being the top in his grade. Harry had won the award to please him, to try to get his father to love him. He had been that naïve. Norman Osborn didn't even turn up to the awards presentation ceremony. He didn't pick his son up after school that day. Norman had been doing a business meeting. The company had always taken precedence over him. His father had left him standing there by the side of the road. Harry had clutched onto the award with tears sliding down his cheeks. He didn't feel happy for himself. The award. The teachers' praise. All of it was worthless. He had wanted his father's approval.

Harry remembered when his father first commended him for making it to the varsity soccer team. The happiness had been short lived. Not long after that incident, his father had disappointed him again. Or perhaps he had disappointed his father. He'd lost the game. But as usual, Norman didn't turn up. Harry didn't know why he had even hoped that his father would come. He didn't know why he made the soccer team. He didn't know why he played game after game, winning but feeling nothing but emptiness.

Then, Peter came along. Peter Parker who lived with his Aunt and Uncle. Harry remembered the way that Peter used to talk about his folks. Harry envied Peter. Harry had everything that he wanted, his father could afford to get him all the latest sports equipment, that new computer game even a whole wing in the Osborn mansion for his sixteenth birthday. His father gave him all the money that he asked for. But Harry could never get what Peter had. Peter knew that his Aunt and Uncle loved him. Even his father paid attention to him. There was something Peter had that Harry knew that he couldn't buy. Something that he could never have.

Harry remembered how his father had disapproved of Mary Jane. They had broken up shortly after the 'thanksgiving incident' as he had come to mentally refer it. His father had been his idol and he had never doubted whether his father was right. Harry had only questioned his own actions and his own strength. He should have done more but it was too late.

Another memory seeped into his mind. His father promised him that he would make it up to him. His father had paid attention to him. Harry had thought that his father had changed. His father had actually cared about him and his happiness. Harry could not be more elated. It was this memory that burned into Harry's mind. His father had acted so much like the loving father he saw in his dreams. His dreams that came to haunt him long after the tears had dried.

Spider-man had taken everything he had ever wanted and Harry vowed to himself that he would make Spider-man pay. Life was so cruel. It would play with you but it could so easily take back what you have in an instant. Harry entertained himself with thoughts of torturing Spider-man, that creature which had shattered his dreams. But for his father, he wouldn't cry. He would give him that much. After all, he had come to pay his respects to him. It would be what his father would have wanted – him to be the strong son he always wanted.

For now, Harry stood in front of his father's grave. The trees around him bent as the strong winds continued to blow. The auburn autumn leaves, scattered across the grey marble gravestone. As Harry stood there, reluctant memories crept into his mind, one after the other. Time passed. It was now late in the afternoon, the tree's silhouette had elongated. It's dark shape fell across Harry but he was still lost in his thoughts. Harry saw nothing but his father's gravestone marker, his face hidden by the shadow. His father, once again, had left him standing there but this time Harry had nothing to clutch onto. Except revenge.

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