As the sun rose over Hogwarts, the people inside celebrated the fall of the Dark Lord. Harry was an integral part of that celebration. People from all over came up to him to shake his hand or to thank him. He knew he should have felt euphoric from the victory and a sense of belonging from the masses, yet all he felt was empty. Everyone wanted to shake the hand of the boy-who-lived (though he supposed it would soon turn in to some other ridiculous moniker, like the man-who-won). Everyone wanted to congratulate the victor. Yet not a single person crowding around knew him as Harry, as the scared little boy who knew far too little about the big world of magic. To the masses, he was a symbol rather than a real person. yet integral part? not quite. everyone wanted to shake the hand of the boy who lived, but not harry. Just-Harry wasn't important. Just-Harry wasn't the hero they wanted. He watched the Malfoys huddled together, unsure if they should be there, but surrounded by other Slytherins who had changed sides. His eyes trailed around the room and caught the Weasleys, welcoming home one son and mourning the loss of another. Although he had always thought of the Weasleys as his family, he felt distant right now. He could never join them for this, could never share this moment with them when he was responsible. If it weren't for the war, Fred would still be alive. They had not been in the group to rush over to him, instead finding a spot off to the side. He didn't feel like family at that moment.
He collapsed on the bench next to Luna.
"I'd want some peace and quiet, if it were me," she said.
"I'd love some," he replied wearily.
"I'll distract them all," she said. "Use your Cloak."
And before he could say a word she had cried, "Oooh, look, a Blibbering Humdinger!" and pointed out of the window. Everyone who heard looked around, and Harry slid the Cloak up over himself, and got to his feet.
He briefly thought about grabbing his friends, but Ron was busy with his family. He thought Hermione would want to stay with her boyfriend. He stalked out into the great hall. He had intended to go up to Dumbledore's office to talk to his portrait, but now it no longer seemed like a good idea. The castle was littered with bloodstains and broken memories, and Harry knew he needed to get out. He strode though the busted out doors and made his way over the spell-tilled and broken ground until he reached the lake. It was peaceful out here, and though the castle and land behind him were marred, the lake was not. His favorite rock was still there, his reflection was still there, the underlying tranquility was still there. He vaguely wondered how long it would take for someone to find him. He wished he had family, but having family meant he could lose them.
It wasn't hard to feel abandoned and alone again. He had truly thought that one day he would be a part of the Weasley family, yet he knew it wasn't true. At best, he would be taking their daughter away and making her a Potter. He wondered if that was what had attracted him to her- the chance of officially being part of her family. It was a fairy tale, and one that was crashing in around him. He supposed he should have known. It wasn't like any of the Weasleys had helped him after Cedric's death. They hadn't even mentioned anything after Sirius's death. Yet they responded like this to Fred's death. They came together and mourned. He knew that were his mother still alive, she would have sat by his bed at night after Sirius's death, would have sat with him and made him talk about Cedric's death. Yet not one of the Weasleys did so. It was time, he realized abjectly, that he stop trying to adopt his way into a family. He had had a family, and they had died in the war protecting him. No, it was time to make his own family.
Hermione found him that way not too long after.
"Shouldn't you be with Ron and his family?" Harry asked, his voice laced with bitterness.
"They're not my family," she said smartly. "I believe they made that perfectly clear."
He scooted over to allow her room to sit down on the rock beside him. She sat and reached into her purse, finally pulling out several sticky buns wrapped in napkins.
"I saw Kreatcher on the way out to find you. He thought you might be hungry."
Harry smiled gratefully and took the proffered food. They sat quietly, munching on the food. The calm was much needed after the chaos of the past year, and the two lapped it up.
Finally, Harry looked over at his best friend.
"Are you going to tell him?" he asked softly.
"It's silly, but I don't think I will," Hermione answered.
"Why not? You two have liked each other for ages!"
"You know, I don't think we have. In fourth year, he didn't even know I was a girl. In fifth year, he was too busy slacking on his prefect's duties to take an interest. Sixth year, he was petty and rubbed his relationship in my face. Disregarding the last part of sixth year, that isn't the actions of a guy who likes a girl. He can only pull her pigtails for so long before he has to grow up."
Aside from that, I'm not sure I'm ready to go back."
Harry watched as her eyes flashed dangerously.
"He left us when the going got tough this year. He completely bailed on us, and expected a simple 'Hey' to make everything right again. Harry, so much has been glossed over since then. We never talked about him leaving after he came back. I think I was so relieved that he came back that I didn't want to question it in case he took off again. Now, I don't have that luxury. The war is over, and I don't have anything barring me from asking the difficult questions anymore." She shivered and broke off.
Harry reached out and rubbed her shoulders reassuringly.
"What are the difficult questions?" he asked.
"There is really just one right now," she said softly. "Will he abandon me again?"
Harry opened his mouth, whether to defend one friend or reassure the other he didn't know. It didn't matter, since he didn't have the chance to speak. Hermione softly cut him off.
"Harry, you know it's true,"she said sadly. "First year, he was the reason I was in the bathroom when the troll came. Third year, he left me over the broom, and then over Scabbers. Fourth year, he left me because I believed you, then because I went to the ball with Krum, and insulted me in the process. He's never apologized. Sixth year, he bailed on us for Lavender. That wasn't the worst, but it still hurt. And seventh year, he left us in the forest because he couldn't handle it. That doesn't bode well for a successful romance in the future. I think I'll always be waiting for him to leave me again."
Harry pulled her into a hug. He knew she was resolved. Once she determined something, she'd follow it through. He felt bad for Ron. Ron had lost the best thing he could have without ever realizing he'd thrown it away.
"Why aren't you with Ginny?" Hermione asked, her voice muffled in his jacket.
"She's with her family."
"And?" she prompted.
"And they aren't my family."
"Harry…"
"No. It's true," he said calmly. "They don't want me there right now. They're welcoming back Percy and mourning Fred. They don't want me around. One, I'm responsible. Two, I would be an unwelcome distraction."
"Harry, why do you believe that you're responsible?" she asked, pulling back to look at him. It took him a moment to compose his thoughts.
"Hermione, we lost too many to count. Not all of them are in the Great Hall, either. We've lost so many during the past two or three years. If I'd had any idea where the horcruxes were earlier, if I'd tried to find out from him sooner, maybe so many wouldn't have died. Maybe Fred would be sitting in the Great Hall with Fred, planning out their next prank. Remus and Tonks might be heading home to their son. This was my war, and I wish I could have taken care of it sooner."
"There isn't any way you could have. If you had tried anything sooner, Tom might have found out and made more, or might have hid the others he had made. You did the best that any of us could have done."
He leaned against her as she threw her arms around him. He always felt better whenever she hugged him.
"Why do you think the Weasleys aren't your family?"
He looked at her questioningly. "Didn't you say the same thing earlier?"
"Oh I did. I was pushed off to the side in there. But this isn't about me, it's about you. I want to know why you feel that way."
He sighed, watching the water lapping its way to the shore. She waited patiently.
"The summer before second year, my uncle put several locks on my door and had bars installed on my windows. Ron and the twins rescued me, pulling the bars out of the window. We flew to their house, bars dangling behind us."
Hermione was horrified but knew if she cut him off, he'd never start this story again.
"When Molly scolded them, they told her about the bars. What would your parents have done?"
"They would be required to report that by law. They would have wanted to anyway."
"Molly just gave me more food. She never said that was wrong. As far as I know, she never told anyone. They had the proof attached to the back of their car, but no one ever tried to get me away from the Dursleys. She only mothered me in the wrong situations. She never objected to any of the situations we got into over the years for any reason other than that I was too young, excluding flying the car, which was problematic to Arthur. She always sent me a cake for my birthday and a Christmas present, but she never sent me any other mail, any letters. I would have loved to get a letter."
"The thing that really bothers me is how they treated Fleur. She was a Champion, gorgeous, and a great witch, yet they called her Phlegm. She'd come to a different country to stay close to their son, but they treated her like dragon dung. That isn't the way you treat your son's fiancé! That isn't the way you treat family."
Hermione agreed.
"It may have been her Veela charm that had some influence in the way they were treating her," she reasoned.
"Ginny and Mrs. Weasley both treated her that way when she wasn't around too. Look, Ginny is great. I had a great time dating her and I missed her while I was away. But honestly, I don't think I'd ever truly belong. I would only be taking their only daughter away and making her a Potter, something they wouldn't truly accept anyway. They have six sons. They want everyone to stay a Weasley, but not necessarily the spouses. I just don't think I would be a part of their family, especially if I wasn't already."
"That explains why you aren't ready to marry her, but not why you don't want to date her again," Hermione told him. "What else is going on?"
"There are certain things I can't share with her," Harry said somberly. "I never want to talk about certain parts of the war again. We're supposed to be equals, but there are things I can't share with her. but I'm not sure she will understand that. She'll push until she knows everything. No one needs to know about the lengths Tom went to in order to make himself immortal, not even her. I don't want to share the time we spent in the woods wearing the locket. I don't want her to know I was a horcurx. I think she might leave me over that. I would be too close to Tom from the diary. I don't want everyone to turn their backs on me."
"Ill never abandon you," Hermione promised. And Harry knew she wouldn't. She had been there with him all along.
"You know, Hermione, you're a girl," he said, grinning cheekily at her.
"Oh you," she said, swatting at him playfully.
"Seriously."
"Yes, I do have two X chromosomes."
"That wasn't quite what I meant."
"If you're going to tease me, you should try harder," she said matter-of-factly, quirking up an eyebrow.
He grinned.
"Who said I was teasing you?"
She looked at him expectantly. He nervously ran a hand over his hair.
"Why haven't we ever tried dating before?" he asked quickly before he could lose the nerve. Hermione's eyes widened and he mentally smacked himself.
"Ron said you only thought of me as a sister."
"He'd made it clear he liked you. I didn't want to drive a wedge into our friendship or cause him to run off again. I just thought he was who you wanted."
"Harry, do you remember Christmas Eve," she asked suddenly.
"Only too well," he breathed.
"Not the later part. Early that night at the graveyard. I pretended I was married to you. I wouldn't do that for someone I didn't care about."
"Why didn't you ever say anything?"
"I didn't think you felt the same."
"Every girl I ever dated saw it. I think Fleur even saw it. She mentioned something while we were staying there hinting to it. I thought you would see it as well," He told her seriously. "Maybe I expected you to admit to it too, which certainly wasn't fair of me. For that, I'm sorry."
"Harry," she started to argue, but he stopped her, his hand brushing against her cheek.
"No Hermione. I'm sorry. I have no idea where else my heart could have been."
And then he was kissing her, his mouth brushed against hers, and it all clicked into place. It was like stepping into a hot bath from the freezing cold. Warmth squeezed him and washed over him, wrapping him up in a cocoon of warmth while shivers, dancing electric tingles caressed every surface, body and soul.He needn't imagine it anymore; it all was real.
They broke apart much later. It hadn't taken long to decide that trying out a relationship together was worth the risk. They'd made it though the worst possibilities, always together. The sun was setting as they finally made their way back up to the castle, hand in hand. Harry looked down at Hermione, her hair glowing softly with the final wash of the sun, and smiled. Dusk was falling, but he knew he would have a new tomorrow with her.
Fin.
This was my first attempt at writing a Harmony story. I wrote this for the Big/Lil' Sister competition on HPFC. The prompts used were: Word- dusk, Song-Dust Bowl Dance by Mumford & Sons, Phrase- too many to count, Emotion- calm, and the dialogue choice- "Are you going to tell him?".
One thing worth noting: I am not a Weasley hater. I genuinely like most of the Weasleys, including Ginny. I think Ron needs some sense smacked into him at times, but so do many teenage boys- too many to count. My muse just wouldn't let me get away from this idea.