Back Home

"The mourning, the funerals, the rebuilding—most of that is done and over. It's all over. But it doesn't feel over to him." Harry and three conversations. Post-war, pre-epilogue. For Rachel.

i. Ron

It begins, as many things do, with a midnight conversation.

Since the war, Harry and Ron and Hermione have developed a habit of sleeping over together at the Burrow. It's innocent, just sleeping. After everything that's happened, they have trouble sleeping alone. And they're always welcome at the Burrow.

It's a Friday night, just Ron and him. Hermione recently found her parents in Australia and is spending the night with them. So it's just them in his old room in the middle of the night, Ron in the bed and Harry in the sleeping bag. Harry can hear Ron contentedly snoring above him, but for some reason Harry can't sleep tonight.

He stares at the ceiling, at the walls, at the Chudley Cannon posters whose bright orange is visible even in the dim moonlight that filters through the window. He tries counting sheep, counting dots, counting bats or whatever. But it's just one of those nights when he can't sleep.

He decides that he needs to get up, so he sneaks out of bed as quietly as possible, being careful not to wake up Ron. Maybe after a bit of walking or a drink of water or something, he'll be able to come back and go to sleep.

He hears Ron grunt and freezes in mid-movement, wondering if he's woken his friend up. But then he hears Ron's steady breathing again and figures that he's going to be fine. He stands up and heads for the door.

"Where're you going, Harry?"

His heart nearly leaps out of his chest. "Merlin's pants, Ron, I thought you were asleep!"

"I was, until you woke me up," Ron says, sounding slightly annoyed. "What's wrong?"

"Just couldn't sleep," he answers with a shrug. "I was going to go down for a drink of water or something."

Ron grunts or something, and Harry waits until his friend's breathing slows down again. He's sure that Ron has bought his excuse and is now sound asleep when he hears a loud sigh from the pillow. "Harry, what's the real reason?

"What do you mean?" he asks innocently, although he knows he's been busted. Ron's usually been able to tell whenever something's up, and they've gotten better at gauging each other's emotions after… everything.

"Alright," Harry says with a sigh, "it's not that big of a deal. It's just that, well, do you ever wonder?"

"Wonder what?"

"What we do now. Now that everything's back to normal."

Ron shifts over in his sleeping bag to face him and smiles. "I thought you were happy to lead a normal life. Can't be any worse than some of the stuff we've gone through."

"Yeah, I guess," Harry replies, although he doesn't sound particularly convinced.

"Come on, Harry," says Ron. "It's over. Be happy about that."

ii. Ginny

The next morning, he meet Ginny downstairs, who gives him a hug and a list.

"Ready for a shopping spree?" she teases. "That' the list for the Hogwarts supplies we need. School begins in two weeks, can you believe it?"

He smiles halfheartedly. He's thinking about his conversation with Ron last night. There's been this lingering broody feeling around him for the past few days that hasn't left, like an itch he can't reach.

"Harry, what's wrong? Shopping isn't that bad," she says, trying to joke with him.

"I guess it's just weird doing something as normal as Hogwarts shopping after everything," he says, trying to sound light and casual. Ginny doesn't buy into it, though.

"Normal's good, isn't it?" She looks up at him, searching his eyes anxiously.

"It won't really be normal, though," he mumbles to himself.

Ginny, however, catches it and bites her lip. "Harry, if you're worried about you being one year older than the rest of us Seventh Years, it's not that big of a deal. Lots of—well, a decent number—of families went into hiding last year so there'll be loads of kids like that."

"It's not that, Ginny."

"Then what is it?"

"I... don't know," he says.

iii. Hermione

Shopping that day goes off without a hitch. He follows along Ginny and Ron with his hands in his pockets, while the other two bounce along from shop to shop. He tries not to brood so much—what is he worried about anyway? The mourning, the funerals, the rebuilding—most of that is done and over. It's all over. But it doesn't feel over to him, and normal feels strange, foreign, not right.

He wishes he could talk to someone about it, but everyone else seems so happy that he doesn't want to ruin it with his unnecessary worries. Ron's words from that midnight conversation ring in his head. What now?

"Harry, Mrs. Weasley wants to know if you're coming down for dinner." Someone's voice drifts from the stairs, but he doesn't answer. "Harry?" He hears the door to the room creak open. "Harry."

He turns around and is stunned to see a familiar bushy-haired brunette. "Hermione? I thought you were with your parents!" Hermione's been rare sight at the Burrow lately—she moved in with her parents a week ago

"I, um, couldn't do it," she says, looking slightly embarrassed. "My parents, they, well, they don't understand. I just felt kind of... lost there, I guess. Everything's different, but they're trying to act like it's all normal, and it's—I couldn't do it." She looks down, ashamed. It's silent for a while. He's not sure what to say, except—

"You feel like that too?"

Hermione turns to him, smiles slightly. "So that's what you've been feeling. Ginny and Ron and I, we were getting worried."

"I just feel like things aren't really normal. It's kind of all surreal."

"Harry, you spent seven years of your life on a mission to kill Lord Voldemort. Now it's over, and it makes sense that you're having trouble believing it."

"It's not just that. It's kind of like, I'm not even sure what to do anymore." He thinks about his conversation with Ron, what he had said that night about being excited to lead a normal life, and thinks about what he would say now.

"Harry, I'm sure that whatever you do, you'll be amazing at it. This story you—we—have been a part of will live long in he minds of men. And Harry?" She smiles. "It's not over yet."

whattheheck was this

This was me trying to write my October fic for the deadline, that's what it was. Sorry, NaNoWriMo is next month so I'm rushing with everything else in preparation. T_T

Sorry for OOCmoody!Harry and like the utter boringness of this. I hope you read it anyway, Rachel, and maybe one day I'll write you a better fic to make up for this crabazoid.