Author's note: Nothing's real. It's all made up. The characters belong to JK Rowling.
Three years it's been. Three years since I've killed Voldemort; three years since I've seen any of my friends; three years since I did magic. Three years I managed to hide myself from the magical world. Those three years were the best of my life. No maniac out to kill me; no one that expected anything from me and most of all no one gawking at that ugly scar that covers half of my face.
And now I'm back. Stupid, I know. I can already see you thinking: if you're so happy to be away from all that, why the hell do you even bother to come back? Good question. Let me answer that for you. Apparently I wasn't as well hidden as I though I was. Hermione found out where I live. I'm sure she found out long ago, but now she actually had a reason to contact me: Ron has died. She wants me at the funeral of her husband and would really like it if I went to visit the Weasleys as well. So here I am, outside the burrow. I didn't quite manage to knock yet. Something's holding me back. Maybe the fact that I left the magical world without saying goodbye to my best friends? I'm pretty sure they were seriously pissed at me after that. Not that I would really know, as I wasn't there to see it.
I manage to convince myself that standing outside the burrow for the rest of the day is not an option, and softly knock on the door. I stop breathing for a second as I hear footsteps approaching. Gods, why am I this nervous? It's the Weasleys, they're practically family. No need to be nervous about that. Right? The door flies open, revealing Molly.
"Harry?" Her eyes fill with tears. I nod slowly and let myself be hugged. "It's been so long." By now she's sobbing uncontrollable.
"I know, Molly, and I'm sorry but I had to get out." She shakes her head.
"Don't appologize. I completely understand that you didn't want to stay. But why didn't you say anything." She holds me at arm length and inspects me. "You look good. I was already afraid you'd look like someone who just came back from Azkaban." She pulls me closer again, hugging me tightly. "Ron would've loved to see you again. He missed you so much."
As she says this a huge wave of guilt crashes over me. Call me selfish, but I don't want to be confronted with the fact that I left them all behind.
"There didn't pass a day that I didn't think about you all, but I couldn't come back, Molly. Try to understand that." She nods against my chest.
"Don't worry, sweety. We don't blame you for anything. And we completely understand. But I..." She stops for a second to take a deep breath. "But I would give the world just to see you guys laughing and joking around again for just one more time."
At that I don't know what to say. I hug her a bit closer to me before pushing her back a bit. "Maybe we should go inside." She looks around as if she just realises now that we are in fact still outside. Nodding, she leads me inside.
Awkward is the only word that describes how I feel right now. Sitting right there, staring at me, is Ginny.
"Hey, Ginny." I whisper, not knowing what else to say. Nex thing I know she's standing right in front of me and slaps me across the face.
"If you hadn't left, he wouldn't have died! You could've saved him." Tears are streaming down her cheeks and with one final push against my shoulder she walks out of the room.
The next couple of hours kind of pass in a blur. All I really remember from it is sitting in the couch, staring out in front of me. By the time I seem to snap out of it, it's already 4am and Hermione has just arrived. I rub my eyes tiredly and can't help but wonder once again why I bothered to come back. The guilt I'm feeling seems to build up every minute that I'm sitting here, I feel completely out of place, and even though the Weasleys are really trying to be nice, I can feel that they don't all accept my sudden appearance as Molly does.
I can hear Hermione talk in the kitchen with Molly. Finally finding the courage, I push myself up off the couch and walk to the kitchen. As I'm getting closer, I can hear them talking about the funeral. I take a couple of steps back, feeling like I shouldn't bother them when they're talking about such an important matter. But then again, Hermione did ask me to come over, so she does want me here. I rub my eyes once again before coming into their view. Molly is the first to notice me and stops talking.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you." I quickly turn around again before Hermione's voice stops me.
"Harry, you're not bothering us." Her voice sounds tired and I can tell she's just been crying even without looking at her face. Three guesses how I'm feeling. That's right: guilty. Ginny's words still echo in my mind. If I hadn't left, he wouldn't have died. Could she be right?The silence is once again broken by Hermione's tired voice.
"Look at me?" It's not an order, more a question. Slowly I turn around and lift my head, looking straight into her eyes. My throat is starting to close up. I get the feeling that I can hardly breathe. Why am I putting myself through this? I could've been home; oblivious to everything.
"I'm sorry, Hermione." I don't even know what I'm apologising for. For leaving? For not being there when Ron apparently needed me? For being here now, when it's too late?
She shakes her head and takes a step closer, putting her hand on my arm. "I missed you." It's like she's afraid to say those words.
"I missed you too." At those words she finally hugs me, sobbing her heart out. I just hold her. What else can I do? I get the strange urge to say 'Don't worry 'Mione, everything will be all right.' but even I don't believe those words, so why would I say them out loud? In fact, it seems more like everything is once again royally messed up. Hours pass, I just can't seem to let go of her. I didn't lie. I really did miss her. And still I get the urge to just run out of there. When did I end up such a coward? I used to be able to face my problems and now... now all I want to do is run and hide. Crawl back under what ever rock I've been hiding under for the past three years.
By the time we let go of each other, it's already dark outside. Molly has left us alone, it's just us now in the kitchen. In a way it's comforting to be alone with her. During the war we spent hours together, just the two of us, either researching what ever had to be researched at that time, talking about everything and nothing, or just sitting in complete silence. Like now.
I can't say I never thought about those days. Even though there was a war going on, I was quite happy. If it had just been Hermione and Ron in my life, I would've never fled. It's all the rest of the world that made me do it. All those reporters and photographers, all those people on the street acting like they know me just because they've read a book about me. Why couldn't everyone be like Hermione and Ron? Why couldn't everyone just accept me as a simple boy who tried to survive? I'm not sure, if I could turn back time, what exactly I'd do. Stay? Or run again? 'If you hadn't left, he wouldn't have died' Those words once again echo in my mind, and suddenly I realise I haven't even asked yet what happened.
"Hermione?" She looks up at me. Her eyes are red and swollen, but she smiles a little. "What exactly happened to him?" She laughs dryly, brushing a tear off her cheek.
"He got killed during a mission. He was an auror, you know. It took him quite a while to get there, but he did. He was so happy. And now..." Her voice breaks again and she stops talking.
I look down at my hands and start to understand what Ginny meant. Ron and I used to talk about being aurors all the time. If I hadn't left, I would've been an auror as well. I could really have saved him. The guilt I've been feeling for the past hours, suddenly increases enormously.
"It's my fault." Hermione slaps me across the face after I said those words. Gods, what is it with women and slapping me?
"Don't you ever blame yourself for what happened! You didn't kill him, so nothing is your fault! The only one to blame is the person who cast that spell! Who ever that might be..." She heads for the door and turns around one more time. "Molly thought you wouldn't like to sleep in Ron's room. She set up a bed in the living room. The funeral's tomorrow. After that you can do what ever you want. Leave or stay. The choice is yours."