A/N: This world belongs to JKR.
Written for The Houses Competition by MoonlightForgotten. Necessary information is at the bottom.
Their Beautiful Disaster
In the aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts, the grief and desperation was palpable. Loved ones were drawn to each other to either mourn the loss of another, or to rejoice at their mutual survival. There was a quiet understanding that the world would not be the same again. The funny thing about this realization, is that it rarely processes neatly.
While the others were enveloped in hugs and tears, Hermione Granger crept silently away to the one place she'd always known to bring her comfort: the library. The devastation of the great stone corridors and the towering bookcases was less than she had expected considering the damage to the rest of the castle. Still, she couldn't help a small gasp when she saw the burning volumes amongst the rubble.
Settling her resolve, she began the arduous process of cleaning and repairing what she could. Feeling the sting of magic so potently, she did what she could manually, and only resorted to spells when everything that could be done by hand had been done. She knew it would be a long time before she could accept that she wasn't to blame for this war.
Of course, she knew in her head that that was silly—it wasn't her fault that Muggle-borns existed, nor was it wrong that they did. But seeing so much death and destruction in the name of a purity she couldn't claim to possess was certainly heartbreaking, and guilt weighed heavily on her mind. That was why she had wanted to escape the others in the first place. She was glad to have Ron by her side, but he was a Weasley and his obligations were to his mourning family. Besides, he probably wouldn't understand the guilt, and she needed to process it.
Bracing herself against a particularly heavy piece of stone, she pushed hard, grunting with exertion. Although its shift was infinitesimal, it had shifted, and Hermione was hopeful she could move it further. As she adjusted her grip, a second pair of hands joined hers. They were familiar and worn and much more grown up than she'd realized.
"Harry," she gasped, surprised to see the Boy Who Lived Again in the library.
His face was ruddy, no doubt from both the blasts and from laying apparently dead at the feet of a madman for a good part of the evening. A grim expression was set on his mouth and his firm eyes were liquid with the same sort of tears Hermione had been desperately holding back. She realized suddenly that Harry would understand better than anyone.
The guilt, the pain, the painful associations to the Muggle world. Harry understood all of it.
Nodding to each other, they locked their grip on the stone and pushed, heaving it out of the way. That job done, they went on to the next. Harry didn't ask about her Muggle methods and Hermione didn't explain. She didn't need to tell him what sort of pain magic had caused; he knew better than almost anyone.
Without a word, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger cleared the library and eventually restored it entirely. It was the first part of Hogwarts to be recovered from the war and stood as a living testimony to the strength of pain and friendship, and the solidarity that exists between two people. When the job was finished and they stood together in the middle of the room, looking around, it only seemed natural for Hermione to slip one hand into Harry's.
He held it for just a moment and it they each drew strength from the touch. Guilt and frustration and anger seemed to melt away and for just a moment, everything was okay. Harry broke the touch first, turning to look at Hermione. Slowly and so softly, he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek, before stepping back and walking out.
They didn't say anything about any of it afterwards, but whenever either of them had the opportunity to return to Hogwarts, even years later, they always visited the library.
House: Ravenclaw
Category: Drabble
Prompt: Harry/Hermione
W/C: 676