Day 18 for Countdown to Christmas
Prompt:
Santa Claus
Warning: Contains hints of suicide...
Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own Harry Potter.
For ten years Harry dressed up as Santa Claus for his children, just so he could put a smile on their face. He tried to do everything to keep his kids happy.
For ten years Hermione watched as he grew more and more depressed.
No one saw it coming. Even Ginny, his supposed beloved wife, was too busy with her Quidditch career to notice the aftermath of the Second War still weigh down on Harry's shoulders. The guilt weighing him down more and more everyday, until finally he couldn't take it.
The adults had told all the kids in the family that someone had tried to poison Daddy/Uncle Harry. That's why he was in St. Mungo's. They had even tried to convince themselves that he had been poisoned, because technically he had. Just not because of someone else's doing.
Hermione, being the only Muggleborn out of the group, knew that it hadn't been an accident. Where he had even gotten the Muggle pills, she didn't know. She also didn't know why he did it. Hermione knew he hadn't been happy, but why did he ever think it was okay to leave his family, his friends. Her.
Despite it, Hermione still found herself in his room at St. Mungo's. All by herself as the Weasleys were trying to get their minds off of it, bringing their kids to a Muggle zoo.
"Oh, Harry," she whispered, walking closer to the unconscious figure. She wiped the hair away from his face, revealing the scar that was a reminder of what had started all of his pain and suffering. "Why did you try to leave me." Hermione, not surprisingly, got no answer. She spent another hour sitting by his side in silence.
"We need you to wake up, Harry. It's almost Christmas. Who's going to dress up as Santa Claus for the kids this year?" she asked tearfully.
"Harry. Please." Hermione put her head into her hands, and started sobbing. A few minutes later (although it felt like hours), she felt a hand on her shoulder.
"Ma'am, I'm sorry, but visiting times are over," she heard a Healer say.
Hermione stiffly nodded, and got up to leave the room, not daring to look at Harry again in fear of having another wave of tears come out.
"You'll come back to us. Because that's the right thing and you always do the right thing. You'll come back to us, I just know it. You have too."
And even though it took until after Christmas for Harry to come home, he did come back to them, just never the same. No laughs, no jokes, no smiles. Ginny did her best to make him happy, and his kids avoided him.
Needless to say, Harry Potter wasn't the same person, The Chose One, as he once was.
Goodness. I have no idea why this was so depressing. I just wrote what came out of my head.