A/N : Hi! I don't own anything, so please don't sue me!
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Harry Potter was exhausted.
Coming from someone who had done and seen and not slept as much as the dark-haired teen had, this was saying something.
Until this very moment, Harry realized, he had not known what being truly tired was.
This was a tired that went beyond not having slept in some thirty hours; this tired ate at his very core. It came from grief and hunger, relief and pain.
As the trio exited the headmaster's study, Harry looked at his two best friends. Hermione had tear tracks through the dirt and grime on her face. Her brown eyes were glazed with fatigue. Her clothing was filthy and singed in places.
Ron looked much the same as Hermione. Harry knew that Ron's grief of losing his brother must be terrible, and when the boys made eye contact over Hermione's head between them, Harry could see the sadness in Ron's blue eyes, but he also saw relief there, something he felt sure was mirrored in his own gaze.
The three of them walked through the mostly ruined castle to Gryffindor tower, not speaking much on the way. However, Hermione had wrapped an arm tightly around each boy's waist, as though afraid she would lose them if she could not feel them physically.
Harry and Ron reciprocated the contact, each slinging an arm around Hermione's shoulders. Though neither of them would never admit it aloud, they were both immensely comforted by the feel of the other's arm against their own.
When they finally reached the Fat Lady's portrait, she was nowhere to be found but the passageway was open, so they stepped through it single-file, Harry in front and Ron bringing up the rear.
They stepped into the common room and Harry heard Hermione sob. He hadn't even seen her begin to cry. He and Ron looked at each other again, both at a loss of what to do.
Finally, Ron took Hermione's hand and guided her to a sofa in front of the fire. The three of them sat down, Hermione in the middle, and sank into the cushions.
Finally, Hermione spoke through her tears. "I'm sorry. It's just... I didn't expect it to look so... The same. It shouldn't be. Everything is different. But this room, it's completely unchanged. It took me by surprise."
Harry thought she had a point. He too had expected the room to look different, but aside from a few broken windows, it looked just how he remembered it from the previous year.
Quite suddenly, Harry was shaken out of his reverie by Hermione slapping his shoulder. Hard.
"Ouch!" he cried, looking from her to Ron incredulously. "What on earth was that for?"
"You died, Harry. You died. How could you do that to us? What were you thinking?" Hermione was crying again, and Harry didn't know what to do. Ron, however, gathered her into his arms and stroked her hair, looking at Harry again.
"I'm sorry," said Harry, reaching out to touch her shoulder. "I knew that if I found you before I did it, I'd never go. I'm so sorry, Hermione. But I'm here now. Its... Well, it's not okay now. But it will be. We'll be okay."
And this time when Ron looked at him, he knew he was forgiven. The redhead's eyes were full of tears, and so were Harry's, but they nodded at each other and they both understood.
Hermione took a while to calm down, and when she finally did, she giggled. "I can't believe it," she said. "What now?"
Ron let out a long breath through his nose. "We sleep," he yawned. "Then we figure out what to do with our lives."
"We shower, then we sleep," amended Hermione, wrinkling her nose. "You two stink."
They laughed and gathered clean clothing from Hermione's bag, showering quickly and returning to the common room, where Hermione was waiting with a blanket on the same sofa they had vacated previously; they all seemed to have silently agreed, just like the first night at Grimmauld Place, that they would be sleeping in the same room. After all they had been through, that was going to be a tough habit to break. Harry vaguely wondered if he would ever again be able to sleep without the two of them near him.
Hermione had started a fire in the fireplace; it was crackling merrily. The sound was comforting.
The boys sat down on either side of her, and she rested her head on Ron's shoulder and stretched her legs out across Harry's lap while Ron threw the blanket across them. Ron put an arm around Hermione's waist and Harry leaned against her shoulder that wasn't pressed against Ron.
"We're alive," Harry marveled aloud. "We did it. We made it. We're alive." He felt Hermione press a kiss to his damp hair and Ron grasp his wrist tightly and hold on. Hermione took one of Ron's hands and one of Harry's and laced her fingers with theirs.
Thank God thank God thank God, Harry thought, squeezing Hermione's hand. We're here and we're alive and we're together. Thank God.
Yes, he was grieving for Fred and Tonks and Remus and countless other lives lost- he would probably always be grieving in some form or another.
But right then, with his two best friends, his brother and sister in everything but blood, tangled together on that couch, falling into their first peaceful sleep in almost a year, Harry Potter couldn't find it in himself to be anything but thankful.
A/N 2: Thanks for reading! Love it? Hate it? Let me know!
-Brittany