Hey guys:D. This story is titled "The Day After" and, of course, is about the day following Voldemort's death. Woo. I understand that this chapter doesn't seem happy or cheerful...at all, but in the following chapters, it does brighten up a bit. Trust me, I've already written them. I'm going to release each chapter a few days apart so I can keep you waiting:D. I'm not going to beg you to rate, but I think it would be a nice thing of you to do. I really want some helpful critizism, so please don't hesitate on giving me any. Anways, enjoy the story, everyone:D.
Oh, and no matter how many times I wish at 11:11, Harry Potter is not, and will never be, mine.
Harry Potter awoke with a start. A nightmare involving flashes of green light and terrified screams quickly faded from his memory. His emerald green eyes danced about the scarlet draping surrounding the bed he lay in. The mattress beneath him felt unfamiliar and uncomfortable, like wearing a jacket that hasn't seen the outside of its closet since the winter before. Harry struggled to realize why he felt so relieved and devastated at the same; screwing up his face in an effort to remember.
He was sure his heart stopped when the memories of that night came into focus. Voldemort's death was only second in importance to the deaths of the fifty-something people who fought to rid the world of such evil. The lost faces swirled into his mind, clouding his every thought, rendering him unable to dwell on the encouraging fact that he had destroyed the most terrible being of all.
"No..." Harry whispered as he saw the body of Lupin in his mind's eye, lying on the cold, hard floor of the Great Hall. A look only the dead possessed was spread across his lined face, proclaiming reality. He was gone.
What about Fred and Tonks? Harry searched his memory and found them both, they were certainly dead. And even Colin Creevey. Harry shuttered as he remembered snapping at him about five years ago. He really ought to have not done that. Colin was just trying to be kind, just wanted to befriend him.
But why would anyone want to become Harry's friend? Almost everyone Harry cared for was lying somewhere, completely lifeless. Earning his friendship would be a death sentence. Harry felt angry and ashamed; had it all really been because of him? Had everyone died because he didn't give himself up earlier? Their deaths felt unnecessary.
Harry couldn't stand the way his sweatpants laid against his legs. He couldn't stand having the very top of his head touch his headboard. He couldn't stand how his right big toe was brushing against the drapes. He couldn't stand anything. He couldn't stand Neville's snores or the absence of Ron's. Ron Weasley was surely awake too; his own brother had been killed.
Harry bolted upright and ripped the drapes open. They had been suffocating him, smothering his thoughts. Maybe his heart would stop pounding against his ribs with them apart. He heard Ron's sudden, fake snores begin. Harry had to squint in the unexpected burst of sunlight against his eyes. He had forgotten that when he fell asleep it was already half an hour, or more, after dawn. He put on his black, round glasses and let the fuzzy room become defined. He looked down at the watch Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had given him for his birthday, searching for some indication of the current time. It was rather confusing to read, or maybe he was just too tired to understand. Harry climbed out of bed and went to the window. It looked to be around nine in the morning, but that thought had left Harry's mind rather quickly. His heart fell as he looked out onto the grounds, which was normally a dazzling, attractive sight, especially in June. But where had all the beauty gone? The castle looked to be in shambles and Harry was surprised it was holding up. There was a collection of witches and wizards on the grounds, using their wands to sweep up debris, and, as Harry noticed, a lifeless body or two. He pulled the curtains on the window together, not wanting to see the faces of the lives lost in case he could recognize them. Harry found himself traveling to the bed in which Ron pretended to be sleeping.
"Ron?" Harry murmured, not wanting to wake the rest of the sleepers. Ron's snoring continued.
"Ron! It's Harry; I know you're not actually asleep, so, c'mon, get up." Harry said in a hushed whisper, and prodded the red-headed boy with his pointer finger. He knew he should have been kinder, but he had the weight of about 50 people's deaths on his shoulders, only one being a death that he didn't mind. Ron's eyelids flew open and looked into Harry's.
"Yes?" Ron muttered back, his eyes as red as his hair. Had he been crying?
"Did it really happen?" Harry asked, letting the first thing on his mind pass his lips.
Ron blinked.
"Did what really happen?"
"Everything," Harry answered simply, feeling rather childish and stupid. Of course it was true; there was no need for his best friend to verify the happenings.
"Harry, I'm going to need more to go on than tha—"
"Fred, Lupin, Tonks," Harry paused before adding "Colin." Harry saw Ron recoil at Fred's name, as though it physically hurt him to hear it.
"They're dead, if that's what you're asking." Ron answered, letting his eyes flutter upwards towards the ceiling.
"Voldemort too?" Harry questioned, steadying himself on one of the banisters of the four-poster bed. He honestly felt like he might topple over with the weight of the casualties pressing down upon him.
"He's finished, mate. And you were the one that finished him." Ron sat up in his bed and looked Harry in the eyes. Harry looked back. There was something different about Ron's expression, something he couldn't put his finger on.
"…You okay?" Harry said. Ron didn't answer, so Harry sat down beside him, somewhat halting the feeling of what it would be like to give Uncle Vernon a piggy-back ride, and spoke again.
"Fred-"
Ron put up his hand to silence Harry.
"Not now. Not yet. Later." Ron said simply, not sounding angry, just pained. He slid back down under his covers and resumed staring at the ceiling. A minute's silence followed.
"Alright," Harry finally spoke, getting off the bed. The feeling of a heavy weight on his shoulders returned and Harry yearned for it to lift. He was relieved, of course, but somehow it still felt as though Voldemort's demise was all a dream and that only the other deaths, the deaths of those who sacrificed themselves to fight the darkest wizard of all time, were reality.
"He's not coming back, is he?" Ron said, breaking the renewed silence. The second after he said it, he seemed to want to take it back, as his face turned pink and he winced. Harry didn't have to ask who Ron was talking about.
"No, Ron, Fred isn't coming back." Harry said flatly. He looked straight at Ron. Harry suddenly understood the unusual look Ron wore. Acceptance and maturity filled every faint line, every freckle, and every feature on his best friend's face. Ron nodded, turned to lie on his side, and closed his eyes. Harry, knowing it was best not to disturb him any further, pulled the burgundy drapes hanging over the bed closed and walked to his own.
As physically and emotionally exhausted as Harry was, he knew that he wouldn't be able to fall back asleep. His mind was whirling and refusing to rest. Harry wanted nothing more than to crawl under the warm covers of his four-poster bed, but he somehow couldn't bring himself to do so. He yawned and decided to go down and visit the common room. Harry took his newly repaired wand from his nightstand and pulled his Invisibility Cloak out from his trunk and threw it over himself. If anyone was down in the common room, there was no way he could be bothered—or noticed. Harry dragged himself down the stairs from the boy's dormitories and entered the inviting, circular, scarlet common room. The seat of Harry's usual plush armchair in the room was draped with red blankets. Maybe he could curl up in them and fall asleep. The castle seemed rather chilly for a day in June. He suspected it was because a side of Hogwarts was blown out entirely that night. Harry was making his way towards the chair when—
"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed, quite startled. He pulled off the Invisibility Cloak and shoved it in the pocket of his pajama bottoms. A girl with bushy, brown hair was sitting in an armchair by one of the windows. She put her finger to her lips, signaling him to be quiet. Hermione then pointed to the bundle of blankets lying in the chair he was previously heading towards. Harry gasped as the blankets shifted, and realized that they were in fact Ginny Weasley in a long, crimson nightgown. Hermione got up from her chair and tiptoed over to him.
"I don't want to wake her, she just feel asleep. Ginny hasn't been feeling her best." Hermione whispered.
"Blimey, I don't blame her." Harry answered, peering around Hermione to get a better view of Ginny. She was curled towards him now, her red hair sprawled across her face, blowing up slightly every time she exhaled.
"Oh Harry, when she thought you were, well,"
"Dead," Harry finished for her.
"Yes, dead. You should have seen her."
"Should I have?" Harry asked, tearing his eyes away from the sleeping Ginny.
"No," Hermione said quickly. "It's just, she was completely beside herself. She was so devastated. And with what happened to Fred-" Hermione's voice cracked. She looked down at her slippers and didn't say any more. Harry bit his lip, suddenly feeling immensely guilty for the pain he had caused Ginny. The weight upon his shoulders seemed to double. He was surprised he wasn't being driven into the ground. Hermione looked up at him, and reading his expression, added,
"Oh Harry, no, don't feel guilty! It's not your fault she's so distressed. It's just been a rough night, you know, for everyone."
Harry sighed and looked back at Ginny. He had remembered when he thought he'd be seeing her for the last time. She had been doing what made her so special, so perfect: She was helping another with their troubles. Harry ran his fingers through his black hair, trying to forget what occurred after that. He didn't want to remember seeing his dead parents, Sirius, or Lupin at the moment.
"I can't believe that it's finally over." whispered Hermione.
"I know what you mean." Harry said as he collapsed into the closest chair. Hermione placed her hand on his armrest and looked out towards the window.
"D'you know what they're going to do with Voldemort's body?" Harry asked, picking at a tear in his sweatpants.
"No idea. Maybe they'll cremate him." Hermione stopped staring out the window and took to watching Ginny sleep. Harry did the same.
"He doesn't even deserve that." Harry said bitterly.
"I know, but what else can they do? It's not like they're going to throw the body of the darkest wizard of all time into the ocean or something."
"I reckon they'll just Vanish him." Harry said, looking longingly at Ginny. He wanted her to wake up so he could hug her, reassure her that everything would turn out fine.
"Yeah," Hermione said. "Probably,"
For a few moments the only thing that could be heard in the common room were Ginny's slow, steady, sleeping breaths. Harry looked around. The room looked the same as it did in his sixth year, except maybe a little neater. He heard a faint moan and whipped his head around to look for the source. Ginny was thrashing slightly in her chair, mumbling in her sleep. Harry jumped off his chair and attempted to run to her, but Hermione held him back.
"No," She whispered in his ear.
"YES, Hermione! Ginny—"
"If Ginny knew you were awake, Harry, she'd refuse to sleep. She needs to sleep now, she needs to rest. She's been through a lot—"
"Oh, and like I haven't?" Harry said, raising his voice. "Hermione, move over—don't touch me!—just let me see her. I can comfort her; I can make her feel—"
"No, Harry, you really can't! She needs another girl right now. Please be quiet, please! You can talk to her later, I promise. Even though you two are close, I don't want her to feel embarrassed of her state. She's really sad, Harry—"
"LET ME SEE MY GIRLFRIEND!" Harry bellowed. Hermione gaped at him.
"She not—she isn't—no, Harry—broke up—remember?" Hermione stammered.
"Harry?" He heard Ginny ask. Harry opened his mouth to answer, but felt a hand on top of his head push him onto the common room floor, so he was lying behind the chair he was previously sitting in.
"No, Ginny, it's just Hermione." Harry heard quick footsteps and the squeak of an armchair.
"I heard Harry." Ginny explained; her voice fainter and higher than usual.
"You must have been dreaming it. Harry's sleeping. I'm the only one awake down here."
"No, I heard him!"
"Ginny, trust me, you were dreaming it. It looked like you were having a rough sleep." Hermione cooed. Carefully and silently, Harry pulled his Invisibility Cloak from his pocket and draped it over himself. He stood up and walked over to stand behind the chair where Ginny sat. Hermione was kneeling on the floor next to her, a look of concern plastered on her face. Ginny looked worn and, for the first time in so long, truly emotionally vulnerable.
"Fred," Ginny squeaked before burying her face into her hands. Harry watched her entire body shake with tears. Harry, who suddenly felt like he was intruding on something private, backed away a few steps. It hurt him so much to see her so miserable. With every muffled wail, his heart tore a little more.
"Oh, Gin, you must feel terrible." Hermione said, stroking Ginny's ginger hair with her right hand, her left resting on Ginny's bony shoulder.
Harry backed up so far that he hit the wall. He slowly slid down it, closing his eyes, listening to Ginny's sobs. Ginny had always been so strong.
"Do you want to be left alone?" Harry heard Hermione ask.
"P-please. Th-thanks f-for staying here with me, Hermione. You can go to bed. I'll b-be fine." Ginny sniffled. Harry opened his eyes and saw Hermione walk to where she had hid him minutes before. "Harry?" she mouthed, looking worried when she didn't see him. He watched as Hermione pointed her wand at Ginny and cast a silent spell, probably the Muffiato charm.
"Harry, you heard Ginny, she wants to be alone. If you're still here, leave. I swear Harry, if you aren't heading upstairs right now, you're going to be so de—" Hermione stopped, her mouth lingering on the word she forbid herself to say. "You're going to be in big trouble." She finished quickly. Hermione pointed her wand at Ginny again, most likely lifting the spell she set on her. She then turned on her heel and walked up to the girl's dormitories. Harry didn't dare breathe until he heard a door shut. He quietly stood up and walked to Ginny to get a better look at her. She remained in the chair, silently wiping away tears with her small hands. Harry longed to hold them in his for the first time in what felt like forever.
"Ginny," He breathed, ripping off the Invisibility Cloak. Ginny jumped and stared at him with her teary, brown eyes.
"How long have you been there, Harry?" She asked, making an obvious effort to steady her voice.
"The whole time." He answered, not sure how she would react. Would Ginny be furious with him for spying? Or would she be thankful that he had been there for her, even if she wasn't aware of it? Harry found himself desperately praying she would feel the latter.
"Oh." She said softly.
"Er—"
"So I didn't dream it?"
"What? Oh! No, you didn't dream it. That was me." Harry admitted, tucking his Invisibility Cloak away while he talked. Ginny gazed up him, biting her lip.
"Right," She looked slightly nervous. Then she said very quickly, "Harry, when you were trying to speak to me and Hermione wasn't letting you...well, you called me your girlfriend."
Harry stayed silent. He didn't know what to say. He could feel his face reddening more with every passing second. Why did he say that? It was a dumb, wrong thing to say. Ginny would surely think he was some sort of obsessive freak. He had broken up with Ginny at the end of his sixth year. They were supposed to be over. He had even promised Ron that he wouldn't mess around with Ginny again. But that was different, that was before Voldemort was defeated. Harry only ended their relationship in the first place because he knew that Voldemort had a knack for murdering the ones closest to Harry. Many tense minutes seemed to pass before—
"You were my dying thought," Harry blurted out. If Ginny didn't look broken before, she certainly did now.
"HARRY!" He heard someone shout. Harry jumped and saw Hermione was running down into the common room, panting, her wand pointed at him.
"I told you, Harry! I told you not to bother her!" Hermione screamed. Harry was reminded of the night Ron had come back to the two of them. Hermione seemed only a tad less angry now as she was then.
"Protego!" Harry whipped out his wand and forced an invisible shield between him and the seemingly deranged Hermione.
"Herm—" Ginny started, rising from her chair.
"Sit down!" Harry and Hermione roared in union. Ginny did as she was told, albeit unhappily.
"Ginny," Hermione said, letting her voice turn sweet, though still pointing her wand at Harry. "I will not let this complete arse keep you from mourning the unpleasant things that have just occurred in your life in peace."
"I was just—"
"Shut it, Harry!" Hermione spat. "You go up to your dormitory this instant or you'll experience the wrath of my Pus-Hex on a place you'd find quite uncomfortable." She ordered, gesturing towards the said part with her free hand. Harry heard Ginny stifle a giggle.
"Don't threaten me!"
Hermione's grip on her wand tightened.
"You wouldn't be threatened if you had listened to me in the first place!"
"You don't understand, Hermione!" Harry felt fury boil up inside him. This wasn't right. No, he was supposed to be rejoicing, not fighting. But what was Hermione thinking? He needed to be alone with Ginny; he needed to speak with her.
"What I do understand is that this poor girl just lost her brother and—and that she doesn't need you to harass her!" Hermione yelled.
"Harass her?" Harry cried. "I was only there to comfort her!"
"But of course, you start chatting up about your little romance. Harry, are you aware that maybe this wouldn't be the best time to discuss that certain topic with Ginny?" Hermione looked insane. Her brown hair was astray and her teeth were bared. She quite honestly looked like a mentally disturbed lion.
"She brought it up!" Harry protested.
"So? You should have dropped it Harry! You should have told her you'd discuss it later! If you aren't able to tell, she's a bit unhinged at the moment!"
Harry let out a roar of laughter, terribly drenched in sarcasm. He was surprised at the noise that had just passed his lips and had to refrain himself from clapping his hands over his mouth in shock. He sounded mad.
"I just discovered that I had an eighth of Voldemort's soul festering inside of me since the age of one! Right before I found out, though, I realized that the deceased Professor Snape was madly in love with my mum! Then I saw her again, accompanied by my father, my godfather, and Lupin, all of whom have died! I revealed myself to the darkest wizard in history and basically asked him to murder me! After he attempted to do so, I had a lengthy conversation with my dead headmaster, only to find out that I had not died after all, and that I had to finish Voldemort off! And you say Ginny's 'a bit unhinged'? What about me, Hermione? How do you think I'm feeling? I'm not yet ready to dawn a party hat and throw a celebration for the death of Voldemort, if you haven't noticed. In fact, I'm finding myself extremely depressed right now. Now, if you don't mind, I WOULD LIKE TO TALK TO GINNY ALONE FOR THE FIRST TIME IN TEN MONTHS!" Harry bellowed, angrier than he had been in so long. He found himself with his hands on his knees, gasping for breath, and wiping the beads of sweat that appeared on his forehead away with his sleeve. He looked up. The shield between him and Hermione had broken when he had let down his wand while he was yelling, but Hermione was not hexing him. Instead she stood there, her arms dangling loosely at her sides, a single tear running down her flushed cheek. He couldn't bear to do as much as turn his head to glance at Ginny. He was afraid of what he might find. Instead, he focused on Hermione's wet eyes. He could have sworn he saw them flicker up at his legendary lightning scar, but thought he might have imagined at, as she was back staring into his green eyes before he could have been sure.
The silence between the three of them: Harry, Hermione, and Ginny, was deafening. No one said anything, knowing that it would only come out awkward, stiff, and all wrong.
"I guess I've—well, I've got to go." said Harry, slipping his wand back into his pocket. Instead of heading towards the dormitories, though, he had rushed to the exit of the common room. He was halfway out of the portrait hole when he looked back. Hermione was staring at him, a second tear leaking out of her right eye. Ginny's face was hidden by arm of the chair, but he could tell that she was curled up again.
"You've won, Hermione. Are you happy now?" He asked, as he turned back around.
"No," He heard her whisper hoarsely as he stepped into the hallway, before slamming the portrait hole shut behind him.