A/N - This is a series of 'drabbles'/bits and pieces that I have written over the years, usually beginnings of stories that never got past the first flirtings of ideas and I begin with a little piece of post-Dawn of Realisation universe (not really necessary to have read DoR beforehand but probably quite depressing! lol.
No copyright infringement is intended, not making any money from this, just sharing my silly ideas!
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Many years post -DoR
Harry was having another nightmare…
Hermione once again cursed the man for being so damned stubborn that he persisted in maintaining the silencing charms on his bedroom.
She shucked on her dressing gown – it was a tartan one that had been a gift from McGonagall in recognition of her perfect score on her Transfiguration OWL.
It seemed ironic to be thinking of THAT as she hurried across the hall to Harry's room.
She launched her full weight on the door to gain entry.
The screams of 'The-Man-Who-Lived' crashed into her like a sudden wave.
"Harry! Wake up!"
She yelled, desperately trying to tune out the almost inhuman noises her friend was making.
Once again the depth of Harry's torment struck her, massive rolls of magical power were pouring off his shaking body and his face was drawn in agony.
A pitcher of water stood on the bedside table,
Without a thought she emptied it's icy contents onto her friend.
Harry shot up into a sitting position, mouth hanging open and eyes wide in terror.
His gaze fell upon her and seemed to burn into her.
The expression of so much pain and anguish took her breath away, as it always seemed to.
It was a singularly humbling experience.
Slowly, almost painfully so, his body seemed to relax, and inevitably the shutters came down to mask all visible emotion.
"Hermione."
He rasped, running a hand through his untameable hair.
She both loved and hated being to one to witness this vulnerability in him.
It helped to tie him to the boy that she had first befriended all those years ago. It was a reassuring connection to the very roots of their friendship. A relationship, which they had cemented during their inexperienced forays into the frighteningly real and yet impossibly sheltered world of Hogwarts.
At the same time it tore at her heart to see Harry look so weary, almost broken.
He was still suffering deeply, that much was painfully evident.
Hermione knew that she was possibly the only person alive that knew just how deeply wounded Harry had been by his final battle with Voldemort.
The masses had predictably hailed him 'The conquering hero'.
But of the people who had mattered most to Harry, only Hermione had been constant.
Every other important relationship had been tainted, marred or broken beyond repair… And it had almost been too much.
Harry stared, almost uncomprehending, at his Ron's face.
Even as the poison of the words seeped to his heart the face in front of him blurred.
He could see them all…
All of the faces of people he'd loved, those that he'd loved so dearly that even in happiness it had been painful.
But rejection…
Rejection after rejection…
He'd barely seen his best friend walk away from him, but he'd heard the sound of those footsteps, receding into silent oblivion.
He hadn't cared that no one was there to hear it. He'd spoken, in a voice that he hardly recognised as his own.
"I love you Remus Lupin, my teacher, even if you hate me, I truly would have died to save you.
I love you Albus Dumbledore, my mentor, even though you used me. I'm lost without your guidance.
I love you Molly, my mother, I'm so sorry that I failed, that I couldn't save you.
I love you Ron, my brother, in every moment I miss you, I shared my life with you, I would have given anything in return for your presence in my life.
I'll never forget what you all did for me.
I'll never forget what you all mean to me.
I forgive you for leaving me…
Though I'll never forgive myself for pushing you away."
He'd almost lost it, right there.
The sheer magnitude of magic he possessed had almost crushed him in that time of utter grief.
But one thing had summoned his control back to him.
A small soft hand,
Holding his hand.
He could feel the disturbance of a scar running through the centre of the soft skin of her palm.
It was Hermione's hand.
And that had been enough.
Blinking wearily up at the face of his one remaining true friend Harry let out a sigh.
"Hermione. I didn't want to disturb you. I'm sorry."
Hermione raised an eyebrow.
"Oh Harry, you know that I like to do what I can to make this easier for you. Why can't you just let me?"
Harry shook his head.
"I'm sorry."
Hermione pulled him into a hug. He realised that with Hermione he really didn't care if she saw him like this, completely pathetic, fallible, human. His faults and failings laid bare.
"No more silencing charms. I promise."
Harry whispered softly.
Hermione stared hard at him before nodding.
"I know that you'll keep your word Harry. You always do."
***
Hermione was out.
It was quite rare these days that Harry got the house to himself. He wandered around the familiar rooms drinking in the quietness.
It wasn't that Hermione was noisy, it was just the complete solitude and silence that captivated Harry.
His mind often drifted to his cupboard. The only personal space that the Dursley's had afforded him, and which, he'd been forced to share with the vacuum cleaner.
It hadn't offered him the same comfort. The water pipes had run directly past his head and had often clanked noisily. And the whirr of the electricity meter had often kept him awake long into the night whenever Dudley had insisted on having a night-light or a load had been left running in the washing machine.
He glanced at the photo that was framed and on the mantelpiece. Hermione and himself waved back at him smiling gently. Gone was the exuberance of youth, worry lines and weariness clung to their faces, but there was peace there, deep in their eyes.
Oh how Harry longed to recapture even a sense of that peace.
He could barely believe that so many years had passed since he'd been 'The-boy-who-lived'. It seemed as though Snape had been wrong about his fame. Celebrity didn't really last. With no new dark lord to defeat and no cloud of fear to feed their desperation for a hero Harry's notoriety had plummeted. Top Aurors and even the brightest scholars filled the newspapers, there was no requirement for the latest gossip about a washed-up nobody like Harry Potter who'd been in a battle once…