Set after DH. Not epilogue compliant.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series or any of its characters.
Chapter One: Falling
What's happening to me?
Renowned Auror Harry Potter had been sitting at his desk, filling out his case report, when the question drifted into his mind yet again. It was quite a formidable inquiry, much too persistent to ignore. He gnawed at the end of a fresh quill, thinking about what had just happened. It was a routine sting operation, really: pose undercover as part of a Muggle persecution ring, catch them in the act and proceed to arrest. Honestly, there was no explanation for messing up such a simple mission with his level of experience. He was an awarded Auror, for Merlin's sake—how the hell could he screw up so horribly? The scene kept replaying itself in his head:
I walked in.
Dressed in nondescript gray robes, Harry infiltrated their hideout in an abandoned glass factory. The group consisted of half a dozen men, all fresh out of school. Their leader was a loud-mouthed shopkeeper with a lazy eye, who used wide, sweeping gestures to emphasize points. Harry had finally earned his trust, having constructed his cover as an anti-Muggle enthusiast for months, using enough glamours to make him physically ill. All of his hard work set the stage for that night. The meeting would give the Ministry the evidence it needed to send the entire group to Azkaban once and for all.
I waited to take action.
With him present, the gang planned to cast Fiendfyres in the lobbies of over twenty hotels in Muggle London. Having witnessed the criminal activity firsthand, Harry called in reinforcements and went on to Stun the leader. Soon, almost all of them were unconscious, the element of surprise against them. Then the youngest wizard took off in the confusion.
I had to go after him.
He should've let the Aurors surrounding the building apprehend him, but he instinctually gave chase. Adrenaline rushed through his veins, his feet kicking up dust as he pounded the cement. He gained on the perp soon enough; the kid was just out of arm's reach when they burst through the service exit. The deranged light of the streetlamps cast an orange glow on the empty parking lot. Cars rusted away on cinderblocks and the crisp autumn air blew through the tall grass beyond the chain-link fence. The two of them were alone, no one around to stop the delinquent from clambering to freedom. The Aurors had yet to secure all the possible escape routes. Without pause, Harry fired a Stunner with dead accuracy. It hit the boy square in the back. He knew it hit; he saw it with his own eyes. The boy tumbled off of the fence, crashing into a pile of dry leaves with an explosive rustle. So how did he get away?
It doesn't make any sense! He pulled his shaggy hair out of its ponytail, growling under his breath. I Stunned the kid. I know I did. He fell right in front of me.
Unfortunately, that was as far as he could remember. According to the Aurors at the scene, they went around back to find Harry splayed on the ground, out cold. It seemed as though there wasn't even a struggle: the kid simply disappeared.
"Harry, you alive there, mate?" The frustrated Auror lifted his head from his desk, glaring at the ginger in the doorway. His partner chuckled, pointing out the parchment stuck to his forehead while strolling into the modest cubicle. He held a paper cup in each hand. "You still beating yourself up?"
"Ron, you don't understand. I had him," he hissed through clenched teeth. He tore the document off of his face, glancing at it before tossing it in the waste bin. It ate the paper with a satisfied belch.
"Yeah, I know," the young man offered a sympathetic smile and a cup of steaming coffee.
"Thanks," he took a gulp, searing his tongue. "Shit! Nothing is going my way tonight. Kingsley just handed my ass to me in his office; I hope you know that. Said if I made one more mistake like that, I'm doing desk work 'till Merlin knows when. He even suggested I go see a Healer about my 'fainting spells'. What the hell is that about?" He took another, more cautious sip of caffeine. "I don't need the whole department thinking I've gone soft, especially not today."
He glanced at his Quidditch-themed calendar hanging on his wall. Today's date was circled in harsh, red ink—October 30th. Tomorrow would be the anniversary of his parents' death; that alone had everyone tiptoeing past around him as if he were liable to collapse from grief. The whole idea absolutely reeked of absurdity, since he hadn't cried in over seven years.
"I don't get Kingsley, anyway. I mean, we caught the little punk eventually. I think all that power as Minister is going to his bald head," he grumbled, grimacing into his own drink. Rubbing away at his flaming red stubble, Ron worked himself into a friendly irritation. "You should petition him or something, Harry. That'd show him!"
Harry sighed, dropping his head back onto his papers. The office workers moved in a busy shuffle, with memos darting through the air. Closing his eyes, he breathed in the heady scent of ink, hazelnut coffee, and his own aftershave. He tried to drown his thoughts in Ron's rambling, and his mind was gloriously blank for a few, precious moments before—
What is happening to me?
He resisted the urge to punch himself in the head, settling for grinding his teeth until he thought his jaw would give.
"I'm losing it," he whispered.
"What was that, Harry?"
He lifted himself out of his chair with another sigh, stretching his legs with a cringe worthy symphony of cracks and pops. Taking off his glasses to massage the bridge of his nose, he clapped Ron on the shoulder and turned him towards the door. "I said the coffee doesn't have enough sweetener. The break room is where I need to be right now."
"Oh." His best friend looked somewhat deflated. "Okay, well I'll go with you."
Harry shook his head. "I have reports left to finish, so I'll be here pretty late. Probably all night." He found himself lying more often these days. "You go home to Hermione and I'll be over tomorrow night."
"Sure. Alright, mate," Ron frowned. The silence between them was saturated with awkwardness. They both stared at their shoes, waiting for the other to make the first move. Ron seemed determined to hang around him with the discretion of a beached whale. How does one tell his partner and best mate to go away without bruising his ego?
"Ron?"
If the excitable ginger had a tail, it would be wagging. "Yeah, Harry?"
"I'm fine." Ron smiled, the tension leaving his shoulders all at once. The statement seemed to assuage some unseen anxiety. With a relieved nod, his partner hurried back in the direction of his own cubicle with his hands deep in his pockets.
There is definitely something wrong with me. I can't even look at myself in the mirror anymore. As of late, it seemed as though even his reflection hated him. Whenever he caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror, even if he was in a relatively good mood, his reflection would be glaring back at him, accusing him. The experience was so unsettling, he'd taken to avoiding mirrors altogether.
Harry made his way to the break room at a slow pace, apologizing to co-workers as he bumped past them. It was near the end of their shift on a Friday, so the entire floor was in a hurry. Most of them were off to change clothes before going out drinking with friends, or perhaps doing last minute shopping for the Halloween office party the following evening. Unfortunately, his plans to work late that day were thwarted by his own fiery girlfriend. Ginny had insisted that they attend the party, going off on a tangent about how antisocial he's become.
Stop trying to spend every holiday alone, she yelled in his face. You're too famous to laze about on your couch while all of your friends are out, having a life. One night isn't going to kill you!
One could say that little else peeved him more than her spoiled-little-sister attitude. Although, the image of her freckled face flushed in anger did wonders for his lousy mood. As horrible as he felt admitting it, keeping her from having her way incited a sadistic pleasure in the pit of his stomach.
Speak of the devil, he thought to himself.
The Auror reached his destination at last, only to hear a hushed conversation between two, all too familiar voices. Not a fan of eavesdropping, Harry walked into the room, surprising the whispering pair. He didn't acknowledge them at first, though he made sure to slam the door with impressive force. He also took special care to sweep back his robes as he moved, to reveal his wand cradled in its shoulder holster. No one spoke, and when one of the pair headed for the door, Harry took the moment to spin around and catch him by his sleeve.
"Don't go just yet, Dean," he said with a chuckle. "I think you have something in your pocket for me."
The man in question swallowed thickly, avoiding eye contact. "I-I don't know what you're talking about, buddy." Even though Dean was noticeably taller than him, his reputation as the person to bring down the most dangerous man in Wizarding history placed him higher up on the food chain. Auror Thomas didn't fail to notice. "Really, Potter, I don't want any trouble."
"Quite frankly, neither do I, Thomas. So let's just handle this like adults and you hand over the piece of parchment you're hiding." Harry tightened his grip, feeling the tremors run up and down his fellow Auror's arm. He dragged the man further from the doorway, using his own body to block his path. He almost hoped that Dean would give him a reason to throw a punch; he could appreciate a serious fist fight right then.
"I don't have any—" The atmosphere in the room turned icy the moment Harry dropped his smile. Dean's legs shook something awful, so much so that Harry had to hold him up.
"It would really be in your best interest to hand it over," he interrupted. He met the terrified man's eyes and held his gaze like a snake watching its prey. That was all the motivation Dean needed to hand over the scrawled message that had been given to him not a few moments earlier.
Harry caught the front of his robes, dragging him down to eye level. "This is your last warning: stay away from my girlfriend." Dean Thomas headed straight to the door as soon as he was released. It nourished his shriveled self-confidence to see someone so afraid of him. Let Kingsley think what he wanted, Harry wasn't going soft in any sense of the word.
Without facing the guilty woman behind him, he examined the note in his hand. It read "Keep in touch", punctuated with hearts and Ginny's personal mailing address written underneath in looping scrawl. He stared at it for a long moment, disgusted to see that he was right to frighten Dean away. Once again, His lover's wandering eye came to bite him in the ass. How many of these messages had he intercepted at this point? Probably six or seven from Dean, another ten or so from various other men, all of them written in the same damn handwriting.
He turned on Ginny, who held his glare defiantly. What was wrong with her? He couldn't understand. His face must've been truly ferocious, though, because she lowered her head the next moment. It was as if he was screaming at her without ever saying a word.
I honestly don't need this right now.
"Please go and get your stuff. We're going home."
"My shift isn't over yet," she countered, headstrong despite her quivering fingers. There was a moment of rigid silence. After a beat, Harry pulled out his wand and set the note on fire. He watched it burn in his palm, too tired to feel betrayed, and let the ashes fall between his fingers.
"I'll be waiting at home. If you try to avoid me, I'm telling Ron everything."
She snapped to attention, opening her mouth to argue. He held up a hand to stop her, not even giving her the courtesy of seeing his face as he stormed out the door. The Auror radiated a dark aura that warned all of his co-workers to keep their distance. He gathered his coat, left everything on his desk as it was, and signed off of work an hour early. Flooing back to Grimmauld Place, he sidestepped a waiting Kreacher. Seating himself within view of the fireplace and the front door, Harry waited for the end of the hour, watching the clock the entire time. The house elf tried to force him to eat, since anyone who laid eyes on Harry could tell his diet was skimpy at best. However, he declined ever offer of a meal Kreacher presented him with. He never moved from his spot, though he did begin to slouch. His only thought was of what he would tell the Weasleys after everything was over, since there was no way of his relationship with Ginny making it through this one. It was just one note too many.
She better show up. I don't want to bring anyone else into this. The grandfather clock in the hall tolled on the hour, and Harry sat up a little straighter in his chair. I'd rather they think I'm being a complete prick than have them fighting with each other.
The fire in the hearth flared violent green, revealing the youngest Weasley at her worst: her bright hair fell in a ragged French braid; her much-loved, cobalt blue robes were crumpled in one hand, her expensive high heels hanging from the other; even her usually intricate makeup ran in streaks of mascara and foundation from what seemed to be heavy weeping. Feeling quite unimpressed, Harry waved her into one of her favorite chairs by the warmth of the fire. She perched herself on the edge of the cushion, possibly ready to throw herself to the floor if she had to. For Ginny's sake, he forced himself to look at her without shaking his head in exasperation. He knew how she played her game, appearing pitiable and repentant so he would feel in the wrong. Even after she lost an argument, if she ran off to her brother in such a fabricated state of despair, Harry would have no choice but to give in.
Not this time, he told himself. It's time to end this insanity.
"Gin, please calm down," he asked in a gentle tone, patting her shoulder. He saw the glint in her eye before she started bawling. "Don't make this even harder for the both of us."
"H-harry," she choked on a sob. "I'm so sorry! I promise, never again. It didn't mean anything; it was just a note. I swear, I would never betray you. Never, never!" More sobbing, with a few hiccups thrown in for good measure. "Really, honestly, truly sorry. I love you, Harry! I don't deserve your forgiveness, I know I don't, but please!"
"Please what, Ginny? Forgive you anyway? Seriously, that's quite enough of this crying business. I've known you too long, and you've done this way toomuch." She continued her charade like he never spoke at all. Pausing, he pulled her into a loose embrace, with a decent amount of inches between their chests. When she tried to grasp his arms, he shook her off, rubbing her back while she kept on acting. "If I said I forgive you, would you calm down?"
It felt as if he'd flipped a switch when Ginny finally had the mind to look at his face. That was when he saw just enough of that cocky, winner's smirk to prove his point. She always thought she had him on puppet strings, manipulating his every weakness.
Today just isn't my day, he groused, creating distance between himself and his soon-to-be ex-girlfriend. "I've had enough."
Her face fell, and he watched as she uncoiled herself to show her true colors. Shooting up from her seat, Ginny's mask of penance traded with one of haughty rage, reminiscent of demon with a thousand faces. She attempted to loom over him, sticking an accusatory finger under his nose.
"You know what your problem is? You are way too jealous. Just because you're the amazing Harry Potter, you think all of my attention should be on you."
Wow, he scoffed. He leaned back in his chair, refusing to yell. He wanted the breakup to be generally civil, and kicking her out of the house now would be, to some extent, counterproductive. At least, that was what he told himself.
"It's not about being jealous, Gin. It's about you sleeping around behind my back, plain and simple."
She flinched, as if slapped across the face. "I meant it when I said that would never happen again. Dean was a mistake the first time, and the break room thing was just a joke. Nothing was going to happen."
"That's exactly what you said last time, word for word." He gestured for her to sit back down, maintaining a terse composure. His goal was simply to keep Ginny from throwing a tantrum, or else all hopes of a peace would be lost. "Listen, you know I'm not the type to hold a grudge, but you need to know what this is. This," gesturing to her heated glare and clenched fists, "is you getting mad because I won't let you fool around. I'm done taking your shit, Ginny, completely fed up. I told you before, if I see you make a pass at him again, we were through."
"Harry!"
"No." They were at a standoff, staring at each other in utter quiet. She seemed to be in a near panic, searching his face for answers. Unable to find ground, she attacked him yet again.
"The only reason I cheat is because you don't pay me any attention."
"I know."
She hesitated, not expecting him to agree. "If you would just spend a little time with me, Harry, I promise—"
"Ginny, enough." He kneaded his temples, feeling the warning signs of an anger-induced headache. He was at his limit, wanting only to be left alone. "You need someone who can worship the ground you walk on, and that just isn't me. I'm sorry, I really am, but you're going to have to—"
"Nuh-uh," she covered her ears, curling in on herself. "I don't wanna hear it!"
"Ginny, please—"
"NO! I DON'T WANNA HEAR IT! IT HAS TO BE YOU, HARRY! IT HAS TO, IT HAS TO, IT HAS TO!" He sighed yet again that day, his head pounding so hard he could hear his heart beating in his ears. She honestly had to leave before he lost his temper.
"Come on, Ginny, I'm going to get angry."
"NO! NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!"
Her screaming finally set off Mrs. Black's portrait, whose hideous screech brought his headache into another plane of agony. Harry grabbed his head, hunching over into his own lap. The atrocious din wrapped around him, mercilessly squeezing his skull. Pure adrenaline charged through him, bringing on a wave of nausea so strong he fell to his knees. Clawing at his scalp until his nails were bloody, he felt more than heard the unearthly wail that ripped itself from his chest. It was so powerful, it shook him blind.
Suddenly, all sound faded until Harry heard nothing but the ringing in his ears.
From there, he allowed himself to fall.
