Hello readers! Welcome to the first fic that I have ever let the public see! Up until this point, all stories I have written have been for close family and friends only, and I am very excited to finally share what I have written with the rest of the world. Please enjoy and even review if you feel so inclined; I won't ever ask people to review or require so many reviews before posting a story or chapter, so do what you will and come what may. I only ask that you refrain from profanity as there are innocent eyes on this site, and I wish my stories to be safe for them.
Many thanks from person d!
Harry lifted the shovel, tears streaming down his face. He placed the tip into the soil and firmly pushed it down further with his foot. His muscles strained as he lifted the soil out of the hole. He wiped at his eyes, trying and failing to stem the waterfall that had sprung into existence soon after arriving on the beach near Shell Cottage. Giving up on the useless task, he replaced his hand on the handle of the shovel and continued The Work. He dug into the soil and lifted it out.
Dig in. Lift out. Repeat.
Dig in. Lift out. Repeat.
Dig in. Lift out. Repeat.
Again and again and again.
Luna came to sit next to him and The Body on the hillside after Bill and Fleur had finished looking over her. She was quiet and calm, just as always, and Harry wouldn't have even noticed that she was there had she not been humming; he was too focused on The Work.
She sat and hummed.
He dug in and lifted out.
And the world spun on.
It was soon late afternoon. Hermione and Ron climbed up the small hill to where Luna sat and Harry was lost in The Work. Ron had brought a shovel, and so he joined Harry. Hermione carefully sat down next to Luna on the ground and let silent tears creep down her face. Luna wrapped her arms around her and stroked her bushy hair as she continued to hum.
She sat and hummed and stroked.
He dug in and lifted out and grieved.
The Work was completed after a time, and Harry gently lifted The Body from its place next to Luna. Carefully, he and Ron lowered The Body into The Work until It laid at the bottom. They arranged flowers around It until it was if The Body had fallen asleep in a meadow rather than have a knife force Its entrance into eternal slumber.
She stopped sitting and humming and stroking to stand and speak and comfort.
He stopped digging in and lifting out and grieving to rest and think and remember.
Memories flooded into the forefront of his mind, and he saw It on his bed with his letters. He saw It outside Dumbledore's office holding a sock. He saw It in the kitchen caring for Winky. He saw It in the cellar of the Malfoy's Manor.
He saw HIM.
HIM, who had tried to save Harry's life by closing the entrance to platform 9 ¾. HIM, who had bewitched a bludger to attack Harry so that he would be injured enough to leave Hogwarts. HIM, who punished himself for trying to protect Harry despite his master's orders.
He saw DOBBY.
DOBBY, who had tried to save a not-quite-teenage boy who lived because he had made life easier for most every House Elf by simply not dying one cold Halloween night. DOBBY, who had found a modest boy who only wished to be wanted by people for who he was, and not something that happened to him, and had done so. DOBBY, who tried to protect him all the more because of the famous Harry Potter's little known propensity for kindness. DOBBY, who had died to save him.
Dobby, who had died to save him.
Him.
Luna comforted.
Harry remembered.
And Dobby slept.