Suggested Soundtrack
Eastmountainsouth – Hard times
The rain pelted the cool, green countryside as Harry tightened his tie. The storm rattled the panes of the old cottage windows, and the sound echoed through the lonely house. It had been years since the duel and Harry's right arm ached dully during the cold seasons, which in Scotland was most of the time, and a slashing scar marred the perfect pale flesh. He pulled a coat from the closet before he stepped outside. The rain felt good as it hit his face, his hands.
The car was slow to start, but eventually sputtered to life. He drove down the roads, high hills folding around them, until he came to the train station. He looked down at his ticket, number 11. It wasn't nine and three quarters, but Harry knew that was one train he'd never board again. He waited, buying a coffee from a vending machine, and as he sipped it he felt the heat fill his mouth, helping to buffet the winter chill.
When the train did arrive he got on and sat down in an empty row. He had a book in his pocket, but decided not to pull it out, doing so seemed somehow wrong. Land seemed to fly by them, the great Scottish moors were alive in the rain, and Harry felt calm looking out over them. It was foreign, and comforting, but as the hours went on the train came closer to its destination. It began to pass villages, and small towns, bringing him closer to England and the memories it held.
Harry stepped off the train at a small town about an hour south of the Scottish border. He hailed a cab, and sat in the back seat, chilled to the bone, as it barreled down the cobbled roads, and turned down a small side street. Harry felt a long forgotten feeling flow over him as they drove through the magic barrier. The cab arrived at the small funeral home, and as Harry got out the rain began to pelt his head, drawing his long hair in front of his eyes. He brushed it aside with his left hand watched the cabby's expression, "Aren't you..." Harry shook his head and handed him a tenner before hefting his duffel, and walking up to the building.
Harry stood outside the funeral door, waiting for some signal. He knew what would happen when he walked in, the whispering would start; people would snatch glances, and pretend not to see him. Rumors had started after the battle, and even out in the muggle highlands the whisperings still found their way to his door.
"He went insane, he has"
"I heard he inherited all the dark lord's powers."
"He committed suicide. The muggle police found him hanging in his own bathroom."
And as soon as he stepped in through the doors Harry knew that any anonymity that he'd won over the years would be shattered, the reporters would come again. Oh, he was well hidden, but one or two would find their way to his door, hoping for an interview, or a snapshot. But he was doing this for her, she deserved as much. He stepped through the door.
He set his bag near the door before making his way into the anteroom. When he did the crowd seemed preoccupied, barely noticing his passage. But as he walked farther into the room he felt a hand brush his shoulder, he looked up to see Longbottom looking back at him. The years had been kind to Neville as he stood before Harry his face seemed sharper, even his weight gave him a kind of patronly appearance, and he smiled solemnly, "Hey, Harry." "Hey Nev. How's he doing?" "He's a mess, Harry. He was out here before, but then he... Fred and George took him to the back room." Neville said, motioning toward a door. Harry nodded, "Thanks. You... you look good, Nev." Neville nodded, and than as Harry began to walk away he stopped him, "Harry. I... I never got to thank you for what you..." Harry cut him off, "Don't worry about it Nev." "But, I..." A little girl walked up and wrapped a leg around his leg. Neville looked down and than back up to Harry, "Well. Thank you." Harry smiled slightly, and walked toward the door. As he made his way through the crowd he watched them step aside, taking care not to touch him. Familiar faces watched him from the crowd, their eyes following him as he crossed to the door. When he opened it he saw two grim faces look up at him, Fred and George Weasley had grown older in the years since he'd last seen them. Their once jovial faces were marked with grief, and age. Then Ron looked up at him, the sight of his face, tightened with pain, made Harry's jaw clench. When he'd decided to break his wand he'd known that he'd miss seeing Ron the most. As much as it had hurt him to walk away, the fact that Hermione would be there for him had made it possible, but now as he watched his old friend cry he felt long suppressed emotions bubble up in him. He wanted to take the pain from him, but he knew he couldn't. Ron's crying stopped for a moment as he began to speak, "Harry... I... She..."He stopped, unable to go further. Fred and George hugged him as he put his head in his hands, and looked up at Harry. "Excuse us." Fred said standing, and George followed. As they walked past Harry George leaned in, "We're out in the hall if you need us." When the door shut behind him Harry walked over and sat down next to Ron, draping his left arm over his friend's shoulders. Ron looked up at him, his handsome face looked tired, and dark circles hung under his blue eyes, "I... I just miss her so much." He said. Harry leaned his head into Ron's, feeling his breath on his face, "I know, mate. I know." As the two of them sat there Harry felt Ron's body sag into him. Rain pattered against the roof of the funeral home, and Harry tightened his arm about Ron's shoulders, a telltale heat rising to his eyes.
Later as the two walked from the room they were confronted by familiar faces from the crowd who stood in the room, talking in hushed tones. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley made their way through the crowd and when they reached the two Molly pulled Ron into a strong hug, her arm pulling his head to her shoulder, "Oh, Ron." His father stood watching the two silently. When Molly released him Ron offered his father a hand, but was pulled into another hug. Only when they let got Arthur seemed to notice Harry, "Harry. I..."
he seemed to suddenly catch himself, "I'm glad you came." Harry nodded, and turned to see Molly looking at him with an expression of motherly affection, "Dear. It's..." words seemed to fail her, and Harry felt her arms wrap around him, and he stood reluctant, and after a beat put his arms around her, "Hello, Molly." They stood for a moment in silence, and Harry excused himself, heading toward the bathroom. When he reached it he sat in the stall, and breathed, long, shallow breaths. The silence of the bathroom seemed natural, more bearable than the opposing hush of the anteroom. He considered leaving, but remembering Ron's face he knew that wasn't a possibility. After everything that had happened he thought he'd left it all behind, but when he had arrived home to find a stout owl sitting on his post box it felt like his life had returned. He turned on the faucet and felt the cold water slid over his hands, and he knew. He had to say goodbye. He left the bathroom, and made his way through the crowd, and toward a back door, which sat on the far side of the room. If the silence of the anteroom had been oppressive than the quiet that huddled here was suffocating. The chairs had been arranged in a long row, and he walked down the aisle toward the coffin which sat, surrounded by flowers, at its end. The casket was open and as Harry looked down at it, a youthful face looked up at him, for the first time in her life no lines of worry touched her brow, "Hello, Hermione." She'd surprised no one when she took became an auror after graduation... after the battle. The letter said it had been quick, and Harry figured that was something to be grateful for, but as he stared at her still form he knew it was no consolation. He took a shuddering breath and felt tears begin to stream down his cheeks, "I miss you. I... I'm sorry I left you both, but... But I had to. I know I should have told you. Don't worry about Ron. I... I'm here now." Harry stood for a moment with his hand in his pocket, and looked over the flowers. Harry took a last long look, and than said, "Goodbye." His steps echoed through the empty room as he left.
He found Ron standing out in front of the building, staring out at the rain. "I can't stand it anymore, is that terrible? I just need to be somewhere else. It's just too much." "No, it's not terrible." Harry said, watching his friend's face, then he said, "I'm at a hotel down the way, I mean if you..." "Yeah... All right. I just. I can't be here." Harry grabbed his bag, and the rain began to let up as they walked. When they reached the hotel Harry checked in, and they made their way up to his room. The room was barren, but Harry hardly noticed, and he set his bag down next to the bed, and shucked off his soaking jacket. As Ron pulled off his own Harry watched his figure emerge from it. Ron had settled into a job at the Ministry after Hogwarts and his body seemed softer, as a result. Even still Harry could see the firm build of a former keeper beneath it, and the sight of the wet collared shirt sticking to Ron's skin left Harry feeling aroused. He hung their jackets in the shower, and when he reentered the bedroom he found Ron's gaze fixed on the floor, "I think I need to get out of here." Harry took a seat on the bed next to him, "I saw a coffee shop down the street." Ron shook his head, "I don't mean that. I mean... the whole thing. I need to get leave. To go somewhere." Harry felt Ron lean into him and he wrapped his arm around the curve of Ron's side. "I just need some time to think." "Well, you can stay with me for a bit. I mean, if you wanted to." Ron looked Harry in the face, and Harry watched something move behind his eyes. "You were always such a great friend." Harry felt Ron's body turn toward his, and he felt himself hardening. "Ron, I..." Harry stopped speaking as Ron's hand came up and pushed his long brown hair from his face. I "I always loved you, Harry. I mean even when I loved her, I loved you too. I knew how you felt about me, but I..." He stopped, his hand running down Harry's cheek, bristling his stubble, and cupping his chin.
They kissed then. Neither could be sure who moved first, but as they did they shifted backward from the foot of the bed until Ron's head rested on one a pillow. Harry could feel his weight below him, and as they kissed Ron untucked Harry's shirt, and ran his hand's up Harry's chest, and faltered. He put his other hand on Harry's chest and broke the kiss, tears touching his eyes.
"I'm sorry. I..."
Harry shook his head, "It's okay. Shh, it's alright." He laid himself down next to Ron and stared at the ceiling. He felt Ron shift, turning in toward him, and he mirrored the motion, holding his friend's head to his chest as sobs wracked his body. "It'll be okay." Harry whispered, "It'll be okay."
The rain pelted the cool, green countryside as Harry tightened his tie. The storm rattled the panes of the old cottage windows, and the sound echoed through the lonely house. It had been years since the duel and Harry's right arm ached dully during the cold seasons, which in Scotland was most of the time, and a slashing scar marred the perfect pale flesh. He pulled a coat from the closet before he stepped outside. The rain felt good as it hit his face, his hands.
The car was slow to start, but eventually sputtered to life. He drove down the roads, high hills folding around them, until he came to the train station. He looked down at his ticket, number 11. It wasn't nine and three quarters, but Harry knew that was one train he'd never board again. He waited, buying a coffee from a vending machine, and as he sipped it he felt the heat fill his mouth, helping to buffet the winter chill.
When the train did arrive he got on and sat down in an empty row. He had a book in his pocket, but decided not to pull it out, doing so seemed somehow wrong. Land seemed to fly by them, the great Scottish moors were alive in the rain, and Harry felt calm looking out over them. It was foreign, and comforting, but as the hours went on the train came closer to its destination. It began to pass villages, and small towns, bringing him closer to England and the memories it held.
Harry stepped off the train at a small town about an hour south of the Scottish border. He hailed a cab, and sat in the back seat, chilled to the bone, as it barreled down the cobbled roads, and turned down a small side street. Harry felt a long forgotten feeling flow over him as they drove through the magic barrier. The cab arrived at the small funeral home, and as Harry got out the rain began to pelt his head, drawing his long hair in front of his eyes. He brushed it aside with his left hand watched the cabby's expression, "Aren't you..." Harry shook his head and handed him a tenner before hefting his duffel, and walking up to the building.
Harry stood outside the funeral door, waiting for some signal. He knew what would happen when he walked in, the whispering would start; people would snatch glances, and pretend not to see him. Rumors had started after the battle, and even out in the muggle highlands the whisperings still found their way to his door.
"He went insane, he has"
"I heard he inherited all the dark lord's powers."
"He committed suicide. The muggle police found him hanging in his own bathroom."
And as soon as he stepped in through the doors Harry knew that any anonymity that he'd won over the years would be shattered, the reporters would come again. Oh, he was well hidden, but one or two would find their way to his door, hoping for an interview, or a snapshot. But he was doing this for her, she deserved as much. He stepped through the door.
He set his bag near the door before making his way into the anteroom. When he did the crowd seemed preoccupied, barely noticing his passage. But as he walked farther into the room he felt a hand brush his shoulder, he looked up to see Longbottom looking back at him. The years had been kind to Neville as he stood before Harry his face seemed sharper, even his weight gave him a kind of patronly appearance, and he smiled solemnly, "Hey, Harry." "Hey Nev. How's he doing?" "He's a mess, Harry. He was out here before, but then he... Fred and George took him to the back room." Neville said, motioning toward a door. Harry nodded, "Thanks. You... you look good, Nev." Neville nodded, and than as Harry began to walk away he stopped him, "Harry. I... I never got to thank you for what you..." Harry cut him off, "Don't worry about it Nev." "But, I..." A little girl walked up and wrapped a leg around his leg. Neville looked down and than back up to Harry, "Well. Thank you." Harry smiled slightly, and walked toward the door. As he made his way through the crowd he watched them step aside, taking care not to touch him. Familiar faces watched him from the crowd, their eyes following him as he crossed to the door. When he opened it he saw two grim faces look up at him, Fred and George Weasley had grown older in the years since he'd last seen them. Their once jovial faces were marked with grief, and age. Then Ron looked up at him, the sight of his face, tightened with pain, made Harry's jaw clench. When he'd decided to break his wand he'd known that he'd miss seeing Ron the most. As much as it had hurt him to walk away, the fact that Hermione would be there for him had made it possible, but now as he watched his old friend cry he felt long suppressed emotions bubble up in him. He wanted to take the pain from him, but he knew he couldn't. Ron's crying stopped for a moment as he began to speak, "Harry... I... She..."He stopped, unable to go further. Fred and George hugged him as he put his head in his hands, and looked up at Harry. "Excuse us." Fred said standing, and George followed. As they walked past Harry George leaned in, "We're out in the hall if you need us." When the door shut behind him Harry walked over and sat down next to Ron, draping his left arm over his friend's shoulders. Ron looked up at him, his handsome face looked tired, and dark circles hung under his blue eyes, "I... I just miss her so much." He said. Harry leaned his head into Ron's, feeling his breath on his face, "I know, mate. I know." As the two of them sat there Harry felt Ron's body sag into him. Rain pattered against the roof of the funeral home, and Harry tightened his arm about Ron's shoulders, a telltale heat rising to his eyes.
Later as the two walked from the room they were confronted by familiar faces from the crowd who stood in the room, talking in hushed tones. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley made their way through the crowd and when they reached the two Molly pulled Ron into a strong hug, her arm pulling his head to her shoulder, "Oh, Ron." His father stood watching the two silently. When Molly released him Ron offered his father a hand, but was pulled into another hug. Only when they let got Arthur seemed to notice Harry, "Harry. I..."
he seemed to suddenly catch himself, "I'm glad you came." Harry nodded, and turned to see Molly looking at him with an expression of motherly affection, "Dear. It's..." words seemed to fail her, and Harry felt her arms wrap around him, and he stood reluctant, and after a beat put his arms around her, "Hello, Molly." They stood for a moment in silence, and Harry excused himself, heading toward the bathroom. When he reached it he sat in the stall, and breathed, long, shallow breaths. The silence of the bathroom seemed natural, more bearable than the opposing hush of the anteroom. He considered leaving, but remembering Ron's face he knew that wasn't a possibility. After everything that had happened he thought he'd left it all behind, but when he had arrived home to find a stout owl sitting on his post box it felt like his life had returned. He turned on the faucet and felt the cold water slid over his hands, and he knew. He had to say goodbye. He left the bathroom, and made his way through the crowd, and toward a back door, which sat on the far side of the room. If the silence of the anteroom had been oppressive than the quiet that huddled here was suffocating. The chairs had been arranged in a long row, and he walked down the aisle toward the coffin which sat, surrounded by flowers, at its end. The casket was open and as Harry looked down at it, a youthful face looked up at him, for the first time in her life no lines of worry touched her brow, "Hello, Hermione." She'd surprised no one when she took became an auror after graduation... after the battle. The letter said it had been quick, and Harry figured that was something to be grateful for, but as he stared at her still form he knew it was no consolation. He took a shuddering breath and felt tears begin to stream down his cheeks, "I miss you. I... I'm sorry I left you both, but... But I had to. I know I should have told you. Don't worry about Ron. I... I'm here now." Harry stood for a moment with his hand in his pocket, and looked over the flowers. Harry took a last long look, and than said, "Goodbye." His steps echoed through the empty room as he left.
He found Ron standing out in front of the building, staring out at the rain. "I can't stand it anymore, is that terrible? I just need to be somewhere else. It's just too much." "No, it's not terrible." Harry said, watching his friend's face, then he said, "I'm at a hotel down the way, I mean if you..." "Yeah... All right. I just. I can't be here." Harry grabbed his bag, and the rain began to let up as they walked. When they reached the hotel Harry checked in, and they made their way up to his room. The room was barren, but Harry hardly noticed, and he set his bag down next to the bed, and shucked off his soaking jacket. As Ron pulled off his own Harry watched his figure emerge from it. Ron had settled into a job at the Ministry after Hogwarts and his body seemed softer, as a result. Even still Harry could see the firm build of a former keeper beneath it, and the sight of the wet collared shirt sticking to Ron's skin left Harry feeling aroused. He hung their jackets in the shower, and when he reentered the bedroom he found Ron's gaze fixed on the floor, "I think I need to get out of here." Harry took a seat on the bed next to him, "I saw a coffee shop down the street." Ron shook his head, "I don't mean that. I mean... the whole thing. I need to get leave. To go somewhere." Harry felt Ron lean into him and he wrapped his arm around the curve of Ron's side. "I just need some time to think." "Well, you can stay with me for a bit. I mean, if you wanted to." Ron looked Harry in the face, and Harry watched something move behind his eyes. "You were always such a great friend." Harry felt Ron's body turn toward his, and he felt himself hardening. "Ron, I..." Harry stopped speaking as Ron's hand came up and pushed his long brown hair from his face. I "I always loved you, Harry. I mean even when I loved her, I loved you too. I knew how you felt about me, but I..." He stopped, his hand running down Harry's cheek, bristling his stubble, and cupping his chin.
They kissed then. Neither could be sure who moved first, but as they did they shifted backward from the foot of the bed until Ron's head rested on one a pillow. Harry could feel his weight below him, and as they kissed Ron untucked Harry's shirt, and ran his hand's up Harry's chest, and faltered. He put his other hand on Harry's chest and broke the kiss, tears touching his eyes.
"I'm sorry. I..."
Harry shook his head, "It's okay. Shh, it's alright." He laid himself down next to Ron and stared at the ceiling. He felt Ron shift, turning in toward him, and he mirrored the motion, holding his friend's head to his chest as sobs wracked his body. "It'll be okay." Harry whispered, "It'll be okay."