A/N: OMG. It seems like I've been working on this story forever. I'm really excited to share this with you guys. It's slow-burn, so bear with me - drarry will happen eventually.
Tumblr: Chiseplushie
Featuring:
+ Angst
+ Healing/Comfort
+ "Hogwarts 8th year"
White Knuckles - Co-written by Chiseplushie & Disillusionist9. (Love ya, D9).
Chapter 01
May 1998
Most of the time he doesn't know what's happening around him. Or the exact date.
He fumbles in the morning when the alarm goes off, blurrily thinks about having breakfast and then snoozes until he has to scramble out of bed and into the shower. Harry is consistently late for Auror training but is on time for each one of the funerals and Death Eater trials he attends. If he sets his alarm to go off thirty minutes earlier on those days, well, no one needs to know.
There are celebration parties and interviews to attend, but with everything else on his plate, he doesn't go to them. Harry isn't interested in showing up at those events.
He has lunch with the fellow Auror trainees, settling down next to Ron at the table with his tray laden with that day's Special from the canteen. There's a hollowness he feels in his chest, but Harry ignores it, choosing to eat the slice of cherry pie first. He's an adult and he vanquished Tom Riddle Jr., he thinks to himself, he can eat his dessert first if he wants to. The tart cherries burst with flavor on his tongue, doing little to fill the emptiness within himself.
At home, he showers, glances at his post, and falls into bed with his hair still damp. Sometimes not in that order, and other times he just goes straight to bed.
Once a week after training or trial days, Harry has dinner with Hermione and Ron. Harry arrives home later than he mentally plans to on those days, stuffed full of food and good spirits. Hermione has been helping with the rebuilding efforts at Hogwarts and she rattles off a list of all the people who are helping too. She doesn't waste any time telling the boys to come back to school in the fall. He misses seeing her every day like he used to, so he doesn't mind her clucking over the state of his health, and definitely doesn't mind getting home late.
On the evenings Hermione doesn't force him to have dinner with both Ron and herself, Harry goes home alone to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place and tells himself to catch up on the mountain of post that's piling up on his kitchen table. He remembers telling Kreacher to not sort the mail (except dangerous letters, Kreacher bins those), and Harry often wonders if it would be considered too lazy of him to ask Kreacher to sort the mail after all.
Harry doesn't ask, and the pile continues to grow until the weekend.
The mountain of letters is higher than he thought possible and the only letter he sent off with his scops owl Cari, is a short note to Draco Malfoy. Honestly, Harry only replies to Malfoy's Thank You letter because the eagle owl catches him before he retires for the night. All the other mail is usually delivered while he is out and about during the day.
The Thank You letter arrives the same day Harry returns Malfoy his wand, the same day the Wizengamot sentences Lucius to ten years in Azkaban. Narcissa receives one year of house arrest and Draco is on probation - and that's the point when Harry stops listening. He's tired and his stomach is growling and he's mentally preparing himself for the next thing he has to do that day. And the next day. And the next day. He's not sure what the date is, though he's sure the weekend is coming soon.
It's been a month since the Final Battle, and he's not sure where time went off to. He certainly hasn't been having fun, and even Hermione doesn't say anything about the dark circles under his eyes anymore. She clucks and presses her lips together, but doesn't try to persuade him to go back to Hogwarts to finish his N.E.W.T.s like she usually does. He suspects Ron isn't so lucky.
Later, when his chest clenches, he turns the water temperature up as high as he can handle and scrubs until his legs won't hold him up anymore. Harry sits down in the tub, his head is cradled in his arms, and the spray pounds against his back while he makes a mental note to pick up something for sore muscles. The steam makes it easier to breathe.
~ o ~ o ~
June - July 1998
Two months into the summer Harry still doesn't get the days of the week right. Harry has dinner occasionally with Ron and Hermione, though he only sees the rest of the Weasleys on Sundays for dinner.
He's not really avoiding Ginny, because she's spending time at home with her family. She tells him how she divides up her visits with Luna, Neville, and Dean. Harry doesn't flinch when she mentions her ex-boyfriend and he wonders if he should feel jealous. He knows from Hermione's letters that Ginny occasionally helps at Hogwarts. The guilt he feels about not helping to rebuild Hogwarts gnaws at him, even though he tries to shed it from his mind. Everyone seems to be busy with their own lives to notice the way he's withdrawing into himself.
Harry feels Ginny's eyes on him as he makes his way to the Floo. He leaves in a whirl of green flames before the walls start to suffocate him.
He occasionally goes through his mail, and the only ones he reads and replies to are official looking pieces from the Ministry or letters from Hermione. His efforts are fruitless since he only replies to a handful of letters at a time, but he's cheered a little when Cari hoots encouragingly at him. He ignores the sadness creeping up behind him, caressing the back of his neck, and applies himself to Auror training with more vigor than before. Though there aren't any more trials to take up his waking hours, he still manages to arrive late on training days.
Harry is surprised to find out it's Mid-July. He thought it was late June and then idly wonders why he knows Malfoy's birthday is sometime in early June. It's a fleeting thought that he doesn't chase after.
He tries and fails in convincing Molly he doesn't really need or want a birthday party. He gives in because he knows his friends and family need more happiness to cling to. Molly agrees to a "quiet family dinner" but for once, Harry isn't looking forward to spending time with the vast family. He doesn't want to be dragged beneath the surface and drowned under their attention. Harry is both glad and relieved that Andromeda and Teddy come to his birthday dinner, since he's only visited with them a couple of times over the summer. His relief has nothing to do with the fact that Teddy draws some the attention away.
He's thankful for the Weasleys and appreciates their enthusiasm, but Auror training takes up all his time and energy. Ron's not faring much better but he seems to be enjoying himself, which is more than Harry can say for himself.
It's killing me, he confides to Hermione in his letters. Harry tells her he's tired but he (and Ron) can't wait to see her for dinner later that week.
From time to time, Hermione encourages both him and Ron to finish their education. It hasn't escaped her notice that Harry has lost weight, that Auror training is taking it's toll. It's Ron who is filling out, as Harry builds muscle but stays slim. While Ron orders more chips and drinks at the counter of their favorite fish and chip joint, Hermione leans across the table and takes one of his hands in hers.
She sighs and purses her lips before the words come rushing out. "Harry, I love you, but this has to stop. Don't think I haven't noticed, just because I don't always say something."
"What has to stop?" He tenses, his tongue feels like sand in his mouth.
"This!" She gestures to all of him. "You haven't been taking care of yourself. And don't tell me you have, Harry James Potter. The war has been over for three months! You look," Hermione pauses, softening her tone. "You still look as if we're still living out of the tent and eating burnt mushrooms. I'm worried for you."
He talks, pressing his knuckles against his eyes until he sees blots of color instead of dead faces. He sleeps regularly but she assures him that knocking out on the couch almost every night and only eating lunch on most days are definitely not proper life choices. He doesn't agree to taking a Holiday because he secretly doesn't want to travel alone.
His stomach is full and Harry thinks being wrong will always leave a bitter taste in his mouth. With promises to give Hogwarts more thought, as well as eating more often, he leaves his best friends for the night. Harry tries, but his not-routine is still the same.
~ o ~ o ~
August 1998
Harry is bone weary and finally has more time for himself. He doesn't have funerals to attend anymore, and the trials finished weeks ago.
Hermione steps out of the fireplace on a Saturday in August with a thick envelope from the Headmistress. She pulls him out of bed, dumps him in bathroom to shower, and doesn't make a fuss about the piles of letters in the kitchen that Harry has left unanswered. He dresses in comfortable jeans and a t-shirt before heading downstairs. They have tea on Harry's napping couch and his heart breaks as he tells her he cannot bring himself to complete Auror training.
He feels dejected and the feeling hasn't gone away no matter what he does. Overworking himself isn't helping. He doesn't want to go through Auror training anymore, and he means it. He uses less words than he imagined he would but she understands. She always understands him. His throat closes and Hermione lays her head on his shoulder speaking softly while Harry takes shaky deep breaths. She gives him the thick envelope full of parchment from McGonagall and he eyes her suspiciously. Hermione shrugs sheepishly, kisses him on the cheek, and tells him she planned on giving him the envelope anyways.
When she leaves to go back to Hogwarts, Harry enlists Kreacher to help him turn on the lights in every room. It helps lift him and Harry feels less lost and alone.
Harry sits down at the kitchen table with a fresh pot of tea, a stack of parchment, ink wells and quills. He sorts the letters alphabetically by the last names of people he knows, and then shoves everything else in a separate box which he will go through later. By the time he finishes sorting and alphabetising, he's made more trips to the loo than usual, thanks to Kreacher continuously refilling his tea pot, and is cheered at the being able to see the surface of the kitchen table. Kreacher makes him lunch and when the walls start shifting closer, Harry escapes to the back porch with his bowl of pasta. He's not hungry, but methodically forks pasta into his mouth while he works out a steady breathing pattern. He soaks up a bit of sun and Harry thinks he's doesn't hurt as much today.
He's been using Sirius' room as his own. After lunch, he digs through the dresser that holds his own clothes, hunting for a pair of clean socks. Summer is almost over but there's a chill that settles on his skin sometimes. Harry no longer questions it, or maybe he simply doesn't want to notice it anymore. He pulls on socks, and stuffs his toes into a pair of fuzzy Chudley Cannons slippers. He wanders back down to the kitchen and finally opens the thick envelope from McGonagall.
Inside, he finds a personal letter from McGonagall along with the usual book and supply lists.
Dear Mr. Potter,
I hope that everything is going well for you.
The rebuilding efforts here at Hogwarts are coming along smoothly, though I know I am not alone when I say that I have missed seeing you all summer.
I'm sure Ms. Granger has mentioned to you, as is her way, that we would love for you to come finish your last year of schooling. Hogwarts will re-open on the 1st of October.
In addition to completing your education, there is another matter I wanted to inform you about. As you well know, the Triwizard Tournament takes place once every four years. The Ministry has seen fit to continue the tradition this year. The Tournament will be held at Beauxbatons, and Hogwarts has been invited to compete. I've included a separate announcement in the packet.
Students who are of age are invited to finish their education at Beauxbatons. I'm sure there will be a great many students who will wish to enter the tournament. Although I understand if you do not want to travel abroad. You are most welcome to stay at Hogwarts.
The war was hard on everyone, especially you. The Board of Governors accepted the Ministry's invitation, the board believes the Tournament would be another effort towards unity in the face of the end of the war.
Let me know your decision. I will await your owl.
Sincerely Yours,
Headmistress Minerva McGonagall
There's a short missive permitting the Eighth years to leave Hogwarts grounds on the weekends, however their curfew is the same as all the other students' during the school week.
In the stack of parchment, McGonagall includes the official announcement regarding the Triwizard Tournament, and all interested students are strongly encouraged to attend. It's a standard letter which all students are receiving, but there's a note attached to the notice. The note is a gentle request from McGonagall that he seriously consider seeing a Mind Healer. Somehow it's Hermione's voice Harry hears in his mind as he reads the note. Harry tiredly rubs his face and thinks he will be plenty tired this school year even if he doesn't start seeing a Mind Healer. He sighs and sets the entire sheaf of parchment aside and tells himself to reply to the Headmistress later. Eventually.
Harry scribbles out a handful of replies and sends them off one by one with Cari. He sends off a reply to McGonagall last, with a list of the courses he wishes to take in an upbeat letter. He thinks about how a year at Beauxbatons would feel like a fresh start as he scribbles his reply. A place to make new memories. He isn't interested in the tournament and though travelling to a new place is scary, Harry knows he wouldn't be alone. Hermione wouldn't pass up this chance to visit a foreign school. He tells McGonagall he will most likely go with the other students to Beauxbatons, that he has no intention of participating in the tournament and finishes off the note with promises to give the counseling serious thought. Harry chews on his lip as he rereads his letter with a sense of finality, unsure of what he's doing in his life.
~ o ~ o ~
Harry wonders what the proper procedure is when he decides to submit his resignation notice.
He and Ron chat about it over apple crumble, inside their own private bubble during lunch. The rest of his lunch is untouched though the sweet cinnamon and tart fruit is enough. In the end, he decides to do it properly in person and goes to Kingsley first before meeting with the Head of the DMLE. He's anxious when he gives Kingsley only one week's notice. Kingsley just looks at him and kindly says he doesn't have to show up for the rest of the week. Kingsley promises Harry that he's always welcome to come back if that's what he wants, and as the Minister of Magic as well as his friend, he appreciates the time and effort that Harry has put in.
Harry is relieved.
His shoulders feel lighter, and he's just so glad he doesn't have to go back to training the next day. Instead of reading and answering letters, he eats dinner because he wants to (not because he should), tends to Cari and falls asleep on the couch more relaxed than ever.
~ o ~ o ~
Now that he doesn't have Auror training, Harry finds that he has more time on his hands than he knows what to do with. It's to be expected, since training was his only focus for the past few months. The relief he initially felt has faded. He feels lost again, but tries to not let it bother him.
With only the mountain of letters for company, Harry thinks he should find the proper outlet for his extra time. He Floo-calls Andromeda and spends the afternoon with Teddy three days in a row. His days are filled with laughter as he crawls after Teddy around the cottage. His clothes are spotted with baby food and grass stains rather than dirt, sweat and blood, but Harry thinks he's happier than he was.
Harry's evenings are interrupted as he tries to sleep. His chest is too small to contain his heart, the muscle beats wildly trying to escape its cage. His mouth and nose can't seem to take in enough air and he's gasping, eyes wet and blinking hard, his legs trapped in a tangle of sheets.
It's his own screams that wake him in the night.
On the fourth night, he gets out of bed and changes his clothes. He's wearing sweats and old trainers when he leaves Number Twelve. It's pitch black outside. When Harry returns from the jog, his skin is warm and cold at the same time and the sweat that rolls down his neck is from pounding his feet on the pavement instead of dreaming about the faces that will never see again. He falls asleep in bed fully clothed.