Harry came down the marble staircase. In front of him, the front doors of the castle were open, and through them a steam of students poured in out of the cold, heading toward the Great Hall.
He took the last few steps down, and stood at the foot of the stairs, waiting.
His eyes met those of his best friends.
Hermione, her face pale and dark circles under her eyes, as though she had not slept well in many nights.
Ron, his eyes betraying everything he had suffered: three funerals, his mother's break down, the unrelenting reporters hounding his family.
They stopped, not sure what to do next, not sure how to meet each other. Harry came toward them, and they simply stood there, frozen, eyes locked on each other but unable to find words.
The last of the students came through the doors, avoiding looking at the three of them, all except for one.
Draco Malfoy, his usually pale and thin face now skeletal, came in last, and his gaze stayed on Harry, his head twisting around as he walked past them and disappeared into the Great Hall.
"Harry," Hermione broke the silence, her voice strained, "it's so good to see you." She laughed a high, unnatural laugh, and looked terrified by the sound.
Harry forced himself into the role he had chosen to play. He turned to Ron.
"I'm so sorry, Ron," he told him. "I'm sorry I couldn't be there."
"It's alright," Ron said gruffly. "I know you had enough to deal with."
They stayed silent for a moment.
"Shall we?" Harry motioned toward the Great Hall.
They went, and sat down in their usual place, huddled close together at one end of a visibly uncrowded table, in a Hall that was unnaturally hushed. No chatter, no laughter, no shuffling; only muted and hesitant voices.
Harry looked around the spacious room. There was no need for four tables now -- they could have fit around two. The Slytherin table was more than two thirds empty; Harry could count on his fingers the number of Fifth, Sixth, and Seventh Years he saw. His eyes again found Malfoy, who sat alone, his bodyguards missing, far apart from his Housemates.
There was no speech. Food appeared on their plates and they ate in silence.
The ceiling above them was a shower of sparkling snowflakes. The walls were brightly decorated. The House banners flew. It was almost festive, the play of color and light, but each of them sat alone, in fear, in grief... in silence.
Harry surveyed the staff table. Dumbledore sat in his usual place in the center. On either side of him, McGonagall, Flitwick, Lupin, Snape...
Snape was staring at him, his expression unreadable. Only a short time ago, Harry would have torn his eyes away, but now he gazed steadily into Snape's dark eyes, and it was Snape who looked oddly disturbed, and broke contact first.
The meal ended, and they went up to their dormitory. Harry watched the others unpack, sitting on his own bed, not wanting to interrupt the silence that still hung between them.
"So..." Ron began, finally looking at him as if noticing him for the first time.
"I guess... Good night," Harry said.
"Yes... Good night," Ron repeated, giving him a small smile.
For the longest time, each of them could feel the others lying in the darkness, still awake, afraid to move, almost afraid to breathe lest they disturb the stillness of the night, and each of them was even more keenly aware of the empty bed, its spectral presence swallowing all the air in the dorm.