title: salubrious
pairing: [eventual] harry/ginny
an: a massive thank you I love you to aw844 and, of course, the scarlett ribbon for the reviews last chapter. I've been kind of missing, I know, but this prompt gave me an unbelievable case of writer's block. it was awful. but I came up with this? short again, I must say, but to add anything else would have killed it. I like, do you like? thank you to anyone reading and feel free to drop a review! I love hearing back from you. it makes my day all happy and shiny and makes ME happy and shiny. And don't we all want to feel happy and shiny? Right?
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salubrious
He needs to do something.
That line runs through Harry constantly, his knees, concealed underneath the table, jittering up and down to some faced paced rhythm as he sits amongst familiar faces in the ruins of the Great Hall. There is a low hum spread throughout the shambled space, a steady strum of different tenors as the survivors utter to one another.
His fingers drum on his thighs.
Harry had left Ron and Hermione with the Weasleys, slipping off as, after another round of warm hugs, Mr. Weasley placed both hands on Ron's shoulders, tears escaping from the sides of his proud gaze, and started speaking in low tones. Harry didn't want to, couldn't pin down the tight feeling in his chest as he watched Ron, after a brief downcast of the eyes and blush of the neck, throw his arms around his father in response—but it had him moving, escaping away unnoticed as Mrs. Weasley fussed over a blushing Hermione for a second time.
The voices of those nearest—Neville, Luna, Dean—flit against his awareness with the touch of moth wings. They respect him, his privacy, enough to realize that he is no mood to talk, but Harry hopes that, his presence brings them some sense of comfort at least. For they, his Hogwarts friends, the ones that don't know what happened the past year, who haven't seen him at his very worst, offer him some odd sense of relief as well.
It is only a small comfort, though, and again Harry's hands itch to just do something. Eyeing the gaping holes and heaps of rubble scattered through the hall, he wonders when the clean-up, the rebuilding is going to start. This is only one area of the school, and he knows that the destruction has a much larger radius.
The school needs to be fixed. The incoming class of First Years must arrive in September. Hogwarts, now free from the rein of the Carrows, free from the dark shadow of Voldemort. It must become that magical safe haven once more.
He owes it to the school, to Hogwarts, the first place he felt like he belonged, a symbol of hope and better things. He owes it to the lonely boy sitting on the edge of the playground, bullied for being different.
It is only the second day after the end of the war, and he knows that everyone is still grieving, grieving and feeling grateful to have survived.
Harry is tired of grief, too guilty to allow himself to feel gratitude for his survival.
He just needs to do something.
an: i love you. please review? what would you like to see happen? anything?