Author's Note: This short and abstract piece was the result of some time spent reflecting about the significance of a new year. One of the greatest things about this time is that it gives us the opportunity to reignite our hope for the future. This last year was hard, but this new one can be different. This piece was written to reflect this idea in a unique way. I hope you enjoy it, and please send me any feedback you may have.
The light of the sunset reflected off the still waters of the lake, the full spectrum of brilliant color on sharp display against the blue canvas. The low cries of animals in the distance mingled with the screams of the wounded and the whimpers of the dying as they were transported away from the ruined castle behind them. The battle had been hard-fought, the victory a pyrrhic one. Many had given their lives. Good and evil fell side by side that day.
Wanting to be far away from the grieving and mourning, Harry had taken a seat against an tall tree on the grounds, his eyes fixed on the swoops and dives of a pair of birds in the sky above him. They were too far away to identify, but he could make out the outlines of their bodies, the razor-thin lines of their wings. He wanted nothing more than to join them, to be a mere observer in the chaos that surrounded him. Many had died so that he could see this day through, far too many. By his own estimate, anyway. Some might disagree, of course, but they didn't understand. How could they? People spoke about love, about sacrificing yourself for the good of another. But no one ever talked about being the one for whom the sacrifices were made. Not even Dumbledore, the very paragon of wisdom, the one who always had all the answers.
He sighed, running one hand through the untamed mess on his head. Weeks of hunting for Horcruxes hadn't given him the chance to cut his hair, and it constantly tickled his neck or fell into his eyes. If only Uncle Vernon could see him now. The man's mustache might fall right off with the dance he would be dancing, finally having proved that his nephew was a ruffian.
It was an ironic thing, really. If anyone else had a son like Dudley, they would think every other child in the world was an angel sent from above. Sometimes, he pitied the Dursleys. They were obsessed with being normal, with meeting the expectations of everyone around them. Having experienced those pressures himself, he could sympathize. Other times, he envied them. Their biggest concerns were paying the bills, cooking meals, and making sure his cousin didn't get himself arrested. On the other hand, he had to worry about dark wizards seeking revenge for their now deceased master, cursed objects that stored fragments of souls, and fearing the demise of everyone he knew.
There was one person in particular whose potential death scared him more than almost anything else. The very idea of it made his heart race and his mind plunge into blind panic. He had seen her approach death's threshold once already, and he had no desire to see it again. If he could have his way, he would refuse to take her on any of his little adventures ever again, keeping her out of harm's way in every situation. But she would never let him do that. In fact, she would hex him where he stood if he tried to do anything of the sort.
Honestly, it was one of the things he admired most about her. She didn't need protecting-on the contrary, she was the one who was protecting him more often than not. If her safety meant so much to him, he couldn't imagine how much his own meant to her. But the greatest thing was that her commitment wasn't only expressed in words. When she said that she would go with him to the very end, she meant it. Leaving everything behind to follow someone who doesn't know what they're doing half of the time would be foolish by every estimation, but Hermione was no fool. In spite of all his failures, she was always there. More than once, he had wondered why that was. Maybe one day, he would ask her. Like Dumbledore, she also seemed to always have all the answers. Unlike Dumbledore, she wasn't in the habit of speaking in riddles.
As if on cue, he saw her approaching out of the corner of his eye. Her wand was still in her hand, her face covered in dust and soot. There was a small cut on her cheek, and her hair was flying behind her like the sail on a rowboat in the middle of a storm.
"Harry? Are you alright? What are you doing out here by yourself?"
"I'm fine, Hermione. I was just thinking."
She sank down beside him, their shoulders lightly touching. She didn't say anything for a moment, following his gaze into the sky. The birds were still locked in their atmospheric dance, although they had gotten closer to each other now. It mirrored their own situation, in a way.
"Everyone was looking for you. They all wanted to thank you for killing Voldemort and everything." Before he could respond, she continued. "I told them that you would speak to them when you were ready. They understood."
He tore his gaze from the birds, focusing on the lake instead. "I can't face them yet. Not after…not now."
Hermione nodded before squeezing his hand. "Not yet. But you'll have to face them eventually. And everything else, too."
"I know." They sat in silence for a time, before he broke it. "How is Ron?"
"He went to visit Lavender first, and now he's with his family. They need each other more than ever." She looked at him tentatively. "I suppose I know how you've always felt. Not having a family is…hard. Really hard. Especially now."
"Must be harder for you. I've gotten used to it."
She shook her head furiously. "Don't say that. No one should have to 'get used to it'. Not anymore. What you did today, you ended that cycle. Voldemort won't take the lives of anyone else's parents. I know you'll never take the credit for that, but you did a wonderful thing today, Harry."
Harry smiled wryly. "You can give yourself some credit, Hermione."
"Yes, I suppose I can." Her smile mirrored his own. "How many times have I saved your life, again?"
"I've lost count. Hopefully you won't need to do that anymore, though."
She looked down at her hands, furrowing her brow. "Have you spent much time thinking about that, Harry? The future, I mean. Now that the war's over, what are you going to do?"
He frowned. "I haven't thought about it much. I said I wanted to be an Auror, but I dunno. Seems like a stressful job, and now that I've experienced part of what they do every day, I don't know if I want to be doing that for the next forty years."
"I always wondered why you wanted to be an Auror. Yes, Defense Against the Dark Arts is your best subject, but if you don't mind me saying so, the job doesn't really fit you."
"Yeah. What about you?"
Hermione's eyes gained a spark at that. "Well, according to Professor McGonagall, I have the grades for almost anything I might want to do. At first, I wanted to have a job in the Ministry somewhere, maybe working with something related to house-elf rights." She looked downwards. "Now, I'm not sure. Let's just say that recent events have changed my mind about the Ministry. If someone as vile as Umbridge can rise so far, I can't see how there'll be a place for me."
"Come on, Hermione. If you wanted to join the Ministry, they'd have to take you. Who'd be able to compete with you? If you want a job there, I say you go for it."
"That's just it, Harry. I don't know if I want a job there anymore. I recently saw a paper from St. Mungo's. I never really considered being a Healer before, but it's actually quite fascinating. There's so much research I could do. Did you know they're working on improvements to the Wolfsbane Potion there? Considering how werewolves are treated by wizards, I think it's wonderful they're working on something like that." A note of sadness crept into her voice. "Besides all that, my parents would be proud that I followed in their footsteps, in a way."
Harry looked over at her downcast expression. "Are you planning on finding your parents soon? They shouldn't be in danger anymore, right?"
"It's not that. It's just…I don't know how they'll react to everything I did. I erased their memories about me, using magic against them without their consent. I promised myself I'd never do anything like that for as long as I lived, but now I broke that promise. If I can't even forgive myself for that, how can I expect them to forgive me?"
"I don't know the slightest thing about parents, Hermione, but I'm sure they care about you. Go and find them. Tell them the war is over. No matter how they react, they'll be in your life again. That's something, at least."
A small tear trickled down her cheek, splashing onto the grass without making a sound. "What if they don't love me anymore?"
He shifted uncomfortably. "They might be angry with you, but they won't hate you."
"How can you be sure? I would be furious if I were them."
"If my parents were alive, it'd take a lot more than that for me to never want to see them again." He blinked as Hermione's jaw dropped. "Wow, where did that come from?"
She laughed lightly. "Look at you, Harry. You've defeated one dark wizard, and you're already full of wisdom."
"I really don't know why I said that, but honestly, you should find your parents and tell them everything that happened. They deserve the truth, at least."
A most familiar look appeared on her face: one of determination. "You're right, Harry. Even if they do hate me, at least they'll know why I did what I did. Also, it would also be the perfect opportunity for you to meet them."
"What?"
"You've never met my parents properly, Harry. Of course, I've written plenty of letters about you, so I'm sure they know the basics. But they'd love to meet you in person, and it would really help me if you were there." She looked uncertain. "Assuming you'll come with me, that is."
"I'll come. I don't have any other plans, and if it helps you, it's fine with me. When are you leaving?"
"I was thinking I'd leave in a fortnight. I need to go back to our house and get everything in order first. I'm also planning on coming back to finish my seventh year, so I need to arrange everything with Professor McGonagall. Once those two things are done, I think I'll be ready. I'll owl you about it later."
"Sounds good."
The plans now made, they lapsed back into silence. The avian pair in the sky flew in one final circle between flying away together, their wingbeats in perfect harmony.
As the sun finally reached the horizon, Hermione nestled closer to him, resting her head on his lap and closing her eyes. "It's been a long time since we've sat and talked together like this, Harry."
"Yeah, it has. Too long. I get smarter every time we do, though."
She opened her eyes, one hand moving up to rest on his cheek. "Maybe we should do it more often, then."
He smiled and bent his head, gently pressing his lips against hers. "Maybe we will."
They didn't know it then, but the future would afford them many such opportunities. And as the sun finally bent its fiery head in submission to the conclusion of its journey, the darkness of the impending night didn't seem quite so dark anymore.
After all, even the longest of nights gives way to the light of the morning.