Harry woke to the sound of birds chirping in the distance and an abrupt bang against his window as an owl either dropped a newspaper or knocked itself unconscious. His eyes were heavy whether due to falling asleep with his spectacles over his eyes or exhaustion, he didn't know, nor did he care.
Sleep hadn't come easily to him, and so he'd spent most of the night marking and planning lessons, and then organising the mess that was his living room. He couldn't even remember falling asleep. He sat upright on the couch and removed his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath and replaced the spectacles over his eyes.
His eyes settled on the two empty glasses in front of him. 'Should've done this sooner.' He grabbed the bottle of firewhiskey and marched to the kitchen sink where he proceeded to empty the bottle into the drain and tossed the empty bottle into his trash can.
He walked towards his bathroom. He ignored his closed bedroom door where he was sure Hermione would soon wake with a terrible hangover. He twisted the shower handle and waited for the water to warm to a comfortable temperature. He cleaned himself and when he stepped out of the tub, he wrapped a towel around his waist and grabbed a shaving blade to rid himself of the stubble under his chin. When he was finished, he grabbed his tooth brush and began scrubbing his teeth.
He had been bent over the sink when he heard fast and heavy footsteps.
The door swung open and slammed against the wall, later he would have to repair the crack. A blaze of thick brown hair caught his eyes before he had the chance to register what was happening.
Then came the retching.
Harry watched bleakly as Hermione doubled over the toilet, expelling the contents of her stomach. His hand continued brushing in an involuntary motion as he listened to her gag.
When she finally took a breath, he pulled the toothbrush from his mouth. Toothpaste stained the corners of his lips.
"Morning," he said. She answered with a scathing look. Her hand seemed to reach for the flushing lever but kept missing or was too weak to depress it.
Again, she made a retching sound. Harry blinked the sound away lest he lose whatever he had left in his stomach.
"This is awkward, isn't it?" She finally breathed from her spot on the floor.
There she was on her knees, doubled over a toilet and there he was, half naked with a towel wrapped around his waist and brushing his teeth.
"All things considered, Hermione," he spat into the sink, his voice clear and wiped his lips. "I feel I'm in a far more favourable position than you." He chuckled and flushed the toilet on her behalf on his way out of the bathroom.
"You're welcome," he spoke and shut the door behind him. "I'll leave some clothes for you at the door."
It wasn't long before he heard the shower run. He observed his reflection, the bags under his eyes had their own shadows and his hair had begun to tickle the base of his neck. Perhaps he needed that haircut after all. He rummaged his drawer for a pair of scissors and returned to the mirror. He finger combed his wet hair and grabbed a random lock from the front. He carefully trimmed the ends.
By the time the shower stopped, he had finished the front of his head. He tilted his head from side to side as he tried to figure his approach to trimming the back. Growing up with the Dursleys, he had often taken to cutting his own hair lest the spiteful whim overcame them to shave him bald. Naturally, this meant he often looked dishevelled but no one seemed to care, and neither did he. His scissor hand twisted awkwardly as he grabbed a dangerously large chunk of hair.
He prepared to cut when Hermione emerged through the reflection in the mirror. When she caught his eye, his hand moved on its own and a lump of hair rolled off his back.
"H-hey," he spoke, annoyed at his tongue-tiedness.
"Hey," she stood at the door way, her eyes narrowed exhaustedly. She waved awkwardly though her hands were hidden under his grey shirt. The entire outfit seemed to drape over her. He was by no means incredibly tall, nor was he overtly muscular, though the outfit seemed to shrink her awkwardly.
"You took too much off the back." she pointed lazily.
"What?" his hand snapped to feel for the space behind his head. He felt a deeper and flatter spot than the rest of the space around it. He squeezed his eyes with a heavy sigh. Suddenly, a clean shave seemed appealing.
"Let me fix it," She approached him. "Give me the scissors."
"I thought you knew a spell for it,"
"Harry, no amount of magic could fix this mess," She finally smirked, though exhaustion still marked her features.
He narrowed his eyes on her. "Thanks, Hermione," He remarked sarcastically and angled the safe end of the scissor towards her.
He pulled a chair from his study. It was dusty and underused but he sat on it anyway. He watched her part his hair, her fingers slid through his damp hair effortlessly. She stood on her toes as she split his hair, her brows narrowed in concentration. He prayed silently. With a snip, his locks rolled off his back.
She exhaled over him while her fingers trailed his hair. They traced warm spots down his neck as she carefully measured her next cut and he suppressed the shiver that coursed down his spine. An odd sense of deja-vu washed over him. The last time they had been in this position, they'd been chasing horcruxes, exhausted out of their minds, irritable and miserable without Ron. He'd asked her to cut his hair, not out of necessity but rather, as a reason to distract her from her melancholy. Perhaps to ground her even. She'd taken the opportunity, with a very similar look in her eyes then as she did now.
She snipped the hair behind his ears and tucked the strands behind. He could feel the heat of her hands radiate over the tip of his ear. He tried not to shift against the ticklish sensation. He watched her through the mirror as she bit her lip in concentration, it was an odd thing to see up close. He supposed had another woman done it, it would have been cute but her sheer determined look while cutting his hair-
He let out a small laugh.
"Don't fidget," she chastised him.
"Sorry," he coughed and steadied himself. She looked at his reflection and turned his head on either side. She had a scrutinising look that almost had him sit upright. He looked away. She pulled a face and set to trimming the side he had finished working on.
"Harry?" She spoke softly, cutting into the silence as the scissor snipped. He watched her through the mirror, her eyes were downcast as she worked. "About what I said last night, I didn't mean it."
There it was. Something inside him yelped.
"You were right," his eyes stayed on her as she worked. Her movements were slower and her lips set in a thin line.
"And I'm sorry."
Her hands stopped and her gaze met his. Something flashed in her eyes.
She offered a half smile and parted his hair. She wiped her eye on her shoulder (his shirt) and sighed. She took a deep breath and when she pulled away, her lip seemed to tremble but was quickly hidden as she sucked her lip between her teeth.
Harry reached to touch her hand, she stopped and there was a soft tremble.
"What's wrong?" He focussed on her. His eyebrows were raised.
This time there was no alcohol to hide behind. No wistful glances at the fireplace. Just them.
She swallowed deeply. "Ron and I," she spoke softly. She raised her head but kept her eyes downcast. "We broke up."
Harry blinked rapidly. His hand fell from hers.
"When?" was the first thing to escape his lips. She gave him a look that said 'Does it matter?'. He supposed it didn't.
The last time they had been together as friends, he could've sworn he noticed a thin layer of tension between them. He pretended not to notice the way they tried not to look at the other, the way they spoke at each other. He tried not to assume anything of it.
She ran her absently hand through his hair, this time her hands traced his scalp and down the length of his hair, ruffling it at the end. It was semi dry and his curls began to emerge.
"One minute we were fine, and the next-" She began with a bitter smile. Her eyes shone. "One day our arguments were fun and good-natured, and the next, they weren't. How did things get-?" her voice broke.
He watched her carefully. Don't misunderstand, Harry cared for her with all his heart, and though he hated to admit it, she had a polarising personality. He had at one point admired how easily Ron quelled her when she became overwhelmingly neurotic. And, he had admired how easily she tempered Ron when he became too hotheaded. Most of all, he admired how they bounced off each other. They'd seemed like two pieces always destined to fit.
In time, he'd watched Ron mellow out. Whether it was due to losing Fred and being a big part of aiding George with his business, he didn't know, but Ron had in his own way, changed. Hermione, on the other hand…
Harry felt something small and wet fall onto his head.
He breathed a sigh and stood up. The chair shifted on its own. He wordlessly pulled the tearful woman into his arms. Again, he was at a loss for words as he held his best friend. She was stiff against him, and he wondered if she would push him away.
"I was so alone… I needed a friend," She breathed against his chest. "I needed you." she ground her teeth.
He felt sick, and suddenly, he wanted her to push him away. He knew what it was like to need someone, only to be faced with emptiness. Whether it was the love of a parent, or a significant other. Though, there was always one constant; his friends. They were a constant source of affection, acceptance and, love.
And he hadn't been there when one of them need him most. A thousand knives slammed into his chest with immense force.
He couldn't imagine Hermione had had anyone to turn to. After all, she was not the most adored student and always struggled to make friends besides them. As an adult, she was not the most adored at the ministry, what with all the changes she determinedly wished to impose. His minds eye recalled the way some wizards rolled their eyes when she spoke or even presented herself at hearings at the Wizengamot.
He patted her back softly. "I'm sorry," What else could he say?
She was silent though her body still shook against him, "I miss him…". Her shoulders slumped as she relaxed against him. Her hands reached under his arms and bunched around his shirt. He could feel her nails through the material and against his skin. It was a sharp and piercing sensation, but he blinked the pain away. There was a desperation in the way she spoke, an emptiness in the way she pressed against him. He parted his lips to speak but any words of comfort died on his lips.
Instead, he leaned his head against her own and stroked her back.
…
Harry watched Ginny thoughtfully, his eyes were fixed on her neatly combed blazing hair. It flowed over her shoulder in shiny waves. He watched her though he couldn't see her. His mind and body seemed to be oceans apart.
He blinked slowly and his eyes began to burn. He removed his glasses and rubbed the ache. These days he was always so exhausted. There was always something draining him, something to attend to, something to fix.
He settled his glasses over his eyes. He stretched to place a hand on Ginny's. He squeezed hers, hoping his hands were as warm as hers. It didn't feel right to be at her side and wishing to be anywhere but.
"I'll be back," he whispered to no one and rose from his seat. He walked towards the door, when his hand reached towards the knob it twisted on its own and the door swung open in front of him.
Harry exhaled deeply, a weak smile formed over his face.
"Ron," he said with as much cheer as he could muster.
"Figured I'd find you here. Leaving?"
"Yeah," he said and shifted to make room for Ron to enter. Ron looked to Ginny and then to him. He shook his head and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and ushered him outside.
"Came to see you, mate." he said, with a worrying seriousness. "We need to talk." They stepped aside as two nurses rushed through them in a flurry of white and down the corridor.
Ron gently shut the door behind them, both men walked down the hollow and sanitized building. But for the sound of their heavy footsteps on the marble, neither said a word, and frankly, Harry was glad for it.
They found an empty bench at a park. The sun tinted the sky in violet and deep reds. Children with sugar stained lips yelled their goodbyes to their friends, drivers leaned on the horns in traffic, and dogs twisted their owners ankles after a walk. All seemed fairly right with the world.
Harry raised his coffee to his lips and winced when he burnt the tip of his tongue. He settled the cup between his palms and turned towards his friend. Ron's brows were furrowed deeply as he sipped from his coffee.
"Well?" Harry urged.
"What happened with the girl?" He asked with a stroke of his chin and Harry blinked rapidly. His stomach dropped. Of all the scenarios that played in his mind, he hadn't expected Ron to ask about Heather.
Something clicked in his mind. Ron was still an auror. This wasn't just a friendly visit, he was being questioned.
Harry twisted his cup in his hand and sighed. He recounted the events of the day and watched as Ron absorbed each detail with a blank expression.
"That's it?"
"That's it."
"You really didn't notice anything,"
"I think you missed the part where I had my back turned."
"That makes an awful lot of sense." Ron spoke sarcastically.
Harry swallowed the remainder of his cold coffee, suddenly, he wished for something stronger. "I didn't say it would."
Ron said nothing. He was worried. That much was evident by his cold look. He had already lost one sibling, he couldn't imagine the stress he was going through. Harry looked down at the empty cup. A gnawing feeling overcame him, he hated how little help he could be. His mind had racked over the incident over and over again but nothing came to him.
The sun had set and the park was illuminated by bright street lights that drew the attention of every insect attracted to light. Harry placed a hand on Ron's shoulder and squeezed. He didn't have to look at his friend to know he was watching him.
"We'll figure it out." he said and met his friends gaze, "I won't let anything happen to her."
"I know." Ron's lips turned upwards for a bit and he threw his head back to finish his coffee. Both men fell into a peaceful quiet as dogs barked in the distance.
Harry crushed the cup in his hand and shot it into the trash can a distance away, it would've been quite impressive to a muggle but magic often is, isn't it. Ron tried the same but fell off a few inches. Harry turned to him, with a childishly smug grin plastered on his face.
"Oh, fuck off," Ron shoved him as they laughed and Harry levitated the object into the trash. They let their joy die down naturally and once again, settled into silence. He felt a chill against the back of his neck and shivered a bit.
"Nice haircut," Ron broke the silence, there was something in his voice.
"Like it? I did it myself." he replied with a shrug.
"Oh please," he chortled, "I'd know Hermione's handiwork anywhere,"
This time the silence was thick. Harry looked away. He hated the feeling that developed in his chest. It was a sinking feeling.
"Ron?" Harry whispered.
"I can guess why Hermione didn't tell me, but you," he paused and leaned back on the bench, "I cant imagine why you wouldn't tell me."
Ron paused, he watched Harry and looked away. "You had enough on your plate, mate." He said simply. "We agreed to keep it quiet."
"She's hurting,"
Ron blinked slowly, his eyes were unreadable. "I know." he replied with a sigh. Clearly, Ron was hurting too.
An immature part of him had always feared what his place would've become in their lives if they got together. Or rather, whether he would have a place at all. And when they inevitably did, he realised that nothing had changed. He was still a part of them, though the only side effect being that he often had to turn away at their overt displays of affection.
But now, he realised what his fear had truly been: what his place would be when they broke up. His mind eye replayed how she clung to him, with silent sobs racking through her and how her hands dug into his sides. He watched Ron's grim expression and he wondered, worried even, whether they would be the same. All of them.
He sighed deeply and looked towards the dark.
"Padma, though?" Harry mused with a small smile.
He waited and then dodged the smack aimed for his head.
…
I battled inner demons to avoid my pathological need to delete my works in progress lol. Much love you each one on you (and to those who review, I see it and love you). Have an amazing week.