Pain and Closure, Part 2
~o0o~
"No. It's not up for discussion."
"Ginny—"
"No, Harry! I said I wouldn't leave your side and therefore I won't, what about that is so hard to understand?"
"It's your future!"
"I bloody well know that!"
"Well, then you should be at the match!"
"Maybe I'll find some other way to impress the Harpies!"
"Stop being so stubborn!"
"Stop being an idiot!"
Hermione, Ron, Luna and Neville sat around a table in the kitchen, perfectly capable of hearing everything the young couple was arguing about upstairs.
"Lovely tea," said Neville, stirring his drink animatedly, as if doing so would make it seem he wasn't listening in.
"Yeah, it's great!" said Ron a bit too loud. "What d'you say it was made of?"
"Just regular Earl Grey the Muggles are fond of," answered Luna, unaware that the other three were exchanging brief looks of relief.
The 'discussion' (calling it that was being merciful on everyone) had decreased in volume as the door had been closed, presumably due to a realization that their voices carried throughout the Manor, but muffled cries of frustration could still be heard.
"How long do you think they'll be at it?" asked Neville, giving up the pretense of enjoying his tea and settling his spoon down.
"I suspect for however long it takes for Harry to give up," sighed Hermione.
"No way," Ron disagreed. "He's right on this. I mean, we'll be here with him while Ginny goes to play. She shouldn't throw away her whole future for one evening at Harry's side."
"Thanks, Ron," said Ginny, staring icy daggers at her brother after having materialized by the threshold and scared half of them to death with her sudden appearance. "Well, you needn't worry, I'll be leaving. Even though I spoke to McGonagall and even though I found a replacement." She emphasised her words heavily, glancing back ever so slightly at what Hermione assumed was Harry lingering in the shadows behind her. The witch flicked her long hair over her shoulder and hefted her bag. "See you soon."
The room was left with quiet, so much so that they could hear Ginny slam the door shut before she Apparated away to Hogsmeade outside.
Harry shuffled in, his hands in his pockets. "Sorry about that. Thanks for bringing by her stuff though, Neville."
Neville smiled. "Don't mention it, mate."
Harry nodded and balanced awkwardly on his feet. "So . . . how are everyone? Do you need me to call Kreacher to get you anything?"
"We're fine, Harry," said Hermione. When she could tell he was about to slip away out of the room, she hastily cleared her throat. "Although, now that you mention it, would you mind coming with me to the library?"
o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
The Black family library was no ordinary one and for all the reasons to be grateful for that—seeing how they therefore had an abundance of rare books— it also managed to send a chill down Hermione's spine whenever she ventured in there by herself. Her. Of all people! Someone whose whole reputation was based on her loving books! She thought on what her friends would say if they found out that there was a library in which she didn't feel comfortable in. Nevertheless, Harry knew about her squirminess in that part of the Manor and wasn't one to deny her company; after all, scary or not, Hermione valued the knowledge residing within the pages of the heavy and ancient tomes.
"It feels like ages since we've been in here," she said, remembering seeking solace in the books after returning from the Battle. "Do you ever come here by yourself?"
Harry looked up from a book he'd idly been flipping through as he waited for Hermione to pick what to bring back to her room and read. "Hm? Er, no, I don't." As an afterthought he added, "I don't even stay in the Manor nowadays, really. It gets a bit . . ." He made a face as if having to swallow down something putrid ". . . depressing."
"Harry—"
"No, I know what you're going to say, Hermione. I'm fine. It was just a bad moment."
Hermione took a small breath, attempting to somehow gain more patience that way. "Harry, yes, it was a bad moment, but if you don't want there to be more . . ."
"Then what? I see a psychologist? That'll go over easy: 'Hey, I'm here to talk about this war I was in, I saw people die and even died myself. Oh, and I'm a wizard.'" He released the book in his hand, letting it fall back to the table with a loud thud. "They'll have me in a straitjacket before I can even be arrested by the Ministry for exposing the wizarding world."
"There are mind healers, you know. Like, witch and wizard psychologists."
Harry avoided her eyes, looking as if caught in a corner. "I still don't want to talk." Hermione could see how much it pained him to admit it, and how much he knew how childish he sounded, but if she also knew that if she didn't push him on this the consequences could prove enormous in the end.
"You need help."
Harry threw his hands in the air. "How could they help me? Nobody understands, Hermione! No one can! The things I've been through . . . the guilt . . . it's eating me up inside and no one understands!"
Hermione waited as Harry assembled himself again. He took off his glasses and pretended cleaning them, but there was an unmistakable glistening happening in his eyes.
Hermione swallowed back her own emotions, urging her voice not to waver. "Harry . . . we're all here for you. However much you feel you've lost, you still have us. So don't push us away. We might not understand right now, but if you don't talk to us about this you're just making sure we never ever will." She could tell he wanted to believe her, that he did have them and that he wasn't alone, but she also knew he was thinking about all the other people in his life that he'd lost and that having them couldn't make up for the fact that he felt responsible for the deaths of all his other loved ones.
Hermione studied her friend and decided that perhaps he needed to hear something she'd been avoiding telling anyone aloud, and though it was rather obvious perhaps it would help to hear her say it.
"I can't ever stop," she said. Harry looked up, noticing the change in her tone. She continued, "I preoccupy myself with everything I can find, so that I don't think about it. About what happened. About the war, the people we lost . . . about what I nearly lost. It's got so far that I'm looking at memories of the past. Of the time before our hunt."
She could tell Harry was surprised to hear her confession, but more so on that last part. "You watch memories?"
She nodded. She fidgeted a bit with her sleeves, telling him that it was to think back on simpler times and—as she mentioned before—to escape. "You and Ron escape through work, but I can't escape through school anymore, so . . ." She looked up again. "The point is, there will be a time where we can't escape and when that time comes we need to be prepared to deal with our thoughts and feelings catching up with us."
Harry still looked concerned, his brows drawn together. She could feel him watching her now, as if it was she who was in dire need of help. Perhaps she was. Now that she heard herself say the words aloud she couldn't help but admit that continuing this way would end in nothing but catastrophe.
"Anyway," she said, breaking the growing silence surrounding them, "if you won't talk to us, do you think you'd be willing to get help? If not for yourself, then for me? I'm scared for you."
"What about you?"
Hermione blinked in surprise for a moment, but then willed forward a smile. "I promise, if I have a breakdown, you're more than welcome to haul me by the arms to Saint Mungos."
Harry gave the smallest of grins. "I'll hold you to that."
o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
Hermione and Harry spoke little after that, both having instead found something light to read in amiable silence (not in the library, but a study nearby with comfortable armchairs). It had been a long time since either of them had done it and the comfort that came from something so familiar was felt by both.
Hermione knew Harry wasn't cured by any means, despite his now peaceful air around him. Though it was all right for now, she worried, she couldn't help it. But she could tell he was one step closer to . . . well, closure. It was a small step, but a step nonetheless.
With these thoughts in the back of her mind, Hermione read about some ancient magic found within London, feeling some of the stress and anxiousness about Harry's condition ebb away, until Ron dropped by, looking carefully around and dropping his shoulders in relief when finding his two best friends reading pleasantly.
"Harry, Hermione," he said, "Food's ready."
Harry closed his copy of old broom techniques, while Hermione carried with her the book she'd been reading, finding it to have been of some interest.
"You go ahead, I'll just go leave this in my room," she said. Hermione walked up the steps, slowing down only when she passed a familiar room visible from the staircase.
The twins' room.
A twinge of something sharp lodging itself in her heart made Hermione falter and take a step back. Even now, after all this time, she could smell the gun powder; even now, she could hear the bangs and yells of surprise coming from behind those doors as if it were yesterday.
Walking slowly, she approached the room, the smells and memories growing clearer with each step. But before she could push the door open, her hand stopped at the handle, the coolness of the metal waking her up, reminding her that there would be no warmth waiting for her on the other side.
She found herself thinking about how they all need closure. How Harry needed to move on from the war, and how nice it was to have closure with Ron.
Her hand tightened around the handle with new determination. She took a deep breath, feeling something well up inside, as if her body knew what she was doing and wanted to make it as hard as possible. She didn't want to cry anymore. She was sick of it.
So she closed the door without even stepping inside.
Well downstairs again, Hermione attempted to push all lingering feelings from before aside and focus on the present. She walked into the kitchen and was so surprised at what greeted her that she could already feel some of it slip away. She stared. There were cakes and mountains of food, all surrounded by banners of red and gold.
"What on . . ."
Harry, who'd been on his way from the fireplace since she appeared, smiled sheepishly. "I told Kreacher to do it this way. As if she'd really lose, you know?"
Hermione smiled. "Your faith in her is astounding. But you're right."
No more than an hour passed after that that Ginny burst through the entrance to Grimmauld Place, sprinting in her Quidditch gear to Harry and kissing him right on the lips. Harry was surprised at the turn of events and gently tried to ease her off of him, his cheeks red from the people watching, but Ginny kissed him harder.
"We won!" Ginny said when finally prying herself away. "We won, and a talent scout was there! She told me I could expect an owl from the Harpies!"
"That is fantastic, Ginny!" exclaimed Hermione.
"Well done, sis!" said Ron, despite having muttered to Hermione just a second ago that even a win shouldn't warrant a snog like that in front of her brother.
Luna and Neville congratulated her as well, but it was Harry Ginny was looking at.
"Thank you," said Ginny, looking into his eyes and palming his cheeks.
Harry grinned. "I did nothing, it was all you."
This made Ginny beam and kissed him again.
"Oh right, I was supposed to tell you, McGonagall is on her way."
The rest of them looked in surprise.
Ginny continued to explain, "We caught the prankers, the ones who've been hexing the Quidditch gear and she's off reprimanding them right now, but she really wanted to follow me here, Harry. I suppose she got worried."
If Harry had been red before, he was scarlet now.
o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
"What do you suppose they're talking about?" asked Ron, observing Harry and Professor McGonagall standing by the fireplace, speaking.
"It's none of our business, Ron," said Hermione, though secretly wondering that as well. She took a sip of her butterbeer. "Speaking of which, I sent a warning to a certain writer for the Daily Prophet to keep her nose out of this. What?" she added at the others' looks. "We weren't exactly discreet about going away, and people noticed according to Neville."
"I didn't say they were gossiping, exactly," said Neville, "Rather that we're . . ."
Ginny rolled her eyes. "We're famous, the lot of us, people were bound to realise we were gone. Thanks for making sure Harry won't have to deal with that too, Hermione."
"Dare I ask what you sent Rita Skeeter, or will I regret it?" Ron's expression was torn between curiosity and cautiousness.
Hermione waved him off. "Oh, it was perfectly harmless. I just sent her a bag of small liquorice treats. However, they might have been in the shape of beetles— but I assure you that was just a coincidence."
"You know it's not a coincidence if you charmed them to look that way, right?" Ginny grinned.
"Oh, they look like they're finished," said Luna.
Indeed, Harry was sauntering over with Professor McGonagall in tow. Her hand rested momentarily on his shoulder and he gave her a small smile which she returned.
"I thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Potter," said McGonagall. "It was nice to see you and I hope . . .I hope your health improves until the next time we meet."
"Thank you, Professor."
She smiled at him. Then she turned to the rest of them, specifically Luna, Hermione, Neville and Ginny. "And you four, I expect you all to return within the week, is that understood?"
"Yes, Professor," they chorused.
When she left, the others immediately turned to Harry.
He gave a shrug, looking happy. "She wants us to have tea once a week. She wants to tell me about my parents."
"Oh, Harry," said Hermione, hugging him to her. "I'm so happy for you."
"That's incredible, mate," said Ron.
And for one moment, everything did feel incredible.
o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
When they bade good bye to Grimmauld Place the next day, Ron and Harry stood on the threshold waving them off. Hermione watched them, feeling sad about leaving, but also confident in leaving Harry in Ron's hands.
And now, Professor McGonagall's as well I suppose, she thought, bemused.
It had been an amazing thing for their Headmistress to do, although a part of Hermione pondered why the old Transfiguration teacher hadn't taken it upon her to do so before. Though, of course, Sirius had told Harry a few stories about James and Lily Potter, but still . . .had it really been enough? Whatever the case, Hermione was glad that there was someone left to tell Harry stories about the past.
While on the subject of past . . .
"You can go ahead," she told her friends as they got off the carriage that had been waiting for them in Hogsmeade. Neville, Luna and Ginny (who had been in a sour mood the entire ride from having to leave her boyfriend) all gave looks of surprise. Ginny's eyes started to narrow and her brow began to raise inquisitively, but Luna took hold of her arm.
"Come now, Ginny, Hermione has something she needs to do, we mustn't bother her."
"Yes, but—"
The end of that sentence was drowned out by Luna beginning to explain her newfound theory about a conspiracy happening right now in Luxembourg, and how it could result in the extinction of the 'Moon Frog'.
"You'll be right behind us, yeah?" asked Neville.
Hermione gave him a reassuring nod.
When he was out of sight, she gingerly went up to the Thestral that stood obediently in front of the carriage. When it was clear it was okay with her approaching, she reached out a hand.
Hermione stroked the mane a couple of times, feeling the creature relax against her, and gave a heavy sigh. The determination she'd found the day before was still there, but now that she was here, when she was reminded of what she was stroking, it all got so much more difficult.
It was time to let go, she knew that, but . . .
She gave sob. "He's why I can see you now, you know—He's the reason . . . because I saw . . ." The tears were allowed to stream freely down Hermione's cheeks. Mostly because she didn't care. She sniffed loudly and willed herself to continue. "I have to let go, you understand, don't you? I truly hope you understand." She wasn't sure who she was talking to anymore, though knowing that Thestrals were said to be connected to the other side, maybe she was hoping they could give Fred the message, the message that while she had cared for him, she needed to . . . even if she didn't want to.
After a final pat, Hermione stepped away from the Thestral, allowing it to trot away. She squared her shoulders, and went up to the castle to watch the last vials, and after that . . . she needed to move on.
~o0o~
A/N: Wow….yeah, so Hermione is ready to watch the last of the vials! Are youuuu guys ready for that? (If I could send you all chocolate, I would)
I can't believe we're finally getting there, it's incredible!
There will be chapters after the last vial, so don't worry it won't all be over after that! So you have some time to get ready for the end (though I'm not sure just how many chapters there will be after the last vial hmm)
ALSO I am so sorry it's been so long! I've said this before, but schoooool! So much school! And I haven't had time to edit this chapter as much as the others so if it's choppy, then that's why! Hopefully, you understood what I was trying to say anyway *hopeful smile in your direction*
Anyway, I hope you're all doing well, and that you know how thankful I am for your continued support! Your reviews are lovely, just like you! Cinnamon buns, the lot of you! Nom nom nom
Until next time!
/Primrue