For the QLFC S6 Finals Round 2

Prompt: An uneventful moment when today became tomorrow… those are the kind of moments I live for. (Anonymous)

Optional prompts: (object) umbrella, (word) passing, (quote) "The belonging you seek is not behind you; it is ahead." - Maz, Star Wars: The Force Awakens

The passing of time comes and goes after the war—at first slowly, and then all at once.

Hogwarts is reconstructed one painstaking brick at a time. Harry comes to help, of course, but it seems like there's a never ending stream of building and re-charming and fixing and decorating. Each day stretches long and hard. Harry examines the clock and it's as if each minute contains an hour. All the while, the constant pain in his chest dulls, but remains an ever constant presence as he quietly mourns the loss of his loved ones.

Everything else comes at a dizzying pace. The reporters come swarming like bees and Harry is thankful that both Professor McGonagall and Ms. Weasley are adept at shooing them away. He stays at The Burrow for a bit before moving into 13 Grimmauld Place, which is empty and lonely. He spends most of his days in a daze.

Half of him can't believe it's all over. This is the half that wakes up in cold sweat, hands groping for the wand under his pillow and casting around in panic before realizing that it's just Kreacher in to tidy the room. The other half wanders around in a listless cloud, having been almost completely severed from any resemblance of an ordinary life.

He visits the graves often to talk to his mom and dad, even though they can't hear or see him anymore. He yearns for the resurrection stone so badly sometimes that he knows it was right to toss it. He visits Remus' and Sirius' graves—the ones he made for them—and talks to them as well. At Hogwarts, he talks to Dumbledore's portrait, who is always happy to chat, but tells him chidingly to go outside and talk to some real people instead.

"The belonging you seek is not behind you," Dumbledore tells him, gazing at him solemnly. "It is ahead, my dear boy."

Harry doesn't know what to say to that, so he just leaves.

Later, Hermione finds him in the almost completed Great Hall and asks him if he's going back to school for his eighth year. Harry hadn't even known that the school was even functioning enough to run a regular school semester. Hermione explains that Professor McGonagall is a force to be reckoned with when she sets her mind to something.

He asks if she's going.

"Yes, of course", she says. She looks puzzled, as if he just asked the most obvious question. "Aren't you?"

He doesn't have an answer. So Harry wanders off again and finds solace by the Great Lake, staring into its depths. The obsidian monument with the names of those lost in the war stands tall and proud behind him.

It's raining today and the water seeps into his clothing, chilling him to the bone. Harry knows, logically, that it's just Britain being, well, Britain, but it's hard to shake the notion that the weather can sense his mood and is reflecting it back at him. He doesn't have an umbrella with him today because he hadn't thought he'd need it two months into the summer.

All of a sudden, the rain stops. Harry looks up.

"You'll catch a cold in this weather, mate," Ron says, holding a bright red umbrella over his head.

Harry smiles appreciatively at him and makes room by the shore. Ron crouches down with him and rests the umbrella in between them, even though it means that both their shoulders will get soaked.

"So what's bothering you?" Ron asks.

Harry is silent for a long time, so Ron skips rocks on the lake while waiting. Harry counts five beats before the pebble sinks into the depths of the lake.

Finally, he says, "I don't know. Everything I guess. I don't know what to do next, and I don't know what comes after all this."

He throws a pebble into the lake with perhaps more ferocity than necessary. Zero skips, he notes absently.

Ron gives him a sidelong look. "Did Hermione come talk to you about attending school in the fall?" he asks.

Harry looks up. "She talked to you too?"

"Yeah. She means well, you know."

"Yeah, I know," Harry sighs. "So are you going then?"

Ron wrinkles his nose. "Hell no. I wouldn't go back if you prodded me with an 8 foot stick. I loved Hogwarts, but more education probably won't do me any good."

Harry looks at him curiously. "So what are you gonna do then?"

Ron hums absently and tosses a stone in his hand. "Take some time off maybe? Help out in the store too. I think George could use a helping hand since, y'know."

It makes perfect sense for Ron. Harry can picture it already. He's always been more people orientated and the store will give him a sense of excitement and energy, while also allowing him to be close to his family. He pictures Hermione as well, throwing herself into her studies just as she always had, becoming the best at whatever it is she wants to do.

And then there's him. He had never been motivated by anything. He's been running his whole life—from the Dursley's, from Voldemort, from responsibility. Aside from a general dream to have a family in the future, he's completely lost.

"And what are you going to do?" Ron asks.

Harry still doesn't have an answer, but an idea strikes him suddenly. He'd like to travel, he thinks. He wants to see more of the real world. He wants to get away from it all, this world that gave him everything, but also took away everything.

"I'm leaving," he says, suddenly, breathlessly.

"What?" Ron says, brow scrunched up in confusion. "You're leaving? Where? When?"

"I don't know," he says truthfully. "But I've got some money saved up still from my parents. I figure it out. I always survive somehow, don't I?"

Ron turns fully and gazes worriedly into his eyes. "If you're absolutely certain, then I won't stop you," he says finally. "You'll keep in touch won't you?"

"Yes, I—yes," Harry says distractedly. Now that the idea is in his mind, he can't seem to shake it. His entire body burns to leave.

He looks at Ron and misses him dearly already, misses his companionship and witty jokes and loyalty. He hugs this man fiercely and hopes that it's a good enough goodbye.

"I've gotta go," he mumbles. He hurries off the premises even as Ron shouts his name behind him.

And in his chest, something breaks free.