Waking Up
A/N: Hey there. Thanks for reading my first Harry Potter fanfic. I don't know how long it will go on for, to be honest, but I'd imagine a minimum of three chapters. As this is the first chapter, some potential issues may become clearer later on but please leave criticism nonetheless. The story will be canon compliant for the original seven books, but perhaps not for Cursed Child or things that J. K. Rowling had revealed outside of the original books. I won't intentionally disregard it for the most part, there are probably some details that Rowling revealed on Twitter or elsewhere that I'm simply not aware of
Harry Potter awoke suddenly. The room was dark, and he wasn't quite sure what time of day it was, or even what day it was for that matter.
The curtains were shut, albeit with some light coming from behind them, but whether it was morning, afternoon, or evening, Harry was unsure. Hands almost trembling, he reached for his glasses from the bedside table and put them on. Perhaps his eyes hadn't adjusted to being awake yet, but it seemed to be some point in the early morning.
Harry groaned and placed his head in his hands, absent-mindedly rubbing his eyes behind his glasses. He wasn't that tired anymore, but he didn't really want to be awake either. He had not exactly felt great before he went to sleep, given all that had happened just hours before he had, but as he had walked up to the Gryffindor Dormitories with Ron and Hermione, he had at least known that he was going to finally be able to sleep, and he had just enough time to feel just a hint of joy that he was, in fact, alive.
That had all worn off now; from this second onwards, he would have to deal with the losses of war. Voldemort was gone, but so were so many others, so many who deserved their chances to live. Harry knew that perhaps he should just be happy that he was alive, and that so many others still were too, but there must have been some way. Some way that Fred, and Remus, and Tonks, and so many other great people could have stayed alive.
Harry shook his head in an attempt to dispel such thoughts, and dragged his hands away from his face - his eyes had long since stopped needing rubbing - and checked his watch. The ticking second hand told him it was still working; the time was 6:17. It was ironic, Harry thought, that he was actually waking up at a rather normal time, but then again, for all he knew, he could have been asleep for more than a day.
Harry looked to Ron's bed to see if he was alone. He was not. Ron Weasley, ginger-haired and lanky, was laying on his back with Hermione Granger, bushy-haired and shorter, atop him, her body facing him, but her face tilted more towards Ron's bedside cabinet. How they had managed to sleep comfortably like that for however long they had been, Harry did not know, but a small smile played at his lips at seeing the two of them finally together.
Harry's thoughts then immediately went to Ginny, and his smile briefly expanded before dropping completely. Would she still want to be with him? Did she hate him for all he had put her through this year? Had she found someone else, even?
He shook his head again, a little more violently. He was being stupid, these thoughts were stupid. Probably anyway. But even if they weren't, Ginny should not be the first thing on his mind either way; she had her own family to think about, and he knew that the least he could do for her would be to stay out of her way, and be logical about the situation.
Ginny Weasley was alive. That was good enough for him.
Groaning again, this time in minor physical pain from the battle, Harry began to get up. He had never liked being alone with his thoughts, and today was no exception. If anything, it had the potential to become the worst example of it ever, so he decided it a good idea to occupy his mind.
He scanned the room; Neville, Dean and Seamus were not present, it was just he, and his two sleeping best friends. They didn't seem like they would wake without being woken anytime soon, but Harry decided to have a shower and just hope for the best.
Why he had not had a shower before going to sleep he was unsure, but he nonetheless felt slightly better having had one. Clean clothes were already waiting for him; Kreacher had delivered them last night along with a small selection of sandwiches, all of which had been eaten.
Harry felt large appreciation towards his house-elf, which, he thought a little guiltily, he had not expressed before going to sleep. Not that Kreacher would have been bothered, after all, Harry hadn't been actively mean towards him, but Harry felt it right to thank his effective servant.
Not wanting to wake his friends, Harry entered the bathroom again and shut the door.
"Kreacher," he called lightly, and the elf appeared with the crack that Harry had feared may wake Ron and Hermione had he not shut the door. It still might have, he thought.
"Master," croaked Kreacher, "How can Kreacher be of assistance?"
"I'd like to thank you, Kreacher," replied Harry with a smile.
"Thank Kreacher?" The elf seemed quite puzzled, or perhaps just in positive disbelief.
"Yes, Kreacher," confirmed Harry, "You did very well during the battle, and you were very helpful before me, Ron and Hermione went to sleep."
Kreacher didn't reply instantly. He sniffed and wiped his eyes; Harry wondered if he would burst into tears. He didn't, instead he held them in and gently hugged Harry's legs.
"Thank you, Master," sniffled Kreacher, "Is there anything else Kreacher can do for Master?"
Harry knelt down and held the little old elf's arm, "Nothing at all, Kreacher. I know you like working, but please feel free to relax if you need it. I'll send some Aurors to make sure Grimmauld Place is safe, and I'll let you know when you can return there."
Kreacher looked even closer to crying. As much as Harry did not exactly find such a noise pleasant, he did not want to let the elf hold in his tears.
"You can cry if you need to, Kreacher," Harry told him softly.
"Kreacher does not want to wake Master's friends," explained the elf. Harry almost chuckled.
"Okay then, Kreacher, if you don't want to disturb others, you can always find somewhere safe and private to cry. You can go now." Harry wasn't sure if it was right to basically tell Kreacher to cry in private, regardless of why, but it wouldn't exactly feel right if Kreacher went to a random, populated place in Hogwarts, crying happily because Harry Potter had been nice to him.
"Thank you, Master," Kreacher said again, and disapparated with another crack, once again, perhaps loud enough to wake Ron and Hermione. Harry left the bathroom as quietly as he could, but this attempt proved to be null and void, as one of the cracks - presumably the second - had indeed woken his friends.
Ron and Hermione were smiling sleepily at each other, now holding hands. It was an image that Ron himself might have called sloppy had it been anyone that wasn't him, but Harry on the other hand couldn't help but have his spirits lifted slightly once more at the sight of his two friends having found comfort in each other. However, as he shut the bathroom door behind him, his thoughts returned to Ginny, and his small smile faltered for a split second as his Ron and Hermione looked up at him.
"Harry!" Hermione almost laughed his name out, she moved to sit up, whilst still not letting go of Ron's hand.
"Alright?" asked Harry, intending the question rhetorically, but he quickly realised it probably wasn't the best thing to ask in any manner given the circumstances. "Sleep well?" That was the next question he could think of.
"Yes, thank you." Both Ron and Hermione responded at the same time, before chuckling gently. It was almost like a joke that they both knew was obviously coming, but, Harry supposed, it could only be so funny after all they had just gone through.
"What about you, mate?" asked Ron, a little more seriously, "Any bad dreams, or...?"
Harry thought for a minute, a little taken aback. It hadn't hit him until now, but he actually hadn't had any bad dreams. "Well, no," he answered Ron, the surprise audible in his tone. Ron also looked positively surprised at this news, and even though Hermione didn't quite look convinced, she also looked considerably less skeptical now than he had seen her in other situations.
"I didn't," Harry tried to assure her anyway. "I probably will," he added with a dry scoff, "but I really didn't.
"Good," said Ron, sounding half-cheerful, as he and Hermione stood up. "I mean, not that you think you'll have them obviously, but it might actually be a good sign that you didn't tonight!"
"Maybe," replied Harry. He doubted this, but he did not want to bring down his friend's mood after having just lost a brother.
"Shall we go and find your family, Ron?" asked Hermione, looking up at him. "I mean," she turned to Harry, "What's the time?"
"Probably nearly seven-ish," replied Harry, remembering the time from earlier, but looking at his watch anyway just to convince Hermione, "And I think we should check the map to see if they're awake or not, wherever they are."
Ron and Hermione both nodded automatically in agreement, and came over to Harry's bed as he grabbed the Marauder's Map from his bedside cabinet drawer and placed it on the bed.
They found the Weasley family right away; all in the Gryffindor Common Room. All, thought Harry, except Fred. He wondered if the same thought had come to the other two upon seeing all of the other Weasley's together on the map, but didn't look up to see if it were visible on their faces. Surely, Ron at least already had it on his mind anyway.
No one was moving, but this was not indicative of whether they were sleeping or just not walking around.
"You may as well take showers first," suggested Harry, "Then they might be more likely to be awake when we get down there."
"Are you implying that I smell bad, Potter?" snarled Ron.
Harry and Hermione's heads snapped up almost in unison to see Ron with a small smirk on his face. It was not a completely smug or confident one, nor a shy, anxious one waiting for a reaction; it was a tired, but almost determined smirk. Harry let out a snort of amusement, while Hermione gave a smaller sniffle of laughter before flinging herself up at Ron and hugging him tight. She shook, Harry could see from behind, but she was clearly laughing, not crying.
It felt good to hear Ron make a joke. Just for a brief few seconds, Harry felt a little bit of joy. Not just because the joke was funny to him, but because Ron had said it at all. The pain was far from gone, but in that moment, Ron had tried (and succeeded) to bring that much more light to the three of them, and the fact that he had tried was more than enough for Harry. He was sure Hermione felt the same way.
"Alright then," sighed Ron, "I'll have my shower first." He and Hermione separated; perhaps they had kissed, but Harry was unsure, as he had been facing the bed as he had laughed. The couple's hands, held up to Ron's shoulder level and joined together, dropped down to his hip level and slid out of each other, as Ron made his way, backwards, to the bathroom. (Harry had to remember to throw him in a towel before Ron shut the door).
Harry moved up to sit on his bed just as Hermione sat down on it. She was smiling, and it was a genuine smile, but Harry could see the sadness and exhaustion in her eyes.
"So," said Harry, in his own attempt to brighten the mood, "Finally official, after more than six years."
Hermione smiled over at him, eyebrows raised, and shrugged nonchalantly. "If that's the way you'd like to look at it."
"That's the way everyone will look at it," chuckled Harry.
"So be it," Hermione shrugged again, "I guess I'll just have to be more involved with the way he and I view each other than other people."
Harry nodded, there wasn't much he could respond to that with. He only wondered if Ron would take to other people's teasing as kindly as Hermione had. If people would really be up for teasing, he thought, before frowning and rolling his eyes at himself for letting such a depressing thought enter his head.
"What do you think you'll do about your parents?" he asked Hermione, and she sighed.
"I don't know right now. I can't go and get them straight away, but, I want to do it before I come back to school.
"You're coming back here?" Harry asked, incredulously, and immediately regretted it, even before she had time to look up at him with a surprised and a rather offended look of her own. He didn't know why he was so shocked; it shouldn't have been surprising that Hermione would choose to come back, even if it wasn't a given.
"I intend to," she replied, not outright angrily, but impatiently enough, "I know we've just fought a war, and maybe I'm thinking about it a bit too soon, but-"
"No, no, you're not. I'm sorry, Hermione," Harry said, shaking his head, "I don't know why I said it like that, I just, I guess I hadn't thought that far along yet."
"It's okay," Hermione replied, with a small smile and nodding gently, though Harry wasn't sure if she genuinely didn't mind or just didn't want to argue.
"What about you and Ginny?" asked Hermione, quite suddenly.
Harry said nothing for a moment, he didn't particularly want to talk to anyone about his situation with Ginny, but holding the truth from Hermione had rarely, if ever, been the best choice in the past, especially when they came to Ginny.
"I don't know," he admitted, not looking at Hermione, "I mean, I've really missed her, and obviously I never wanted to break up with her, but... by now I could have lost my chance with her."
There was more to it than that. Much more. But Hermione understood, he was sure. He looked towards her again, but she stayed silent.
"Well?" he asked, expectantly.
"'Well', what?"
Harry blinked, a little taken aback. "Well, you normally have something to say about this. And you're normally right."
Hermione looked away briefly, her lips tightened a little, almost as if she was considering what to say. "I don't think I should be telling you what to do about this, Harry." She paused, once again, looking as if she were thinking about what she wanted to say.
"In a time like this, you can't be doing something just because I've told you. You need to figure it out yourself. I'm probably telling you too much by saying that."
It was not a harsh statement, although it was not something that Harry wanted to hear, and Hermione clearly knew it. Harry opened his mouth to say something, but he knew it would be no good. It was hard enough to change Hermione's mind as it was, but here was another case.
Harry knew she was right. She wasn't there to solve his problems for him. She had her own issues, finding her parents among them.
Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair, as he tried to rationalise his thoughts. He had missed Ginny, he wished he could have had all of the time in the world with her, and much more. If he had lost his chance, he would have to accept it, like Ginny accepted him breaking up with her last year.