Title - Promise of Tomorrow

Category - Harry Potter

Genre - Romance/ Angst/Tragedy

Rating - Mature

Warning - Character death, PTSD

Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter.

Summary - Sometimes time is a cruel mistress. She doesn't allow you to say goodbye, to say 'I love you'. Courage is needed to stop putting off saying these things, for tomorrow isn't guaranteed. Tomorrow isn't coming. So be careful, oh so careful about what you promise. For broken promises can lead to shattered souls.

A.N – This is the second part of the edited version of Promise of Tomorrow, previously known as Tomorrow Broken Promise. I hope you enjoy.

The life of the dead is placed in

the memory of the living.

Cicero.

The war was finally over.

It was a surreal feeling, after 7 years Voldemort was finally gone.

The battle of Hogwarts came to a standstill as Voldemort body fell to the ground and did not move. Every Death Eaters could feel the moment of their masters demise, their marks flaring up in pain, making even the strongest groan and wither in pain until only a shadow of a mark remained on their arms. With their Lord motionless body and most of the inner circle dead, they began to retreat to save themselves. Running as fast as they could to exit the anti-apparating wards. Some of them tired to continue fighting, as if they were a cornered animal. Madness filled their eyes, desperation filled them that they were throwing spells at anyone nearby regardless of who or which side they were on.

The Light side was so more invigorated, on a high of killing Voldemort, and was eagerly giving chase, disarming and defeating the remaining Death Eaters.

Harry, did not feel happiness like everyone else, yes he was relieved but he also had blood on his hands. Stains he knew would never be removed. He bitterly smiled as people congratulated him, patting his shoulder or shaking his hand. He never wanted to be the saviour of the world but he was, he had never imagined living through it all.

He didn't.

Being dead, seeing the part of Voldemort soul was haunting. A part of him felt as if he was brought back slightly different as if his skin did not fit right, that something was lurking within his bones.

He made his way towards the Great Hall after not being able to see either of his best friends. He felt as if he was going to collapse at any given moment, his hands shook with fatigue and his head pounded terribly. He scanned the damage to Hogwarts, rubble everywhere, massive holes in the walls leaving what used to be his home feeling as damaged as he did. He saw those weeping over those they had lost, those who had not been taken to the Great Hall yet and he could not wonder how many people had to die. Voldemort was dead but there was so much left that needed correcting to make sure that didn't happen for a while. Because he knew that there would always be another Dark Lord, before Voldemort it was Grindelwald and he knew that there was someone else before him.

It was like Dumbledore had mentioned the balance between Good and Evil, but why did it cost so much? There would be a whole generation scarred from the war, who had to live in fear during part of their Hogwarts years, a place that was supposed to protect them.

Perhaps they will never get better, perhaps they could be the warning for the future generations. To warn their families about the horrors they saw in order to make a change.

He passed McGonagall who looked older and more tired than he had even thought was possible, he was glad she had survived. Her bun had become disarrayed with large chunks of hair touching her back of her neck.

"Have you seen Hermione or Ron?" Harry asked,

"Afraid not, Mr Potter. Although there are many students unaccounted for at the moment. Check the Great Hall." She advised, before composing herself and started to get a search for the missing students.

He wandered to the Great Hall and awkwardly stood near the door, watching as those who were alive embraced each other, and cried over those who they had lost. Each person's death hit him hard, it was another failure on his behalf. He wanted to have saved them all, he hadn't wanted anyone to die for the fight that he had brought to Hogwarts, there were safer beforehand.

He could see Dennis lying motionless next to his brother, both of the Creevey brothers would have faces of frozen fear and terror forever. They looked so tiny amongst the rest of the bodies and he paused in front of them. The brothers who were more Gryffindor than he could have ever imagined, heroes until the end of time. He quickly moved along the bodies, always taking a moment to stop and send a prayer for them.

His eyes burned from the threat of tears and he knew he couldn't break down now, for he may not stop.

He heard his name being called from behind him and he turned towards the Great Hall doors to see Ron standing there, the small grin they shared showed the relief of seeing each other again. He waited for Ron to walk towards him before pulling him into a hug, his arms shaking from relief. He felt Ron mutter something into his shoulder before they let go.

"Where's Hermione?" Ron asked, his voice strong although he wasn't fooled by the toll the battle had done to him after all his brother was dead. He had not had the chance to properly mourn.

"She's not with you?" Harry asked, dread filling him at the possibility that she was missing. His eyes scanned the bodies already in the Great Hall but he could not see anyone that matched Hermione's features.

"We got separated, Ginny needed my help with a Death Eater but when I turned to look for her she was gone," Ron replied. A tense silence filled the space between them, both fearing the worst. Perhaps it was too much for none of them to have come out the war on the other side unharmed.

They both turned as Moly came near them, looking devastated and weary,

he decided to give the Weasley family some space to properly mourn for the loss of one of their own. He didn't want to impose and he knew that Ron needed the space to mourn.

"I'm gonna go find her," Harry said, his hand squeezing Ron's arm as he passed.

"Everything's going to change now isn't it?" She said softly, her eyes searching his face as if it held the answer to everything.

He saw Ron look awkwardly at the display of emotions and move slowly away as Harry came closer to her. It took a while for her to look into his eyes to know that he was telling the truth, he places his hand of her shoulder to help ground her frantic mind and to focus on him.

"Yes," he said simply because it was the truth. Everything had changed yet at the same time nothing had changed. They were still alive and they knew they were going to have to fight against Voldemort now that he was officially back. They were still in a zone of unknown between their feelings, yet he didn't care.

He knew that they would get through it together.

For he didn't know how to cope without her. She held him together and mended the parts of him that broke. Through everything, she had always been by his side and he would be by hers, for as long as she allowed him too.

He searched the areas where the main battles had been held yet amongst the rubble, he could not see her at all. In a vain attempt to tried the library yet it had been destroyed and Pince was wailing miserably at the state of it all.

It wasn't until the desperation overcame him whilst walking back to the Great Hall, that tore at his chest and climb up his throat did he stop. Sliding downed the wall where the old Charms classrooms met the Dungeon passageway did he start breathing rapid scoffs of breath. He knew that he would find her wherever she was. He didn't know how long he sat there but felt someone place their hand on his shoulder.

At first, he could not help but believe that it was Hermione, her name spilling from his lips as he looked up hopefully but they died on his lips. He could feel disappointment fill him to see McGonagall standing above him instead.

She didn't say anything of his obvious disappointment but just helped him up from the floor, brushing the dust off his shoulders. It was clear that she had been crying from her red-rimmed eyes and it took a couple of tries for her to speak.

"She's in the Hall," she finally managed to say, her tone subdued yet it didn't register properly. Hope filled him instead as he started to walk back with McGonagall to the hall. He was so eager to finally see her, to tell her to what had been weighing on his mind for ages. After all the months travelling together, without her beside him felt as if he was missing a part of him.

"Harry.." McGonagall tried to talk to him but he wasn't listening and he couldn't hurt him right before the doors of the Great Hall. She just squeezed his shoulder before saying. "I'm sorry."

Confused filled him as he turned to look at her at the doors of the Great Hall but something caught his eye that took his breath away. He stumbled back slightly, nearly tripping into McGonagall who managed to steady him. He could hear faintly that she was trying to talk to him but all he could hear was a buzzing sound that was getting louder and louder.

He shook his head several times, closing his eyes in hope that this was just a nightmare but it wasn't.

He collapsed to his knees, causing alarm for those who recognised him however McGonagall waved them away, moving them away so that he could grieve. His eyes were solely fixated on a face, whose features he had memorised and knew better than his own face; her plump lips, her sharp nose, her wild hair framing her cheekbones. He couldn't even manage to stand the few feet that separated them and crawled over after his legs gave out the third time. Desperately hoping that by the time he got closer he would see that she was breathing, that she had mistakenly placed on the side of the Hall for the deceased.

But he didn't.

Her chest remained emotionless, her skin translucent and stiff looking.

He could see that there were two other children who he didn't recognise on the other side of her crying but he paid no attention to them. He slowly placed a shaking finger on her cheek, as if it would wake her up but her cheek was stone cold, making him jolt his hand back in surprise.

He couldn't accept this, it wasn't right.

Everything was just wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong!

Her lips that he often imagine kissing had turned blue and a small trail of blood from the corner of her lips had dried. He could hear something or someone whimpering like a hurt animal, it took more time to realise that the sound was coming from him.

"Hermione, please wake up it isn't funny anymore." Harry started to rambled hysterically. "You made your point now wake up, you have to wake up. We were supposed to go to France together, you can't break our promise. Please wake up, why aren't you waking up! I love you. I finally said it, I love you so come back, please."

Though many were mourning those they had lost, they left a respectable distance between the grieving hero and the love he was never able to express in life.

McGonagall ushered the children she had found away from the sight, tears streaming down her face as they recounted what had happened. How Hermione saved them and could not mourn her favourite student, a child she thought like her own. She would allow herself to mourn the loss in private later on, now though, now her students needed her to be strong for them all.

She watched over the Hall, witnessing the moment Harry mind cracked, as he started to rock, his hands pulling at his hair so violently that it took Ron and Neville to grab them, to stop him from harming himself. His cries carried through the room and she had to turn away as Neville and Ron carried his struggling body away from the Hall, away from Hermione as he tried to get free, tried to get back to her.

"Where would you go after all of this?" Harry asked, looking out towards the view the astronomy tower had to offer. It reminded him what it would be like to just fly away from it all. To feel the feeling of freedom he feels on a broom forever.

Just like flying was in his veins, being grounded was in Hermione's veins. The idea of equal justice for everyone made her strive for greatness in order to help causes she felt needed her. Ironically he was one of her cases in a way, he wouldn't be alive now without her and the fact that she didn't see it. Well, it was a quality he adores about her.

"If I ran away from all of this, it would have been a long time ago Harry."

Hermione answered, her eyes not looking at her friend as he huffed a chuckle. She was in too deep now to think of such fanciful ideas, her mind was already whirling about what she would do with her parents now that Voldemort was back. She knew they would go after them because of her, a fact that didn't make her decision any easier though she knew she had time to think what to do.

"Come on Hermione," He asked, nudging her shoulder, laughing at her shock expression. "I'm serious."

"I thought you were Harry." She replied without breaking stride, a smile playing on her lips as she turned to look at him. The wind was tossing her hair everywhere, her tanned skin had started to become rosy with the cold. In his eyes, she never looked more beautiful.

"I would go to France, I remember my parents telling me of this coffee store by the Eiffel Tower with a bookstore next to it, it's where they met." She answered, smiling wistfully at the place that she had imagined from all her bedtime stories of the place her parents met. They had made it sound so magical. " I would buy a book and just spend the day soaking in the sunshine, watching people walking by."

"I'll make sure you will be able to do that Hermione, I promise," Harry said with quiet confidently. Just to watching her light up about talking about the place, he could not imagine what she would look like actually there.

"Oh, Harry…" was all she could say before she hugged him. How could she tell him not to make those sort of promises? She did, however, appreciate the sentiment, yet she knew that realistically their chances would be slim of going to Paris together. She just stood there, her head on his chest listening to his heartbeat. It was reminding her of her resolve, she would stand with him until the end.

That was her promise.

It seemed like they both made unrealistic promises that day.

Love alone couldn't keep those promises from being broken. It just produced two broken souls.

The war had been over for a year now, and the British Wizarding community were stuck in the middle ground of wondering what to do next. The past was too painful to go back too, as it was full of those that they have lost and the future seemed too far away, like a dream. They were all a little broken, Hogwarts still had corridors full of rubble, second-year muggleborn children were terrified of the first year experience of the wizarding world. So many children experienced the effects of PTSD, unable to sleep without the terror waking them, older students could not sleep without a weapon of some sort in their hand. The effects of torture lingered on so many and some couldn't cope at all and took their own lives.

Newspapers would report every so often potential sights for the Boy-Who-Lived from America to Japan, although, the hidden truth from the public was that they knew where Harry was. He wasn't trying to find himself or take on dangerous creatures but in a padded room of Mungos. It was always a dreadful sight to witness their friend only through a window and not have him recognised them. His back was facing the window, his body curled in on itself and towards the padded wall of the room. His long untameable hair hid away his features away from any of his guest. It was explained by an on-duty Healer that he refused to have anyone touch it, even to brush it and if they even attempted to cut it, his magic would become havoc and he would start having a fit.

What would the world think of seeing their hero like this?

Molly had commented once after a visit that he was looking more like Sirius with his hair like that, making them wonder whether it was a symbolic thing to help connect him with all those he had lost. Whether it was so if he couldn't recognise himself, inside or out, then he might not be himself. Not the person who had lost so many, the person who was broken.

Not the person who had lost all his loved ones?

Would he be the person who had blood on his hands from all of those who died in his name?

Would he be the person who couldn't keep his promises? Who couldn't appreciate the father figure he had in Sirius before he died? Who couldn't say to Remus how much he relied on him? To tell the woman he adored that he loved her? Did she even know? That without her, he didn't know how to cope.

Not soon enough for him was the visiting hours over and the Weasley's and his other friends finally left the window that looked into his bleak existence, where they could go back to reality, read the columns of speculation of where he was and slowly put their lives back together again until this period of time would become a distant memory to them.

He felt less exasperated now that they were gone, he could finally think. They were just reminders of the past, of who he used to be.

But that not who he was now.

Now, he was just a broken man.

He thumbed the photo he had been holding close to him away from the window view of the two of them. It was a picture that had been developed on Colin's camera that he had given him just before they left their 6th year. It was just a random moment in front of the common room fire where Hermione had been laughing at something he had said, and he was looking at her with such warm affection that it hurt to look at for too long.

He sometimes wondered whether it was how his Dad had looked like when he gazed at Lily.

It was the only thing that had kept him from falling directly into the abyss of insanity, he was in there because he couldn't live without her, he had desperately tried but he couldn't, shadows haunted him, whispering to him. He wasn't trusted anymore to not take his own life, he had tried so many times but something always stopped him. Perhaps it was because in that split-second he could see her, pleading him not too.

One night after drinking too much in the library of Grimmauld place, a place that held fond memories of Hermione, Sirus and Remus something inside him broke. Now it was just a place that held all his broken promises.

it was that photo that had prompted him to call Ron through the fireplace when he cut his wrists open, the ghost haunting him became too much. It was his last night of freedom before he was placed in this room over 10 months ago, all that remained of that person was the red scars and the photo.

"I'll promise to use the mirror at Hogwarts, you'll be sick of me after a while."

"Remus, you need to go back to your wife, she needs you now. I promise I'll find you at the first sign of danger."

"I can't wait to try the pastries in France Hermione, I hope they do treacle tarts."

That didn't matter though. He would live out his life sentence within these white four walls, his penance for all his wrongs.

To appease all the blood on his hands that would never scrub off, no matter how many times he tried.

For he knew that in the afterlife, he would break any more promises. They were worth waiting for, worth living for.

She would be waiting for him.

A small smile formed on his cracked lips, his cheek muscles twitching at the lack of use as a tear rolled down unnoticed.

He would just have to content with his broken mind and his memories of her until then.

"Where would you go then, Harry?"

"Simple, wherever you are."