Seek

I don't know what I was looking for when I called out to her. I was too numb to feel relief when I sagged into her waiting arms. She smoothed my hair, ran her fingers over my scar, whispered, its over now. It's over now.

"Harry, it's over. It's all over." She spoke the words; she breathed the words as though they would sustain her.

I was too numb to think. I wandered to her. Hermione. The sight of her wild hair sustained me as I went to her, collapsing into her. Parts of me wondered why I ran to Hermione. Parts of me wondered what I expected to find. Parts of me were so overcome by something…stifling, something akin to exhaustion, except my body had far surpassed all mortal bounds of exhaustion. I slipped away in her arms.

I'm not sure what I sought to find there. It was a war, even after Voldemort defeat. And I didn't feel happy. I didn't seek happiness from her. I didn't seek peace. Neither of us was ready to be at peace. It would come later, with resigned acceptance that our lives traced paths none should ever have to, and the actions we carried out were just. But in the moments after the final defeat, I didn't seek to feel peace.

I sought her, not sure of what I would find there. Unsure of why I knew I needed to find her. But I turned as his body fell to the earth, an ashy mass, and dove into her. She received me, without knowing how I was coming, what I was bringing with me, or why I came to her. She received me.

"Hermione."

"Harry."

"It's—He's--"

"Over. Harry. Over." We had made our way to he ground, slumped against the remaining stump of the whomping willow that Voldemort's Reducto left behind Our arms were curled around each other's. I can't remember how long we sat. I forgot where I began and she ended. Where I ended and she began. It all became vague, who I was without Hermione, who she was without me. I looked at her; her tired eyes hadn't lost that triumphant shine. Something clicked, somewhere, as parts of me questioned why I went to her. Why I needed her. What I expected to find in her.

I loved her. She knew. And she loved me. Always had. I could see it now, as everything else fell away and I sought her above all else. We didn't say we loved each other. We didn't have to. Against the tree stump we collapsed against each other, unable to say where we began or ended, because we didn't begin or end with each other. We had grown into each other over the years, and were now inseparable. We lay against the tree, her absently tracing my scar. Me, watching her breathe. And if we walked away and never mentioned it, I'd still know. She'd still know. It's unspoken between us, in the air for us to breathe and live off.

I tried once, to tell her before we fell asleep.

"Hermione."

"Harry."

"I…"

"I know."

"I knew you would."