Chapter 2 - Defining Moment and Motion (Prompts)

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They had been sitting quietly for some time, both in their own worlds, with their own thoughts. Harry with his elbows resting on his raised knees and Hermione sitting cross-legged beside him as she occasionally plucked blades of grass only to play with it for a moment and then discard them.

He became aware of how she shifted uncomfortably, her glances falling on him only to look away quickly. She was fighting the urge to tell him something.

Finally, with a defeated sigh, she looked at him carefully. "We should go back."

He wanted to, he really did. But he found his feet glued to the ground. He wanted to go back in to the castle and give his assistance, but a part of him just wanted to wait. Wait until it was all over, everyone knew what they needed to do and all he had to do was take orders. He had lived enough of a life giving orders.

"Harry." Hermione's voice nudged him lightly. "You can't stay here forever. People are counting on you." At his responsive silence, she let out a despondent sigh. "Ron is counting on you."

That last sentence shook him. He couldn't help but feel a selfish need to stay where he was and wallow in his self-pity. Ron wasn't the only one who had lost someone last night. Was he supposed to go comfort his mate instead of dealing with all the deaths that had happened because of him? "You should go," he said softly. "Go to Ron, I mean."

Hermione let out a light laugh. "I tried. He just..." She plucked another blade of grass, rolling the leaf between her fingers as she frowned thoughtfully at it. "He doesn't want me to," she muttered softly.

Harry turned to face her for the first time during this conversation. "He doesn't want you to?"

Shrugging, Hermione flicked the crushed up piece of grass away from her. "He won't talk to me. If anything, he's been avoiding me," she said sarcastically.

"I'm sure it's in your head."

"I'm sure it's not."

Harry watched her as she picked another piece of grass, then another, and another. She did the same to every leaf, crushing the blades until they were pathetic balls of green before discarding them. If he hadn't spent months with her, he would have thought he couldn't remember the last time she seemed so agitated. Only thing is, he did.

"Ginny's looking for you," Hermione said cautiously before she sneaked a peak at him.

Stubbornly, he looked away from her.

"You shouldn't be avoiding her."

Deep down, he knew he missed that absolutely bossy tone of hers. Since the beginning of the Horcrux hunt, everything had been uncertain. It was refreshing to hear something that reminded him of the days before. Fighting a smile at her tone, Harry mumbled lightly, "I'm not."

"Harry," Hermione laughed, "the one thing you have in common with Ron, and which I absolutely hate is your communication skills. It's just awful." Her tone became suddenly serious. "She's looking for you. You should go talk to her."

"And tell her what? Sorry about what happened? She doesn't want to see me, Hermione."

Hermione shook her head. "You're wrong." In one fluid movement, she stood up, dusting her jeans in the process. "Are you coming?"

Harry squinted up at her through his glasses. "You came here to drag me in, didn't you?" He shook his head, a clear sign of disagreement. "I'm not ready yet."

"You know, we don't have only one defining moment in our lives. I know you think yours was when you faced Voldemort, but that was only one. How you react now, how you care about others are all defining moments; not just for you but for those around you. You can't hide forever, Harry. You knew you couldn't hide from your fate, and this is no different. You can't hide from the expectation of others. They look up to you. I know you didn't ask for it, but if you can help them through this, shouldn't you?"

Harry kept his jaw locked shut. If he didn't, he would have snapped at her for insinuating that he had no control over his life even after he had vanquished the one thing that had kept him from a normal life.

She looked at him kindly. "Just think about it." And with that passing statement, she turned around and started heading to the castle.

Harry watched her for a moment, a million retaliations working in his mind, before he too got to his feet and followed her. At that moment, he had only one penetrating thought in his mind: he hated it when she was right.

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