The notes of piano keys drifted slowly through the gloomy drawing room of Grimmauld as screaming echoed downstairs. The screams were barely audible over the familiar music being plucked out slowly by a wizard seated on the piano bench. An elegant dark grey cloak covered the wizard's back, and shoulder-length black hair shifted with his movements as his head seemed to follow his fingers. Sirius Black.
Even with his shoulders slightly slumped and his head down bent, there was an elegance about his figure as he slowly picked out keys of the familiar tune with one hand. Harry's heart thudded heavily in his chest as he watched the back of his godfather with a kind of strange desperation.
Those maggoty mud bloods will be the end of us all! Sirius didn't react to Walburga's scream, continuing to pick out notes on the piano.
"I didn't know you played the piano," Harry stated, his voice sounding strange to himself. His voice was strained from the emotion building in his chest as he stared at his godfather's back.
"I don't," Sirius replied, not turning. "My mother tried to make me learn, but I refused."
Rotten, filthy wizard, you'll get what's coming to you!
The tune picked up, and Harry finally recognized it. Fur Elise. Hermione had spent hours trying to teach it to Ron when they had been hiding here…
"I miss you." His throat tightened when he tried to speak again, some giant invisible hand choking off his words, preventing him from asking the question he was so desperate to know the answer to.
The question that made him feel like he was shattering from the inside whenever he thought about it.
Do you blame me? It was my fault, wasn't it?
"Not at all," Sirius said as if he heard Harry, not turning around. "Don't worry over me, Harry. Death is easy." Sly humor crept into his voice as he continued. "Quicker and easier than falling asleep." His hands slowed further on the keys as he reached the end of the piece. The last note lingered in the air. "It's living that's hard."
Harry's eyes snapped open as he woke up in Hermione's dark bedroom, his chest aching. He drew in a ragged breath, trying to control his wild emotions to keep himself from bursting into tears like a kid. He sat up quickly his legs shifting as he tried not to jar Hermione. An annoyed yowl echoed through the room as he dislodged Crookshanks from his comfy spot at his and Hermione's feet.
His voice was ragged, his nostrils flared as he tried to control his breathing. "Sorry, Crookshanks."
"Harry?" Hermione asked sleepily, shifting closer to him. "You okay?"
"Yeah." He said, the hoarseness of his voice and shaky breathing betraying the lie. He shifted further away from Hermione, throwing his legs over the side of the bed to get up so he wouldn't disturb her further.
Hermione reached for him, her hand curling into the side of his nightshirt and tugging to get him to lie back down. "Come back to bed, Harry."
Harry stayed sitting at the edge of the bed for a minute trying to make himself get up and walk away. Hermione's hand tugged again at the edge of his nightshirt, softly whispering his name. He let himself get pulled back by her laying down and Hermione shifted around him.
She curled up higher, adjusting their positions so he was pressed against her chest as she cradled him. Her hands ran through his messy black hair with long, soothingly slow strokes.
Even the offended Crookshanks came back, curling up behind Harry's back and letting out a low rumbling purr. "I'm okay," He whispered again, against Hermione's nightshirt, neither saying a word about the dampness.
Silence fell for a long time, and Harry thought Hermione wouldn't respond as she kept stroking her fingers through his hair, lulling him to sleep.
When her whisper came, it was so soft; Harry wasn't sure if he imagined it at first. "It's okay not to be okay, Harry. I'm here." Her hands went around him, hugging him tightly.
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Healer Purvis stared at Harry patiently, attentively, listening as Harry described his nightmare. The healer's hands were steepled as he regarded Harry, his lime green healer robes slightly bunched in his lap as he leaned towards Harry. The warm sunlit room used for the counseling sessions gave Harry a sensation of unreality as he described his dream. Such dark descriptions and thoughts didn't belong in this bright sun-filled room they used for counseling sessions. The rays of light seemed to shine on Harry almost mockingly. How stupid and small of Harry to talk of night terrors in the bright light of the day.
Harry plucked at a bit of orange cat hair he spotted on his jumper as he tried not to focus on the words he was saying, working hard on keeping his tone even. Hermione cast cleaning charms manically on the headrooms — honestly, Harry didn't think he'd ever lived in an area so clean. But somehow, despite her efforts, the occasional intrepid orange hair would survive.
When Harry paused, finishing, Healer Purvis asked softly, "Do you blame yourself?"
The question the healer had asked echoed between them, filling up the room, and sucking up all the air. Such a brief question to burst his illusion of keeping his emotions under control. Harry tried to breathe quietly and not let on how hard it was suddenly to make his chest fill with air. He felt a little lightheaded, almost.
Wouldn't that be so stupid? Harry had walked out to die in the dark forest–but he was going to suffocate and pass out rather than answer the softly asked question from the healer.
Honestly, he'd rather be fighting than talking in this bloody sunlit room. Give him the blind rush of adrenaline, the chaotic feeling of spells zinging past him barely missing him. That was easy. That was survival. Healing was a biweekly torturous hour in which every shameful and hurtful thought and memory banging around Harry's head was pulled out and examined under the sun's unforgiving bright glare.
How could Harry not blame himself? If he had somehow known more—been smarter—if he had waited–if he had acted quicker. Anything. If he had just done anything differently, maybe he could have some of them back.
Maybe if Harry hadn't panicked when he had the vision of Sirius captured in the Department of Mysteries. Why hadn't he remembered the mirror that Sirius had given him? Why hadn't he controlled himself better and thought it out?
Maybe if he'd figured out everything sooner—walked out to meet Voldemort sooner—found the Horcruxes sooner. Who would still be here?
Fred?
Colin?
Lavender?
Remus?
Tonks?
Their names were cuts, slicing away at pieces of his soul. Harry was so tattered now, old and worn despite being eighteen. He watched the first years with their bright eyes darting around soaking in the magic of Hogwarts. How they looked clutching the banisters with their little hands as the staircases moved. Had that really been him, Ron, and Hermione at one time?
Of course. Of course, he blamed himself.
Harry's lungs refused to expand while he tried to answer without crying. Dammit. Harry forced himself to breathe in slowly, reaching for control with occlumency. His fist clenched around the orange cat hair, remembering the stroke of Hermione's hand through his hair and Crookshanks purring against his back. Calm came to him slowly as he used both occlumency and the memory of Hermione comforting him. A phantom cold rush of air enveloped him and settled around him as the occlumecy took hold hardening him. His tears receded, and the weight lifted from his throat and chest, letting him breathe. Letting him speak.
"Yes. I blame myself for all of it. All of them." Harry told the healer firmly.
"Hmm." The healer said, steepling his fingers as if deep in thought. The healer leaned back slightly in his chair, his eyes not wavering from Harry's. "If I asked Hermione Granger if it was your fault—what do you think she would say?"
Hermione's name on the Healer's lips made anger shoot through Harry. Harry didn't want Purvis talking about Hermione. She was off limits. "She's my friend, so she doesn't see it clearly—"
"Ah. Who does then?"
"What do you mean?"
"Who blames you? Molly Weasley? Andromeda Tonks?"
Harry shook his head, disregarding the question, turning away from the healer to stare out the window to the sun-drenched picturesque view of Hogwarts. Occlumency had robbed the room of its warmth. Despite the sunshine, despite the brightness, his skin prickled with cold.
"I blame myself."
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Charlotte,
I'm sorry it took me so long to respond. Coming back to Hogwarts has been an adjustment, as you can imagine. Of course, I would like to see you and Caroline again. We're going into Hogsmeade pretty much every Saturday or if that's not convenient, let me know I'm sure I can work something out with the headmistress if needed.
Harry Potter
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Winter was fully upon Hogwarts, snow covering the ground, white and pristine. The class was over for the day and so a group of them had decided to visit Hagrid, as only Ron had elected to take Care of Magical Creatures upon their return.
They weren't a trio though anymore though as they headed to Hagrid's hut. Ron held Daphne's hand tightly as they went down the hill, and Hermione and Harry were shoulder to shoulder. Ginny walked along Harry's side while Theodore Nott was Hermione's other side as they made their way down the gentle slope of the land.
It had vaguely annoyed Harry that after discussing keeping away from Slytherins that one had somehow popped up into their group again. He couldn't say anything though after he had persuaded Hermione not to say anything about Ron taking Daphne.
It had irritated Hermione to have Ron push to include Daphne in their group and Harry couldn't help but wonder about her reaction. She had told him she didn't like Theodore Nott, but he hadn't talked to her about Ron. Was she as comfortable moving on as Ron was?
Hermione stumbled a little as she stepped down the last step towards Hagrid's hut and Harry caught her hand as she reached for him, steadying her. Her gaze darted to him briefly in appreciation, and she gave him a small smile, thanking him wordlessly.
Hagrid stepped out of the hut with a big smile, lumbering toward them with his arms outstretched. "Aww, I'm so glad ter see yeh all!"
Theodore and Daphne took quick steps back to avoid being crushed in Hagrid's arms but the rest of them awkwardly hugged him back or patted him as they were able in the crush of his arms.
Hagrid sniffled a bit above them, and his arms got even tighter, causing Ginny and Hermione to yelp while Harry and Ron tried to pretend they were fine, until Harry finally spoke up, "Having just a bit of trouble breathing Hagrid."
"Oh! I am sorry!" And he let them go taking a step back before taking out a handkerchief to blow his nose before sticking it back into his pocket. "We should sit out here. I don't know if I have enough room in me hut fer ev'ryone."
Even sitting outside on boulders, there wasn't quite enough seating, so Harry sat next to Hermione on one boulder, his hand resting behind her, partially bracing her back. Harry gave an easy smile to Hagrid once everyone was settled. "How have you been?"
Hagrid gave them a smile, his cheeks a bit red from the sun. "I'm doin' well. I'm grateful, Pro— Headmistress McGonagall kept me on teaching." He rubbed his head sheepishly. "I still forget sometimes ter call her tha' but she doesn't get mad at me."
Ron laughs," Don't worry Hagrid, I never remember. I don't think it bothers her too much."
"Sure, what witch would get mad at being called the wrong title?" Daphne muttered in a low voice and Hermione met her eyes in a moment of commiseration.
Hagrid, missing the by-play, nodded at Ron before his eyes roamed over the much bigger group of friends. "Are yeh all goin' ter Hogsmeade together then? It's good ter have lots o' friends."
They all glanced at each other awkwardly, it hadn't been something they discussed. Harry volunteered, "I'm going to be meeting my former partner from MLE, likely."
"Short stint at MLE, wasn't it Potter?" Theo asked curiously. He let out a soft grunt when Daphne elbowed him.
Ron saved the conversation again, interjecting to talk about the mounds of paperwork involved in the Aurors, but the fun that was had to track down criminals. "Anyway, as usual, me and Harry found Hermione was right, we should have just come back here for our repeat year." Ron finished off in a long-suffering voice.
Harry gave a small smile at Hermione. "You'd think after close to a decade we'd just be used to it already."
Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "One thing I've learned about both of you — is you are both the most stubborn wizards in Britain."
Hermione leaned back a bit more, resting against Harry's arm behind her, her hand finding his at her side, and laying over it. Both of them managed to miss the interested expressions on the rest of the group–even Hagrid's eyebrows raised slowly with comprehension.
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In The Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade, Harry had to focus on keeping his leg from bouncing as he waited for Charlotte and Caroline to show up. He hadn't seen Charlotte since that hospital visit and had been a laggard at replying to her letter.
Hermione sat next to him quietly reading another text on protection runes. Her right hand was under the table out of sight, tightly interlocked with his, quietly giving him support. Aside from his counseling sessions with Healer Purvis, Hermione was the only other one he had talked to about the incident that had caused him to quit the Aurors.
He hadn't meant to invite her to the visit, but after he confessed about his plans for Hogsmeade, Hermione had insisted on coming with him. Even though he had repeatedly asked her if she was sure she wanted to stay with him, Harry was relieved she had insisted. Thank Merlin for stubborn best friends.
Their barely touched butter beers foamed lazily in front of them on the table, charmed tankards keeping the butter beer warm. Ron, Ginny, Theo, and Daphne had all gone shopping to stock up on sweets and intended to finish up at the tea shop. Both Harry and Hermione had laughed at Ron when he told them he wanted to go to the tea shop.
Even now, the image of Ron's red face as he sputtered about wanting to go to Madam Puddifoot's made Harry's lips curl up.
"What's funny?" Hermione asked, looking over at him from her text.
"Nothing. Just remembering Ron's face."
Hermione gave an amused huff. "He was pretty obvious."
"It doesn't bother you then?" Harry asked as he studied her face.
"What doesn't bother me?"
Harry cleared his throat and pulled his butterbeer a bit closer. "Well, when Ron liked Lavender, you were pretty upset."
"Oh." Hermione paused, nibbling her lip. "No. We gave it a good go after everything and it didn't work out — which I would have told you about, but I barely saw you after the last trial."
"Sometimes—" Harry cut off as the door to the pub opened, looking over to see that Charlotte and Caroline had arrived. Charlotte was wearing a dark overcoat with slacks while Caroline was dressed in a warm frilly pink coat that made her look like something that popped out of a sweets jar.
Charlotte waved and made her way to their table while Caroline dashed in front of her mother arriving first. "Harry! Member me? Member at hospital and mummy was hurted?"
"Remember. It's 're' member." Charlotte emphasized the word as she came to the table next to Caroline, who was on her tippy toes while leaning against the table and staring up at Harry.
"Of course, I remember you." Harry stood up to give Charlotte a brief hug before they both sat down at the table. "Also, I brought someone for you to meet. Charlotte and Caroline Halstead, this is my best friend, Hermione Granger."
"Hello there," Hermione said, putting her book to the side to smile at them.
Charlotte's eyes widened when she heard Hermione's name. "Hermione Granger! It's an honor to meet you! I've read so much about you– and of course, Harry always talked about you."
Hermione's eyes darted to Harry as she shook Charlotte's hand. "Oh, really?"
"Oh don't worry, it was all nice things! The two of you make such a sweet couple!" Charlotte smiled widely.
Caroline's eyes darted between them. "Are you the princess, then?"
"Er–" Harry cleared his throat, red slashes on his cheekbones. "We're just friends, actually."
Caroline leaned further over the table towards Hermione trying to get everyone's attention. "Hi, lady. Are you the princess?"
"What? Caro honey, what are you even saying? Sit down properly, please. Do you want some hot chocolate maybe?" Charlotte tugged on the bottom of Caroline's pink jacket trying to get her to sit back.
"In the book mummy. And then the prince and the princess fought the bad wizard! And yes I want hot choccie and marshmallows!"
"Chocolate–chocolaate."Charlotte corrected again while Caroline nodded at her before she looked sheepishly at Harry and Hermione. "Um. We got her one of those children's books to help us talk to her about the war and everything happening…."
"Oh," Hermione said with a small laugh.
"What children's books?" Harry questioned.
Hermione bit her lip looking at him. "Oh, Harry. You didn't see them when you picked up all those baby books for Teddy?"
Harry looked between Charlotte and Hermione. "I was a bit distracted at the time. I'm not sure what you two are talking about?"
Charlotte looked at Hermione, who cleared her throat a bit uncomfortably. "Well, some of the children's authors have put out books about us fighting Voldemort but to make it more kid-friendly um—" Hermione paused and her face turned a little red. "They made you the prince and me the princess and we, uh, fight together to defeat the villain."
"What about Ron? Or—or Neville or everyone else?" Harry asked, confused.
"Well, you know that picture—" Charlotte started.
Of course, Harry knew immediately what picture Charlotte was talking about. After Voldemort had been defeated, the first thing he had done was look for Hermione and Ron. Harry had found them and ran toward them, straight into Hermione's arms. It had taken him long minutes to let go of her, and hug Ron too.
Some annoying Wizard had managed to capture the moment with his wizard camera for posterity and that was the image most people thought of–especially when the Prophet announced Voldemort's end and Harry's triumph by using that picture of him hugging Hermione.
"We're —" He looked over at Hermione and her hand covered his. "We're just best friends."
Caroline leaned forward again, ignoring her mum's tugging, and placed her little hands on top of Harry's and Hermione's, giving them a cheerful grin. "My mummy is best friends with my daddy, too!" She looked over at her mum. "Right, mum?"
Charlotte tried not to smile too widely and avoided looking at either Harry or Hermione as she tugged Caroline down to her seat. "That's right. Your daddy is my absolute best friend."
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Charlotte and Caroline's innocent words kept circling around and around Hermione's head as the next week passed. Hermione had several intense headaches and each time, even though she tried to ignore the pain or just take a nap, Harry always seemed to know—to sense something was wrong without her even having told him.
A low fire crackled in the small fireplace in the tiny common room they shared while dimmed lighting complimented the effect of the low flames so the room was well-lit but not bright. Harry sat next to her, one leg braced on the knee of his other to hold the book he was reading on healing spells for infants and toddlers.
Hermione was wedged next to Harry, her feet stretched out to the other side of the couch, her own book on protective spells in her lap, but she wasn't paying attention to it at all as she thought about their recent Hogsmeade visit.
She had spent so many years focused on Harry—how had she somehow missed he focused on her just as much? He was the one who had prompted Ron to look for her in their very first year when the troll had found her crying in the bathroom. When she had cried over her crush on Ron it had been Harry who had found her and comforted her. They had braced each other as they each struggled.
As they sat together, Harry's hand was comfortably thrown over her shoulder, his thumb moving back and forth in a pleasant motion against her skin.
"What are you thinking about?" Harry asked quietly.
Hermione didn't look at him, staring down at her book as the flames crackled. "I wanted all of this so badly." She laughed softly, closing her eyes to snuggle closer to Harry. "This is what I dreamed about sometimes when we were alone in the tent."
"Being head girl?" Harry teased.
She gave a sleepy smile, not opening her eyes. "No. Just being back here with you — and Ron, of course. Safe. Warm."
Harry didn't say anything, but his hand shifted, softly moving up and down her arm. After a minute, what she had said made Hermione's eyes open wide and she turned to him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—I know this isn't what you wanted—"
"No." Harry shook his head. "I didn't really consider the future like that at the time. I didn't really think there would be one for me, honestly. Being an Auror was cool to me, they seemed–" His lips twisted and he stopped shaking his head.
"Seemed what?" Hermione moved so that she was facing him, putting her book on the coffee table.
Harry shook his head again, his gaze on the fire. "Unafraid. Powerful. Things I wanted for myself."
Hermione gave him a disbelieving look. "You are the bravest, most powerful wizard I know."
"Brave people don't wake up…" He trailed off.
Hermione reached over, laying her palm against his cheek to move his head so he would face her. Harry's green eyes looked so dark in the flickering flames. Her hand moved slowly down his cheek before dropping back down to her side. "Harry, bravery isn't being unafraid. Bravery is how you act despite your fear. And if anything, I wish you were a little less brave. Maybe then you wouldn't worry me so much."
"Sorry," Harry whispered, their faces close together.
"Don't worry, you can make it up to me." Hermione meant to say it in a joking manner, but Harry's proximity and all the feelings she had been trying to ignore made her voice come out huskier.
Harry blinked down at Hermione not quite knowing what to say and she looked away blushing. "Okay." He swallowed trying to speak clearly. "I will, Hermione."
"I was just teasing, there's nothing you have to make up to me," Hermione told him softly, still looking down.
Harry leaned forward until his forehead rested against hers, closing his eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath. Her hair was still slightly damp from her shower earlier and her Hermione smell came to him so clearly. Vanilla and books.
"It's late." She told him, not moving away.
"Yeah."
"We should go to sleep."
"Yeah," Harry repeated, finally pulling back and putting his book on healing on the coffee table. He stood up first and held his hand out to her, pulling her up when she grasped his hand tightly.
They each went to their side of the bed. Harry put his glasses on the side table while Hermione sat down and put her hair in a loose braid to keep it out of her face while she slept. Crookshanks jumped on the end of the bed, giving his croaky yowl while he paced waiting for them to get in bed, pausing occasionally to knead the covers.
Harry got under the covers first watching the blurry motions of Hermione tying off her braid before she waved her wand at the lights, the room darkening as she got under the covers and curled close to him.
Hermione's skin felt soft against his hand as he cuddled her. Harry thought about what Charlotte said when they met in Hogsmeade, that her husband was her best friend.
Wouldn't it be nice to be with someone who was your best friend?