Word Count: 6453
Blocked (I Can Feel You)
Never did Harry think that he would be willing to beg the greasy git of a Potions Master, but he was ready to get on his knees and beg Severus Snape if it meant he would brew him the potion he needed.
"You know it's restricted mostly for the use of Aurors and Hit Wizards, Albus," Snape said, a sneer turning his lips up as he glanced at Harry.
Harry was pretty sure that he was practically exuding desperation at this point, but he didn't care.
"Even you must admit that it's necessary in the care of our Mr Potter, Severus," Dumbledore said. "As much as I would like to deny the need for it, it's unlikely that Harry will escape the war unscathed, and given that we don't know who his soulmate is, it's a necessary evil."
"It's unnatural, is what it is," Snape muttered, before he let out a long sigh. "But fine, I'll brew the potion for Potter. If I start it immediately, it'll be ready just before he turns seventeen."
Snape swept from the office, his cloak billowing behind him, as was his way. The melodramatic prat.
"What does he mean, that it's unnatural?" Harry asked, turning his attention back to the Headmaster.
"Ah. To suppress a soulbond isn't the most comfortable thing for anyone involved, Harry. While I do believe that it's necessary, in your case, as it is in the case of Aurors and Hit Wizards, as Severus said, it will likely feel very odd to you."
Harry nodded.
It wasn't that he wanted to suppress his coming soulbond, but there was the unfortunate fact that people were continuously trying to mortally wound or kill him. Given that his soulmate would feel any pain that he felt, he really didn't want to inflict that on someone innocent.
"Hopefully, it won't be too long before you can forego the potion and find your other half, Harry."
Harry smiled at the thought, even as, in the privacy of his own mind, he doubted it. While the Headmaster seemed to have the faith that Harry could, in fact, defeat Voldemort, Harry himself wasn't quite so convinced of it.
"Severus will have the potion delivered to you, with the dosage instructions, before your birthday, Harry. For now, I believe you should go and pack yourself for the summer. The train arrives tomorrow, after all."
Harry stood up, and smiled at the Headmaster. "Thank you, Sir. I'll see you soon."
"You will, my boy. You will."
…
Spending the summer at Grimmauld Place was undoubtedly a better option than spending it isolated with the Dursleys, but with Sirius gone, it still wasn't the nicest place to be.
Harry couldn't help but imagine his godfather prowling the halls, frustrated by the way that he'd basically exchanged one prison for another. He wished that he could go back and change things, but he knew that wishing for things like that would only drive him mad in the end, and he tried to push the thoughts away.
The upside of the summer was that he wasn't alone at Grimmauld Place. Almost the whole Weasley family were staying with him—the older members already having moved in before Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny disembarked the Hogwarts Express in London.
They were planning to be there for the whole summer.
Harry had allowed the Order to continue using the house as Headquarters, which was handy, given that Dumbledore had promised to allow Harry to start sitting in on meetings.
Despite his youth, Harry was a part of the war—a rather large, important part, unfortunately—and the Headmaster had agreed that he had a right to know what was going on. A few of the members—Molly being the loudest—hadn't been happy about it, but none of them would actively go against Dumbledore.
Two days before Harry's seventeenth birthday, Snape arrived at the house and pulled Harry unceremoniously from the kitchen into the empty library.
He warded the door shut, and silenced the room so that they couldn't be overheard, before he turned to Harry.
"You must take this weekly, Potter," he said, handing over a decent sized vial of shimmering purple potion. "One spoonful, taken at the same time every week, or the effect will wear off. You cannot mix it with alcohol within twenty four hours each way of taking it, and you cannot eat eggs for the same amount of time."
Harry snorted, unable to help himself. "Eggs?"
"I won't bother trying to explain the intricacies of the ingredients to you, Potter, I have no doubt that you wouldn't understand them," Snape said, rolling his eyes. "Repeat the instruction back to me."
Harry did so, and Snape nodded his head.
"Remember, Potter, that the potion only works one way. You will still feel any pain your soulmate feels, but they won't be able to feel any of yours, so if you happen across them, don't be concerned."
Nodding, Harry said, "Thank you, Sir. I know you find the use of the potion distasteful, so thank you for making it anyway."
"I find a lot of the things about this war distasteful, Potter," Snape replied, sighing. "I'll take my leave before I fall foul of the horde of redheads that have overtaken your kitchen."
Laughing softly, Harry pocketed the potion and followed Snape from the library. Snape left in the direction of the front door, while Harry returned to the kitchen.
"What was that all about?" Bill asked, looking curiously at Harry.
"He fetched me a potion that Dumbledore requested from him, that's all," Harry replied quietly. He looked at Bill's plate and wrinkled his nose. "What on earth are you eating?"
"Liver," Bill replied. "Since Greyback, I uh—"
"Enough said," Harry said. "But also, ew."
"Told you that it looked disgusting," Charlie said, patting Bill's shoulder. "You should stick to steak. Even cooked rare it's better than… that."
"Gets boring after a while," Bill said, shrugging his shoulders. He looked back at Harry. "What was the potion?"
"Hmm?"
"That Snape fetched for you? What was it?"
"Oh." Harry looked down at the table. "It's to block out the soulmate bond on my end. You know, since people keep attacking me and all, I didn't think it was fair to whichever unlucky sod I end up bonded to."
Bill's eyes widened slightly. "Oh. I'm sorry, Harry. That sucks."
Harry shook his head and managed a weak smile. "It's… it is what it is, right? One day, hopefully, I'll be able to stop taking it, but until then, it's the only solution we can think of. It's not even just about me being attacked, either. The training I do with you lot leaves me with plenty of aches and pains daily. It really wouldn't be fair."
"I'm still sorry," Bill replied, sighing. "It's a sucky potion to have to take, whatever the reason."
"Yeah. Yeah, it is."
…
"Oh my god," Harry gasped, flopping down on the mat in the middle of the training room. "I thought you said you were going to give me a break today, Kingsley!"
Kingsley snorted, chuckling. "I did."
"Lies," Harry complained. "You're a lying liar!"
"Nah, you're just not that good at shield charms."
Harry sent a sly stinging hex at Kingsley, and laughed when the older man yelped when it made contact.
"Apparently, neither are you."
"Oh your feet, you brat," Kingsley ordered, shaking his head, even as he grinned widely. "If you've still got enough energy to hex me, I haven't worked you hard enough yet."
"Brutal. I think I'd rather take my chances with the Death Eaters," Harry grumbled as he pushed himself to his feet and shook out his limbs. "They're not nearly as inventive as you."
Kingsley smirked as he stepped into a duelling stance, his wand aloft. "Thank you. Now. Shield."
…
Dumbledore collected Harry from the house midway through the summer, just a couple of days after his seventeenth birthday. Harry felt a stirring of nerves as the Headmaster explained that he thought he'd manage to locate one of Voldemort's Horcruxes.
While he'd promised to let Harry help collect them, Harry had wondered if he'd actually follow through on that promise, given his penchant for trying to protect Harry from, well, everything.
Together, they travelled to Hangleton. There, they found, collected and destroyed the Gaunt ring.
Harry couldn't help but be thankful that he was there when Dumbledore attempted to place the ring on his finger. He'd never thought that he'd consider his mentor an idiot, and yet…
Once the ring was destroyed, and they were satisfied that there was no latent magic left upon it, Dumbledore pocketed the ring. The protections on both the ring and the shack it was being kept in had been extensive, and Harry was exhausted by the time they returned to Grimmauld—only to then have to sit through a meeting.
Harry remained quiet throughout the meeting, aware that he was drawing concerned looks from the older members of the Order, and even from Dumbledore.
The only time he really reacted was when a flash of heat came from nowhere across the back of his hand. He startled, confused, until he realised that his hand was fine.
At the same time, Charlie muttered an 'ouch', and then a healing spell.
"Are you okay, Charlie?" Molly asked, frowning at where her second eldest son was busy making tea for the gathered crowd.
"Fine. I just splashed the back of my hand with hot water," Charlie replied with a sheepish smile. "Don't mind me."
Harry blinked, looking down at his own hand, and then back at Charlie.
Well. Shit.
…
"He's planning an attack on Godric's Hollow," Snape said, running a hand over his face. "I believe he's expecting—and hoping—to draw Potter there alone in a fit of anger. He believes that if he shows the boy a vision of it happening, Potter will come without help."
Harry sighed. He hated to admit that he would have likely tried to go, were he not being included the way he now was. Had he still been left to his own devices… Well, he knew himself.
"Do you know when, Severus?"
"Not precisely. Within the next week, certainly."
Dumbledore nodded and then looked at Harry. "You'll need to alert us the very moment you get the vision, Harry. We'll be able to mobilise there if we plan for it now, and hopefully take some of the Death Eaters into custody, and minimise the damage to the village."
While Harry had been getting mildly better at Occlumency, he still couldn't block anything out from Voldemort. Though, Dumbledore was quite certain that the Dark Lord would never try to actively possess Harry again.
"What if we played into his trap?" Harry offered quietly. "Obviously I won't actually go alone, but it wouldn't be too hard to fool him into thinking I did, would it?"
"That's too dangerous," Molly said, shaking her head immediately. "You're seventeen, Harry, and still in school. You may be allowed to sit in on meetings—which I still don't agree with—but to send you into battle would be… unconscionable."
Harry offered her a small smile before he turned to look at Dumbledore. While he appreciated how much she cared about him, her coddling wasn't needed right now.
"I believe that I agree with Harry to a point, I'm afraid, Molly. Perhaps, were Harry a regular seventeen year old, I would agree with you completely, but he's not. He's training at an Auror level, and he is a part of the Order, despite his youth." He turned to look at Harry. "Though sending you alone—even if you are not—isn't a risk I'm willing to take."
Harry looked at him for a long moment, and then nodded his acceptance. "Okay."
"You're not going to argue?" George asked, tilting his head curiously.
"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "If the Headmaster doesn't think it's wise, then I'll accept that."
Dumbledore smiled at him across the table. Their relationship had improved a million fold since Dumbledore had started being more open with him.
"I believe that Harry should join Bill's squadron for this mission," Dumbledore said, after a moment of thought. "They are our strongest fighters, after all, and will be able to keep an eye on him better than most. While we don't have many details of the attack, I believe it will be best to overplan for it, rather than underplan, as it were. Bill?"
Bill nodded, and then took over the conversation, a conjured map of Godric's Hollow spread across the table. Harry paid close attention to the details, interrupting only once with a different idea, which was accepted and discussed as it would be from any of the others.
Harry couldn't deny that it was nice to be taken seriously.
…
"I can't believe that they're actually letting you go with them," Ron said.
He looked both impressed, and a little jealous, and Harry really felt for his best friend. He knew that Ron wanted to be allowed to go to the meetings and be a member of the Order, but his mother had put her foot down firmly. Until he finished school, Ron wasn't allowed to join. Ginny was being kept as far away from the Order as possible.
Harry had even had to promise that he wouldn't tell them what he learned in the meetings, though he was allowed to tell Ron the very broad picture. George and Fred had no such concerns and told Ron and Ginny the details that Harry couldn't.
Thankfully, Ron understood that Harry was being kept on a much shorter leash than the others.
I think that this is going to be as much a test for me as any of my training sessions," Harry admitted softly. "I think they want to see how I handle myself in an actual battle, and as a part of a team, as opposed to being in the controlled setting of the training room."
"What if you get a clean shot on Voldemort?" Ron asked.
Harry was so proud of him, for not stuttering over the Dark Lord's name, and he smiled, even as he shook his head.
"I'm not ready to fight him yet. Not properly. I think… I think I'll know when it's time for that."
Ron twisted his lips, looking thoughtful, before he nodded his acceptance.
"Have you heard from Hermione today?" Harry asked, changing the subject for a happier one.
Hermione had decided to spend at least some of the holiday with her parents, though she would be joining them at Grimmauld Place for the last two weeks of the summer, before they returned to Hogwarts.
"Not yet, but I'm sure there's a letter on the way. She's horrified that I haven't done my homework yet," Ron replied, rolling his eyes.
Harry chuckled. His best friends were soulmates—surprising literally nobody—and sometimes, he wondered what fate had been thinking when it had paired them together. They really were chalk and cheese when it came to a lot of things.
Of course, whenever he saw them together, the musings disappeared, because they really were perfect for one another; he'd never seen a balance like theirs, not even in older couples he'd met.
"Oh, she said to ask if you'd felt anything yet?"
"Once," Harry admitted. "I uh. It was… different."
"So your soulmate is older," Ron mused. "That seems right. I always thought it would be someone older than you."
"Oh? How so?"
"You've got so much on your shoulders, Harry. Nobody our age could ever really understand than—understand you—could they? Even we struggle, and we're your best friends."
Harry nodded slowly, he hadn't really thought about it like that, but it made sense. He'd known it would be a man; he'd realised he was gay a few months before.
Looking back on the kiss with Cho, he should have known then. Describing a kiss as 'wet', even if the other person was crying, should have clued him into the fact that girls probably weren't for him.
Not that he'd had a chance to put it into practice. He'd told Ron nervously, but Ron had shrugged it off. Apparently, fluidity in sexuality was usual for wizards, and certainly not something that was considered bad, like it was in certain parts of the Muggle world.
"That's a good point," he said, realising that he hadn't replied. "I guess we're not all so lucky to have our soulmate already be our best friend."
Ron grinned. "True. I am lucky, aren't I?"
"You both are."
…
"I'm fine," Charlie said, waving his fussing mother away as she checked over him with fluttering hands.
Harry rolled his eyes. "No, you're not. You took a hit to the ribs."
He didn't mean to say it, and as Charlie's brow furrowed, Harry cursed himself internally and turned away, looking for someone, anyone, to engage in conversation.
"How did you know that?" Charlie asked, drawing the attention of some of the others who were gathered in the kitchen.
They'd just returned from Godric's Hollow. Voldemort had been unprepared for the full onslaught of the Order of the Phoenix, having truly expected Harry to run off, half-cocked, and there hadn't really been that many Death Eaters present.
The battle had been less than an hour before Voldemort and his forces had retreated. Harry had gotten a few cuts and bruises but nothing terrible, and Bill had been practically beaming at him when they'd returned.
Turning his attention back to Charlie, Harry shrugged and said, "I saw you take the hit."
He hadn't. He hadn't even been in the same area, but he was hoping that, in the confusion, Charlie would just let it go and not realise he was telling a pack of lies.
He didn't.
His frown deepened, and then from nowhere, he slapped his hand down hard against his injured ribs.
Harry flinched at the sharp pain, leaning against the wall as he hissed out, glaring at Charlie. "What the hell is wrong—"
"You're my soulmate!"
"Holy shit," Bill muttered.
"Did you know? What am I saying, of course you did," Charlie said, shaking his head as he answered his own question. "You didn't tell me. Why?"
"I'm taking the potion," Harry replied, his tone soft. "I didn't want to tell you without… Well, proof, I suppose. And, well."
He shook his head and turned away.
"He doesn't think he's going to survive the end of the war," Bill put in quietly.
Molly gasped, putting her hand over her mouth, as tears immediately filled her eyes at the very idea of Harry's death. Harry caught Dumbledore's eyes across the room and saw the same sadness in the usually twinkly blue.
"There's just… a chance that I won't," Harry hedged carefully, not particularly wanting to upset anyone further. "And until it's done… I wouldn't want someone to get close to me, only to lose me, you know?"
"Shouldn't that be my choice?" Charlie asked.
Harry pressed his lips together tightly for a moment, and then inclined his head. "Maybe. Now it is, I guess. You should get your ribs fixed first though. It hurts like a bitch."
Turning away, Harry left the room and headed upstairs to his bedroom. He wanted nothing more than a long, hot shower, and then his pillow.
He needed to sleep.
…
"I want Harry permanently on my squad," Bill said, at the next Order meeting. "Not only did he fight well—as well as the rest of us, actually—but he wasn't distracted when his soulmate got hurt. That kind of focus is what we need."
"He's still a child!"
"No, Mum," Bill said, shaking his head. "He's really not, and he hasn't been for a while, I'd wager. What he is, is a good fighter, and an asset to the Order. It's about time you accepted that."
Dumbledore nodded. "I agree. Harry did very well, though once he returns to school, he'll only be included in battles if it's absolutely necessary."
Harry nodded.
It was the agreement he'd accepted when Dumbledore had first approached the idea of Harry joining the Order officially, and Harry was willing to stick to it.
His training would continue while he was at school, and he'd still attend any meetings that Dumbledore thought he should be present for, Harry's school year was to be as uninterrupted as possible.
"This is ridiculous," Molly argued, throwing her hands in the air in her frustration. "Harry is your brother's soulmate, and you just want to throw him to the wolves!"
"With all due respect, Mrs Weasley, who my soulmate is, has absolutely nothing to do with my ability to fight. That's part of the reason I'm taking the potion to block off my end of the bond. So that nobody gets hurt unnecessarily," Harry said, his voice quiet, but carrying surprisingly well in the crowded kitchen. "My place in this war is fixed, and unavoidable, as much as I sometimes wish it was. You can't wrap me up in cotton wool and hope that it'll all just wait until I'm 'old enough' to fight."
"You're a child, Harry. You're going back to school in just over two weeks, and—"
"Enough, Molly," Arthur said, his tone sterner than usual as he looked at his wife. "Harry has had his say and has the support of the Headmaster. There are plans in place to keep him as safe as possible, but as much as none of us like it, he is important to the war. It's time to accept that."
Her bottom lip wobbled, but eventually, she nodded her head and held her tongue. Harry didn't believe that he'd heard the last of it, but for now, he was glad that she was letting it be.
Repeating the same argument over and over was pointless and tiring.
He was learning that quite quickly with Charlie.
Since the man had found out that Harry was his soulmate a few days earlier, he'd been hounding Harry to stop taking the potion. It wasn't like Harry didn't understand his position; he'd most likely feel the same way Charlie did, if their positions were reversed.
Even understanding it didn't mean that he was going to change his mind though. Charlie's argument that he could handle Harry's pain didn't sway him either.
The meeting wrapped up quite quickly after that. There wasn't much new to discuss, and Harry was grateful for it. Hermione was due in just a few hours, and he was looking forward to seeing her.
"Hey."
Harry turned around to find Charlie standing behind him. His heart sunk; he really didn't want to have another round of their repeated argument.
Charlie smiled at him, clearly reading his thoughts in his expression.
"I'm not going to mention the potion today. I just… want to spend some time with you. I thought that we could go and sit out in the back garden? The weather is great today."
A smile slowly lifted Harry's lips, and he nodded his head. "That sounds like… yeah. Yeah, I'd like that."
…
Harry summoned Dumbledore to Grimmauld Place two days before he was due to return to Hogwarts. To say that the Headmaster was shocked to see Slytherin's locket in Harry's hand was an understatement, but they were both practically giddy with happiness that they had destroyed another Horcrux.
They sat in the library—warded for privacy—afterwards, enjoying a spot of tea as they went over what Dumbledore suspected were the remaining objects, and where they could possibly be.
"Sir, would he have a Gringotts vault?" Harry asked, his brow furrowed as he thought. "Because we're talking about things that signified him being magical, and one of the first things I remember about magic is my very first trip to the bank."
Dumbledore tapped his chin thoughtfully, and then he quirked his eyebrow. "That… is an interesting thought, my boy. Growing up in the magical world, a Goblin-run bank has always been the norm to me, but to someone entering at age eleven… perhaps that's something. I'll arrange a meeting with the Goblins, post-haste."
Harry grinned briefly, and then sighed, running a hand through his messy black hair. "I still think there has to be one at Hogwarts, Sir."
"I'm inclined to agree with you," Dumbledore said, nodding his head. "Although I cannot begin to think of where in Hogwarts I haven't already searched. Not that I know all of Hogwarts secrets, of course."
Harry tilted his head, thoughtfully. There was something in the back of his mind, but he couldn't seem to grasp the thought.
"Are you looking forward to the term restarting, Harry?" Dumbledore asked then, and Harry smiled again.
"I am. It'll be nice to be back at Hogwarts, though I'm a little concerned about keeping up with my school work alongside training. I'm sure Hermione already has a schedule all plotted out for me, that she'll expect me to give my full devotion, I'm sure."
Dumbledore chuckled. "You have good friends, Harry."
"I know, Sir. I really do."
…
"Be careful," Charlie said, tugging Harry into a hug. "Don't do anything stupid, you hear me?"
"I hear you," Harry replied softly, squeezing Charlie gently before he stepped back a little. "Back at you, by the way."
"You'll know if I do," Charlie muttered.
Harry ignored the trace of bitterness in his words as best he could, but it must have shown on his face because Charlie muttered an apology.
"Here."
Harry accepted the small package, eyes widening when he opened it to find himself looking at a square mirror, his reflection looking back at him.
"Two way?" he asked, his thoughts immediately going to the one that Sirius had given him, that he'd vowed to never use.
Charlie nodded. "You should mirror me, when you get a free moment, okay? I'll keep mine on me."
"I will," Harry promised. "I'll see you at Christmas, if I don't come back for meetings before that?"
Smiling, Charlie tilted his head down to press a kiss against Harry's temple and then nodded his head. "You will."
…
The Goblins of Gringotts were truly offended that there might be a Horcrux of the Dark Lord hiding in one of their vaults, and after a little back and forth with the Headmaster, they'd searched both the Malfoy and Lestrange vaults themselves.
The Hufflepuff Cup had been handed over to Dumbledore at the end of their search. Harry couldn't help but be pleased that it was one more Horcrux gone; they were getting closer and closer to their end goal.
Only two remained. Dumbledore was convinced that one of them was Nagini, Voldemort's familiar, and Harry was convinced that the other had to be somewhere hidden in Hogwarts.
Where, he didn't know, but he was determined that before Christmas, he would find it. He wanted it to be over.
…
"Draco Malfoy is up to something," Harry commented, at the first meeting he'd been summoned to after returning to school.
Snape snorted, rolling his eyes, even as the Headmaster chuckled at Harry.
"I told you that Potter would have noticed, didn't I?" Snape said, shaking his head. "What was it that clued you in, Potter?"
"He's hardly subtle, Sir," Harry replied. "And he keeps disappearing from the map."
"Well, right you are, Harry. Draco Malfoy has been tasked with my death," Dumbledore explained. "Voldemort, of course, isn't expecting the boy to succeed, but I believe he's hoping that it will keep me distracted."
Harry sighed, shaking his head. "He's not a killer."
Snape's eyes widened slightly. "What makes you say that?"
"He's a brat, Sir," Harry said. "He's arrogant, offensive, and downright rude—all of the things I believe you've accused me of, actually—but he doesn't have it in him to be a murderer. He's a pain in the ass, but he's not… he's not evil."
"I don't believe him to be a murderer either," Dumbledore agreed softly. "But at the moment, he is scared, and he will start becoming desperate. He's been threatened with the lives of his parents, should he fail."
Harry sighed.
"Going back to what you said, Harry. He's disappearing from the map?"
Harry nodded. "For hours at a time, he—"
Harry cut himself off, thinking hard. It was almost impossible for someone to disappear from the map unless they were going beyond the map's boundaries, or if they were in the Room of Requirement.
It hit him in the head, and he barely restrained himself from facepalming.
"Do finish your sentence, Potter," Snape snapped, shaking his head.
"Oh. Sorry. For hours at a time, he disappears. I haven't seen where yet, but I'll try and keep a closer eye on the map to get a better idea if he's sneaking off the grounds, or whatever."
Harry met Dumbledore's eyes. After the meeting, he would hopefully get a chance to speak to the Headmaster alone. Harry was quite sure that he'd just figured out the location of the last object.
…
The Room of Hidden Things was shockingly full of the most bizarre things. It took the two of them almost two hours to find the Diadem of Ravenclaw.
"I'm very proud of you, my boy," Dumbledore said afterwards, when they'd returned to the office and the Diadem was no more. "I don't tell you that often enough."
Harry felt his cheeks heat slightly, and he smiled. "Thanks, Sir."
"And so, we're left with the snake, and the remaining piece of soul in Voldemort's body. The time is creeping ever closer to finish this war for good, Harry."
"I know," Harry said. "I'm… I don't know if I'll ever be completely ready for it, but I'm ready for it to be over, one way or the other."
"I have complete faith in you, Harry. You just need to have that faith in yourself. And, remember this; you are not alone. You'll never be alone."
Harry nodded. "I know, Sir."
…
The battle, when it happened, was infinitely worse than Harry had expected, while also being something of an anti-climax.
By the time he reached Voldemort, he'd been fighting for hours, and he was exhausted. Dumbledore had taken care of the snake—to Voldemort's horrified anger—but the Headmaster had eventually been forced to retreat when he was struck with a spell that had managed to get around his shield.
Harry could only hope that he was okay, but he also knew that he couldn't afford to focus on that right now.
Charlie was hurt too, though not irreparably. They all were, and Harry was already dreading finding out the losses of the battle. He knew that they hadn't gone unscathed, despite the number of masked bodies splayed out on the ground, unmoving.
He couldn't focus on that, either.
Gathering his magic, Harry faced off with the Dark Lord, and they fought. In skill, despite his training, Harry was woefully unprepared for the onslaught. Fortunately, he'd managed to even the score in sheer, brute power, and his shield held, even when his spells didn't hit.
A lucky shot ended the fight, their spells meeting in the middle. Harry pushed, and he pushed and he pushed his magic, until he had none left to push.
Thankfully, it was enough.
Voldemort's killing curse rebounded on him, ending him for good.
Harry only had time to confirm that he was dead before he slumped, exhausted beyond anything he'd ever been before, to the ground, darkness pulling him into blessed unconsciousness.
…
"He's waking up!"
Harry opened his bleary eyes slowly, feeling well rested and comfortable. It took him a moment to be able to focus, helped alone when someone carefully put his glasses on for him.
Only then did he realise that he was in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing.
"You did it, Harry!" Ron cheered, when Harry turned his head to see both of his best friends sitting in the seats by his bed. "You did it!"
Harry smiled slightly. "He's gone?"
"For good," Hermione confirmed. "Dumbledore had his body cremated, and the ashes were thrown through the veil in the Department of Mysteries for good measure."
Harry nodded, carefully pushing himself into a sitting position. "Charlie?"
"Gone to get some sleep, mate," Ron said, his tone softened. "He's been here for days, but we convinced him to go and get some proper rest."
Harry nodded, glad that they'd managed. "How long?"
"You've been out for nine days," Hermione told him, biting her lip. "You exhausted your core, almost to breaking point. For the first few days, we were all worried that you were going to be a squib. Thankfully, your magic started to build again."
"It would have been worth it," Harry murmured. "Who… who did we lose?"
"Tonks," Hermione said, her eyes shinier than usual with unshed tears. "Mad-eye. Penelope Clearwater. Lee Jordan. Remus lost his leg, but he's going to be okay. They, uh. They found Peter Pettigrew dead on the battlefield."
Harry nodded. He didn't even feel victorious at the thought of Pettigrew being dead. He couldn't find it in himself to be sorry either though. He felt an odd sort of numbness about it.
"Everyone else is okay?"
"New scars, a few wounds that will be with people forever, but…" Ron trailed off and nodded. "They're alive, which is the important thing right now."
The doors to the Infirmary opened, and Dumbledore came in, followed by Professors McGonagall and Snape.
"Harry, my boy," Dumbledore said, beaming at him. "It is very good to see you awake."
"Hi, Sir," Harry greeted, returning the smile. "How are you?"
"I'm fine, Harry," Dumbledore assured him. "Severus and Poppy healed me right up, there's no lasting damage."
"Good." Harry looked over Dumbledore's shoulder. "And you, Professors? You're both okay?"
McGonagall nodded, also smiling, and Snape, wide eyed at Harry's concern, nodded sharply.
"You did well, Potter," Snape said quietly. "Quite an impressive feat."
"I'm so glad you're back with us, Harry," McGonagall said, inching around Dumbledore to get closer. She wrapped her arms around him in a careful hug. "We were worried about you, young man."
"I'm sorry for worrying you," he replied, hugging her back. "And I'm glad that you're okay."
The doors burst open again, and Harry looked up to see Charlie staring at him. His red hair was everywhere, and his eyes were wide with both happiness and worry. His clothes were rumpled, like he hadn't even bothered to change when he jumped out of bed.
"I can feel you," Charlie said, and suddenly, Harry understood. He hadn't noticed it before, but now that he was focusing on it, he could feel the bond between himself and Charlie.
The potion must have blocked more than just the pain, since before, Harry could only feel when Charlie was hurt. Not, it was like a presence that he was aware of, instinctively knowing that Charlie was okay.
Happy even.
"I think we'll give the two of you a few moments alone," Dumbledore said, grinning, his eyes twinkling wildly. "As soon as Madam Pomfrey allows you to leave her tender care, we'll have tea, Harry."
"Yes, Sir," Harry agreed, never taking his eyes from Charlie's.
The others filed out of the room, even as Charlie approached the bed, sitting on the edge of it beside Harry, picking up his hand.
"I can feel you too," Harry said. "Properly, I mean. I can feel the bond even though you're not hurt. "
"You couldn't before?"
Harry shook his head. "I could only feel the pain when you were hurt, nothing else. I didn't realise how much it was blocking out."
"It's perfect," Charlie whispered. "Can I… I've been waiting for this to… Can I kiss you, Harry?"
"Please."
…
Madam Pomfrey kept Harry for another two days, and despite having been asleep for the last nine days, he spent most of the time sleeping. By the time she released him, he was feeling happy and energetic, so much lighter than he ever had before.
Charlie was waiting for him outside of the Hospital Wing.
"What are you still doing here?" Harry asked, hugging Charlie tightly.
Charlie kept his arm around Harry's shoulders as the two of them began their way down the corridor.
"I wanted to see you again before I had to leave," Charlie replied. "So I'll walk you to the Headmaster's office and then floo from there."
"Are you heading back to Romania now that the war is over?"
Charlie nodded. "For now. I'll be back in a few weeks for the Christmas holidays, though, and then again for the Easter ones. And we have the mirrors, right?"
Harry nodded. "We do. I'll miss you, though."
"I'll miss you too. I was thinking that maybe you could spend the summer with me in Romania? If you don't want to, I'll come back here, of course, but I just thought… until you know what you're doing after Hogwarts—"
"Romania sounds great," Harry interrupted gently. "I'd like to see the Horntail again. Do you think she'll remember me?"
"Henrietta?"
Harry paused. "The Hungarian Horntail that tried to roast me alive is called Henrietta?"
"Yes."
Snorting, Harry shook his head. "Of course she is."
"So, you'll come?"
"Yeah, Charlie. I'll come to Romania and meet Henrietta and hope that she doesn't remember me and try to fry me again."
Charlie laughed. "I'll protect you."
"I have no doubt," Harry said, leaning into him.
"I uh, I wanted to ask you something else, too," Charlie hedged, as they reached the guardian of the Headmaster's Office.
"Hmm? What is it?"
"You're not going to start taking the potion again, are you?"
Harry blinked. He hadn't actually thought about that. He still had some, Snape had brewed him another batch not long before the battle. He knew it wouldn't take much to convince himself that there were still people who would be out to get him, people who would want to hurt him for what he'd achieved, but…
Now that he had felt the bond properly, he knew he couldn't do that to Charlie. He couldn't do it to himself.
He shook his head. "No. I won't, I promise."
"Kay. I don't wanna kiss you in front of the Headmaster," Charlie admitted, leaning down to press his lips to Harry. "So, I'll see you at Christmas, okay?"
Harry nodded. "I'll mirror call you later."
"Good." Charlie kissed him a second time, and then dipped back in for a third before he grinned. "Come on then. We both know that the Headmaster is dying to fill you with candy and gossip."
Harry snorted, but he knew that he couldn't argue.
"Let's go."