Word Count: 2709
Warnings: Alcohol Abuse / Grief / Depression
A Promise of Tomorrow
She apparated directly to the doorstep of the still forbidding house, and let herself into the hallway. She was vaguely surprised that the wards still allowed her entrance.
Harry had made it extremely clear that she—and everyone else for that matter—were no longer welcome.
He just wanted to be left alone.
Unfortunately for him, she wasn't one to give up easily, and he was her best friend.
She checked the rooms quickly and methodically, and it didn't take her too long to find him, nestled in the library in front of a roaring fire. She watched him for a moment, her heart sinking when she realised that he was drinking again.
He turned to look at her, and rolled his eyes at whatever expression he saw on her face.
"I wondered how long it would take you to show up here," he said, waving a lazy hand at the opposite armchair.
She supposed that it was as much an invitation to sit as she was going to get. She did so, looking at him properly for the first time in months.
His usually bright emerald green eyes had dulled, and his face was drawn, gaunt even. He'd lost weight, and his hair was, if possible, even more of a rat's nest than usual.
He looked awful.
"Well, you won't come and see any of us anymore. This is the only place that I know that I can corner you," she replied, matter of factly, and a little tartley.
She watched him run a hand through his hair, a sure sign that he was frustrated.
"Why did you even want to corner me?" he asked, shaking his head. "I'm fairly sure that I made myself clear the last time I spoke to you."
"Hmm. You did. When do I listen to you though, especially about your well being?"
He chuckled bitterly. "Well. When you put it like that. When does anyone ever listen to me?"
She sighed. "Harry, we're worried about you. We're your friends, why won't you let us help?"
"Have you ever considered that maybe I don't bloody want help, Hermione? I don't want therapy, or potions to make me feel better, I don't want to talk, or go to a Quidditch match, or attend the latest Ministry victory ball. I don't want anything, other than to be left alone. Don't you think that I deserve some peace?"
"Harry, he wouldn't want you to do this to yourself."
He snorted. "You have no idea what he wanted, Hermione. You hated him, you all did. No one cared about what he wanted."
I don't hate him. Not now. We wouldn't have hated him before if you'd told us the truth," she pointed out wearily.
This was a familiar argument, they had taken part in it several times over the last few months, and she doubted that it would be the last time, either.
"You know that I couldn't."
"I know that you didn't. I even understand why. But Harry, you have got to get a grip. You don't even know if he's dead!"
"Hermione, we saw him die. We saw what Nagini did to him, and we saw the way he fell. He's dead. If he wasn't, he would be here. With me."
"Would he? Or would he try and make you get over him? Would he come to you, or would he want you to find someone 'better' than him?"
Harry turned to stare at her through narrowed eyes.
"You know something."
It wasn't a question, and she cringed internally at the deathly stare he was pinning her to the chair with. She tried to speak a few times, but the words wouldn't come, leaving her opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water.
She stood up carefully, still eyeing him with a little bit of alarm. She had seen that look in his eyes before, but it had never been aimed at her.
When she reached the door, she finally managed to speak.
"Clean yourself up, stop drinking, and sort your life out, Harry. Then I'll tell you where he is."
With that, she left quickly. She could hear bangs and crashes coming from the library, and she winced when he screamed in rage.
She hated that she had made him feel even worse than she knew he already did, but she comforted herself with the knowledge that she'd done it for his own good.
If this didn't help to get him back on his feet, then nothing would.
…
Two months later
…
Hermione was still waiting for Harry to get in contact with her, and she was getting more and more nervous as the days slipped by.
Had she tipped him over the edge?
Did he not believe her?
The urge to check on him was getting harder to resist, but she'd managed to convince herself every evening that she would just give him a few more days, before she returned to Grimmauld Place.
It was never going to be a quick process for him, but she'd expected to have at least heard from him.
She brushed her hair, getting herself ready for bed, when an unfamiliar owl tapped on her bedroom window. She let it in, accepting the letter that it offered her.
Summoning a treat, she offered it to the owl, but it flew to her dressing table and perched on the mirror, ignoring the offered treat.
Rolling her eyes, she sat down on the bed and flipped the envelope over, and then almost dropped it when she saw the familiar chicken scratch handwriting that she'd been waiting for.
Relief flowed through her, and she quickly opened the envelope and pulled out the sheet of parchment it contained, flipping it open to read it.
Dear Hermione,
First of all, I want to start out with an apology. To you, and to the rest of my friends, though I'll speak to them myself. I haven't been fair to you since the end of the war, and I should have given you more credit than I did.
You've always been a fantastic friend, and I think that I… I didn't forget it, but I ignored it.
My biggest apology is for your last visit. I'm sorry for scaring you, Hermione. I never want to see such fear in your eyes, especially not fear caused by me.
Since that visit, I've done a lot of thinking, and, dare I say it, a lot of soul searching. Needless to say, it hasn't been a lot of fun, and I'm glad that nobody was around to see it.
I do feel much better now, though it's certainly day to day, and I've got a way to go yet. I don't feel exactly like my old self again, but I also don't feel the need to pour a firewhiskey when I wake up, and that's progress.
Thank you for being strong enough to stand up to me, and for not letting me drown myself into oblivion, like I was trying to do.
I was hoping that we could arrange to meet up and discuss… things, but I don't want to do it at Grimmauld Place. The house holds far too many bad memories, and I no longer wish to live there.
I think that it could have been a part of the problem to begin with. I've moved into a little cottage on the outskirts of Surrey. You, and Ron, if he wants to join you, are welcome to visit at any time.
If it's alright with you, I'd like you to come for lunch, perhaps one day in the next week or so?
Send a date back with the owl who delivered this letter to you, he'll get it back to me quickly.
I am sorry, Hermione, and I do—I will always—love you.
Harry.
Hermione sniffed, wiping a tear that had fallen down her cheek away with a brush of her hand. He'd done it. She was so happy for him, and, if she was honest, for herself.
It would be nice to have her best friend back.
Pulling a clean sheet of parchment from her bedside table, she quickly wrote a reply and carefully tied it to the waiting owl. It nipped at her finger affectionately, before it flew off into the night.
It was only a little later, after she'd climbed into bed and was getting herself settled to go to sleep, that she realised that the eyes of the owl had been the exact same shade of emerald that Harry's used to be.
…
Harry was nervous.
He paced around the kitchen, picking things up and putting them down as he waited for Hermione, who was due at any minute.
He was terrified about what she might tell him. Was Severus alive? Was he alive and just avoiding Harry, because he didn't actually want anything to do with him?
He'd obsessed over that thought since the last time he'd seen her, and it hadn't made getting himself together easier. So many times, he'd wanted to just throw in the towel, to concede defeat and pick up a bottle of Ogden's Firewhiskey.
A bell sounded in the wards, alerting him to her arrival, and he straightened the tea towel he'd been fiddling with. He walked through the cottage to let her in.
She looked as nervous as he felt, but when she smiled at him, he relaxed a little and pulled her into a careful hug.
"You look so much better," she murmured, as she pressed her face against his shoulder, taking in the clean scent that she remembered from before the war had completely derailed their lives.
"I feel better," he assured her. "Com in, I've made a chicken salad," he added, leading her through the brightly lit hallways to the kitchen, where they sat at a quaint little breakfast nook.
Harry fetched over the salad, and some fresh bread, and placed it between the two place settings he'd already laid out.
"Do you want Butterbeer, Pumpkin Juice, or a can of Coke?" he offered, smiling when her eyes lit up at the mention of the Muggle drink.
Being brought up in the Muggle world, as much as he hadn't been allowed many luxuries, he understood the way she missed the little things like that in her day to day life.
Getting two cans from the fridge, he sat down facing her.
"When did you buy this place?" she asked, looking around in interest.
"I didn't," he admitted. "This cottage was my Great Grandparents retirement home. The Goblins forwarded me the paperwork for all of the properties in my portfolio when I decided that I had to get out of the mausoleum, and this was the one that stood out to me the most."
"It's beautiful," she told him, smiling slightly.
It was so good to see the sparkle back in his eyes, that it made her feel almost giddy.
"I've missed you," he said, after a minute of silence.
"I missed you too," she replied softly. Then she tilted her head. "I'm not the only one."
She watched as his eyes widened slightly, and she knew that he could tell by her tone that she hadn't been talking about Ron.
"So… he is alive, then?"
She nodded, and then bit her lip, unsure how to explain to him what had happened.
"He… yeah, he's alive. When we'd left the shack, Fawkes turned up and healed him. He wanted to stay and help, but Fawkes flashed him off to a safe house. Dumbledore had it all planned out before he died."
"Shocker," Harry muttered, rolling his eyes.
He really should have realised that the meddling old man would have had something to do with it.
"Yes, well. Anyway, after the battle, he allowed himself to doubt the relationship between the two of you, and he stupidly convinced himself that you were better off without him." She shook her head. "A week or so before I came to see you that last time, Fawkes came to me, and he took me to Severus. He was a mess, Harry, as much as you were. I told him much the same as I told you, only—and please don't hate me for this—I showed him some of the memories I have, from after the war. Of the… the state you were in. And I showed him the memory of the argument we had, when you told me that you loved him."
Hermione tensed, ready for him to shout at her, or make her leave, or—
She startled slightly when he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace.
"Even when I was in the middle of trying to drown myself in whisky, I never hated you, Hermione, not for a single second. You're my best friend."
She nodded as he let go, sitting himself back in his seat.
"So, will he see me?" Harry asked, looking a little unsure.
"He's looking forward to it," she replied, smiling slightly. "He's been pestering me about you for the last few weeks. He's nervous, naturally, though of course he would never admit that to me."
"Of course," Harry agreed, because they were both well aware that Severus would never admit to such a weakness.
"I'll bring him here tomorrow, if you'd like?" she asked, smiling softly when he nodded eagerly. "Alright. I have to go, I have to get back to work. It was… It was so good to see you, Harry."
"It was good to see you too, Hermione. I love you."
"I love you too."
…
Severus was a ball of nervous energy when Hermione arrived to pick him up, though he hid it behind his customary glare. She smiled at him when she arrived, and held her hand out for him, so that she could side-along Apparate him.
She was using her lunch break to ferry him to Harry, and he was very grateful to her for that.
The two of them appeared outside a beautiful countryside cottage. It was extremely picturesque. There was honeysuckle growing up the side of one wall, and the gardens were blooming with flowers.
It was a perfect place to make a home, Severus thought to himself.
"Severus," Harry gasped from the doorway, immediately drawing the older man's attention.
Harry looked well, much better than he had in the memories that Hermione had forced him to watch, anyway. He was still thinner than he'd been, but he looked healthy, and his eyes were shining brightly.
"Harry," he replied, a slight tremble in his voice that he hoped they didn't hear.
"I have to go back to work," Hermione said, kissing each of their cheeks in turn. She hugged Harry, and then said, "I expect you at mine tomorrow, for lunch. Ron is looking forward to seeing you." Turning her head, she added, "You're welcome to join us too, Severus."
With an airy wave, she was gone, leaving the two men staring at each other.
"I'm sorry," Harry said, shaking himself out of the daze that he was in. "Do you, uh, want to come through to the back?"
Severus nodded, and followed Harry through the cottage to a small patio, where refreshments had been carefully laid out. Harry had certainly been busy that morning, though Severus suspected it was because he'd needed to be.
"I missed you," Harry whispered, as they stood side by side awkwardly, neither of them really knowing how to break the ice.
"Your absence has been sorely unacceptable," Severus replied in kind.
Harry cracked a smile at his customary formal tone, and he carefully reached out to grip Severus' hand in his own.
"You're an idiot," he murmured, shaking his head.
Looking slightly affronted, Severus frowned. "Why?"
"For thinking that, after the time that we spent together, I could ever be happier living without you."
"You mean it? Still?"
"I'll always mean it, Severus. I love you."
Pulling Harry closer, Severus rested his free hand on Harry's cheek.
"My brat. I love you too."
The kiss that they shared was everything that they both hoped for and more, and in it, there was a joint promise.
A promise for tomorrow, a promise for forever.